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Bob Dalton wanted to “out-Jesse” Jesse James. To become as famous (or more famous) than the James gang. It didn’t work out quite as he had intended. The Dalton gang’s attempt to rob two banks simultaneously in broad daylight was a fiasco, leaving four of the five outlaws dead, along with four townsmen.
Maybe Bob should have thought long and hard about the James gang’s raid on Northfield, Minnesota sixteen years earlier. Eight gang members took part in that one. Two were killed outright. One was killed later and three arrested. The only ones that got away were Frank and Jesse James, and they were both wounded.
Grat (b. 1861), Bob (b. 1869), and Emmett (b. 1871) were three of Lewis and Adeline Dalton’s (m. 1851) fifteen children. Adeline was an aunt to the Younger brothers, who rode with the James boys. (They were the three captured after the Northfield raid.)
Lewis Dalton worked as a saloon keeper in Kansas City, Kansas. By 1882 the family was living in Indian Territory (present day Oklahoma). And by 1886 they were farming around Coffeyville, Kansas.
Another of the Dalton brood, Frank (b. 1859), was a U. S. Marshal working out of Ft. Smith, Arkansas, serving under Judge Parker.
Frank was respected by his brothers and he helped keep them in line. They even rode on posses with him. Unfortunately, he was killed in the line of duty in late 1887.
Maybe, in part to avenge their brother, Bob and Grat pinned on badges. Grat was a deputy marshal for the Muskogee court and Bob was a deputy marshal for the federal court in Wichita, Kansas.
Emmett worked mostly as a cowboy. He met several future gang members working on surrounding ranches. These included “Bitter Creek” Newcomb, Charley Pierce, Charlie Bryant, and Dick Broadwell.
Emmett
But the boys couldn’t stay on the right side of the law. Bob was accused of selling whiskey in Indian Territory. He jumped bail and never went to trial. Grat was arrested for horse stealing, but was released due to lack of evidence. All three brothers wound up in California with their brother Bill (b. 1866).
On February 6, 1891, the brothers were accused of robbing a Southern Pacific passenger train. Bob and Emmett skedaddled back to Indian Territory, but Bill and Grat were arrested.
Newcomb and Bryant joined Bob and Emmett and they robbed a train in May, 1891. Bryant was arrested after the robbery and was killed trying to escape.
Bob and Emmett, with Newcomb, Pierce, Bill Power, Broadwell, and Bill Doolin, robbed another train in September, 1891.
Back in California, Bill had been acquitted, but Grat was convicted. While being transferred by train, Grat got the handcuff key out of the pocket of the sleeping deputy, presumably, and dove out the window as the train was passing over a river. He went under and was carried downstream. He made his way back to Indian Territory and joined his brothers for two more train robberies in June and July, 1892.
Then came the fateful decision to rob two banks in Coffeyville.
On the morning of October 5, 1892, Bob, Grat, Emmett, Power, and Broadwell rode into town. Some of the brothers, since they were known in the area, donned false beards and wigs.
They couldn’t tie their horses where they had intended – due to road construction, the hitching post that they had wanted to use had been taken down. They tied them in an alley near the banks.
They had also been recognized by a townsman named McKenna on the way in. He watched them as Grat, Power, and Broadwell entered the Condon & Co. bank. Through the front window, he saw one of them point a Winchester at the cashier.
At the same time Bob and Emmett entered the First National Bank. They, too, were spotted by local citizens. The cry went up that the banks were being robbed.
Hardware stores, including Isham’s, handed out weapons to townsmen. Isham’s was next to the First National and directly across from the alley (now known as “Death Alley”) where the horses were tied.
The cashier in Condon & Co. told Grat that the safe was on a time lock and could not be opened for a few minutes. This wasn’t true, but Grat believed it. He never even tried the door.
Townsmen started firing at Condon & Co. The outlaws in both banks headed to the front doors with employees as shields. But the gunfire was too heavy and they retreated.
Grat was told that there was no back door, so he, Power, and Broadwell went out the front. Grat and Power were hit shortly after exiting the bank. Bob and Emmett went out the rear door of the First National.
Power made it to his horse, but was shot in the back and died.
Town marshal Connelly ran into the alley from the side, and was shot in the back by Grat.
Broadwell made it to his horse, mounted, and took off. He was hit by rifle and shotgun fire as he rode away, but hung on to his horse. His body was found a half mile outside of town.
Bob was hit by fire from citizens at Isham’s. He staggered and sat down, continuing to fire. He got up to find better cover, and was shot in the chest.
After shooting the marshal, Grat went for his horse. A bullet caught him in the throat and broke his neck.
Emmett, unharmed so far, was hit twice as he mounted. He went to help Bob. When he reached down to help Bob onto the horse, he was hit in the back by both barrels of a shotgun. He fell next to Bob, who died a moment later.
It was over in fifteen minutes.
Power_Bob_Grat_Broadwell
Eight men dead – four outlaws and four townsmen. Four men wounded – one robber and three citizens.
Emmett survived his 23 wounds and was tried and convicted of murder. He was sentenced to life in prison. After fourteen and a half years he was released – partly due to affidavits from Coffeyville citizens who said that he had been carrying a bag of money in one hand and a rifle in the other and couldn’t have killed anyone.
In 1908 Emmett married Julia Lewis. He lived in Oklahoma for awhile, and then moved to California where he he worked a real estate agent, author, and actor.
He , along with Julia, returned to Coffeyville in 1931 to erect a headstone on his brothers’ grave, and he was treated as a celebrity.
Emmett said that they had wanted to make a big score because of the pressure of lawmen, particularly Heck Thomas, on their trail. They had wanted to have enough money to get out of the territory and lie low until things cooled off.
Emmett died in 1937.
One final note. There is some question regarding the number of outlaws. Some citizens said that they saw six on the trail to town. And, at least one individual, said that he saw a sixth man mount and ride quickly out of the alley as all hell was breaking loose.
There has been speculation as to who this could have been. Bill Doolin has been brought up as a possibility.
But most people there at the time say that they only saw five.
Okay, this is the final note. There is the Dalton Defenders Museum in Coffeyville. Haven’t been there, but I’ve seen pictures on line. They have several artifacts from the raid, including outlaw guns, Bob’s hat, their saddles. If I’m ever in Kansas, I’m going!
Okay, okay, this is really the last note. This is my last story. I’ve been writing these for three years, and it’s time for someone else to pick up the pen. You can write about any Old West topic that you wish.
So, if you’ve dreamed of being a writer, for no pay and no fame, now’s your chance. Just contact Loco.
Keep your cinch tight and your hammer on an empty chamber!
Cactus Jack
Timothy Isaiah Courtright
Timothy Isaiah Courtright was born in Illinois in 1848 (maybe 1845). He grew up in Iowa and, during the Civil War, joined the 7th Iowa Infantry, serving under General John “Black Jack” Logan. He took a bullet for the general, saving his life, and, at some point after the war, worked on Logan’s ranch.
In 1870 he married Sarah Weeks and had two children.
Courtright farmed outside of wild and woolly Ft. Worth from 1873 to 1875. When the farm failed, he moved into town and was appointed deputy city marshal in late 1875.
In 1876 he was elected to the post of city marshal and had the job of keeping peace in the red light district – Hell’s Half Acre. During his tenure Jim killed at least five men and was thought to have been involved in several assassinations.
He also offered “protection”, for a price, to several local businesses.
Despite this, he is credited with cutting the city’s murder rate in half.
He was defeated in 1879, when running for his fourth term. Courtright then founded a detective agency; which failed. He subsequently spent his time drinking and gambling, before leaving Ft. Worth for New Mexico in 1883.
In New Mexico he was accused of two murders. He fled back to Ft. Worth, with the law following. He opened the Commercial Detective Agency basically a front for a protection racket. Jim was eventually taken into custody, with the assistance of the Texas Rangers, but escaped. After all of the witnesses had died or disappeared, he went back to New Mexico and was acquitted.
He returned, once more to Ft. Worth.
Luke L. Short was born in Mississippi in 1854, but spent his childhood in Texas.
He left home at an early age; supposedly because he killed another youth with a pair of scissors.
Luke L. Short
Short worked as a cowboy and in 1870 tried his hand at making a living by gambling in Abilene, Kansas.
In 1876 he worked at a trading post as a whiskey peddler. He sold whiskey to the Sioux – a federal offense. He also killed several drunken Indians. (During this period he spent some time in Ogallala, Kansas, gambling with Bat Masterson.)Despite this, he was hired to scout for the army from 1878 to 1879.
He eventually wandered to Dodge City, Kansas, where Short again became associated with Masterson, as well as with Wyatt Earp.
He later moved to Tombstone, A.T., to again try his hand at gambling. While there he killed a man named Charlie Storms in a gunfight.
In 1883 Luke moved back to Dodge City where he acquired half interest in the Long Branch Saloon. The mayor and his allies saw Short as an “undesirable” and tried to make him leave town. Short, however, had the backing of several famous gunfighters; Bat Masterson, Charlie Bassett, Wyatt Earp, and Doc Holiday, among others. (It was at this time that the famous Dodge City Peace Commission photograph was taken.)
Short stayed on in Dodge, but eventually sold out and went to Ft. Worth, where he acquired interest in the White Elephant Saloon.
Apparently Courtright wanted Short to avail himself of Jim’s “protection” services. Short told Courtright where to go – Luke could protect his property without any outside help.
Courtright possibly wanted to make an example of Short. He didn’t want other “customers” to think that they could also do without his services.
On February 8, 1887, Courtright called Short out. On the street, as they faced each other, Luke said that he wasn’t armed (He was!). He walked toward Jim while opening his vest. Courtright yelled, “Don’t you pull a gun on me!” and drew his pistol. His gun, however hung up on his watch chain. Short drew and fired; blowing off Courtright’s right thumb. Jim tried to switch his gun to his left hand, but it was too late. Short fired four more times, killing “Longhair Jim”.
Courtright’s funeral was grand – hundreds attended.
Short was tried but was acquitted on the grounds of self defense.
Luke continued his life as a gambler – dying in Kansas in 1893 of heart failure.
Luke Short had killed 14 men.
Abilene! The first of the Kansas cowtowns!
Starting in 1867, longhorn cattle driven north by Texas cowboys arrived in Abilene and were shipped east.
Although the citizens appreciated the effect that the cattle and cowboys had on the local economy, they didn’t care for the cowboys themselves. The drovers, many of whom fought for the Confederacy, didn’t like the Northerners. They also tended to “let loose” when they got to town. Any dislikes or feuds that had remained under wraps on the trail were settled in Abilene.
Cowtowns also attracted gamblers, pimps, prostitutes – anyone who thought he could come between a cowboy and his wages.
The Texans that were still in Abilene in early October, 1871, were not happy. It was the end of the cattle season and those Texans that were holding their cattle, waiting for a better price, were disappointed. Some were financially ruined. It didn’t help that the city council had ordered the marshal, “Wild Bill” Hickok, to close down most of the gambling parlors and brothels in September.
 Wild Bill Hickok Hickok had been appointed marshal on April 15, 1871. He was respected by the Texans for his fighting ability. But he was not liked by them. He represented the “Yankee” North.
During his tenure he kept the peace with the help of several deputies. Some thought him overbearing and too fond of gambling. Others accepted this, as long as he kept the lid on Abilene.
On October 5, the Texans were in a particularly bad mood. In addition to the things listed above that put a burr under their saddle, it was pouring rain. This put a damper on the county fair that was in progress at that time. The cowboys, many drunk, were in the saloons forcing whomever was there to drink with them or buy them drinks.
At about 9 PM, someone fired a shot near the Alamo Saloon. Hickok rushed over to see what was going on. When he got there he found Phil Coe , backed by about fifty Texans, holding a pistol.
There was apparently some dispute between Coe and Hickok – possibly over the affections of a soiled dove. At any rate, Coe was heard to say that he would get Hickok “before the frost.”
 Phil Coe Coe told Hickok that he had fired at a stray dog. Then Coe drew a second gun and fired twice at Hickok. One shot hit the ground between the marshal’s feet; the second went through his coat tail. Considering that they were about eight feet apart, that was some terrible shooting!
“Wild Bill” drew both of his revolvers and fired. Two shots hit Coe in the stomach. He died in agony three days later.
A figure, gun drawn, darted between Coe and Hickok. The marshal, assuming that it was a Texan buying into the fight, fired. It turned out to be Hickok’s friend, Mike Williams. Williams was apparently rushing forward to help “Wild Bill”.
Hickok, with tears in his eyes, carried his friend’s body into the Alamo Saloon and laid it on a billiard table.
Hickok arranged for the body to be sent to Williams’ wife in Kansas City. He also paid the funeral expenses. At a later time he visited Mrs. Williams and explained what had happened.
Supposedly, after the fight, Hickok started carrying a shotgun under his coat.
At some point, the marshal had been advised that there was a price on his head. A letter had been received that indicated five men, for a purse of $11,000, were on the way to Abilene to collect.
In November “Wild Bill” boarded a train for Topeka. Five men got on with him. They tried, unsuccessfully, to get behind him. They then moved to a forward car.
While Hickok slept, a friend kept watch. One of the men returned and sat behind Hickok with his pistol drawn. The marshal was awakened by his friend. When they got to Topeka, “Wild Bill” saw his friend to safety, and reboarded. He confronted the five and told them they could not get off there. They objected, but Hickok, with drawn pistols, won the argument.
(If you’ve read this article, congratulations! Let LPL know that you have done so at the next shoot, and she’ll have a nice surprise for you!)
By the end of the year the citizens of Abilene had had enough. They dismissed Hickok in December. And they told the Texans to, in the future, take their cattle elsewhere.
The gunfight with Phil Coe was Hickok’s last.
Not much is known about the early life of Andrew “Buckshot” Roberts. He did fight in the Civil War. He may have fought against the Texas Rangers, and he may have hunted buffalo with Bill Cody.
What is known, is that at some point, he caught a load of buckshot in his right arm. As a result he couldn’t lift his arm higher than his hip. Despite this, he was still a deadly shot.
During the Lincoln County War, he had a small ranch in the Ruidoso Valley, near Lincoln.
Roberts did not take sides in the conflict. He said that he had fought enough and wasn’t about to fight someone else’s battle.
Despite his stand, it was assumed that he sided with the Dolan-Murphy faction. He occasionally worked for Jimmy Dolan at his branch store at South Fork near Blazer’s Mills, and he was a friend of Lawrence Murphy.
As a result, when John Tunstall was murdered, it was believed that Buckshot was in on it. Tunstall was murdered on his way to Lincoln, and at the time, Roberts was actually at Tunstall’s ranch.
On learning that a warrant was out for his arrest, Roberts sold his ranch to someone from Sante Fe, and planned to leave the area. He stayed with a friend near Blazer’s Mills, while waiting for the check to arrive.
Blazer’s Mills was a complex founded by a dentist, Dr. Joseph Blazer. The complex consisted of several buildings: houses, a store, a post office, corrals, an office for the doctor, a sawmill, a grist mill, and other smaller buildings.
Roberts would ride his mule to the post office to see if the check had arrived.
On April 4, 1878, he rode into Blazer’s Mills and was warned that a large group of men had been seen on the trail. Blazer suspected that they were Regulators, friends of Tunstall who were out looking for his killers. Roberts told Blazer that he was hoping to get his money and then ride on to Las Cruces. Blazer told Roberts that he had best move on immediately, which he did.
Roberts later spotted the Regulators (they did not see him), but he also saw the mail buckboard. He headed back to Blazer’s Mills and scouted the area. He did not see the Regulators and assumed that they had moved on.
In fact, they did stop and were in one of the buildings having dinner. Their horses were in a corral with high sides and Buckshot didn’t see them.
Roberts was seen by the Regulators as he rode in. One of the Regulators, Frank Coe, went out to talk to Roberts about surrendering. Buckshot would have none of it. Billy the Kid was with the group, and Roberts thought that the Kid would kill him on sight.
 Dick Brewer
After about a half hour, Dick Brewer, the leader of the group, got impatient. He sent some of the men out to arrest Roberts. In the lead was Charley Bowdre. Bowdre challenged Roberts and both men fired at the same time. (Roberts was carrying a rifle.) Roberts’ shot hit Charley’s belt buckle, dropping Bowdre’s gun belt, and then ricocheted into George Coe’s right hand. Bowdre’s shot hit Buckshot n the stomach.
Others entered the fight, as Roberts, badly wounded, backed toward the door to Blazer’s office. On the way Buckshot put a bullet into John Middleton’s chest. (He died of the wound seven or eight years later.) Another shot hit Doc Scurlock’s holstered revolver. Still another shot creased Billy the Kid’s arm.
When Roberts’ Winchester clicked on empty, Billy charged Roberts, and got whacked with Buckshot’s rife for his trouble.
Once in the office, Roberts barricaded the door and took Blazer’s Springfield rifle off the wall.
Brewer, deciding to take matters into his own hands, circled around behind the office. He took position behind a wood pile and fired into the office. Roberts noticed the gun smoke rising from the logs. He aimed at the spot and waited for Brewer to stick his head up. When he did, Buckshot put a bullet through his eye.
Eventually, the Regulators, deciding that the cost of getting Roberts was too high, left.
The locals brought a doctor to tend to Roberts, but the wound was mortal. Buckshot died the next day.
He is buried in the Blazer Cemetery, in Mescalero, New Mexico, next to Dick Brewer.
On April 14, 1881, about 75 heavily armed Mexicans rode into El Paso, Texas. They were looking for two men, Juarique and Sanchez, who had been following 30 head of cattle that had been rustled in Mexico.
They asked constable Gus Krempkau to accompany them to the spread of Johnny Hale, a local rancher and known cattle rustler. They found the bodies of the two men along with three dead cattle in an outbuilding on the Hale ranch. The remains of the Mexicans were taken back to town.
An inquest was held that same day with Krempkau, who was fluent in Spanish, acting as interpreter. The determination was that the Mexicans had been murdered by rustlers because they feared that the two men would discover the cattle and return with a larger force.
Two rustlers, Fredericks and Pervey, had been overheard boasting of the killing and they were immediately arrested.
A trial was set for a latter date and the Mexicans left town, taking the bodies of Juarique and Sanchez with them.
After the court adjourned, Krempkau went next door to Keating’s Saloon. There he ran into Hale and Hale’s friend, former marshal George Campbell.
Campbell and Krempkau got into an argument over remarks made by Campbell about the constable’s translations during the inquest and about Gus’s friendship with the Mexicans.
An intoxicated Hale grabbed one of Campbell’s revolvers and yelled, “George, I’ve got you covered!” Hale then shot Krempkau who fell backwards against the saloon door.
 Dallas Stoudenmire Upon hearing the shot, Marshal Dallas Stoudenmire, who was having dinner across the street, drew his guns and ran to the saloon.
Hale took cover behind a post. Stoudenmire, apparently in an attempt to shoot Hale, fired and killed innocent bystander, J. A. Ochoa. When Hale peeked around the post, Stoudenmire fired again and hit Hale between the eyes.
Upon seeing Hale down, Campbell, as he exited the saloon with gun in hand, yelled, “Gentlemen, this is not my fight!”
Krempkau, although down and dying, fired at Cambell, hitting him twice – in the foot and the right wrist, causing him to drop his revolver.
Campbell reached down with his left hand to retrieve the pistol. Stoudenmire whirled and shot Campbell in the stomach three times.
As Campbell lay in the street, he said to Stoudenmire, “You son of a bitch, you murdered me!” The marshal made no reply.
In the space of five seconds, or so, four men died.
Three Texas Rangers witnessed the fight, but took no part. The said that they felt that the marshal had things well in hand.
A few days after the fight, deputy Bill Johnson tried to kill Stoudenmire. Johnson had earlier been humiliated by Stoudenmire, and James Manning, a friend of Hale and Campbell, had talked the deputy into the assassination attempt.
Unfortunately for Johnson, but fortunately for Stoudenmire, the deputy was drunk and fired his shotgun over the marshal’s head. Stoudenmire fired eight or nine rounds at Johnson, supposedly shooting off his testicles. Johnson died of blood loss.
Within a year and a half Stoudenmire was killed by Manning and his brothers. A jury, packed with friends of the killers, acquitted them.
Doc and Kate had rented a room at Fly’s boarding house. On October 26, 1881, a man with a rifle (later identified as Ike Clanton) entered the house looking for Doc. Mrs. Fly turned him away.
At about 3 o’clock in the afternoon, Kate heard gunfire outside. (It is doubtful that she actually saw the gunfight.) After the fight Doc, slightly wounded, entered the house and went into their room, where he sat on the bed and wept. Kate later said, “It was awful! Just awful!”
Big Nose Kate was born Mary Katherine Haroney (or Harony) on November 7, 1850, in Pest, Hungary, to Dr. Michael and Katharina Haroney.
In 1860 the family emigrated to the U.S. Supposedly Michael was offered a position as the personal physician to Emperor Maximilian I of Mexico. Whether he ever held the position or not, the family settled in Iowa in 1862.
 Big Nose Kate at 17 (left) After both parents died in 1863, the well educated Mary Katherine (she spoke several languages) and her siblings went to live with their older married sister.
In 1866 Kate ran away. She stowed away on a steamboat headed for St. Louis. She was discovered and the captain, a man named Fisher, took pity on Kate and took her under his protection.
According to Kate, she married a dentist, Silas Melvin, in St. Louis in 1869. They had a son and both father and son died of yellow fever.
There are, however, no records that support any of this. According to census records, there was a man named Silas Melvin in St. Louis at that time, but he was married to a woman named Mary Bust and worked in an asylum. Kate met Doc in the 1870′s and may have confused her facts.
By the mid 1870′s Kate was in Dodge City and going by the name of Kate Elder. Kate was allegedly fined for working as a “sporting woman” in a house run by the wife of James Earp. Whether Kate actually was a prostitute depends upon whom you talk to – some say “yes”, some say “no”.
In 1876 she moved to Ft. Griffin, Texas, where she met Doc at John Shanssey’s Saloon, where Doc was dealing cards. By this time she was known as Big Nose Kate.
At one point Doc was arrested for slashing a man named Ed Bailey with a knife during a poker game. The law kept Doc in a hotel, as there was no jail. To prevent local vigilantes from getting to Doc, Kate set fire to a shed as a distraction and then entered the hotel. She pointed a pistol at the deputy guarding Doc in order to free him. Later in life, Kate denied that this ever happened.
Doc and Kate went to Trinidad, Colorado, and to Las Vegas, New Mexico, where Doc worked as a barkeeper.
The pair met up with the Earps on their way to Arizona Territory. Doc and Kate stayed in Prescott, while the Earps went on to Tombstone.
Doc and Kate then split. Doc went to Tombstone. Kate went to Globe, where she ran a miner’s boarding house.
Kate visited Doc in Tombstone in July, 1881, and had a drunken fight with him. Doc was suspected of robbing a stage, so the local sheriff, Johnny Behan, offered Kate more whiskey in exchange for testimony against Doc. Doc was arrested, but Kate later recanted. Doc was released and Kate went back to Globe.
In October, 1881, Kate was with Doc at a fiesta in Tucson, when Morgan Earp rode in to warn Doc of possible trouble. Doc wanted Kate to stay in Tucson, but she refused, and went to Tombstone with him.
After the OK Corral fight, she visited Doc a few times before he left Tombstone in 1882.
After Doc’s death she married a blacksmith named George Cummings in Aspen, Colorado, on March 2, 1890 (or possibly 1888). They moved to Bisbee, where she ran a bakery. They later moved to Wilcox. Cummings was an abusive alcoholic, and they eventually separated. (Cummings committed suicide in 1915.)
In 1900 Kate moved to Cochise and worked at the Cochise Hotel.
In 1910 Kate moved into the Dos Cabezas, Arizona, homestead of miner John Howard. When Howard died in 1930, Kate was the executrix of his will.
In 1931 Kate applied for admission to the Arizona Pioneers’ Home in Prescott. The Home was established for ailing miners and destitute pioneers. Kate was neither. Also residents had to be U.S. born. Kate wasn’t. All of the residents were also male. Strike three for Kate. But with some help from an old friend, Gov. George Hunt, she got in.
Kate , one of the last links to Holliday, the Earps, and the OK Corral, died November 2, 1940. Her death certificate disputes her parents’ names and her place of birth. She may have given some false information in order to get into the Home.
Kate was buried on November 6, 1940, in the Arizona Pioneers’ Home Cemetery.
It was October 26, 1881 in Tombstone, Arizona Territory.
As the Earps and Doc Holliday walked down the street, the sheriff tried to stop them.
Wyatt would later say that the sheriff claimed that he had disarmed the Clantons and McLaurys. The sheriff would say that he had told the Earps that he had gone to disarm them, not that he actually had. (Frank McLaury had told the sheriff that he would turn over his gun only when Virgil Earp was disarmed.)
The Earp party pushed on by. The sheriff tagged along after them. Shortly thereafter the two sides met at an open lot. Thirty seconds later, four were dead (or dying), three were wounded. Only one man, Wyatt Earp, was uninjured.
If not for the gunfight that took place at (actually, near) the OK Corral, we probably would never have heard of many of the people involved.
One of those involved was the sheriff, Johnny Behan.
John Harris Behan was born on October 23, 1844 (or possibly October 25, 1845) in Westport (now part of Kansas City), Missouri.
He was the third of nine children of Peter and Sarah Behan.
As a young man he went to California. He later worked as a miner in Colorado, a freighter at Ft. Lowell outside of Tucson, and a bull whacker in Prescott.
In 1866 he became under sheriff to John Bourke of Yavapai County, AT. He later served as sheriff and served in the territorial legislature.
Behan married Victoria Zaff in 1869. They had two children, a daughter who died in childhood and a son Albert. John and Victoria divorced in 1875.
Behan moved to Tombstone in 1880. He worked as a bartender and purchased part interest in a corral (not the OK Corral).
In late 1880 Charles Shibell was elected sheriff of Pima County. He chose Behan as his under sheriff.
There were accusations of ballot stuffing in the election. Some of the Cowboys, Ike Clanton and Johnny Ringo, served as election officials in the San Simon precinct. The vote in that precinct was 103 – 1 for Shibell, the candidate favored by the Cowboys. It was later determined that there were only about 50 eligible voters in the precinct. The election results were thrown out in April, 1881.
Bob Paul, Shibell’s rival in the election, was appointed sheriff. But, by then, Behan had moved on to become sheriff of Cochise County.
Cochise County, which contained Tombstone, split off from Pima County in early 1881, and Behan was appointed sheriff.
Supposedly, Wyatt Earp had agreed not to campaign against Behan’s appointment, because Behan had agreed to appoint him as under sheriff. But Behan appointed Harry Woods instead.
Behan later stated that he had done so because of an incident involving a stolen horse. The horse belonged to Virgil Earp and was stolen by Billy Clanton. Wyatt went to recover the horse and told Clanton that he would get Behan after him, if he didn’t give up the horse. Behan happened to be riding to the Clanton ranch on other business at the time. The result was that it looked like Behan was supporting the Earps against the Clantons. This embarrassed Behan.
 John Behan A possible additional embarrassment for Behan, was losing his girl to Wyatt.
Josephine “Josie” Marcus arrived in Tombstone in 1879, prior to Wyatt’s arrival. (Despite the way that she was portrayed in the movie Tombstone, she was not really an actress. She did some acting, but was primarily a prostitute.) At that time, she met, and started seeing, Behan. When Wyatt arrived she started going with him.
There is some question about the timing. She seems to have spent some time in San Fransisco after breaking up with Behan and before going with Earp. So Earp may not have actually stolen her from Behan.
Regarding Behan’s involvement with the Cowboys: he did hire some as tax assessors and collectors and employ some as deputies.
He did make some effort to combat rustling, but only when it interfered with Cowboy business.
About five months after the OK Corral gunfight, Morgan Earp was murdered while playing pool. Doc Holliday suspected that Behan was in on it, and went after him, but did not find him.
A few days after Morgan’s death, Wyatt killed Frank Stilwell at the train station in Tuscon. Frank was apparently going to make an attempt on Virgil’s life – Virgil was boarding the train.
A posse lead by Behan went after Wyatt and his allies, but never made contact.
In late 1882, Behan had a feud with one of his deputies, Billy Breakenridge. The public, by this time, had lost faith in Behan and he lost the nomination for sheriff in the November, 1882 election. He never served as a lawman again.
In later years he was the deputy warden at Yuma Penitentiary. He was a quartermaster during the Spanish American War. He also worked as a US agent on the Texas border combating smuggling.
He died in Tucson in June, 1912 and is buried in Holy Hope Cemetery.
From the beginning, Olive and Mary Ann were well treated by the Mohave. On the first day of the trip to their village, the Indians did push the girls too hard and their feet were nicked and raw. But on the second day, the Mohave, upon realizing this, made shoes out of skins for the girls and covered less ground. Also, Topeka shared the blankets that she carried with the girls each night.
After eleven days, the party reached the Mohave’s valley, which the girls found quite beautiful. They were taken to the house of the local leader, Espaniole, Topeka’s father. (This was to become their house, as well.) After greeting Topeka as if she had been gone for months, Espaniole welcomed the girls to the village. They were taken outside and their arrival was celebrated by singing and dancing. This was not unusual; the Mohave always met strangers with hospitality.
The girls did many of the things that they had done with the Yavapai; they carried water and wood, and helped with the farming. But they also played – they played tag, played dice, swam in the Colorado, and climbed trees. The girls sang their Sunday school hymns, which greatly impressed the Mohave, who had high regard for singers. The Mohave even gave the girls presents for singing.
Their Mormon upbringing, however, did not prepare the girls for some of what they encountered. After a good harvest, there would be a feast. The Mohave would wear masks and paint their faces and dance until midnight. The next day they would eat. At one banquet, Olive “witnessed some of the most shameful indecencies, on the part of both male and female.”
The Mohave considered sex natural and fun. They even encouraged the young to engage in sexual activity, and many Mohave lost their virginity by the time they reached puberty. How much of this, if any, Olive entered into is unknown. She never said. Olive was adopted into the tribe and given a clan name, so the feeling today, is that she probably was sexually initiated into the tribe.
It is also unknown whether she ever married a Mohave or had any children. The mores of the late nineteenth century would have labeled her as hopelessly “damaged goods” if she had. So, again, she never spoke on the subject.
 Olive Oatman Fairchild The Mohave women wore chin tattoos as a passport to the afterlife. Both Olive and Mary Ann were tattooed. This is a further indication of their acceptance into the tribe. The Mohave did not tattoo anyone who did not want to be. (The picture at the right shows the tattoo – it was taken in Rochester, NY.)
In early 1854, Lt. Amiel Whipple, traveling with a group of more than one hundred scientists, soldiers, and guides, was sent to survey a railroad route from the Mississippi to the Pacific. In February he met some Mohave who took him to their village. There was much trading and the two groups freely mingled.
Strangely, he later said that he saw no white women while he was there. He never saw the Oatmans and they never approached him. If Olive was hidden from the survey party, she never mentioned it in her biography. If she was roaming freely among the whites with the other Mohave, why did she not make herself known to Whipple or anyone else? (If she was moving freely among the whites, she might very well not have been recognized as white – she wore only a bark skirt that went to her knees, she was tanned, and her light brown hair was dyed black with the gum of the mesquite tree.)
This episode likely shows Olive’s complete assimilation into the tribe – she might very well not have wanted to return to the white world. She was tattooed. And white society would probably have assumed the worst about her experiences with the Mohave. And, above all else, she had become Mohave.
Mary Ann was never to return to the white world. She had always been frail. At one point in 1853 she became too sick to work. In 1855, after several good years, there was a spring drought, and the Mohave found themselves with very little to eat. (The Mohave only grew what they needed and never put away excess for “a rainy day.”) People, mostly children, were dying. Mary Ann was one of them. When Mary Ann died, Olive had her buried where the two of them had gardened.
During their years with the Indians, the girls were not forgotten. Their brother, Lorenzo, survived the massacre.
After the initial attack, when the Yavapai were removing Lorenzo’s hat and shoes, he moaned. The Indians dragged him to the edge of the mesa and threw him off.
But Lorenzo did not die. The next morning he awoke, hurt and dazed. He managed to climb back up the mesa, and viewed the carnage. He realized that Olive and Mary Ann had been taken captive. He staggered off toward Maricopa Wells.
On the second day he was found by two friendly Pima Indians and escorted toward the town. On the way, they ran into the Kellys and the Wilders, two of the families that the Oatmans had traveled with.
The party returned to Maricopa Wells, feeling that it was too dangerous to continue. Eventually, with the protection of several army deserters who were heading west to look for gold, the two families, along with Lorenzo, headed to California.
At Fort Yuma, Lorenzo told his story. But, using one excuse or another, the commander refused to search for the girls.
Lorenzo stayed at the fort while the Kellys and Wilders pushed on, but eventually he also headed to California.
Through the years Lorenzo continued to try to get the authorities to search for his sisters – writing to the California government and the commander at Fort Yuma. Finally, in 1856, Lorenzo learned from a California rancher that a white woman was living with the Mohave.
In January 1856, Francisco, one of the Indians in the group that had first encountered the Whipple party, appeared at Fort Yuma, said that he knew where Olive was, and offered, for a price, to seek her release.
Negotiations with the Mohave did not go well. Espaniole did not want to let her go – he wanted to raise her. He also stated that the women of the tribe would be sad to see her go.
Francisco eventually became furious and said that millions of whites, hidden in the surrounding hills, would kill the Mohave, if the girl was not freed. The Mohave finally agreed, and for two horses, beads, and blankets, Olive was released. For a second time Olive was torn from her family.
After a trek of eleven days she reached Fort Yuma. Upon her return to civilization, she spoke well of the Mohave and her treatment with them. She was stunned to hear that Lorenzo was still alive.
Several weeks after her release she was reunited with her brother. After her release, much was written about her and she was reunited with other relatives as well.
Unfortunately, she came under the influence of a young reverend, Royal Byron Stratton. With Stratton’s help Olive wrote a book about her experiences. The contents of the book were at odds with Olive’s initial statements about the Mohave and her life with them. Stratton had his own agenda and was not a fan of the Indian.
Olive went on tour, giving lectures about her experiences, and promoting her book.
In 1865, she gave up touring. She was financially secure. And she broke ties with Stratton.
She met a Michigan farmer and rancher named John Brant Fairchild. They were married in Rochester, NY in November, 1865.
They moved to Sherman, Texas in 1872. Fairchild became rich. John was derscribed as handsome and distinguished; Olive as shy and reclusive – apparently never recovering from the sadness of her early experiences.
She did charity work, taking in children from the local orphanage. The Fairchilds adopted a girl that they named Mary Elizabeth. The Fairchilds never had any children of their own.
Olive battled eye trouble, headaches, and depression. She spent months in a sanatorium near Niagara Falls. She died of a heart attack in 1903 and is buried in the West Hill Cemetery in Sherman.
- Oatman AZ, is named for Olive. The name was changed from Vivian to Oatman after Olive’s death through the influence of a man named John Oatman, who claimed to be Olive’s Mohave son.
- For a much fuller account of Olive Oatman, see The Blue Tattoo – The Life of Olive Oatman by Margot Mifflin.
 They came to a steep ascent. The oxen balked. So the family unpacked the wagon and began to carry their possessions up the hill.
After the first load, they stopped for lunch; then continued to bring up their goods.
After the wagon was repacked, Lorenzo happened to look down the hill. He was the first to see them: nineteen Yavapai meandering up the hill. He alerted his father, Royce. Royce told the family not to be alarmed.
The Indians asked for tobacco. Royce shared a pipe with them. They also demanded food. Royce was hesitant, as his family had little, but he gave them some bread. They demanded more and started to search the wagon. Royce refused.
The Yavapai walked off to talk among themselves.
They pulled knives and clubs – it was over within a few minutes. Lorenzo and Royce were the first to go down. Royce’s wife, Mary Ann, and several of their children, Lucy, Roland, Royce Jr., and Charity Ann, followed. Only their daughters, Mary Ann and Olive, were not harmed. Seven-year-old Mary Ann had crumpled to the ground, crying into her hands. Fourteen-year-old Olive fainted.
It was February 18, 1851, on a mesa near the Gila River in, what would become, southern Arizona. It was also the beginning of the five-year captivity of Olive Ann Oatman.
The Oatmans were Mormons from Illinois. More Specifically, they were Brewsterites. The Brewsterites were a splinter sect that formed in 1837. James C. Brewster, eleven-years-old at the time, claimed to have had divine revelations.
Brewster claimed that there was a “promised land” at the mouth of the Colorado River: fertile, wooded, and temperate. He also claimed that the Indians in the area were friendly. He was wrong on all counts.
Eventually, Brewster decided to lead his followers to this “promised land” and, in May, 1850, the Oatmans started west. Collecting some families along the way, they arrived in Independence, Missouri, in June. The Brewsters arrived in mid-July.
The party consisted of about ninety people: a dozen or so families and some bachelors.
They finally set off in early August – a very late start for a cross-country trek.
About one hundred miles into the trip the squabbling began. Some wearied of the monotony of travel, some worried about Indians. There were also religious arguments. And at some point, Brewster had a new revelation: the “promised land” wasn’t at the mouth of the Colorado, it was on the Rio Grande near Socorro, Mexico.
In early October, the party divided. Brewster wanted to go to Santa Fe to pick up his mail. About thirty people went with him. The rest, including the Oatmans, pressed on.
In early November, the two parties met in Socorro. The Oatman party went on without Brewster and his group.
The Oatmans arrived in Tucson in early January. Five families stayed there to farm and wait for other emigrant trains. The Oatmans and two other families moved on, after spending about a month in Tucson.
They arrived in Maricopa Wells in early February. Travel from there was dangerous and the other two families decided to stay. But Oatman, who by now had given up the idea of a “promised land” on the Colorado, wanted to go to the goldfields in California. And, after having covered fifteen hundred miles with only two hundred to go, he decided to push on. It was a fatal mistake. About two weeks later, he, and most of his family, would die on the mesa.
The Yavapai ransacked the wagon and looted the dead. After about an hour they pushed the barefoot girls – the Indians did not want to leave any shoe prints for anyone to follow – down the hill to begin a sixty-mile four-day march.
During the march the Indians killed the Oatman’s stock and ate them. (The reason for the Oatman attack was probably hunger. The drought during the previous year had left little for the Yavapai to eat in late winter.)
The march was grueling. The Indians kept a fast pace. The girls’ feet bled. Mary Ann collapsed and couldn’t go on. She was beaten. Olive pleaded for her sister and one of the warriors carried Mary Ann.
When they reached the Yavapai village the sisters were surrounded by the tribe. The Yavapai yelled and spit at them, and threw dirt at them. Some even slapped them.
Captives were taken for various reasons. In the case of the Oatman sisters it was to be slaves. For the next year they carried water and wood, and dug roots. They did whatever they were told to do.
Over time they learned the Yavapai language and, as a result, became a source of entertainment to the Indians. The Yavapai asked many questions about them, whites, in general, and white society. Because of their entertainment value, they were treated somewhat better.
In the fall of 1851, the Mohave came to trade with the Yavapai. Seeing the girls, the Mohave wanted to trade for them. But an agreement couldn’t be reached and the Mohave left.
After the Mohave departure, the Yavapai discussed trading the girls. They didn’t want the U.S. government to find out about the massacre, and thought that trading the sisters to the Mohave, a remote tribe, might forestall this.
Meanwhile, Mary Ann, who had been prone to sickness back in Illinois, caught a bad cold during the winter. Olive wondered if she would live to be traded.
In the spring of 1852 six Mohave came back to barter for the girls. One of the six was the chief’s seventeen-year-old daughter, Topeka.
For two horses, three blankets, vegetables, and beads, Mary Ann and Olive changed hands. It was to be for the better. Their lives would improve and Olive would eventually be reunited with someone she thought was long dead.
At about 4:00 PM on August 2, 1876, John “Jack” McCall walked into Nuttal & Mann’s No. 10 saloon in Deadwood, South Dakota, and shot James Butler “Wild Bill” Hickok in the back of the head.
Jack McCall was born in 1852 or 1853 (or was it 1850?). He was raised, along with three sisters, in Jefferson County, Kentucky. He drifted west and was working as a buffalo hunter on the Kansas-Nebraska border by about 1869.
By 1876 he was living in Deadwood, using the name Bill Sutherland.
He was described as having thick chestnut hair, a small sandy mustache and goatee, a double chin, a snub-nose, and crossed-eyes. (The drawing at the right is based upon that description. There is (or was) a picture that hangs in a Deadwood saloon that is supposedly McCall. But the photo has no provenance and does not match the description.)
On August 1, 1876, McCall was in the No. 10. When a seat in a poker game became available, Jack sat in. McCall was drunk and lost all of his money. He couldn’t cover his losses – he was, according to one of the men there, $16.50 short. Hickok, who was in the game, advised him to not gamble if he couldn’t cover his losses and offered him some money for breakfast. McCall refused.
On August 2, Hickock entered the No. 10, and sat in on a poker game that was already in progress. Supposedly, Hickok liked to sit with his back to the wall, so that no one could get behind him – Hickok was a man with enemies. But the seat that Hickok wanted was occupied by Charlie Rich, and Rich refused to give it up.
McCall walked into the saloon and went to the bar, standing behind Hickok. He pulled out, according to some that were there, a Navy revolver. He shouted, “Damn you! Take that!”, and shot Hickok. The ball went through Hickok’s head and entered the wrist of Capt. William Massie, a former Missouri River pilot. (Some say that he refused to have the ball removed, and carried it in his wrist for the rest of his life.) McCall ran out of the saloon but was found hiding in a butcher shop and was taken prisoner.
At the ensuing trial, McCall claimed that Hickok had killed his brother in Abilene, Kansas. (After the second trial – keep reading! – it was discovered that McCall didn’t have a brother.) Despite the testimony of those present at the killing, the jury, after a two hour deliberation, found McCall innocent.
After the trial McCall went to work on a placer claim in Whitewood gulch.
When one of Hickok’s friends, Moses “California Joe” Milner, heard about the murder, he went to see McCall. California Joe told McCall that he had twenty-four hours to leave Deadwood, or else.
McCall took the hint and went to Wyoming.
Col. George May, who had prosecuted McCall in Deadwood, was furious with the verdict. He followed McCall to Laramie and heard him boast about getting away with Hickok’s murder. A bench warrant was obtained and McCall was arrested by Deputy U.S. Marshal Balcombe on August 29 and taken to Yankton.
The federal authorities in Yankton refused to recognize the legality of the trial in Deadwood. And since Deadwood was an illegal settlement in Indian territory, with no legally constituted law enforcement or court system, double jeopardy did not apply.
McCall decided to turn state’s evidence. He said that a gambler named Varnes had hired him to kill Hickok. According to McCall, Varnes and Hickok had had a row in Denver and it had continued in Deadwood. The claim was investigated, but nothing came of it.
McCall was retried, found guilty on December 6, and hanged on March 1, 1877. When the noose was placed around his neck, he said. “Draw it tighter, Marshal.” And as the trap was sprung, he was heard to say, “Oh, God!”
Jack McCall was the first person to be executed by federal authorities in Dakota Territory.
He was buried in a Catholic cemetery. When his body was moved at a later date, it was found that he was buried with the noose still around his neck.
One last point: aces and eights – the “dead man’s hand.” Was that the hand that Hickok held went he was killed? Likely not. There are no contemporary reports to support the claim. No one who was present when Hickok was killed mentioned “aces and eights.”
In the 1920′s Ellis T. Peirce, a barber in Deadwood who served as coroner and arranged for a coffin for Hickok, told Frank Wilstach, the author of a book on Hickok, that “Wild Bill” was holding “aces and eights” and referred to that as the “dead man’s hand.” But Peirce wasn’t in the saloon when Hickok was killed.
Harry Young, the bartender at No. 10, who was there when Hickok was murdered, said that he had just given Hickok $15 worth of chips and had turned back to the bar, when he heard a shot. He turned to see McCall standing behind Hickok holding a gun. He stated, in a book that he wrote in 1915, that Hickok held four sevens.
Whatever Hickok held, it wasn’t lucky!
Judge Roy Bean was born Phantly Roy Bean, Jr. in 1825 in Mason County, Kentucky. He was the youngest of three sons of Phantly and Anna Bean.
He led a very colorful life. At about age 16 he left home and took a flatboat down to New Orleans, where he got into trouble and fled to San Antonio. There he joined his brother Sam and worked as a freighter.
In 1848, Sam and Roy opened a saloon/trading post in Chihuahua, Mexico. Depending upon whom you believe, he fled to Sonora because he was wanted for cattle rustling or for shooting a Mexican who had threatened to kill a gringo. In 1849 Roy went to California to live with his other brother, Joshua.
 Judge Roy Bean Joshua was elected the first mayor of San Diego in 1850. He appointed Roy as a lieutenant in the state militia. And Roy worked in his brother’s saloon, the Headquarters.
Roy, who apparently was quite the lady’s man (hard to tell from the photo), got into a duel with a man named Collins. Collins was slightly wounded and both men were arrested. While in jail, Roy received many gifts from the local ladies. The last gift he received was a pair of knives hidden in some tamales. Roy dug through the jail wall and escaped.
He went to San Gabriel, where the Headquarters was located, and tended bar. When his brother was killed, Roy inherited the saloon.
In 1854 a lady that he was courting was kidnapped and forced to marry a Mexican officer. Roy challenged the officer to a duel and killed him. Some of the officer’s friends tried to hang Roy. They put him on a horse and put a noose around his neck. Then they road away. The horse did not bolt, as they supposed it would, and the bride came out from behind a tree and cut the rope. Roy was left with a permanent rope burn and a permanent stiff neck. (Could have been worse!)
Roy then went to live with Sam in New Mexico, where Sam was the sheriff of Dona Ana County. In 1861 Sam and Roy opened a store/saloon in Pinos Altos.
During the Civil War, Roy either rode with a group of irregulars called the Forty Rovers (known to the locals as the Forty Thieves, since they seemed more intent on robbery than fighting the Union army) or he ran the blockade hauling cotton from San Antonio to British ships off the coast of Matamoros. Which depends upon whom you talk to.
He spent the next twenty years in San Antonio working at various jobs. He ran a firewood business (he cut down his neighbor’s timber), a dairy business (he watered the milk), and he worked as a butcher (he rustled unbranded cattle from the area ranches).
In 1866 he married eighteen-year old Virginia Chavez. The had four (maybe five) children. They lived in a Mexican slum called Beantown. It was named after Roy and it wasn’t a complement (see the paragraph above).
By the late 1870′s Roy was separated from his wife and was running a saloon in Beantown. He sold the saloon and went west to Vinegaroon (scorpion), near the Pecos River. Vinegaroon was a construction camp for the Southern Pacific, which was extending the rails west.
In 1882 he was appointed justice of the peace (some say he appointed himself) for Precinct No. 6, Pecos County. His saloon was his place of business, home, and courtroom. He put up a sign on the saloon that said Law West Of The Pecos. He used only one law book, The Revised Statutes Of Texas. He allowed no hung juries or appeals. Jurors, chosen from the bar customers, were expected to buy drinks during recess.
An Irishman named O’Rourke killed a Chinese laborer. Two hundred Irish workers surrounded the court to make sure that O’Rourke was acquitted. Roy, being practical, casually thumbed through his law book. Finally he stated that there were many prohibitions against homicide, but there wasn’t anything specific about killing a Chinese. Case dismissed!
In December of 1882, he moved to Strawbridge and then to Eagle’s Nest, which was renamed Langtry. Roy said that he named it after Lillie Langtry, an English actress, with whom he was enamoured. Actually, it was probably named after a railroad engineer by that name.
He named his saloon the Jersey Lily, also after Lillie Langtry. (The misspelling was apparently the fault of the sign maker.) He was elected to the position of justice of the peace off and on for the next twenty years. Even when he wasn’t elected he continued to “hold” office. There was no jail, so all convictions resulted in fines, which he kept. The state of Texas never got its fair share. His response to the state’s demands was, “My court is self sustaining.”
When a worker died after falling three hundred feet from a viaduct, Roy didn’t feel that the $5 coroner’s fee was adequate. When the body was searched, a revolver and $40 were found. Roy fined the corpse $40 for carrying a concealed weapon.
He only sentenced two men to hang, and one of those escaped. Horse thieves, regularly hung in other areas, were freed, if the horse was returned. He had the power to marry, but not the power to grant a divorce. But he did it anyway, saying that he should have the power to rectify his mistakes. By the way, at the end of a marriage ceremony, he would say, “And may God have mercy on your souls!” (the usual end to a death sentence).
In 1890 Roy heard that Jay Gould was going to pass by on a special train. Roy stopped the train. Gould and his daughter spent the next two hours in the saloon. This caused a brief panic on Wall Street when it was reported that Gould had been killed in a train accident.
By the late 1890′s boxing matches were illegal in Texas and Mexico. So in 1896 Roy organized a championship match between Bob Fitzsimmons and Peter Maher to take place on a sandbar in the Rio Grande. The Texas Rangers looked on helplessly from a nearby bluff. The fight only lasted about a minute and a half, but the reports made Bean famous throughout the United States.
Bean spent money to help the poor and made sure that the local school’s wood box was always full.
Roy Bean died on March 16, 1903, after a bout of heavy drinking. He is buried with one of his sons in Del Rio, Texas.
As a post script, Roy always told the locals that Lillie Langtry would come and visit. Ten months after Roy’s death, she did. She spent time listening to stories about Roy. She later said that her stay was short, but unforgettable.
For those of you have seen the movie Tombstone (if you haven’t, see it or turn in your spurs), you may remember that after Morgan Earp’s death, Wyatt went on a vendetta ride. According to the movie, the others on the vendetta ride were Doc Holliday, Sherman McMasters, “Texas Jack” Vermillion, and “Turkey Creek” Jack Johnson. (There were apparently others; Warren Earp for one.)
We’ll start with “Turkey Creek” Jack. (If you thought the article on Etta Place had a lot of “ifs” and “maybes”, hang on for this one.)
Most of what we know about “Turkey Creek” Jack comes from testimony given by Wyatt in 1926. This was in connection with the estate of Lotta Crabtree. And he was talking about things that happened 45 years earlier!
Johnson was born in 1847. Or was it 1852? Depends upon whom you talk to. When he was in Tombstone in 1881, he was known to be 34. So I guess we’ll go with 1847.
According to Wyatt, Johnson’s real name was John Blunt (or Blount – there’ll be a test later, so pay attention). Johnson and his brothers were involved in a street fight in a town in Missouri. Following the altercation, they hightailed it out of the state.
In 1876 Johnson may have been in Deadwood, where he killed two men with two bullets in a gunfight. There is, however, no written record of this.
There is a record of a marshal named Jack Johnson who killed a man in a gunfight in Nebraska in 1872. This same man, known as John Johnson, could have been the John Johnson that was listed in the Tombstone 1880 Census. If so, then he might be our “Turkey Creek” Jack. Maybe.
It is believed that Johnson first came to Arizona on a cattle drive in 1878. Also on the drive were Pony Diehl, “Curly Bill” Brocius, and Sherman McMasters.
It is not certain how he met Wyatt. (Surprised?) According to Wyatt, Lotta was friendly with a woman in Tombstone that Wyatt thought was Johnson’s sister. Wyatt, therefore, might have met Johnson through mutual acquaintances.
Again according to Wyatt, Johnson asked for help in getting Bud (Alan) Blunt (Blount) out of Yuma prison. Bud was in for manslaughter, and Johnson wanted Wyatt to help him petition the governor for Bud’s release. Wyatt apparently believed that Bud was Johnson’s brother, and, therefore, John Johnson was really John Blunt (Blount).
On March 20, 1882, Johnson left Tombstone on the train that carried Virgil Earp and Morgan’s body. He was there when Frank Stilwell was killed and was later indicted, in absentia, along with others, for the killing.
The next morning, Johnson went with Wyatt and others on the vendetta ride.
After the vendetta ride, Johnson went to Colorado and Texas. He supposedly died in Salt Lake City; possibly in 1887. Or was it 1906? Either way, I’m fairly certain that he’s no longer with us.
Oh, by the way, was he ever actually called “Turkey Creek” Jack? Wyatt referred to him as Jack or John Johnson or John Blunt (Blount). Stuart Lake, in his biography of Wyatt, referred to him as “Turkey Creek” Jack, but who knows where he got that from. Much of what Lake wrote is questionable. He might have made up the name.
Let’s move on to “Texas Jack” Vermillion, where we’re on firmer ground.
John Wilson Vermillion was born in Russell County, Virginia, in 1842. He was the second of 12 children.
He fought for the Confederacy during the Civil War, serving under J. E. B. Stuart. (The accompanying photo is Jack during the Civil War.)
After the war he moved to Indiana and, on September 6, 1865, married Margaret Horton.
 Texas Jack Vermillion They moved to Missouri, where Jack served as a territorial marshal. While away on business, his wife and two children contracted diphtheria and died. Distraught, Jack headed west to Kansas.
He might (here we go again) have met the Earps and Doc Holliday while in Dodge City.
Jack went to Tombstone and served as a special policeman under Virgil Earp on June 22, 1881; the day of the large Tombstone fire.
He was not on the train with Virgil and Morgan’s body. He did, however, join the others on the vendetta ride the next day.
He was present at the killing of Florentino Cruz and he had a horse shot out from under him at the Iron Springs fight where “Curly Bill” was killed.
In 1883 he killed a man in an argument during a card game. The resulting reward poster referred to him as “Texas Jack” Vermillion. This was the first known reference to the “Texas Jack” nickname. Supposedly when asked once why he was called “Texas Jack”, he replied, “Because I’m from Virginia.” (Western humor!?)
Sometime later he became known as “Shoot-Your-Eye-Out” Vermillion – presumably because he shot someone in the eye; or maybe because he was a really good shot. Either way, it doesn’t have the ring that “Texas Jack” does.
He returned to Virginia and married Nannie Fleenor in 1883. They had two children, Opie and Minnie Bell. (Aren’t you glad that Jack wasn’t your dad?)
In 1888 he joined the Soapy Smith gang in Colorado. In August, 1889, he was involved in the Pocatello, Idaho, train depot shootout where a rival gang tried to snuff out Soapy.
Shortly thereafter, he left the gang and returned to Virginia where he worked as a Methodist preacher.
There is some question regarding his death. (You knew this was going too smoothly, didn’t you?)
Some sources say that he drowned in Lake Michigan in 1900. The family records, however, say that he died in his sleep on January 7, 1911. The family has a picture of Jack and Nannie from 1910. We’re going with the family on this one.
Mr. and Mrs. John Wilson “Texas Jack” Vermillion are buried in Mendota, Virginia.
* This was the way Kevin Costner referred to Johnson and Vermillion in the movie Wyatt Earp.
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