Although women had been instrumental the development of our country, as 1869 was coming to a close, they didn’t have the right to hold a political office, or even vote.

But that was changed on December 10, 1869 as the first state gave women the right to vote and hold political office.  One would expect that it would be an eastern state…Quite possibly in the New England area.  But that wasn’t so.  It was probably one of the most frontier areas of that time…Wyoming.  So, why Wyoming?  Why were the men in the Wyoming Territory so progressive when it came to women’s rights?

One major backer, a middle-aged territorial legislator by the name of William Bright backed the bill because his wife convinced his that “denying women the vote was a gross injustice.”  Incidentally, the progressive wife happened to be about half his age.  Then there was Edward Lee, the territorial secretary, who argued that if a black man can vote, why couldn’t his dear sweet mother.  But most people supported the bill for another reason.

At the time the Wyoming territory had a population of about 7,000 adults.  Of those 7,000 adults, only about 1,000 were women.  And most of those extra 6,000 men were lonely for the companionship of a woman.  So, it was thought that if Wyoming gave women the right to vote, the territory would get national publicity, and in turn women…particularly single women would come to this rugged, isolated area.

When Governor John Campbell signed the bill one lawmaker gave the toast, “To the lovely ladies, once our superiors, now our equals.”

Did it work?  Well, if you visit Wyoming today you’ll meet some of the handsomest, most strong-minded women, and happiest men in the United States.

The December 9, 1897 Daily Star Newspaper in Tucson, Arizona Territory had the following recommendations for breakfast don’ts. They happen to be good advice for us even today.

BREAKFAST DON’TS
Don’t serve a breakfast on any but a fresh tablecloth.
Don’t expect fresh coffee if you are half an hour late.
Don’t comment on the bills you receive in the morning’s mail.
Don’t ask the man of the house what he would like for dinner.
Don’t ask your husband how much money he intends to leave you for the day’s expenses. After dinner is a better time to settle the financial question.
Don’t become so engrossed in the newspaper that you can’t address a remark to anyone.

Incidentally, this was one of the items in the December 2013 Woman’s Sphere from Chronicle of the Old West.

Sometimes Old West lawmen chased an outlaw only until he was out of sight.  He was lucky.  Then there were the unlucky outlaws that were chased by Harvey Whitehill.

As a young man, Harvey Whitehill mined in several areas in Colorado, and following the Civil War did some mining in New Mexico.  As one of the founders of Silver City, New Mexico, he ended up as their sheriff.  Whitehill came into the spotlight as the first person the arrest a young William Bonney for a petty theft.  Bonney was to later became famous as Billy the Kid.

But, Sheriff Whitehill’s true nature came out following a November 24, 1883 train robbery.  Four men held up a Southern Pacific train near Deming, New Mexico.  In the process, the train’s engineer was killed.

Wells Fargo and Southern Pacific placed a reward of $2,000 on the head of each of the robbers.  This whetted the appetite of semi-retired Sheriff Whitehill.  Whitehill searched the scene of the crime and found a discarded out of the area newspaper.  He traced it back to the subscriber, who was a storekeeper.  The storekeeper remembered using it to wrap some food bought by a local Black cowboy named George Washington Cleveland.

Whitehill found Cleveland at a restaurant where he was working.  Immediately Whitehill arrested him.  Although Whitehill had no idea who else was involved in the train robbery, he said, “I arrested you for killing that train engineer.  I already have your partners and they talked.”  After that, Cleveland spilled his guts.  The other three outlaws were arrested.

But, the four didn’t get a chance to go to trial…because they escaped from jail.  When the posse caught up with them Cleveland was killed, and two others were captured, only to mysteriously die at the end of a rope on their way back to jail.  Although the fourth person temporarily escaped, he was eventually captured.

Sometimes in life a person needs to let well enough alone, and not push an issue.  Billy Claiborne should have learned that lesson. Unfortunately, on November 14, 1882 he didn’t let well enough alone, and paid the ultimate price.

 Billy Claiborne was born in Louisiana in 1862.  He came out west where he worked for cattleman “Texas” John Slaughter.

Billy was a cocky young man who would swagger when he walked.  And he carried two guns.  His friends started calling him “Billy the Kid” after the real “Billy the Kid”.  Billy Claiborne liked the name, and so did the girls.  He even started referring to himself as “Billy the Kid” Claiborn.

Now, as time passed, Billy wandered down to Tombstone, Arizona and there he hooked up with the McLaurys and Clantons.

On October 26, 1881 “Billy the Kid” Claiborne found himself with the McLaurys and Clantons in a Tombstone, Arizona alley facing the Earps and Doc Holliday.  Realizing the desperate situation, Claiborn bugged out just before the shooting started.

Now, this is where Billy Claiborne should have left well enough alone, and high-tailed it out of town for a place where tempers were not raging.  But, Billy wasn’t that smart.

After the shootout at the O. K. Corral, and the death of Virgil Earp at the hands of the cowboys, Wyatt Earp declared vengeance against all cowboys.  One member of Wyatt’s posse was Buckskin Frank Leslie.  During the cowboy roundup, one of the more prominent cowboys, Johnnie Ringo was killed, and Billy Claiborne thought the gunman was Buckskin Frank.

So on November 14, 1882 Billy Claiborne came after Buckskin Frank.  Billy shot twice, and missed.  Buckskin Frank shot once, and hit his mark.

As Buckskin Frank walked up to Billy, Billy said, “Don’t shoot again, I am killed.”  An observer was heard to say, “Sure weren’t no Billy the Kid. He missed at thirty feet.”

The idea of the rendezvous was not that of a mountain man, but William Ashley, a St. Louis, Missouri merchant on a venture west.  Ashley decided to cut out the competition for furs by going to Wyoming where the mountain men were, instead of waiting for the furs to come to St. Louis.

So on November 10, 1824 William Ashley left St. Louis for Wyoming.  It was a six-month trip.

Since mountain men had little use for money, William took traps, weapons, trade goods, supplies and especially liquor.  And he marked up the cost of goods as much as twenty times their eastern price, and he paid less than half the St. Louis price for the plews, as the mountain men called the beaver pelts.

But the mountain men didn’t care, this was a chance for these normally solitary men to relax, drink, gamble, drink, womanize and drink.  It was an opportunity to rekindle relationships with other mountain men that they hadn’t seen for a year or more.  And discover those who had gone to the rendezvous in the sky.

Several thousand Indians also showed up for the party.  Even though some of the Indians and mountain men were mortal enemies, the rendezvous was a place of truce.

There were about 15 rendezvous over a period of that many years.  By then trading posts, forts and civilization found their way in the remote sections of the west and beaver pelts lost their value.  Some mountain men returned to civilization; others came out of the mountains to kill buffalo on the plains; still others went further back into the mountains, never to be heard from again.