Honeymooners in San Francisco

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During the late 1880s, Gold Country hostelries were literally filled with blushing brides.  Women arrived from eastern locations to wed the men they’d met through mail-order advertisements and set up house in the rich hills of northern California.  San Francisco was one of the most popular places in the country to honeymoon.  Couples found it to be a cheerful city with enough sights to occupy their time for months.  The presence of many new partners gave the location a sense of solace that helped make the mail-order pairs feel at home as well.  San Francisco innkeepers competed for the business of honeymooning couples, offering them a variety of goods and services in return for staying at their establishments.  The rivalry between the hotels was fierce and often made front-page news.

So great has become the competition between three or four of the leading city’s hotels in the solicitation for bridal couples that the most successful of the landlords in this effort presents each one of the brides who stop at his hostelry a beautiful bouquet or basket of cut flowers.  The clerk who receives the couple inquires of the bridegroom if he suspects a recent marriage – an it is seldom that a mistake is made – and then the flowers go up to the apartments engaged.

One of the most lucrative classes for the landlords is the newly married.  Beginning in October and ending in April, it is estimated that there are in the city an average all the time of two hundred pairs of brides and grooms.  The manager of the hotel which entertains most of them says he frequently has forty couples, and averages over twenty-five during the busy season.  They are, he says, the most desirable class of guests.  Always pleasant, they want the best of everything, and are given it.  This hostelry makes a feature of pleasing those people, and all embarrassments are lessened to the minimum.  Guests there are so used to seeing large numbers of brides and grooms that they are spared the stares so customary where this class is rare.

It is said to be the purpose of the great hotel company organizing here, and which intends to build a structure at a cost of $2,500,000, to arrange on floor with bridal apartments.

Matrimonial News – January 1887

 

 

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Because I’m Lonesome

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The New Plan was a mail-order catalog/newspaper that was in circulation from 1911 to 1917.  The following are a few samples of advertisements found in the September 1917 edition of the periodical.

Ad #101  Everybody says that I’m fine looking for my age; am honest, intelligent, neat and clean, kind-hearted and have a good character.  Age, 58; weight, 120; height 5 feet 2 inches; blue eyes; brown hair; fine homemaker.  Income, $200 per year.  Have real estate worth $4,000.  Object matrimony.  Will answer all letters.

Ad #102  A winsome miss of 22; very beautiful, jolly and entertaining; fond of home and children; from good family; American; Christian; blue eyes; golden hair; fair complexion; pleasant disposition; play piano.  Will inherit $10,000.  Also have means of $1,000.  None but men of good education need to write from 20 to 38 years of age.

Ad #103  Would like to get married, because I’m lonesome.  Am considered rather good looking and of a lovable disposition.  Age, 35; height, 5 feet 5 inches; weight 145; hazel eyes; brown hair; American; occupation, stenographer and bookkeeper.  Will inherit a few thousand.  Will answer all letters.

Ad #104  Lonely in Pennsylvania.  Society has no charms for me; prefer a quiet life.  Am an American lady, with common school education; well thought of and respected; age 25; height 5 feet 9 inches; weight, 155; blue eyes; light hair.  Have means of $3,000.  Wish correspondence with good natured, honest, industrious man.

Ad #105 A perfect blonde; trained nurse, wishes to make the acquaintance of a nice young gentlemen, view to matrimony; age 23, weight 124, height 5 feet 3 inches; German-American; college education, very neat dresser; will answer all letters.

 

 

 

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Object Matrimony

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Tears slid down widow Mabel Haskell’s face and fell onto the blank piece of paper in front of her.  She sat poised, pen in hand over the monogrammed stationary, contemplating her life and lamenting her cheerless state of affairs.  The sad but striking-looking woman in her late forties had no family, no children of her own, and had lost her husband of twenty-three years ten months earlier.  She was lonely and fearful that she would always remain so.

Desperate for companionship, Mabel decided to advertise for a partner.  She knew other women whose solicitation for a spouse had been answered and a handful of those were fortunate enough to marry the men who replied.  Mabel wondered if she would be as lucky.  Blinking away tears, she decided the time was right to submit an ad to the popular publication The New Plan.  Perhaps an equally lonely gentleman would read the personal plea and seek her out.  Perhaps she would find love again.

Helping eligible men and women find one another, correspond, and marry was the main goal of The New Plan.  Published in Kansas City, Missouri, the magazine’s purpose was to unite lonely hearts, with various momentary and social background, who were unable to find a desirable life partner.

Ladies especially, whose opportunities are somewhat limited as to forming acquaintances, seek the method (proposed in The New Plan) knowing that in no other way have they so much advantage.  Don’t think because you are not wealthy yourself that you cannot get a rich party to marry you.  Love is not measured in lucre.  Morality, fidelity, respectability, ambition and beauty often tip the opposing weight of wealth on the matrimonial scale.  Women in affluent circumstances are not usually seeking an increase of wealth in marriage.  The self-respecting man of means, in seeking a wife is not seeking her for the property she may have.  We get many inquiries from both sexes who have plenty of means for two and who seek life companions of true worth and not for means.  We do business with such people constantly and know whereof we speak.  The New Plan Notice – 1917

The New Plan was circulated from 1911 to 1917.  The following are samples of advertisements found in the September 1917 edition of the periodical.  The first advertisement was submitted by Mabel Haskell.

Ad #1 – I am a lonely unemcumbered widow; age 48; weight 165; height, 5 feet 6 inches; big blue eyes; brown hair; fair complexion; American; religion, Methodist.  I have property worth $30,000.  A sunny disposition; considered very good looking.  Would like to hear from some good business man.  Object, matrimony.

Ad #2 – I do not pose as a beauty, but people tell me that I look well.  Enjoy fun and social gatherings.  Age, 27; weight 138; height, 64 inches; brown eyes; brown hair; fair complexion; American; very good disposition; plain dresser, but neat.  Prefer country life.  Income $20 per month.  Matrimonially inclined.

Ad #3 – A perfect blonde; trained nurse, wishes to make the acquaintance of a nice young gentlemen, view to matrimony; age 23, weight 124, height 5 feet 3 inches; German-American; college education, very neat dresser; will answer all letters.

 

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A Husband Wanted

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The Matrimonial News, a San Francisco matchmaking newspaper, was dedicated to “promoting honorable matrimonial engagements and true conjugal facilities” for men and women through personal advertisements and was a forerunner of the matchmaking clubs and personal ads in newspapers today.  Not all of the matrimonial bureaus and agencies were legitimate, however, and many a disappointed bride or groom was left with empty pockets after contracting for a mail-order mate.

Here are a few of the ads posted in the January 8, 1887, edition of Matrimonial News.

283 – A gentlemen of 25 years old, 5 feet 3 inches, doing a good business in the city, desires the acquaintance of a young, intelligent and refined lady possessed of some means, of a loving disposition from 18 to 23, and one who could make a home a paradise.

287 – An intelligent young fellow of 22 years, 6 feet height, weight 170 pounds.  Would like to correspond with a lady from 18 to 22 years.  Will exchange photos:  object, fun and amusement, and perhaps when acquainted, if suitable, matrimony.

245 – I am 48, fat, fair, and plan on losing no weight.  Am a No. 1 lady, well fixed with no encumbrances:  am in business in city but want a partner who lives in the West.  Want an energetic man that has some means, not under 40 years of age and weight not less than 180.  Of good habits.  A Christian gentleman preferred.

241 – I am a widow, aged 28, have one child, height 64 inches, blue eyes, weight 125 pounds, loving disposition.  I am poor; would like to hear from honorable men from 30 to 40 years old:  working men preferred.

 

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Looking for Love

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In the early days of westward travel, when men and women left behind their homes and acquaintances in search of wealth and happiness, there was a recognized need for some method of honorable introduction between the sexes.  This need was readily fulfilled by the formation of a periodical devoted entirely to the advancement of marriage.  Throughout the 1870s, 80s and 90s, that periodical, to which many unattached men and women subscribed, was a newspaper called Matrimonial News.  The paper was printed in San Francisco, California, and Kansas City, Missouri.  It was issued once a week and the paper’s editors proclaimed that the intent of the material was the happiness of its readers.

According to the Matrimonial News business manager, Stark Taylor, the paper would “bring letters from a special someone to desiring subscribers in hopes that a match would be made and the pair would spend the rest of their life together.”

Fair and gentle reader, can we be useful to you?  Are you a stranger desiring a helpmate or searching for agreeable company that may in the end ripen into closer ties?  If so, send us a few lines making known your desires.  Are you bashful and dread publicity?  Be not afraid.  You need not disclose to use your identity.  Send along your correspondence accompanied by five centers for every seven words, and we will publish it under an alias and bring about correspondence in the most delicate fashion.  To cultivate the noble aim of life and help men and women into a state of bliss is our aim.

A code of rules and regulations, posted in each edition of the paper, was strictly enforced.  All advertisers were required to provide information on their personal appearance, height, weight, and their financial and social positions, along with a general description of the kind of persons with whom they desired correspondence.  Gentlemen’s personals of forty words or under were published once for twenty-five cents in stamps or postage.  Ladies’ personals of forty words or under were published free of charge.  Any advertisements over forty words, whether for ladies or gentlemen, were charged a rate of one cent for each word.

The personal ads were numbered, to avoid publishing names and addresses.  Replies to personals were to be sent to the Matrimonial News office sealed in an envelope with the number of the ad on the outside.

Every edition of the Matrimonial News began with the same positive affirmation: “Women need a man’s strong arm to support her in life’s struggle, and men need a woman’s love.”

 

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Hearts West.

Hearts West

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The promise of boundless acres of land in the West lured hundreds of men away from farms, businesses, and homes in the eastern states as tales of early explorers and fur trappers filtered back from the frontier.  Thousands more headed for California after hearing the siren call of Gold!  Tracts of timber in the Northwest and a farming paradise in the Willamette Valley of Oregon had even more people packing up and leaving home for the promised land.

The vast acres and the trees and the gold were all there, and men set about carving their place in the wilderness.  By the early 1850s, western adventurers lifted their heads and looked around and realized one vital element was missing from the bountiful western territories: women.

“A woman’s track was discovered in the road leading to Mormon Island.  The track of a woman was such a novel thing the boys enclosed it with sticks (you know women were scared in California in those days), sang, danced, telling yarns and giving cheers to the woman’s track in the dust until a late hour in the evening,” recalled Henry Bigler, third governor of California.

Eliza Farnham, recognizing that she was no beauty, nevertheless was astonished to be the target of admiring eyes wherever she went in the Gold Country in 1849.  Shocked at the dissolute lives of the largely male inhabitants of California, she conceived a plan to bring proper ladies to the West, which she saw as badly in need of the civilizing hand of women.  Her plan included a rigorous application process to guarantee only the most virtuous ladies would arrive on the good ship Angelique.  The plan was widely publicized and endorsed by clergymen and officials.  With anticipation running high, hundreds of angry bachelors nearly started a riot when just three ladies tiptoed down the gangplank in San Francisco.

In Washington Territory, where men outnumbered women nine to one in the 1850s and 1860s, a scheme to ship respectable women and families to the shores of Puget Sound was hatched by Asa Mercer.  He raised money for the first trip, traveled to the eastern seaboard, and in 1864 brought his first shipload of marriageable women to Seattle.  Only eleven women disembarked, leaving a lot of disillusioned bachelors.  Mercer’s second trip in 1866 netted a larger cargo of potential brides, but the trip was to be his last attempt at supplying a rather urgent demand.

 

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The Tale Behind Bill Tilghman’s Tombstone

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Lynn died in a gun battle with Oklahoma State Bureau of Investigation agent Crockett Long in Mandill, Oklahoma. On July 17, 1932, an inebriated Lynn confronted Agent Crockett with his pistol drawn. The agent quickly drew his weapon, and the two fired at one another at the same time. Both Agent Crockett and Wi“He died for the state he helped create. He set an example of modesty and courage that few could match, yet he made us all better men for trying.”

— Governor Martin E. Trapp speaking at the funeral of Bill Tilghman

 

Legendary lawman and sportswriter Bat Masterson once referred to his well-known colleague Bill Tilghman as “the finest among us all.” Marshall Tilghman and Sheriff Bat Masterson were two members of the “most intrepid posse” of the Old West, a group of policemen who, in 1878, tracked down the killer of a popular songstress named Dora Hand.

William Matthew Tilghman, Jr.’s drive to legitimately right a wrong began at an early age. He was born on the Fourth of July 1854 in Fort Dodge, Iowa. His father was a soldier turned farmer, and his mother was a homemaker. Bill spent his early childhood in the heart of the Sioux Indian territory in Minnesota. Grazed by an arrow when he was a baby, he was raised to respect Native Americans and protect his family from tribes that felt they had been unfairly treated by the government. Bill was one of six children. His mother insisted he had been “born to a life of danger.”

In 1859 his family moved to a homestead near Atchison, Kansas. While Bill’s father and oldest brother were fighting in the Civil War, he worked the farm and hunted game. One of the most significant events in his early life occurred when he was twelve years old while returning home from a blackberry hunt. His hero, Bill Hickok, rode up beside him and asked if he had seen a man ride through with a team of mules and a wagon.

The wagon and mules had been stolen in Abilene, and the marshal had pursued the culprit across four hundred miles. Bill told Hickok that the thief had passed him on the road that led to Atchison. The marshal caught the criminal before he left the area and escorted him back to the scene of the crime. Bill was so taken by Hickok’s passion for upholding the law that he decided to follow in his footsteps and become a scout and lawman.

From 1871 to 1888, Bill hunted buffalo, rounded up livestock, scouted for the military, and operated a tavern in Dodge City, Kansas. In 1889, Bill settled in Oklahoma and was at once appointed deputy United States marshal, thus taking to a calling that made him famous as a hustler of outlaws of the most desperate kind. During his term in office, he amassed a fortune in rewards paid by the government for the capture of such noted desperados, train robbers, bank robbers, and murderers as Bill Doolin, Tulsa Jack, Bitter Creek, and Bill Dalton.

In his many years of continuous service as United States marshal, Bill was the associate of such noted scouts as Luke Short, Pat Garrett, Wild Bill Hickok, Neal Brown, and Charley Bassett. Bat Masterson was also one of the famous marshals of Dodge City in the early days and knew Bill Tilghman well. The two were lifelong friends. Masterson once said of Tilghman, “After a career of sixteen years on the firing lines of America’s last frontier and after being shot at five hundred times by the most desperate outlaws in the land, whose unerring aim with a six-shooter or Winchester seldom failed to bring down their victims, this man, Bill Tilghman, came through it all unscathed, and is perhaps the only frontiersman who has been constantly on the job for more than a generation and lives to tell the tale.”

Bill Tilghman was twice elected sheriff of Lincoln County, Oklahoma, after which he was elected to the state senate, resigning that office to accept the job of chief of police of Oklahoma City. He would resign that position in 1914 to campaign for United States marshal in Oklahoma. Bill received the appointment and rendered valuable service not only during that term but also at various other times he had the post.

In 1924 Bill was persuaded to take on the job of cleaning up a lawless oil boomtown called Cromwell in Oklahoma. He was seventy-one years old when he was shot in an ambush on Saturday, November 1, 1924, by a corrupt Prohibition enforcement officer. Wiley Lynn, the man who shot the aged officer, fled the scene of the crime but gave himself up to authorities in Holdenville, Oklahoma. Lynn admitted to officers at Holdenville that he shot Bill, but would make no further statement. He was placed in the Hughes County jail to await formal action by the authorities.

Cromwell had long been known as a “wide open” town. Dance halls and gambling joints had been running freely, and booze was easy to obtain. Vice conditions were regarded as so bad that federal authorities had been dispatched to the area. Lynn was one of a handful of agents sent to the territory.

Conditions in Cromwell did not get any better with the presence of the federal authorities. When the situation escalated, a step toward more law enforcement was made, and Bill was called in to serve in the role in which he had gained fame. Now he no longer was the Bill of the old days when his daring speed on the trigger made him respected and feared by all law breakers. Conditions improved somewhat, however, and there were indications that a complete cleanup there might be made.

The fatal shooting occurred when Bill attempted to place under arrest members of a motorcar party who were disturbing the peace on the main street of town. One of the men fired a pistol shot into the air, and a few minutes later spectators heard angry words and another shot. Bill fell and was dead before anyone reached him.

After shooting Marshal Tilghman, the slayer fled in the car, occupied by another man and two women, and drove rapidly out of town. Wiley Lynn was arrested and tried for killing Bill but was found not guilty of murder. The jury believed he had acted in self-defense.

Eight years after killing Marshal Tilghman, Wiley ley Lynn died as a result of gunshot wounds.

Graveside services for lawman Bill Tilghman were held at Oak Park Cemetery in Lincoln County, Oklahoma.

 

 

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The Tale Behind Stephen Foster’s Tombstone

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“Now the nodding wild flow’rs may wither on the shore.  While her gentle fingers will cull them no more.  Oh! I sigh for Jeannie with the light brown hair.  Floating like a vapor, on the soft summer air—from “Jeannie with the Light Brown Hair” by Stephen Foster

Songwriter and composer Stephen Collins Foster was lying face down in a pool of his own blood when a housekeeper at a cheap New York boarding house found him on the morning of January 13, 1864. The man who had penned such popular tunes as “Oh! Susanna” and “Jeannie with the Light Brown Hair” collapsed from a fever while walking to a wash basin to get some water. He struck his head on the porcelain bowl and cut a large gash in his face and neck. He was taken to Bellevue Hospital where he was pronounced dead.

Stephen Foster was born on July 4, 1826, in Lawrenceville, Pennsylvania. He was the youngest of eleven children and from an early age displayed exceptional musical talent. At seven years old his parents gave him a flageolet, a sixteenth-century woodwind instrument. Within a short time, Stephen mastered the flute-like whistle and expanded his abilities to include harmonica, piano, and guitar. Although his talent captivated family and friends, he did not have a desire to perform. Stephen preferred to write and wanted to study music as a science.

In 1841, Stephen’s mother hired a tutor to teach her son the fundamentals of music as well as how to speak French and German. Stephen composed his first published song, entitled “Open Thy Lattice Love,” in 1842 at the age of seventeen. A short time later he moved to Cincinnati, Ohio, and took a job working for his brother as an accounting clerk. He wrote many more songs during this time, all of which were published, but the money he received for his work was next to nothing.

By 1850, he decided to abandon the accounting business and devote himself full-time to writing music. His gift for harmony and poetry led to the creation of such well-known tunes as “Camptown Races” and “My Old Kentucky Home.” During this time, he met Jane McDowell, the daughter of a physician from the Pittsburgh area. The two fell in love and were married on July 22, 1850. Stephen continued writing songs that were published and well received, but he realized very little financially for his music at the onset of his career because he allowed his work to be published without thought of compensation.  He earned $15,000 for the song “Old Folks at Home,” and many of his other tunes were equally as profitable.  Unfortunately, multiple publishers often printed their own competing editions of Stephen’s songs, paying him nothing and eroding any long-term monetary benefits.

Stephen’s struggles with managing his money and the loss of his parents as well as many of his siblings in a short time period proved more than he could bear. Consequently, he sought comfort in drinking. The alcohol soon became all-consuming and quickly became an issue in his marriage. Stephen became addicted and after numerous ultimatums and attempts to get him to stop drinking, Jane decided to take their daughter back to her parents’ home in Pittsburgh.

Stephen sank into a deep depression and continued drinking. He spent all his income on alcohol, and when he ran out of money, he sold his clothing to buy more to drink. He wore rags and went days without eating. His brothers and sister would step in to help, but Stephen would not and could not change. On Saturday evening, January 9, 1864, the thirty-seven-year-old man passed out in a drunken stupor in his hotel room. When he awoke, he was violently ill from liver failure and in his weakened condition he fell and hit his head.

Stephen’s wife Jane and one of his brothers came to the hospital to claim his body. Nurses gave his family his clothes along with 38 cents that were found in his pocket and a scrap of paper upon which he had written the words, “Dear Friends and Gentle Hearts.”

He was buried in Alleghany Cemetery in Pittsburgh, beside his mother. Upon his plain marble headstone is the simple inscription: “Stephen Foster of Pittsburgh. Born July 4, 1826. Died January 13, 1864.”

 

 

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The Tale Behind John Chisum’s Tombstone

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“No matter where people go, sooner or later there’s the law. And sooner or later they find God’s already been there.”

—John Wayne as John Chisum in Chisum (1970)

 

Cattle barons of the vast frontier such as John Chisum once held undisputed sway over the great public domain. He ruled like a lord of old over the Pecos country in New Mexico where desperate battles were fought between rival cattle barons for more grazing land.

Rancher John Simpson Chisum was born into an affluent family in Tennessee on a plantation on August 16, 1824. His parents relocated their five children to Red River County, Texas, in 1837. John was thirteen when his family settled in Paris, Texas. He worked a series of odd jobs before becoming the county clerk in 1852.

At the age of thirty, John ventured into cattle ranching with Stephen K. Fowler, a businessman from New York. The Half Circle P brand, owned by Chisum and Fowler, was seen on livestock across a great expanse of the land John purchased in Denton County, Texas. Stephen’s original investment of $6,000 resulted in a $100,000 profit in ten years.

Chisum used his portion of profitable shares to buy more land and cattle. In addition to running his own spread, which included five thousand head of cattle, John also managed livestock for other ranchers and ambitious investors. By 1861, John Chisum was recognized as one of the most important cattle dealers in North Texas.

When the Civil War started, John contracted with the military to supply beef to soldiers in the Trans-Mississippi Confederate Army Department. After the war he drove his cattle into eastern New Mexico to sell to the government for the cavalry and the Indian reservations. In 1867, John moved his base of operation to Roswell, New Mexico, where he already had more than one thousand head of cows. He established a series of ranches along a 150-mile stretch of the Pecos River. John’s empire grew to eighty thousand head of cattle and he hired more than one hundred cowboys to work the livestock.

John Chisum was involved tangentially with the Lincoln County Range War in 1878. The dispute initially began as a fight between cattlemen and two store owners over who rightfully controlled the trade of dry goods in the county. Cattlemen John Tunstall and his business partner, Alexander McSween, owned one of the stores, and they were being threatened by the owners of the competing establishment who had an economic stranglehold on the area. Each store owner organized his own men to protect his enterprises and homes from being overrun. Tunstall and McSween had in their employ Billy the Kid and his associates. John Chisum supported Tunstall’s efforts. His exact role in the dispute is unknown.

After Tunstall was murdered, Billy the Kid took Chisum to task over money he insisted John owed him for protection. Chisum disagreed, and Billy resented him for it. In 1880, Chisum helped get Pat Garrett, the sheriff who shot Billy the Kid, elected to office.

John Chisum’s cattle operations continued to thrive, and he shared his good fortune with his brother, James. John gave James his own herd of cattle to manage.

John contracted throat cancer in late 1883 and had surgery to remove the growth in 1884. He died on December 22, 1884, in Eureka, Arkansas, where he had been recuperating from the operation. His giant cattle empire was worth $500,000. Chisum never married, but it is believed he fathered two children with one of the slave women he owned named Jensie.

John Chisum’s body was laid to rest in Paris, Texas. He was sixty years old when he passed away.

 

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The Tale Behind Seth Bullock’s Tombstone

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“[Seth Bullock is a] splendid-looking fellow with his size and subtle strength, his strongly marked, aquiline face with his big mustache, and the broad brim of his soft hat drawn down around his hawk eyes.”

—President Theodore Roosevelt

 

It wasn’t a bullet from an outlaw’s six-shooter or an enemy soldier in the Spanish-American War that claimed the life of one of the fiercest lawmen in the history of the Dakotas. Seth Bullock died of colon cancer. The accomplished businessman, rancher, politician, and lawman suffered with the disease for years and he died in September 1919 at the age of sixty-two. Born in Amhertberg, Ontario, Canada, in August 1876, six decades later he was remembered for his strength of character as well as the influence he had on the wild frontier.

According to the September 28, 1919, edition of the Kansas City Star, before Seth Bullock made his mark on the Black Hills of Dakota, he was a pioneer in Montana. He was the first sheriff in Helena, Montana, and a member of a famous vigilance committee that rid the region of a desperate band of horse thieves.

Upon hearing that gold had been discovered in the Black Hills, Seth and some of his friends decided to go to that area of the country in the summer of 1876. In March 1877, he became Lawrence County, Dakota’s first sheriff. The gold camp contained some of the most notorious, cutthroat criminals in the country. Many were intimidated by the lawman.

Seth dressed like a minister, had the stare of a mad cobra, and was silent as a confidential clerk working for Rockefeller. In the beginning, his ability to effectively do his job in Lawrence County was challenged by an outlaw who intensely disliked the lawman. He gave orders that Seth should leave the camp and never return. The man threatened to shoot Seth if he didn’t go. After being warned by friends, the sheriff borrowed a squirrel gun from an old hunter and proceeded down the street to the saloon where the desperado was waiting. When the man saw Seth unafraid and coming right for him, he backed down and fled the scene.

As a representative of law and order, the Dakota lawman tracked down a number of stage robbers, gamblers, and murderers, and, according to the October 1, 1919, edition of the Fort Wayne Journal Gazette, killed more than twenty-five lawbreakers who refused arrest.

In addition to his career in law enforcement (Seth also served as a United States marshal in Western Dakota Territory) he co-owned and operated a hardware store and warehouse in Deadwood with his business partner Sol Star. It was one of the most prosperous companies in the Black Hills.

Seth met Theodore Roosevelt in 1884. Roosevelt was a deputy sheriff in Medora, North Dakota, and had tracked a criminal to Seth’s jurisdiction. The two lawmen became fast friends. He became one of Roosevelt’s Rough Riders in the Spanish-American War and was named captain of one of the future president’s troops.

Seth was an elected representative to the Senate and introduced the resolution to set aside Yellowstone as a national park. He was the first forest supervisor of the Black Hills and the cofounder of the mining town Belle Fourche.

Seth was serving his third term as United States marshal for the District of South Dakota when he was diagnosed with cancer. Friends and family noted that in spite of his health he refused to be complacent. He continued on with his work regardless of the debilitating illness.

When President Roosevelt died in January 1919, Seth decided to erect a monument in his friend’s honor. He oversaw the building of a stone tower known as Mount Roosevelt on Sheep Mountain located five miles from Deadwood. The tower was completed in June 1919. Seth died on September 23, 1919, at his home surrounded by his loved ones. He was buried at Mount Moriah Cemetery in Deadwood. His grave faces Mount Roosevelt.

 

 

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