Sunday, August 5, 2018

Sweetwater Madam


Libby  Thompson


Elizabeth “Libby” Thompson was born Elizabeth Haley in 1855 in Belton, Texas.  Like many Texas families, her family’s fortunes collapsed during the Civil War and faced near poverty.  To make matters worse, Libby was abducted by the Comanches in 1864.  She was only nine years old.  After three years of captivity, her father paid a hefty ransom for her release.  Although she appeared physically and mentally healthy, most Belton residents assumed she had been raped while in captivity.  By the morals of the day, Libby was now a “soiled dove;” a young woman who lost her virginity out of wedlock.  She had little to no chance of finding a husband.  The only man who tried to court her was shot by her father.  He thought he was too old for her.  Ostracized by the locals and having a father who might shoot what few suitors she had, Libby was left with few options.   At fifteen, she ran away from home.  In frontier Texas, the only career options for a single woman were school teacher, boarding house matron, theater actress/singer and prostitute.  Libby chose the latter, and where better to get a start than the Kansas cattle town of Abilene.  

Libby later moved to Ellsworth, Kansas where she met the love of her life, Billy Thompson, the brother of notorious Texas gunslinger, Ben Thompson.  When he wasn’t drunk, Thompson drove cattle along the Chisholm Trail or dealt cards as a professional gambler.  When he was drunk, Billy had an itchy trigger finger like his brother.

A Confederate veteran, Billy had little respect for the U.S. Army during Reconstruction.  After a drunken altercation on March 31,1868, Thompson shot and killed William Burke, a U.S. soldier and clerk with the U.S. Adjutant General’s Office in Austin.  In Rockport, he shot an unarmed stable hand named Remus Smith.  Remus had slapped his horse when it nosed into the wrong feeding trough.  After both shootings, he hid out to avoid arrest before making his way to Ellsworth.  Joined by his brother Ben, they both became in-house gamblers at Brennan’s Saloon in Ellsworth.

By 1873, Billy and Libby were a couple.  Libby gave birth to their first child while both were on a cattle drive.  To give legitimacy to their child’s birth, they both goth married the same year.  It was also the year Billy faced his most serious charge - murdering a town sheriff.  A fight with a Brennan’s customer, over a high stakes game of Monte, led to the intervention of Sheriff Chauncey Whitney.  The sheriff was a good friend of the Thompson brothers.  Guns were drawn and tempers flared.  A drunken Billy accidentally discharged his shotgun into Sheriff Whitney.  “My god Billy,” his brother Ben stated, “you have shot your best friend.” The sheriff died and Billy fled Kansas after a $500.00 reward was issued for his arrest.  The three killings kept him on the dodge, leading to eventual arrests and acquittals in both Kansas and Texas.  Libby and Billy settled in Sweetwater, Texas where they purchased a ranch.  Libby became the madam of a Sweetwater brothel that fronted as a dance hall.  While there, Libby became known as “Squirrel Tooth Alice;” a nickname she acquired because of a rodent-like gap between her two front teeth and a talent for making pets out of prairie dogs.  Like a pack of poodles, she placed them in collars and walked them on a lease. As a madam, she had little tolerance for bad manners.  Any cowboy who got out of line could be looking down the barrel of her pistol.

Though Billy was away for long stretches of time, she managed to raise nine children.  Being a prostitute, it’s highly questionable if Billy was the father of all nine of them.  Most of them would follow her into a life of crime and prostitution. Worn from the years of sharing a bed with sex- starved cowboys, Libby retired at sixth six.  She lived with her many children before dying at a Los Angeles nursing home on April 13, 1953.  She was ninety eight years old.

Saturday, May 26, 2018

2nd Texas Flag and Rogers' Sword on Display

Texas Civil War Museum Display of 2nd Texas Flag and Col. Rogers' Sword


On October 4, 1862, Colonel William P. Rogers assembled his men before a formidable Union battery just outside Corinth, Mississippi.  Two previous assaults against Battery Robinett were unsuccessful.  To maintain his men’s momentum for a third assault, he grabbed his regiment’s battle flag, the flag of the 2nd Texas Infantry Regiment.  With his other hand, he drew his sword.  Clark scaled the earthen parapet that concealed the cannons within.  The 2nd’s charge captured the battery but faltered before a powerful Union counterattack.  Seven bullets found their mark in Rogers’ upper chest.  His bullet ridden corpse was left behind.  Impressed with Rogers’ bravery, Union Major General Rosecrans had his body set aside for burial on the spot.  He stated, “Mark his grave well men, for he was the bravest man I ever saw.” Rogers’ grave would later be marked with a monument where it remains to this day.

Colonel Rogers' Sword

Evading capture, the flag was carried from the field and later accompanied the 2nd Texas into Vicksburg. It was smuggled out by Dr. Charles Owens before the Confederate surrender.   After the war, the revered flag was kept by 2nd Texas Captain William Christian before it passed into private ownership.  For years, the flag remained folded and locked in a safe.

Under the direction of textile conservator Josh Phillips, the flag was meticulously conserved and placed in a glass case.  In 2016, the Texas Civil War Museum purchased the flag.  The 48” x 54” silk flag incorporates the “Texian” pattern which features a large lone star in the middle of the cross.  A portion is missing due to souvenir cutouts from the flag’s fly end.  The names of the 2nd Texas’ two battles before Corinth (Shiloh and Farmington) appear on the flag’s red field.  The fabric is punctured with 20 or more bullet and artillery shell holes.  Adding further provenance, a written note from Captain Christian is glued to the flag.  It states:

“Our treasured battle-flag torn by shot and shell in battles of Shiloh, Farmington, Corinth, Hatchie-Bridge and Vicksburg.  Our gratitude to Owens for saving it from capture at Vicksburg.”

Noted Civil War flag expert Greg Biggs writes, “In my years of flag research, I can categorically state that no Texas unit flag has been more sought after than those for this unit, especially the flag used in their famous charge at the Battle of Corinth, Mississippi in early October, 1862.”

Bullet holes on 2nd Texas Flag

Now, both Rogers’ sword and the 2nd Texas flag are on display to the public at the Texas Civil War Museum.  

2nd Texas dead near Battery Robinett.  The body of Col. Rogers is on the far left.

Friday, May 11, 2018

Summer of the Savage

Henry McCulloch




On June 2, 1861, Confederate Colonel Henry McCulloch trotted slowly into what was once a Federal Indian Reservation. Along with Major Edward Burleson, he arrived to hold council with the reservation’s Native Americans. The place appeared deserted. Because of the oncoming Civil War, the reservation’s Federal troops withdrew north into Kansas. Prior to leaving, they told their charges they would be massacred by the Confederates. In response, many reservation Indians fled their homes for the plains beyond. McCulloch assured Caddo, Anadarko and Tonkawa tribal leaders they would not be attacked as long as they remained peaceful. The Comanches and Kiowas, however, were not receptive toward any such assurances.

Since 1859, Fort Cobb, located in the Southwest Indian Territory, was the new home for Native Americans that formerly resided in Texas. Outraged over mounting Comanche raids, frontier settlers pushed Texas lawmakers to forcibly move all Native Americans north of the Red River. In addition to providing food and provisions, Fort Cobb’s Federal garrison was supposed to keep the Indians north of the Red River; they failed with the Comanches and their allies, the Kiowas. To make matters worse, unscrupulous traders cheated the Indians out of promised provisions, supplying them instead with rotten meat and rotgut whiskey. Scales for grain distribution were fixed to under supply the Indians and overcharge the Federal government. The Civil War brought new problems; Federal troops evacuated the Indian Territory completely, leaving North Texas wide open. Emboldened by the departure of Federal troops, hostile Indians began raiding Texas with a vengeance.

On January 30, 1861, the Texas state legislature formed a Committee of Public Safety to oversee the removal of Federal troops from Texas. The committee appointed Henry E. McCulloch, brother of famed Texas Ranger Benjamin McCulloch, to form a mounted regiment of volunteers to replace the departing Federals. The 1st Regiment, Texas Mounted Riflemen became the first Texas regiment to be mustered into Confederate service. Henry McCulloch was elected colonel, Thomas Frost lieutenant colonel, and Edward Burleson major. The 1st was charged with the protection of North Texas along a line running from the Red River to present day Kerrville, an area of roughly 30, 000 square miles. For shelter, the regiment’s companies occupied abandoned Federal forts. Captain Sidney Green Davidson described Fort Chadbourne as a “pretty post” with comfortable quarters, but the “dullest place in the world.” If there were not enough quarters, they constructed them from materials left by the Federals. Otherwise, tents of various shapes and sizes were issued. Each man was issued the frontier Texas version of a sleeping bag, a sleeping sack or burlap bag filled with straw. Because of the lack of trees, firewood had to be hauled in by wagon from East Texas. Water was available, but loaded with bacteria during the hot summer months, leading to numerous outbreaks of illness at the forts. Food consisted of worm-ridden hardtack, coarse cornmeal, over salted pork, and mushy pickles. Vinegar was issued to fight scurvy. Anything approaching fresh had to be hunted.

Defending North Texas, with just a single regiment, was practically impossible against the highly mobile Comanches; McCulloch devised a system of patrols to scout and engage the Indians on a continuous basis. Nevertheless, numerous bodies of ranchers, farmers and their families began turning up - scalped and covered with arrows like a pin cushion. At his ranch near Jacksboro, William Youngblood was killed and scalped while splitting rails. His neighbors went in pursuit of Youngblood’s killers; they killed two and retrieved Youngblood’s scalp to be buried alongside his body. Though effective, the constant patrols wore down the horses, leading to a severe shortage of fresh mounts. Grass was scarce on the open prairie, adding further to the horses’ misery. Very few were available for purchase; the Comanches had stolen most of them.

When the Comanches were encountered, 1st Texas troopers charged and gave chase for miles over dry, open prairie, risking a tumble from a prairie dog hole or a rattlesnake’s bite. On July 29, Captain James “Buck” Barry’s thirty-two man company encountered seventy Comanche warriors near the Clear Fork of the Brazos. The Indians were scattered when their leader, donning a Federal uniform jacket, was shot down. Not every patrol was successful; Captain Davidson was shot through the heart while in pursuit of Comanche war party. Lacking shovels, much less coffins, Davidson’s company buried him where he fell, in a shallow grave dug out with hatchets. Near Big Spring, a forty man patrol under Colonel Frost fought in a tight circle surrounded by 150 or more Comanches. During the fight, Trooper William Alexander recounted one of his better shots: “I dismounted, raised my gun sight to 500 yards, took aim, and cut him down.” The fallen warrior was ridding the slain Captain Davidson’s horse.

Abandoned during the war, Fort Cobb was more of a rest stop for raiding hostiles rather than a place of confinement. Severely underfunded, the 1st Texas kept patrolling until April, 1862. Their enlistment periods up, the 1st Texas was mustered out of service. The state-financed Frontier Battalion took its place. Most of the 1st Texas re-enlisted and continued serving the Confederacy in the Trans-Mississippi.

Sunday, February 11, 2018

Bowie's Big Silver Hunt

Jim Bowie


They could see them in the distance; one hundred or more Tawakonis, Caddos and Wacos moving fast on their tracks.  They weren’t looking for a trade or share of provisions, but booty and scalps instead.  The eleven-man expedition quickly unpacked their mules at a grove of scrub oaks, and then formed a line of leveled muskets.  Fortunately, their leader was no stranger to a standup fight.  His name alone was firing the frontier spirits of Americans everywhere, especially those seeking a new life in Texas. 

Most people know Jim Bowie for his legendary knife and martyr’s death at the Alamo.  What they don’t know is Jim Bowie had an abiding passion for wealth – gained honestly or dishonestly.  More often, it was dishonestly on a massive scale.  While residing in Louisiana, his first big score came from illegal slave smuggling.  Slaves were in big demand to work the massive gulf state plantations, but they could only be obtained within the United States.   Along with his brother, Rezin, Bowie purchased smuggled slaves from the notorious pirate, Jean Laffite.  Based in Galveston, Lafitte lifted his human booty from Spanish ships in the Caribbean.  Claiming they were taken from shipwrecks, the Bowie brothers turned them into the local parish sheriff.  By law, the slaves were to be sold at auction, with half the proceeds going to the people who turned them in.  Bolstered by the proceeds, the Bowies always outbid their competitors.  After making a cool $65,000.00 (around $1.5 million today) they had to give it up when the local authorities got suspicious.

During the1820’s, Bowie turned his attention toward land speculation.  Land titles, in the Louisiana Territory, were questionable at best, a total quandary at worst.  Decades of French, Spanish and American rule led to a Gordian knot of land claimants.  Bowie took advantage of the confusion by forging Spanish land grants for 60,000 acres of prime Louisiana acreage, much of it in present day Arkansas.  To back them up, he purchased affidavits from false witnesses.  Speculating, especially in a frontier territory, usually got you more enemies than real estate.  Among those enemies was the Sheriff of Rapides Parish, Norris Wright.  In the Antebellum South, personal disputes were often settled by fists and dueling pistols rather than courts of law.   After Sheriff Wright made disparaging remarks about Bowie in public, an incensed Bowie confronted the sheriff in a hotel lobby.  Wright pulled out his pistol as Bowie picked up a chair to hit him.  He promptly shot him in the chest.  Fortunately, the bullet didn’t penetrate the skin, but left Bowie severely bruised.  The fight turned to fisticuffs, highlighted by Bowie biting Wright on the hand and losing a tooth in the process.  Friends pulled the two apart and carried Bowie to a hotel room.  From now on, he wouldn’t be caught without a weapon.  Flintlock pistols were too unreliable.  Instead, he would carry a large menacing knife provided by his brother.

The confrontation wouldn’t end there.  Their next exchange took place at a remote Mississippi River sand bar.  In front of dozens of onlookers, Wright dueled with a friend of Bowie’s; the friend’s second was Bowie himself.  When the duelers missed their targets, their seconds took out their pistols and started exchanging fire.  The gentlemanly duel turned into a farcical, no-holds-barred gunfight.  Bowie went down with three bullet wounds in his thigh and torso.  Wright moved in for the kill with his sword cane.  Before he could inflict a fatal stab wound, Bowie rose up and thrust his knife into Wright’s chest.  The Jim Bowie legend was born.

Like the smuggled slaves, Federal investigators began to unravel Bowie’s land claims.  For Bowie, it was time for new opportunities and distance from U.S. law enforcement.  Because it was in Mexico, Texas offered new possibilities.  After an amazing recovery from his bullet wounds, he headed out west to San Antonio.  It was there he met the former acalde, Juan Martin de Veramendi, and his charming daughter, Ursula.  Bowie presented himself as a wealthy entrepreneur looking to stake a claim.  Ursula was smitten with the legendary knife fighter; they married in April, 1831.  In addition to a reputation, he now had the Veramendi family’s wealth and status. 

Always on the lookout for a big payday, Bowie had heard tales of a lost Spanish silver mine in the San Saba region, a hundred miles northwest from San Antonio.  Using his in-law’s connections and money, he obtained the Mexican government’s permission to lead an expedition in search of the mine.  Unfortunately, the search was to be in territory held by the Comanches.  The Comanches were at peace with Mexico at the time, but that didn’t apply to their neighbors, the Wacos and Tawakonis.  The eleven man expedition rode out from San Antonio in the autumn of 1831.  Three weeks into the journey, they encountered a couple of Comanches and their captive Mexican interpreter.  The interpreter warned them of a large body of Wacos, Tawakonis and Cados in the area.  Near the San Saba River, they encountered a Tawakoni scout with hundreds of his friends right behind him.  A parley was attempted, but Rezin Bowie refused to part with any of their goods.  Severely outnumbered, the treasure hunters took their goods from the pack mules and arranged them like sandbags for cover.  The Indians launched an all-out attack after encircling the expedition.  Five of Bowie’s men became casualties.  Fortunately, they were better armed and held them off.  After the Indian chief was killed by a volley, many of his comrades met the same fate trying to carry his body from the field.  Realizing their attack was more hazardous to them than Bowie, they tried to set fire to the prairie grass and burn him out.  The fortune hunters frantically began pulling up grass and pushing away dead leaves to keep from being burned alive.  Luckily, the wind wouldn’t cooperate.  The fire that did reach Bowie was beaten out with buffalo robes.  Evening darkness brought an end to the attacks.  Out in the distance, Bowie’s men could hear the piercing wail of Indians mourning their dead.  Their losses too great to bear, the Indians left the scene.  Worried about future attacks, the six survivors built themselves a makeshift fort of rocks.  Bowie erected a flag pole, defiantly waving a small flag “to intimidate them and show them that there were still men ready for a fight.”  Though no silver was found, Texas found a new hero.  Bowie’s reputation rose to new heights in the aftermath.  His exploits bolstered Texan fortitude and later gave impetus to their growing discontent with Mexico.

Sunday, November 26, 2017

The Dead-Line


Granbury's Texas Brigade at Pickett's Mill 



Though it was formed late during the Civil War, Brigadier General Hiram Granbury’s Texas Brigade would establish a legendary reputation for bravery and ferocity in the Western Theater.  The brigade was formed in November, 1863 at Chattanooga before the Battle of Missionary Ridge.  Eight Texas regiments, including Granbury’s 7th Texas, were consolidated into a single brigade under the command of General James Argyle Smith.  A lawyer before the war, Granbury had commanded the 7th Texas from the Fort Donelson Campaign until the Battle of Chickamauga.   The new brigade was attached to the Confederate division commanded by Arkansas Irishman, Major General Patrick Cleburne. Smith was wounded during the Battle of Missionary Ridge and replaced with Granbury.  During the Confederate retreat from Chattanooga, Granbury assisted Cleburne in performing a remarkable rearguard action at Ringold Gap, saving the Confederate Army of Tennessee from annihilation. The Texans waited until the Yankees came within fifty yards then unleashed a wave of gunfire that decimated General Ulysses S. Grant’s XV corps. After a five hour stand, Cleburne withdrew into Georgia and received the official gratitude of the Confederate Congress.    The following spring, Union forces, under General William Tecumseh Sherman, advanced into Georgia.  General Joseph Johnston tried to hold off Sherman by forming a series of defensive lines which Sherman skillfully bypassed, forcing Johnston to retreat.  Sherman’s objective was Atlanta, not a single decisive battle.  On May 22, 1864, Johnston again established a defensive line, this time, thirty miles east of Atlanta at New Hope Church.  General Thomas Hooker, the former Commander of the Army of the Potomac, struck the entrenched Confederate division of General Alexander P. Stewart.  Hooker was repulsed with heavy casualties, but the worst was yet to come.  Further to the right on Johnston’s line, near an abandoned grist mill owned by the Pickett family, Patrick Cleburne was waiting.

Though repulsed at New Hope Church, Sherman decided to try flanking the Confederate right.  He dispatched General Oliver Howard’s Corps for the attempt.  The one-armed Howard was known as “Old Prayer Book” by his men for his fervent Christian beliefs.  The rocky ravines and jungle-like growth made marching difficult.  Companies became lost in the vines and could only find their way through bugle calls to and from the companies marching in front.  The Confederates heard the bugles as well and positioned themselves accordingly.  Cleburne’s men had the advantage of height above a vine-chocked ravine.  On May 27, the brigade of General William Hazen moved up ravine toward Granbury’s Texans.  Cleburne’s artillery opened fire, cutting down trees and men alike.  Hazen’s tough Ohioans continued their advance to within thirty yards of the Texans.  Like Rngold Gap, a brutal standup fight ensued along Granbury’s line.

 Future author, Lieutenant Ambrose Bierce witnessed the battle firsthand and later penned an account entitled “The Crime at Pickett’s Mill.”  Bierce later wrote, “With its well-defined edge of corpses-those of the bravest, where both lines are fighting without cover-as in a charge met by a counter-charge-each has its deadline and between the two is a clear spot-neutral ground, devoid of dead, for the living cannot reach it to fall there.”  Confederate Sergeant A.G. Anderson also left an account of the deadline.  “They seemed to be drunk, and line after line would charge us and be cut down,” he wrote, “They came so close to us that they endeavored to plant their colors (flags) right in our lines, and when the flag would go down another man would raise it again.  Many of their men rushed into our lines and were clubbed and bayoneted to death.”  An exception to the many was noted by Private William Oliphant.  Dropping his musket, one young Union soldier grabbed one of the implanted flags, waved it in the Texans faces, and then retreated down the ravine.  “One of the Texans,” recalled Oliphant, “shouted out don’t shoot him, he’s too brave.”  A cheer went up as the young bluecoat retreated down the ravine with the flag.

By 6:00 PM, Sherman decided to call off the attack.  Union casualties were 1,600 killed and wounded.  Cleburne suffered 600.  In General Cleburne's official report on Pickett’s Mill, Cleburne wrote, "The piles of dead on this front was but a silent eulogy upon Granbury and his noble Texans."  Faced with further losses and tired of the rugged, wooded terrain, Sherman decided to pull his army from their trenches and head northeast toward the railhead at Allatoona Pass.  Johnston could only follow.  Blankets of dead horses and humans filled the ravines from New Hope Church to Pickett’s Mill.  Union troops gave the ravines an appropriate moniker - “The Hell Hole.”  Impatient with his retreats and lack of success, Confederate President Jefferson Davis replaced Johnston the following July with General John Bell Hood.

Wednesday, August 30, 2017

The Duel

                                                   Luke Short                   Tim Courtright




During the later days of the Wild West, the most talked-about, one-on-one gunfight happened on a Fort Worth boardwalk.  Contrary to Hollywood depictions, such gunfights were a rarity.  Gunfighters did not meet at a designated hour in the middle of a deserted street.  More often, they dueled abruptly after their whiskey infused passions fell to their trigger fingers.  On February 8, 1887, Tim “Long-Hair” Courtright and Luke Short brought their pistols to bear in a gunfight for the ages. 

Luke Short’s life was a history book of the Wild West.  He held interest in the West’s most famous saloons: the Oriental, in Tombstone, Arizona, the Long Branch Saloon in Dodge City,  Kansas, and the White Elephant in Fort Worth, Texas.  He also loved to gamble in those saloons while donning the finest in men’s wear - top hats included.  Born in 1854, the Arkansas native worked on cattle drives to Kansas and served as a U.S. Army scout during the war with the Sioux Indians.  He also sold liquor to those same Indians he was fighting.  Making sales from the back of a wagon, Short became widely known for his fine tasting whiskey, which was usually tainted.  Tiring of the cowboy life and sleeping on the open ground, he turned to professional gambling to make a living.  Starting with the Colorado mining town of Leadville, Short traveled the circuit of Wild West professional gamblers seeking saloons with loose spending customers.  A life of gambling led to a life of gunplay, something Short had a deadly talent for.  While in Tombstone, he killed a drunken Charlie Storm with two shots from his pocket revolver.  In 1883, Short and his wife settled down in Fort Worth.  He became business partners with Bill Ward and Jake Johnson, the owners of the White Elephant Saloon.  Short would manage the gambling operations.   Because of his reputation, he attracted big name gamblers that drew public attention.

While Short skirted the law, Tim Courtright enforced it as a city marshal and self-proclaimed private detective.  Like Short, he served as an army scout during his youth.  In 1875, he and his wife Sarah moved to Fort Worth where he tried his hand at farming.  After three years, the farm failed; Courtright was forced to find a new occupation.  He became a city jailer then was elected city marshal by a mere three votes.  Courtright served as Marshal for three terms before traveling to New Mexico.  He was accused of murdering two squatters while serving as a deputy.  Courtright managed to escape arrest.  He came back to Fort Worth and opened a detective agency; it was actually a front for his protection racket.

Being a popular cowtown, Fort Worth naturally attracted all the seedy elements trail drivers and local businessmen sought.  Those elements gave birth to “Hell’s Half Acre;”a huge red light district that encompassed two and a half acres south of the Tarrant County courthouse. Further north of the courthouse, the establishments were more polished, but still offered the popular vices, namely gambling, prostitution, liquor, and cock fights.  Societal norms aside, the vices generated a hefty bottom line.  What was needed was law enforcement that kept the peace without shutting down any red light enterprises.  With his two-holstered pistols (butts facing forward),  Courtright kept the peace while leaving the gamblers alone.  In one evening alone, he jailed up to thirty unruly cowpokes.  Not content to be just a low paid, standup marshal, Courtright sought a piece of Fort Worth’s gambling operations.   In return for payment, he offered gambling halls, like the White Elephant, his brand of protection.  Certainly no stranger to tough guy assertions, Luke Short told him to get lost.

The White Elephant had progressed from a mere saloon and billiard hall to an elegant gentlemen’s club.  During its heyday, it offered the finest dining in Fort Worth, complete with a cigar factory out back.  Upstairs, Short’s gambling rooms were constructed of the finest mahogany and graced with crystal lighting fixtures.  The rosewood and ivory faro tables were described as “works of art.”  In addition to the many felt gaming tables, cockfighting pits lured combative fowls from miles around.  The most popular attraction was a Luke Short inspired form of lottery called Keno. Unlike the other games, Keno required no skills, just luck, and it paid big.   Unfortunately, Keno was easy to rig compared to other games and was often the target of public outrage, usually from those that lost their money.  Included among the outraged was “The Law and Order Society.”  Its members demanded the removal of the game or else they would burn down the White Elephant.  Fort Worth’s “Keno Craze” made huge profits for the White Elephant owners.  Tim Courtwright wanted a piece of the profits and a piece of Luke Short as well.


Courtright pushed his way into the White Elephant and loudly demanded to see Short, who was having his shoes shined.  Short went outside to find his business partner, Jake Johnson, and Courtright waiting for him.  Johnson was trying to smooth things over, but to no avail.  Short and Courtright walked several yards down the street from the White Elephant to the appropriate frontage of a shooting gallery.   Courtright pulled out his six- shooter.  Short, however, beat him on the draw.  He killed Courtright with four shots.  Short was arrested and spent the night in jail.   Among those who witnessed the gunfight was Short’s friend from Dodge City, the legendary Sheriff William “Bat” Masterson.  Known for his abusive, short tempered demeanor, Courtright was not a popular man.  Nevertheless, he had a considerable number of uptown Fort Worth supporters; they wanted to lynch Short that evening.  Wearing his famed six guns, Masterson guarded Short’s jail cell himself.  No sane person would dare challenge the guns of Bat Masterson.  Short was later acquitted on the grounds of self-defense.  Courtright was buried after one the largest funeral processions in Fort Worth history.

Saturday, August 19, 2017

Coming To A Texas Town Near You !



Of all the storied brigades that served under General Robert E. Lee, there was one he always counted on the most – the Texas Brigade.  His admiration for his Lone Star boys was best summed up while watching a military parade next to a European observer.  As the Texans marched past, the observer pointed out the torn backs of their uniforms.  “It does not matter,” Lee replied.  “No one sees the backs of my Texans.”  At Gaines Mill, Second Manassas, Antietam, Gettysburg, Chickamauga, and The Wilderness, no one saw the backs of the Texas Brigade.  Their casualty rate was among the war’s highest.  There were no posthumous medals, no funeral processions to their hometown cemeteries, no flags presented to their widows, and no carefully manicured gravesites. These Texans made their heavenly assent from a 3 foot, unmarked burial pit.  You marched, you fought and you died.  Only 700 of the 7,000 members of the brigade made it back home.  The Texas Brigade always had the back of General Lee.  Now, it’s time for their descendants to have his back again.  The tragic event at Charlottesville, Virginia, has spurred a backlash against Confederate memorials and statues.  The strongest so far was in Durham, North Carolina, where members of a Communist organization pulled down a statue of a Confederate soldier.  I would urge native Texans to oppose such wanton destruction in their state.  Express your displeasure and oppose organizations who are attempting to rewrite history at the expense of your heritage.  The City of Dallas is establishing a commission to decide the fate of a Robert E. Lee statue at Lee Park.  Statues, such as this one, will no doubt be moved, but sticking them in junkyards or destroying them is a direct affront to Texas History.