Journal Notes

The popular biography and pictorial books, entitled The Cowboy and The Senorita and Happy Trails about the famous, singing cowboy duo Roy Rogers and Dale Evans will soon become a Broadway musical starring Grammy award winning country music star, Clint Black. Emmy and Three-time Tony award winner Thomas Meehan will collaborate with Joseph Meehan on the script with original music and lyrics written by Clint Black. Executive film producer and Emmy award winning author Howard Kazanjian co-wrote the books with western author Chris Enss, which are the basis for the musical. The Package is repped by William Morris Endeavor.

Rollo Tomasi is a metaphor for the criminal who gets away with the crime. Tomasi is a purse-snatcher, murderer, false-accuser, the one never held accountable for the evil they’ve done. The Old West’s version of Rollo Tomasi was known simply as PO8. PO8 was a highwaymen and stage robber. After stole from his frightened victims he left poems behind to brag about the job he did. One such poem read as follows: “Here I lay me down to sleep, to await the coming morrow. Perhaps success, perhaps defeat and everlasting sorrow. Let come what will, I’ll try it on my condition can’t be worse, and if there’s money in that box, ’tis money in my purse.” The poem was signed PO8. Law enforcement agents in the 1870s, believe the bandit and talent less poet was Black Bart, alias Charles Bolton. Detectives finally tracked the thief to a hotel in Northern California using the laundry marks found on a handkerchief left behind at the scene of the crime. He spent six years in prison and when he got out he returned to his life of crime. Police could never catch him a second time. Rumor had it that Black Bart had been killed by police. But when highway robberies persisted and ridiculous verses scrawled on a pieces of paper and signed PO8 continued to be deposited at the scene of the crime, there was doubt the police really did their job. According to one newspaper report from 1895, PO8 stole more than one hundred thousand dollars after his so-called death. PO8 was never held accountable for those crimes. I spent my morning dealing with prison officials trying to get the situation with my brother resolved. It’s a grueling undertaking brought on by the Rollo Tomasis and PO8s in this world. Whatever can be done to hold people accountable for the evil they do I’m going to do it. Even if I have to stand alone, I will not be afraid to stand alone. I’m going to fight for real victims. I’m going to fight for what’s right. I’m going to fight to hold people who destroyed lives accountable. Now, where’s my horse?! It’s time to ride.

Miracles happen and oh, how I pray they happen soon.

In 2001, an 11-year-old girl told a judge that her father raped her, sending the man to prison for nine years. Today, she admits that she lied. Now 23-years-old, Cassandra Ann Kennedy says made up the story because she was upset with her father following her parents’ divorce, The Daily News reports. Last week, authorities in Washington state finally released the father, Thomas Edward Kennedy, who was serving a 15 year prison term. All charges have been dropped thanks to the daughter’s statement, made in January. According to The Daily News: “Reached Friday, Thomas Kennedy, now 43, declined to comment, saying he’s simply trying to get on with his life. Longview police, who investigated both the initial allegations in 2001 and the details that later exonerated Kennedy, also declined to comment and referred questions to Baur.” Cassandra Kennedy told authorities that guilt prompted her to reveal the truth, according to the  Seattle Times. Cowlitz County Prosecutor Sue Baur says that the county will not take legal action against Kennedy, partly because authorities do not want to discourage individuals in similar circumstances from stepping forward. For more on this story, visit  The Daily News.

Beverly Hills, CA – Accomplished director Walter Hill is preparing to deliver another western to film audiences with the adaptation of the book Thunder Over the Prairie.  Published by Globe Pequot Press, Thunder Over the Prairie is the gripping, true tale of a murder in Dodge City in 1878 – and how legendary lawmen chased down the killer. Thunder Over the Prairie was written by Emmy award winning, executive producer Howard Kazanjian and western author Chris Enss. Hill, whose film credits include Broken Trail, the Long Riders, and Geronimo, will be writing the screenplay and directing the film. He recently completed directing the Sylvester Stallone movie Bullet to the Head.

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Depending on what newspaper you read, these men were either assassinated or killed in a fair fight.

Talking heads on news programs and morning radio shows have been voicing their outrages about the manipulation of a 911 call made by George Zimmerman in Florida.  An NBC affiliate edited the 911 call to sound vastly different from the actual report.  Whereas I appreciate the fury over the fact that news corporations report current happenings with half-truths, innuendos, and outright lies, their methods are not new.  Newspapers as far back as 1881, (and I’m sure it goes back even further than that) have reported on stories based more on what they want people to think than what actually occurred.  More than one newspaper covered the gunfight at the OK Corral in Tombstone, Arizona, in October 1881, and each one had a different take on what went down.  Some newspapers were more biased towards the Earps and others were biased toward the Clantons and the McLaurys.  I’ve had personal experiences with misleading news coverage in the Kansas City, Missouri area.  I have about as much faith in their ability to do their job correctly as Andy Taylor had in Barney Fife.  There is a reason Andy made Barney keep his  bullet in his pocket and not in his gun.  He could hurt someone if the gun was loaded!  KMBC-TV should keep their microphones and  cameras in their pockets because they can and have hurt people.  When my brother Rick was arrested in 2006, the reported said that he had been “hanging around schools picking up young girls.”  The truth was that Rick was at the school at my brother and sister-in-laws’ request, to pick up his two nieces and take them home.   KMBC-TV used a half-truth and innuendo to sensationalize their story.  They also claimed my brother had prior arrests.  My brother’s last name is spelled E-N-S-S.  A background report was done by the authorities for a Richard E-N-N-S and that name did show as having prior arrests, but to affix that claim to my brother was a flat out lie.  The truth was my brother had no prior arrests or convictions.  KMBC-TV also claimed that Rick shook uncontrollably when he was led into the courtroom because he was “petrified.”  The truth was Rick had Parkinson’s disease and shakes uncontrollably because of his illness.  Guess no one at that station does any fact checking and why would they?  The truth is never as memorable as a lie.  KMBC-TV and its counterparts do not represent real journalism.  And if journalism schools keep kicking out reporters who’ve substituted attitude and ego in place of a reporter’s notebook newspapers, like the Kansas City Star, isn’t going to reflect real journalism either. Oh, and by the way, if you ever come across the story about Wyatt Earp’s sexual obsession with Greyhounds, just remember, all he said was, “I like dogs.”

Tombstone of Outlaw Rattlesnake Dick

If I’ve learned anything from the ordeal with my brother it’s that a lie will spread around the world before truth makes it around the block, and that truly evil people never die, they simply remarry. Which leads me to the Old West…the saga of the Western bad man contains many precarious escapes from execution or from death in battle. Frequently stories exist that such-and-such a bad man is still alive. Indeed, Curly Bills, Billy the Kids, and Jesse Jameses have popped up from nowhere in many places. These fabricated bad men “came back” are not always without grounds –some of them did come back! Ygenio Salazar, a Spanish explorer and a McSween fighter under Billy the Kid in the climatic fight of the Lincoln County war; Herbert M. Tonney, a Woodsdale warrior in the Stevens County (Kansas) war; and a Texas soldier named Sheppard, who drew one of the black beans in the Mier expedition (major battle at Cuida Mier on December 26 and 27, 1842 which ended with a costly Mexican victory)– all three of these men were shot down with bullets clear through their bodies in several places, fell on the field of battle, and feigned death. In each case their enemies inspected the bodies, ruthlessly kicking each to see if life was extinct; the ruse succeeded in saving the lives of three men, who escaped in the dark of the night. The next day, however, after the Mexicans had shot down the Texans who drew the black beans, Sheppard’s body was missing and he had left a trail of blood. So the ruthless Mexicans tracked him down and killed him, just when a wild new hope for freedom and escape had found birth in poor Sheppard’s tormented brain. However, Salazar and Tonney lived for many years after their escapes; and they thanked their lucky stars they were not detected. Gunfighter Bill Longley lived through his first hanging. Even after three doctors examined his dead body after the second hanging and pronounced him thoroughly deceased, there were many Texans who believed he was the devil incarnate and would return at any minute to descend upon their “holy-roly” meetings, marking his devastating course with death-dealing six gun slugs. Young Roy Bean was hanged my jealous California Mexicans and left for dead; they returned and found the rope but no Bean, who had been rescued by a pretty senorita. Likewise, Jesse James’ stepfather was hanged by Kansas jayhawkers and left for dead, but was rescued by friends just before expiring. There are many Californians even today who believe that Joaquin Murrieta was not killed by Ranger Harry Love in his surprise attack on the desperado’s camp. There were three Murrietas. Now, who can say which was or were killed? So convincing was the news that Polk Wells, a daring Western desperado, had been killed by a posse that his wife married a Mr. Warnica. When Polk reappeared in the flesh before his wife and their friends, they were greatly astonished. Postcards signed “Jesse James” were sent to all of Jesse’s friends saying that he was still alive, probably for no other reason than to cause a sensation. When things like these actually happened, it becomes more easily understood why many people in the Old West superstitiously believed that a bad man sometimes “comes back” from the dead.

The Old West frowned indignantly upon shooting anyone who was unarmed. Gunman Clay Allison refused to kill his unarmed avowed enemy, a Native American named Ground Owl. Marshal Wyatt Earp spared the main object of his vengeance, unarmed Ike Clanton, in the famous O.K. Corral fight. A fourteen-year-old sheepherder in Colorado and a feudist cowboy exchanged shots until the latter said, “Don’t shoot, I’m empty,” to which the boy responded, “Well, then, load up while I wait.” The cowboy started to reload, but considered that one good turn deserved another and rode off saying that he had had enough. In northwest Montana Bill Mayfield challenged a cardsharp enemy named Evans, who said, “I’m not heeled.” Mayfield snarled, “Well, go heel yourself then, and come back shooting.” In the ensuing fight Mayfield was killed, but he had abided by the code. In the Territory of Idaho a man named Clark shot another man named Raymond, who was unarmed. In the mob that hanged Clark as a result of the shooting, there were many respected citizens, who were enraged at the “murder.” It was “murder” when the deceased was unarmed and it usually ended up with a hanging bee. Hanging Bees served to hold many bad guys accountable for their misdeeds. Whenever a lawyer lied in court about someone on trial a lynch party got together to do away with the dishonest attorney. Think how few attorneys we’d have now if that tradition was still upheld. Prosecutorial misconduct is rampant throughout the United States and particular so in places like Kansas City, Missouri. Lawyers representing the federal government in courts in Jackson, Platte, and Cass County, Missouri have held onto their unscrupulous methods of trying a case. Fortunately for them the punishment for such devious actions changed with the times.

View from my hotel room in Monterey.

I took a stroll down Cannery Row in Monterey, California today, then sat for hours listening to the waves push into the shore. The beauty of the picturesque locals were not lost on me, but I admit I was thinking about Tombstone, Arizona, Dodge City, Kansas, the Reno Gang, the Dalton brothers, my brother, Kid Curry, and Wyatt Earp. I’ll be writing about all those locations and people over next few years. While doing research on the Earp book I came across a conversation Wyatt reportedly had with a wagon master he met while on his vendetta ride. The exchange between the two men was included in the movie Tombstone, but it appeared in a scene with Wyatt and Doc. The real life conversation went like this: After the wagon master found out that Earp’s brothers had been gunned down he told Wyatt, “Ain’t got law, ain’t got nothing’. Only thing between us and the animals. Always the way it goes, though. Only way to down an Illinois man is from behind. The dogs don’t dare face ‘em. Mr. Lincoln, Wild Bill, now your brothers. Illinois men all and all downed from behind by dirty dogs and democrats. Guess an ordinary man’d be out for vengeance but I don’t figure that’ll answer here. It’s a reckoning you’re after.” “If the Lord is my friend,” Wyatt responded. “Let not your heart be faint, let your arm be steel—that’s all you need of the Lord,” the wagon master encouraged him. Nothing stands in the way now from the book about my brother being released. Once the literary attorney approves the text, a date for the release will be set. In the meantime I’ll be posting one or two items from the book on the site each week. As I do that I’ll also be holding on to the wagon master’s words to Wyatt before he got rid of the men that hurt his brothers. Let not your heart be faint, let your arm be steel. That’s all you need of the Lord.

I never acquired a taste for alcohol.  By the end of this day, however, I’ll wish I  had.  In less than an hour I will know the exact fate of my brother.  I don’t think the news I’m going to get will be good.   My prayer is that God will help me get through it.  I fight the hate that threatens to overtake
any good sense I have.  Because I don’t  drink there is no way I can drown my sorrows in a good bottle of wine.  I’ll just have to learn to live with the bullet that hits my heart today and pray that the wound will heal completely in time or just kill me altogether.  If only  for a very important now I’d like to be back in the Old West.  Western settlers and nomadic cowhands could  always be assured of one thing when they traveled over the plains; a supply of  liquor was never far away.  Alcoholism was  an epidemic in the Old West.  On the frontier, the indispensable fixture of a town was the saloon, where drunken brawls and gunfights were far more savage than in Eastern cities.  Notable among our Western heroes was an alcoholic and not-so-good-guy, Doc Holliday.   He was hired to help clean up Tombstone, Arizona by Wyatt Earp, himself a former bar bouncer.  The importance of alcohol on the frontier may be gauged by the number of “whiskey towns” that grew around liquor stores.  Often located close to Indian reservations, where alcohol was outlawed, these towns flourished, as in the case of Lexington, Oklahoma, around a single
trade-drinking.  Even the Western farmer, often pictured as the very model of virtue and temperance, was subject to heavy drinking, the victim of his own mash.   With corn and rye in abundance and markets far removed, he found it considerably cheaper to convert the grain into liquor-at a cost of 20 cents a barrel- and transport it in reduced bulk.   His temptation to imbibe was sharpened by a lonely, hostile environment
and, in the brutal winters, to have an attractive confederate against the  cold.  Everyone indulged: “men, women and  children, preachers and church members as well as the ungodly.”  Besides Scripture, liquor was a source of inspiration for some Baptist ministers, whose sermons often were nothing but alcoholic tirades.  Doctors used alcohol to help them in their work too.  Whoever heard of removing a bullet without taking a few stiff drinks first?  Well, on to the bad news.  I just hope the lawyer is merciful and aims high.  Drink or no drink, this bullet to the heart is going to sting.

Old Joe might have had four legs but he was considered a hero to many travelers in the Gold Country.

I spend the bulk of my day writing about the Old West. Lately I’ve been focused on outlaws, but today I am turning my attention to the heroes. What makes a hero in my estimation is a concern for other people in need—a concern to defend a moral cause, knowing there is a personal risk, done without expectation of reward. Sitting Bull was such a hero. In an earlier time Sitting Bull might have been a great and prosperous Indian chief. But in the second half of the 19^th century he was the ruler of a dying breed. His victory over General Custer at Little Big Horn in 1876 was but a glitch in the United States drive to corral the Sioux Indians onto reservations. A medicine man and never actually a chief, Sitting Bull led a dwindling number of Sioux away from federal troops for five more years, until finally, in 1881, he and fewer than 200 remaining followers surrendered. They were held in custody for almost two years before they were placed on Standing Rock Reservation in South Dakota, near where Sitting Bull was born. Sitting Bull, a tall, solid Indian with long, black, braided hair, was put on parade in several cities and in 1885 he toured with Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show along the East Coast. But when he was on the reservation Sitting Bull stubbornly continued to stir up unrest. Even after federal authorities prohibited the ceremony, Sitting Bull encouraged Indians to perform the new Ghost Dance, which the Indians had come to believe would lead to a rebellion and would bring a savior to defeat the White Man. At dawn on December 15, 1890, about forty members of an Indian police force commissioned by federal authorities descending on Sitting Bull’s cabin to arrest him. They pulled the 59-year-old naked man from his bed and ordered him to get dressed and go with them. Sitting Bull gathered his things, but he took a long time to do it, which allowed time for a restless crowd of Indians to gather outside. By the time Sitting Bull was roughly pushed out of his cabin into the freezing weather, the crowd was angry. Sitting Bull stood waiting for his horse to be brought up. But then suddenly he yelled in the Sioux language-which the Indian officers, too, understood – “I am not going. Do with me what you like. I am not going. Come on! Come on! Take action! Let’s go!” Another leader of unrest on the reservation, Catch the Bear, pulled out a gun and fired at the top Indian officer. Lieutenant Bullhead was hit in the leg and as he fell he fired at Sitting Bull, shooting him in his left side. Another officer also shot the Indian leader, killing him instantly. Heroes often live such short lives.