by Enss, Chris
The True Story of Life on the Wild West Show
Chris Enss
Foreword by Peter Sherayko
GUILFORD. CONNECTICUT
HELENA, MONTANA
AN IMPRINT OF GLOBE PEQUOT PRESS
A · TWODOT® · BOOK
Copyright © 2010 by Chris Enss
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, except as may be expressly permitted in writing from the publisher. Requests for permission should be addressed to Globe Pequot Press, Attn: Rights and Permissions Department, P.O. Box 480, Guilford, CT 06437.
TwoDot is an imprint of Globe Pequot Press and a registered trademark of Morris Book Publishing, LLC.
Project editor: Jessica Haberman
Text design: Sheryl P. Kober
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Enss, Chris, 1961–
The many loves of Buffalo Bill : the true story of life on the Wild West show / Chris Enss ; foreword by Peter Sherayko.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-0-7627-4815-0
1. Buffalo Bill, 1846–1917. 2. Buffalo Bill, 1846–1917—Relations with women. 3. Pioneers—West (U.S.)—Biography. 4. Entertainers—United States—Biography. I. Title.
F594.B94.E57 2010
978’.02092—dc22
[B]
2009034233
Printed in the United States of America
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
Foreword by Peter Sherayko
Introduction
ONE: Man of the Family
TWO: The Courtship of Louisa
THREE: Husband, Father, Scout, and Actor
FOUR: Life in the Limelight
FIVE: The Dear Favorite
SIX: Away from Home
SEVEN: The Lady of Venice
EIGHT: The Cody Trials
NINE: A Wandering Heart
TEN: The Sharpshooter
ELEVEN: The Final Ride
Notes
Bibliography
About the Author
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It takes the help of many to write a book of this nature. It is with that in mind that I express my deep sense of appreciation to individuals and organizations for their kind and generous assistance in the preparation of this work. Without such help and cooperation, the gathering of much valuable data would have been all but impossible.
The kindness of librarians, historical society directors, representatives of the National Archives and Record Service, various newspaper staff members, and others in allowing me to review and duplicate important documents has aided significantly in the compiling of interesting biographical material. To these organizations and individuals, I wish to extend my heartfelt thanks: the staff at the Buffalo Bill Historical Center and the McCracken Research Library—in particular Mary Robinson; Judy Logan at the Garst Museum in Greenville, Ohio; the morgue departments at the Chicago Tribune and the New York Times; the South Dakota State Historical Society in Pierre, South Dakota; the Missouri History Museum; and Mary Ann Trygg and the staff at the Nevada County Madelyn Helling Library.
And to these individuals, many of whom have given most generously of their time, thank you so much: actor Peter Sherayko, historian Ron Sturgell, Howard Kazanjian, Stephanie Rogers, my editor Erin Turner, the art department at Globe Pequot Press, and Barrett Williams.
FOREWORD
I’ve got a good woman—what’s the matter with me? What makes me want to love every woman I see?
—HANK WILLIAMS JR.
In 1883 a remote cow town in Nebraska was treated to the grand opening of a show that would reign as America’s favorite for thirty years. It was Buffalo Bill’s Wild West. Bill Cody played Buffalo Bill professionally for more than forty years, a role that probably will never be topped.
In 1900 the Who, What and Where book published hundreds of photos and biographies of kings, presidents, world leaders in business, and other famous people. Buffalo Bill is the only personality from America’s western frontier. Daniel Boone, Davy Crockett, Jesse James, General George Custer, Billy the Kid, Wild Bill Hickok—not one of them appeared in these pages. Only William F. Cody—Buffalo Bill—received that honor. His fame was so wide that he ranked with the most powerful men of all time. Virtually every American knew of Buffalo Bill: how he earned his nickname, rode for the Pony Express, fought and befriended Indians, scouted for the U.S. Army in both the Civil War and Indian wars, and performed for ten seasons as a professional actor—all before the age of forty.
When he created his Wild West Exhibition, Cody gave his audience their money’s worth: wild Indians, fancy roping, and deadeye marksmanship. But Bill himself topped them all, shooting his rifle from horseback at a full gallop and breaking dozens of glass balls thrown into the air. The crowd loved it, and so did the press and dime novelists, with writers such as Mark Twain praising the show. In short, he out-Barnumed P. T. Barnum. The exhibition set attendance records throughout the United States and Europe.
More than a hundred books and articles have been written about Cody the frontiersman and entertainer. What more could be said? Well, in The Many Loves of Buffalo Bill, Chris Enss has uncovered another notch in the Shakespearean life of Bill Cody. Yes, Cody was a showman, a frontiersman, a man whose life started during the Mexican-American War and ended just as the United States entered “the war to end all wars,” World War I. Yet he was a man, a man in the truest sense of the word, one who cut his own trail and followed his own spirit guide. As a boy, he marveled at men like Kit Carson, who taught him how to shoot from horseback, and Jim Bridger, who taught him Indian sign language. As a ten-year-old he dreamed of becoming one of his buckskin-clad heroes, and by golly by gum, he did. But he was tainted with the sins of man: an eye for beauty and strength; an admirer of courage and adventure; and in some circles, a weakness for cigars, whiskey, and women. In his own words, “Yeah, I like my cigars and whiskey and I sure do love those women.”
Chris Enss gives us the stories behind many of the beauties who captivated Buffalo Bill. She gives us a clearer insight into a simple yet complicated man—the showman Buffalo Bill and the man Bill Cody. Yet for all of his fame, money, and problems, he was a complex hero, and Chris Enss gives us some clues and answers to his character. It’s great how writers and researchers uncover questions that so many of us curious followers of American history have. My hat is always doffed and a glass is raised to the hero of the West, Buffalo Bill, and now, thanks to Chris—a glass is raised to her.
Chris Enss is truly a woman of the West. Her previous books, mostly about women of the frontier West, are enjoyable and informative. We met several years ago at a mutual book signing in Tombstone, Arizona. I was impressed not only by her charm and style but also by her incredible knowledge and passion for what Buffalo Bill called “God’s biggest playground.” We are indeed lucky today that a whole new breed of people are influencing, educating, and entertaining those of us who are interested in American history. Chris Enss is truly one who has blessed us with her knowledge and passion for stories of the West that haven’t been, but need to be, told.
RIDE HARD AND SHOOT STRAIGHT!
—PETER SHERAYKO
INTRODUCTION
If he isn’t a pet with the women he ought to be.
—OBSERVATION FROM A FEMALE NEWSPAPER REPORTER, J. M. W., IN AN ARTICLE ENTITLED “COLONEL CODY TALKS” (1894)
A sea of elegantly dressed, excited guests lined the hallway of a refined hotel in Omaha,
Nebraska. The buzz of conversation was deafening as they clustered into an open door leading to a gigantic suite. Waiters in tails and white gloves and carrying trays of champagne-filled glasses weaved around the congregation. It was the winter of 1877, and people from all walks of life were at the posh inn. Entertainers, businessmen and -women, cattle barons, and politicians helped them-selves to the abundance of wine and toasted one another’s good fortune.
The chatter and drinks were set aside when the guest of honor arrived on the scene. The entire room was galvanized into a tumultuous applause as thirty-one-year-old William F. Cody entered and made his way through the crowd. He smiled appreciatively in response to the enthusiastic welcome. Standing six feet one inch tall, the man was draped in a tuxedo-style waistcoat, vest, and perfectly pressed trousers.1 His dark, curly, shoulder-length hair, thin mustache, and small goatee completed his handsome, polished look.
Beautiful women in taffeta gowns and lace bonnets jockeyed for a place beside him. He reveled in the attention and politely allowed one of the coquettish disciples to slide her dainty arm into the crook of his.
He held the audience that had gathered around him captive with his genteel manner and fascinating tales of life on the wild frontier. “I was fourteen when I signed on as one of the Pony Express riders,” William proudly announced. “They argued that I was too young for the job, but I insisted I could do it, and finally they gave me the shortest route, a ride of thirty-five miles with three changes of ponies.”2 William explained to the crowd that he rode seventy miles every day for three months. “When it became apparent to the men in charge that the boys could do better than forty-five miles a day the stretches were lengthened,” he continued. “The pay of the rider was from $100 to $125 a month. It was announced that the further a man rode the better would be his pay…. In stretching my own route I found myself getting further and further west. I never was quite sure when I started out when I should reach my destination or whether I should never reach it at all.”
William’s admirers gushed and commended him for his service. As he was graciously accepting the praise, his wife, Louisa, entered the room from an adjoining suite and faded inconspicuously into the crowd. She surveyed the inspired faces watching her husband, taking particular notice of the ladies flanking him on either side. The petite, porcelainskinned woman fought to maintain her composure as one of the brazen ladies leaned in closely to William and whispered in his ear. He grinned a schoolboy grin and casually glanced around the room. His expression changed slightly when his eyes met Louisa’s.3
The occasion for this well-attended event was a farewell party for William’s theatrical troupe. The couple’s marriage, already strained because of months of separation, was further harassed by rumors of infidelity. Louisa had spent the better part of her relationship with William struggling with insecurities.4 Vying for his attention were the vast, untamed plains, the love of adventure and scouting, and the intoxicating limelight. At the beginning of their marriage, she had tried to get him to settle into a predictable and steady life-style. William made a valiant effort. He purchased an inn in Leavenworth, Kansas, and tended to the needs of travelers passing through. His overly generous nature nearly brought the business to ruin, however. Guests with little or no money were allowed to stay at the hotel for free, and meals were included in the price.5
In addition to William’s abysmal business practices, there was another hint of his restlessness: an absent, far-off expression that lingered in his eyes. Louisa’s sympathy for his passion to travel was heightened by the many books on the subject of frontier life. Knowing he would never be truly happy as a landlord, she released him from the obligation of the inn and sent him back to work on the open range. In the decade since that time, William had been appointed Chief of Scouts for the Fifth U.S. Cavalry, won the Medal of Honor with George Custer, and hunted buffalo for the railroad, subsequently earning him the nickname Buffalo Bill. Along with those accomplishments, William and the dime novelist Ned Buntline formed a successful theatrical troupe with Bill Hickok and Texas Jack Omohundro called the Buffalo Bill Combination.
Reports in newspapers and magazines about William’s many heroic deeds helped make him famous from coast to coast. Such notoriety brought more demands on his time. Home and family were sandwiched between jobs such as scouting for the military and performances onstage and in lecture halls.
Louisa resigned herself to waiting supportively in the background while William shared his exciting exploits with an adoring public, but she resented the overt attention of many of the women in his sphere of influence. Against warring Indians, inhospitable terrains, and wild animals, he was a strong, resilient man, but he was vulnerable to charming female supporters.
The party was in full swing, and Louisa helped herself to a glass of wine and occasionally chatted with a guest or two. The evening progressed without a clear opportunity for her to be in William’s immediate orbit. The festivities slowly wound down, and one by one the guests said their good-byes and left the hotel suite. Undaunted by the late hour, William continued to hold court with the actresses who had been with him throughout the night. Eventually, they too realized it was time to go and bade farewell to their host by kissing him on the cheek. Louisa’s eyes were glued to the scene. She was shocked by such a public display and even more so when she saw William return the women’s kisses.6
Louisa pushed through the dwindling group of partygoers and marched over to William. He could see she was upset and attempted to calm her distressed demeanor. She disregarded his attempt to talk to her and loudly scolded him for his insensitive behavior. A hush fell over the room, and only Louisa’s heated words rose above the quiet. William handled the intense, embarrassing exchange with as much dignity as he could muster. After she spoke her mind, Louisa stormed out of the room. William watched his wife walk away; then he turned his attention to the uncomfortable guests and wished them well as they made their way out.
Looking back on the incident years later, William didn’t understand why Louisa objected to the simple gestures of appreciation. “I do not think most wives would have felt a little angry to know and hear her husband in an adjoining room on Sunday morning, drinking beer and kissing theatrical girls of his company,” he wrote in his memoirs. “I think they would have been rather proud of a husband who had six or seven months work with a party of people who were in his employ, to know and feel that they were on a kindly footing…. Not one of them got up and kissed papa goodbye, but all four of them rushed up and kissed papa, their old manager, goodbye.”7
The Codys made the trip from Omaha to their home in North Platte, Nebraska, with barely a word spoken between them. Both were occupied with their own thoughts. William was only nineteen when they had met, but he had already lived more life than most men twice his age. Louisa liked that about him, and although she would never readily admit it, she knew that was a big part of what drew other women to him as well.
William Frederick Cody was born on February 26, 1846, in Scott County, Iowa, near the little town of LeClaire. His parents, Isaac and Mary Ann, had seven children total, four girls and three boys. Isaac was an adventurer at heart and, in 1850, set out for California to take part in the Gold Rush. After hearing stories from prospectors returning from California about how difficult it was to find gold, Isaac decided against going west. He decided instead to relocate his family to a homestead near Fort Leavenworth, Kansas.
The first visit to the fort stirred a desire in Bill to travel and explore unsettled lands. “The Cavalry—or dragoons as they called them then,” William wrote in his autobiography, “were engaged in saber drills, their swords flashing in the sunlight. Artillery was rumbling over the parade ground. Infantry was marching and wheeling. About the Post were men dressed all in buckskin with coonskin caps or broad-brimmed slough hats—real Westerners of whom I had dreamed. Indians of all sorts were loafing about—all friendly, but a new and different kind of Indian from any I had seen. Kickapoos, Possawatomies, D
elawares, Choctaws, and other tribes of which I had often heard. Everything I saw fascinated me.”8
The pull to leave home and head west was great, but Mary Ann convinced the seven-year-old boy to content himself with life on a farm until he was a bit older. Life in the Salt Creek Valley wasn’t without excitement. Bill grew up in the midst of Indians and the wild life of the plains as well as in the very thick of the early fights that occurred between northerners and southerners over the question of slavery.
Isaac Cody took a firm stand against slavery and was persecuted for his position. Southern sympathizers threatened his life and that of his family if they didn’t leave Kansas. Isaac refused to go, and as a result his wife and children were forced to hide from groups sent to kill them. Bill, who was an expert with a gun by that time, thwarted an attempt by pro-slavery leaders to steal his prize pony and shoot his father. Isaac was stabbed shortly after the incident, however, and eventually died from the wound.
“I was only eleven years old,” William later wrote, “and the only man of the family. I made up my mind to be a bread winner.”9
Young William found work with the freighting company Russell, Majors and Waddell. He helped herd the extra cattle that followed the wagon trains en route to deliver supplies to soldiers in the field. The route originated in St. Joseph, Missouri, and ended in San Francisco. William was exposed to a life of danger as the train was often assaulted by Indians and outlaws. He frequently had to help defend the cargo, shooting it out with Cheyenne, Arapaho, and Sioux warriors or with highway robbers.
During his first trip with the company, he stopped an ambush by Indians encamped west of Fort Kearney near Plum Creek. William spotted the outline of an Indian and his headdress against the backdrop of a full moon. “I knew well enough that in another second he would drop one of my friends,” he remembered in his memoirs. “So I raised my Yaeger and fired. I saw the figure collapse, and heard it come tumbling thirty feet down the bank, landing with a splash in the water.” By the time the train returned to Fort Leavenworth, news of William’s exploits had reached his family, friends, and neighbors. A reporter with the Leavenworth Times interviewed the boy and published a story about him that proclaimed William Cody to be the “youngest Indian slayer on the plains.”