Chapter 9

Crazy Cowboy

C.M. Jones—Sacramento

By 1925, forty-year-old ranch hand C. M. Jones had spent too much time working on J. W. Williams’ ranch near Zero, in Yolo County. Jones was paranoid, fearing that there was a plot against him that was headquartered at the Crocker Art Museum in Sacramento. Fearing for his life, he always carried an ax handle with him whenever he went to Sacramento. Williams, his African-American employer, solved the problem by finding chores that would keep him safely on the ranch. But Williams was only his employer, not his warden, and he couldn’t keep watch over Jones twenty-four hours a day.

On June 4, 1925, Jones stopped by the museum with his ax handle in hand and asked the caretaker, M. C. Powell, “Are there any Germans inside?”

Powell ignored the cowboy.

“If you got them, I want them,” Jones said before he left.

The next day was a sunny Friday, and Jones decided to take care of his delusions. He traded a shotgun for an old .38-56 caliber rifle and ammunition at a Sacramento pawn shop. He went to the Crocker Art Museum and confronted Powell again.

“Show me the way through this place,” demanded Jones, as he fired the gun wildly, narrowly missing Powell. Powell ran into the building as Jones continued randomly shooting his weapon.

Richard Brunett and Charles Simonson were in Sacramento on business. The two men had met for the first time earlier that day and decided to visit the museum together while they waited for their trains back to their respective homes. They were just leaving the museum when they walked right into the ranch hand. Simonson tried to grab the rifle away from the husky Jones, but the madman was too quick for him. The seventy-year-old Simonson tried to run, but got a bullet in his chest. He died instantly. Jones stepped back into the foyer and started taking pot shots at pedestrians.

A blacksmith, O. L. Brainard, stepped outside of his shop, the Peerless Iron Works, which was across the street from the museum, when he heard the gunfire. Seeing the gunman on the porch of the Crocker, Brainard stepped back inside to retrieve his shotgun. As Brainard peeked around the door, he saw Jones pointing his rifle directly at him. Brainard shot first and hit Jones, who was fifty yards away. The buckshot buried itself deep into Jones’ shoulders, chest, and mouth. By chance, one pellet hit Jones directly in his heart, killing him.

At first, nobody knew the gunman’s identity, so the Sacramento Bee ran a photo of the dead man on the front page of that evening’s paper. J. W. Williams saw the photo and identified Jones.

In the old foyer of the Crocker Museum, you can still see a bullet hole in a closet door from that bloody day.