Pete Spencer, usually referred to as Spence, lived with his young Mexican wife on the corner of First and Fremont in Tombstone, across the street from Virgil Earp. He was reputedly a dangerous man, with some allegiance to the cowboys. No one knew at the time that his real name was Elliott Larkin Ferguson, and he was a Texas outlaw on the run.
"There I found that Frank Stilwell had one new boot heel," Dodge continued. "Wyatt found out from the shoemaker that he had put a new heel on Frank Stilwell's boot. We arrested Frank Stilwell and [later] Pete Spence. On our way in to Tombstone Stilwell and Spence both swore they would get Wyatt, Morg and myself for this arrest."79 Shoemaker R. P. Dever would later testify he had removed Stilwell's narrow heels and replaced them with others much broader.80
The posse brought Stilwell and Spence back to Tombstone, where they appeared before Justice of the Peace Wells Spicer in a preliminary hearing and were granted bail of $2,000 each, with Billy Allen, Ike Clanton, and C. H. "Ham" Light paying part of the bail. Spence and Stilwell were quickly discharged by Spicer on insufficient evidence when alibi witnesses assured the court that the two accused robbers were elsewhere when the stage was stopped. Dodge and the Earps were convinced they had the right men, whether the courts thought so or not, and Stilwell and Spence would later be arrested on federal charges for the stage robbery.
FROM THE FIRST DAY THE BOOMERS POURED INTO TOMBSTONE, one fear had stood above all others. The Mexicans, the rattlesnakes, and the cowboys were dangers they knew. Most frightening of all, though, was the danger they rarely saw. Somewhere, off in the hills, Tombstone townsmen envisioned hordes of Apaches just waiting for their chance to attack. Nearly every day newspaper stories detailed a battle at some remote post, where the Apaches would murder some settler for simply building a home on native land. While nearly all the reports were false, most of the miners and cowboys feared they would be next. Tombstone formed a militia in September and waited in readiness.
Finally the call came late on the night of October 4. A friend dropped in on Parsons to tell him that soldiers and Apaches were fighting in Dragoon Pass, north of Tombstone. The battle could only mean the beginning of the war. Parsons wrote: "The Indian scare spread through town, although ... I slept tranquilly through it last night. Being on the edge of town, I did not hear whistles blowing and the general commotion, and was surprised at the excitement existing this a.m. and all last night. Armed squads went out and reconnoitered and it seems that after their fight, the Indians started for my mountains, the Huachucas, but the noise drove them back."
The whistles from the Vizina and Tough Nut mines, used to signal emergencies, awakened the rest of the town, and it was learned that Geronimo and Cachise's son Natchez had led a band of Apaches who had jumped the San Carlos reservation. The Apaches appeared headed for Cachise's old stronghold, a natural fortess in the Dragoon Mountains.
Mayor Clum, who had earlier served as agent at the San Carlos, Sheriff Johnny Behan, and Marshal Virgil Earp led a forty-man militia to ride into the hills to fend off Apache attack. Parsons, just two years removed from his bank job, volunteered to become an Indian fighter, carrying a rifle and a cartridge belt. Behan was chosen captain and Virgil Earp the first lieutenant for the socalled Tombstone Rangers. Wyatt Earp rode as a trooper. John Pittman Rankin, a black man, served as cook and trooper for the expedition. The band rode out of town toward a ranch owned by Edwin B. Frink.
Parsons recorded the journey, telling of passing deserted hay ranches, with food left on the tables when the inhabitants made quick exits. Heavy rains came to soak the troops and wash away tracks. "Some [posse members] slunk away and gave it up," Parsons wrote. "Clum and I were left some distance behind; in fact, many of us had hard work to get along, the ground was so soft and boggy, horses going in nearly up to their knees at times. Didn't feel entirely comfortable, sometimes away behind so, as the thought of possibly being taken in entered my mind, but after dark awhile, we reached our destination, or rather appointed place for rest, and crowded the room after picketing horses from the storm. About ten o'clock that day, the Indians attacked Frink's Ranch and stole a good part of his stock, and he claimed to know just where they were, saying he could put us right onto them. He was positive of their being in force about 20 miles from his place in a pass in the Swisshelm Mountains, southern end of Chiricahuas.
"We dried as much as possible, cleaned guns and saw they were in good working order, made some coffee into which one fellow's shoe fell, but coffee couldn't be wasted, and laid all over one another to catch some sleep, an unsuccessful matter," Parsons recorded. "Some of us looked out for horses, rounding them up once in awhile, as Indians might stampede them. Our sleeping postures were beautiful. I crawled under table and had to twist legs around one table leg to let M.W. [Marshall Williams] recline, and we were in all manner of shapes all over the little room ... finally about 3 A.M. the call to horse was given, and we left single file with Frink as guide, following a trail by light of the moon which was full and shed a ghastly light over the line of determined men riding over that vast prairie, as it seemed to be, through the long, wet grass and across the soggy country. Providence favors the Indians, the boys said, as they crossed dry shod, and we floundered in mud part of the distance; but Providence was on our side, I think."
By the next morning, October 6, a little of the fervor had dampened among the remaining militia members who had not deserted. Parsons succinctly analyzed the mess: "I deemed it foolishness for our small party to attempt a fight, but of course being in for it now, I determined to stand by them to the last man.... Well, at last in the bright morning, we reached the mountain pass but found no Indians. Scouted thoroughly but, with the exception [of] some pretty fresh, scattering trails, there were no signs and none of a large force, such as we had expected to find. After a feed for man and beast, we recrossed the Sulphur Springs Valley to [McLaury's ranch] under a hot sun and over a boggy valley, leaving Frink behind, who shortly came in on a run with several head of his stock. It seems that a while after we left him and while he was hunting up some stock, the Indians opened fire on him, but he escaped unhurt; so, the red devils saw us all the time, and we didn't see them."
The Earps and Behan had put aside their differences to join together and chase Apaches, to prevent an attack on the town and settlers. The Earps may have resented Behan, and Behan may have hated the thought of his Sadie flirting with Wyatt Earp, but saving the city took precedence. At the McLaury ranch, something strange happened.
"At McL's was Arizona's most famous outlaw at the present time, 'Curly Bill,' with two followers," Parsons wrote. "He killed one of our former Marshals, and to show how we do things in Arizona, I will say that our present Marshal [Virgil Earp] and said 'Curly Bill' shook each other warmly by the hand and hobnobbed together some time, when said 'Curly Bill' mounted his horse and with his two satellites rode off, first though stealing a pair of spurs belonging to one of our party, as they couldn't be found after their departure. 'Curly Bill' was polite and considerate enough though to sharply wheel his horse to one side of my bridle, which I had accidentally dropped. He's not a bad-looking man, but looks very determined.... It was amusing to me to see with what marked deference his two young followers acted towards their chief, and how they regarded us, affecting a devil-may-care, braggadocio sort of manner."
Parsons noticed something else that he would not reveal until half a century later in a letter to Stuart Lake: "The best of feeling did not exist between Wyatt Earp and Curly Bill and their recognition of each other was very hasty and at some distance. Virgil Earp at that time was on better terms with Curly Bill and he and I walked up to him and had a chat, while the others rested and took things easy for a little while. It was a rather tense situation. It, however, did not last very long as Curly Bill and his two pals went off. 1181
By the time the party reached McLaury's the threat of an Indian war was subsiding, and several militia members returned to Tombstone. Parsons had a curiosity to satisfy. He camped wi
th the soldiers and wrote: "Soldier encampment was a pretty sight.... I viewed [the Apache] Scouts with much interest with Clum, who found some he knew at San Carlos when he was agent and [they] were delighted to see him. Their confab was quite extended in Indian talk, Apache.... One company or two of Negro or Buffalo Soldiers, as the Indians call them, are in this command. They deride them, the hostiles I mean, do. They fought well though in Dragoon Pass."
The Buffalo Soldiers would gradually earn the respect of much of the frontier, and this battle helped build their reputation. The October 27 Nugget headlined, "And the colored troops fought nobly."
The next day Clum passed on what he had been told by the Apache scouts. The marauders numbered only about one hundred and were not nearly as imposing as the townspeople feared, Parsons realized: "Clum contended last night that the Indians were driven off of San Carlos by bayonets, and forced into this thing and it certainly looks like it. The coal lands there are valuable and the S.R.R [Southern Pacific Railroad] wants them.... It looks like a put-up job."
The San Francisco Stock Report saw the same scenario: "The Indians have been deliberately goaded into hostility in order that their property may be seized. Some officers of the army are in the plot."82
Another Tombstoner had a different explanation, telling the Stock Report: "Contractors in Arizona had been trying for years to get up an Apache war, and the outbreak was the final result of their efforts. With the contractors were associated the cow-boys who supply the contract beef. This beef represents stolen cattle. The cow-boys steal cattle and sell the beef at low rates to certain contractors, and the latter compete with the cattle-raisers. The cow-boys and contractors and a few storekeepers put up the job for the war, but did not make a complete success of it. The war ceased rather abruptly and two or three big business men went into insolvency."83
Whether the cowboys or the railroad prompted the brief Apache war, it became apparent that even Indian attacks had become a tool of the business interests. Both the beef contractors and the railroad would benefit from such an outbreak, and it is likely that all were pushing for conflict. Lost lives-Apache, black, and white-would be of little consequence to the businessmen.
Clum's little party returned safely to Tombstone, never sighting an Apache or firing a shot in anger. The entire Apache threat may have been more a fear than a reality. The army dispatched General J. C. Kelton, adjutant general of the Department of the Pacific, to investigate, and he returned to San Francisco to tell the Examiner: "The Apache war, as it is called, has been much exaggerated. There really has not been a war, and I am tempted to assert that never before has eighty or one hundred men created as much noise and excitement and given so much trouble as have those eighty Chiricahuas, who have just sought refuge in Mexico. There has never been, nor has there been any likelihood of any general outbreak among the Arizona Indians."
Kelton's report appeared on the Examiner's front page on October 27, 1881. Back on page three of the same issue was another dispatch from Tombstone about an event that would long be remembered.
While the Earps were chasing Apaches, Cochise County experienced its fifth stage robbery in eight months, a dubious distinction indeed. On October 8, five highwaymen tried to stop a stage near Charleston, only to have the driver jump from his seat and flee. The abandoned team took flight and raced down the road before crashing. The robbers pursued and found the shattered coach with eleven shaken passengers. At gunpoint, they emptied the passengers' pockets and made off with about $800, then returned $5 to each passenger for expenses.' Five days later, Wyatt and Virgil Earp arrested Frank Stilwell and Pete Spence for the robbery, further antagonizing the cowboy crowd.
The McLaurys and Clantons held a grudge. According to Wyatt, they had long been friends of Stilwell and Spence, and they blamed the Earps for the arrest. Frank McLaury even said that he would never speak to Spence again because he had been arrested by the Earps. After Wyatt and Morgan took the two suspects into custody, Ike Clanton and Frank McLaury took offense, pulling Morgan into the street in front of the Alhambra saloon where John Ringo, Joe and Milt Hicks, and Ike Clanton began shouting at him for chasing the hold-up men. According to Wyatt, Frank McLaury said to Morgan, "If you ever come after me, you will never take me." Morgan replied that if he ever had occasion to go after him, he would arrest him. Frank McLaury then said to Morgan, "I have threatened you boys' lives, and a few days ago had taken it back, but since this arrest, it now goes." Morgan walked off without responding.85
The Earps were never good at taking humiliation, and having a favorite brother embarrassed in public would have been maddening to Wyatt and Virgil. They were not on the scene to take action, and Morgan's report would have festered in their minds through the coming weeks.
BETWEEN CHASING APACHES AND AVOIDING COWBOYS, the citizens of Tombstone enjoyed the good life of the frontier. Diarist Parsons delighted in visiting one of the town's ice cream parlors nearly every night. Oysters, shipped in ice, were an often-enjoyed delicacy, and traveling performers showed up to entertain the audience of miners, merchants, and cowboys at Schieffelin Hall. Many of the businessmen, transplants from San Francisco, New York, or Boston, expected a higher level of sophistication than bawdy houses and cheap entertainment.
Tombstone had changed dramatically in just a year. A more educated element began moving into town, providing a burgeoning intelligentsia capable of arguing Washington politics or debating the merits of classic literature. Sol Israel ran a successful newsstand, stocking selections of books as well as newspapers from around the West. He would soon have competition from a young bookseller named Aleck Robertson, who would later become one of the most respected publishers in the West. Robertson brought his bride, Jennie, to Tombstone.
"All sorts and conditions of men were going there -wild natures and others of the best in the race and culture," Jennie Robertson told her granddaughter, Cynthia Pridmore. "Some were writers, artists, professional men, lawyers and physicians. These were noticeably in the ascent, not daunted by a lack of water which was delivered in buckets at five cents a gallon.... The people who came to this frontier in the early '80s making homes and carrying on their businesses and professions were, as a rule, fine families from the east, south and west with high courage, ability and talents."86
The presence of an intelligentsia distinguished Tombstone from most other mining communities, which were made up largely of rougher elements. Tombstone emerged during a national recession, when even the more educated and cultured were migrating in search of opportunity. These were people unfamiliar with the recklessness of frontier life, more demanding of order and the vestiges of civilization. Where old-line frontiersmen might have been willing to accept a few shoot-'em-ups in the streets, the new breed of sojourner could never tolerate such madness. In its first year of existence, Cochise County grew with an oddly contrasting mix of new arrivals, dangerous drifters in the backcountry and people of education and refinement in the towns. Wanted criminals rubbed shoulders with legitimate businessmen as both sought wealth in the promising mining district.
They also sought entertainment. The rougher crowd was drawn to dancing women and bawdy displays, while the more refined enjoyed other diversions. Pinafore shows, repertory companies, and even a few Shakespeareans visited the half-dozen Tombstone stages, with Schieffelin Hall the most prominent. The little town also had amateur performing groups and a glee club.
"Music was of a high class," Jennie Robertson said. "There was much in private entertainment; the usual affairs to raise money for churches. One great event was the Martha Washington Tea Party, given in Schieffelin Hall. A minuet was danced as part of the entertainment. Colonial costumes were ordered from San Francisco for the men taking part. The ladies were adding watteaus and panniers of whatever material there was to be found to the evening gowns and some very handsome laces were seen. Hair was powdered and all details of a minuet of 20 parties carried out."
This was the remarkable contrast of Tombstone. Inside th
e halls, the good citizens danced the minuet in citified elegance. Down the road in Charleston, the rustlers plotted dangerous deeds while chewing down tough steaks and gulping whiskey. In town, they had more refined tastes. Parsons often went for a chop at a restaurant with a Chinese owner and chef, and Tombstone boasted fine dining. The Rockaway Oyster House, the Russ House, and the Grand Hotel offered gourmet dinners. Miss Nellie Cashman operated the Russ House, providing for the city's more discerning appetites at 50 cents a meal. For Thanksgiving in 1881, the Russ House menu included salmon, corned beef, ham, veal cutlets a la jardiniere, fillet with beout sauce aux huitres, ox tongue a la subeis, and an assortment of pies, cakes, and puddings.
The misplaced Brahmins and brokers could satisfy most of their appetites for food, drink, and pleasure. Among the 375 or so businesses were 47 saloons, and drinks were available in perhaps another dozen locations. Saloons even offered cold beer, a rarity on the frontier where ice was always in short supply. The finest whiskeys were shipped from San Francisco, and good cigars were always available. Baseball, the growing national passion, had become a local sta ple as early as 1881, and both Tombstone and Charleston fielded town teams that played on holidays.
The town was almost devoid of the elderly. The population was made up mostly of men and women ranging in age from their mid-20s through their 40s. There were children-enough for a school-and the Epitaph raged against young boys being allowed in saloons, "watching the gaming and listening to the vulgar talk and profanity that so often occurs around the bars and gaming tables.... There ought to be a law enacted entailing heavy pecuniary penalties upon the head of a family whose boys, under the age of eighteen, shall be found in any saloon, dance house or house of ill fame." 87
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