When Democrats had
everything but the best
government job

Shortly before the Civil War, San Diego was wallowing in its usual business slump. Good, well-paying jobs were hard to come by and even harder to keep. Some joker was always trying to unseat the incumbent, and the latter had to keep awake and protect himself in the clinches.

    Joshua Sloane, postmaster in 1859, protected his job with - a tea kettle!

    With the exception of his floppy-eared hound Patrick, Josh had the uncomfortable distinction of being the only Republican in a town of Democrats. It was infuriating to the latter that, during a Democratic administration, this irritating man should hold the best-paying government job in town.

    Action was taken. All Democratic voters signed a letter to the postmaster general in Washington, D.C., asking that Josh, said to be "a black Republican, incompetent, and a heavy drinker," be removed from office and replaced by any one of several deserving Democrats.

    Gathering the mail that evening, Josh noticed the fat letter and the person to whom it was addressed. Sensing trouble, he asked Patrick if he should open it. Patrick barked that it was OK by him, so Josh reached for the tea kettle and steamed open the flap of the envelope.

    His worst fears were realized when he read the damning enclosure. Napoleon once said, "Attack! Always attack!" So, that’s what Josh did. He reached for his pen and wrote a glowing testimonial of the efficiency, sobriety, popularity and business efficiency of Postmaster Sloane.

    Then, clipping out the slurring passage, he carefully glued in his revised version, added the signatures, then sent the renovated letter off to Washington by the next mail steamer.

    Notice of his reappointment, plus a glowing letter of congratulations from the postmaster general himself, arrived several weeks later. Both papers were tacked on the post office bulletin board for all to read and enjoy. Old Towners were furious and were convinced that the entire Buchanan administration had gone collectively mad.

    Hearing the news of the election of Lincoln and the opening of the Civil War in 1861, Josh and Patrick decided to hold a rousing county Republican rally and anti-slavery meeting, which the two held immediately in the back room of the post office.

    Then Josh dispatched a letter to national Republican headquarters giving a fictitious account of the rally and stating that he had been elected by a unanimous vote as San Diego County chairman. He added that a Mr. Patrick had been picked as county secretary.

    Grateful party brass sent a letter by return mail appointing Josh collector of customs at San Diego at a good salary and named Mr. Patrick deputy collector at $75 a month. Not wishing to annoy party big-wigs by stupid explanations, Josh swore in Patrick and pocketed the pup's salary each payday.

    The deputy collector was conscientious about inspecting ships' galleys for loose pork chops, while the collector, from his wharf office, ogled disembarking and curvesome female passengers through a pair of binoculars.

    This peeping Tom activity was noticed by disapproving citizens. One visited the wharf office and suggested that an unmarried man of his age would do better paying court to one of the fine elderly widows living in San Diego.

    "Rather kiss a rat trap than an old woman!" Josh snapped. Then, raising his binoculars, he checked out a lush 38-24-36 disembarking from a coastal steamer.

    As secretary of the town's board of trustees (city council), Josh advanced the idea of a city park and kept hammering on the idea until, in 1868, 1,400 acres were set aside for what is now Balboa Park.

    As the land became increasingly valuable, speculators, itching to get their mitts on the acreage, appeared from time to time before the board with various schemes.

    Infuriated, Josh would jump up and down like an India rubber dolly and shout to the board, "Future generations will know you weren’t worth three blind pups if you let these rascals get away with our park!"

    Members listened and turned down speculators every time. So, it is largely due to eccentric Joshua Sloane that San Diego citizens can enjoy their beautiful park today.

    For years Josh and whiskey had been on more than a nodding basis. One night the old gentleman was holding up an Old Town lamp post and humming the 1875 version of "How Dry (he wasn’t) I Am" to Patrick. Along came a local minister, notoriously bluenosed, who, regarded the angle at which Josh was holding up the friendly post, tut-tutted, and sadly spoke.

    "Brother Sloane, this is disgraceful! What would you do if the Lord called for you right this minute?"

    Josh hiccuped a couple of times, gave the question deep thought, then replied, "Don't think I'd care to go."

    Long-time newspaperman "Woody" Lockwood has forgotten more about San Diego history than most historians remember. Two years retired from daily newspaper work, he is researching a book on military food.