Wyatt Earp: The Life Behind the Legend

by Casey Tefertiller

  The Arizona Star emerged as the most aggressive opponent of the cowboys, calling for blood without mercy. Editor and publisher Louis C. Hughes never hesitated to take a strong stance, nor did he hesitate to change his position when political exigencies demanded. In the early months of 1881, Democrat Hughes and the Star stood firmly behind the idea to eliminate the cowboys by any means possible, and the Republican governor agreed wholeheartedly. But Fremont could not convince the Democrats in the legislature. His militia plan died quickly. The politicians in Prescott did not want to spend the territorial budget on a militia while the U.S. Army had a force in the area sufficient to chase cowboys. One legislator wrote, "The undersigned thinks the raids of the cowboys less detrimental to the territory than would be the proposed raid on our trea- sury."89 The politicos could not be convinced that the army could not legally take over the duties of local law enforcement unless the president declared martial law, but Arizona politicians were never too quick in understanding how the government actually worked. The Arizona officials succeeded in saving a few dollars for the territorial treasury and left Curley Bill and the boys to do their damage in the backcountry. It was a political blunder that would cost the territory dearly, both in lives and stature.

  When the legislature failed to act, the local ranchers began discussing the problem. The short-lived and aptly named Tombstone Gossip newspaper reported rumors that the Stock Association of Southern Arizona was considering taking a role in breaking up the rustlers unless the law took control. Any action by the cattle associations could never be confirmed, but it would later be rumored that several contributed to a $1,000 reward for Curley Bill, a dubious action since Bill had never been convicted of a crime.90

  In the early months of 1881 the cowboys were still mostly a nameless, faceless group of backcountry ruffians. Curley Bill drew a notch of attention for killing Marshal White, and Pony Deal's name had been circulated around as a badman, though no one yet knew he was actually the escaped Texas outlaw Charles Ray, a native of Illinois. The cowboys were just a bunch of "thems."

  By the early weeks of 1881, the Earps already knew that the biggest problems would come not just from the trail-riding toughs, but from the crooked ranchers who acted as sponsors for criminality, purchasing stolen cattle and providing sanctuary for the thieves. At times these ranchers would even join in on raids into Mexico and assist in the stealing and killing that occurred. The McLaury brothers and the Clanton family had already shown their alignment, though few citizens in Tombstone could distinguish them from the honest ranchers who owned neighboring spreads. As the Star continued its calls to eradicate the cowboys in a burst of blood, it is likely that Wyatt Earp waited patiently for Johnny Behan to name his new undersheriff. Something else would intervene before the announcement came.

  MURDER AND MADNESS

  MOB PAUL AND BUD PHILPOTT sat side by side on the box-the driver's seat -of the stagecoach as it passed through the little town of Contention on the night of March 15, 1881. Paul still awaited the final decision on his appeal of the contested election against Shibell, and he continued in his job as a Wells, Fargo shotgun messenger. At 6-foot-4, Paul was a giant in a time when 6-footers were rare. He had served as sheriff of Calaveras County in California before moving on to Arizona, and he owned a reputation for honor and courage. Eli Philpott, always called Bud, came to Arizona from Calistoga, California; he was a top stage driver, a skilled and respected position.

  Paul and Philpott were making the evening run from Tombstone to Benson, "a God-forsaken place, made up-aside from the station and a warehouse-of a few corrals and uninviting shanties."' Near Drew's Station, two miles from Contention, a man stepped onto the road and yelled, "Hold."

  "By God, I hold for nobody," Paul responded, aiming his double-barreled shotgun as several more men stepped into the road. Blasts went off, almost simultaneously, one striking Philpott. He fell forward, between the two horses, and the stage lurched forward. The newspaper accounts tell the story of Paul answering the shots and wounding one outlaw, then fishing down to recover the reins and bring the horses under control a mile down the road. Paul discovered that passenger Peter Roerig had been badly wounded, then drove rapidly to Benson to send off telegrams describing the incident. When Paul returned to the scene, he found Philpott dead in the road. Roerig, too, would soon die from his wounds.2 An unusual discovery was made at the crime scene -three masks made of rope, twisted into ringlets, plus a rope beard.

  "A most terrible affair last evening," Parsons wrote in his diary. "Men and horses were flying about in different directions, and I soon ascertained the cause. A large posse started in pursuit. $26,000 specie' reported on stage. Bob Paul went as shotgun messenger and emptied both barrels of his gun at the robbers, probably wounding one. 'I hold for no one,' he said and let drive. Some 20 shots fired. Close call for Paul."

  Sheriff Behan quickly assembled a posse to ride out of town in pursuit. Parsons, John Clum, and others remained in reserve if a call came, watching the streets to report on any nefarious characters or strange doings that might be of importance later. Deputy U.S. Marshal Virgil Earp said later that twenty-five or thirty men offered their services, but Behan told them all he wanted was the Earp boys and Bob Paul, who met the posse at the site of the robbery. Bat Masterson and Marshall Williams, the Wells, Fargo agent, joined the posse at Earp's behest. "We agreed to go and stay in pursuit as long as he [Behan] thought it best to follow them," Virgil Earp said.3

  The posse arrived at a deserted cabin and found the floor strewn with old dime novels, sensational tales of adventure. Wyatt Earp picked up the books one by one, then tossed each aside until he found one that had been torn apart, with the last part missing. Earp put the book in his saddlebag and carried it along for the ride, according to the account by writer Forrestine Hooker. For three days the posse tracked the robbers, following the trail to a ranch owned by Len Redfield, believed by the Earps to be sympathetic to the outlaw cowboys. The Earps spotted a man trying to hide from them, and Morgan Earp made the capture. The man identified himself as Luther King. Wyatt took him to Behan and admonished the sheriff not to allow King to talk with either Len Redfield or his brother Hank, who had joined the group. Wyatt stepped aside to confer with Bob Paul on the next step and returned to find the Redfields chatting with King, despite Earp's instructions to Behan that this should not be allowed. Hank Redfield left immediately, and Wyatt went to work on King, who confessed to being at the attempted stage robbery.

  King admitted to holding the horses while Billy Leonard, Jimmy Crane, and Harry Head did the actual shooting. King told where the outlaws had camped, but Hank Redfield had already galloped out, presumably to deliver a warning. The posse split up, with Paul, Masterson, Marshall Williams, and the Earps in pursuit of the robbers.

  "Behan went back to Tombstone with King, and we followed the rest for six days longer before we could get to a place to telegraph for advice,"4 Virgil Earp said. They found freshly extinguished campfires and signs of life. By Hooker's version, they also found pages from the cheap novel at the campsites, a sign that these campers were the same men who had holed up at the cabin planning the robbery. Behan arrived in town with Luther King on March 21 and placed the prisoner in custody.

  Virgil telegraphed to Behan to bring fresh horses to replace the mounts worn down from nine days' work. When Virgil went to the meeting place with Behan, the new sheriff had not delivered. There were no fresh horses to carry the weary posse. Virgil said, "That night, Bob Paul's horse laid down and died. Wyatt's and Masterson's horses were so used up they were left at the ranch and the boys had to foot it in eighteen miles to Tombstone."5

  Wyatt Earp and Masterson walked back to town while Virgil, Morgan, and Paul, with a new horse, continued in pursuit of the cowboys, who had gained ground after picking up fresh mounts at Redfields'. Perhaps not until Wyatt returned did he learn that Behan had made his appointment of a new undersheriff-Woods. He had broken his deal with Earp, and Wyatt would not receive
the high-paying job he had expected. For the moment, he was too occupied with the stagecoach killings to worry about a broken promise. With the rest of the posse still out chasing the robbers, Wyatt monitored incoming telegrams and watched over local affairs. Wells, Fargo detective Jim Hume arrived in town and posted a $300 reward on each of the would-be robbers.

  "Wyatt told him [Hume] there were about seventy-five cowboys in town who would try to release King," Virgil said. "Hume got Wyatt to go with him to the Sheriff's office to notify them, and they asked as a favor of the Under Sheriff to put King in irons. He promised to do so, and fifteen minutes afterward King escaped, going on a horse that was tied back of the Sheriff's office."6

  On March 28, King simply took off, leaving a string of questions behind. Angrily Parsons wrote in his diary: "King, the stage robber, escaped tonight early from H. Woods who had been previously notified of an attempt at release to be made. Some of our officials should be hanged. They're a bad lot."

  The Nugget account said King quietly stepped out the back door while attorney Harry Jones drew up a bill of sale for the horse King had sold to John Dunbar, Behan's partner in the Dexter Corral. The Nugget speculated that a confederate had waited outside with a horse for the time the prisoner could make his escape. The Nugget pleaded for understanding, saying a guard had watched King since he was brought into town, and he took flight in the single unguarded mo- ment.7 Such paltry excuses did not sit well with the residents of southern Arizona.

  The escape caused an outcry that echoed throughout Arizona. The Tucson Citizen editorialized: "A most flagrant dereliction of duty in a public officer is manifest in the manner in which Lew King, the cowboy ... escaped from Under Sheriff Woods. Utterly disregarding the information that an escape was premeditated, the prisoner was given every opportunity to get away if not with official connivance, at least by a most simple ruse." The Citizen also said, "The escape was the result of inexcusable and culpable negligence on the part of the officer in charge, as he had been notified of the intended escape of King."$

  Back on the trail of the thieves, Behan, Breakenridge, Ed Gorman, and Buckskin Frank Leslie joined Virgil Earp, Morgan Earp, and Paul on March 24, and the posses went on, sometimes apart, sometimes together. Virgil Earp learned that the suspects owned a ranch near Cloverdale, New Mexico, and sought directions. As Virgil told the story to the Epitaph, he and his posse were directed to a ranch fifty miles to the southwest in Grant County, where they found only deserted buildings. Despite having no food or water, they pushed forward, hunting for a ranch. After two hungry days they were virtually lost and had to stop their hunt to search for water. They found none. With both men and mounts starving and thirsty, Virgil's horse played out after seventeen days under a saddle. Morgan Earp loaded Virgil's gear on his own horse and the two Earps were forced to walk on, driving the horses ahead of them.

  That night, almost exhausted, the party reached a spring. Sitting down to discuss their situation, they decided that Behan, Leslie, and Breakenridge would start back to Berlow and Pierce's ranch, a hundred miles distant, for food and water, leaving the others to follow as best they could. When Behan's group reached the ranch, they immediately dispatched men with provisions and water for Paul and the Earps. They had been four days in that almost trackless desert, and the only morsel of food that had passed their lips was a quail that one of the posse had shot.9

  The party reached Galeyville but could not secure fresh horses to resume the chase and returned to Tombstone. The Star added an editorial note praising the posse riders for the unsuccessful effort: "The persistent pursuit of the murderers of poor 'Budd' is a credit to each individual member of the party, and will pass into our frontier annals-more especially to Bob Paul and the Earp boys, who followed the trail from the night of the murder-as a record of which all and each of them may well feel proud."10 The bedraggled Earp party returned with no prisoners and growing rancor for Behan, who had failed to bring fresh horses, and his undersheriff, who had allowed King's escape.

  By the time Virgil Earp returned to town from his long posse ride, Tombstone had paid its last respects to Bud Philpott. The town threw a fund-raiser, a musical show that earned $330 for the driver's widow, back in Calistoga. Wells, Fargo paid for a decorative casket for Philpott. "It was an act of generosity highly commendable, and is an exception to the rule that 'corporations have no souls,"' the Tucson Citizen wrote. The driver's body was shipped home, and Tombstone grieved its loss)'

  The deaths of Roerig and Philpott had greater meaning to the community. For all the latter-day tales of the frontier, wanton murder was a rarity. Killing to settle a dispute was one thing, but killing just for the sake of killing was something altogether different. Even bandits seemed to live by a code of honor which prevented slaying except in self-defense. These murders shocked the West Coast, and the San Francisco Exchange gave voice to the anger:

  The dispatches state that there is great excitement in Tombstone over the late attack on the Benson stage ... and it is but natural there should be. That the crime was committed not by the ordinary road agents who generally hesitate to shoot, but by cowboys, the most reckless class of outlaws in that wild country, there is scarcely any doubt. The dispatches also state that a Vigilance Committee has been formed with a view of ridding the community of this desperate element, and we hope it is true. The cowboy is infinitely worse than the ordinary robber, who generally spares life if he can get money, in that he is utterly reckless of human life. He cares even less for it than money. He glories in being regarded a terror. He rarely cares to steal anything but cattle, but in the company of human beings his revolver is ever brandished, and on the slightest pretext, or fancied pretext, he sends a bullet into a victim's heart with as little compunction as he would kill a dog. He is worse than the Indians, in that he associates with whites and performs his reckless deeds amid peaceful surroundings. There should be no hesitation in driving this element out of Arizona, and it should be done at once. Cowboys should be declared outlaws. They should not be permitted to enter Tombstone or any of the mining districts in that section. They should be hunted down the same as hostile Indians, and, if necessary, the military should take the matter in hand. There is neither justice or sense in allowing a community to be terrorized by these white savages, and we hope that the Tombstone Vigilance Committee will act promptly and do their work effectively. It will not be hard work; the rope for a few ringleaders, and the rest of the cowards will thereafter give the place a wide berth.l2

  San Francisco investors took great interest in the events in Tombstone, and stage robberies like this one could dissuade the big-money boys from opening their wallets. Business survived through the shipment of goods-if the robbers closed down the commerce, Tombstone would be closed as well, spelling disaster for the local residents and the San Francisco backers.

  The whole Philpott incident proved a blot on Tombstone, an embarrassment to the little mining district with the big expectations. Wells, Fargo's Jim Hume reflected darkly on the town in a letter back home to his fiancee, Lida Munson, "Tombstone has a population of six thousand-five thousand of them are badone thousand of them known outlaws. I don't want much of Tombstone."13

  The killing of Philpott brought to the surface the animosity against the cowboys that had been growing over the months. What had been accepted back in 1880 was no longer tolerated in 1881. Philpott's killing embittered the lawabiding citizens of Tombstone and started a public outcry to protect the community.

  The events of March and early April would have other consequences. Behan's failure to replace mounts and his general incompetence on the posse furthered the split between the Earps and Johnny Behan. Moreover, the sheriff angered the Earps by refusing to pay them. As Virgil Earp told it, "Behan brought in a bill against the county for $796.84. We supposed it was to pay expenses for the whole party, but he rendered it as a private account. I went before the Supervisors and they said Behan must vouch for us. This he refused to do, saying he had not deputized us
. Everybody but myself and brothers were paid, and we did not get a cent until Wells-Fargo found it out and paid us for our time."

  The incident also strengthened the bad feeling between the Earps and the cowboys, friends of the accused robbers Leonard, Head, King, and Crane, according to Virgil: "From that time on our troubles commenced, and the cowboys plotted to kill us. They met at Charleston and took an oath over blood drawn from the arm of John Ring [eic], the leader, that they would kill us."14 While there is no other known record of an April blood oath from the arm of John Ringo, it was not long before blood did flow in the streets of Tombstone.

  Boyish-looking undersheriff Harry Woods, 33, came to his new job with an unusual resume. The blond native of Alabama had worked as a reporter for the Tucson Record long enough to make numerous friendships that would carry over into the future. After the Record folded, he moved to Tombstone in June of 1880 and became editor of the Nugget in late July when the paper went from a weekly to a daily. His political friendships in Tucson served him well when he ran for the legislative assembly; he drew many votes in the Tucson precinct. He was innovative, once jumping out a window to prevent the legislators from having a quorum to vote on a bill he opposed. But Harry Woods drew the wrath of Tucson for his support of the Cochise County bill and his failure to vote with Tucson assemblymen on other issues.15