I should cut Telegraph Days some slack. This is not a novel that aspires for greatness nor one I wanted to read. I picked it off the library shelf for lack of the Larry McMurtry that I did want to read: Texasville. Published in 2006, this amiable western is the first person account of Marie Antoinette Courtright, commonly known as Nellie, who for a time runs the telegraph office in the town of Rita Blanca in 1876. Rather than tell her story, McMurtry trots in every legend of the era--Buffalo Bill Cody, Wyatt Earp, Doc Holliday, etc.--for cameos. Forrest Gump didn't have Nellie's knack for the right place at the right time.
The novel opens with twenty-two year old Nellie discovering her father hanging from a noose in the barn. Having been suckered by sales brochures on the allure of ranching, the Courtrights moved from Virginia to No Man's Land, with Nellie's two little brothers, three little sisters, one older sister, one mother and three servants all succumbing to illness along the way. Left with a mule named Percy and a seventeen year old brother named Jackson, the well-organized Nellie heads for Rita Blanca, a backwater town whose residents aren't sure is in Texas or Oklahoma.
Nellie lands her brother a job as deputy sheriff to Teddy Bunsen, the bachelor lawman who has proposed to Nellie six times and she esteems could use help carrying the drunks out of the street. While Jackson lives at the jail, Nellie takes a room in a boarding house run by Mrs. Karoo, a black woman some suppose is a witch. Learning that the telegraph office closed last month when its operator took a Comanche bride and took off, Nellie offers to run it. After beating the snakes and spiders out, her office does robust business, though bringing Nellie terrible news that Wild Bill Hickok, a fond suitor back east, has been shot and killed in Deadwood.
Jackson later asked me why I took it so hard--but then he hadn't really known Billy. When Bill came to visit us at our hotel in St. Louis he came to see me, not Jackson. Once on our riverboat trip he had even held my hand for a while, after a dance; I suppose I was in love with with by the time he let it go. He went no farther that night, but the shy way he looked at me convinced me he might wish to go farther someday. He had promised to come visit us soon in No Man's Land. Most people didn't realize how shortsighted Billy was. He could hardly see across a card table, another thing that touched me. In my lonely times on the Black Mesa Ranch I managed to keep Billy's memory fresh, and I continued to hope that one day he would show up and hold my hand again, and this time, perhaps even on purpose. Our courtship, if that's what it had been, was not lengthy, but in frontier times, with life so chancy, young people had to jump quick if they hoped to have sweethearts, much less wives and husbands.
Fate intervenes when the murderous Yazee gang rides into town with the intent of killing everything in their path. Nellie wanders into the street and Jackson, who has never fired a pistol, calmly draws it at his sister's urging and shoots each of the gang members dead. Beau Wheless, who runs the general store, seizes on the commercial opportunities of the shootout and proposes that Nellie write up "their story" in a booklet he offers to print and split profits with her on. Nellie decides she can pay for printing herself and keep all the profits, and lights out for Dodge City with Jackson in tow.
On the trail, Jackson Courtright demonstrates his fame as a marksman will be short lived when he proves incapable of hitting any game animal with a gun. In Dodge City, Nellie is accosted by the rude and drunken marshal Wyatt Earp, who feels the wrath of Nellie’s tongue, as well his brother Virgil, who issues a marriage proposal to the telegraph operator on her way out of town. She returns to Rita Blanca with copies of her booklet Banditti which sell like hotcakes. With news of the gunfight all over the wire, a gaggle of curious arrive, including two who will change Nellie's life: a devilishly handsome reporter named Zenas Clark, and legendary showman Buffalo Bill Cody.
While Nellie copulates wildly with Zenas in the hayloft of the livery stable, Buffalo Bill arrives on business. Seeking to put together a wild west pageant, Cody proposes recreating Rita Blanca on a grand scale for customers who want to see the Wild West after it disappears. Charismatic and impulsive, Cody hires Nellie to run his business and she relocates to North Platte, Nebraska for four years to do just that. Not content to settle down, she returns briefly to Rita Blanca to serve as mayor, meeting Billy the Kid and General W.T. Sherman before joining Zenas in Tombstone, where she witnesses the gunfight at the O.K. Corral.
Then I noticed that Zenas and I were hardly the only solid citizens in the street. The photographer, Camilus Fry, whom I had not yet met, was standing there with a black cloth over his arm--I suppose he had been making a picture when he sensed the menace. More than a dozen other citizens were just standing in the street gaping; they had blank, trapped looks on their faces--all of them were mobile, and yet they didn't flee. I had seen that look before, in Rita Blanca, when a cyclone was bearing down on the town--we all knew we ought to run and hide, and do it quick, and yet we didn't move. Fortunately the cyclone just missed us.
The Earps, with Doc Holliday on their right flank, continued their advance, despite the fact that they had no accurate notion of where the Cowboys had gone. The Cowboys' mood or rationale I can only guess at. They were somewhere on the other side of the photography shop, perhaps feeling muddled, with no clear notion of what ought to happen next. They may well have all been outlaws--but were they fighting men? The Earps, of course, were fighting men and not much else. If gunplay should begin, it was highly likely that there would be fewer Cowboys when it ended.
"Nellie, bullets are going to fly," Zenas warned. "We ought to get behind that wagon if you won't hide under the desk."
He was dead right, of course, but I was too stubborn, or maybe too curious to consider anything of the sort. I wanted to see the fight, if there was one; and I wanted to be the first one to write it up, as I had written up the Yazee charge in my Banditti book.
What's remarkable about Telegraph Days is Larry McMurtry's ability to paint characters and dialogue and frontier atmosphere. He's in full-on Elmore Leonard mode here, simply permitting the reader to hang out with his characters regardless of anything happening. Even though this novel is western fantasy--with Nellie ultimately moving to Santa Monica to consort with D.W. Griffith and Lillian Gish among other Hollywood royalty--nearly every page features some delightful observation from Nellie. Her resolve, imagination, way with words and insatiable libido are all facets that make her a likable narrator.
It had been a while since I had paid Sheriff Ted Bunsen much attention--my susceptibilities being what they are, I have a way of forgetting one man when a more interesting man comes along; and even in an out-of-the-way place like Rita Blanca, men more interesting than Ted Bunsen did come along. Andy Jessup, Zenas Clark, and Buffalo Bill Cody all put Ted Bunsen well in the shade when it came to being interesting.
On the other hand, I am not the kind of girl who likes to lose boyfriends. Andy, Zenas, and Bill had temporarily hied themselves off to other parts, but good old reliable Ted could be counted on to be sitting in a rope-bottomed chair in the office of the jail, drinking whiskey that might have a fly or two in it. I decided to slip in and give him a kiss or two, so he wouldn't despair. In fact he was pouring whiskey from his jug to his glass when I came striding in in my forthright way: he jumped about a foot when I surprised him.
"Hello, Theodore," I said. "Deputy Courtright has just placed me under arrest--want to help me pick out a cell?"
As well-written as Telegraph Days is, nothing compelling happens. A colorful and well-manicured rose bush gets boring after a minute. His first-person narrative gives McMurtry license to simply let Nellie tell on and on and on. He makes no effort to craft a story around the telegraph office in Rita Blanca, instead letting the reader do the work, using our awareness of frontier legends or historical figures to spice the novel up. I liked the way McMurtry demythologizes legends--Wyatt Earp is not a good guy and Billy the Kid is not a bad guy--with a dash of wit, but the whole business barely warrants a novel. We're simply watching a master craftsman go about his work.