Wyatt Earp: The Life Behind the Legend

by Casey Tefertiller

  In Dodge, business still revolved around the cattle trade, and officers still faced the challenge of enforcing the law without inhibiting the franchise. Earp, Bat Masterson, and the other officers developed the not so gentle art of headbanging violators with a pistol. They called it "buffaloing," and it certainly provided a more reasonable means of law enforcement than trigger pulling. Dead drovers could not drink whiskey, contribute to the faro banks, or enjoy the company of those fine taxpaying women south of Front Street.

  Earp seemed to serve as the top field officer while Charlie Bassett took care of the office duties. Wyatt made more money than Bassett because city officials paid a bonus of $1 for every arrest and another dollar for every court appearance. Dodge City police records show Wyatt and policeman Jim Masterson, another of Bat's brothers, repeatedly making arrests for such offenses as carrying a pistol, drunk and disorderly behavior, and acting in an angry and violent manner. Preventive law enforcement was their means of avoiding problems. This may not jibe with today's approach, but it surely worked to keep troublemakers from acting up. The drovers came to understand quickly that they could enjoy any kind of sin they wished in Dodge City, but they could not cause trouble or they would wake up with a nasty headache and a fine from the police judge.

  Andy Adams, a young rider with a cattle drive, recalled an old-timer coming into camp one day near the end of a trail drive. The veteran cowman briefed the young drovers on the rules in Dodge City:

  I've been in Dodge every summer since '77, and I can give you boys some points. Dodge is one town where the average bad man of the West not only finds his equal but finds himself badly handicapped. The buffalo hunters and range men have protested against the iron rule of Dodge's peace officers, and nearly every protest has cost human life. Don't ever get the impression that you can ride your horses into a saloon, or shoot out the lights in Dodge; it may go somewhere else, but it don't go there. So I want to warn you to behave yourselves. You can wear your six-shooters into town, but you'd better leave them at the first place you stop, hotel, livery, or business house. And when you leave town, call for your pistols, but don't ride out shooting; omit that. Most cowboys think it's an infringement on their rights to give up shooting in town, and if it is, it stands, for your six-shooters are no match for Winchesters and buckshot; and Dodge's officers are as game a set of men as ever faced danger.47

  Adams, writing in 1903, followed this recollection by listing the names of Dodge City's most noteworthy law officers, including Earp, the Mastersons, and Doc Holliday, and then observing: "The puppets of no romance ever written can compare with these officers in fearlessness. And let it be understood there were plenty to protest against their rule; almost daily during the range season some equally fearless individual defied them."

  Earp met all challenges, without bloodshed and rarely by drawing a pistol. Always, he had that way about him of calmly taking charge of a situation and cooling tempers before they exploded. The Ford County Globe, which had complained about police inefficiency the previous summer, wrote on June 18, 1878, "Wyatt Earp is doing his duty as Ass't Marshal in a very creditable manner. - adding new laurels to his splendid record every day."

  By early June, Doc Holliday had arrived in Dodge, showing all indications of pursuing his hand-in-mouth profession. Holliday may have been a drinker, a gambler, and a shooter, but being a dentist had a priority in his life, and he always liked the job. On June 8, 1878, he took out an ad in the Dodge City Times:

  DENTISTRY

  J.H. Holliday, Dentist, very respectfully offers his professional services to the citizens of Dodge City and surrounding country during the summer. Office at room No. 24, Dodge House. Where satisfaction is not given money will be refunded.

  Earp and the dentist who offered refunds were little more than casual acquaintances when Doc and his lady friend Big-Nose Kate rolled into Dodge that spring. Earp later would say, without giving details, that Holliday saved his life. As the story can best be pieced together, in late August a Texas herder named Tobe Driskill, known to Earp in Wichita, and his partner, Ed Morrison, got drunk and started making trouble at the Comique Theatre on the south side. The drunken drovers tried to take possession of the bar when Earp and another officer entered and began pistol-whipping the Texans, clubbing wildly to take control of the saloon before the drovers took control of the whiskey. One of the Texans drew a gun and pointed at Earp's back. Holliday yelled, "Look out, Wyatt," then drew his gun and fired, most likely scaring the Texan enough to back off.48 This would mark the beginning of a strange and remarkable friendship between the quiet, unsmiling Earp and the volatile, puckish, and often drunken dentist with a bent toward danger.

  That summer of 1878 would be the most memorable of Earp's Kansas cowtown days. For the first and only time in Kansas, he may have drawn blood with his pistol. By late July the cattle season was in full swing, with the saloons serving all night and the drovers keeping the cash flowing. By three o'clock on the morning of July 26, the celebration was going full blast with the clicking, clattering poker chips in the gambling rooms and the songs from the stages. Eddie Foy called a square dance at the Commy-Kew, while Bat Masterson dealt Spanish monte in the corner, with Doc Holliday sitting in at his table. After a long night of drinking, one of the Texans apparently had an altercation with Earp and called on his pals for assistance after he left the theater. The drovers responded with a six-gun fusillade that perforated the theater with bullets. Holliday, Masterson, and everyone else in the Commy-Kew went stomach-to-floor instantly. "The firing kept up until it seemed to me that the assailants had put hundreds of shots through the building. They shot through walls as well as windows, for a big .45 bullet would penetrate those plank walls as if they were little more than paper," Foy recalled.

  The barrage of gunfire brought Earp and Jim Masterson running into the street. Earp arrived in time to make a lunge at one of the mounts, but his attempt to grab the tail missed. A couple of shots went in the direction of the marshals, and Earp, Masterson, and possibly several others returned fire. The Texans dashed over a bridge across the Arkansas, and one fell from his horse. A posse assembled, but the Texans had too much of a lead. All they found was young George Hoy lying on the ground, badly wounded in the arm. The men helped Hoy back to town as the denizens of the Commy-Kew checked for carnage. None killed, none wounded. Foy did suffer a casualty of his own: he had just purchased an $11 suit, and he left the coat hanging in his dressing room on that hot night. He found three bullet holes in the garment, one still smoldering from a ring of fire.49

  Badly injured, Hoy lingered on until August 27, when he died of his wounds. The Ford County Globe mourned his passing:

  George was apparently rather a good young man, having those chivalrous qualities, so common to frontiersmen, well developed. He was at the time of his death under a bond of $1,500 for his appearance in Texas on account of some cattle scrape, wherein he was charged with aiding and assisting some other men in "rounding up" about 1,000 head of cattle which were claimed by other parties. He had many friends and no enemies among Texas men who knew him. George was nothing but a poor cow boy, but his brother cow boys permitted him to want for nothing during his illness and buried him in grand style when dead, which was very creditable to them. We have been informed by those who pretend to know, that the deceased, although under bond for a misdemeanor in Texas, was in no wise a criminal, and would have been released at the next setting of the court if he had not been removed by death from its jurisdiction. "Let his faults, if he had any, be hidden in the grave."50

  There is no certainty whether it was the bullet of Earp, Jim Masterson, or some other unknown shooter that landed in George Hoy's right arm and led to his death. This was probably the first time, other than in the Indian raids when he was a boy, that Wyatt Earp shot at a man. He had always found other ways to deal with troublemakers, usually more often garrulous drunks than criminals. This time, he fired in what he considered self-defense. The shooting had an unexpected sid
e effect-for the first time Earp's name appeared in a national publication. The National Police Gazette, which emphasized the more sensational stories, found the cowtown shooting just perfect to titillate the folks back east:

  Wyatt Erpe, a good fellow and brave officer, had an altercation with a "cow-boy," when the latter getting worsted, went for assistance and revenge, which was obtained from a number of mounted Texans who rode by a variety hall ... and fired a volley into the hall, which is a frame "frontier theatre," and was beautifully perforated with bullets. At the time of the firing a banjoist was giving his performance on the stage, and a number of girls and men were seated in front and in the boxes. The audience was thrown into considerable consternation at this unexpected episode in the performance, but numerous six-shooters were promptly drawn and the fire of the "cow-boys" was vigorously returned from the windows, one at least of the attacking party falling from his horse as the result.... The only reason for the attack on their hall was a reckless whim on the part of the "cow-boys."51

  Just past his thirtieth birthday, Wyatt Earp had a touch of national praise and attention. This would not be the last time Eastern readers would find his name in print.

  Wyatt Earp would come to believe Hoy's attack had really been an attempt on his life, paid for by Bob Wright, the town's leading merchant, a political boss and a representative in the Kansas state legislature. Earp said the feud started when he arrested Bob Rachals, a prominent trail leader who drunkenly shot at a German fiddler. Wright tried to block Rachals's arrest rather than anger the cattle boss, who was one of the top financial contributors to the Dodge economy. Wright even threatened to have Earp thrown off the force. Earp refused to free Rachals and threw Wright in jail as well. The papers never covered the story; Dodge City's newspapers missed much of what occurred and were not eager to embarrass the most influential man in town. There is little confirmation52 beyond Earp's statements, and the supposition initially sounds like paranoia until further analyzed. Earp's action in jailing Wright is entirely in character-he did something similar in another dusty town two years later, and he never put great stock in authorities who interfered with the law. Earp had been vigorous in pistolwhipping the Texans, and his often arrogant manner could well have irritated Wright to the point of at least trying to scare the assistant marshal out of town. It was often the pattern in these cowtowns to bring on the tough lawman, then drive him away before he got in the way of business. Wright may well have quietly tried to do this on his own without involving the city council.

  As Earp told it, the next attempt on his life came when notorious Texas gunman Clay Allison arrived, probably in early September, shortly after Hoy's death.53 Allison owned a reputation as a killer, making him just the right man to come and throw a scare into an overeager assistant marshal. It did not quite work out that way. Earp said Allison arrived in town and behaved well for the first day, but the next morning a policeman came and awakened Wyatt with the word that Allison carried two six-shooters and was making threats against him. Earp picked up his guns and located Bat Masterson, who retrieved a shotgun he kept at the district attorney's office, near Wright's store. Masterson stayed across the street, hiding the weapon and appearing unconcerned. Other Earp allies stood casually in doorways, guns at the ready. Earp began his search of the saloons, first heading into Ab Webster's place. When he came out, he stepped face to face with Clay Allison, perhaps the most dangerous gun-thrower of the frontier. They greeted each other, then leaned against the wall, calmly measuring each other with sideways glances. Most onlookers might have taken it for a casual chat between old friends.

  Finally Allison said, "So, you're the man that killed my friend Hoy." Earp responded: "Yes, I guess I'm the man you're looking for." Earp had a firm grasp on a pistol in his pocket as he watched Allison's hand slowly reach toward his pistol pocket. The deputy planned to use his left hand to grab Allison's gun if he drew. Allison studied the situation, saw Masterson, and said, "I guess I'll go around the corner."

  "I guess you better," Earp replied, then watched the gunman turn the corner. From across the street, Masterson could see that a dozen tough Texans had assembled, armed with Winchesters, to cover Allison's retreat. Earp turned the corner but saw Masterson's signal to keep out of range. Earp stepped back as Allison rode up on horseback.

  "Come over here, Wyatt, I want to talk to you," Allison called.

  "I can hear you all right here," Earp replied. "I think you came here to make a fight with me, and if you did you can have it right now."

  Wright came running down the street. Apparently he had changed his mind about having Allison challenge Earp because Masterson, shotgun in hand, had quietly told him, "If this fight comes up, Wright, you're the first man I'm going to kill." Wright decided he would rather call off Allison than find himself ventilated with buckshot.

  "Well, I don't like you any too well," Allison said to Wright. "There were a lot of your friends to be here this morning to help me out, but I don't see them round now." Allison then turned to Earp and raised his voice. "Earp, I believe you're a pretty good man from what I've seen of you. Do you know that these coyotes sent for me to make a fight with you and kill you? Well, I'm going to ride out of town, and I wish you good luck."

  The incident ended as little more than a conversation on the street, with ominous undertones. Allison could quickly recognize that Masterson would never have let him leave town with all his body parts intact had the gunman made a play against Earp. Wright had not provided the promised backup, and cocksure Bat Masterson was just crazy enough to kill Allison despite the Winchester-toting Texans.

  Earp said Allison returned ten days later and sent a messenger to town asking Earp's permission to come into town and attend to business regarding his cattle. Earp welcomed him, and Allison behaved. "It was a fourteen days' wonder, for Allison had never in his life before conducted himself like a Christian," Earp said. "Indeed, it had been his practice to force every store, saloon, and bank other than those he patronized to close up during such time as he honored a frontier town with a visit."54

  The local papers noted only that Clay Allison passed through town on his return from East St. Louis. The Dodge papers were not about to accuse Bob Wright of conspiring to murder, and the incident itself happened so quietly it could have gone unnoticed by most townsmen. It had all been typical Earp/ Masterson law enforcement-one worked as the point man while the other served as backup, providing the real force. Earp may have been brave, but he was not stupid enough to go up against Clay Allison without the threat of guns behind him to throw a scare into a potential adversary. It was a pattern he would repeat. As for Wright's murder plot, it seems probable that the legislator thought he could scare Earp out of town with little fuss. The rumor that Clay Allison was packing guns and backed by Texans would be enough to drive most sane marshals out of town on the fastest horse in the stable. Instead, Earp handled the situation quietly, backed by the shotgun-toting Masterson. Earp said Wright came to him to apologize and told of his conspiracies with Hoy and Allison. Eventually they grew to be friends of sorts.

  Days after the episode, Masterson picked up the shotgun he had held ready to blast Allison and the Texans and went out for a little target practice. Much to his surprise he found the gun contained not buckshot, but a load of fine birdshot that would have done little more than sting the drovers. Apparently, someone had borrowed the gun for hunting and left it loaded when it was returned. Bat grumbled about the shotgun, "It would have been a shame if a good man's life had depended on the charge in that gun."55

  The cattle season slowed as winter approached, with fewer herds crossing Indian Territory to the shipping point at Dodge. Bassett, Earp, and Jim Masterson made only four arrests in three weeks as Dodge City settled into its winter stupor by early October. It had been an eventful summer, with Deputy U.S. Marshal H. T. McCarty shot and killed in the Long Branch saloon in July, the Hoy incident a couple of weeks later, and the flight of Dull Knife and a small band of Cheyenne f
rom the reservation. Winter usually turned wild Dodge into a peaceful village for a few months before the herds would again come bellowing north after the spring thaw.

  One drover had had more than his share of trouble in Dodge during the summer and fall of that year. Darkly handsome Jim Kenedy came north with the herds, but he was no common cowboy. Called Spike by his Texas pals, he was the son of Captain Mifflin Kenedy, one of the wealthiest and most respected ranchers in Texas and the owner of the large Rancho de Los Laureles in Nueces County. Young Spike loved the wild life of saloons and brothels, and he already had had run-ins with the law. In 1872 he lost money to Texas cattleman I. P. "Print" Olive in a saloon card game in Ellsworth, then accused Olive of cheating. Kenedy challenged the unarmed Olive, who remained calm in the tense situation. Frustrated, Kenedy left, but later that afternoon entered the Ellsworth Billiard Saloon, where Olive was again playing cards. Kenedy grabbed a pistol from a gun rack at the bar and turned loose on Olive, hitting him in the hand, groin, and thigh. Jim Kelly, an African American cowhand working for Olive, dashed into the saloon and shot Kenedy in the leg. Police arrested Kenedy, but he escaped with the help of friends, leaving Ellsworth in the dark of night.56