Frank Jenners Wilstach - Wild Bill Hickok

Considering the admirable work of the photographers, it might seem unnecessary to have devoted so much space to what his contemporaries remember of his appearance. Yet while the photography is admirable—and Bill was neither gun nor camera shy—what General Custer, General Miles, Henry M. Stanley, and others had to say of him is illuminating. It may be as well, at this place, to add an interesting sidelight. The writer lately asked Gilbert S. Robinson, who married Bill’s step-daughter, what impression Hickok made on him at their first meeting.

“When he came to my home in Cincinnati,” replied Mr. Robinson, “and I first laid eyes on the world’s greatest pistol-fighter—with his long frock coat and high hat—I thought he was a preacher!”

What the writer’s investigations have been able to add to the store of fact regarding Wild Bill is disclosed in these pages. The most difficult problem encountered was the famous fight with the “McCanles gang of horse-thieves,” which took place on the afternoon of July 12, 1861.

It is the opinion of the writer that the mystery of that “renowned slaughter” has at last been cleared up as effectively as it ever will be. The enigma will never, I believe, be wholly solved. When David C. McCanles’s own son, Monroe—who, as a twelve-year-old boy, was an eye-witness of the tragedy—is unable or unwilling to give a plausible account of the happening, then one can do no more than make deductions from what facts can be verified. But in checking up Wild Bill’s activities other perplexities were encountered—notably how James Butler Hickok came to be called Wild Bill, and the canard that Calamity Jane was his sweetheart. These have been satisfactorily settled. Other facts and fictions have been looked into and suitably classified.

Frank J. Wilstach.

320 Manhattan Ave., New York , N. Y.

Table of Contents

For the past sixty years Wild Bill Hickok has been accepted on the last frontier as having been the greatest of all pistol shots. For speed in drawing and accuracy in firing, he had no equal. Buffalo Bill, speaking of his friend with whose pistol practice he was through their long association quite familiar, said in his memoirs that “he was the most deadly shot with rifle and pistols that ever lived.”

He began the use of firearms when he was a mere lad and it is certain that during the last twenty years of his life there was never a moment when either a pistol or rifle was not within reach of his hands. George Ward Nichols asked him in 1865 where he learned to shoot so perfectly, and he replied:

“I always shot well, but I came to be perfect in the mountains by shooting at a dime for a mark, at bets of half a dollar a shot.”

Nichols, desirous of having this famous marksman give him an example of his ability, told him that he would like to see him shoot. Wild Bill drew one of his revolvers and pointed to a letter O in a signboard which was affixed to the stone wall of a building on the opposite side of the way.

“That sign is more than fifty yards away,” Bill remarked. “Pll put six shots into the inside of the circle, which isn’t bigger than a man’s heart.”

And then it was that Bill, without raising his pistol to sight it with his eye, discharged six shots at the mark. It was found upon examination that all six had perforated the circle.

This story by Nichols is ample evidence that it was thus early in life that Bill had perfected his accurate aiming from the hip, which was the wonder of all who witnessed his marksmanship.

Emerson Hough, in his novel, “North of 36,” tells of a similar incident occurring while Wild Bill was marshal of Abilene. Mr. Hough, in this narrative, says that “all the army men rated Hickok as the best shot with rifle and revolver that the West ever saw.” Yet, he oddly states that while Bill was engaged in spotting the letter O he “ raised one of his weapons to a high level and fired.” All who have seen his pistol work declared that he fired from the hip. Although Bill was the least boastful of men, he has frequently been heard to say that he never missed a mark. Of course, one should always take with ample sprinkling of salt all such statements reported as coming from him, but it may be that he was amazingly self-assured regarding his pistolry.

When it came to shooting at a human mark, Bill’s many pistol battles are sufficient evidence that he was highly proficient—marvellously so. He is credited with killing from fifteen to seventy-five men, but this latter figure would naturally include his slayings, as a sharp-shooter, in General Price’s army, as well as his Indian killings.

Outside of his wolf-hunting exploits near his home at Troy Grove, Illinois, where he achieved considerable local fame on account of the accuracy of his marksmanship, the first public test of his ability came when he applied to General Jim Lane for membership in his famous Red Legs at Leavenworth, Kansas. The Red Legs were an unofficially organized troop of guerrilla cavalry enlisted on the abolitionist side to resist by force any invasion of Kansas by armed bands raiding from pro-slavery Missouri. Prentiss Ingraham gives a detailed account of this incident:

“Failing in an effort to secure employment at once in Kansas, whither he had gone in search of adventure, Hickok sought to enlist with the Red Legs. This aggregation numbered some three hundred men, all thoroughly armed and mounted but not having the wherewithal to purchase a horse and complete outfit, he was, greatly to his distress, refused as a Red Leg Ranger.

“A few days after this the Red Legs went out on the commons to shoot with rifles and pistols for prizes, and our youth determined to get into the ring if possible. To attract attention when any one shot and did not drive the bull’s eye he laughed in a satirical way, till at last one of the Red Legs turned fiercely upon him and said:

“‘Look a hyar, boy, you has too much laugh—as if you c’u’d do better, and dern my skins even ef yer haint a Red Leg I’ll give you a chance to shoot. Ef yer takes ther prize, I’ll pay yer put-up dust, an’ef yer don’t, I’ll take the hickory ramrod o’ my rifle an’ welt yer nigh to death. Does yer shoot on my terms?’

“'I will, and beat you, too,’ was the quiet response.

“All eyes were now turned on the tall, handsome youth before them, for several had determined to try his mettle after the shooting for having laughed at them, and now they gazed on him with increased interest. There were three prizes, viz.: a fine horse, a saddle and bridle for the first; a rifle and belt, with two revolvers and a bowie-knife for the second, and a purse of one hundred dollars for the third. He had some little money and said quietly: ‘Til pay the fees, for I want no man to give me money.’

“‘Then shell out,’ the stranger remarked. ‘It’s fifteen fer the first, ten fer the second, and five dollars fer the third prize, an’ ther boys hes all chipped in, an’ ef yer don’t win, boy, they’ll all see me larrup you.’

“All knew and greatly feared the speaker, Shanghai Bill, for he was a desperado of the worst type, a giant in size and of enormous strength and ever ready to get into a brawl. The boy smiled at his words, paid his thirty dollars, which left him with three in his pocket, and after the Red Legs had shot, took his stand and raising his rifle quickly fired. The first to start the cheering was Jim Lane himself, who cried out:

“‘By heaven! The best shot in three hundred.’

“‘It’s a accident; besides, Gineral, ther’s two more to be shooted,’ growled Shanghai Bill.

“The two more were then shot in the same quiet way as before and the bullets went dead centre.