Matthew Kerns's Blog: The Dime Library, page 14

The Diamond King

In the bustling streets of Chattanooga, Tennessee, March 1885 marked the arrival of an enigmatic figure who would soon capture the town's imagination and skepticism in equal measure. Dr. Lighthall, as he grandly introduced himself, emerged from the tapestry of traveling salesmen and hawkers to present what he claimed to be the panacea for every ailment—a miraculous elixir that could cure all. But as the townsfolk would soon discover, Dr. Lighthall's promises were as slippery as the snake oil he peddled, and the story of his sojourn in Chattanooga reveals a timeless tale of gullibility, hope, and the perennial allure of a quick fix.

From the Chattanooga Daily Commercial newspaper, Sunday, March 22, 1885.

Intense Excitement

The Diamond King Captures the City

The advent of Dr. J. I. Lighthall in Chattanooga yesterday was the signal for a demonstration seldom witnessed in this city.

Attired in garments unique and expensive, he appeared seated upon a magnificent chariot, to which was attached four handsomely comparisoned horses. A surging crowd followed in the train of the greatest of Indian Medicine Men, vociferously cheering and waving fabrics in the most enthusiastic manner.

Diamonds of extraordinary size and brilliancy ornamented every finger of his hands, and many were attached to his costly silken clothing, from which hung pendant medals and souvenirs, which were also studded with the costly gems.

With the demeanor of a Croesus, he lavishingly cast money into the throng which followed him, and apparently was pleased with the novelty of the realization of the time-worn sentence, "the mad rush for gold."

After leisurely driving about the city, the chariot containing the Diamond King was halted at Broad Street.

After calmly surveying the multitude which quickly surrounded him, he, in a clear and resonant voice, stated the object of his visit to Chattanooga, and alluded to the celebrated medicines, Spanish Oil, Herb of Life, and Consumption Cure.

After mentioning each remedy, he stated cures almost miraculous he had effected with each, and the names of persons who had been benefitted.

To fully substantiate every statement made by him, several dollars were thrown into the crowd, with instructions to telegraph to the persons named by him, and if a reply contrary to his statement was received, to present it and receive thousands of dollars.

After a learned discourse on the wonderful curative properties of the remedies, all were invited to receive treatment for any ailments with which they were afflicted.

Many stepped up to the elegant operating wagon and were relieved.

The most notable feature of the appearance of the Diamond King in public is the manner in which he extracted troublesome teeth.

With perfect ease and apparently no pain, hundreds were extracted free of charge.

Dr. Lighthall will remain in the city for several days and gladly welcome all who are suffering to present themselves at the Chariot to receive the attention and cure which he unquestionably possesses.

This Thursday, October 5, at 8:30 p.m. EST (7:30 p.m. CST), Gene Fowler (co-author of Border Radio: Quacks, Yodelers, Pitchmen, Psychics, and Other Amazing Broadcasters of the American Airwaves, and Metro Music: Celebrating a Century of the Trinity River Groove) will be presenting a live webcast about "The Diamond King" Dr. James I. Lighthall. To find out more about the man who captured the hearts, minds, and pocketbooks of Chattanooga, and so many other cities across the United States, tune in at:

https://actv.org/CablecastPublicSite/watch-now

or:https://www.youtube.com/AllenCityTV

Texas Jack Jr. in Australia

When Texas Jack Junior arrived in Australia in 1890, the sight of an American cowboy in Sydney amused the Australian public to no end. Not long after he arrived in Sydney, Junior was interviewed by an Aussie reporter, who very quickly realized the utility of having an expert with the lariat on hand for Australia's parliamentary proceedings.Later versions of Junior's poem, shared in part here, were different. Also of interest is that in this version of the story, he says that he was abducted by the "Dog" tribe, possibly referring to Hotamétaneo'o, Cheyenne Dog Soldiers or Dog Men, and he claims that Texas Jack not only rescued him, but that he also adopted him.

From The Australian Star, Saturday Evening, March 8, 1890.

“Texas Jack Junior”

A Wild Cowboy

Just from the West

He Challenges any Man in Australia—Buckjumping in any Style—The Lad with the Lasso—Reared with the Indians—Sombrero and Mocassins—A Crack Shot—His Romantic Story

You will be surprised to know that there is in this city a real and particularly live cowboy, one of the real blood from the “trail country,” Texas. He came by the Mariposa, did “Texas Jack, Junior,” unheralded and unsung, but he is here just the same, and, what is more, he is here on business. In the course of the meanderings of our dramatic man among the show managers, he was the first to find him, and during a chat we learned that “T.J. Junior” was the leading member of the famous “Texas Rangers,” who showed all through London and the provinces in opposition to Col. Cody’s Buffalo Bill crew.

He is about the likeliest looking young fellow you could wish to meet, having a clean-looking bronze skin, aquiline nose, and narrow, level, deep-set grey eyes, heavily browed. His teeth are the perfection of evenness and whiteness, and his rich clustering locks are crowned by a sombrero, graceful tipped as only the men of his class can place it. Moreover, he is thick in the neck and set like a model, and when you size him up you find a most picturesque individual, suggestive of trappers and scouts made dear to us by Fenimore Cooper and other writers of his class.

“Texas Jack, Jun.” was taken, when but an infant, prisoner by the “Dog” tribe of Indians, and after years of residence with them the famous “Texas Jack,” cowpuncher and scout, rescued and adopted him. He is here to show. That is to say, he challenges any man in this wide continent to show him a horse he can’t ride, and to show him a mark within the range of his gun he can’t hit. He will show you how they catch with the lariat the wild moke of the plains; in fact, he is here to give a “Wild West” solo that will make his audience sit bolt upright in wonder. Mr. A.L. Cunard, of Soloman’s Museum fame, has got him, and he will before long show him in some public place. Those of you who think you can find a “bucker” to beat him will kindly trot them out.

Texas Jack is also a bit of a poet, and although he does not aspire to be a Joaquin Miller, he nevertheless compares favorably, in his higher flights of poetic ecstasy, with our own Parkes. Here, for instance, is a slab from a little piece entitled “History of Texas Jack,” written by himself:—

My home is in the saddle,

Upon a pony’s back,

I am a roving Cow-boy

And they call me Texas Jack;

They say I am an orphan,

And my name I never knew;

But I’ve often heard the story,

That now I’ll tell to you

In eighteen hundred and sixty-eight,

A little emigrant band

Was massacred by Indians,

Bound West by overland

And then Jack goes on to tell how the emigrant party were massacred, and how he was rescued by a man who fought the thieving Indians. After which he soars again:—

I am a roving Cow-boy,

I’ve worked upon the trail,

I’ve shot the shaggy buffalo

And heard the coyote’s wail;

I have slept upon my saddle.

And covered with the moon;

And I expect to keep it up

Until I meet my doom.

The cowboy’s name is butchered

By the papers in the East

And while he’s in the city

He is treated like a beast;

But in his native country

His name is ever dear

And you bet he’s always welcomed

By the Western pioneer.

After that, the author of the froggie-doggie-loggie outburst ought to challenge the writer to a poetic match for any sum in any style of meter or verse. Anyhow, Jack:—

The “Jaynial” didn’t greet you

To this, our “Southern” home

But Parkes, he’ll try to beat you

At firing off a pome.

Jack, being an expert at lasso-throwing, and being, upon his own word, able to yank a blue bottle off a fat man’s head at 50 yards, it has occurred to us that his skill in this direction might be turned to very excellent and serviceable account amongst the “vagshunters” of the police force. Think what an improvement it would be if Detective O’Sullivan were able to stand off 100 yards, arrest his man, and tow him off to the “jug.” There would be no assaults on the police, the features of the force would never be disarranged, and the ice-cream pants would, under the most trying circumstances, preserve their pristine whiteness and elegance. With a little instruction from our Texan visitor, Constable “346 Q” would, on espying a “wanted,” whirl his lasso twice round his head, let go, and hook his prisoner around the jugular. Now and again he would catch the wrong man, or knock a horse down, or smash a window, or flick his own eye out, but they would be difficulties of a trifling moment compared to the ease, elegance, and comfort with which a “loaded” and refractory tough would be jerked to gaol—when he was caught. It is understood that negotiations are to be opened up at once with the untutored bull-puncher of the Sierras for imparting such instruction. So don’t be alarmed if in a day or so you should be yanked off the top of a ‘bus by the neck, flopped into a dirt-box, and dragged around the street. Your course, under those conditions, is to disengage yourself from the lasso, apologize to the policeman for being the wrong man, and then hunt around for Texas Jack with a hand-saw, cook him, and eat him. Also, the private citizen will be able to take lessons in the use of the lasso. The advantage likely to result from this accomplishment amongst theater-goers and audiences at amateur shows are obvious, and with confidence, we leave it to the intelligent reader to appreciate the boon and the blessing that would result. We have only to add that the Sergeant-at-Arms of the Assembly will be thoroughly instructed in the use of this most valuable arrangement to win the heartfelt thanks of every well-conducted member of the House. Imagine a heated debate in the Assembly, the member from Bungdoodle is noisy, he has got a load and a grievance, and trouble is imminent. Mr. Speaker has already named him, amidst the wildest excitement, but there apart, cool and collected, sits Mr. Harnett, deliberately coiling up the lasso ready for us. The uproar is terrific. Mr. Speaker seizes a speaking-trumpet and roars, “Seargent-at-Arms! Let her go!” Wish! The cowhide cleaves the heated atmosphere of the chamber, a moment’s suspense, and the chosen of Bungdoodle flies through the air, hits against the wall, and flops upon the floor. The Sergeant’s task is easy now. Striding from the chamber, he tows Bungdoodle’s fractured orator into an anteroom, and then returns, coiling as he goes, and ready for another haul. This time it is the member for Jackass Flat who defies the Chair. The order is given again to fire. Whish! She flies again, but something has gone wrong with the works, and to the horror of the House, Mr. Speaker is jerked out of the chair, “laid upon the table,” and dragged through piles of votes and proceedings, electric lights and bottles, onto the carpet. A little mistake like this is not improbable, but after two or three Speakers have been choked, some thousands of pounds worth of property spoiled, and eight sergeants handed, the new arrangement will no doubt work without a single hitch—except the one in the lasso.

Men like Texas Jack are wanted here.

A week and a half after reading about Texas Jack Junior in their papers, the citizens of Sydney saw advertisements, informing them that they could catch the cowboy in action at "Johnny Solomon's Royal Museum and Place of Amusement," a P.T. Barnum-esque attraction on Sydney's George Street. Texas Jack Junior opened at Solomon's on March 22, 1890, and demonstrated his skills with his pistol and rifle, as well as his ability to break any bucking bronco brought to the show.

A review from March 26, 1890, in the Referee newspaper says, "Solomon's Royal Museum is still finding considerable favor with the public, and the principal attraction for the last few days has been Texas Jack, Jun., a handsome young cowboy from the Wild West, who has daily demonstrated his ability to hand his six-shooter, etc. Jack appears fully accoutred in the Western style, with bowie and Colt, and sightseers should certainly pay the Museum a visit, for in addition to the representative of the Western plains, there are any amount of novelties which will well repay anyone who ventures into the Museum."

And on March 29, 1890, the final day of Junior's run of performances at the Royal Museum, a satirical poem by Henry Lawson, writing under the pseudonym Joe Swallow, in response to the spectacle of Texas Jack Junior appeared in the Bulletin.

Texas Jack, you are amusin'. By Lord Harry, how I laughed

When I seen yer rig and saddle with its bulwarks fore-and-aft;

Holy smoke! In such a saddle how the dickens can yer fall?

Why, I seen a gal ride bareback with no bridle on at all!

Gosh! so-help-me! strike-me-balmy! if a bit o' scenery

Like ter you in all yer rig-out on the earth I ever see!

How I'd like ter see a bushman use yer fixins, Texas Jack;

On the remnant of a saddle he can ride to hell and back.

Why, I heerd a mother screamin' when her kid went tossin' by

Ridin' bareback on a bucker that had murder in his eye.

What? yer come to learn the natives how to squat on horse's back!

Learn the cornstalk ridin'! Blazes! — w'at yer giv'n'us, Texas Jack?

Learn the cornstalk — what the flamin', jumptup! where's my country gone?

Why, the cornstalk's mother often rides the day afore he's born!

You may talk about your ridin' in the city, bold an' free,

Talk o' ridin' in the city, Texas Jack, but where'd yer be

When the stock horse snorts an' bunches all 'is quarters in a hump,

And the saddle climbs a sapling, an' the horse-shoes split a stump?

No, before yer teach the native you must ride without a fall

Up a gum or down a gully nigh as steep as any wall —

You must swim the roarin' Darlin' when the flood is at its height

Bearin' down the stock an' stations to the great Australian Bight.

You can't count the bulls an' bisons that yer copped with your lassoo —

But a stout old myall bullock p'raps 'ud learn yer somethin' new;

Yer'd better make yer will an' leave yer papers neat an' trim

Before yer make arrangements for the lassooin' of him;

Ere you 'n' yer horse is catsmeat, fittin' fate for sich galoots,

And yer saddle's turned to laces like we put in blucher boots.

And yer say yer death on Injins! We've got somethin'in yer line —

If yer think your fitin's ekal to the likes of Tommy Ryan.

Take yer karkass up to Queensland where the allygators chew

And the carpet-snake is handy with his tail for a lassoo;

Ride across the hazy regins where the lonely emus wail

An' ye'll find the black'll track yer while yer lookin' for his trail;

He can track yer without stoppin' for a thousand miles or more —

Come again, and he will show yer where yer spit the year before.

But yer'd best be mighty careful, you'll be sorry you kem here

When yer skewered to the fakements of yer saddle with a spear —

When the boomerang is sailin' in the air, may heaven help yer!

It will cut yer head off goin', an' come back again and skelp yer.

P.S. — As poet and as Yankee I will greet you, Texas Jack,

For it isn't no ill-feelin' that is gettin' up my back,

But I won't see this land crowded by each Yank and British cuss

Who takes it in his head to come a-civilisin' us.

So if you feel like shootin' now, don't let yer pistol cough —

(Our Government is very free at chokin' fellers off);

And though on your great continent there's misery in the towns

An' not a few untitled lords and kings without their crowns,

I will admit your countrymen is busted big, an' free,

An' great on ekal rites of men and great on liberty;

I will admit yer fathers punched the gory tyrant's head,

But then we've got our heroes, too, the diggers that is dead —

The plucky men of Ballarat who toed the scratch right well

And broke the nose of Tyranny and made his peepers swell

For yankin' Lib.'s gold tresses in the roarin' days gone by,

An' doublin' up his dirty fist to black her bonny eye;

So when it comes to ridin' mokes, or hoistin' out the Chow,

Or stickin' up for labour's rights, we don't want showin' how.

They come to learn us cricket in the days of long ago,

An' Hanlan come from Canada to learn us how to row,

An' 'doctors' come from 'Frisco just to learn us how to skite,

An' 'pugs' from all the lands on earth to learn us how to fight;

An' when they go, as like or not, we find we're taken in,

They've left behind no larnin' — but they've carried off our tin.

Lawson's poem was a big hit with Australian audiences, with Texas Jack Junior serving as a stand-in for America and Yanks in general. The poem has remained relevant for more than a century, and has occasionally been used as a song, such as this "bush ballad" version by Slim Dusty, Australia's King of Country Music:

https://youtu.be/GtwixykOgM4?si=LrlvPL618LMFMV5-

No Show in Nashville

150 years ago, on September 19th and 20th, 1873, The Scouts of the Plains were scheduled to play Nashville's Grand Opera House. They never showed up.

The show’s advance agent was in the city on September 12th, booking a theater and talking up the show’s stars to reporters.

By the night of the 19th, advertisements had appeared in Nashville’s newspapers for weeks.

And on September 14th, a long profile of Buffalo Bill and his costars appeared in the Nashville Union and American newspaper:

B. Bill, Esq., & Co.

Some Personal Facts Concerning Them.

Personalities are always read with interest, and now that “the Scouts of the Plains” are to make their first appearance before a Nashville public, at the Opera House this week, a few facts concerning them may not be amiss at this time.

The most famous of these men is Wm. F. Cody, otherwise “Buffalo Bill.” A representative of this paper had occasion some three years ago, while connected with the Omaha, Neb., press, to write up this celebrated scout, who was well known in that vicinity and on the plains farther west, long before it occurred to Ned Buntline to put lucre in his own pocket by writing for the columns of the New York Weekly his sensational and extravagant story entitled “Buffalo Bill,” of which story Cody was the central figure.

Cody was born in Davenport, Iowa, twenty-nine years ago, and drifted out on the plains when a mere youth. He developed such a peculiar adaptability for the life of a hunter that he soon became well-known to ranchmen and Indian traders, and up to about a year ago he has been employed by the government as a scout. When the Grand Duke Alexis went out to Fort Kearney from St. Louis a year ago last winter, for the purpose of Bhaving a buffalo hunt, Cody was attached to Gen. Custer’s cavalry command and went with the party, and the Grand Duke was so favorably impressed with him that when he started back to the settlements, he presented the scout with a diamond pin. It may not be out of place to state, in this connection, that it was currently reported in the vicinity of Fort Kearney at that time that Bill had to borrow a shirt in order to utilize the present he had received. but a careful investigation of this matter resulted in the story being proven a canard. However, we can readily believe that William’s wardrobe was not so extensive as at the present time. but even then, he was not a poor man, or rather he was not in destitute circumstances, and it was his custom to visit Omaha about twice a year and have a good time. Upon these occasions he would hire some chap who was familiar with the place to act as his “guide,” and “show he ‘round,” said guide being instructed to carefully note down any little damage to the personal property of others which might be inflicted during Cody’s stay in town, and the latter always paid the bills his guide passed upon as being “O.K.”

The writer met him at one time in an Omaha hat store, where he was fitting himself out with a broad-brimmed soft hat. The proprietor of the establishment told him that his (the proprietor’s) wife had been reading Buntline’s story about him, and that she had a very strong desire to meet him, and offered him the finest hat in the store if he would go home with him. This proposition Cody declined, with the remark that he was not making an exhibition of himself for hats.

Cody is a splendid-looking man, being over six feet tall and straight as an arrow. His hair is of a light color, and he wears it very long. He has been married for several years and has two or three children.

“Texas Jack,” whose real name is J.B. Omohundro, is about the same age as Cody, or perhaps a little younger. He and Buffalo Bill have been together on the plains for several years, and when Buntline made arrangements about a year ago to travel over the country with Cody, he induced Jack to join him. The latter was married to Morlacchi, the famous danseuse, not long since, and it is said that she is traveling with the troupe which performs here this week, but her name does not appear in the bills.

J.B. Hickok, “Wild Bill,” has joined the troop lately. He is not specially or widely known as a scout. For several years he has filled the position of Marshal of the town of Abilene, Kansas, in which capacity he has gained a reputation extending over all the Western States and territories. He has been constantly brought in contact with desperate men who constantly set the laws of the land in defiance, and in the many bloody frays he has had with these characters, he has always come out conquerer. He has a big heart and is widely known for his generous deeds, no one ever appealing to him for aid in vain. He, as well as Texas Jack, is much above the average of mankind, and, taken altogether, three finer specimens of Western frontiersmen than the men who are the subjects of this sketch cannot be found anywhere."

When the big night came, there were no scouts. A notice in the paper explained that “For some reason, the “Scouts of the Plains” did not reach the city yesterday. Consequently, there was no performance at the Opera House last night.

The next night, with a large crowd waiting to be allowed into the Opera House, the show's cast and crew never showed. The Nashville Union and American newspaper reported that "Buffalo Bill and Company, who were advertised to appear last night at the Opera House, failed to make an appearance. A large crowd were present waiting for the doors to open, and of course were sadly disappointed. The cause of a non-appearance is not known."

“The “Scouts of the Plains” have evidently come up missing, so far as Nashville in concerned,” reported the Union and American a day later. “Nothing whaever, of a relable character, has been heard of them since their agent visited the city, a week before last. They were to appear here Friday and Saturday nights, going from here to Memphis at which place they are advertised to appear tomorrow night. We see by late Cincinnati papers that they are also advertised to appear in that city tomorrow night, to commence a two weeks engagement. A great many reserved seats had been engaged for the performance here, but of course, the money will be refunded if the troupe fails to visit Nashville.”

The Scouts did manage to make their next scheduled show in Cincinnati, where a critic’s review makes it sound like the good people of Nashville weren’t missing much. He filed this review:

"Buffalo Bill, King of the Bordermen was brought out to a full house last night...the material of the play consists of the regulation Dutch and Irish characters, a well-rouged heroine, six "Indian" supes, and the three stars: Buffalo Bill, Texas Jack, and Wild Bill—the "border" men, of which the first is the "King."

The Ninth-Street manager, to whose enterprise the town is indebted for this visitation, must be congratulated on having at last found something that pays, for the house last night scooped in every bootblack and corner loafer in town, but as their money is as good as anyone else's, certainly the manager is not in a position to complain.

"Buffalo Bill" is the connecting link between the scum of the cities and the scum of the plains, the mouthpiece of the unfledged ruffianism that requires the vigilance of the police the year round to keep within bounds.

Not one of the three principal roughs has the least notion of acting, for it is as much as any one of them is capable of to recite a simple English sentence, and on his natural level, if he got a position in a theater at all it would be at shoving scenes. It is as "border men," however, that they base a claim to intrude themselves on the community—as killers of half-breed Indians, and fighters about the drinking-shops of new settlements but here, too, they are weak, for there are in our midst , which is at the same time no cause for congratulation, any number of men who could beat them at that game. In our County Jail we have a quartette beside which they are nothing. Cody and his friends always fought, in well-armed gangs, against the effeminate, defenseless beggars of the prairies, while our "Wild Bill," in every case, killed his man in single fray, the victim, three times out of four, being the biggest man. It makes the difference, however, between savage and civilized life, that these brought are let loose to prey upon society, while ours are safely locked up, thus preventing other managers than the Sheriff from getting up a reveal sensation, and he would not be allowed to take money for it.

But there is one good side to the show. By exhibiting themselves, Cody, Omohundro, and Hickok make enough to buy refreshments, which otherwise they might be apt to get in a different way, thus relieving the traveler by night of much anxiety and the corporation treasury of expense. Therefore let them be treated as was old "Eccles" in the play—let them have a fair supply of money."

It was more than two years before Buffalo Bill and Texas Jack finally showed up at the Opera House in Nashville, where they played for four days from December 27-30, 1875. Nashville’s Grand Opera House (which opened as the Adelphi in 1850) lasted until 1902 when it was gutted by a fire. It was rebuilt with the original facade, and in 1916 was turned into the Bijou, Nashville’s black-only theatre in the Jim Crow era.

Where one time Buffalo Bill and Texas Jack performed, now Ethel Waters, Bessie Smith, and Ma Rainey entertained sold-out shows to sitting-room-only audiences. The Bijou was demolished in 1957 to make way for the Nashville Municipal Auditorium.

The tour of 1875-1876 would prove to be the Scouts’ final tour. Of course, Wild Bill was long gone, having traded the theaters of the East for the mining towns of the Black Hills and a date with destiny in Deadwood.

Irish Miners' Memorial in Leadville

The granite stone that marks the grave of Texas Jack Omohundro in Leadville, Colorado's Evergreen Cemetery isn't the one that was placed on the day of his funeral. That one had his name, the date of his death, and a handwritten message in Italian from Jack's wife, prima ballerina Giuseppina Morlacchi. When that first grave marker was stolen, it was replaced with another, this one featuring a drawing of a horse, a rifle, a lasso, and a pair of crossed pistols, along with an incorrect age of 39, adding six years to Jack's age. The second memorial was also stolen, and all that was left when Jack's friend Buffalo Bill Cody visited Evergreen Cemetery 115 years ago, on September 5, 1908, was a white pine slab.

Buffalo Bill eulogized his old friend that day and paid for the permanent granite memorial that marks Texas Jack's grave today. Like the old marker it replaced, it incorrectly lists Jack's age at death as 39.

As many as 1,339 men, women, and children buried in the Catholic pauper section of Evergreen Cemetery weren't lucky enough to have Buffalo Bill to eulogize them and make sure their graves were marked. Perhaps 80% of the bodies resting in Evergreen's unmarked graves were Irish miners, with as many as one-third of them immigrants from the copper mining region on the Beara Peninsula near Allihies in West Cork. These were miners who left home after years of famine and the closure of their local copper mines to look for a better life in America, bringing their families with them. The mines that these men, their fathers, and their grandfathers had worked were gone, but silver was being pulled from the ground in the Rocky Mountains, and they had the skills and the will to pursue this fortune for themselves.

Kathleen Fitzsimmons and Luke Finken have spearheaded the drive for a permanent memorial for these men, women, and children. According to the Leadville Herald newspaper, "estimates show that about 8 to 10 percent of those buried are stillborn children. Half of those buried are under the age of 12, and the average age of those buried is just 23." Kathleen Fitzsimmons says that because of the disparate ages and situations of those buried there, the memorial takes on different significance to each visitor. "For some, it’s an immigrant’s memorial," she said. "For some, it’s a miner’s memorial. For others, it’s a memorial to stillborn children or women [victims] of domestic violence or economic inequities. It can mean so many different things to so many people."

Jim Walsh, the project's historian and a researcher at the University of Colorado in Denver, first visited Evergreen Cemetery in 2003 while working on his doctoral thesis. "I remember saying to myself that day that I was going to make this part of my life's work,” he told Colorado Public Radio. “The people who were buried there, their voices needed to be heard...I couldn't believe that all of these people were just buried without markers. I mean they were given little wooden markers at the time, but it really just grabbed me and stayed with me.”

The impact of their project has a long reach and has spread from Evergreen Cemetery in Leadville, at over 10,000 feet of elevation in Colorado's Rocky Mountains, to Allihies, Ireland, where so many of those buried here were from. Tadhg O’Sullivan, chair of the Allihies Copper Mine Museum, is working with his staff on a genealogy project that will connect people with their relatives who left the area for opportunities in places like Leadville. “It was fascinating for me to discover that there could well be my own ancestors buried in this graveyard in Leadville,” he said. Leadville and Allihies have announced a new sister-city relationship to coincide with the unveiling of the memorial and to honor the links between the two towns.

On Saturday, September 16th, just over 115 years after Buffalo Bill stood in Evergreen Cemetery to eulogize and memorialize his friend and partner Texas Jack, there will be an unveiling ceremony for the memorial. Irish Ambassador to the United States Daniel Mulhall will give a keynote address at the American Conference for Irish Studies West regional conference at the University of Colorado Denver. O’Sullivan and others from the museum will travel for the event to celebrate the twinning of Leadville and Allihies. Kathleen Fitzsimmons, Luke Finken, Jim Walsh, along with Leadville mayor Greg Labbe will be on hand to celebrate the unveiling of a permanent memorial to the men, women, and children buried in Evergreen Cemetery. As part of the memorial, visitors can scan a qr code that will bring up a recording of the names of those buried in the cemetery, as read by residents of Allihies.When all is said and done, visitors at this weekend's ceremony will also participate in Leadville’s annual St. Patrick’s Day Practice Parade. Leadville's practice parade is held in September, six months after the official March holiday. The reason—March in Leadville is too snowy and cold for a full parade. On St. Patrick's Day this year, the low temperature in Leadville was 10° and the mercury never rose above freezing. This weekend, the weather should be warm by Leadville standards, with a low of around 33° and a high of 62°. And like they did at Texas Jack's funeral in 1880 and at Buffalo Bill's eulogy in 1908, the people of Leadville will come to Evergreen Cemetery to honor their dead.

May the road rise up to meet you.

May the wind be always at your back.

May the sun shine warm upon your face;

The rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again,

May God hold you in the palm of His hand.

Go n-éirí an bóthar leat

Go raibh an ghaoth go brách ag do chúl

Go lonraí an ghrian go te ar d'aghaidh,

Go dtite an bháisteach go mín ar do pháirceanna

Agus go mbuailimid le chéile arís,

Go gcoinní Dia i mbos A láimhe thú.

Pitchfork Versus Pitchfork

A New Lawsuit with ties to one of Texas Jack's hunting companions, Otto Franc, and his Wyoming Ranching empire.In the summer of 1878, Texas Jack Omohundro spent the better part of two months in the Wyoming wilderness with two guests, Otto Franc and Dr. Amandus Ferber. It was an eventful summer. They encountered Thomas Edison in Rawlins, where Texas Jack scared the preeminent scientist by shooting a weathervane on the train station from Edison's hotel room window to prove he was the "boss pistol shot of the West." They watched a total solar eclipse from their camp in the wilderness along the Wyoming-Colorado border/ Tip Vincent, the man Jack hired as his assistant for the trip, was ambushed and murdered by notorious bandit "Big Nose" George Parrott. They became possibly the first white men to visit the hot springs of present-day Thermopolis. And they explored the Big Horn Basin, where Franc asked the veteran cowboy Texas Jack if he thought the country was suitable for cattle ranching.

[image error][image error]

Franc was clearly taken with the region. Almost as soon as he got back home to New York City from his trip with Texas Jack, Franc divested himself of his interest in the produce import business he had built with his brothers and headed back to Wyoming to build a cabin on the Greybull River. He spent the cold winters of 1879 and 1880 in that cabin, and in the summer of 1880 began building the ranch houses and barns of his Pitchfork Ranch. He headed to Idaho and purchased a few thousand head of cattle, driving them south and crossing the Continental Divide at South Pass before turning north near Lander, crossing the Owl Creek Mountains, and driving up to his Pitchfork Ranch near present-day Meeteetsee.

The Pitchfork Ranch has been a permanent part of Wyoming's cattle kingdom since that day.

Last week, the Pitchfork Ranch in Wyoming was sued by the Pitchfork Land & Cattle Company, headquartered in West Texas since 1883 (but incorporated in Delaware). Both companies use similar logos, which the Texas Pitchfork claims to have used first.

[image error][image error]

The Texas Pitchfork alleges that by using the logo and name to sell cattle, beef, ranching services, and merchandise, the Wyoming Pitchfork is harming its brand. Further, the Texas company is asking the court to find the Wyoming company in violation of its registered trademark rights, forcing it to forfeit all sales and profits made using the Pitchfork name. In an interview with Cowboy State Daily, Pitchfork Ranch (Wyoming) manager Ben Anson said that the challenge would be finding documentation from the 19th century to support their claim to the Pitchfork name. My own research into the Pitchfork has uncovered the usage of the Pitchfork brand from as early as 1887, where Otto Franc used a crude drawing of the brand in his diary to keep track of cattle.

The earliest newspaper reference I can find is from the Montana Farming and Stock Journal of September 19, 1889, which lists that the Pitchfork Cattle Company sold 1,500 head of cattle to the Neideringhaus Brothers and their Home Land & Cattle Company. A subsequent appearance in the May 29, 1890 edition of the Billings Gazette of Billings, Montana, confirms both the name and brand were well established by this time.

The Pitchfork Ranch in Wyoming has been in the public eye for years. Following the death of Otto Franc in 1903, the ranch was purchased by L. G. Phelps. Phelps' son-in law, Charles Belden, captured a series of photographs at the Pitchfork that exemplified cattle culture in the American West, and appeared in or on the covers of national magazines like National Geographic, the Saturday Evening Post, and Life. Twelve years ago, the Baker family purchased the Pitchfork, and have maintained it as a working cattle ranch operating around 100,000 acres.

For more in-depth coverage of the Pitchfork lawsuit, read this article in .

Click here for information about Otto Franc.

For pictures of the Pitchfork and information about Charles Belden, click here.To read the accounts of Otto Franc and Amandus Ferber of their trek with Texas Jack, start at A Trek Out West - Part 1.

For more information about the murder of Tip Vincent and the grisly story of Big Nose George, click here.

And for the story of Texas Jack, check out my book, Texas Jack: America's First Cowboy Star.

Bob Barker

Bob Barker, who died today at the age of 99, was a legendary broadcaster, beloved by millions as the hose of gameshows The Price is Right and Truth or Consequences. What many people may not realize is that Bob Barker was a proud member of the Sioux tribe.

Born on December 12, 1923, in Darrington, Washington, Bob Barker was one-eighth Sioux and grew up on the Rosebud Indian Reservation in South Dakota. During high school in Missouri, he met his future wife, Dorothy Jo Gideon, at an Ella Fitzgerald concert. After receiving a basketball scholarship, he attended Drury College in Springfield, Missouri. As World War II loomed, Barker enlisted but was instructed by the Navy to stay at college for two years. He began his military training in 1943, progressing to preflight and basic training, then trained as a fighter pilot. Though his missions during the war were training-centric, stationed in Florida, he played a key role in training US Navy crews. In 1945, Barker married Dorothy Jo. Although he started training on the F4U Corsair in Michigan, the war ended before his Pacific Theater deployment. Post-war, he completed his degree at Drury, graduating summa cum laude in economics.

Bob's Sioux ancestry comes from the marriage of his grandfather, Joseph Hubbard Barker, and A Sioux woman named Francis Tackett. Joseph was one of the first white men to cross the Badlands to the Yellowstone River, arriving with Captain Alfred B. Brackett's Battalion of General Alfred Sully's Army in pursuit of Lakota including bands of Hunkpapa, Sans Arcs, Miniconjous, and Blackfeet, along with Dakota of the Wahpekute band.When we look back at the transformative period of the American West, few men witnessed its early development or endured as many challenges as Joseph H. Barker. Born on September 10, 1832, in Russia, Herkimer County, New York state, Joseph's journey was marked with trials from an early age. He lost his father, Oliver Barker, to a lightning strike when he was only four. His mother, Ruth, later remarried, and in 1844, the family sought new beginnings in Wisconsin. The move was daunting, as they journeyed by wagon through dense forests, eventually settling 35 miles from Milwaukee. This relocation marked the start of Joseph’s independent life. At fifteen, he left home for Milwaukee, embarking on a job on a lake vessel with a mere two dollars and fifty cents gifted by his mother.

In the spring of 1854, Barker moved further west to Mankato, Minnesota. His ventures ranged from hotel clerk to billiard hall owner. However, his life took a dramatic turn in 1861 when he answered the call to arms. Enlisting at Fort Snelling, Minnesota, Barker served in the Civil War in Brackett's Minnesota Battalion of Cavalry. His military experiences spanned numerous battles, and he took part in the fighting at both the Battle of Killdeer Mountain and the Battle of the Badlands. By June 1866, Barker returned from duty, receiving an honorable discharge.

Post-military life saw Barker exploring various occupations in the West. By 1868, he had delved into clerical work with military traders and later with Indian traders, including interactions with the Rosebud Indians. In 1871, Joseph married Fannie Tackett, a woman of French and Sioux descent. After a stint as a hotel owner and farmer in Springfield, South Dakota, he acquired a trading franchise with the Santee Agency, operating a store for over a decade. Barker, using his wife's affiliation with the Sioux tribe, secured land, establishing a thriving farm and a residence.

Beyond his professional journey, Barker's personal life was equally rich. He and Fannie had four children, each carving their own unique paths. His son Byron John Barker, born in 1887, was the father of Bob Barker. Byron was a high-voltage lineman by profession but was known throughout South Dakota as an expert horseman, having won first prize in several roping competitions in the state.

Bob Barker was raised in Mission, South Dakota, on the Rosebud Reservation, where his mother was a teacher and later superintendent of schools for Todd County, South Dakota. Barker was incredibly proud of his Sioux heritage, and once told an interviewer that, "I've always bragged about being part Indian because they are a people to be proud of. And the Sioux were the greatest warriors of them all."

Red Sapphire Arrives September 5th

Hollywood's Unsung Heroine: “Red Sapphire: The Woman Who Beat the Blacklist” Set to Release!

In three weeks this Tuesday, a book is coming out by one of my absolute favorite authors that will shine a light on an important, but until now largely overlooked, figure in American history. “Red Sapphire: The Woman Who Beat the Blacklist” by acclaimed author Julia Bricklin is not just a biography but an ode to the indomitable spirit of women in an era and industry fraught with challenges, both personal and political.

Hitting the shelves on September 5, “Red Sapphire” is the arresting tale of Hannah Weinstein. While some might have brushed past her name in history, Bricklin’s book makes sure that no one will ever forget it. Weinstein wasn't just a force in the world of television—one of its first female showrunners—she was also a beacon of hope and resilience for those who found themselves at the mercy of the notorious Hollywood blacklist during the Red Scare in the era of Senator Joe McCarthy.

What the Critics Say

As if the very premise of this story isn't enough, the raving pre-release reviews are certain to elevate anticipation. Rebecca Prime, noted author of Hollywood Exiles in Europe: The Blacklist and Cold War Film Culture, says “Bricklin’s meticulously researched book reveals the indomitable will and enviable powers of persuasion that fueled Weinstein’s astonishing achievements in a male-dominated industry. Bricklin writes with verve, wit, and a deep appreciation for what it means to live a life of political engagement. This is an engaging and overdue account of Weinstein’s story.”

Similarly, Edgar Award-winner Christina Lane, author of Phantom Lady: Hollywood Producer Joan Harrison, the Forgotten Woman Behind Hitchcock, heaps praise upon “Red Sapphire” for illuminating Weinstein's relentless efforts towards democratizing the world of films and her relentless advocacy for blacklisted writers. The relevance of Weinstein's story in our current times, as mentioned by Lane, only underscores the book's importance.

With the spotlight on Weinstein, Jennifer Keishin Armstrong (When Women Invented Television) underscores the necessity of “Red Sapphire” by saying that it acts as a "crucial antidote" to the marginalization of influential women of that era.

Film critic Elizabeth Weitzman's glowing endorsement illuminates the vivid imagery and rich details Bricklin wields to bring Weinstein's life to the forefront.

Kirkus Reviews says, “The strength of this well-researched book lies in the abundance of information it provides about Weinstein’s contributions to the often entangled worlds of entertainment and politics . . . readers seeking to understand the McCarthy era and how it resonates today, as well as those interested in women working at the intersection of media and politics, will find this book of interest. Illuminating reading.”

With a starred review, the Library Journal says, “Written with the pulsating pace of a thriller, this book will likely attract readers and scholars interested in political journalism, women in film and television, and mid-20th-century pop culture history.”

Why You Should Read "Red Sapphire"

Julia Bricklin is one of my favorite modern biographers. She has the ability to weave history and literary narrative into page-turning biographies of otherwise ignored subjects. Her bios of Lillian Frances Smith, Polly Pry, Ned Buntline, and Burmah Adams are each great, and each unique. I’ve lost track of how many copies of these books I’ve given as gifts, and of how many recipients have told me they went on to read the others after they finished the one I gave them. Red Saphhire promises to illuminate a forgotten corner of history and to give credit where it's long overdue. It's about recognizing that amidst the glitz and glamour of Hollywood, there were unsung heroes who changed the narrative, all while battling personal and political adversities.

Hannah Weinstein's story is a testament to the power of conviction, the resilience of the human spirit, and the lasting legacy one person can leave behind. Bricklin’s exhaustive research and exquisite storytelling make this book not just an informative read, but also an emotional journey.

As September 5 approaches, mark your calendars. “Red Sapphire: The Woman Who Beat the Blacklist” is more than just the biography of a television producer—it’s an account of a life that will inspire, educate, and remind us of the indomitable spirit of the women who shaped history, often from behind the scenes.

Editorial Gossip

Even three years after his death in 1880, the name "Texas Jack" remained a stand-in for a certain kind of reckless courage.

From the Lancaster, New York, Times, July 19, 1883:

There is a young lady at Lapeer, Minnesota, who spends most of her time going to her husband's funerals. She is but eighteen years of age, and has been married three times, and her husbands are all dead. If she is going to keep that kind of thing up all her lifetime she will have the men all cleaned out of Minnesota.

She ought to buy a small graveyard and hire an undertaker by the year. It will take a man with as much nerve as Texas Jack to put himself up as the fourth candidate. There is an easy way out of the world for someone contemplating suicide.

Book Trailer

https://youtu.be/k_WK4rcHZAQ

Here's a video trailer I made for Texas Jack: America's First Cowboy Star.

The images were created with MidJourney and are shared below.

[image error][image error][image error][image error][image error][image error][image error][image error][image error][image error]

Images were illustrated with Photoleap to add motion, as in the waterfall and river below.

[image error]

Odd Jobs

Before he was a showman, Texas Jack was a scout. Before he was a scout, Texas Jack was a cowboy. But in between the professions that would make him famous, Texas Jack did what most of us do—he found work where he could get it.After the Civil War, Jack set out for Texas but found himself shipwrecked on the gulf coast of Florida, where he found work as a hunter and school teacher. That's right, America's first cowboy star was also a classroom teacher somewhere around the Florida panhandle. Then, as now, parents in Florida didn't take kindly to upstart teachers sharing lessons that disagreed with their worldview. Texas Jack later recalled that:

The first day I told the little boys and girls the world was round, and the sun stood still to warm it. The children were amazed. In the evening in came the father of a promising young family, the majority of which flourished amongst my pupils.

“What do you mean by tellin’ a lot of damned lies to my youngsters?” says he.

“What do you mean?” cried I.

“Why, you idiot, don’t you be a tellin’ of ‘em that the sun sticks stock still, and this ‘ere earth goes round him? That’s a lie, and you know it. Don’t I see the sun a-gettin’ up every blessed morning in one place, and a-going to bed in t’other, and you idiot you, you keep on a tellin’ them ‘ere youngsters it sits there all day long, contrary to evidence. You go home, young man. You are dangerous and’ll be a-tellin’ of ‘em I ain’t their own father next, you will. Go home, young man.”

With this, the irate paterfamilias bounced out of the room, sweeping his offspring before him like ducklings in a whirlwind.

When Jack got to North Platte for the first time, he once again worked as a school teacher, though this time when the parents asked him if he would teach that the world was flat or round, Jack replied, “I can teach it either way you want it taught...I need the job.”

Jack also found work at the North Platte saloon and billiard hall of Lewis Henry Baker, who Jack likely met when he came into Lincoln County driving a couple of thousand head of longhorn cattle from Texas, some of which were bound for Baker's O'Fallon's Bluff Ranch, the first cattle ranch in Lincoln County. In addition to knowing as much as any man about cattle, Jack was well versed in the relative merits of spirits and tobacco, and Mr. Baker promised the finest selection of both west of Chicago.

It was likely at Baker's saloon that Texas Jack and his friend Buffalo Bill first got to know Ned Buntline, the dime novelist that would turn the stories of their real lives on the prairie into action-filled tales for readers across the country. The 1870 census shows a 23-year-old John Omohundro from Virginia keeping a saloon with a personal estate valued at $350.

He is living in what was probably a rented room on Baker's property, as his dwelling number is 9 below Baker's, on the same census page. Several other men are listed as bartenders on the page, but the only two listed as "Saloon Keepers" are Lew Baker and Jack Omohundro.

Also listed living with Baker is his 1-year-old son, Lewis Baker Junior, who would later become known as Johnny Baker when he toured with Buffalo Bill's Wild West. Texas Jack and Buffalo Bill made quite an impression on the young boy during his early childhood, and after the death of Buffalo Bill's own son Kit Carson Cody, Johnny Baker became like an unofficially adopted child to Cody. It was Johnn Baker who founded Pahaska Tepee, the museum that still stands at Buffalo Bill's grave on Lookout Mountain.