Person:Stephen Cooper (6)

Maj. Stephen Cooper
  • HMaj. Stephen Cooper1797 - 1890
  • HMaj. Stephen Cooper1797 - 1890
  • WMalinda Tate1801 - 1872
m. October 1824
  1. Frances Ann Cooper1825 -
Facts and Events
Name Maj. Stephen Cooper
Gender Male
Birth[1] 10 Mar 1797 Madison, Kentucky, United States
Marriage October 1824 Howard, Missouri, United Statesto Malinda Tate
Death[1] 16 May 1890 Yolo, California, United States

Major Stephen Cooper

  • Major Stephen Cooper dies in Yolo County
The death of Major Stephen Cooper which occurred at the Winters residence of his daughter, Mrs. Wolfskill, marks the terminus of a busy and well spent life, and one full of interest to all Californians and pioneers. We have not enough space to give a full account of all his life but only to submit a few of the interesting points. Stephen Cooper was born in Madison county, Kentucky, March 10th, 1797. At the age of ten his parents moved to Hancock Bottom, St. Charles county, Missouri, and later moved to Boons Lick, Howard county, Kentucky. He served under his father all through the war of 1812. In 1822, the Major was one of a company of fifteen who opened the Santa Fe trade. In October 1824, he was married to Melinda Tate of Howard county. Six children were born to them, Mrs. Van Winkle [Francis Ann remarried to Van Winkle after the death of Robert Baylor Semple], Mrs. Wolfskill, of Winters, Mrs. Calmes of Colusa, Mrs. Roberts, Sarshel Cooper and Thomas Benton Cooper. On January 1st, 1871, after having lived together 47 years, his good wife died at the age of 72 years. In 1825, Major Cooper was appointed pilot and captain of a company employed by the United States to lay out a road from the border lines of Missouri to Santa Fe, which they did successfully. He served as a scout all through the Black Hawk War. In 1838, Governor Boggs of Missouri, later of California, a relative of Len Boggs of Woodland, appointed the Major with Col. Boon and Major Berseford as Commissioners, to mark out and locate the north boundary line of the State of Missouri, and in 1839, he was appointed by President Van Buren as agent for the Pottawattame, Ottawa and Chippewa tribes , with headquarters at Council Bluffs. In 1844, he was elected to the Legislature of Missouri from Holt county. In the spring of 1845, he joined the John C. Fremont expedition to California. The following letter at that time shows the esteem in which he was held.
Washington City, April 22nd, 1845, - Dear Sir: - Co
Benton tells me that you have accepted an appointment in my party, and I am glad to have with me a man for whom he has so high an opinion, as I have no doubt that on this trip we will need men of the best quality and we must try to have no others. - J.C. Fremont, Capt. U.S. Army.
The following spring, Major Cooper organized a party of his own to come to California. It consisted of his own family and 48 ox wagons with families for settlement. He arrived in Yolo County in 1846. He presided over the first meeting called in California by emigrant population for the purpose of nominating parties to be voted into office. In 1848, he moved to Benicia and was appointed Alcalde (mayor having judicial powers) by Governor Mason and the first case tried by the California Supreme Court was sent up from his Court, his decisions being sustained. In the fall of 1849, he was interested in laying out the town of Baltimore, now Knight's Landing. He died May 16th, at the residence of his daughter, Mrs. Wolfskill, aged 93 years, 2 months and 6 days. He will be buried at Colusa next Monday.
This article was reprinted in the May 17, 2006 issue of the Daily Democrat of Woodland California. The original article was published May 17, 1890. Our thanks to Cassie Hill for leading us to this article.
  1. 1.0 1.1 Maj Stephen Cooper, in Find A Grave.
  2.   Rogers, Justus H. Colusa County: its history with a description of its resources, also biographical sketches of pioneers and prominent residents. (Orland, California: Rogers, 1891)
    Chapter 12.

    Colusa Biographical Sketches – Chapter 12 – Autobiography of Major Stephen Cooper – Written in 1888 - Page 343-465 - Transcribed by: Linda Diane Jackson on June 22, 2009.

    "I was born March 10, 1797. My parents emigrated from Virginia to Kentucky at a very early day, when Kentucky was full of hostile Indians. My maternal descent was from John Hancock, one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence. My mother grew up in Boonsborough, and my father in Bryant Station. There were eleven children of us, all of whom are dead except myself. In 1807 my father moved to Missouri and settled on the frontier. I was then ten years old. We had no educational advantages there, as there were no schools; Missouri was then inhabited by Indians. In the winter of 1810 we moved to Boons Lick, Missouri, then one hundred miles from settlements. We lived there over two years, with peace and plenty, until the War of 1812 broke out. By this time we had considerable settlements, but found it necessary to build forts for our protection. We had three, viz., Cooper's, Kincaid and Fort Hempstead, the two latter being ten miles from the former. My father, Captain Sarshel Cooper, was looked upon as leader of all the forts.

    "We had great abundance of horses, cattle, hogs and sheep. Had no stores; lived very plain; we raised hemp, flax, and cotton, and with the wool of our sheep our women manufactured such clothing as we wore, both men and women. The men wore buckskin pantaloons and buckskin moccasins. No man owning a dollar, no taxes to pay, we lived happy and prosperous until 1812, when the Indians commenced their depredations, the first of which occurred in Montgomery County, Missouri.

    "In 1814 the county was alive with hostile Indians. My father went to St. Louis for assistance, and in his absence the Indians, five in number, killed a negro man who was hauling wood at the salt works, near Fort Hempstead. The news reached Cooper's Fort at midnight. In one hour we were off, reached Fort Hempstead at daylight; a little after sunrise our party was thirty men strong. We had with us a hound that would run and cry an Indian trail; at nine o'clock we arrived where the trail was left the evening before. The hound cried the trail, and off we went at half speed, and just before sundown came in sight of the Indians we were following. They took to the brush, and we could hear guns in every direction. We concluded to go in thick brush and remain until morning, no man being allowed to speak above his breath. When morning came, we mounted our horses, but did not go far before we struck a fresh Indian trail. They had been looking for us all night. We followed their trail to their camp, where we found some three hundred in number. We made a charge and attempted to surround them, but they surrounded us. I dismounted and took a tree ahead of the other men. The Indians were flying in every direction, whooping, yelling, and advancing. I recollected the advise of General Dodge, 'When you shoot know what you shoot at.' I found it impossible to get sight; finally an Indian halted, raised his gun to his face, but I fired and beat him down. I looked around and found myself alone, except one man, Joseph Stills. I flew to my horse, but by this time the Indians had surrounded Stills and myself. As we charged through them, they shot Stills from his horse. The horse ran on; I soon ran out of gunshot, and discovered John Snethen running afoot. I called to the stampeded crowd to stop and catch the horse; they obeyed, and Snethen mounted Stills' horse. We had one killed and two wounded. I again ordered a halt till I loaded my gun; the order was again obeyed. I soon loaded, as I always, in going into action, carried my bullets in my mouth. We afterwards learned that we killed seven Indians.

    "Some five days after this occurred, some three hundred Indians surrounded our fort and killed the first man, John Busby, that went out in the morning. We were too weak to attack them, as my father had taken a guard with him to St. Louis, where he was applying for assistance. He returned soon afterward. He had been at home only a few days when, on a stormy night, while thundering and lightning, the Indians picked a hole through the wall of the house and shot my father sitting by the fire-place. He was shot and never spoke. I had just gone to bed and dropped to sleep. I jumped up with gun in hand, sprang to the upper story of the house, and as it lightened I saw an Indian, but in an instant it was dark. I fired at random, but think to no effect; at this time the country was alive with hostile Indians. A few days after this, relief came to our assistance. The Indians must have known that we were reinforced, for they immediately left. We had very little trouble after this.

    "The summer following, Missouri commenced settling, but the people were easily frightened. The Indians coming into the settlements caused the people to become alarmed, express would be sent to Cooper's Fort, brother Joseph and myself would start with three or four men, and ride all night to their relief. This was a common occurrence; in fact, Cooper's Fort was considered headquarters; after my father's death, Joseph was considered the war-horse. I was always with him, although but a youth, yet I was a stranger to fear. After this my occupation was plowing and raising corn until the fall of 1819, when I engaged as a hand in driving beef cattle to our soldiers at Council Bluffs.

    "In 1822, myself with fourteen others fitted out the first company that opened what was called the Santa Fe trade. I left the party sixty miles from Santa Fe, and went alone; however, a party of Spaniards had met us, and two went with me to Santa Fe, where the streets were crowded with men and women. I espied a man who looked as though he could speak English; I rode up and accosted him. You cannot imagine how I felt to hear the English language again. After a minute's conversation, he inquired if I had seen any men after me. I answered, 'No, what are they after me for.' 'The governor is going to take you; you had better go with me and give yourself up.' I replied, 'I am not alone and will do so, but if I had three men with me, I would not.' He said, 'What would you do with three men?' My reply was, 'I would wade out from amongst you.' I said to him, 'Go ahead.' He told me to go to his house and leave my arms, but I said, 'No; if they go to rough means I will need to defend myself.' We met the governor in the yard. He was just about to get on a mule to take a ride. We had a friendly chat through this interpreter. The governor requested me to call on him at two o'clock; I did so; we had a long and interesting talk. I informed him our object was to get up a trade with them; and I also informed him that we had brought a few goods with us. He replied, 'Do the best you can, and encourage a trade with us.' He said, 'Go back to your men and tell them we are glad to see them.' I went and reported. We peddled our goods and returned that fall.

    "Myself and my brother Joseph were employed by General Smith and Major Berry to go to Texas in search of seven negroes that had been mortgaged to them and had been run off to Texas. After two years' search, they were found to be in Texas; we found the negroes and soon had them on American soil. We struck through a wilderness, saw no settlements except Fort Smith, Arkansas, and the Harmony Mission on the American. At this point I left my brother, as I had promised some Santa Fe traders to be back by the 5th of May. On reaching the Missouri settlement, in Lafayette County, I met the Santa Fe traders, thirty in number. I informed them that I would be with them in eight days; I was then within a day's ride of my home, in Howard County. The party waited at the Blue Springs, in Jackson County; when I came back to them, I unceremoniously took charge of the party. We reached Little Arkansas the 31st of May. Here we came to an immense cloud of buffaloes; the plains, as far as the eye could reach, were black with them. The men were in great glee, gazing and singing till eleven o'clock at night. Not thinking of danger, I lay down with my gun in my arms and my shoes on, but took my pistol off my person. At daybreak a band of Indians, some twenty in number, charged through our camp on horseback, firing their guns and yelling, frightened and stampeded our horses, and swept everything before them. I sprang from my sleep, ran some thirty yards, fired at the crowd, and knocked an Indian from his horse. They caught him and bore him off; it was on one of our own horses, which turned and ran into camp. An Indian tried to head him off, and came within ten steps of me, but my gun was empty, and I had left my pistol in my bed. I continued running with my empty gun until I found it was of no use. I then ran back to camp, where I found four horses; I ordered them saddled while I was loading my gun. Four of us mounted and pursued, and we soon came in sight of them. They stopped to make battle, but when we came near them, they fled from us. We pursued them ten miles, ran our horses down, but found we were gaining nothing, so gave the chase up, and returned to camp. When a horse would give out, he would be killed. Ten horses were killed while we were in the chase; altogether we lost forty-seven horses. We were then four hundred miles from home, in a savage country, all afoot and all our effects in a few dry goods. I told them that it was bad, but I was glad that it was no worse, as there was no one killed. I remarked, 'We have six horses left, and I want five men to go with me to Missouri to get more horses.' They were not hard to raise. I told every man who had a friend to write and have him send a horse to him, and those who had no friends, that I would bring him one. Off we went, traveling day and night. We soon raised all the horses we wanted; then back we went, only stopping four hours of the night. When we came in sight of our boys, we discovered the camp was full of Indians. This looked a little squally; one man faltered; he said we could yet escape. I remarked that I would go up if no man went with me. We went till we came within three hundred yards. When I saw one of our men step from the crowd, I hallooed back, 'Is Bob Morris alive?' I elevated my gun on my shoulder and fired. All hands were overcome with joy; they did not shout, for all were speechless. This was a band of friendly Indians who had gone out on a buffalo hunt.

    "From here we proceeded on our way up the Arkansas some two hundred miles, when the company got it into their heads to leave the river and cross a desert so as to shorten the route. I opposed it, but we made the attempt, however, and here we had trouble; eight men gave out on the desert, all hands became frightened, cut their packs from their best horses, and off they went like crazy men. Here I was left with eight helpless men. One man plead with me to go and save my own life, that these men were bound to die. I replied, 'No; I will not leave a man while he has life in him, but if you find water, come back.' When dark came, I loaded guns and fired in the air, and raised a fire of buffalo chips for a signal. At midnight four of the men came back with water. At daylight we packed up everything and started to join those at the water. We were four days in search of each other and finally succeeded.

    "In the meantime we fell in with a company of twenty men who had started for St. Louis the fall before, but were caught in a snow-storm and lost all their mules. They cached their goods, and went on foot to Taos. They had returned for their goods, with a Comanche Indian for pilot. Our two companies then joined and we were fifty men strong. I differed with the Indian as to the route, but consented to go as he wished. We started with our canteens empty, and found no water on our first day's travel. We started again at daylight next morning, and traveled till nine o'clock in a westerly direction. I then unceremoniously broke off alone, and went north without saying a word to anyone. The others followed. We came to sandhills, where seven men gave out. One man had been left some six miles back. I commenced encouraging the men to hold up, saying that we were only ten miles from the Arkansas River; we kept on and reached the river at sundown.

    "Next morning I asked for volunteers to go with me to bring in the men left on the desert; four men responded, and we set out loaded, with our canteens filled with water. In the first ten miles we came to seven men, all alive, but they had given up. We gave them water and started them to the river. Now there was one man six miles beyond, lying in the desert. I asked, 'Is there a man who will go with me?' One man replied, 'I will go.' We found him lying down and stupefied. I gave him water, lifted him on his mule, and at sundown we reached the river, all hands together again. Once more I had a good night's rest. In the morning I told the men that we had made two attempts to cross the desert against my will; 'now,' I said, 'I will be my own pilot if three men will go with me. I will travel two days and a half up the river, which I will leave just before sundown, travel all night, and at nine o'clock next morning will get to the lower Simarone Spring; we will then be safe.' I told them I was worn out, and must rest one day, to which all consented. I lay down under the shade of a cottonwood tree all day and rested. The men would roast choice bits of buffalo meat and bring to me. Next morning we started up the river. The second day we met our Indian guide; he said he had found water and a large band of Comanche Indians. I told him my route. He said the Comanche Indians would be at the Simarone Spring when we got there. We reached the spring next morning after leaving the river, and found fifteen hundred Indians. They were glad to see us; we remained there a few days, then proceeded on our way into New Mexico, deposited our goods, and returned home in the fall.

    "In the spring of 1824 I took a trip to Kentucky with a few Spanish mules and jacks. Soon after my return to my home in Missouri, I was married, in September, to Malinda Tate, daughter of Stephen and Elizabeth Tate. We traveled through life almost fifty years. We raised six children, two boys and four girls, of whom I feel proud, and whom we brought to California in 1846. They are all living except one son, making five children living. I also have twenty-three grandchildren and eight great grandchildren, making in all thirty-one of my family. Who has done more for California than I?

    "Congress appropriated $30,000, in 1825, for the purpose of laying out a road from Missouri to Santa Fe. President J.Q. Adams appointed three commissioners for that purpose: Colonel Reaves, Major Sibley, of Missouri, and Colonel Mather, of Kaskaskia; Joseph C. Brown, Surveyor; Archibald Gamble, Secretary; and myself, pilot. But I had to take charge of the whole concern. We held a council with the Osage Indians at Council Grove, in Kansas. From here we proceeded on our journey up the Arkansas to a point where the boundary between the United States and Mexican territory met on the Arkansas River. Here we waited for instructions, so as to proceed through the Mexican territory. The Mexican authorities objected to our proceeding through their territory, so that ended the matter. We returned in 1828.

    "I moved from Howard County and settled in Lewis County, near Lagrange. When the Black Hawk War broke out, in 1832, I raised thirty men and guarded the northern settlers until the Missouri troops were ordered out. I then joined Captain Matison's company as pilot, and as a scouting party we were stationed in the northern part of Missouri.

    "I being on the tramp all the time with six men, we fell in with General Hughs, Indian Agent, as he claimed to be, with some six Indians. I inquired who he was and what he was doing. He replied, 'I am showing the situation of the frontier.' I replied, 'If that is the case, consider you and your party my prisoners.' 'Why,' he said, 'I am a government officer.' I replied, 'I don't know you as such, nor I do not intend to know you.' I marched General Hughs to Captain Matison's camp. They had a warm time of it. Captain Matison praised me for the way I had acted. General Hughs returned to his Indians, and was not able to bring them to our camp. Captain Matison was soon ordered in, and two companies sent out from Boon and Calaway Counties. I then joined them, and acted in the same capacity until Black Hawk was captured by General Dodge.

    "After this I returned home and lived a quiet life. However, I indicted a neighbor for stealing my hogs; he, by hard work, got clear and sued me for damage of character, and finally won. This broke me up. My farm and everything gone, I put out thirty miles from any inhabitant, built a little cabin, where I took my family, and went to raising pigs. In two years I had plenty of everything and a host of neighbors.

    "In 1836 I was appointed one of the commissioners, with Colonel Boon and Major Bancroft, to locate and mark out the northern boundary of Missouri. Of our proceedings we came near having war between Missouri and Iowa. The matter was finally submitted to the Supreme Court of the United States. The contention was about a strip eight miles wide. The court decided in favor of Iowa. It was a singular decision, as there was but one prominent landmark to govern the whole matter—that was the rapids of the river Des Moines. There are many rapids in that river, and we took the lower rapids and run the line to the letter of the compact of Missouri; but it was not worth getting up a war over.

    "Under Buchanan's administration I was appointed Indian Agent at Council Bluffs for the Pottawatomies, without my knowledge, as I had not asked for anything. I served in that capacity until removed by President Tyler on political grounds. I then moved back to Holt County, Missouri. In 1844 I was vain enough to run for the Legislature. There were four candidates—three Democrats and one Whig. I came out ahead, and the Whig third. The first proposition I made in the Legislature, I was out of order. The speaker informed the gentleman he was 'out of order.' I sat down, but sprang to my feet and made the same motion again. The speaker informed the gentleman that he was 'out of order.' I sat down, but sprang up the third time, and varied the motion but little. I was then heard, and carried my point. The next thing that came up was the location of a branch Bank of Missouri. I proposed St. Joseph, and, contending for that point, I remarked that it was the head of steamboat navigation, and I expected to see the day when a railroad would cross the Rocky Mountains, and the Chinese trade coming to St. Joseph and carried over the United States. For these remarks they threatened sending me to the insane asylum. I have lived to see the day, and have ridden on the iron horse four times and heard him snort.

    "At that time Captain J.C. Fremont was making arrangements under authority of the government to go to California in case we should have war with Mexico, and Colonel Benton was writing to me, urging me to come with Fremont.

    "I received a letter, May 25, 1845, from Fremont urging me to join his company, and left home May 28, 1845. When we arrived at Bent's Fort, near the mountains, the company was divided and I was sent south through Texas, and reached home in October.

    "In the spring of 1846 I started with my family for California; was at the head of seven wagons, three of these my own. We soon fell in with a large train of thirty-five wagons, bound for Oregon. We camped together two nights; the second morning at daylight there was a flag flying on one of our wagons with large, conspicuous letters, 'Bound for California.' This got up great excitement, and thee Oregonians threatened to shoot the flag down. I said to them, 'Bring out your brave men and shoot down some old woman's flag if you want to.' This made them ashamed of themselves.

    "We soon rolled out and twenty-one of the Oregon wagons fell in with us, making twenty-eight wagons in my train, which I brought to California. The first news I received of the American domination of California was while I was riding down through Humboldt County, then an almost unexplored wilderness. The day was hot and dusty, my oxen were tired and thirsty, and we were a demoralized lot, slowly creeping down the valley. Suddenly I saw a man galloping up the valley, shouting, swearing and praying, all in one breath. He would lash his horse and give a shout. He would hurrah for Fremont, then for California, and then for America. When he got opposite me, I stopped and got off my wagon and asked him what the matter was. He acted like a madman, shouting until I threatened to thrash him unless he spoke sense. Then he told me that Fremont had captured California. I tell you I suddenly ceased to feel tired, and the creaking of the ox-yoke was music in my ears; even the oxen felt revived and walked brisker for that news. California looked twice as handsome under American rule as it did under the Mexicans.

    "We reached Sacramento Valley the 5th of November, 1846. In three days fifty wagons arrived. We met recruiting officers from Fremont's camp. I went into the recruiting business, and through my influence some twenty-six joined me. I told them I wanted every man who could leave, to join Fremont; that we had to hold the country or leave it at short notice. I could not go, as I had two very sick children, but if it were not for that, I couldn't be tied back. From that time forward, at every American camp we found a dressed bullock awaiting us. I first went to Napa Valley, where I remained till September, 1847. At that place, Mr. Yount and myself gave the first Fourth of July dinner ever given in California. Our flag was the stripes and a lone star, over which was written, 'California is ours as long as the stars remain.' Dr. Bail, an Englishman, undertook to cut it down. I told him this was our national birthday, and I hoped he would respect it enough not to cut the flag down. That flag is now in the Pioneers' office in San Francisco. It was a small thing, but there was a great deal of meaning to it. On the twenty-second of February, 1847, I presided at the first political meeting ever held in California. It was in the little town of Yerba Buena, now San Francisco. In the fall of 1847, I settled in Solano County, and was the first settler of Benicia; was appointed Second Alcade by Governor Mason, and afterwards elected First Alcade and Judge of the First Instance of Sonoma District, which included the territory north of the bay and west of the Sacramento River. My Alcade's record was the first to be recognized by the United States Government.

    "On the 4th of May, 1848, Sam Brannan, a Mormon, came to Benicia in a little sail-vessel. He came to my house, with his saddle on his back, and dunned me for a horse, saying that he had some horses at Sutter's Fort and wanted to collect them. I furnished him a good horse. When he was about to mount the horse, he told me he was not going after horses. He remarked, I know the biggest speculation in the world, and if there is anything in it, on my return I will let you into the secret; he was gone some four or five days. On his return my horse brought him to Knights Landing, on the Sacramento River. He had run him down; procured a fresh horse, which brought him to Vacaville; having also run that one down, another fresh one brought him on to Benicia. He told me he had stood over a man five minutes, and in that time had seen him wash out $8.00, and remarked that there was more gold than all the people in California couldd take out in fifty years. That was the first gold excitement that ever amounted to anything.

    "I started out and reached Mormon Island on Sunday morning. Some few days after, I received information that ten Mormons on the island were washing gold, and claimed thirty per cent of all the gold for two miles up and two miles down the American River. I took a stroll up the river until I supposed I was out of the range they were claiming. Monday morning I went down to the river with a tin pan and saw how the Mormons washed gold. I suppose that in the first pan I took out about fifty cents. Went back to the same place again and washed and got about one dollar and a half. I then went to work with my two little boys and took out about $80 that day. The second day took out $400, and the third day $500. I then went back to the settlement and tried to get tin pans. It was from a letter of mine that President James K. Polk gave to the world, in a message, the discovery of gold in California that so startled the world and caused the immense rush here in 1849. My letter was shown Polk after passing through several hands, and he subdivided its contents in the message. I went from the American River on to the Yuba, and struck rich diggings there. I left when I was taking out $50 an hour and never went back, thinking it would become a drug on the market.

    "In 1849 I gave the second Fourth of July dinner in Benicia. From Benicia I moved to Green Valley, and from there went, in 1855, to Colusa, where I have made my voting-place ever since. In 1880 I was appointed messenger to convey the electoral vote of California to Washington.

    "Some five years ago I went to Modoc County on a visit to my son. I had sold to a rich bachelor there an eighty-acre land warrant, but the register at Susanville land office refused to let him locate it. The warrant was returned to me, and I took up a homestead and located a warrant on it. While there I also took up a timber-culture claim, which I still hold."

    Major Cooper's autobiography closes here. To complete the life record of this vigorous, patriotic and universally-esteemed nonagenarian, whose fame is historic in the nation as well as in the State, and whose unsefish usefulness made the paths of the pioneer smoother and aided powerfully in throwing around their early efforts of civilization the forms of law, but little more need be added.

    In the fall of 1855, he removed to Colusa, where he made his home on a farm two miles west of Colusa, and was, shortly after his arrival there, elected a Justice of the Peace, holding that office for twelve successive years. Major Cooper died in the ninety-first year of his age, on May 16, 1890, at the home of his daughter, Mrs. J.R. Woofskill, at Winters, Yolo County. Five of his six children survive him. They are: Mrs. F.A. Van Winkle, Mrs. Amos Roberts, Mrs. J.R. Woofskill, Mrs. Waller Calmes and Thomas B. Cooper.