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The first man killed in
Dodge City was a big, tall, black
negro by the name of Tex, and who, though a little fresh, was
inoffensive. He was killed by a gambler named Denver. Mr. Kelly had a
raised platform in front of his house, and the darky was standing in
front and below, in the street, during some excitement. There was a
crowd gathered, and some shots were fired over the heads of the
crowds, when this gambler fired at
Texas and he
fell dead. No one knew who fired the shot and they all thought it was
an accident, but years afterwards the gambler bragged about it. Some
say it was one of the most unprovoked murders ever committed, and that
Denver had not the slightest cause to kill, but did it out of pure
cussedness, when no one was looking. Others say the men had an
altercation of some kind, and Denver shot him for fear Tex would get
the drop on him. Anyhow, no one knew who killed him, until Denver
bragged about it, a long time afterwards, and a long way from
Dodge City, and said he shot him in
the top of the head just to see him kick.
The first big killing
was down in Tom Sherman's dance hall, some time afterwards, between
gamblers and soldiers from the fort, in which row, I think, three or
four were killed and several wounded. One of the wounded crawled off
into the weeds where he was found next day, and, strange to say, he
got well, although he was shot all to pieces. There was not much said
about this fight, I think because a soldier by the name of Hennessey
was killed. He was a bad man and the bully of the company, and I
expect they thought he was a good riddance.
Before this fight, there was "a man for
breakfast," to use a common expression, every once in a while, and
this was kept up all through the winter of 1872. It was a common
occurrence; in fact, so numerous were the killings that it is
impossible to remember them all, and I shall only note some of them.
A man by the name of
[William "Billy"] Brooks, acting assistant-marshal, shot Browney,
the yard-master, through the head-over a girl, of course, by the name
of Captain Drew. Browney was removed to an old deserted room at the
Dodge House, and his girl, Captain Drew, waited on him, and indeed she
was a faithful nurse. The ball entered the back of his head, and one
could plainly see the brains and bloody matter oozing out of the
wound, until it mattered over. One of the finest surgeons in the
United States army attended him. About the second day after the
shooting, I went with this surgeon to see him.
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 He and his girl were both
crying; he was crying for something to eat; she was crying because she
could not give it to him. She said: "Doctor, he wants fat bacon and
cabbage and potatoes and fat greasy beef, and says he's starving." The
doctor said to her: "Oh, well, let him have whatever he wants. It is only
a question of time, and short time, for him on earth, but it is
astonishing how strong he keeps. You see, the ball is in his head, and if
I probe for it, it will kill him instantly." Now there was no ball in his
head. The ball entered one side of his head and came out the other, just
breaking one of the brain or cell pans at the back of his head, and this
only was broken. The third day and the fourth day he was alive, and the
fifth day they took him east to a hospital. As soon as the old blood and
matter was washed off, they saw what was the matter, and he soon got well
and was back at his old job in a few months.
A hunter by the name of
Kirk Jordan and
Brooks had a shooting scrape on the street. Kirk Jordan had his big
buffalo gun and would have killed
Brooks, but the latter jumped behind a barrel of water. The ball, they
say, went through the barrel, water and all, and came out on the other
side, but it had lost its force. We hid
Brooks under a bed, in a livery stable, until night, when I took him
to the fort, and he made the fort siding next day, and took the train for
the East. I think these lessons were enough for him, as he never came
back. Good riddance for everybody.
These barrels of water
were placed along the principal streets for protection from fire, but they
were big protection in several shooting scrapes. These shooting scrapes,
the first year, ended in the death of twenty-five, and perhaps more than
double that number wounded. All those killed died with their boots on and
were buried on Boot Hill, but few of the number in coffins, on account of
the high price of lumber caused by the high freight rates. Boot Hill is
the highest and about the most prominent hill in
Dodge City, and is near the center of the
town. It derived its name from the fact that it was the burying ground, in
the early days, of those who died with their boots on. There were about
thirty persons buried there, all with their boots on and without coffins.
Now, to protect ourselves and property, we were compelled to organize a
Vigilance Committee. Our very best citizens promptly enrolled themselves,
and, for a while, it fulfilled its mission to the letter and acted like a
charm, and we were congratulating ourselves on our success. The committee
only had to resort to extreme measures a few times, and gave the hard
characters warning to leave town, which they promptly did. But what I was
afraid would happen did happen. I had pleaded and argued against the
organization for this reason, namely: hard, bad men kept creeping in and
joining until they outnumbered the men who had joined it for the public
good -- until they greatly outnumbered the good members, and when they
felt themselves in power, they proceeded to use that power to avenge their
grievances and for their own selfish purposes, until it was a farce as
well as an outrage on common decency. They got so notoriously bad and
committed so many crimes, that the good members deserted them, and the
people arose in their might and put a stop to their doings. They had gone
too far, and saw their mistake after it was too late.
The last straw was the
cold-blooded, brutal murder of a polite, inoffensive, industrious negro
named Taylor, who drove a hack between the fort and
Dodge City. Whilst Taylor was in a store,
making purchases, a lot of drunken fellows got into his wagon and was
driving it off. When Taylor ran out and tried to stop them, they say a
man, by the name of Scotty, shot him, and, after Taylor fell, several of
them kept pumping lead into him. This created a big row, as the negro had
been a servant for Colonel Richard I. Dodge, commander of the fort, who
took up his cause and sent some of them to the penitentiary.
Scotty got away and was
never heard of afterwards.
When railroads and other
companies wanted fighting men (or gunmen, as they are now called), to
protect their interests, they came to Dodge
City after them, and here they could sure be found. Large sums of
money were paid out to them, and here they came back to spend it.
This all added to
Dodge's notoriety, and many a bunch of
gunmen went from Dodge. Besides these men
being good shots, they did not know what fear was -- they had been too
well trained by experience and hardships. The
buffalo hunters
lived on the prairie or out in the open, enduring all kinds of weather,
and living on wild game, often without bread, and scarcely ever did they
have vegetables of any description. Strong, black coffee was their drink,
as water was scarce and hardly ever pure, and they were often out for six
months without seeing inside of a house. The
cowboys were about as hardy and wild, as they, too, were in the open
for months without coming in contact with civilization, and when they
reached Dodge City, they made Rome howl.
The freighters were about the same kind of animals, perfectly fearless.
Most of these men were naturally brave, and their manner of living made
them more so. Indeed, they did not know fear, or any such thing as
sickness-poorly fed and poorer clad; but they enjoyed good pay for the
privations they endured, and when these three elements got together, with
a few drinks of red liquor under their belts, you could reckon there was
something doing. They feared neither God, man, nor the devil, and so
reckless they would pit themselves, like Ajax, against lightning, if they
ran into it.
Continued Next
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Great American Bars and Saloons