Showing posts with label Sam Bass. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sam Bass. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Trailing Cattle - A Short History Part 8

The year 1876 was a pivotal one for the country and Texas trailers. In 1876, Custer came to his end on the Little Big Horn, Alexander Graham Bell introduced the telephone, barbed wire was beginning to gain notice and trailers were pushing more and more cattle into the expanding West. Both San Antonio and Fort Worth saw their fortunes increase as Cow Towns. In San Antonio, the city council outlawed loose cattle from the streets in 1876 although hogs were still free to roam. Fort Worth had plenty of saloons, dance establishments, sporting women, and mercantile supplies. But a new trail was being marked to the west of Fort Worth that caused the town alarm. The new trail, through Fort Griffin, (On the Brazos River west of present day Graham, and northeast of Albany - below the fort was a town called the Flats. The Flats soon became known as the wildest town in Texas.) From Fort Griffin the trail led to the Red River where the cattle crossed at Doan's Crossing and then on to Dodge City, Kansas. Coupled with the Kansas legislature's new cattle quarantine area that now included Wichita, Dodge City seemed posed to emerge as a major cattle shipping point for the Santa Fe RR. Richard King, of King Ranch fame, was credited with trailing 30,000 cattle in 12 different herds north in 1876. King's herds were sold in Kansas and Nebraska.

Kansans never held much regard for Texas trailers and events in the latter part of 1876 only seemed to justify their feelings. In September, outside of Big Springs, Nebraska, six men from cowboy outfits robbed the Union Pacific. The haul? $60,000 in gold and a few hundred in cash. The bandits included Sam Bass. It seems the cowboys, after getting paid for pushing Longhorns up the trail, had drifted north to Deadwood, (Black Hills) where they promptly lost all of their cattle money. And robbery must have seemed as the only viable means for Sam and the bunch to gain their proceeds back. Over at the Flats below Fort Griffin, a lawman, John Larn, was also making quite a name for himself. Larn, who operated as sheriff for Shackleford County moonlighted as a cattle thief. Watt Matthews, Larn's nephew, said of the man: "He was a charmer with many atrributes of a gentleman, but he was also an outlaw, cow thief, and a killer." Larn is said to be responsible for the killing of 12 men by age 30. Larn's running mate in the county was John Selman. (Selman is the man who later killed John Wesley Hardin in El Paso.) Bass met his end in Round Rock, Texas in 1878. He was shot by Richard Ware of the Texas Rangers. John Larn's demise also occurred in 1878. Larn was shot in his jail cell by vigilantes.

Most trailers rode a Spanish cow pony, which was a descendant of the horses brought over by the Spaniards, and the short distance running horse that was developed in colonial America. From Malcom MacKay's Cow Range and Hunting Trail: "Of the many cow ponies that we rode, a few seemed to have had real personalitites, and their traits have stayed in my memory. They were Captain, Baldy, Crockett, Coyote, Prince, Fox, Ginger, Texas, and Five Dollars. ...Fox was a heavy-boned, thickset sorrel and his name suited him well, for he was sure foxy. One morning I put a new saddle on him that had attached to it a beautiful pair of white Angora saddle pockets. Fox did not seem to notice the new rig until I got up on the flat behind our barn and hit into alope, then the Angora flaps began to flap. Fox took one look, and lost his head, and started, high, wide and handsome, straight for a cut bank, twenty feet down to creek bottom. I stuck him for three or four jumps, and then I saw he really was going over the bank, and I would sure be killed if I went along, so I threw my left leg over his head and tried to land on my feet, but didn't quite get the right slant to it, and lit on my right hip, which laid me up about ten days. Fox went on over, turned a somersault or two, and lit in the creek with a grunt..." In MacKay's writing, I love the description, high, wide and handsome. The phrase is original Americana and is best defined as: a person feeling carefree and acting on top of the world. The first printed reference appears in The Bucks County Gazette, Bristol, Pennsylvania, November 1881.



Margaret Heffernan Borland is thought by many historians to be the only woman to have led a cattle drive. Margaret was born in Ireland in 1824 and with her parents, John and Julia Heffernan, arrived in Texas in 1829. The Heffernans settled in Coastal Bend area of Texas - where the Texas Ranching Industry had its roots. Margaret was married three times. Her first husband was killed after an argument. The second husband, Milton Hardy, died of cholera. She then married Alexander Borland, who was considered the wealthiest rancher of the area. Borland died of yellow fever in 1867. After his death, Margaret assumed control of the cattle operation and took on the role of selling and purchasing cattle. By 1873, she had amassed a herd of 10,000 head. In the spring of 1873, she took on the task of driving 2500 Longhorn to Wichita, Kansas. Accompanying her on the drive were her remaining 3 children, her granddaughter, and a few trailers. She reached Wichita with the herd, but succumbed to illness on July before seeing the cattle sold. Her illness was described as "trail fever" by some and "congestation of the brain" by others. (Edgar Allen Poe's fatal illness was also described as "congestation of the brain." The term seems to have covered everything from rabies to malaria. Photo- Margaret Heffernan Borland

Mike Kearby's Texas Copyright 2011

Monday, May 30, 2011

Trailing Cattle - A Short History Part 7

The first town marshall in Abilene was Thomas James Smith. Smith proved his grit early on the job by disarming two bold cowboy / outlaws with his bare fists, first, a ruffian known as Big Hank, and a day later, Wyoming Frank. However, 5 months into the job Smith was killed by a local farmer Andrew McConnell and a neighbor, Moses Miles. After Smith was buried, now town mayor, Joseph McCoy determined that Abilene needed a "name" lawman to keep the peace in the cow town. In April of 1871, the town council hired James B. (Wild Bill) Hickok. Hickok a pistoleer of some renown, was hired at $150.00 a month plus 1/4 of any fines collected. Almost immediately, Hickok made enemies in part to his exerted control around town and partly due to his charm with the ladies. One such desperado was John Wesley Hardin. Two others were Ben Thompson and Phil Coe. The latter tried to push Hardin into a fight with Wild Bill. Hardin ignored the plodding and instead told Coe, "If Wild Bill needs killing, why don't you do it yourself?" Some historians believe that the Hickok, Coe dust-up was the result of competition over a woman. Others relate that the matter was due to the fact that Coe was mouthy drunk. Regardless, the trouble between the two inevitably came to a head on October 5, 1871. Before returning to Texas at season's end, Coe and several of his group decided to have "a little" fun before their departure. The group moved up and down the Abilene thoroughfare, forcing "victims" into the Alamo to buy drinks. Near dark, a shot was discharged in the street. Hickok, who spent a good deal of his time in the Alamo, rushed outside and demanded to know who had fired a weapon. Coe obliged that it was him. Standing within 10 feet of one another, both men suddenly fired. Coe's shots missed their mark, whereas Hickok's struck Coe in the stomach. In the fading light, another man rushed to the scene, flashing a pistol. Hickok didn't hesitate and shot the man dead. Later, he discovered that the dead man was his friend, Mike Williams. Coe died 3 days later, and in December Hickok was dismissed from his job.

In February 1872, Abilene Mayor, Theodore Henry circulated a notice in Abilene and Texas that read: "We, the undersigned members of Dickinson County, Kansas, most respectfully request all who have contemplated driving Texas cattle to Abilene the coming season to seek some other point for shipment, as the inhabitants of Dickinson County will no longer submit to the evils of the trade." And Texans being who they are, responded by trailing their cattle to Wichita and Ellsworth. Less than 3 months later, Abilene, after enjoying cattle money for 4 1/2 years suddenly took on the look of a ghost town. Wichita enjoyed the enviable position of being the first market Texas drovers reached upon entering Kansas. Joseph McCoy left Abilene in the spring and visited Wichita where he observed the building of a spur line of the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe RR. McCoy, ever the astute businessman, realized that with a shipping yard, Wichita would soon compete with any Kansas cow town. By April, Wichita employed McCoy to travel north and persuade cattle buyers to come to Wichita. By June, with the spur line completed, 18 carloads of Longhorns left Wichita for Chicago and by early fall, over 20 herds grazed within shouting distance of town.

E.C. Abbott - Abbott, better known as Teddy Blue, recalled his trailing experiences to Helena Huntington Smith in 1938. At the time Abbott was 78 years in age. His book - We Pointed Them North is filled with many colorful insights to the trailing business. One of his recollections was that Sam Bass worked as his father's wagon boss be...fore he came an outlaw. Another recounted how the "poorest" hands were relegated to riding drag on a herd. Abbott wrote of those cowboys: "They would go to the water barrel at the end of the day and rinse their mouths and cough and spit and bring up that black stuff out of their throats. But you couldn't get it up out of your lungs." On watering a herd, Abbott said, "You bring them up and spread them out along the bank, with the lead cattle headed downstream. The leads get there first, and of course they drink clear water, and as the drags keep coming they get clear water, too, because they are upstream." Another interesting recollection of Abbott's involved borrowing .50 from Calamity Jane at the Belly-Ups train station on the Miles-Deadwood stage line. (It was named Belly-Ups to honor all the buffalo hunters who went belly-up in the winter of 1883.) Abbott was broke and borrowed the money to buy a meal. He promised to pay her back one day whereas Jane replied, "I don't give a damn if you ever pay me." Abbott relates that he saw her again in 1907 standing on a street corner. Abbott approached and asked, "Don't you know me?" and promptly repaid the .50. He recalls that Jane replied, "I told you, Blue that I don't give a damn if you never paid me." "And," Abbott remembers, "after that we both went into a local saloon and drank it up.

In May of 1872, Ellsworth, Kansas was determined to become the "new" Abilene for Texas trailers. William Cox, liverstock agent for the Kansas Pacific RR, had cut out a new trail which shortened the trailer's drive by about 20 miles. The new trail, although still considered to be a part of the Chisholm Trail, was known by most as the Cox Trail. Ellsworth boasted of a bank for merchants and stock dealers, 3 hotels, and 13  saloons, and of course there were many "Prairie Nymphs" or what many called "Ladies of easy virtue." That summer, the Topeka Newspaper wrote of Ellsworth - "The authorities consider that as long as mankind is depraved and Texas cattle herders exist, there will be a demand and necessity for prostitutes." By August, Ellsworth, known as "the wickedest city in Kansas, accomplished its goal of replacing Abilene as the cattle capital. It was estimated that Ellsworth held a 177,000 head of Longhorns compared to 56,000 for Wichita. Wayne Gard writes in the Chisholm Trail that the biggest sale that year went to L.B. Harris of San Antonio, who was paid $210,000. for 7,000 steers. Even though fewer cattle were trailed to Kansas in 1872, the prices were higher, and Texas drovers were excited about 1873's prospects. Little could they know that world economic events would unravel in such an extreme fashion that 1873 was going to be anything but a prosperous year for Texas cattle drivers.

 From the end of the Civil War until 1873, the railroad industry was the second largest employer in the United States. The industry enjoyed infusions of cash from speculators who soon realized that investments were putting too much money into projects that showed little return. (Think dot.com bust) In addition, in 1871, the German government had decided to cease minting silver thaler coins. The effect was felt in the U.S. where much of the world's silver was then mined. As a result of Germany's decision, the U.S. passed the Coinage Act of 1873. The act made Gold the standard currency in the country. The new law immediately reduced the U.S. money supply, which caused an increase in interest rates, which hurt anyone carrying large loans. (Farmers, Ranchers, and Industry) By September of 1873, the U.S. economy hit the "wall." The result was due to several years of economic misfortune, the Panic of 1869, the Chicago Fire (1871), equine influenza (1872) and finally the U.S. decision to no longer convert silver into coins. The first domino to fall was Jay Cooke & Co., a bank heavily invested in the RR's, was unable to market two million dollars in RR bonds. President Grant's response was to contract the money supply. And once again interest rates soared. The Jay Cooke failure was followed by a chain reaction of bank closures, factory lay-offs, closing of the Stock Exchange for 10 days, and 89 RR's going bankrupt. To Texas drovers, the effect was chilling. Thousands of cattle were killed just for hide and tallow, and many trailers who arrived in Kansas in the fall were lucky to break even. 

Mike Kearby's Texas Copyright 2011