Fakes

Any fan of the frontier, any browser of this blog, is fully aware by now of history's impostors. I speak of those pathetic wanna-bes who accomplished virtually nothing in their overly-long lives and who seemingly awoke one morning and decided that they would exit the earthly stage with some noise. These folks lacked the bravery, daring, ambition, and intelligence to do anything remarkable with their own lives. And so, since they had made no history themselves, they stole it from those who had. Billy the Kid, Jesse James, John Wesley Hardin, and others I could mention, all had their names, their deeds, even their deaths, stolen by these impostors. Telling tall tales, striking bold poses for the cameras, each fraud went to his long home with a lie on his lips. Worse, with their deaths each crazed old faker seems to have sown, like dragon's teeth, a legion of "slightly-to-seriously-touched" followers who, to this very day, back the shams with persistant fanaticism. Naming names only gives the fakers and their followers the fame they crave and I will mention none here.

These identity thieves were not the only history hackers out there. After Lincoln's assassination in April, 1865, a $100,000 reward was offered for the capture of those involved in his murder. Although only sixty or so men had a direct hand in running down John Wilkes Booth and the other eight conspirators, when time came to divvy up the reward loot, over 5,000 people staked their claims and joined the Washington gold rush.

I am a member of the Little Bighorn Association. I read an interesting article earlier this week (right) in the group's beautiful magazine. The piece was about those who, decades after the fact, actually claimed that they had survived Custer's Last Stand! And we are not talking about just a handful of cranks here--we are talking about some two to three hundred persons who, from motives of greed and/or glory, insisted that they had somehow managed to escape that ridge of slaughter on June 25, 1876, when everyone else had not.

The lengths to which some are willing to go, either through greed, or simply to grab a little gusto, are truly amazing.


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Heedless of the hysterical screams and sobs of his passengers, Casey was in the habit of shutting down "Old 96" at the least sign of rain in hopes of catching a glimpse of that awesome power of nature for which "Flash Flood Canyon" had become famous.

Monster News From the Little Bighorn!

Headlines We'd Like to See....

Startling Discovery!

Unbelievable Find!!
The Riddle Solved!!!

Hardin, Montana, March 8 (AP). Archaeologists working at the Little Bighorn National Battlefield announced here today that they have made an incredible find. Digging with painstaking care in the area known as Medicine Tail Coulee (above), a team from the Montana State Historical Society have unearthed what they believe are the multiple barrels of a Model 1870's Gatling Gun. The weapon is considered to be the prototype of the modern machine gun. The badly rusted barrels of the gun were unearthed three feet below the sandy surface of the ravine.

Although it is known that Gen. George Custer, whose command was wiped out here in June, 1876, by Sioux and Cheyenne Indians, had a battery of Gatling Guns at his disposal, it was thought by most that the weapons had been left behind at the Yellowstone River when the campaign began. The reasons given were that the guns were considered slow to move and difficult to operate in broken country such as that found along the Little Bighorn.

The startling discovery has caused ballistic experts here to reexamine bullets found over the years on the battlefield. Indeed, it is now recognized that most of the lead bullets unearthed on Last Stand Ridge, where the final and most dramatic moments of the fight occurred, were not from single-shot rifles and pistols, as earlier thought, but from a machine gun, similar to the Gatling (left).

Even more shocking, all evidence seems to indicate that the weapon was not used by U.S. troops during the battle, but by the Indians.

"The evidence seems indisputable that the gun was in the hands of the Indians," said Dr. Warren O'Malley, head of the dig. "The location of the shell casings, the position of the gun carriage, the discovery of these fired bullets on Last Stand Hill....All this leaves us with only one conclusion: The Indians somehow gained control of the weapon and turned it upon the soldiers."

Did the Indians have the knowledge to fire it?

"Yes," says Dr. O'Malley. "The weapon was very simple to operate. You wouldn't need a degree in rocket science to fire it."

Further work is underway, but if the growing body of evidence stands, it might explain how a cohesive, disciplined unit like the 7th Cavalry, led by one of the most experienced Indian-fighters at the time, could be wiped out so utterly, so quickly.

"I always sorta had my suspicions about this whole thing," said Ernie "Wild Man" Stodemeyer (right), who, for the past thirty years has lived by himself in an abandoned car in a remote area adjacent to the park's boundary. "I thought something was fishy about this whole story. I hope some of these old boys can figure it out now."

"My personal theory," added Dr. O'Malley, "is that after the aborted attempt by Custer to cross the river down by the village, the Gatling Gun--carriage, horses and all--was either abandoned by Custer or captured by the Indians. From then on it would have been a simple matter to move the gun up the hill, position it, then start cranking away. On that bare ridge, silhouetted against the sky, Custer's men didn't stand a chance. This all makes sense now. This is literally the smoking gun we've been looking for all these years."

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An Interview With Chuck Rabas

Chuck Rabas (right) of Kansas City, Missouri, is one of the foremost experts on outlaw history in America. For years he has researched and written on the Wild West. Johnny Ringo is a subject he knows well.

Tom Goodrich: Ringo? That's an unusual name. Any idea on his ethnic background?

Chuck: The Ringo name can be traced to the area around Ghent, Belgium, in the tenth century. John Peters Ringo's ancestors on the Ringo side came here by way of Holland. Many have claimed his name was Ringold, but a wealth of readily accessible records prove it was Ringo.

TG: I once ran into an advertisement in a Missouri newspaper, either Liberty or Independence. The ad was offering the services of one John Ringo. Same?

Chuck: Johnny's father, Martin Ringo, had a number of relatives in Liberty, where the Ringo family was very influential. The John Ringo you refer to would have been an uncle or cousin. Johnny never lived in Liberty, although he surely visited there as a boy -- his immediate family left Missouri for California when he was 13. Johnny's mother's family was one of the most respected in Liberty. Mary Ringo's father, John Peters, served on the first Board of Trustees. He also served for a time as sheriff of Clay County and justice of the peace. Her mother, Francis Simms Peters, was the first female teacher in Clay County.

TG: "Oh, look darlin'...it's Johnny Ringo, the deadliest pistoleer since Wild Bill." Those famous lines in the movie, Tombstone, would suggest that Ringo was one of the best. Thought?

Chuck: John Ringo (left) is a name that evokes visions of gunsmoke and bodies lying in a dusty street, but such was far from the case. His actual tally belies his reputation. He was charged (under the name of Ringold) with the murder of a man during a Texas range war known as the Hoo Doo War, but was never brought to trial. He is known to have shot one man in Arizona, but not fatally. Josie Earp observed that Johnny was a perfect gentleman when sober, but did a complete turnabout when drunk, which was frequently.

TG: What did Ringo do for a living? (that may be a lame question, but I don't know)

Chuck: Not a lame question at all. Unfortunately, I don't have an answer! I don't recall ever seeing that he had any employment other than as a soldier in the Hoo Doo War.

TG: We all have our opinions on Ringo's demise. Given what you know about the Arizona troubles, how do you think he died?

Chuck: The official verdict was suicide, but the evidence leaves considerable room for doubt. Wyatt Earp reportedly claimed to have killed him, but most historians discount that. My personal belief is that he was murdered, but it is impossible to make more than the wildest guess as to who killed him.

TG: If you met Ringo today, what would you ask him?

Chuck: I would ask him, "Were you influenced by the reputations of all the famous outlaws you had family ties to?"

(Chuck's recommended Ringo reading list: John Ringo; the Gunfighter Who Never Was by Jack Burrows; John Ringo by Steve Gatto; John Ringo: The Reputation of a Deadly Gunman by Steve Gatto)

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"He's either our dumbest president or our smartest monkey!"
--------overheard in church

Prairie Dogs & Space Snakes

The white man slows his horse and nervously enters the village. All is deathly still. Suspense fills the air. Indians emerge from their teepees and stand silently. They wonder who this stranger is. They marvel at his manly bravery. Quietly they watch as he passes. All is silence. Finally, the white stranger reaches the chief's tent. Dismounting, the rider is greeted by the chief who stands patiently waiting. The men look into each other's eyes. After a few calm words, the two quietly enter the teepee for a pow wow.

That's generally the standard version in every movie I have ever seen. Looks good. Very dramatic. Very romantic. Unfortunately, it's bosh.

How did it really unroll? Here's what a reporter for the New York Herald encountered when he and a friend entered a Comanche camp one day:

Our advent was duly announced by a drove of snarling, snapping curs, of all sizes, colors and conditions. Two great clubs with which we had provided ourselves beforehand alone prevented a complete rout....Our movements, however, were most cautiously performed by backing in the direction we wished to proceed and thus preventing a dash on our heels. The noise of our approach as developed by the dogs, started a few old squaws who came out of their lodges, and by giving vent to a few gutturals completely silenced the growling storm....

This is how another white man described his entry into another Indian camp:

After making our way through the midst of hundreds of dogs, everyone of which appeared to exert his vocal and explosive powers to the utmost, filling the air with...the most horrid din of snaps, snarls, yelps, growls, and howls...we found a convenient place for lariating our ponies and mule....We then proceeded to the lodge of...the head chief...being escorted by most if not all the dogs in the community, still continuing their deafening clamor, and crowding upon us to the degree that we had to keep them off with clubs....

Man! I mean like it's bad enough facing hundreds of Indians who might pump you full of arrows with just one wrong move. But first you have to fight your way with a club through packs of "snarling, snapping curs." All this is way more than enough for me to ask myself: "Is this trip really necessary?"

The next Cowboy & Indian movie you watch, look for the dogs and clubs. Bet you don't see them, but if you do let me know.

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Debbie Daily

Texas--Ah, spring is in the air! Soon, the bluebonnets will be springing up across the rolling hills and the rattlesnakes will come forth from hibernation.... Yes, some folks actually look forward to that! Bring in the longest or heaviest snake and win a prize at the 49th annual "Rattlesnake Round-Up" in Sweetwater. Daily guided hunts begin Thursday and continue through Saturday. But if actually hunting creepy creatures isn't your cup of tea, you can still sample deep-fried western diamondback meat at the Rattlesnake Cook-off. (Texas is still the South, remember, as well as the West. Everything is deep-fried.) Visit rattlesnakeroundup.net for details, but I warn you: Set your coffee cup down before you click on this site! Oklahoma--Don't worry. If you're all stressed because you can't make the rattlesnake hunt in Texas, Waurika's annual "Fang-tastic Rattlesnake Hunt" comes up April 13-15. Tom, the man who is the poster-boy for Ophidiophobics Anonymous, went rattlesnake hunting once (see blog 12.25.06, "Huntin' Rattlers"). Kansas--Don't worry some more. If you can't make the rattlesnake hunts in either Texas or Oklahoma, there is always Sharon Springs, May 13-14. They even have a "petting zoo!" High Plains--And, if you can't make any of the above, I suppose there are similar reptile roundups in Nebraska, the Dakotas, and Saskatchewan, but you'll have to run them down yourself.

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Remember the Alamo!

Today marks the 171st anniversary of the fall of the Alamo. After 13 days of siege, the grand culmination came when the Mexicans rushed the Texians at dawn. To commemorate the final moments of the fight, Historynet.com offers a beautifully detailed "snapshot in time" for your desk or book shelf. Check out Historynetshop.com and click on "Gift Ideas."

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Email

Tom--I enjoyed the Jesse James post ( "Дессый Уъудсон Джемс," 3.5.07). As a very amateur scholar of the Wild West, I've never had the opportunity to correct you on anything historical, so I can't pass up the chance to do so linguistically! The Russian spelling of Jesse that you posted is off--at least on the first name. The way you have it reads "Desse Woodson James." The correct Russian spelling would be "äÖÅÓÓÙÊ." You need that asterisk-looking character after the weird Space Invaders alien character. Let me also take this opportunity to tell you that I love both blogs and I enjoy them every day. I wrote Deb and told her this last week. It's one thing to read great writing. It's another to read great writing on such an awesome subject! Keep it up!

Clint of Utah

TG: Thanks for the heads up, Clint. Actually, I deliberately misspelled "Jesse" just to see how many Russian linguists out there in Blog Land would catch the error. You were the first. Just kidding. Obviously, I don't speak or write Russian (or any of the other languages that lisp out "Desse Dames" in the blog sidebar). And by the way, and for the record: Any historical errors you do discover, please do correct me. I'm not offended in the least. Just love to be corrected. Just kidding. Within a week of your calling me out, Clint, a gang of tough historians will pay you a visit. We hairy-chested, he-men historians know how to deal with know-it-all trouble-makers like you!

Дессый Уъудсон Джемс

Surfing the other night, happened upon a familiar face and voice on the "History Channel." The film was on Jesse James (boyhood home, above). The face and voice were mine. Watched most of it. Don't know why. Still a bad, bad, bad product. The title is "Jesse James--Something--Something--Terrorist." Don't remember the "somethings"; don't need to; only the last word was operative. The subjective spin of the film was clumsy and heavy handed. For two hours, at least, the History Channel was to history what the National Enquirer is to news. Throughout, Jesse is portrayed as a grinning psychopath; a thrill killer; an Old West Osama. Producers of the film, and various others of the left-leaning, mothball Marxist persuasion, have their obvious agendas and nothing this side of judgment day will reform them. Others, however--well-meaning truth-seekers, nut-case iconoclasts, penis-envying non-entities--are genuine in their beliefs. Obviously, quite a few from both categories just don't get it.

Jesse James, Jesse James, he robbed banks, he robbed trains.
And the Pinkerton men tried to run him down,
followed him around from town to town,
but they never laid a hand on Jesse James.

So rolls the refrain from a ballad of Jesse James. The words, in part, explain why Jesse James (left) is so fascinating--he was good, very good, at what he did. But, of course, there is more to the story than that. John Dillinger was also very good at what he did and he is certainly not revered as is Jesse James.

Jesse James belongs to the world. The British have Robin Hood, the Swiss have William Tell, the Australians have Ned Kelly, and we Americans have Jesse James. Indeed, of the four, ours may be most well known. If movies are any indication, Jesse wins hands down for there are far more films devoted to his short life than the others combined. An British friend of mine, a publisher who lived in Japan and speaks the language fluently, once told me, “It’s hard to find a school kid in Japan who knows the name of the current Japanese prime minister, but ask any child who Jesse James is and they not only know but can tell you his middle name.” Now, this may be an exaggeration, but the message is clear: Jesse James is the property of the world.

While Americans may argue fine points on whether he was a Robin Hood or a robbing hood, and while hateful acid pretending to be historical films try to dissolve his bones in their grave, the world wisely sees Jesse James in more fundamental terms: He was young, he was wronged, he fought, he lost, he tried to surrender, he couldn’t, he continued to fight after everyone else had given up, he was betrayed, he was killed. That is why “Jesse James” rolls off the tongue so easily.

And yet, this baby-faced boy began the Civil War by riding with one of the most brutal and blood-thirsty men in American history, Bill Anderson (see past blogs). Even this fact seems to work to the Missourian’s advantage, however, for although young Jesse learned “the trade” under Anderson, he never stooped to the excesses of his former mentor. By all accounts Jesse was kind, civil, courteous, and, in a region known for its earthy habits, many accounts state that the outlaw didn’t even drink or cuss. Much is made--in films such as the above--of the few who died by Jesse's hand. What is not mentioned is that as a bank and train robber, hundreds of people were at the young bandit's mercy. Had he so desired, he could have killed them all. He did not. Maybe this last explanation more than any is what endears Jesse James to countless millions and makes him a subject of eternal fascination.

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Debbie Daily

Nebraska--You will not want to miss the 2007 Fort Robinson History Conference during the last weekend of April. Located near Crawford, Nebraska, Fort Robinson was a significant post during the Indian Wars and is now a state park. If you just show up for the scenery it's worth the drive, but with great history thrown in, I can't imagine a better place to be. Robert Utley will be the banquet speaker with several other distinguished historians making presentations throughout the weekend. Accommodations are wonderful as Tom and I can attest. We've stayed in the Lodge, which was the Enlisted Men's Barracks, as well as the campground. Space is limited though, so get your registration in early. For more information, call 402-471-3272. TVLAND--Watching "Breakfast with the Arts" over the weekend, I caught their interview with Clint Black and saw him perform a couple of songs from his new album, "Drinkin' Songs and Other Logic." I enjoy hearing creative people of all genres talk about the process and Clint's comments were relevant to our Western fans. To prepare himself to write these songs, he immersed himself for three months in the music he listened to before 1988 or 89, when he first began to write. So many of his influences were cowboy and early country/western music, as well as the old black and white TV westerns that unite us all. He soaked in the flavor and wrote simple songs with simple music. You're going to love "Code of the West." Perhaps somewhat of a mixed message, but it's just a great song, and one we can sure relate to: The code of the west was black and white. The good guys and the bad. You would always know who's wrong or right by the color of their hat. Now there aren't so many happy trails. I've ridden some you wouldn't wanna see. You don't go off into the sunset. And they don't run from sea to shinin' sea.

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After that last-second reprieve from the hangman's rope, those who knew him best could sense that there was "just something different" about old Seth.