People stood still in the streets, when this notice met the eye.  If this was actually the old Committee of 1851, it meant business.  There was but one way to find out and that was to go and see.  Number 105-1/2 Sacramento Street was a three-story barn-like structure that had been built by a short-lived political party called the “Know-Nothings.”  The crowd poured into the hall to its full capacity, jammed the entrance ways, and gathered for blocks in the street.  There all waited patiently to see what would happen.

Meantime, in the small room back of the stage, about a score of men gathered.  Chief among all stood William T. Coleman.  He had taken a prominent part in the old Committee of ’51.  With him were Clancey Dempster, small and mild of manner, blue-eyed, the last man in the room one would have picked for great stamina and courage, yet playing one of the leading roles in this crisis; the merchant Truett, towering above all the rest; Farwell, direct, uncompromising, inspired with tremendous single-minded earnestness; James Dows, of the rough and ready, humorous, blasphemous, horse-sense type; Hossefross, of the Committee of ’51; Dr. Beverly Cole, high-spirited, distinguished-looking, and courtly; Isaac Bluxome, whose signature of “33 Secretary” was to become terrible, and who also had served well in 1851.  These and many more of their type were considering the question dispassionately and earnestly.

“It is a serious business,” said Coleman, summing up.  “It is no child’s play.  It may prove very serious.  We may get through quickly and safely, or we may so involve ourselves as never to get through.”

“The issue is not one of choice but of expediency,” replied Dempster.  “Shall we have vigilance with order or a mob with anarchy?”

In this spirit Coleman addressed the crowd waiting in the large hall.

“In view of the miscarriage of justice in the courts,” he announced briefly, “it has been thought expedient to revive the Vigilance Committee.  An Executive Council should be chosen, representative of the whole body.  I have been asked to take charge.  I will do so, but must stipulate that I am to be free to choose the first council myself.  Is that agreed?”

He received a roar of assent.

“Very well, gentlemen, I shall request you to vacate the hall.  In a short time the books will be open for enrollment.”

With almost disciplined docility the crowd arose and filed out, joining the other crowd waiting patiently in the street.

After a remarkably short period the doors were again thrown open.  Inside the passage stood twelve men later to be known as the Executive Committee.  These held back the rush, admitting but one man at a time.  The crowd immediately caught the idea and helped.  There was absolutely no excitement.  Every man seemed grimly in earnest.  Cries of “Order, order, line up!” came all down the street.  A rough queue was formed.  There were no jokes