In the event you were on a train, wagon, or stagecoach in America during the mid to late 1800’s, there was a looming concern that you would be attacked by highwaymen. I’ve detailed many such occurrences over the last year. Arizona Territory was no stranger to this trouble, and I think I’ve figured out why. Bandits are attracted to spinning wheels. Just can’t get enough of them.

In May of 1889, one band of outlaws were so enamored with spinning wheels that they brazenly attacked a military convoy.

Father and son outlaw team Gilbert and Wilfred Webb, had been trying to live on the straight-and-narrow by accepting a government contract to supply straw and barley to the Army. However, the two needed cash to make it happen. So, they hatched a plan to steal an Army payroll. Seems fitting.
The Webb’s, along with about ten local area cowboys, spent some time fortifying an area on the road between Fort Thomas and Fort Grant. When the fateful day came, Lt. Joseph Wham led a detachment of eleven Buffalo Soldiers out of Fort Grant with the Army payroll. Now, soldiers aren’t fond of having their hard-earned money stolen, so when the Webb gang opened fire on them. they fought back fiercely. However, the gang’s fortifications gave them the advantage and the soldiers were forced to retreat. Webb and his contingent escaped with the $28,000 in gold and silver.

This wasn’t a sad day for the Buffalo Soldiers, however. Although many were wounded, none were killed. Two were awarded the Medal of Honor for their bravery during the ambush.

Ah…but what of the robbers? Deputy Marshal William Kidder Meade and the Graham County Sheriff caught up with them and the Webb gang went on trial here in Tucson. Amazingly, no one was charged and the money wasn’t recovered. As you can guess, this was quite the outrage. Turns out that Gilbert Webb was actually a Mayor of Pima, Arizona. Scandalous! Somehow the story was spun as a Robin Hood kind of thing, and to keep the political parties appeased it was all swept under the rug.

Lt. Wham was blamed for the loss of the dough, but even he got off with a slap on the wrist.

So, no accountability anywhere, and some soldiers got recognized for their hard work. Maybe the Army should have just given the money to Webb to begin with. Would’ve saved all the trouble!

Col. Isaiah Mays received the Medal of Honor for his bravery.

I think we can all agree that Arizona Territory was truly the epitome of the wild west. Just about every manner of trouble could be found here, and settlers were constantly having to deal with it. Law was scarce in most parts, and soldiers had their hands full chasing renegade Indians. If you were an outlaw, and you were caught, your captors would in all likelihood lynch you. Option #2 was back-breaking time in a disease-ridden prison. Option #3 was you shot it out on the street with Glenn Ford, and he painlessly put you in Boot Hill. Maybe option #3 is a stretch. Let’s explore option #2.

In 1876, the first prisoners at the newly constructed territorial prison in Yuma entered through the gates to serve their sentences. There were murderers, thieves, embezzlers, adulterers, and even criminals charged with “seduction under the promise of marriage.” Wow…not even sure what that is. I think I may have done it in my youth, though.

Yuma’s prison was state-of-the-art. It sported a hospital, library, and by 1885 electric blowers to cool the cells. However, it was still a hellhole. Six prisoners to a cell, a bucket for their waste, lice, bedbugs, consumption, you name it.  There were plenty of rules to go around, too. If you didn’t follow them you wore a ball and chain or got thrown into the “dark cell”. Incidentally, the dark cell had a bit of a scorpion problem, so it was preferable to be on your good behavior.

Some famous inmates were Pearl Hart, “Buckskin” Frank Leslie, and William “Three-Finger Jack” Loustaunau. Three-Finger, or Jack, or William (whatever they called him), led an escape attempt in 1904. Oddly enough, the prison butcher came to the rescue and slashed one of the inmates who was attacking the superintendent. The escape didn’t succeed, and Three-Finger Jack died two years later of heat prostration.

Out of 140 escape attempts at the territorial prison, 26 succeeded. Practically a 20% success rate, which seems like a lot to me. Considering the conditions at the prison and high death rate, it might have been preferable to at least give escaping a chance. Hey, if it worked for Russell Crowe in 3:10 to Yuma, it could be worth a shot.

By 1909, over-crowding led to the closure of the prison. Many of the convicts built the new prison in Florence and were moved there. Today you can tour the prison museum and get a feel of what the place was like. Many of the buildings have been renovated or excavated, and they have displays with items used there. Experiencing the dark cell and walking the grounds is certainly enough to put you on the straight and narrow.

Main cell area of Yuma’s Territorial Prison

I think we realize there wasn’t a six-o’clock news in Arizona when it was a territory. There also wasn’t CNN.com. If you wanted to know what was going on in the world or in your township, you had to read a newspaper. Sure, incoming stagecoach and train passengers had some info, but they weren’t as reliable as print. Old Pete the miner could relay a story about an indian attack as he downed a glass of coffin varnish, but the paper was solid. Mostly.

With towns sprouting up in frontier Arizona, the need for newspapers was escalating. Hopeful journalists from the east were heading out to start papers. Our own Tucson Citizen was founded in 1870 by Richard McCormick and John Wasson. Back then it was known as the Arizona Citizen. Up until it became an online publication, it was known as the oldest continuously published newspaper in Arizona. That honor has now been passed on to the famous Tombstone Epitaph (founded in 1880 and still going). Now, the oldest newspaper in our state award actually goes to Tubac’s Arizonian, published in 1859. Incidentally, it moved to Tucson and closed its doors in 1871. The original printing press (Arizona’s first) can be found at the Tubac Presidio Museum.

Okay, it’s starting to sound like a weird awards ceremony. Oh heck, I’ll keep it in.

Other notable newspapers are the Weekly Journal Miner, Arizona Weekly Star, Phoenix Herald, and Tombstone Prospector (to name a few). Some titles that amused me are Ferrocarril, Tucsonense, and Fronterizo. I’ll bet the crossword puzzles were good in those periodicals.

Thanks to the Arizona Historical Society and its library, many of these historic newspapers can be read on microfilm. Researchers use them to verify dates, places, witnesses, etc. Most times, this is the only proof we have of certain events. In a recent post I mentioned author David Grassé  just published a book on Commodore Perry Owens. David’s intrepid research found him searching through many, many historic newspapers to get the facts. Due to articles and “blurbs” we can trace Sheriff Owens’ footsteps through time.

If you are interested in seeing more newspaper history, the Tombstone Epitaph museum displays type cases, composing stones, casting machines, and printing presses. All stuff that the historical journalism aficionado will love. If you’ve never learned about leading and kerning, it’s pretty fascinating stuff.

Old Tucson Studios is having it’s last hurrah until after the summer. This coming weekend is the Wild West Performing Arts competition. Whip crackers, gun spinners, rope twirlers, and knife throwers battle it out to see who is the best. Of course the public is welcome to attend, and I encourage you to do so. The kids will love it, and I bet you will, too.

Arizona’s Oldest Printing Press in Tubac

In the heyday of Western cinema, you could attend a double feature of your famous stars and use up an entire Saturday. You wouldn’t go just to see the gunfights and “save-the-day” plots, but also to marvel at the other skills the actors presented. You would catch rope tricks, gunspinning, and even a highly trained horse who could do just about everything except flip pancakes (no fingers).

Some of these special skills were originally developed by cowboys as a way to entertain each other during down time. Later on, folks like Buffalo Bill and Pawnee Bill would seek out these artists to perform in their traveling shows.

So, I’ve been to Old Tucson Studios every weekend for a month, now. Some of the employees probably think I work there. I made it to the 50th Gunfighters Reunion and watched an incredibly produced show that included bad guys coming in on horseback, rumbling stagecoaches, and a fight scene with 50 people ranging in ages from 25 to 65. Oh, I almost forgot the explosions! 86 year-old stunt coordinator Frank Young touched off a canon and saved the day. If you can imagine the thrill for us spectators, think about the great time the actors were having. I could tell that Entertainment Manager Rob Jensen was having trouble hiding the smile on his face that day (he was also performing in the skit, and tough gunfighters don’t smile).

Last Saturday was their Wild West Days, and the crowds came out for that, too. For entertainment, there was Tucson’s own Loop Rawlins spinning guns, cracking whips, and twirling ropes. This man is the future of the Old West arts, and performs nationally with other notables like Joey Dillon, and Johnny ‘Hotshot” Mincks (also a past stunt man at Old Tucson). Their performances directly impact children’s interest in the Old West. Kids are typically in awe, and walk away practicing their roping and gun-twirling skills with their toy ropes and cap guns.

Cecil Manuel, a famous traditional Native American dancer, entertained and educated the masses in his colorful garb. There were Buffalo Soldiers, musicians, and living history demonstrations. All centered around the heritage and culture of the Old West.

At one point, my roguish cohort and I were enjoying time out of the sun on benches near the Sheriff’s office. A lady and her young son caught our period garb and asked if we were doing the Lawmen of the West lecture.We informed them that we weren’t, and they had missed it by ten minutes. The boy looked crestfallen, so we regaled him with the story of Sheriff Pete Gabriel and Deputy Joe Phy, and that fateful day they shot it out on a Florence, Arizona street in 1888. That appeased them and they ran off to catch a show.
That got me to thinking about one of the reasons I do what I do. Many of us performers are concerned with the entertainment factor. Were we good? Did the audience like it? Is my fly buttoned? What we tend to forget is that we are passing on a legacy. Whether we’re spinning ropes, falling off of buildings, or just there for ambiance, we are educating some young man or woman. Maybe one of them will catch the bug and carry the torch. Hey, if it happened to me at Old Tucson in 1979, it can happen to anyone!

Buffalo Soldiers and Tohono O’Dham getting ready to raise the flag.

You might remember me writing this time last year about the mining town of Superior and its annual Apache Leap Mining Festival.  This year my group of gunslinging rapscallions was invited back to provide some street entertainment. I also remembered to bring a camera, to capture some of the architecture of the Old West era. I haven’t received the results of the famed Chihuahua races this year, but they are forthcoming.

Last weekend was busy in Tucson, too. The Wild Wild WestCon II at Old Tucson Studios, and the International Festival of Books at U of A. Tons to do. New folks to meet.  At Old Tucson, I marveled at the sub-culture that is known as Steampunk. Mixing the romance of the Victorian era with steam-powered gadgetry made for some nifty costumes and amusing entertainment. While there, I met an older gentleman who was a train conductor in the final years of steam-powered locomotives. Much to my dismay, he was never robbed by masked men on horseback (yeah, I asked).

The book festival supports new authors and publishers from all over. I was fortunate to receive a new book titled, The True, Untold Story of Commodore Perry Owens. The author, David Grassé is a on old friend of my wife’s, and is rapidly becoming one of mine. Having touched on Owens’ gunfight in Holbrook a few months ago, it is exciting to read a published account from one who has done so much painstaking research.

As I was reading David’s book last night (he lets me call him David), it was evident that the area I’ve been mentioning in previous entries was rife with more violence than I realized. Not only were homesteaders protecting themselves from rampaging outlaw gangs and errant bullets from the Graham-Tewksbury hostilities, but also the Navajo indians. In the late 1890’s, Chief B’ugoettin of the Navajo Nation was fighting his own little war with cattleman to get control of more land (named the Leupp Extension). A posse was sent out to serve a warrant and a bloody shootout occurred. Apparently, the posse intruded upon one of the Chief’s hunting camps, and the braves responded with gunfire. One posse member was killed, and a couple more wounded. The indians suffered heavier casualties. In the aftermath, the fear of retaliation was so great that Flagstaff was fortified. Thankfully, it all ended peacefully with the Navajo hunters convincing a judge that they were the victims in the incident. Not long after, they were granted the Leupp Extension and the hostilities ceased. I will mention that the Navajos traveled to Washington D.C. to fight for this land.

So, there’s the tidbit of history. This entry is bordering on blathering, which bothers me. One last thing, and I’ll let you go. This coming Saturday Old Tucson will host 50 years of Gunfighters, where stuntmen over the last five decades will punch, kick, and shoot it out on the film set’s streets once more. The following weekend is the Wild West Days festival with “special guests demonstrating the skills the cowboys needed to survive and the contributions to the western way of life made by the cultures that left their marks on the American West.”  There ya go!  A couple of outdoor events to stir up your interest before the weather gets too hot.

Couple of neat old buildings in Superior

For the past nine years during the Tucson Rodeo season I am asked to speak at the elementary school my lovely wife teaches at. The subject is the 1880‘s cowboy, and since I can only hold their attention for about 20 minutes, It’s more of a condensed comparison to today’s cowboy. I don my 1880’s attire complete with authentic tools that Victorian era cowboys carried with them. Some of these items are antiques, some are faithful reproductions. Everything I bring with me has a place in my oration.

At the end, the students file by the table with the goodies on it, handling everything and asking questions. The children typically write thank you letters noting what they learned during the presentation. These letters are a kind of feedback which has helped me and my wife fine tune the lesson. For instance, over the last couple of years I have presented hard tack, an instant favorite. So popular, in fact, that my wife obtained a recipe and made it for the students to try. They don’t seem interested to try mine. Maybe because it’s five years old. Relatively young for hard tack, I’d say. But you can’t please everyone.

I don’t claim to understand what goes through the minds of our youth, but this year I watched in shock as my hard tack paled in comparison to a 3¢ coin from 1881.

Is it really 3¢? In one coin? Wow! 3¢ could really buy something? 

Yes, indeed. You could buy an egg, maybe some butter, or even an orange. In a typical cowtown, one could purchase a beer for a quarter, and a pound of rice for 9¢. By the way, my examples are adding up to a very strange meal. Iron Chef, Old West style.

You have to consider the cost of living back then. A cowboy earned about $30 a month. Lawmen made a similar salary. Soldiers only earned about $13 a month. Merchants were no doubt making more, but then they also had overhead to contend with. As you can guess, there weren’t a lot of 401k plans going on in the wild west.

Boomtowns, like Tombstone or Deadwood, were centered around the mining industry. Due to the pricey ore being pulled from the ground, businessmen would charge more. Law of supply and demand applied, and everyone paid it.

Kind of like today, eh?

By the 1880’s, Tucson was a bustling little burg. There were plenty of shops, restaurants, banks, and saloons to go around. Putting an ad in the Arizona Weekly Citizen ran $2.25, a hefty amount back then. Consider that in the 1800’s, reading a newspaper was the primary way to get news. To advertise in the paper was a smart investment. Probably even a necessary one, if you were in a big town.

In 2013, 3¢ may not buy you much of anything, but it intrigues us how our great grandparents valued money. It opens our children up to learning about history and economy. To me, that is encouraging.

OK, time to go make some hard tack.

This week I had the thrill of being featured in a western movie filming at Old Tucson Studios. The film is titled Hot Bath an’ a Stiff Drink, and I play a guard who is forced to relinquish the money he’s protecting during a train robbery. The stellar crew was able to fix up the famous Reno train and bring it to life belching smoke and hissing steam. For a western nut, that’s one for the bucket list.

When working in film or television, you have to learn to wait. There was a lot of down time and it got my mind to thinking about this entry. After my wonderful experience, I did some research and found an interesting train robbery that occurred in our great state.

On March 20, 1889, four masked men stopped the Sante Fe Railroad near Canyon Diablo and stole $1500. Remember Canyon Diablo? Outlaw haven? Marshals don’t live long? Shootouts daily? Well, it was also the stomping grounds for the Hashknife cowboy outfit, and they just happened to be the culprits.

At the time, Yavapai County’s sheriff was Buckey O’Neill, and he was put on the trail. The outlaws were easy for Buckey to track, since snowfall shows hoof prints pretty well. When the posse finally caught up to them, they were in Utah. After a five-day running battle, the bandits gave it up near a town called Cannonville. Nobody was killed and the money was recovered.

This event put Buckey O’Neill at the top of the charts, and he continues to be a hit in Old West history to this day. In an interview with Tucson’s Star newspaper about the train robbers, Buckey described them as, “the worst desperadoes that ever operated in this western country.” An interesting side note: one of the alleged bandits, James Smith, leapt out of moving train while being extradited to Yuma Prison. His escaped was short-lived, however. James was re-captured in Texas and successfully ended up in Yuma. If Van Heflin had been there to make sure Smith made it to Yuma the first time, none of it would have happened.

My research on this told me everything but how the train was stopped. In Hot Bath an’ a Stiff Drink, the Reno is stopped by a wagon piled high with large crates parked on the tracks. That seems a more likely scenario than riding along side on horseback and jumping onto the train. Maybe the bandits had someone on the train when it left the station. Maybe he was dressed like a girl to not arise suspicion. Maybe I ought to write movie scripts.

Since the iron horse’s invention, folks have been robbing it, and it is one of the most recognizable of Old West scenarios. Train holdups continue to enter into the plots of Hollywood westerns.  They add a level of thrill that a bank robbery can’t. I imagine it was that way for the bad guys, too. Nothing like stopping a 200-ton moving vehicle, and making it submit!

Buckey O’Neill and The posse that ran down the Canyon Diablo train robbers.

When one thinks of frontier justice, hanged or shot come to mind. Sometimes, it was both.

In 1877, the area around the Little Colorado river was cursed with an outlaw gang run by William Snyder, alias Bill Caveness. It appears that this gang was stealing horses, raiding ranches, and creating general disarray from Yavapai County up to southern Colorado. They headquartered in Springerville, much to the dismay of the local populace. At one point a band of citizens went to the Camp Apache military post and requested guns and ammunition to defend themselves from Caveness’ gang. They were denied, and not long after Bill’s gang killed a couple of locals. This act got the attention of Governor, who decided to do something about it.

In November of that year, a Deputy U.S. Marshal named Corydon E. Cooley and a swarm of soldiers captured Bill and an accomplice named E. M. Overstreet and threw them in jail to await trial.

It would appear that the good citizens were angrier than they let on. Shortly after Cooley and his military escort left, a mob took Caveness and Overstreet out of jail and down to Becker Lake where they were hanged, or shot. Judging from how angry locals were, it may have even been both. Tough place, Springerville.

In December the people publicly thanked Cooley and his colleagues “for the gentlemanly, careful and impartial manner in which they conducted their investigations and established peace in the eastern portion of Yavapai County.” In other words, thanks for sweeping up the trash, but we got it from here.

Remember that back in those days, lawmen were not in abundance. It took incidents like this to spur action in the legislature and get folks the law they required.

Corydon E. Cooley went on to become Apache County’s Supervisor. With a name straight out of Dr. Seuss, it’s no wonder he rose to power. Springerville went on to excel in the cattle and sheep industry, and had no further trouble with outlaw gangs. I guess the word got out to leave the citizens there alone!

Many local events in our great state require a modicum of security. You see some men or women in white shirts and hats wearing badges and keeping folks in line. These fine people are Arizona Rangers, an organization that has been around since the territorial era.

At the turn of the last century, Arizona was still rough and wild. Bands of outlaws, rustlers, and other despicable rapscallions plagued pioneers trying to make a go of it.  Local lawdogs were stretched thin and couldn’t be everywhere at once. In 1901, the legislature started a company of men and christened them the Arizona Rangers. Yeah, it was named after the highly successful Texas Rangers. One constituent wanted to name them “The Elite Force of Rascal Slayers”, but it never even went up for a vote. Yep, I’m pullin’ your tail again.

They came from every walk of life. Ranchers, farmers, former military, and business owners joined up to discourage criminal gangs from resting their haunches in our territory. They were given the latest weaponry and top-notch training.

In 1901, the rangers were tasked with taking down the Smith Gang, a group of nefarious cattle rustlers who tormented the White Mountains’ ranchers. The ranger company caught up with them at their camp on the Black River and a lengthy shootout occurred. Although two rangers lost their lives, the Smith Gang, wounded and exhausted, left Arizona and never came back.

One of the most famous Rangers was Jeff Kidder, who was tasked with ridding the border of gunrunners. His captain, Thomas Rynning, described him as one of the quickest men with a gun he’d ever seen. In his years of service, he thwarted many outlaws and confiscated a bevy of weapons and ammunition. Bad guys realized after meeting up with him that he wasn’t a kidder after all. While on a mission in Naco in 1908, he was mortally wounded, and killed two of his attackers before succumbing to his wounds. Later, one of his devoted coworkers went into Mexico and cleaned up what was left of that gunrunning gang. Another interesting Arizona Ranger story can be found here: tucsoncitizen.com/revisiting-arizonas-old-west/2012/08/30/durable-douglas-and-resistant-rangers/

Although they were disbanded in 1909, the Arizona Rangers had resurgence later in the century.  Today they serve as a volunteer organization that supports law enforcement. An auxiliary police force, if you will. Shake their hands when you see them at events. Appreciate the men and women who wear that badge, and the history they represent. You may even catch one of them whistling Marty Robbins’ song Big Iron.

Arizona Rangers takin’ a break.

If any of you have ventured up to Apache Junction, you may have passed Goldfield Ghost Town. It’s not a ghost town in the traditional sense; that would leave us to believe there are no inhabitants and that it is in serious decay.  I can assure you Goldfield is in good condition and open to the public.

Located between the Superstition Mountains and Goldfield Mountains, the settlement of Goldfield was once a boomtown. It was founded in 1892 to service the miners who were pulling high grade gold out of the mountains. At one point there were over 1500 people living in Goldfield. There was a post office, bank, saloons, and even a brewery. Sadly, five years later the vein of gold played out and the inhabitants vamoosed. Goldfield sat vacant for many years. There was even resurgence in finding gold during the 1920′s, but the town still didn’t last.

In the 1960’s Robert Schoose bought the land and rebuilt Goldfiled to it’s current status. Although the buildings are mostly reproductions and not exactly at the original townsite, it gives the public a first hand look at mining towns of the Old West. Along with all the touristy shops, one can find a museum containing a plethora of frontier-era artifacts. The last thing on the tour is a dress coat reported to have belonged to Doc Holliday. The Bordello tour is also an interesting one. I guess there’s no need to elaborate what went on there.

Goldfield  was built on a rocky and unlevel terrain. So, walking across the street you may be going uphill or downhill, and if you’re not careful you’ll bump into a boulder or a covert ore cart (Okay…voice of authority, here. I bumped into an ore cart). One of the attractions is the Mystery Shack, built with strange levels in mind. Pictures won’t hang straight and water emerges where there are no pipes. If you are a bit compulsive about straight pictures, like I am, this place will drive you right over to the saloon.

What Old West town would be compete without a gunfight group? Well, the Goldfield Gunfighters grace the streets frequently for some fun shootouts. In between shows you can hop aboard the Superstition Narrow Gauge Railroad or tour the mine. Plenty to keep the family interested, and fill the old noggin with a bowl full of history.

Goldfield Ghost Town is open daily from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. In March, they host a chili cook off, which I am told shouldn’t be missed by bowl o’ red connoisseurs.

Goldfield Mercantile