Butch Cassidy

by W. C. Jameson

  Following the payroll robbery, the two bandits, initially identified as North Americans, allegedly rode into the town of Tupiza, where word of the holdup had already arrived. Soon after unpacking their gear, the strangers discovered the townspeople suspected them of taking the payroll. Hastily, they repacked and fled during the night, apparently bound for the town of Uyuni, located some ninety miles to the northwest.

  Three days later, on November 7, according to most reports, two North Americans—believed by many to be the same ones who conducted the Aramayo payroll robbery, rode into the small Indian village of San Vicente. San Vicente is located approximately midway between Tupiza and Uyuni. By the time the strangers arrived, they had apparently ridden a long distance and were in search of a meal and a place to spend the night. The village of San Vicente was small, and there were few choices. The newcomers finally settled in a room at the police station, which also served as an inn.

  While the two men were dining on beer and tinned sardines inside the room, a local constable happened to pass by. As he was examining the mules the strangers rode, he noticed that one bore the brand of the Aramayo mines. The constable was also convinced the animal was the same one placed in the charge of a friend of his named Gil Gonzalez, a man who was in the employ of Carlos Peró. Peró was employed as a manager at the Aramayo mines and on the day of the robbery served as the chief courier in charge of the payroll shipment. The constable had earlier learned of the Aramayo robbery, and his instincts suggested to him that these men had something to do with it. He sent a runner to a nearby encampment of Bolivian troops advising them of his suspicions.

  The generally accepted legend regarding the payroll robbery and the subsequent alleged shootout with authorities, the one that has been popularized via film, television, and novel, can be traced to the florid writings of Arthur Chapman in the April 1930 issue of Elks Magazine. In Chapman’s version of the event, the captain of the Bolivian soldiers led his command to the police station and ordered his troops to surround the building. Then, with drawn revolver, he walked into the room of the two strangers, both of whom were allegedly drunk, and called for them to surrender. One of the strangers, whom Chapman identifies as Butch Cassidy, drew a pistol and shot the captain. Seconds later, the cavalry, now led by a sergeant, swarmed through the gate to the courtyard adjacent to the room. As the soldiers filled the courtyard, the strangers began firing from the room, killing more of the soldiers with the initial fusillade. The two Americans kept up their fire, according to Chapman, eventually killing several more soldiers and wounding many others. “Blood was settling in little pools about the courtyard,” wrote Chapman. The Bolivian soldiers then took shelter behind the courtyard wall and commenced firing into the room, bullets thunking into the thick adobe walls of the building.

  At one point during the gun battle, one of the strangers, whom Chapman identified as Harry Longabaugh, decided to dash into the courtyard and retrieve some rifles and ammunition apparently left there earlier. In Chapman’s narrative, the Sundance Kid, firing his pistol, jumped over the bodies of the dead and wounded soldiers toward the rifles. Before he reached the arms, however, he was cut down by Bolivian bullets, hit at least seven times. The man had almost reached the rifles when he fell to the ground, seriously wounded. At this point, the other stranger rushed from the room and ran to the side of his fallen companion. With bullets striking all around him, and several thudding into his body, he hoisted the fallen man over his shoulder and ran back to the safety of the room.

  Chapman continues, “Once inside, the rescuer saw that his friend was mortally wounded. Checking his pistols, he noted that he only had a few bullets left. Realizing it was hopeless to try to retrieve the guns and ammunition outside in the courtyard, the stranger sat back and pondered his fate.”

  Around 10:00 p.m. that evening, the Bolivian soldiers heard two shots fired from within the room, and then silence. Throughout the night, the soldiers fired sporadically through the windows and doors.

  The following morning, the Bolivian troops maintained their vigil, shooting occasionally into the room. At noon, says Chapman, an officer, backed by several soldiers, rushed across the courtyard and into the room. To his surprise, the officer found the two men dead, apparently by their own hand. The man who ran into the courtyard to retrieve the rifles had a mortal wound through his head, seemingly killed by his companion. The other, according to the officer, was apparently a suicide.

  On inspecting the belongings of the strangers, the soldiers found what was identified as the Aramayo mine payroll money. In addition, the soldiers also found some gold they believed was taken during the Bolivian Railway robbery.

  So wrote Arthur Chapman some twenty-two years after the actual event. The source of most of Chapman’s information was, interestingly, Cassidy’s close friend, Percy Seibert.

  Spurred by Chapman’s article, numerous investigations into what had come to be called the “San Vicente shootout” were undertaken over the years. The resulting research has yielded several different versions of the gun battle, with most of them conflicting and contradictory.

  As a result of the dogged and tenacious research efforts of Ann Meadows and her husband, Dan Buck, quite a bit more has been learned about the South American adventures of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, as well as the circumstances of the Aramayo payroll robbery and the so-called shootout in San Vicente. Though a great deal has been learned, and Meadows and Buck must be lauded for their efforts, no clear, indisputable accounting of the fate of Cassidy and Longabaugh has been forthcoming. As a result of contradictory, conflicting, careless, and erroneous reporting and testimony, there remains no obvious and explicit distinction between fact and fiction. The truth exists somewhere among the records and documents, but it is muddied and difficult to discern.

  During her research, Meadows located some correspondence by a number of eyewitnesses to the so-called shootout, as well as missives from Carlos Peró, the Aramayo mines manager and the leader of the small group that was escorting the payroll that was robbed.

  According to Peró, who was accompanied by his son, Mariano, and his servant, a man named Gonzalez, two North American bandits stole fifteen thousand bolivianos along with a mule. A description of the bandits accompanied Peró’s information: one was described as heavyset and pleasant, the other of medium weight. They both wore “new, dark-red, thin-wale corduroy suits with narrow, soft-brimmed hats.”

  Elsewhere, information was discovered that contained a description of one of the bandits as thin and of average build, the other taller and heavyset. Already, contradictory evidence was surfacing, and it would only get worse.

  There exists a general consensus that, on November 7, two men arrived at the small village of San Vicente and were soon afterward identified as the potential payroll robbers. The only bases for this identification appears to be as follows: (1) at least one of the recent arrivals, and possibly both, appeared to be North Americans; and (2) they were strangers, unknown to any in town.

  It was also learned by Meadows that only a police inspector, a San Vicente citizen, and two soldiers went to visit the strangers at their temporary residence—a total of four men, not a company of Bolivian troops, as had been related by Chapman and reported by others.

  Furthermore, Meadows uncovered written recollections that stated no rifles and ammunition had been left in the patio by the strangers. The two men were, in fact, well armed inside their room and carried plenty of ammunition on their persons.

  According to the information acquired, the four San Vicenteanos stationed themselves outside of the room. One, a soldier, approached the open doorway only to be fired upon by one of the strangers—allegedly Butch Cassidy. Once hit, the soldier fell to the ground and then struggled to his feet, turned, and fled. He died several minutes later at a nearby home. At this point, the San Vicente citizen decided to leave the scene and go home, and the two men remaining chose to stand guard over the room throughout the night.

  The
San Vicenteano who went home said he later heard “three screams of desperation,” apparently coming from inside the room, and then silence. The next morning at six, according to some research, men entered the room and found the inhabitants dead, the “smaller stretched out on the floor dead with one bullet in the temple and another in the arm.” The taller bandit, the one presumed by some to be the Sundance Kid, was, in death, hugging a large ceramic jug that was in the room. He had a bullet wound in the forehead and several more in his arms. Both men, according to one witness, still had their guns in their hands. Another witness claimed the taller bandit also had several bullet wounds in the chest. Following a search of the room and the belongings of the dead men, the Aramayo payroll was allegedly recovered, as well as a map of the area marked with an escape route.

  Another witness stated the tall gringo was dressed in a brown cashmere suit, grey hat, red gaiters, and an ammunition belt, and carried a gold watch, a dagger, and a silk handkerchief. The shorter man wore a yellow cashmere suit, red gaiters, and a cartridge belt and had in his possession a silver watch and a blue silk handkerchief.

  Both men were described as blond and unshaven with turned-up noses, the small one “ugly,” the other good looking. In addition to the Aramayo mine payroll, their parcels contained an abundance of silk handkerchiefs. Some researchers have used the presence of the many silk handkerchiefs as evidence that one of the men was indeed Harry Longabaugh, who was believed to suffer from catarrh, an inflammation of the mucous membranes.

  Percy Seibert, on learning of the deaths of the two men at San Vicente, stated without hesitation that they were, indeed, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. There is no evidence, however, that Seibert traveled to San Vicente and examined the bodies. Seibert told Chapman he was convinced Butch Cassidy shot Longabaugh in the head and then killed himself.

  Later that day, the bodies of the two strangers were allegedly taken to the San Vicente Indian cemetery and buried in unmarked graves. According to Meadows’s research, the two bodies were interred between a German miner who blew himself up while thawing out some dynamite on a stove and a Swedish prospector who accidentally shot himself while dismounting from a mule.

  There, in that windswept and poor cemetery, according to Chapman, lay the remains of two of America’s most famous outlaws, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.

  When Meadows traveled to South America to try to learn the truth of the San Vicente shootout and burial, her efforts yielded a wealth of information heretofore unknown outside of the region. The information, consisting of documents, records, letters, personal recollections, and vignettes, provided new insight and material for study as it related to the South American activities of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. It can also be effectively argued that Meadows’s research contributed more to the confusion and contradiction that surrounds Cassidy’s alleged participation in the robbery and subsequent death in San Vicente than it did to eliminate it.

  Fourteen

  The San Vicente Incident Revisited

  Much of what most people know, or think they know, about the fate of outlaw Butch Cassidy is derived from Arthur Chapman’s 1930 description of the so-called San Vicente shootout. This article formed the basis of numerous subsequent treatments on Cassidy and his partner, and solidified in the minds of many the legend of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, along with their heroic yet ill fated confrontation with the Bolivian army.

  A review of pertinent documents, however, suggests that something entirely different occurred, something quite contrary to the popular perception of the aforementioned South American events. Furthermore, the more one examines records of the time and region, the more one comes away impressed and dismayed with the overwhelming amount of conflicting and contradictory testimony, as well as a profusion of confusion relative to who, in truth, committed the payroll robbery, what actually happened at San Vicente, who was killed there, and who was buried in the San Vicente cemetery. With regard to each of the above, the identity of the participants has always remained in question. They are as much in question today as they were then.

  It would be appropriate, therefore, to examine closely the circumstances surrounding the robbery of the Aramayo mine payroll, the incident at San Vicente, and the burial of the two victims who many believe were Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.

  The Robbery

  According to various bits and pieces of information coming mostly from his own testimony, Carlos Peró, in the company of his son and a servant named Gil Gonzalez, was transporting the Aramayo payroll from Uyuni to Tupiza when he was held up on the road near Salo, located just north of Tupiza. Peró, one of the principals in the robbery and the official in charge at the time, was a man who, logically, would have and should have known as much or more about what transpired than anyone else, save for the robbers themselves.

  Peró identified the bandits as Yankees who were hiding behind rocks a short distance off the trail. In one account, Peró refers to the bandits as “wearing masks.” However, according to Richard Patterson in Butch Cassidy: A Biography, in a subsequent letter Peró says they were wearing bandannas. Some believe “masks” and “bandannas” are synonymous, but they are not; they are quite different. Perhaps Peró misspoke. One may grant that he was unaware of the difference, but that is not likely. In any event, with hats pulled low over their heads and the lower portions of their faces apparently well covered with bandannas (or other parts of their faces hidden by masks), all Peró likely saw of the two robbers were their eyes.

  Peró also said the robbers were carrying rifles cocked and ready to fire. Yet, in another report, Peró contradicts himself by saying one was unarmed.

  Peró described the bandits as pleasant and well mannered. After taking the money, according to Peró, they tied up the three Bolivians and left with the payroll money, one dark mule, and a new hemp rope. Yet another report stated the Bolivians were not bound at all.

  The bandits departed the scene of the robbery on foot, leading the mule. After freeing themselves (assuming they were ever tied to begin with), Peró, according to one report, walked to Cotani, where he sent a message about the robbery to officials at the Aramayo mines. An article in an Oruro newspaper called La Prensa, however, stated Peró hurried back to Uyuni to report the incident. Perhaps he did both.

  From Ann Meadows’s Digging Up Butch and Sundance, Peró is on record as stating the “two Yankees wore new, dark-red, thin-wale corduroy suits with narrow, soft-brimmed hats, the brims turned down in such as way that, with the bandannas tied behind their ears, only their eyes could be seen.” One of the bandits was “thin and of normal stature,” while the other was “heavyset and taller.” Peró also said the robbery took place at 9:15 in the morning on November 4, 1908.

  The Shootout

  According to an eyewitness named Remigio Sanchez, two gringos arrived in San Vicente on November 7 from the east, one riding “a dark brown and the other on a solid black mule” (in Patterson’s Butch Cassidy: A Biography). According to Sanchez, the “tall gringo was dressed in a light-brown cashmere suit, a grey hat, red gaiters, a belt with about twenty-eight bullets, a gold watch, a dagger, and a silk handkerchief. The smaller one wore a yellow suit, apparently cashmere, red gaiters, [and] a grey hat. . . . Both were unshaven blondes.”

  If the two men who rode into San Vicente were the same ones who robbed the Aramayo payroll three days earlier, they must have changed their suits. This is a possibility assuming they were transporting a change of clothes in their saddlebags. On the other hand, for two bandits on the run and traveling light, this seems somewhat improbable.

  Furthermore, it seems odd that payroll-robbing bandits on the run, traveling back roads, and living in the woods, would be dressed in rather expensive cashmere clothes and wearing gaiters. Garments made of cashmere were normally reserved for special and formal occasions such as cotillions and corporate meetings, not riding on mules along the poor and dusty back roads of the Bolivian countryside.

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p; According to Sanchez, the two men, after arriving in San Vicente, asked him about lodging, and he referred them at once to the residence of Bonifacio Casasolo. The residence was part of the local police station and also served as an inn when necessary, a not uncommon association in small South American towns where travelers were concerned about their possessions.

  The two strangers were provided a room that opened onto a small courtyard surrounded by an adobe wall. A short time later, “the police inspector, with two soldiers and the corregidor,” arrived at the room to learn the identities of the two newcomers. According to Sanchez, one of the four men, a soldier, passed though a gate, entered the courtyard, and approached the room in which the newcomers were eating and drinking. Suddenly, the smaller of the two, identified by some as Butch Cassidy, “appeared and fired one shot and then another.” The soldier was struck and ran screaming to a nearby house, where he expired.

  A somewhat different version of the encounter was described in an article in La Prensa, which stated that a “posse of policemen” caught up with the bandits at San Vicente. On seeing the policemen, according to the article, the bandits drew their pistols and “unleashed a veritable hail of bullets at their pursuers, who answered with a blaze of fire as if hunting wild animals.” The gun battle was described as “intense . . . a tremendous din and the furious shouting of the bandits and the police were all that could be heard” (Patterson’s Butch Cassidy: A Biography). The gun battle, according to the article, lasted for more than an hour, with the two bandits being killed, “their bodies riddled with bullets.”