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First Photo Of A Crime In Progress

Anton Veith was a Milwaukee newspaper editor traveling out West. On August 15, 1900, he was on a stage on its way to Yosemite. Carrying on idle conversation with fellow passengers, Anton asked them what they would do in the case of a holdup, and they had their entire fortune on them. One said he would give it up; he could make another fortune, but didn’t have another life. Another said that a bullet didn’t always hit its mark, and he would run the other way.
A little later that day the stage pulled to a stop, and Anton heard a voice say, “Get Down!” It was a holdup. The robber had a gun slung over his shoulder, and a pistol in his hand. No one on the stage had a gun, not even the driver and guard. Anton said the robber was careless, and on several instances, he felt he could jump him, but no one else was willing to help.
 
The robber was kind to the women, allowing them to stay in the stage. And most of the men were able to hide some of their money and valuables. The robber even gave Anton back his heirloom pocket watch.
 
Anton had his camera with him, and he brazenly asked the robber if he could take a picture of the robbery in progress. Amazingly, the robber agreed. The picture Anton took shows the robber, gun in hand, and the male passengers all in a line. Following the picture, the robber had everyone load up and told the stage to drive off.
A copy of the picture was turned over to the legal authorities. But, despite the picture, and an extensive hunt for the robber, as happens many times today, he was never found.
 

A Nobleman Smitten by The West

Windham Thomas Wyndham-Quin was born on February 12, 1841 as the fourth Earl of Dunraven.  In 1874, at the age of 34 the Irish nobleman came to the United States to check on some land that he owned.  Incidentally, that land was 60,000 acres where Estes Park, Colorado is located.

 
Although his entourage was small when compared to other noblemen who had come west, it was in no way spartanistic.  His group included a guide, Western consultant, artist, personal physician, gun bearer, servant, and collie dog, Tweed.
 
Dunraven spent several weeks hunting and seeing the sights of Yellowstone.  One day he decided to climb Mount Washburn.  He saw hundreds of miles of forest, prairie, lakes and mountains.  Dunraven was awestruck.  He sat there meditating until his guide, in fear of impending bad weather, forced Dunraven to go back down the hill.
From this experience, Dunraven wrote a book entitled The Great Divide in which he stated that Mount Washburn should be considered “sacred ground.”  Dunraven’s book became very popular in Europe, in part because of his wit and clever writing style.  In it he stated, “I never have an adventure worth a cent; nobody ever scalps me; I don’t get ‘jumped’ by highwaymen.  It never occurs to a bear to hug me, and my very appearance inspires feelings of dismay or disgust in the breast of the puma or mountain lion.  It is true that I have often been horribly frightened, but generally without any adequate cause.”
Although for 16 years he returned to the United States for visits, Dunraven eventually resumed the life of an aristocrat sailing yachts and fox hunting.  But to his dying day, at the age of 85, he never forgot that view at the top of Mount Washburn.

Chuckwagon: Black Pudding

Here’s an old ranch recipe courtesy of Winkie Crigler, founder and curator of The Little House Museum in Greer, Arizona

6 Eggs                                                            1 Cup Sweet Milk
2 Cups Flour                                                  1 Tsp Soda
1 Cup Sugar                                                   1 Tsp Cinnamon
1 Cup Molasses

            Mix well.  Pour into 1-pound can and steam for 2 to 3 hours by placing in kettle of boiling water.  Keep covered.

            This is to be served with a vinegar sauce:

1 Cup Sugar                                                   1 Tbsp  Butter
1 Tbsp Flour                                                  2 Tbsp Vinegar
½ Tsp Nutmeg

            Put in enough boiling water for amount of sauce wanted.  Add two slightly beaten eggs and cook stirring constantly to the desired consistency.

*Courtesy of Chronicle of the Old West newspaper, for more click HERE

Book Review: Six-Shooters and Shifting Sands

512-Y18uBYL._SX336_BO1,204,203,200_Author Bob Alexander had a long career in law enforcement.  Combining this with his love of Texas, he now specializes in writing the biographies of various outlaws as well as lawmen, and here he takes aim at Captain Frank Jones of the Texas Rangers.

The book contains carefully researched information about the life and times of this brave man who was born in 1856 and died young, at age 37 in 1893.  Jones’ remarkable career is filled with straight-shooting combined with faithful adherence to the laws of his State of Texas.  These Rangers withstood unbelievable hardship as they helped create a safe environment for ranchers, settlers, townsfolk and adventurers alike.  They dealt with never ending long days in the saddle, cold and heat, sudden political harangues and many uncertainties regarding their jobs and futures.  Many of these men had no real personal lives, they were expected to be nearly superhuman in their promise to keep the peace.

Captain Frank Jones was born during tumultuous times in Texas during which Comanche swooped down on homesteaders, often kidnapping and murdering men, women and children.  Comanche raiders combined with white rustlers, robbers, Mexican bandits and many miles between settlements and help was not a place for folks lacking grit.  Frank’s mother Keziah Jones gave birth to her son on their lonely ranch while marauding Comanche terrorized the neighborhood.

Keziah’s photograph shows a severe, straight-laced and grim woman whose stare alone could stop most Comanche in their tracks.  This photo and many others in the book show Frank’s family members, Ranger cronies, and important political figures he knew.  With surnames like Hogg, Outhouse and Outlaw, this is better than what any fiction writer could possibly make up.

When Frank Jones joined the Frontier Battalion (later known as the Texas Rangers) he began chasing outlaws, and riding to the scenes of robberies, cattle rustling, fence cutting, murder, and every other depredation imaginable.  No one could ask for a more exciting profession.  Guns, horses, brawls, skulduggery. . . , it’s all here.

The book delves mostly into the career of Frank Jones, and touches only briefly upon his personal life.  We find out he was married twice, his first wife was in fragile health and died soon after the couple’s second child was born.  Frank had to put both children to live with relatives while he pursued his career.  Sadly, the second child soon died.  Several years later Frank married a divorced woman who had one son from her first marriage.  Her ex was also a lawman, and a friend of Frank’s.  She was pregnant with Frank’s son when Frank was killed during an ambush perpetrated by a gang of Mexican outlaws at a place called Pirate Island.

Frank Jones’ story ends with a tragic and fiery shoot-out between his group of Texas Rangers, and a Mexican gang well-hidden behind adobe walls.  The Rangers rode right into a trap, and were cut down in a thunderous fusillade, leaving Captain Jones mortally wounded but still fighting back until his dying breath.

Today Frank Jones lies buried beneath his memorial monument in a cemetery near Ysleta, Texas.  A sentimental photograph shows his old pals and comrades in arms circling his grave in remembrance.  We see tough old Rangers in their twilight years respectfully resting their hands on the grave marker, their eyes shining with sadness, courage and respect.  Some of these men were with Frank at Pirate’s Island the day he died.

Bob Alexander has once again written a valuable and memorable biography of an old-time Texas Ranger who deserves to be remembered.  This book belongs in your Texas Ranger collection.

Author’s Note:  The Reviewer, Phyllis Morreale-de la Garza is the author of many published books, including the novel Hell Horse Winter of the Apache Kid, published by Silk Label Books, P.O. Box 700, Unionville, New York 10988 (845-726-3434)  www.silklabelbooks.com.

*Courtesy of Chronicle of the Old West newspaper, for more click HERE

Ike Clanton

N. H. Clanton, better known as “Old Man” Clanton, was the leader of a band of outlaws that at one time numbered as many as 300 men. They operated in southeast Arizona. They were known to rustle Mexican cattle and rob a bullion train now and then. In 1881 a group of the clan headed by the Old Man robbed a bullion train in Guadalupe Canyon, killing 19 Mexicans in the process. A few weeks later the Old Man and 5 gang members were in turn ambushed and killed by friends of the murdered Mexicans.

With Old Man Clanton dead, one of his sons, Joseph Isaac Clanton, took over the business. “Ike” Clanton, as he was known around Tombstone, just didn’t have the grit. And although the gang was still known as “The Clantons”, the actual leader became Curly Bill Brocius.
But Ike was still around. He was like that fly that keeps landing on your face when you’re trying to catch a nap. With a feud between the Clantons and the Earps developing, Ike Clanton seemed to always be talking tough, but stopping just short of an actual fight.

True to his nature, when it came time for the big shootout, Ike refused to fight… and even though Wyatt fired at him several times, Ike escaped with only a slight neck wound. Later Ike supposedly masterminded the ambushes of Virgil and Morgan Earp.
After the Earp bunch left Tombstone Ike settled in northeast Arizona, where he continued his cattle rustling. But what Wyatt and Doc couldn’t do, a couple of novice deputies were able to accomplish, and on June 1, 1877 while being arrested, Ike Clanton finally pulled his gun and was shot dead.