Parker's Court History:
Part One
He arrived in Fort Smith via a shallow running paddle boat in 1875, with, his wife and son. They had transferred in Little Rock to the smaller river boat for the final leg of his destination. Straight backed, the former two-term congressman from St. Jo, Mo., came to rap the gavel on the federal court bench for western Arkansas. Appointed by President Grant to this post after he lost the race for a Missouri senate seat, he took over one of the most corrupt courts in the land. Grant liked and respected this lawyer from St. Jo and Grant perhaps wondered why he choose such a job from the other posts he’d offered him.
First, Grant’s job offer in Utah as federal magistrate would have ended when that territory became a state. Who was going to grant statehood to the Indian Territory and the lands that stretched westward to the Colorado border?
But out of that crowd of Texas cowboys who’d driven cattle up there, the sailors and boat hands, ex-slaves, an assortment of Indians and breeds, and various farmers, peddlers and bar keeps on Garrison Avenue who observed his arrival in Fort Smith that day ever imagined the influence that this one man would have on the region and its history? That man they viewed was Isaac C. Parker.
They called Parker the hanging judge. He assumed the job after Judge Story resigned under the threat of impeachment. Under Story’s gavel the law had been so corrupt anyone could buy their way off of any offence including murder. Earlier the court had been moved from Van Buren, Ark., to the old army barracks on Belle Point in Fort Smith. Parker opened his first session May 17, 1875 at 8 a.m. and his sessions ran to as late as 8 and 9 p.m. every evening – six days a week except for Christmas. His salary was $3,600 a year.
At this time, Fort Smith was wet – the Indian Territory was dry. Many returning Texas cowboys coming home from cattle drives came by to party in the river city. There were plenty of saloons to gamble in and drink firewater. Also six houses of ill repute were listed as some of the finest in the land. Women were prohibited from going into saloons but they could work houses or even operate on their own. However at the local Opera House, Fort Smith’s shining example of being civilized at the time, such shady ladies were only allowed to attend sitting in the balcony.
Parker found the jail in the building’s basement no doubt a hard issue to swallow. There of course were no toilets only buckets that the black employees emptied every day. But in the hot humid climate the stench no doubt wafted upstairs into the court room. As many as 250 prisoners at one time were held in the small jail. Some mad ones were chained to the wall, others that were considered a threat wore heavy leg irons, and the least dangerous ones walked about without confinement inside the cell area.
His jurisdiction stretched clear to Colorado and was a land run over with outlaws, wild Indians, former renegade slaves and the remains of the confederate guerillas who were not offered amnesty after the war.
The Indian tribes had their own courts but could do nothing about a white man.
So the Fort Smith federal court tried those cases of white versus white, white versus red or red men who did things to white men. Parker’s legacy began that May day with the first rap of the gavel. No one knew what this straight-backed Yankee was about to do. The residents' experience with carpet baggers and other tom foolery from the previous judge no doubt made them wonder if he would be any better. (To be continued. Next issue more on Parker’s Court history.)
Western novelist Dusty Richards and his wife Pat live on Beaver Lake in northwest Arkansas. For more information about his books you can email Dusty by visiting www.ozarksfn.com and clicking on 'Contact Us' or call 1-866-532-1960.
