Wyatt Earp: The Life Behind the Legend

by Casey Tefertiller

  I learned one thing about him, and that was that he would not lie to me. What he told me he believed, and his word to me was better than the oaths of some of whom were known as good citizens.61

  The bizarre sight of Behan's deputy riding around the backcountry with the most noted desperado in the territory could not have been comfortable to the honest ranchers in the area, and undoubtedly it cut into Behan's public support in the community. But it did raise the tax revenue, with Behan getting a percentage. And money always mattered to Johnny Behan. For Curley Bill, death and taxes had become his business.

  As with many badmen, Curley Bill had a charm about him that seemed to win friends. Emma Muir recalled the rustler from her childhood in the New Mexico mining town of Shakespeare. She described him as more than six feet tall and of massive bulk, with a heavy beard, and often wearing a red tie. When he got drunk, which was often, he would shoot quarters from between the fingers of anyone willing to hold the target. Most were willing, because few would risk becoming the victim of his temper. Bill had a reputation to match his temper, with the locals believing he had recorded many kills. Despite all this, Muir and her family liked Curley Bill.

  "Desperadoes, when not working at their business, were like anybody else, considerate, honorable, good neighbors," Muir wrote. "I remember the first time I met Curly Bill. . . . Only Mother, my sister and I were at home. Someone knocked at the door. Mother opened it. There stood Curly Bill. We knew him by sight, but had never been so close to him. He had at that time incurred the wrath of Shakespeare, which had added to the price on his head. But that did not bother mother. She just saw a stranger at the door, and supper was ready."

  Emma's mother greeted the outlaw by saying, "Good evening. You're just in time. Emma, lay another plate."

  Bill responded cordially. "Thanks, ma'am, but somebody might see me here and it would go hard with you. I have a clean flour sack and I would shore appreciate it if you put some of those biscuits in it. I haven't any money now, but I'll drop by some time and pay you."

  She declined the offer for payment and filled a flour sack with biscuits, a package of Arbuckle's coffee, and a large piece of steak, carefully wrapped in paper. As they filled the sack, the outlaw went over to inspect an Estey organ the family had brought from Virginia City. "That," he said, "is the first organ I have seen since I left home, where my mother had one. She used to play it and sing to us kids. Never thought I'd do this sort of thing then. Well, ma'am, thanks. And don't tell anyone I was here, please."62

  Tom Thornton, the Galeyville hotelkeeper who catered to cowboys, blamed most of Curley Bill's reputation on bad press. "You newspaper men have given him an undeserved notoriety. He ain't half as bad as you paper writers have made him out to be," he told the San Francieco Examiner. "Curly Bill is a bad man when he gets riled up, but he is neither a robber nor a murderer.... The worst trick I ever knew him to do was to go into a restaurant once, while the people were at dinner. He was drunk and pulled out his two revolvers and laid them beside his plate, and ordered every one at the tables to wait until he was through as it was ungentlemanly and impolite to rise before all had finished their meal. Of course, everybody in the restaurant sat and waited until Bill got done eating, but he was so 'full' he laid down his head upon his arms and fell asleep, and the folks were so afraid of him that they supposed he was just shamming sleep so as to get a chance to shoot the first one who rose from the table. They all waited until he awoke, when he paid the bill [for everyone in the crowd] and left.

  "Another time Bill came into my place of business," Thornton continued. "I saw that Bill was drinking, and, of course, said nothing to annoy him. He seemed to be annoyed at my lamps and said, 'Tom, ain't your lights a little too bright. They hurt my eyes some. Shall I put out some?' I told him he might put out one, just to satisfy him. He then pulled out a pistol and shot the light out without breaking the lamp. He then went out and shot out as many lights as he imagined gave him offense."63

  Curley Bill had become a pain in the neck for the local constabulary, and in May he had more than a pain in his own neck. Thornton said the hard feelings began because Curley Bill jokingly shot the horse of his partner, Jim Wallace, and rode into town while his rustling buddy had to walk. On May 19, Curley Bill, Wallace, and eight or nine of their pals were drinking in Galeyville when Breakenridge rode into the little mining town in the mountains of southeastern Arizona. Galeyville sat in a small valley between two sharply rising peaks, with mines scattered up and down both sides and a few stores near the bottom. The small saloon district sat on a flat outcropping on the bank of Turkey Creek, facing the magnificent rise of a mountain across the trickle of a stream. The village had boomed quickly in late '80, and its residents included a woman blacksmith named Mrs. M. E. Harrington.

  When Deputy Sheriff Breakenridge entered the bar, Wallace pulled his revolver and yelled out an insult, according to a published report. The deputy paid little attention and quietly left the saloon. Curley Bill, clearly a friend of Breakenridge's, ordered Wallace to go find the deputy and apologize. Wallace did as told and brought Breakenridge back to the saloon to find Curley Bill in a quarrelsome mood. Bill laid into Wallace, ending with, "You damned Lincoln County son of a bitch, I'll kill you anyhow." Wallace started toward the door of the saloon with Bill in close pursuit. Just as they stepped out the door, Wallace turned and fired his pistol, the ball entering the left side of Bill's neck and crashing out through his right cheek, breaking his jawbone.

  From all directions miners and residents came running. Curley Bill's friends threatened a lynching, while the law-abiding sorts stood in the background, willing to let the outlaws go to war among themselves. Breakenridge stepped in and arrested the shooter, preventing further bloodshed on the streets of Galeyville. After a brief hearing, Wallace was discharged. The cowboys carried Curley Bill to a nearby house, believing him close to death. A doctor arrived and said the wounds were "dangerous, but not necessarily fatal," with about a 50-50 chance of recovery.

  The Arizona Star provided the comment, "A great many people in southeastern Arizona will regret that the termination was not fatal to one or both of the participants. Although the wound is considered very dangerous, congratulations at being freed from this dangerous character are now rather premature, as men of his class usually have a wonderful tenacity of life."64

  Thornton, the cowboys' pal, claimed to care for the injured outlaw for the next two months. "He was shot clean through the head, and it seemed almost impossible for him to live through it. He says he just lived so that he could kill his cowardly partner." When asked in October if Bill had met up with Wallace, Thornton answered, "Not yet, but they will and when they do someone will drop, for Bill will surely kill him on sight. I would advise him to keep out of Bill's tracks, but he is likely to run across him some day."

  Before the outlaw had recovered enough to stir up more trouble, he was in the news again when time ran out on Tom Harper. Harper had been convicted of the 1880 murder of an unarmed John Talliday, described as an old man, in a dispute over money. On July 8, all Harper's appeals ended. Under Pima County sheriff Bob Paul's order, he dropped through the gallows floor, dying on the end of a rope. His last message had been directed to his friend, Curley Bill, telling him: "Curley, you are aware that I am not in the habit of lecturing any man, but in this case you may remember the words of a dying man (for I am all to intents and purposes such), and perhaps give heed to them.... Curley, I want you to take warning by me. Do not be too handy with a pistol. Keep cool and never fire at a man unless in the actual defense of your life. You must stand a heap from a man before you kill him. Words do not hurt, so you must never mind what is said to aggravate you. As I said before, don't try and hunt a row. Give my kind regards to any of my old friends who you may chance to meet, and tell them to take a warning by me. I bear no ill will, and I think I am going to die in peace. Hoping you will take heed of what I write, I am, as ever, your unfortunate friend. THOMAS HARPER"65

&
nbsp; Curley Bill had been forewarned, but the warning was ignored. As soon as he recovered, he rode out to cause more trouble. His wound and the wisdom of avoiding a tangle with Marshal Virgil Earp kept him away from Tombstone for most of '81. Much happened during those months.

  Fate had finally favored Wyatt Earp in January of 1881. His mining ventures had just sold for a goodly sum of money, and he and his brothers had other promising sites just waiting to be picked up. It would not be long before Johnny Behan officially received the appointment as sheriff for the new county, which they had agreed would give Earp the job of undersheriff. Earp had always preferred enforcement to the mundane duties of tax collecting. From the beginning, he had shown a keen interest in accumulating money; building a significant stake that would allow him and Mattie some degree of future independence. With just about everything else going right in his life, another opportunity found Wyatt Earp.

  Shortly after the Johnny-Behind-the-Deuce affair, he went into partnership with Lou Rickabaugh in the gambling concession at the Oriental Saloon. Earp would be a good man to have at hand if there was trouble at the most spectacular saloon and gambling palace in the region. "The 'Oriental' is simply gorgeous and is pronounced the finest place of its kind this side of San Francisco," correspondent Clara Brown wrote back to the San Dtego Union. "Every evening music from a piano and a violin attracts a crowd; and the scene is really a gay one-but for all the men. To be sure, there are frequent dances, which I have heard called 'respectable,' but as long as so many members of the demimonde, who are very numerous and very showy here, patronize them, many honest women will hesitate to attend."66

  While Clara Brown and the other respectable Easterners may have been put off by the demimonde, other residents found the saloon life downright respectable. Wyatt Earp had always been as much a gambler as a lawman, and gamblers enjoyed a respect above that accorded some other classes. The Arizona Star editorialized: "The profession of gamblers is as honorable as the members of any stock-exchange in the world-and braver. Their word is as good as their bond."67 In the West, this was not a job that came with an apology, and Wyatt Earp always took pride in his position as a gambling professional. Nearly fortyfive years later, when asked what he did in Tombstone other than wear a badge, he answered, "Well, I dealt awhile in pasteboard and ivory," his way of saying he ran a faro bank.68 Earp and the majority of his frontier neighbors considered this a legitimate enterprise.

  The Oriental's gambling room provided an atmosphere unequaled in the wilds of Arizona, and after its doors opened other gambling parlors noticed a falloff in business. According to Stuart Lake, John Tyler, Doc Holliday's old adversary, had been hired by a rival gambling operator to make trouble at the Oriental to try to keep patrons away. Earp offered some confirmation when he said in 1896: "Then the proprietors of 'the Oriental,' the biggest gambling-house in town, offered to take me into partnership. One of them-his name was Rickabaugh and he was a San Francisco man-was unpopular, and a coterie of the tough gamblers were trying to run the firm out of town."69

  Owner Jim Vizina rented the Oriental's bar and restaurant to Milt Joyce, with the gambling room going to a small group of San Francisco gamblers headed by Lou Rickabaugh and including William Crownover Parker Jr., a 19year-old whose wealthy father financed the investment. Also in the partnership was Bill Harris from Dodge City. They agreed to sell Earp a quarter interestprobably at a greatly reduced price-for his presence as an enforcer. Tyler showed up to cause problems shortly after Earp joined the partnership. Tyler purchased $100 worth of chips and sat in at Rickabaugh's faro table. The basic idea of the game is to place a bet on any of the thirteen ranks of cards on the layout. Two cards are drawn, one called the winner and the other the loser. Stakes are paid to those who hit the proper card. Tyler put his money on the queen, and Lake described what followed:

  "Deal 'em, you big so-and-so," he challenged, "and if the queen loses, I'll blow that stack into your bank!"

  Rickabaugh filled the dealer's slot to overflowing and a shot that scattered the stack of chips would send the forty-five caliber slug tearing through his body. Lou looked the gunman in the eye and made a turn. The queen did not show.

  Johnny Tyler screamed with pain. A muscular thumb and forefinger was hoisting him from his seat by an ear-lobe. If he had an idea of gunplay, he abandoned it when he saw who had him.

  "I didn't know you had an interest in this place," Tyler exclaimed.

  "I have," Wyatt Earp assured him, "and you can tell your friends it's the fighting interest."

  Using the ear as a lever, Wyatt propelled Tyler to the door. With a shove and a boot he sent the gunman sprawling into Allen Street. As he turned back into the Oriental, Wyatt saw Tyler's followers lined up at the bar, hands in the air, and looking into Doc Holliday's nickel-plated six-gun.

  "Much obliged, Doc," Wyatt said. "Herd 'em outside with their friend."70

  There is no confirmation that any such incident happened. It was not the type of event that would have been reported in the newspapers-sore ears did not make big news in Tombstone. And Lake often blew up little stories into major confrontations. But after Earp became a part owner in the gambling operation, trouble quieted down at the Oriental. Newspaper stories later refer to Tyler sitting in on big poker games at other gambling dens, but the attempt to stop business at the Oriental seemed to end with one act by Earp. The grand gambling salon would become a tough place for intimidators as Bat Masterson and Luke Short moved down from Dodge to work as dealers and provide two more competent gunhands. With Short, Masterson, and the Earps cruising the area, the Oriental would be the wrong place to cause trouble. A gambler named Charlie Storms found that out on February 25 when he drunkenly engaged in a heated argument with Short. Just as they drew their guns, Masterson jumped between them to prevent bloodshed. Bat then took Storms back to his room at the San Jose House and returned to try to calm Short, but Storms returned and started to draw. Short beat him.7' Parsons recorded the details:

  Quite peaceable times lately, but today the monotony was broken by the shooting of Charles Storms by Luke Short on corner of Oriental. Shots-the first two were so deliberate I didn't think anything much was out of the way, but the next shot I seized hat and ran out into the street just in time to see Storms die, shot through the heart.

  Both gamblers, L.S. running game at Oriental. Trouble brewing during night and morning, and S. was probable aggressor though very drunk. He was game to the last and after being shot through the heart, by a desperate effort (steadying revolver with both hands) fired four shots in all, I believe. Doc Goodfellow brought bullet into my room and showed it to me-45 calibre and slightly flattened; also showed a bloody handkerchief, part of which was carried into wound by pistol.

  Short, very unconcerned after shooting-probably a case of kill or be killed. Played Abbott in chess tonight. Forgot to say that the faro games went right on as though nothing had happened after body was carried to Storms' room at the San Jose House.

  Storms died in his room. All Bat Masterson's efforts to prevent a killing between two of his friends had failed, and a gambler lost the draw and his life. Masterson's testimony led to Short's acquittal as the court ruled self-defense.

  All through January and into February, Wyatt Earp dealt faro and waited for Behan to deliver on his promise to name him undersheriff for the new county. Up in the territorial capital of Prescott, the representatives squabbled and argued over the details of carving up Pima. Nugget editor Harry M. Woods led the effort to form a new county, drawing the ire of his old friends from Tucson, who accused him of selling out the people who elected him to the legislative assembly. The main issue in conflict was that Pima had built a significant debt, and Tucson officials wanted the rich mining districts in the south to help pay. Finally they compromised: the new county would assume part of the debt, and on February 2, 1881, Tombstone became the seat of a new county rich in mining prospects and bustling with recent arrivals. It was to be named after famed Apache leader Cachise, b
ut something went wrong.

  "Cochise County-the right name is Cachise, but in the bill passed by the Legislature creating it, the spelling was done with an o, and it has to remain so," explained Richard Rule, who served as secretary to the legislature before coming to Tombstone to work at the Nugget.72

  The Epitaph did not like it better one way than another. "It is immaterial whether it be spelled with an 'o' or an 'a,' either way is bad enough. Why the name of such a villainous enemy of our race should have been attached to our county is beyond comprehension."73 Even the county stationery said Cachise, and the Epitaph ran Cachise in its masthead. Accuracy bowed to usage, however, and it has stayed Cochise County ever since.

  The new county was ripe with political plums, and jobs would be filled by the governor to last until the November general election of '82. Territorial governors were appointed, not elected, and the Republican administration of President Rutherford B. Hayes had given the job to John C. Fremont, who led California's fight for independence and served as the Republicans' first presidential candidate in 1856. The old Pathfinder, as Fremont was called, had slowed with age, but he still had a few tricks left in what looked to be a big-time battle for jobs in the new county. Fremont made the appointments, but they had to be approved by the dominantly Democratic legislative council, the upper house of the territorial legislature. As Behan had told Earp, his political friends in Prescott could virtually assure him the appointment as sheriff of Cochise. Cockily, the Democrats believed they could control all appointments in the new county, and they sent a slate of candidates to the governor and demanded their appointment. Fremont responded by nominating six Republicans and five Democrats, including Behan.