The Great American Steamboat Race (31 page)

Here the interview ended, the reporter informing Capt. Leathers that he supposed the Natchez would beat the Lee’s time within six months, but he [the reporter] would not ask any information on that point.
¹²

Leathers’s friends and backers in Cincinnati were generally more gracious, conceding the
Natchez
had been fairly beaten. The Cincinnati
Gazette
, perhaps speaking for them, expressed its feelings in a straightforward, no-excuses editorial published in a late edition on July 4:

The three days’ agony is over. We are glad of it. There can be no doubt as to which is the fleetest steamer on the Mississippi. The Robert E. Lee need not make another run until a steamboat is built in the future that, upon trial, will excel her in speed. Cincinnati may be proud of the Natchez for her beautiful model. Her machinery is also good, else she would not have made the run she did — sometimes even gaining on the Lee.

“Generalship” and many other things may have had their influence on the race, but the solid fact stares us in the face that the Lee has beaten the Natchez. The reason of this, to plain, common-sense people, is apparent, namely: The Lee is the fastest boat.

The Natchez was built expressly to beat the Lee. The question heretofore has been, “Will the Lee beat?” The only question now is, “Has she done it?” We think she has, and fairly, too. The thirty-four-inch cylinders could not cope with the forty-inch cylinders. Cincinnati must build another boat and try the large cylinders.
¹³

By the next evening, Tuesday, July 5, the officers of the two steamboats were sufficiently recovered from their ordeal to attend the banquet planned to honor the loser as well as the winner. The celebration of the consummation of the great race was to be held at the Southern Hotel, four blocks back from the riverfront, on Walnut Street, a hotel widely known for excellent cuisine. The banquet’s organizing committee had engaged Postlewaite’s String Band to provide entertainment for the fifty or so invited guests, all men, most of them steamboat captains and officers. A long-time captain, Dan Taylor, apparently picked for his gift of eloquence, was to preside over the affair.

In the hotel’s banquet room the guests took their places at three long, parallel tables that awaited them. At the head of the table on the right was seated the St. Louis harbormaster, Captain R.P. Clark, and beside him sat John Cannon. The other officers of the
Robert E. Lee
sat on either side of the table, along with Cannon’s old partners, Johnny Smoker and John Tolle, and others. It was obviously the
Lee
table, with a model of the vessel set on it as a centerpiece. One of those seated at it, however, was N.C. Claiborne, who was related to Leathers by marriage.

At the head of the table on the left sat Captain W.W. Green. Tom Leathers sat to the right of him, and the other officers of the
Natchez
, as at the
Lee
table, were arranged on both sides of the table. Also at the table were, among others, Bart Able, captain of the
Mollie Able
, and John Christy, who had traveled from Memphis to be with his friend Tom Leathers at the celebration. At the center of the table stood a model of the
Natchez
.

Between the
Lee
and
Natchez
tables was the center table, which may have been regarded as the neutral, or barrier, table. At the head of it sat — and occasionally stood — the banquet’s master of ceremonies, Captain Taylor, and arranged on either side of it were the rest of the celebrants.

The food and wine were as rich and bountiful as might be expected aboard a grand Mississippi River steamer, and Postlewaite’s String Band performed superbly, according to all reports. When the dinner had been consumed, wine glasses emptied many times, cigars lighted and Postlewaite’s musicians had been stilled, Captain Taylor rose from his chair at the center table and began an oration of complimentary remarks, followed by a reminder of what the guests had come to celebrate. “The two steamers that arrived at our wharf yesterday,” he said, revealing the public-relations aspect of the race, “have demonstrated that steamers can navigate even the difficult waters of the Mississippi and yet compete with the railroad, as they have done.”

His audience applauded in hearty agreement.
“There are many of you here,” Taylor went on, “who have been longer upon the railroad from New Orleans to St. Louis than any of the gentlemen who have arrived on these steamers.” More applause and shouts of agreement. “I speak of that in general terms, previous to congratulating our friends, the officers of the two steamers who have been so successful and who have so perfectly illustrated the fact that steamers can navigate the Mississippi River and yet compete with railroads on the land, even though they cut across the corners.” That statement was intended as a joke, as his listeners understood it to be, and they responded with laughter and more applause.
After a few more remarks in praise of steamboats, Taylor lifted his wine glass and announced, “I now offer you a toast, gentlemen. The crews of the steamboats
Lee
and
Natchez
!”
His audience quickly responded with their own raised glasses and drank his toast. Taylor then called upon Captain Cannon for a few words.
Cannon declined, and Colonel Claiborne of Kentucky, Leathers’s relative, stood to speak on behalf of Cannon. “I am related to both of these boats,” he told the celebrants, “to the
Natchez
by ties of blood, to the
Robert E. Lee
by state pride.” After reciting the achievements of the grand old steamer
J.M. White
as well as the
Natchez
and the
Robert E. Lee
, Claiborne reminded his listeners that the steamboat was invented by an American. “I make this statement,” he said, “when I know and feel that we have a better people, braver men and prettier women than there are in any nation.” Laughter and thunderous applause followed.
“There is a name, gentlemen, in this celebration,” he went on, turning serious. “There is a name upon the card that invited me to this ovation, and there is something in that name, and I beg you to go slow.” The room grew quiet. “If any words should pass my lips hastily, that should sound harshly upon the ears of the most sensitive, I will pour upon the wound the balm of a thousand oils before I get through.”
His preparations made, he then delivered his tribute to what was in that mixed audience a controversial figure — the Confederate general for whom the winning steamer was named, Robert E. Lee. “The whole people of this great country respect the man, though they condemn his course,” Claiborne said. He pronounced himself one of those who “rejoiced in the final victory of the Union” and then, seeking to salve the war’s wound, offered a little lightness. “Suppose,” he said, “we had divided, where would the
Natchez
and the
Lee
have stopped? Not at St. Louis. And we would have been put out of this banquet tonight, and the wine and good spirits and good cheer we have had.”
The audience responded as he no doubt had hoped, with laughter and applause. Finally, he raised his glass and called for, “Long life and good health to Tom Leathers and John Cannon!”
That toast downed, Captain Taylor stood and turned to Leathers for a speech. Like Cannon, Leathers declined. Captain Able of the
Molly Able
rose to speak for him. By now the wine evidently was having some effect on the relevance and the reality of the remarks. Able wanted America to have credit for more than the invention of the steamboat. He pointed out for the audience that an American, Samuel F.B. Morse, had invented the telegraph, and another American, Cyrus W. Field, was the man who had laid the trans–Atlantic telegraph cable. The celebrants, now in a mood to cheer any agreeable statement, cheered for Morse and Field and Able’s reminder of their accomplishments. He took time to deplore the recent war and declared himself happy that peace had been reached, allowing the occurrence of such a great event as the running of the race between the
Natchez
and the
Robert E. Lee
. “It is an event,” he declaimed, “which has stirred the American heart to its very core. There is no part of this great nation that has not responded to this great race of steam.”
He then grandiosely predicted that the attention drawn to the midcontinent by the race and the resulting realization of the vitality of Mississippi River commerce would in the immediate future cause the nation to move its capital from Washington to St. Louis. His audience cheered that also. “I trust,” he said, concluding, “this will be the inauguration of a better, more cordial and social era in the life of western boatmen, and though the railroad car goes and the telegraph flashes on every side, there is no obstacle to shut this mighty river.... Your sons’ descendants will yet navigate its great waters and perhaps achieve greater triumphs than those who passed before them.” He then returned himself to his chair. The speeches went on, however, speaker after speaker making fanciful remarks and calling for toast after toast. Everyone had a chance to rise and speak. One of those who spoke raised the memory of the late Captain J.M. Convers, former master of the old
J.M. White
, and at that, Postlewaite’s musicians started playing “Auld Lang Syne,” and the celebrants sang along. When George Clayton, chief pilot of the
Robert E. Lee
, was asked to make a speech, Postlewaite’s String Band broke out into the rousing strains of “Dixie.” Clayton, however, begged off the requested speechmaking, pleading exhaustion.
The harbormaster, R.P. Clark, volunteered a few tall tales, one of them being how his baldness was a result of Indians shooting his hair off with muskets. More laughter and cheers. One of the most senior members of the audience, Captain Reuben Ford, stood and boasted to the audience that in his long career on the river he had held every job known aboard a steamboat. “You were not chambermaid!” Dan Taylor rejoined, drawing huge laughs and howls from the crowd.
The toasts became all inclusive — to the citizens of St. Louis, the citizens of New Orleans, the chairman of the banquet committee, the proprietors of the Southern Hotel — until at last the celebrants were ready to call it a night and make their way home or back aboard their vessels.
¹⁴
Captain Cannon and his officers returned to the
Robert E. Lee
. Captain Leathers found accommodations on his wharf boat.
Early the next morning, Wednesday, July 6, Cannon and his crew made ready to depart St. Louis, and at eight o’clock the
Lee
drew in its lines and backed away from its wharf boat as a crowd watched from shore. It steamed upstream to the northern end of the waterfront, then turned about, fired its signal cannon, and with a full head of steam, glided swiftly past downtown St. Louis, headed for Mound City, where it would enter drydock and undergo repairs to overhaul its engines and boilers and restore its stripped upper works and have its hull repainted as well.
If Cannon thought Tom Leathers might be planning to stage another race with the
Robert E. Lee
, running downriver this time, he need not have worried. Leathers and the
Natchez
spent July 6 and 7 taking on passengers and freight for the return trip to New Orleans and did not leave St. Louis until the evening of July 7, well after the
Lee
’s departure.
The racing of the
Natchez
and the
Robert E. Lee
had indeed ended.