Journal Notes

The Authors On the Move event held Saturday at the ballroom of the Hyatt Hotel was about the classiest thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of being involved. So often big fund raising book programs that ask the guests to dress up are disappointing. Dressing up for some writers means a T-shirt with a tuxedo jacket painted on the front of the garment, but not so with this event. Men were dressed in bow-ties and suits, women were dressed in spangling gowns. It was really something. I got a chance to wear the new western costume promising fashion designer Christian Goodwin made for me. The dress was beautiful, but I can’t imagine how women in frontier towns dressed like that everyday. I tripped on the dress going UP the stairs twice. The second time I fell I just rolled into the event. I looked like a hedgehog in silk taffeta. Lack of grace not withstanding I was glad to have been invited to participate. If nothing else it lifted me out of the nonstop misery that seems to be life these days. It’s not one thing – it’s a lot of little things that make me blue and hurt. Both my teenage nieces are pregnant and unmarried with no viable means of support. It seems like teenagers who have no right being in the baby-making business are spewing out toddlers faster than a candy conveyor belt operated by Lucy Ricardo on meth? Book sales have slowed because of the economy, family members are ill, and I can’t find the CD version of Breaking Dawn anywhere. And as always, there’s Rick. I recently tried to contact my brother Rick’s daughter in an effort to try and get beyond some of the hurt. I noticed that she had been visiting my website quite a bit and decided I’d reach out. Her name was posted on Facebook so I started there. The next day I noticed she removed herself from Facebook – almost as though she’s afraid. It’s disappointing. Who knows the lies she’s been told and believes. Lies so black they could suck the light from Las Vegas and still have enough black left over to provide a lifetime supply of turtlenecks to the Yale English department. And I know the people who have lied about my brother and my family hate to be called liars. So how about I just call them Fact Reconstructionists, Truth Managers, or Reality Stylist. Whatever they want?. The bottom line is I wanted to help ease the pain and make the bad get gone and I thought a little forgiveness all the way around would be the ticket. I guess there’s really no chance of that. I’ll just have to wait and be lifted out of this envelope of sadness with another event where I can wear my western garb and pretend my brother is okay.

It’s hard not be effected by what’s going on in the world right now. It’s a violent world we live in. Now people are walking into churches and shooting up the place. It seems like those violent acts lift shooters out of the anonymous muck into the national klieg light faster than a spot on Dancing With the Stars. And speaking about heaving things into the national klieg light, it’s hard not to notice that I’m spending my day writing about some of the west’s most notorious shots while a newscaster is reporting on some of the west’s most notorious shots. It’s a madhouse. I feel like Chuck Heston waking up in the field and seeing the chimp on top of the pony. What can be done with so many unhappy people in the world? All of us feel anonymous, powerless, and insignificant at times, but for many there seems to be no way out except to shoot it out. Maybe that’s because truly selfless acts don’t get near the publicity. “Hey, forget the guy who saved the kid in the fire, when’s Brittany Spears gonna reveal her new look?” “Will the doctor with the cure for cancer please sit down, here comes Usher!” Enough of that. I’ve got to get back to work writing about how two men unloaded their six-shooters into a wagon train of passengers. I guess it’s a good thing we didn’t have network television in the Old West. The public would be more familiar with a psychopath like Jesse James than a true hero like Bill Tilghman. Wait a minute?

I’ve been on the trail of Sam Sixkiller for several weeks now. Sixkiller was the first captain of the United States Indian Police who was shot and killed in 1880. I wanted more information about him than simply the facts of the various arrests he made and the night he died. Finally, I got a lead on a great, great, great, great, great granddaughter living in Idaho. I gave her a call and was able to learn a bit more about the man. The research part of writing a story is always the most interesting to me. I enjoy tracking down a lead and coming up with a tidbit few have heard about. That’s why I like working on Thunder Over the Prairie. All of the press packets and invitation have gone out for the launch of that book. I’m looking forward to the event at the Dodge City Public Library and the Long Branch Saloon in Dodge City. Just bellying up to the same bar where Bat Masterson and Bill Tilghman took a seat will be a treat. The message of forgiveness was the central theme yesterday in church and continued to be so throughout the day. My strongest desire is to be transformed into a person that can do what God asked with regards to forgiveness. I’m afraid that I’m such a despicable creature I’ll never be able to let go. I know that murder is born from anger and adultery from desire. I know that in the same way, the hatred of an enemy is destroyed by the love of friendship. Suppose you have viewed someone as an enemy, yet after a while they’ve been swayed by your benevolence. You will then love them as a friend. I think that Christ ordered these things not so much for our enemies as for us: not because enemies are fit to be loved by others but because we are not fit to hate anyone. I know hatred is the prodigy of dark places. Wherever it resides, it sullies the beauty of sound sense. Therefore not only does Christ order us to love our enemies for the sake of cherishing them, but also for the sake of driving away from ourselves what is bad for us. I watched an interview with a rape victim last night who accused an innocent man of the horrible act. He professed that he wasn’t involved, but no one would listen. He spent years in prison and was finally released after DNA evidence proved another man was the actual culprit. The victim met with the innocent man to apologize for what she’d done and he forgave her. She said that at that moment she could feel her broken heart actually start to heal. I want the experience of my broken heart actually healing more than I want anything. Of course in my desperate mind runs the thought that if I forgive maybe the bad will get better. Maybe things will work out as I dreamed. The Holy Spirit instantly reminds me that any forgiveness would be conditional then and not simply an act to “love my enemy”. Forgiving and expecting nothing is the key. To return evil for good is devilish. To return good for good is human. To return good for evil is divine. I ache for a healed heart.

Today I decided to take a break from court cases, statements, and loss and add the foreword actor Peter Sherayko wrote for the Buffalo Bill Cody book. It lifted my spirits and oh, how I needed that. Here it is…”I’ve got a good woman-what’s the matter with me?
What make me want to love every woman I see?” Hank Williams, Jr. In 1883, a remote cow town in Nebraska was treated to the grand opening of a show that would reign as America’s favorite for thirty years. It was Buffalo Bill’s Wild West. Kelsey Grammar holds the TV record for playing Frasier for 21 years, followed by themselves in film and TV for over 25 years, outstanding in today’s world. Yet Bill Cody was Buffalo Bill professionally for over 40 years, a role which is doubtful will ever be topped. In 1900 the Who, What and Where book was published featuring photos and biographies of kings, presidents and world leaders in business, literally hundreds of bios of the world’s most famous. Buffalo Bill is the only personality from America’s Western frontier. No Daniel Boone or Davy Crockett, Jesse James, General Custer, Billy the Kid or Wild Bill Hickok, just W.F. Cody – Buffalo Bill. His fame was so wide that he ranked with the most powerful men of all time. Virtually every American knew of Buffalo Bill: how he earned his nickname, his rides for the Pony Express, fought and befriends Indians, scouts for the U.S. Army in both the Civil and Indian Wars, performed for 10 seasons as a professional actor and all before the age of 40. When he created his “Wild West Exhibition”, Cody gave his audience their money’s worth: wild Indians, fancy roping and deadeye marksmanship, Bill himself topping them all with rifle from horseback at a full gallop, breaking dozens of glass balls thrown in the air. The crowd loved it, so did the press and dime novelists with writers like Mark Twain praising the show. In short, he out-Barnum’d Barnum. The exhibition set attendance records throughout America and Europe. Over a hundred books and articles have been written about Cody the frontiersman and entertainer. What more could be said? Well, Chris Enss has uncovered another notch in the Shakespearean life of Bill Cody. “The Many Loves of Buffalo Bill Cody.” Yes, Cody was a showman, a frontiersman, a man whose life started during the Mexican/American War and ended just as America entered the war to end all wars, World War I. Yet he was a man, a man in the truest sense of the word, one who cut his own trail and followed his own spirit guide. As a boy, he marveled at men like Kit Carson who taught him how to shoot from horseback and Jim Bridger who taught him Indian sign language. As a 10 year old he dreamed of becoming one of his buckskinned clad heroes and, by golly by gum, he did. But he was tainted with the sins of man. An eye for beauty and strength, an admirer of courage and adventure and in some circles a weakness for cigars, whiskey and women. In his own words, “Yeah, I like my cigars and whiskey and I sure do love those women.” Chris Enss gives us the stories behind many of the beauties who captivated Buffalo Bill. She gives us a clearer insight into a simple yet complicated man, a showman, Buffalo Bill and a man, Bill Cody, who became one. Yet for all of his fame, money and problems, Chris Enss gives us some clues and answers to this complex hero. It’s great how writers and researchers uncover questions that so many of we curious followers of American history have. My hat’s always doffed and a glass is raised to the hero of the west, Buffalo Bill, and now thanks to Chris, a glass is raised to her. Chris Enss is truly a woman of the West. Her previous books, mostly about women of the frontier west were enjoyable and informative. We met several years ago a mutual book signing in Tombstone, Arizona. I was impressed not only by her charm and style, but by her incredible knowledge and passion for, as Buffalo Bill said, “God’s biggest playground.” We are indeed lucky today that a whole new breed of people are influencing, educating and entertaining those of us who are interested in American History. Chris Enss is truly one who has blessed us with her knowledge and passion for stories of the West that haven’t, but need to be told.

Ride hard and shoot straight,
Peter Sherayko”

Rick has been gone from us for more than 4 years now and during that time there have been many interesting twists in the case brought against him. His former boss spoke out against him at the time and swore they were telling the truth. I’ve learned from first hand experience that this person is less than honest. I noticed that they visited my website this past week and spent more than 14 minutes reading my journal. They’ve never done that before so I called to ask what the interest was now. I was told they were merely interested in my books and wanted to know more about them. The status report for my site indicates that they arrived at my site Googling Rick Enss – not Chris Enss. The status report for my site shows they never viewed any information about my books. They lied. The authorities I’ve been passing such information on to agree the behavior is highly suspicious and are looking into the matter. I don’t think I’m safe right now, but it’s surprising how little I care. I had a hand in his downfall because I scared. I won’t make the same mistake twice. I’ll continue on with another portion of Rick’s statement today – if for nothing else than to ease my own guilt. “During my time working investigations, the Chief of Police, the Lieutenant in charge of investigations, and the Prosecuting Attorney at the time had approved a plan to establish an internet/child pornography/criminal investigation unit. I attended several courses on this type of investigation. One such class I attended was given by the Attorney General’s office from the State of Missouri. These were classes I took at the request of the supervisors who wanted the task force started. When the classes and training first began, the department did not have internet. We were just getting started and in the process of setting things up. I was not told when this unit or task force would be complete or fully operational, but was instructed to continue my training in this area of law enforcement. The problem that is huge for me is that the Chief of Police died of cancer shortly after the department moved and got internet. The Lieutenant in charge of investigations was made temporary chief and was subsequently killed in a car accident. The Prosecuting Attorney at the time is the only one left who knows about the task force. He would have testified in my defense.” I wish everyday I had let things play out and that Rick could have told his side to a jury. I talked him out of it because I was scared and now he’s gone.

Looks like I struck historical research gold today. The Oklahoma Historical Society had and article about Sam Sixkiller that included information about his personal life. Maybe now I’ll find out his thoughts regarding the problem of alcohol on the reservation where he lived. I imagine his views on the subject played an important role in how he approached his job as a law enforcement officer. Sam has quickly become a hero of mine. He was another one of those police officers of old who stood up for what was right in spite of the cost; and he backed up his convictions with a gun. I hope I’m able to find some of his great, great grandchildren to talk to. That could add another rich layer to his story. I booked more signings through the Midwest today. May and June is going to be very busy – a different book store everyday from Labor Day weekend through the second week of June. Hope Thunder Over the Prairie will be well received. I spent a portion of my evening working on a Paper Mache piece for the kids in by Bible study class and it got me thinking?. How come when you mix water and flour together you get glue?and then you add eggs and sugar and you get cake? Where does the glue go? As always I end my day thinking and praying for my brother. What happened to him isn’t unique. Thousands of families, primarily in the foster care field, are subject to the same bullying tactics. I know how Sam Sixkiller would have handled the problem. Oh how I long for the days of the early west. And now, more of the last statement my brother will ever make. “On April 9, 2002, I was at a training class for my job. I was finishing up there for the day when I received a call from home. It was my ex-wife and the local officer got on the phone and told me that my step-daughter made accusations against me. She told the authorities I had been sexually abusing her. She told them the last time I had molested her was 30 days prior to this event. I told the investigators that that was a lie. I informed them that 30 days prior to this event her mother was home. My ex-wife had time off of work and we were inseparable. But I wasn’t feeling well during this time. I was having a lot of back pain then and went to the doctor on Monday, March 11. The doctor took an x-ray of my chest and found out I had a collapsed lung. He had a tube inserted into my chest and it remained there for 10 days. That information was verified by DFS. The DFS worker told my ex-wife and I that my step-daughter had major problems with my daughter from my first marriage. She told us that she thought my step-daughter was lying about everything. She told us that my step-daughter was jealous of her step-sister and believed her capable of doing anything to drive a wedge between my daughter and I. She didn’t want my daughter from my first marriage to be happy.”

One of the three writing projects I’m working on right now is about the life of Sam Sixkiller. The extensive research into the slain lawman’s past began today. I’ll have to make a trip to Oklahoma to find out what I need to know about his personal life. All I’ve got so far is the name of his wife. I’d like to know more about the man and not just what he did for a living. I’ve reached out to the University of Oklahoma for assistance. I think this is going to be an interesting quest. I like the research part of writing. I like investigating so much I’m in the process of getting my private investigator’s license. There are a lot of secrets to be uncovered not only about the historic figures I get to write about, but about some of the people who visited my site just today. People from public libraries in the Kansas City area, locations near Wells, Maine, and St. Louis are interested in my brother’s statement. That statement continues today?. “My ex-wife’s mother had a brain aneurism in 1996 and was in a coma for several months. My ex-wife spent most of her time with her mother at the hospital in Kansas City. I moved our family out of our small 2 ½ room home and into her mother’s home. The plan was to care for her mother once she returned home. I was with the kids most of the time and alone with them throughout the evening. All of the kids were in a single bedroom with two bunk-beds. I also drove back and forth not only to work but to the city to see my ex-wife and her mother. From my ex-wife’s mother’s home we moved to a house close to my grandparents. All of the kids were upstairs with the two oldest girls sharing a room. My two other children each had a room of their own. We got a computer shortly after we moved into the house and got internet service. We allowed the kids to use it and they each had their own email addresses. My step-daughter got into trouble numerous times for being on questionable sites. She had hundreds of contacts on her instant message account and people from all over the country, especially boys, were sending her pictures. My oldest daughter and step-daughter had trouble with each other because my daughter was popular, well-liked, and had more friends than my step-daughter. My ex-wife’s was jealous of my daughter. My daughter was kind to everyone and generous. My ex-wife’s daughter was mean to many people and made fun of classmates.” More tomorrow.

I’ve spent the better part of the day working on the promotions for the release of Thunder Over the Prairie. More press packets have to go out, interviews have to be scheduled, and advertising has to be booked. I’m excited about the launch of the material and want to do everything I can to make the book a success. It’s a gloomy, rainy day though. I feel old and unappealing. Word has gotten back to me that my life might be in danger because I’ve been speaking out for my brother, but I’m not persuaded to stop. Guilt is powerful and my brother’s suffering goes on and on. I won’t quit even if it costs me my life. I remember how it began?he cried. His sobs were deep and labored. My brother’s despondent sobbing was infectious. I cried with him. He tried to speak, but all I could make out that he was saying was “please help me.” His step-daughter had accused him of molesting her. It was a despicable, life-altering claim she swore only happened whenever their were people around. Rick swore it never happened and the lie detector test bore that out. “I don’t belong here,” he wept. He was terrified and in shock. My brother was a police officer and worked on a special task force for the county Prosecuting Attorney’s office helping to track down child pornography users. The Prosecuting Attorney confirmed Rick’s position with the task force. Some of the images found on the work computer and family’s home computer were “indicative of child pornography.” Special investigators hired to review the material showed that the bulk of the images found were from a site called pedoland.com. Pedoland is a game site for children. Children take care of a computer pet. They feed and play with the puppy, kitten, or whatever baby animal they choose. My nieces used my brother’s computer often to play with their computer pets. The attorney I hired to represent Rick told me if the case went to trial that the jury would be shown a series of pornographic images and that the attorney representing Rick’s step-daughter would point to my brother and say he viewed these images and that he molested his step-child. I was told that was all that needed to be done to assure a conviction. No testimony. No opportunity for my brother to tell his side. I was told that a jury would convict based solely on those two things. The conviction rate was 97% no matter what Rick said in his defense. I was told the government wanted to make an example of Rick and give him life in prison. I was told to take a deal for 20 years. My brother was too distraught to make any decision. He could barely speak. I told him what he should do. I denied him his chance to tell his side of the story. I hope to rectify what I’ve done in the book The Deadliest Lie. I hope to give him a voice. While he could still speak clearly and write, this is in part, what he stated. “First of all I have never touched any of my children in a sexual manner. I have as a parent changed diapers, taken care of diaper rashes and such, just as any parent would. Sometime in 1994, when my step-daughter made her first accusation, we were living in a 2 ½ bedroom home. The girls shared the big room and my son was in a closet, converted to a room for him. My brother was living with us for awhile and we had his two daughters with us. Five girls slept on a set of bunk beds with two girls on top and three on the bottom. When my step-daughter made the accusation, not only did my wife and I discuss the matter, but we determined after talking that my step-daughter was really mad at her mother for working in the evenings. We also had taken my step-daughter to Children’s Mercy Hospital for a SAFE Exam. They told us she showed no signs of sexual assault.” I will continue with Rick’s statement over the next few weeks. I’ll die before I’m quiet about this injustice.

Actor Peter Sherayako (he played Texas Jack in Tombstone) graciously agreed to write the foreword for the Buffalo Bill book. Peter has portrayed Cody in a number of stage plays and he’s very good. He knows everything about Cody and has caught a few mistakes I’ve made in the manuscript. Which is good! There’s nothing worse than having a book out there riddled with inaccuracies. Readers aren’t shy about letting you know what mistakes you’ve made. They often post the misspellings, mistakes in dates, and/or photo captions on Amazon.com.. The whole world knows you screwed up. Well, maybe not the whole world, but definitely the three people who actually read the reviews on Amazon. I received an email about my high school reunion in September in Arizona. I’m a little nervous about it. I feel like I only have seven months to make something of myself. I’ll have to get new glasses before the event. The ones I have now make me look like Bea Arthur as a welder. Next week I’ll be posting sections of the book The Deadliest Accusation on the site. I can’t say I’m going to be as excited about the release of that book as I am about Thunder Over the Prairie. I want my brother’s life to have counted for something and maybe that title will help in the long run.

At long last the Buffalo Bill book is complete and is off to the editor. The working title is The Many Loves of Buffalo Bill Cody. After spending so much time researching the showman I can see why so many women were drawn to him. I suspect he was actually more dazzling than history gives him credit for being. I’m anxious to tackle my next subjects. I’ll not only be writing about Elizabeth Custer, but about the most notorious bad men and women in the Midwest in the 1800s. I’ll be writing about Kate Bender – the first serial killer in the U.S.. She lived in Kansas and is credited with cutting the throats of 20 people – one of whom was an eight year old girl. I’ll start the initial research about Kate and others like her in June. I received a very nice email from one of the librarians at UCLA. She has read a few of the titles and noted how well she liked them. Her note was very encouraging. I added some more signings to the roster for May. I’ll be at the Reader’s Corner Book Store in Rolla, Missouri on the 28th of the month. I’m looking forward to that visit. I have yet to book a rental car, airline ticket, or hotel room for the Midwest trip. I’m afraid if I don’t do that soon I’ll have to sleep outdoors and I hate the outdoors. To me the outdoors is where the car is. I’d like to lose weight before the trip too. I don’t think I’ll be successful at that. I belong to a gym, but apparently you have to actually show up in order to get into shape. That’s just as well. Gyms are filled with skinny people anyway. I’m not crazy about skinny women, because no matter how thin, they’re still always on a diet. I have a friend that’s 5’9 and 102 pounds and she’s been on Phen Fen, Metabolife, and lives on Slim Fast. Used to be she’d ask, “Do I look fat in this?” Now she says, “Can you still see me? Am I still visible to the naked eye?”