The End of the Year Report

Past few months have been hectic and harried to say the least.  As you might have read in previous posts, I have been doing the monthly tours at Shakespeare Ghost Town much of this year, as well as the quarterly Living History tours.  Between administration chores and maintaining his health, Shakespeare owner Manny Hough had his hands full.  Once again, when it came time to put up or shit up, this old gunfighter found himself making the mad dash to Lordsburg each month.  It has been a wonderful year, but it has taken its toll on other projects.  I have had the opportunity to meet some wonderful people this year, many through Facebook contacts.  Hopefully they will garner more visitors to the most authentic ghost town of the old west.  Things really hit the fan in late August.  We had the Living History Tour, The Rendezvous of Gunfighters in Tombstone, AZ and the monthly Shakespeare tour all back to back.  Add that I started school again, and finally made the move to the District Clerk's archives made life really interesting.  So blogging and the show took a back seat for awhile.  I do have several interviews lined up for future broad cast, and some video editing to work on.  One of these days I will have everything somewhat caught up and posted.

So Until then, take care, may God bless, and Keep your Powder Dry!

The Great Head Stone Caper: Yet another tale of the Original Buckaroo

The years 1995 and 1996 were interesting ones for this old “Know it All.”  Yes, I am actually writing about the 20^th century for once.  There was my first face-to-face introduction to Mr. Leon C. Metz, and meeting and later going to work for the Buckaroo.  Both men have had a great impact on my life.  I met these men at the same place, the Centennial Celebration of Hardin’s death held at the Hacienda Café down on the Rio Grande. 

It was a heck of an event. The Paso del Norte Pistoleros re enacted the killing several times that day. Bill Mansion, playing Hardin, hit the floor at least fifty times before it was done and over with.  The after a brief walking tour of the downtown area, we went out to Concordia and had a Champaign toast to the slain gunman.  It was a memorable night to say the least.  As we all went home, the excitement wasn’t over just yet.

Down in Nixon, Texas some folks got together and decided it would be a nice tourist attraction iffn they dug up old Wes and moved him to his “home town” for his final resting place.  Maybe they could even move poor Jane Bowen Hardin from the cow pasture she lay in, to rest beside her husband.  Never mind the fact that Nixon, Texas didn’t exist during Hardin’s lifetime.  So…. the folks found a distant relative, and a Judge willing to sign an court order.

Now The Buckaroo was a member of a group of well meaning, gun toting, for want of a better word, red necks.  Matter of fact they called themselves the “Coalition Of Red Necks”, or CORN. They met for breakfast every Saturday morning, discussing how to cure the world’s ills, who did what to whom, and the latest scandals out of the Puzzle and Crystal Palaces. (City Hall & County Court House for those unfamiliar with my names for these institutions) Well someone had the brilliant idea that iffn they couldn’t find Hardin’s headstone, they wouldn’t know where to dig.  So…. They loaded up and drove down to Concordia, and after much grunting and groaning, the stone was hauled off and stashed in plain sight.  It’s scary, but they came up with this idea, while sober.

The folks from Nixon were met by various members of CORN, local gunfight groups, and law enforcement the next day.  Nothing got resolved then and there, but the “battle” was taken to court.  But news of the theft of the head stone of John Wesley Hardin galvanized the community like nothing else could have.  In injunction was emplaced. And as far as the legal side goes, it’s still at a standstill.

Ironically, the stone was “found” a couple of days later in from of the Buckaroo’s shop.

And that’s the story of the great headstone caper.

Until next time, Take Care, God Bless, and Keep Your Powder Dry

The Gun That Fired All Calibers, or things I learned from the Buckaroo

Was listening to the Leon Metz Radio Show the other day.  The guests were John Hansen and Joel Jones, local history buffs and veteran gun collectors. Mention was made of the guns used during the Mexican Revolution, and it triggered some memories of great stories I learned from the Original Buckaroo as we sat around the back room of the shop.  That back room was a great place to gain a wealth of knowledge of history, guns, and the unmentionable history of the Old West.  Come to think of it, the best stuff the Buckaroo shared of his vast knowledge was unmentionable in mixed company.

To put himself through school, the Buckaroo would travel rural Mexico during the early 1960’s, armed with a generator and 8mm movie projector. He’d charge a few centavos to watch old westerns projected on a sheet hung the far side of the placita.  One the show was over; the Buckaroo would ask around and find out who might have old guns they would be willing to sell.  For dirt cheap, he would pick up old Colt Single actions, and Winchester carbines, and haul them back to El Paso for resale.

During one such trip, he was directed to this little old man. Following an old goat trail up the mountain, the Buckaroo found the dingy adobe shack the old man lived in.  In traditional Mexican fashion, the old man would bring out one gun at a time, and they would dicker over the price.  The Buckaroo picked up a couple of decent pistols, and passed on the others. This went on for quite awhile. 

Finally, the old man brought out the last gun, his best gun.  The Buckaroo was skeptical when he saw the old man proudly lay down a worn out gray ghost of a single action.  There was no telling how long the barrel had been originally, it had been bobbed years ago.  The cylinder wobbled as it cycled, and didn’t quite lock up in battery.  The grips were homemade blocks, poorly fitted.  The gun was a wreck waiting to happen, yet the old man was extraordinarily proud of it.

“This gun my best gun, Shoot all calibers!” exclaimed the old man.

 To prove his point, the old man loaded a .44 special cartridge into the cylinder and let loose into the ceiling.  In that tiny room, the boom was deafening.  Dust and debris from the roof rendered the air almost un-breathable.  It didn’t deter the old man.  He next loaded a .45 Long Colt, followed by a .38-40, .44-40, and .44 Russian cartridges.  There was no telling what caliber it had been originally chambered in, but it was worn out to the point where you could shove about anything into it and fire. 

The previous guns had gone for anywhere between 8 and 12 dollars, but for this gun, the “Gun That Fired ALL Calibers”, he would have to have $25.  Of course, the Buckaroo had to pass on the deal.   

To be truthful, this story was a lot better when the Buckaroo would tell it.  The gestures, and faces he’d make in the telling were hilarious.  And I do admit that I wish he had bought the “Gun That Fired ALL Calibers.”  It would have made a great display of one man’s junk being another man’s treasure.

Until next time, Take Care, God Bless, and Keep your Powder Dry!

Euolgy for an Icon

July 17^th saw a minor tragedy here in El Paso.  The Prairie Flower was skimming through her Facebook, when she pointed out that there was a fire down town.  With heavy heart I checked out the local news station’s website, and sure enough, it was one of the buildings I worry about.  The reporter only knew it as an historic old building that houses a liquor store.  It was not just any old building.  It had once been the Wigwam Saloon.

The original build went up in 1883, as the Fashion Saloon.  It was the first saloon to feature electric lights.  It remained one of the more fashionable salons, being renamed the Wigwam in 1889.  As the Wigwam, the saloon earned its place in El Paso history.  In 1889-1890, prior to becoming Constable, John Selman worked as a bouncer  at the Wigwam.  Saloon keepers, political hack, and rancher George Look owned the Wigwam for a period of time.  With the arrival of John Wesley Hardin in 1895, the Wigwam played a part in his saga.  For a brief time in May ’95, the famed gunman had a half interest in the saloon.  May 1^st, Hardin didn’t like the play at the poker table, and robbed the pot.  The alley beside the Wigwam has a history as well.  It was the very early hours of Easter Sunday, 1896 that Deputy Marshal George Scarborough pumped three bullets into Constable John Selman.

After the turn of the century, and the demise of legal gambling in El Paso, the owners partial demolished the building, and rebuilt it as a theatre.  The Wigwam Theatre became a mainstay of downtown entertainment for years, eventually becoming the State Theatre.  By the 1970’s the establishment was showing 2^nd run movies, and by the late 80’s Spanish language and adult films.  It finally closed.  Since then various businesses have occupied parts of the building.  Until last year, a liquor store operated out of the saloon proper, while a credit agency and later a gun store occupied the rest.

With the fire, it is difficult to guess what is going to happen to this icon of the American West.

Remembering an Mentor

The Military Mail Station at Shakespeare Ghost Town.

As I was pondering just what the heck to write about this week, I realized I had several topics to choose from. There was that fateful day I 1994 when I signed out of the U.S. Army for the very last time.  There was also the anniversary of the first train arriving in El Paso.  Then I realized, and I was saying a prayer for some new found luck, that there was one anniversary I just had to discuss, the loss of a great lady, and her legacy.

I had the great honor and privilege of knowing Janaloo Hill for over eight years.  Almost from the start, she took me under her wing and shared her knowledge of history and western lore, as much as would actually soak through my thick skull.  And it is thanks to her that I can claim to actually be a cowboy.  I may not be much of a hand, but I earned my spurs working the Lazy FH herd. 

It was April of 1997 (Alright, so I actually typed 1897 the first time around).  The great fire had just  destroyed her home and most of her personal processions, but there was Janaloo, despite the trauma and grief, giving the tours as if nothing had happened.  That was Janaloo.

Throughout the time that I knew her, Janaloo was always the Lady.   Even in work clothes, riding out to hunt down a sick cow, she remained that mythical creature so rarely seen these days.  I knew of only two things that would get her to curse.  It’d take a politician, or a stubborn, ornery cow to get Janaloo to mutter a single, solitary “Damn.”  She didn’t tolerate fools lightly, but she could bring out the best in everyone one around her.

I remember those last few days all too well.  In April she informed us that the Chemo wasn’t doing the job, and it was just a matter of time.  I packed up and headed to Lordsburg in early May.  The game plan was to find a job and a place for the new bride and I to live, before Janaloo got too bad.  As with any great plan, that went out the window as soon as I arrived.  Janaloo was bedridden.  So as Manny stayed at her side to care for his wife, I manned the gate to keep out the riff raff, and allow in the friends and nurses.   Come the 25^th, I headed back to El Paso for a dentist appointment and to pick up the Prairie Flower.  We returned to Shakespeare the afternoon of the 26^th to find Janaloo had taken a turn for the worse.  I did the evening chores and sat on the bunkhouse steps fretting and worrying.  Along about bedtime, the Prairie Flower and I lock up the town for the night, shut down the windmill, rotate dogs, and feed the cats.  We reported in to the main house as usual to report everything was secure for the night.  I’d no sooner sat down and fired up a cigarette when the exterior lights switched on.  Janaloo was gone; she had waited for the day’s chores to be completed before she left. That was back in 2005.

In the years since we lost the soul of Shakespeare, a lot of work has been done, mainly under the direction of her husband, Manny Hough, to keep Janaloo’s dreams and hopes alive.  2010 saw the Hill Family Museum/ Visitor Center built, and the Dance Studio refurbished and opened to the public.  Work has been done on both the General Merchandise and Stratford Hotel.  Manny and many others are still striving to preserve the ghost town of Shakespeare, and research her history.  In a small way, I’m doing what I can to help.  But we all still miss her very much.

 Until next time, take care, may God bless, and keep your powder dry!