The Scalped Man

Sometime in the mid-1820's, a man named Josiah Wilbarger came to Texas with his wife Margaret from Missouri and settled in a bend in the Colorado River a few miles east of present day downtown Austin. Hornsby Bend, as it was then called, was originally settled in 1820 or 1821 by Reuben Hornsby who staked out his claim on the land, built a small fort and then moved in his wife and children. Wilbarger made his living by hiring out as a scout and guide while his wife raised their children and a large garden. Soon, the Wilbargers called on their neighbors and in short order the families became close friends. Hornsby's Fort became Josiah's unofficial headquarters and he spent a lot of his off time there. This would prove to be a huge mistake.

Woodcut from Indian Depradations in Texas
 by J. Wilbarger - Courtesy Texas State
Library and Archives Commission

Wilbarger began using the same route from Hornsby's Fort along Onion Creek when guiding the surveyors that were mapping the dangerous lands to the west and therefore broke a cardinal rule of living in hostile country - his movements became predictable. When you are predictable, others who mean you harm can observe your habits and use them against you. 

One August morning in 1833, Wilbarger was leading a party of 4 surveyors along his usual trail westward when only 6 miles from the fort they decided to take a break for lunch. Josiah and 2 of the men removed the saddles from their horses, but the other 2 merely removed the bridals. They had just finished eating when suddenly, a number of Comanche Indians ambushed the group. Firing rifles and arrows from behind tree's and bushes, 2 men were fatally hit.The 2 men who had not removed saddles from their horses made a run for them. Wilbarger ran after them but was hit in the leg by an arrow. The man nearest him waited several seconds for him, but as Josiah was reaching to grab the back of the saddle to pull himself up, he was hit in the neck by a large caliber musket ball and fell to the ground. Fearing for their lives, the 2 men quickly wheeled their horses around and made a run back to Hornsby's Fort. 

The musket ball which hit Josiah had passed completely through his neck and exited under his chin. The projectile had somehow bruised but did not break the carotid artery and the jugular vein and nicked his spine. The wound caused him to be temporarily but completely paralyzed, even to the point of being unable to blink, while leaving him fully conscious. As he lay there as he had fallen, on his side with eyes open, he watched with increasing terror as the Indians begin to strip, cut the throats and then scalp the two dead surveyors. He knew his turn was coming, but try as he might, he couldn't move a muscle. When one of the Indians turned to him, he completely stripped Wilbarger of all clothing except 1 sock and then, grabbing Josiah by a handful of hair, lifted his head and stared into his face. With Josiah unable to move even his eyes and with a bloody wound under his chin, the Indian apparently was satisfied he was dead as he placed his large knife against the white man's scalp and gave a loud blood yell.

Josiah Wilbarger recovering after the
horror of being scalped.

Although still completely paralyzed, Wilbarger was conscious and he felt the sharp edge of the blade upon his scalp as the Indian cut around the hair and skin he intended to remove. He heard a sound like distant rolling thunder as his scalp was ripped away, but mercifully, there was little pain as his senses had been deadened by his wounded spine. He felt his head fall back and saw the Indian warrior stand up and walk away holding Josiah's bloody, detached scalp in his hand. It was at this point he lost consciousness.

When Wilbarger woke up in the afternoon, he found himself completely alone with nothing but the scalped bodies of the dead surveyors around him. He was once again able to move, but he was naked and the Indians had left nothing behind except the lone sock on his left foot; no horses, no guns, no food, no clothing, nothing at all that might help. His head hurt terribly and the sun had burned his naked skin a bright and painful red. He could feel blowflies crawling around his open wound and knew maggots would soon hatch and begin eating his flesh. He saw the arrow in his leg had gone mostly through so stealing himself against the pain to come, he forced the arrow the rest of the way through and out of his leg. Summoning all his will, Josiah then crawled to the banks of Onion Creek and drank of the muddy water. He removed the one sock he had been left, soaked it in the creek and as best he could, washed away the blood and insects from his scalped head. To get relief and to protect his head from the sun, he smeared wet mud on his bare skull and packed it in the wound in his leg.

After resting a while, he turned in the direction of Hornsby's Fort and began crawling toward it. He made it almost a mile before the coming darkness and exhaustion overtook him. Covered in blood which had mixed with the mud on his head and knowing he was about to die, he propped himself up against a large live-oak tree, modestly placed his hands over his naked crotch, and waited for death to release him from his unbearable pain.

While laying there just before it got full dark, Josiah's sister, Margaret Clifton, appeared before him. He knew he must be hallucinating because she was still living back home in Missouri. She spoke to him saying, "Have no fear, Brother Josiah. Remain here under this tree. Help is on the way." Before passing out, he saw her turn and walk toward Hornsby's Fort, disappearing into the night.

Back at Hornsby's Fort, the 2 surviving surveyors  had returned and told of the ambush. They reported the other 3 men were surely dead as they had seen "50 savages" fall upon the felled men with raised war clubs and knives and everyone knows Comanche do not leave a man alive. The fort was quickly locked down tight in expectation of an imminent attack. By the time it became dark, fear of  the Indians coming was waning and with the exception of one man posted as a guard, everyone prepared for bed. Lamp oil and candles were expensive and hard to come by during that time so people went to bed when it got dark. 

Sarah Hornsby, Reuben's wife, had been asleep about 2 hours when she suddenly awoke from a very vivid dream. She shook her husband awake and told him she had seen Wilbarger who was naked and wounded but still alive and laying under a big tree. Reuben told her it was just a dream, the men who returned had insisted all of the others were dead. About an hour later, she awoke again from the same dream. This time there had been more details. She told him Wilbarger had been scalped and was covered in blood. She also told him he had something on his head where he was now bald. Again, Reuben told her to go back to sleep. He promised her the men would go out the next morning to retrieve the bodies. After falling sleep once more, the dream returned a 3rd time. Sarah woke her husband again and loudly insisted Wilbarger was still alive and desperately needed help. She described the tree where he lay saying he was naked and bloody, but still clinging to life.

Reuben, no doubt totally exasperated by this time but knowing his wife wasn't going to let him sleep until he did her bidding, roused their 2 older boys and woke up several of the men sleeping in the fort to accompany him. He knew the large tree his wife had described so that's where they would head. Before leaving, Sarah told the men Wilbarger wouldn't be able to ride so she padded a wagon with quilts and blankets and insisted the men take it with them. She also provided a sheet with which to wrap him. With loaded guns and burning lamps, the men set out for the large live-oak tree along the banks of Onion Creek.

About 6 miles from the fort, the men found Wilbarger under the tree just as Sarah had described. At first, they were sure he was dead as he was covered in blood and mud and wasn't moving. They were standing there looking at him when suddenly Josiah opened his eyes and said, "Don't shoot, it's me, Wilbarger." Recovering from their shock, the men carefully wrapped his head in clean rags, clothed him in the sheet, hurriedly loaded him into the wagon and took him back to the fort.

Over the next 6 long and painful months, Wilbarger recuperated under the gentle care of his wife. The skin never grew back over the bald spot on his head so he began wearing a silk skullcap made by his wife to cover the exposed bone. Eventually, the wounds in his neck and leg healed and Josiah regained his health enough to make a living operating a cotton gin located near Hornsby Bend. By all accounts, the Wilbarger's were happy and lived a fairly normal life together even though Josiah was in almost constant pain.

The Wilbarger headstone in the Texas State
Cemetery

On April 11, 1845, over 11 years after he was scalped, Wilbarger's mind was preoccupied on something else when he entered the side entrance of his cotton gin. Not paying attention, he failed to duck low enough and struck the bald spot of his skull on the the wooden lintel of the door, fracturing his skull and exposing his brain. He died almost instantly and was buried in Fairview Cemetery not far from his home. Wilbarger County, Texas was later named after him. His son, John Lemon Wilbarger, became a Texas Ranger and was killed by Indians in 1850. John was also buried in Fairview Cemetery, but both Josiah and John were moved and interred together in the Texas State Cemetery in 1936. Josiah's wife, Margaret, later remarried and when she passed away, was laid to rest next to her 2nd husband, Talbert, in the Fairview Cemetery under the name Margaret Chambers.

What about the sister who came to him in a vision and gave him the will to continue because help was on the way? Due to the mail being very slow in those days, it was several months after the incident, while Josiah was still recuperating, when a letter was received informing him that his sister Margaret had taken ill and passed away. She had died the evening before he was scalped. Her family had lain her to rest as Josiah lay unconscious and bleeding by the banks of Onion Creek. When she appeared to him, she was spending her first night in the grave.  What of the vivid recurring dream Sarah Hornsby had? The distance between where Josiah had lain under the big post-oak tree to Hornsby's Fort takes about 2 1/2 hours to walk. From the time his sister Margaret appeared to Josiah until Sarah had the dream the first time? About 2 1/2 hours.
 

Postcard From Medicine Mound, Texas - Ghost Town

In southeastern Hardeman County in West Texas is the interesting little ghost town of Medicine Mound. The town was named after the four nearby cone-shaped dolomite hills which rise 350 feet above the prairie and were called Medicine Mounds by the Comanche Indians. The hills have flat tops which the Indians considered to be the home of powerful, but benevolent spirits and they used these hill tops to hold sacred ceremonies and to mix medicinal herbs so the spirits would make the curative powers even stronger.

Medicine Mound once had a population of 500 with 22 businesses, including a newspaper called "The Citizen." A devastating fire in 1932 destroyed most of the buildings in downtown and with the exodus of people already started for better job opportunities in larger towns, few of the burned-out businesses rebuilt. By 1940, there were only 6 business properties still open to serve the remaining 210 residents. 

The Medicine Mound school was closed in 1955 and the handful of students traveled to Quanah to continue their formal education. With a population less than 100, the post office and all but one store, the Hicks-Cobb General Store, closed down in the late 1950's. In 1980 there were still 50 residents in the vicinity, but these were mostly older people who still lived and worked on the farms and ranches around the area. 

Bluebonnets and cactus in Medicine Mound

Today the population is zero. The dilapidated remains of an old house and the shell of the W.W. Cole building, a combination drug store, bank, and gas station remain somewhat standing. The Hicks-Cobb General Store also remains, but it was turned into a regional history and cultural museum by the now aged daughter (born in 1927) of the former owner and is not in much better shape than the other 2 buildings. The museum was supposed to be open every Saturday from 10:00 - 2:00, but during my visit on a Saturday during those hours, it wasn't open, not a single person was anywhere in sight, and judging by the deep layer of dust which covered everything viewable through the window, it hadn't been opened or attended to in a good long while.

The old W. W. Cole building with the gas pumps still
standing sentinel

Medicine Mound doesn't have much of an interesting history. No bad men robbed the bank, nobody was murdered there, it had no notorious residents and there aren't even any mysterious ghost stories about the small cemetery where a few of its residents remain resting in peace. It was just a quiet little town where normal everyday people lived and dreamed and died. And then, having served its purpose, Medicine Mound died too.

The town "Necessary Room"

The only remaining house in Medicine Mound has
seen better days

I wonder what happened to the people who
lived here. Did they live full, happy lives
until death took them to a new home or did
their dreams die and they simple pack up
and leave without looking back?

At one time this was someone's pride and joy. Iris flowers
were lovingly planted around the property.

Florida Lovebugs Massacre

I've mellowed a lot since my youthful days, especially now that I'm old enough to realize the truth of the statement that it's not worth it to sweat the little things and most things are little things. I'm mostly a peaceable person not wishing harm on anyone or anything, but there are a few exceptions. One exception is snakes. Most truly rational people feel the same as me - the only good snake is a dead snake. I've heard there are good snakes, but I haven't met one. If you are one of those people who like snakes, sorry, but you are weird and you will not be able to change my mind. Other exceptions are mosquitoes, gnats, chiggers, leeches, and ticks. The world would be so much better off without any of those. If you are reincarnated back as one of those things, you must have been really, really bad in your former life. There is one more exception, the Lovebugs in Florida. They don't bite or sting or eat your food growing in the vegetable garden or cause some strange, fatal disease, but when it comes to the annoyment factor, they wear the crown.

If you don't know the creature I'm speaking about, consider yourself lucky. They are small, black and orange lightweight bugs that mate in the air while flying. The female is less than 1/2" long and the male is about 1/2 of her size. They mate tail-to-tail (they are so repulsive looking they can't even stand to look at each other while having sex) and the female slowly flies around pulling her little fella behind her. This might explain why they don't fly smoothly, but seem to lurch around in the air and constantly fly into things. You very rarely, almost never, see one alone as the only time you see them is during the spring and fall mating seasons when they do nothing but mate and fly around while doing it. The little annoying buggers don't even eat, they just have sex constantly.

A while back, I made the unfortunate decision to visit Florida during the Lovebug mating season. When I was in the US Navy, I went to boot camp in Orlando during Lovebug mating season and then I lived in Florida for almost a year while attending a Naval school so I know about the Lovebugs, I had just forgotten about them and their seasons when I scheduled my trip. It won't happen again.

In boot camp in Orlando, Florida in the spring and summer months, there is a lot of physical activity in very hot, humid weather. You sweat a lot, a whole lot. You stand at attention in the hot sun for long periods of time while one instructor or another screams curses at you letting you know just how worthless you are and how you will never, ever be good enough to actually become a sailor in the United State's Navy. And you sweat. While you are standing there ramrod straight and absolutely motionless, the Lovebugs in their sexual ecstasy or sheer stupid clumsiness cannot avoid you and fly right into your stationary head. And there they stick in the sweat dripping down from your newly shorn, almost bald head. The bugs are so weak they can't even extricate themselves and fly away, they just crawl around, one trying to walk one way and the other trying to walk in the opposite direction. They crawl up your nose, in your ears, across your eyes, they flow down your shirt collar trapped by the sweat running down your neck. Little buggy feet crawling around causing itching and you know they are there and you can't do anything about it but endure because you are standing at attention and the slightest movement will result in screaming directed at you individually and even more exercise. Every day I heard, "Don't you dare touch those Lovebugs! Those are the Captain's Lovebugs and if you touch something that belongs to the Captain, you will be dead meat!" I endured and I came to hate Lovebugs.

During my fateful Florida trip. Lovebugs came swarming out of the woods and marshes by the trillions. Paired up to make even more of themselves, they stupidly flew their way over the highway and there I took my gleeful revenge. Their little squishy bodies covered the front bumper and grill of my truck and piled up on my windshield so thick I had to keep spraying windshield washer and employing the wipers just so I could somewhat see the road ahead through the goop. I had to stop twice just to fill up the washer fluid and clean the wipers. I knew later I would have a heck of a job cleaning my truck of all those squished bug bodies, but remembering the absolute misery they caused me those many years ago, I loved the massacre.

The First Shot of the Civil War

Cadet William S. Simkins

Just northeast of today's downtown Dallas, Texas is the historic Greenwood Cemetery. Famous for the many icons of history buried within its grounds, it is perhaps even more famous for the numerous cemetery scenes filmed there for the popular TV series Walker, Texas Ranger which starred Chuck Norris and ran from 1993 - 2001. One of the more obscure burials here is that of Confederate veteran William Stewart Simkins.

William was born on August 25, 1842. On January 9, 1861, he was a senior cadet at the Citadel, a South Carolina military academy. At daybreak, he and several other cadets were manning a battery overlooking the Charleston Harbor. Standing watch that morning, he saw a signal from a guard boat and quickly sounded the alarm, waking up his fellow cadets. They spotted the Union ship Star of the West attempting to resupply Fort Sumter. A cannon was loaded, aimed at the supply ship, and William fired. It was the first shot of the Civil War. (see The Civil War Ended in Texas for who fired the last shot.)

William Simkins

William and his classmates were graduated early on April 9th. Just 3 days later on April 12, 1861, he participated in the bombardment of Fort Sumter, the first battle of the Civil War. William served as an artillery officer and then Inspector General throughout the conflict, finally surrendering as a colonel in the army of General Joseph Johnston in North Carolina in 1865.

Simkins moved to Florida after the war, studied law and passed the bar exam in 1870. He move to Texas in 1873 and eventually joined the law faculty of the University of Texas. After a long and successful law career, he passed away in Dallas on February 27, 1929. 68 years after he fired the first shot of the Civil War.

Simkins Family Plot in Greenwood Cemetery

Grave of William Simkins

Tale of Texas Bluebonnets

In a time long, long ago, before the white man came and only the Indians roamed the land that would one day become Texas, a great drought fell upon the country. The Springs had been nothing but dust, the Summers parching heat. Only small brown leaves hung on the trees and the grass was little but dust in the Falls. The Winters were nothing but bitter cold and starvation for man and beast. Now it was time for Spring again, but no rains came and the drought persisted. Even the hardy buffalo were suffering with many nothing more now than bones on the prairie. The jack rabbits had all but disappeared and the coyotes were famished.

It was clear to The People that the Chief of All Spirits had turned his face away. Without stop, Medicine Men chanted incantations, danced to tom-toms, and covered themselves in dust. Warriors with knives cut their own flesh and spilled their blood upon the ground. The women and children hid and didn't speak. A great fear was upon all The People for they knew they must have done some great misdeed for the spirits to have turned against them so. They knew such a wrong must be atoned for and forgiven before the rains would come back and bring life to the world once again. The many tribes came together in a great council to listen to the medicine men to seek guidance.

After many days of dancing sacred dances and chanting sacred words, the oldest and strongest medicine man of them all went alone into his tepee to light a sacred fire, to breath the sacred smoke and to engage in a powerful vision quest. At last the Chief of All Spirits heard The People. Speaking through the medicine man, he instructed The People to make a burnt offering of their most prized possession and the ashes of the offering must be scattered to the four cardinal points of Mother Earth; the north, the south, the east and the west. Drought and famine would remain upon the land until such a sacrifice was made.

On the very outer edge of the assembled people that night was a little girl listening carefully to the words of the revered medicine man. As he finished speaking and The People dispersed, she said not a word, but she knew in her heart that she held tightly clasped in her hands the most valued possession among The People. 

It was a beautiful doll her mother had made and lovingly placed next to her on the cradle board the very day she had been born. Made of bleached buckskin, it was crafted in the image of an Indian princess. The eyes, nose, mouth, and ears were carefully painted on with the juice of the blackberry. The leggings were beaded with small pieces of polished bone and colored seeds. It had a belt made of wildcat teeth strung on twisted hair from a buffalo tail and upon its head was a bonnet made of the bright blue feathers of the crested Blue Jay. No mother could love their own child more than this little girl loved her blue-bonneted doll; no price could have tempted her to part with it. Her heart was heavy as she realized her most precious doll must also be the most valued possession of her people.

Later that night, the council fires burned out and the families retired to their tepees. The stars were twinkling, but there was no moon and in the dark, after the last lonesome wail of the coyote had fallen silent, the little girl lay on a blanket near the open flap. She hugged close the little doll and talked to it in almost silent whispers, speaking of her deep abiding love and how she would hold the doll in her heart for all time. Finally, when all was quiet except for the snores of the slumbering warriors and even the ever vigilant owls had closed their eyes in sleep, the little girl child silently rose from her bed and made her way on ever so quiet feet to the place of the council fire. There she spotted a stick of wood which still burned under the ashes and carefully holding it by the unburned end, made her way from the camp to the edge of a dried lake nearby.

Stopping beside some dead bushes, she prayed to the Chief of All Spirits that her offering would be acceptable. As tears streaked her little face, she gathered twigs from the bushes and lay them on the burning stick. With the small fire burning, she told the doll once more of her love, dried her eyes and with great resolve, thrust the doll headfirst into the flame. The smell of burning buckskin and feathers was strong, but there was no wind and the scent did not wake anybody. The little doll burned until eventually there was not a scrap left. The little girl gently scooped up the ashes and in the manner told by the medicine man, scattered the ashes to the north, to the south, to the east, and to the west. She wanted to be near all that was left of her beloved doll so she lay down on the blanket she had brought with her, positioning her bed in the middle of the scattered ashes. It took what seemed to be a long time, but the little girl finally fell asleep.

Just before daylight, the girl awoke as she felt drops of water on her face. It was still too dark to see well so she turned over and felt on the ground around her. Against her fingers  she felt something as soft as the feathers of the bonnet on her doll. Then she smelled something she had never smelled before, a new sweet fragrance that somehow raised her spirits and made her feel good. 

She jumped up and ran to her family's tepee, "Oh Mother, come, please come!" Without a word, her mother arose and took her daughter's hand. As they stepped out, the mother was surprised to feel a light rain falling upon them, yet on the horizon, shining through a break in the clouds was the sun's rays signalling a new day's beginning. The child led her mother to the dried up lake where puddles of water were already beginning to form. There, all around the bushes where she had scattered the doll ashes, was a blue as intense as indigo and under that layer was another layer of blue as soft and shining as any spring-fresh feather of the bird which cries, "jay, jay, jay!" The little blue flowers were so thick they almost hid the small green leaves of the plant.

The little girl told her mother of her sacrifice and her mother told her daddy and her daddy told the men of the council. Soon, all of The People came in the rain to see the miracle. The medicine man proclaimed it to be a sure sign.

For the next three days and nights the gentle rains fell and for the rest of the Spring and Summer, warm rains fell as before. Trees and bushes sprouted leaves. The grass grew green and thick. Birds sang and built nests. Game animals came back and grew fat. While the men hunted, the women planted corn and pumpkins and everything that was planted grew. All of The People were happy and grew plump in preparation for the lean months of the coming winter. The men sat around campfires at night and the women sat behind them as they told wonderful stories of the little girl and her sacrifice.

Soon after the Chief of all Spirits had accepted her offering, the medicine man called together all of The People. He announced the little child who until then had not been given a name, would thereafter be called, "One-Who-Dearly-Loves-Her-People." Every day, she would go to the field of beautiful blue flowers which had come in exchange for her doll with the blue-feathered bonnet. She saw the flowers develop little pods of seeds and then the little green leaves and the stalks turned brown. She still came every day and eventually saw the dried seed pods twist and with a little crack, open and shoot out their seeds. 

Today, in the spring of the new year when the mockingbird begins singing in the moonlight, bluebonnets line the roads and grow in profusion in the pastures making the landscape of Texas unique and truly beautiful. And those who know how this came to be remember in their hearts a special little girl who made a great sacrifice, One-Who-Dearly-Loves-Her-People.

The Hanged Man Who Refused To Die

In 1890, after the Ku Klux Klan was somewhat disrupted and driven under ground, another organization called the Whitecaps was formed in Mississippi to "put down criminality and petty thievery among the blacks."  The members swore in blood never to reveal its secrets. Unlike the KKK, the Whitecaps rarely used violence, but the scare tactics they used were enough to keep the African-Americans terrorized.

In 1893, for some infraction that has been lost to history, the Whitecaps in Marion County took physical action against an African-American employed as a servant by a member of the group. The man was severely flogged while his employer, Will Buckley, was out of town and had no knowledge of the group's action. When Buckley returned and discovered his servant had been flogged, he became enraged at the uncalled for violence and the secrecy with which it was carried out. He decided to reveal the whole affair to the authorities and expose the secrets of the Whitecaps at the next meeting of a Grand Jury. Buckley's intentions became known to the leaders of the Whitecaps so when the jury met, the Whitecappers were there to watch the moves of everyone who might testify against the organization. As a result of Buckley's evidence and testimony, an indictment was brought against the 3 Whitecap men who had carried out the flogging.

On his way home from the courthouse, accompanied by his brother Jim and the flogged man, all on horseback, Buckley was traveling down a secluded forest road. With Will Buckley in the lead, they were crossing a small stream when a man jumped out from the underbrush and fired a pistol at them. With a moan, Will swayed in his saddle and then fell to the ground dead. The other 2 men spurred their horses and even though the assassin emptied his gun firing at them, managed to escape unhurt.

A short distance down the trail on which Will was killed was the Purvis home. Although only 19, Will Purvis was rumored to be a member of the Whitecaps. Two days after the slaying, bloodhounds were taken to the place of the murder and with some coaxing, picked up a cold scent which led the handlers into a field near the frame house the Purvis family called home. A neighbor who owned land on both sides of the Purvis holdings had for years tried to buy them out, but the elder Purvis refused to sell. This neighbor confirmed to authorities that young Will was a member of the Whitecaps and he was almost positive it had been him who had shot Buckley. Desperate to make an arrest and solve the crime, Will was arrested and charged with murder.

The arrest threw citizens of the county into two camps. Buckley had been well liked, being known to be fair in his dealings with others and for helping folks in need, but Will Purvis was also well liked, having grown up there and known to be kind and hard-working. Many said it couldn't have been Will who carried out such a terrible deed; he was too kind and just didn't have it in him.  

At the trial, Jim Buckley, the state's key witness, testified that he and the servant had witnessed the killing of his brother. When asked if he could name the man who did the killing, he pointed his finger at Will Purvis and said, "That's him. That's the man who killed my brother." Even though several men of good character substantiated Purvis' alibi of being several miles away with them planning a group picnic at the time of the killing, Jim's testimony along with Will Purvis admitting he had joined the Whitecaps 3 weeks before the murder was enough for the jury to find him guilty. 

At the reading of the verdict, Purvis once again declared his innocence. At the request of his attorney, each member of the jury was asked how he voted and Will looked on in dismay as each one replied, "Guilty." As the last juror answered the same as the rest, Will said, "I am innocent of this crime. I swear, I will outlive everyone on the jury who has wrongly found me guilty." 

Following the law, Will was sentenced to die by hanging. His attorney appealed, but 6 months later, the Mississippi Supreme Court upheld the sentence. Several days following the Supreme Court's decision, Will was escorted under heavy guard to the gallows in Columbia. Five thousand people came to Columbia on horseback, in wagons, carts and buggies. When the appointed hour came, many in the crowd were crying as Will was led up to the scaffold. After the minister finished praying for his soul, the sheriff asked Will if he had any last words. The crowd was silent, expecting a final confession, but Will stated, "You are taking the life of an innocent man, but there are people here who know who did commit this crime. If they will come forward and confess, I will go free and an innocent man will be spared." Nobody came forward as the rope was placed around the boy's neck. The minister loudly proclaimed, "God save this innocent boy!" just as the trapdoor was sprung beneath Will's feet. Purvis dropped and then with a sharp jerk, the hangman's knot slipped and Will fell to the ground with no more injury than a slight rope burn around his neck.

Horror gripped the crowd as Will, his hands and feet still bound, stood up and looked around. Incredibly, he hopped up onto the first step of the scaffold, turned to the sheriff and said, "Let's have it over with." Many women in the crowd began screaming and crying even louder as some of the men began shouting it was divine intervention that had saved the young man. The sheriff said, "This man was sentenced to hang and hang he will" as he ordered the officials to prepare to hang him again. The doctor on hand refused to have anything more to do with the procedure. He had been known for expressing his feelings against the Whitecaps, but all along he had not believed Purvis was guilty. As the doctor prepared to walk away he said, "I will not have any part of this damn thing. This boy's been hung once too many times already."

When the doctor made his statement, many of the crowd cried, "Don't let him hang!" Others in the crowd were just as loud though as they shouted, "Hang him!" Suddenly, the Reverend held up his hands and as the shouts faded, all eyes turned to him. He shouted, "All who want to see this boy hanged a second time, hold up your hands." There was complete silence and only a few hands were raised. The Reverend then said in a quiet voice, "All who are opposed to hanging Will Purvis a second time, hold up your hands." Almost every hand went up. The crowd who had come to see life taken from a man now were virtually united in calling for his release.

The officials were unsure what to do. It was their duty to carry out the punishment, but how could they go ahead against the will of five thousand people staring at them? Once again the sheriff ordered the officials to prepare to hang Will again. At this, the doctor called out to the sheriff, "I do not agree with you. If I were to call for the help of 300 men to prevent the hanging, what would you do?" As shouts of agreement with the doctor rose from the men in the crowd, the sheriff realized that in such an event he would be helpless. The doctor then took several steps up the gallows and quietly said to the sheriff, "And I am ready to it it now." At this, the sheriff ordered the hanging to be stopped and the prisoner to be escorted back to jail.

The question of whether or not Will Purvis could be hanged again was taken to the State Supreme Court. The court decided that just because the noose had slipped was no reason the law should not be followed to completion. The court stated that Purvis had been found guilty, there was a witness against him and to free him or commute his sentence to life in prison would establish a dangerous precedent. His date of execution was set for July 31, 1895.

Indignation over the ruling of the court ran high with most people now believing Will was indeed innocent. During the night of July 30, 1895, the night before Will was to be hung a second time, there was strangely only one deputy standing guard  when a group of unidentified men stormed the jail, overpowered and tied up the deputy without harming him and whisked Will Purvis away. Several other prisoners were left in their cells and the deputy swore he could not identify any of Will's rescuers. Nobody was ever brought to trial for the jailbreak.

Will disappeared and the official search for him never amounted to much, but the case remained in the public eye so much that it was an issue in the next gubernatorial election. The candidate in favor of modifying the sentence won the election. The day after he was sworn in, Purvis voluntarily surrendered himself and, true to his word, the new governor commuted the sentence to life imprisonment. On March 12, 1896, Will began his sentence of hard labor, breaking rocks and clearing fields by hand.

Two years later, the state's key witness, Jim Buckley, the brother who had identified Purvis as the murderer, recanted his testimony and said in his grief and desire for revenge, he had identified Will because everyone thought that's who did it. Since Jim was the main reason Will had been convicted, a new trial was ordered and without an eye witness, a new verdict of Not Guilty was rendered. Will was released from prison and on December 19, 1898, after thousands of letters came into the governor's office requesting a pardon for Will, the governor issued the requested full pardon. 

In time, Will married his childhood sweetheart and they had 7 children. He became a prosperous farmer and life with his family was good, but there was still a cloud over his happiness as he had never completely been vindicated of the murder of Will Buckley.

In 1917, Joe Beard, a long-time resident of the community attended a rousing revival meeting of the Holy Rollers. The charismatic preacher emphasized the importance of the public confession of sins. Joe came forward to join the church and declared he had long been suffering from the weight of a terrible sin. He would say no more at that time, but a few months later he became seriously ill. When the doctor told him he should prepare to meet his maker, Beard called his minister and several friends to his bedside to hear his confession. He stated that in 1893, he was one of 4 Whitecaps who met in secret to discuss Will Buckley's intention of revealing to the Grand Jury the secrets of the Whitecaps organization. Three of them decided that Buckley should be killed to protect the guilty members. The fourth person was a young man of only 19 years who had just recently joined the Whitecaps and he flatly refused to have anything to do with such a dastardly thing. He promptly renounced his membership, quitting the group and returning home. That man was Will Purvis.

The three remaining men drew lots to see who would carry out the murder. Joe and a man named Louis Thornhill drew the short straws. The two men built a brush blind on the side of the creek by the trail they knew Buckley would take coming home from town. They laid in wait until the three intended victims came into sight. Beard said Thornhill jumped out and fired the shot that killed Buckley, but Beard, who was also supposed to jump out and begin firing, had lost his nerve and never moved from his hiding place in the brush. This had allowed Jim Buckley and the servant to escape. The reverend got a pencil and paper and began writing down his story, but before he could finish it and get Beard to sign it, Beard took his last breath and died.

Beard's confession completely cleared Purvis of the murder. In an ironic twist of fate, Thornhill, who was advanced in age but still alive, could not be brought to trial as the deathbed confession could not be used in court since it was not signed. Thornhill, who had years before moved to an isolated cabin in the woods, remained in his cabin, but was never seen in town again. A year later, his body was discovered on the floor of his cabin by a hunter. No cause was given for his death.

In 1920, the state of Mississippi appropriated $5,000 to Purvis as compensation "for suffering endured and for services done and performed in the State penitentiary under the provision of an erroneous judgement. The state of Mississippi confesses to a great wrong done to Will Purvis and now removes all stain and dishonor from his name."

On October 13, 1938, twenty-one years after his exoneration, Will Purvis died of natural causes - 3 days after the death of the last juror who had found him guilty.

Mystery of Leather Man

Years ago, people were much more accepting of the odd ones among us, the mysterious ones, the different ones, the ones who we now say "aren't quiet right" and call upon the police to remove. In the early 1860's, just such a person made his first appearance in Connecticut and New York - the legendary Leather Man.

Historical picture of Leather Man

A wandering vagrant started making an appearance in certain towns and settlements  in 1862. He rarely spoke, never saying more than a couple of words at a time and even then it was mostly in French with an English word or two thrown in. He never told anyone his name and when someone asked about his background or what he was doing, he would mumble an unintelligible word or two and quickly move on. Just as peculiar was his clothing; dressed from head to toe in crude pieces of thick leather which had been hand-stitched together with leather thongs. It was a suit of clothes that weighed over 60 pounds, yet he wore it all year without fail, in summer heat and the bitter cold of winter. For lack of a better name, everyone began calling him "Leather Man."

Over time, people began noticing this strange man would return every 34 days. As a matter of fact, he would return to the same exact place within 10 minutes of the same time he had been there exactly 34 days earlier. No matter if storm, rain or snow, his appearances were on such a consistent schedule that you could almost set your watch by it. Eventually the more curious began following him and finally pieced together that Leather Man walked a circuit of 365 miles, always traveling clockwise. For his nightly shelter, he had a number of small caves which he had outfitted with a circle of rocks to enclose a fire and leaves and small twigs for a bed. Every morning before leaving, he would gather an armload of wood and leave it inside the cave where it would remain dry and ready for his next time there. 

Leather Man's route

As his appearances continued, many people took it upon themselves to feed and assist the harmless, always smiling odd man. With almost the exact time known when he would be in a particular spot, housewives would have a home-cooked meal prepared for him. Leather Man always accepted food and water with a smile, a small little bow of gratitude and grunt of thanks before hurrying on his way to keep to his schedule. Some of the men offered tobacco and matches which he also accepted in the same manner. Several school houses along his route would award their "Student of the Month" with the privilege of carrying a meal out to Leather Man as he passed by. It became a mark of pride among the students as to who would get to hand the meal to him every 34 days. However, he always refused money, alcohol or clothing and he never took up anyone on an offer of accommodation in their home for the night. 

In the winter of 1888, a severe blizzard struck Maine with day after day of below-zero weather and multiple feet of snow. Through it all, Leather Man continued walking his route, but for the first time in 26 years, he fell behind his schedule. With what was considered super-human will and endurance, he trudged through the howling, freezing winds and fought through the mounds of snow and arrived within a few hours of his usual time. People begged him to come in and take shelter at their fire, but he would just shake his head and kept plowing forward. After the storm had passed, he had completed his journey in 36 days rather than the usual 34 and people noticed he had a large black spot on his lip, a sure sign of frostbite. The Connecticut Humane Society heard about it and had him arrested and taken to a hospital for treatment. When his guard briefly turned his back and before a doctor could see him, Leather Man made his escape and resumed his walk through the woods. Other lawmen along his route refused to arrest him as he had never broken any laws and from then on he was left alone to continue his curious habit. 

One of Leather Man's caves

Leather Man maintained his punctual pacing and strange practices for 27 years. On March 24, 1889, he didn't make his expected appearance in Ossining, New York and people became worried. A search party found him dead in his cave where he had spent the night before. No foul play was evident and it was thought he had died of natural causes. The hardship and exposure he had suffered in the previous year's blizzard was thought to be a contributing factor in his death. He was buried in a shallow grave in a simple pine box just off Route 9 outside of Ossining. A collection was taken and a headstone was placed at his grave.

In 2011, Route 9 was scheduled to be widened so Leather Man was exhumed to be moved further away from the road and into a nearby cemetery. When his grave was dug up though, only a few coffin nails were found with no sign of his body. A new pine box was made and the nails along with some of the dirt from his first grave were placed in the new coffin which was buried in the cemetery. A new headstone was erected which simply says, "Leather Man."

Today there are legends about his true identity, but nobody has obtained any proof and he officially still remains unknown. There are stories about treasures supposedly buried in his caves, but the caves are well known and many people have dug in and around them with no treasure found. There have also been numerous reports over the years that his ghost continues walking along his trail, something he is damned to do for all eternity. Some have reported mysterious lights glowing in his caves at night, but actually, more than 150 years after his first appearance, only a huge mystery remains. Who was Leather Man? Where did he come from? Where was he and what did he do before his appearance in 1862? Why did he lead such a self-imposed solitary life? Why the particular route he traveled? Why the tight schedule? And why did he always wear only leather?

Adobe Walls & The Greatest Shot Ever

Monument at the site of the Adobe Walls battle

The place called Adobe Walls is located in a remote area of the Texas Panhandle. It was initially a small trading post consisting of several large tepees established in 1843 by William Bent and Ceran St. Vrain. The men hoped to introduce peaceful trade with the Comanche and Kiowa Indians who lived there.

For 3 years the post remained open in spite of the occasional Indian attacks on the supply trains which brought in trade goods. In 1846, after increasing hostile attacks against the post itself, a contingent of men, including a number of Mexican adobe makers, replaced the tepees with what they named Fort Adobe. The structure was 80 feet square with only one entrance and had walls 9 feet high and 2 feet thick. The hostile Indian attacks however continued to increase and trade with friendly Indians continued to decrease until in early 1848, the post was abandoned.

In the fall of 1848, a peace treaty was established with the Indians of the area and William Bent, accompanied by Kit Carson and 11 other men re-opened Fort Adobe. During that winter, the post was able to conduct business with several friendly Comanche tribes through a small window cut into a wall. By the spring of 1849 though, the peace treaty had been broken and the Comanche, accompanied by a large number of Apache, attacked the post and killed or stole most of the livestock. Bent had finally had enough. He blew up the post with dynamite and with his men and what few trade goods remained, retreated to less dangerous lands. The ruins became a landmark for those few white men brave enough to venture through the hostile country.

In 1864, the New Mexico Territory government wanted to stop Indian raids along the Santa Fe Trail. To accomplish this, they sent Kit Carson and 411 heavily armed men into Texas to punish the Indians who came into New Mexico along the trail from the Texas Panhandle.  After an attack on a Kiowa village which killed several braves and women, Carson and his army set up camp among the ruins of Fort Adobe. Due to the fact that only a couple of walls were still standing, the site had become known then as Adobe Walls. The next day, on November 25, the surviving braves from the Kiowa tribe which had been attacked accompanied by additional Kiowa from other bands and a large band of Comanche attacked the men camped in Adobe Walls. With over 1,000 fighters, the Indians outnumbered the white men by more than 2 to 1, but Carson and his men were able to fight off the attack as they had 2 cannon. When the sun set, the white men set fire to their camp, mounted their horses and made a run to safety. Carson's men only suffered 3 dead and 15 wounded and Indian casualties were light as well, but when the men returned to Fort Bascom in New Mexico, Carson was hailed as a hero for leading his men in the largest battle fought on the Great Plains. The encounter eventually became known as the 1st Battle of Adobe Walls.

Nine years later, buffalo hunters came to the plains of the Texas Panhandle. In the early 1800's, there was an estimated 50 - 60 million buffalo freely roaming the west. The Native Americans hunted them for food, clothing and other necessities. After the Civil War however, as the white man pushed farther and farther into the west, people back east demanded buffalo hide for coats and lap robes and buffalo tongue became a delicacy in restaurants. Tanneries paid $3.00 per hide and 25 cents per tongue. With a high-powered long range rifle, men like Buffalo Bill Cody, Wyatt Earp, Bat Masterson and Wild Bill Hickock could kill as many as 250 buffalo per day and make a very good living. After skinning and cutting out the tongue, the meat was simply left to rot where the animal fell. Shooting the beasts from the windows of moving trains became a grand sport and it was not uncommon for the carcasses to be strung out beside the rails for mile after mile. As the mindless slaughter continued, the Indians watched as their main source of sustenance became more and more scarce. They reacted with more attacks on settlements, wagon trains and white travelers. The U.S. government, in turn, reacted to these hostilities with the desire to separate the Indian from white civilization by placing all Indians on reservations. To do this, the eradication of the buffalo was actively sought. 

By April 1874, several merchants from Dodge City, Kansas established a large complex very near Adobe Walls to buy and ship buffalo hides and to serve the needs of the 200 - 300 buffalo hunters in the area.  Soon afterwards, a second complex of stores was established nearby and within several months, a blacksmith shop, saloon and other stores were added. Adobe Walls was again in business and active. The remaining Indians in the area understood the post and the buffalo hunters it served were a huge threat to their continued existence.

Monument to the Indian warriors who died in the
2nd battle of Adobe Walls

On the morning of June 27, 1874, a force of 700 Comanche, Cheyenne, Kiowa, and Arapaho warriors led by Comanche Chief Quanah Parker attacked Adobe Walls. The hunters and proprietors, which numbered only 28 men at the time of the attack, took refuge in two stores and a saloon. Bat Masterson and a hunter named Billy Dixon were among the men. Although vastly outnumbered, the men's superior weapons and the stout walls they sheltered behind enabled them to hold off the Indian forces for 3 days with only 4 deaths while inflicting as many as 50 deaths to the Indians.

On the 3rd day, 15 Indian chiefs and warrior leaders met for council on the side of a hill 7/8 of a mile (1,538 yards) from the post. As they sat on their horses arguing over whether to continue the battle or abandon it, Bat Masterson knowing Billy Dixon was the best long-shot among them, jokingly pointed at the Indians and said, "Hey Billy, why don't you show us how good you are? Go ahead and take a shot at those Indians with your Sharps Big-50."
 

Picture taken from the approximate site where
Billy Dixon took his incredible shot. The Indian he
shot was sitting on his horse on the side of the hill
in the center left.
 

Billy climbed up into the small loft of the store they were in, made adjustments to the long-range finder on his Sharps, took aim and fired. The heavy recoil from the gun knocked Billy backwards and he fell through the attic trap door with several boxes and other items falling on top of him. He fell onto a table which broke apart and fortunately cushioned his fall. As for the Indians, if they noticed the white puff of smoke from the loft window, they no doubt chuckled at the stupid white man wasting powder and lead due to the impossible distance. If they were quiet, 4.1 seconds later they would have heard the distant bang of the Sharps. No doubt they were shocked when 1.2 seconds later one of the chiefs was hit and knocked from his horse. They hurriedly picked up the mortally wounded chief and rode further away and behind the hill.

Perhaps they considered it an evil omen or perhaps they just wisely decided they no longer wanted to try and fight against men who could shoot with such accuracy from so far away, but they gathered up their warriors and horses and rode away to fight another day. The 2nd Battle of Adobe Walls had concluded and Billy Dixon went down in history for making one of the most remarkable shots ever.
 

Billy Dixon

Today, nothing remains of Adobe Walls except a couple of small markers, monuments, and the lonely grave of Billy Dixon. Billy died of pneumonia in 1913 and was buried in Texline, Texas, but was dug up and reburied in Adobe Walls in 1929. Even the small fresh-water spring which had provided life-giving water to the Indians, buffalo hunters and traders has completely dried up and vanished. The site is in no danger of being found accidentally as you have to travel miles down a pot-holed, 2-lane black-topped road out of Spearman, Texas, a nice little town of 3,000 which itself is pretty much in the middle of nowhere, to a gravel road barely wide enough for 2 cars to pass each other as long as one  of you moves over on the side off the road, to a 1-lane dirt road usually not shown on even the most detailed maps. Don't even think about driving this if the ground is still wet from a rain. After about 15 miles of nothing but cows - no other cars, no people, no houses, you come to a gate across the road. The gate is not attached to a fence, it is just a gate across the dirt road blocking you from going further down the road. Right before you unexpectedly reach this gate are the monuments of Adobe Walls. 

The lonely grave of Billy Dixon

Stopping at the gate, to the left almost a mile away is the hill where the Indians thought they were safe but Billy proved they were not. While my friend and road trip partner Chip and I were there, a few cows were standing around and there were so many "cow pies" it seemed the ground was covered with them. The isolation and silence was complete with not even a plane overhead to break the peace. It was easy to picture in your mind how this place looked long ago as the landscape hasn't really changed for hundreds of years. As we walked around taking a few pictures, mostly taking in the surroundings, we hardly spoke and even when we did, it was in low voices as if it would be sacrilegious to break the church of silence and solitude we found ourselves in. 

After some time had passed, my buddy was off a ways from me absorbed in his own thoughts so I walked across the dirt road toward the Indian's hill in the distance. On a whim, I reached down and grasped a dry cow pie and heaved it toward that hill. For a couple of seconds it went flying through the air like a Frisbee and I wondered just how far that thing would go. But then a little gust of wind blew and the cow pie Frisbee wobbled in the air and fell. It rolled a little ways, but then bumped up against several of it's own kind and stopped. It was once again just another cow pie among thousands. Several nearby cows looked at me for a few seconds and then, losing interest, turned their heads and ambled away.

Getting back to the truck, I quietly asked Chip if he was ready to head back. "Yeah, I'm ready," he answered just as quietly. I opened a new package of wet wipes, cleaned my hands and started the engine. It was probably the loudest noise those cows had heard in a good many days. We pulled a U-turn and headed back the way we had come. A cloud of dust followed us as we drove down that dirt road, but there were only cows to see it.

Fake Jesse or Real Jesse?

Death photo of Jesse James or Charley Bigelow?

According to a lot of seemingly knowledgeable people, Jesse James the outlaw did not die at the hands of Bob Ford in St. Joseph, Missouri on April 3, 1882. Often referred to as "America's Robin Hood," the rumors and stories that it was all staged for Jesse to escape his past and begin a new life are still being debated today. So where do these folks believe he lived out his life? In the small Texas town of Granbury.

Most know the story of how Jesse supposedly died. While at his home in Missouri, Bob Ford and his brother came to visit their friend Jesse. Unbeknownst to Jesse though, the Fords had entered into an agreement with the governor to kill Jesse for a pardon of their crimes and the reward money. Jesse removed his gun belt and turning his back to his "friends," stepped up on a chair to straighten a picture hanging on the wall. Bob quickly drew his revolver and shot the unarmed Jesse in the head and then ran from the house.

Members of Jesse's family, his friends, former members of Quantrill's Guerrillas, the doctor who prepared the body for burial, and a few citizens who had recently been robbed by Jesse all identified the body as Jesse James.  But if his death was staged, would the tight-knit James family members say it wasn't really Jesse laying there in that coffin? Would members of Quantrill's Guerrillas, men who had taken an oath to protect each other, men who had ridden with Jesse and had suffered together and fought side-by-side in some of the most ferocious, bloody, in-close and hand-to-hand battles fought during America's most in-humane war, turn on one of their brothers? The doctor who examined the body told Jesse's son that he knew it wasn't really Jesse because he had examined him 6 months earlier and found he had cataracts in his eyes. The body buried as Jesse did not have any eye problems. 

What about the citizens who had recently been robbed by Jesse? In the area at this time was a man by the name of Charley Bigelow who looked so much like Jesse James that even Jesse said "he could be my twin." Bigelow was supposedly an undercover detective for the Pinkerton Agency, but was actually committing robberies of travelers and small stores. Trying to throw off the law, he often would say, "You've just been robbed by Jesse James!" before riding off. Before fingerprints or DNA was even dreamed about, a mistaken identity is totally understandable

Many researchers claim it was Bigelow who was laid to rest under the tombstone engraved with the name Jesse James. Within weeks, Bob Ford was granted his pardon by the governor and the reward money? Well, the story has always been told that the governor got the majority of that $10,000 and Ford had to be grateful just to have gotten his pardon.

Headstone in Granbury for J. Frank Dalton or 
Jesse James? Writing at the bottom of the 
stone states, "Supposedly killed in 1882"

The story goes that friends and family members helped Jesse escape to South America until the news of his death became widely known and accepted in America. At that point, he came back and changing names as often as he changed his underwear, safely lived a law-abiding life mostly in Oklahoma and Texas. For a short time, he served as a sheriff in Oklahoma Territory and even as a Texas Ranger. In old age, he finally took the name J. Frank Dalton which is the name he died with. Why J. Frank Dalton? Dalton was his mother's maiden name and Frank was his beloved brother. The "J" was, of course, for Jesse.

   Jesse, or "J. Frank Dalton," began telling stories shortly before his death, of the exploits he had undertaken in his younger days. In many of these stories he included facts that only someone who had actually been there would know. When he died, the undertaker who performed the autopsy confirmed that J. Frank Dalton had the exact same wounds in the exact same places as Jesse James was known to have. He also confirmed that Mr. Dalton had suffered for years from failing eyesight due to cataracts.

Visitors to his grave often leave small tokens, mostly
coins, bullets, and whiskey. 

Could Jesse have pulled off one of the greatest hoaxes in American history by faking his own death? Is the real Jesse James buried in an unremarkable grave in little Granbury, Texas? According to some historians and J. Frank Dalton's headstone, perhaps he did.