USA > Kansas > Ford County > Dodge City > Dodge City, the cowboy capital, and the great Southwest in the days of the wild Indian, the buffalo, the cowboy, dance halls, gambling halls and bad men > Part 17
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Finally he raised to his feet and acknowledged he had been hard hit and the bullet had struck a vital spot, and at last religion had been poured into him; that he felt it tingling from his toes through his whole body, even to his finger tips, and he knew he had religion now, sure, and if he died now would surely go to heaven, and pulling both of his six shooters in front of him, he said further, for fear that some of the brothers here tonight might backslide and thereby lose their chance of heaven he thought they had better all die tonight together as they had so expressed themselves, and the best plan he said would be for him to kill them all, and then kill himself. Suddenly jerking out a pistol in each hand, he said to the preacher, "I will send you first," firing over the preacher's head. Wheeling quickly he fired several shots into the air, in the direction of the faithful ones.
The much-frightened preacher fell flat behind the dry-goods box, as also did the faithful ones who ducked down as low as they could. Then Dave proceeded to shoot out the lights, remarking as he walked towards the door, "You are all a set of liars and frauds, you don't want to go to heaven with me at all." This broke up the meeting, and destroyed the usefulness of that preacher in this vicinity. His power was gone, and he departed for new fields, and I am sorry to relate, the people went back to their backsliding and wickedness.
Notwithstanding the general tone of these stories, all the joking of early days did not revolve around the six
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shooter and cartridge belt. Sometimes a widely differ- ent instrument of administration was choosen, though the methods of administrating never varied; it was ever di- rect, vigorous, and practically merciless.
In the first years of Dodge City a merchant in the town had a government hay contract. He was also sutler at the fort. There was also a saloon keeper who kept the best billiard hall in the town, an Irishman, and a clever fellow, whom the officers preferred to patronize, by the name of Moses Waters. Now, this Waters was full of jokes, and a fighter from away back. The officers made his saloon their headquarters when they came to Dodge, but, as a general thing, upon their arrival, they sent for the sutler and had him go the rounds with them-a chaperon they deemed essential, lest they might get into difficulties, and the sutler was as eager to have their company as they were to have him along. One evening about dark the post sutler came into Dodge from his hay camp to purchase a suit of clothes suitable for camp service. Waters, in passing along Front street, saw the sutler trying on the suit, and an idea struck him. He went immediately to his saloon, wrote a note to the sutler, as he had often seen the officers do, presenting his com- pliments, and requesting his presence at once at his saloon. The buildings on Front street were all low, frame shanties with porches. On the corners of the porch roofs were placed barrels of water in case of fire, and the sutler had to pass under these porches to get to Water's saloon. As soon as he was properly rigged out in his new outfit, he hurried to Water's saloon to meet his of- ficer friends, as he supposed, not suspecting any danger, of course. But no sooner had he passed under one of these porches on the corner, than a barrel of water was dashed over him, nearly knocking him down, wetting him to the skin, and nearly drowning him. He knew as soon as he had recovered his breath, and as he heard the parties running over the roof to the rear of the build-
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ing and jumping to the ground, what had happened and what was up.
When he reached Water's saloon there was a crowd, looking as innocent as could be, and saying, "Come in and wet your new clothes," which was a common custom. "Yes," the sutler said, "I will wet them. Barkeep, set up the drinks. It is all right, and I am going to get even." There were, of course, no officers in sight.
Some time previous to this, Waters, who had a lot of horses, and some fine ones by the way, had built him a large barn and painted it blood red. He took great pride in this barn, more on account of its color than anything else. He had cut out in front of each stall a place large enough for a horse to get his head through, to give the horse air and light. Waters had an Englishman, a very fine hostler, to attend his horses. One day, soon after the incident mentioned above, a tall, finely built young Mis- sourian came to the sutler, as was frequently the case, and asked for work. The sutler said, "Yes, I can give you work. Can you white wash?" He said, "I can beat the man who invented whitewashing." The sutler got two old-fashioned cedar buckets, holding about three gallons each, and two whitewashing brushes, a short and a long-handled one. "Now," said the sutler, "I want you to mix these buckets full and thick, and go down to that red stable (showing him the stable), and plaster it thick with whitewash. I painted it red, but everyone seems to dislike the color, and I want it changed. But, say, there is a crazy Irishman, by the name of Waters, who imagines he owns the stable. He may come around and try to give you some trouble. If he does, don't give him any gentle treatment. Use him. as rough as you can. Smash him with your whitewash brush, and if you can put a white- wash bucket over his head and nearly drown him, I will pay you two dollars extra. Try and do this anyway, and I will pay you more for it than for doing the job of whitewashing."
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Soon after the talk, off went the big Missourian with his whitewash buckets and brushes. There was a strong west wind blowing, so he commenced on the east side of the barn. He went at it like he was mauling rails, and was doing a fine job. The Englishman was shut up in- side, giving the horses their morning scrubbing. At last he was attracted by the continual knocking of the brush against the stable. In the meantime quite a crowd had gathered, looking on at the curious spectacle of the big Missourian whitewashing the stable. At last the English- man poked out his head, demanding of the Missourian: "What the bloody 'ell are you doing, anyway?" Down comes the Missourian's brush on the face and head of the Englishman, while at the same time he said that the man who gave him the job told him that an ignorant Irishman would try to stop him. This was too much for the Englishman, who went across the street to Water's room, dripping all over with whitewash.
Waters being a saloonkeeper and compelled to be up late at night, slept late in the morning, and was still in bed. Waters could hardly believe the Englishman's story, that anyone would dare whitewash his beautiful red barn. But he put on his pants, slippers, and hat, and went over to see. Waters was a fighter-in fact, he was something of a prize-fighter, and was a powerful and heavy-set man, and did not think he could be whipped. The reason the Missourian got such an advantage of him, Waters told me afterwards, was because he was trying to get up to him as close as possible so that he could give him a knock-out blow. But the Missourian was too quick for him. Waters approached the Missourian very slowly and deliberately, talking to him all the while in a very mild and persuasive way, but when he was almost within striking distance the Missourian put the bucket of whitewash over his head. It almost strangled Waters, and he had to buck and back and squirm to shake the bucket off. When he did, and had shaken the whitewash out of his eyes, nose, and
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mouth, what a fight began. The young Missourian was a giant, but Waters was more skilled by training. Still they had it, rough and tumble, for a long time, first Waters on top and then the Missourian. Finally, the Missourian found that Waters was getting the best of it, and, with a desperate effort, threw Waters to one side, tore loose, and made for the government reservation, only a few hundred yards distant, followed closely by Waters, amid great cheering by the crowd. It was indeed laughable, the Missourian in the lead, beating the ground with his big feet and long legs, with all the vim and energy he possessed, and as if his life depended on the race (and perhaps it did), followed by the low, squatty figure of Waters in his shirt sleeves and slippers, minus hat and coat with the whitewash dripping from him at every point, and tearing down with equal energy, as if his life, too, depended upon the race. The race of the two men presented a most laughable scene, too ludicrous for anything. They both seemed determined on the issue, but the long legs of the Missourian were evidently too much for Water's short ones, and he finally abandoned the chase.
There is nothing further to the story, except that the sutler had to hide out for a few days, until mutual friends could bring in a white flag and agree upon terms of peace.
I have related enough to show that the spirit of practical joking and raillery was very prevalent in south- western, frontier days. Most of it was good natured and meant to be harmless; but I must confess that there was scarcely anything too sacred to be made the butt of a joke, if the trend of inclination turned that way. Even love, instead of being a serious matter, was often treated as a joke and laughed into materialization or renuncia- tion, as the case might be. The following love letter of
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the times might have been written en route on the Texas drive, or by the camp fire in a buffalo hunter's camp:
"Dearest :-
"My love is stronger than the smell of coffee, patent butter, or the kick of a young cow. Sensations of exquisite joy go through me like chlorite of ant through an army cracker, and caper over my heart like young goats on a stable roof. I feel as if I could lift myself by my boot straps to the height of a church steeple, or like an old stage horse in a green pasture. As the mean purp hankers after sweet milk, so do I hanker after your presence. And as the goslin' swimmeth in the mud puddle, so do I swim in a sea of delightfulness when you are near me. My heart flops up and down like cellar doors in a country town; and if my love is not reciprocated, I will pine away and die like a poisoned bed-bug, and you can come and catch cold on my grave."
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CHAPTER XII.
When Conviviality Was the Fashion and the Rule
T `HOSE were days of hard drinking as well as hard rid- ing and hard fighting. The man who did not drink in some degree, was regarded as something of a freak, and as lacking the social spirit. Stories innumerable, tragic, pathetic, humorous, may be told of Dodge City and her people, showing the place that intoxicants filled in the life of the time and place, and with their plots centering around the glass and the bar of the frontier saloon.
In the early days of Dodge, the town was often visited by a traveling man whom we will call Thomas Smith, who is now a very wealthy Christian gentleman, worth a million, and now making amends for his early debauches by charitable work, teaching poor boys the way they should go. This salesman would always put up at the Dodge House, and when he had finished his rounds among his customers and finished his work, he would proceed to get on his usual drunk. His firm would wire Mr. Cox, proprietor of the hotel, to take care of him until he recovered from his spree and send them his bill. Of course he had hosts of friends, as he was a fine fellow as well as salesman, when sober.
The hotel was built clear through to the other street and, in building back, the floor at the rear was below the surface of the ground, as it was a little up-hill from the front of the house, and this placed the windows of the back part level with the ground. Now, Tom was in one of these rooms with the window level with the ground, and of course the window was exposed. Tom was getting a little over his spree. He had been seeing snakes.
Mr. Kelly had a large black bear, a tremendous fel- low. He had broken his chain in the night, and crawled into Tom's window and gotten under the bed. Tom
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had been given an opiate the night before, and of course he was dead to all noises until the effects of the drug wore off. But about breakfast time, Mr. Bear turned over and groaned. This raised Tom up in the bed and, at the same time, the bear's chain rattled. Tom said to himself, "My God! have I got 'em again?" But Mr. Bear made another move which lifted Tom up again. This was too much. He jumped out of bed, hastily lifted the bed clothes, and there was Mr. Bear, staring him in the face, yawning, and rattling his chain. Tom gave one tremendous scream and rushed for the dining room.
Breakfast was in full blast at the time, the room crowded with guests, and with six girl waitresses. When Tom rushed in in his nightgown, he tripped and fell over one of the girls, with a waiter full of dishes. Of course they both went down together, and of all the screaming and holloing, and rushing out of that dining room, was a caution.
Another time Tom got on one of his sprees at Cald- well, Kansas, another wild and woolly cattle town like Dodge, and the boys hired a trained monkey, from an organ grinder, and put it in his room one morning be- fore day. Tom was convalescing and they thought a big scare would do him good and maybe break him of his sprees. Tom was awakened about breakfast time, with the monkey sitting right over him at the head of his bed, where the boys had placed him, chattering away and cutting up all kinds of monkey tricks. Tom said he was sure he had them again. But recollecting his six-shooter, he went to his suitcase, got it out, and said: "Old fellow, if you ain't a monkey, I am in a bad fix; but if you are a monkey, you sure are in a h-l of a fix." Then he took good aim and fired. Down came Mr. Monkey, and the boys lost a hundred dollars and the joke was on them.
Bobby Gill was one of the most notorious characters and was the best all-around "sure thing" man that ever struck Dodge City. He was up-to-date in all the tricks
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"CHALK" BEESON
of the trade, and was capable of working all the various devices known to the brotherhood, from the opening of a spring match safe to the gold brick proposition. He had the brains to use them all, but whisky was what caused his downfall. He could not keep away from it. At one time, he abstained from drinking for a week. He came across the "dead line," where he had been staying to keep from drinking, and was very "blue", down- hearted, and nervous. When he reached the precincts of the "gang", he was subjected to the ridicule, "kidding", and taunts of the fellows. It was a cold snowy morning, and the river was out of its banks and full of immense cakes of floating ice and a quarter of a mile wide. Bobby said to the "jokesmiths", "Kid as much as you please, but it takes more nerve to stop drinking when in the con- dition in which I have been, than it does to go down to the river now, strip, and swim across to the other bank." I believed him. I can sympathize with such a man be- cause I have been in the same condition myself. He was right and I knew he told the truth.
One of the many times he was before the police court was due to hard luck. He was clear down and out of pocket and friends. One could discover a kindly feeling for him, for, as a general thing, when a man plays in such hard luck, no matter what his antecedents, one can't help pitying him. One's heart goes out to him, and so it was in this case. The sentence was twenty dollars and costs. The marshal said, "Well, so far as I am concerned, I am willing to throw off my costs;" the clerk said, "I will do the same;" and the judge said, "So will I. Mr. Gill, what have you got to say for yourself?" He prompt- ly jumped up and, quick as a flash, and said, "Your Honor, I never was yet out-done in generosity, and I will not be in this case; I will throw off the fine." It is need- less to say that he never paid any fine.
One day Bobby was in the Long Branch saloon sleep-
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ing off a big drunk. There was a ledge of wood all around the room about three and a half feet from the floor. Bobby had his chair tilted back and his head resting on this ledge, with a broad-brimmed Stetson hat half over his face. We put a line of powder along on this ledge, from the door to where Bobby was sleeping (which was quite a distance from the door), and near his head we placed a full quarter pound of the powder, pulled his hat well over his face to thoroughly protect it, and stationed several men in the saloon with six-shooters, and the large tin pan, used for making large quantities of "Tom and Jerry", was so placed that the most noise possible could be made when it was hit with a club by a man. The signal was given and the powder touched off, the six-shooters were fired, and the clubbing of the tin pan began while the bar and tables were hammered with billiard cues. Imagine the noise and confusion.
The smoke from the burned powder was so dense that one could scarcely see. Bobby made a dive for the door and cleared the way before him. There were some men sitting around the big stove; Bobby ran right over them and, when he encountered a chair, he just threw it over his shoulder and continued his flight. He said af- terwards he had been dreaming about fire and, when the racket began, he imagined that he was in a burning build- ing, from which all but himself had escaped, and he could see the burning rafters falling down upon him. He never opened his eyes but once, and never stopped running until he was home, on the other side of the railroad track. This was one good treatment for him and his complaint, and he was not over on the north side again for a month. He was afraid we would kill him and he actually believed so.
Bobby himself was great practical joker. Once he secured a large queensware crate that would just com- fortably fill a wagon box, and standing some four feet high. In this crate, with the assistance of Kinch Riley, he placed Jim Dalton, a notorious booze fiend, who was
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in a helpless state of intoxication. They covered this crate with an ample tarpaulin, entirely concealing the contents from view. Attaching a team of mules to the wagon, they drove up Main Street, stopping in front of each saloon for exhibition purposes.
Bobby acted as crier and opened the proceedings by shouting: "Come, everybody! this is the golden oppor- tunity. We have here on exhibition, concealed under this tarpaulin, the greatest living curiosity-the only liv- ing specimen of man and brute combined, captured in the wilds of the Ozark mountains in infancy, and reared to his present physical state on the bottle, which has been the only nourishment he was ever known to take. For countless centuries, scientists have searched in vain for a living specimen of this lost link. Gentlemen, it has been the good fortune of my scientific co-worker, Professor Riley, to discover, hidden in the sand hills, this long- sought specimen. We have a living proof of the Darwin- ian theory of the origin of man, and it is my pleasure, gentlemen and ladies (if you are ladies), to be in a posi- tion to prove to you, by ocular demonstrations, the truth- fulness of my assertions, for the small sum of one iron dollar-four quarters, two halves, or ten dimes turn the trick, and, while I pass the hat around, Professor Riley will take the pole and stir up this monstrosity."
Kinch would then stagger around to the off-side and proceed to stir up the living specimen by vigorously prod- ding him, in the mid-section, with a broom stick. The sports would "chip in," and soon the necessary dollar was raised, the tarpaulin would be removed, and the fun would begin. Bobby would order a "whisky sour" for himself and Kinch, and they would slowly sip the nectar, in plain view of poor parched Dalton, who would plead for just a taste.
After going through this program at several of the booze resorts, Dalton became frantic with thirst-as crazy
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as a loon. Bobby was deaf to his pleadings for a long while; in fact, he didn't relent until the last saloon had been worked. Then, in a maudlin tone, he ordered Kinch to feed the specimen. Kinch had an empty tobacco bucket handy, and a small force pump with hose attached. Turn- ing this on poor Dalton, he soused him with several buckets of water.
The performance then closed, and Bobby and Kinch mounted the wagon and started over the "dead line" with their living curiosity. Their frequent libations of "lemon sours" had all but knocked them out, and they were much worse off than Dalton, who, through their heroic treatment, was now in a fairly sober condition. In crossing the railroad track, Dalton worked a bottom board loose and dropped to the road, the wheels miracu- lously missed him, and he got up none the worse for the drop. Bobby and Kinch were slowly plodding along, ig- norant of Dalton's escape, when, suddenly, they were brought to a realization of the situation by a bombard- ment of rocks, at short range, from Dalton. In dodging the missles so ruthlessly hurled at them, they lost their balance, and both fell off the wagon, and the mules pro- ceeded leisurely on their way to their barn.
Bobby had thoughtfully provided himself with a bottle of whisky, from the proceeds of the show, and, instantly regaining his feet, he produced the bottle and called for an armistice. Holding the bottle aloof, he served notice on Dalton that, if hostilities did not cease immediately, he would place the bottle in range of the flying missles, and there would be a wanton waste of valuable property; but if Dalton would call off the at- tack, they would adjourn to the Green Front and proper- ly appropriate the contents of the bottle in their usual good old convivial way. It is needless to say that hostili- ties ceased at once, and a happy reconciliation was effected among the three.
Of a somewhat different nature from the treatment
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accorded Dalton, but equally heroic, was a "Dodge City Keeley Cure," administered to one of the convivial citi- zens.
In the bright, halcyon days of Dodge City, there dwelt a lawyer in our midst, who was quite badly crip- pled, but he had a bright mind and was a good lawyer. He, unfortunately, was addicted to the liquor habit, and his earnings were spent for whisky. He neglected his wife and children, and his conduct was such as to be- come a disgrace to the civilization of Dodge City, so the boys concluded to put a stop to it.
One bright summer morning, this lawyer was drink- ing heavily, in one of the principal and most public sa- loons in the town, on Front Street, where everyone could see inside, as they passed, as there was a door on each street, the saloon being on the corner of two streets.
The fellows that decided to administer this dose of the "Dodge City Keeley Cure" to the lawyer, waited until he was surcharged with booze, which they knew would soon be accomplished. He attempted to leave the bar, but fell in a drunken stupor. The boys then procured a coffin, attired him in a conventional shroud, prepared him as carefully as though they were preparing him for the long sleep, except embalming him, powdered his features to give him the ghastly appearance of death, tide his jaws together, and then placed him in the coffin and placed the coffin on a table between the two doors, where he lay "in state", and in view of passersby.
Many persons thought he was really dead and pla- carded him with these emotional and reverential lines: "Judge Burns is dead, that good old soul,
We ne'er shall see him more,
We never more shall see his face,
Nor hear his gentle roar (in police court), saying,
'Guilty, your Honor!'"
He remained in the coffin, in full view, for several hours before he awakened. He was a hideous sight, and,
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after looking in the mirror, he went home completely dis- gusted with himself, sobered up, and was never known to take a drink in Dodge City afterwards. He became one of our most respected citizens, and held several offices of honor and trust. This was a profitable lesson to him, and proved very beneficial to his family and the com- munity.
While the above is highly recommended to those needing the Keeley cure, it is not guaranteed to cure all cases. It depends on the mental and physical make-up of the individual. We tried the same treatment on a prom- inent hotel man, the best landlord Dodge City ever had, but it was not successful in his case. When he recovered, he jumped out of his coffin, shook off his winding sheet, and proceeded to the bar, with an invitation to all the boys to have a drink.
Truth is stranger than fiction, and, to illustrate, the following story of early days in Dodge is related. Every word of this is positively true.
In the last palmy days of Dodge, when the end of her magnificent career of wealth, gambling, dance halls, gilded houses of ill fame, fascinating music, and the quick, sharp bark of the six-shooter were about over, there still clung to her a shadow of her past greatness. Mr. Charles Heins was one of the leaders, and what a great caterer he was, to the palates of those who had wealth and were willing to purchase. There was nothing too good or too rich for his larder, and he found customers, lots of them, at outrageous prices for the goods, of course. Among other things of the past, he still kept up his bar and magnificent stock of liquors, although to do so was almost certain imprisonment. He hid his bar, from the officers of the law, in every conceivable place, and the ingenuity he displayed in keeping out of their clutches was wonderful. At last he placed his bar in a dark cellar, but he had exhausted his supply of barkeepers, so he had
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