The Civil War serves as a ragged dividing line between muzzle-loading arms and the acceleration of advancements in firearms design and ammunition that occurred during and after the conflict. For enthusiasts of the craftsmanship, mechanics, history, and romance of arms, the remaining years of the nineteenth century were the Golden Age of American gunmaking.
These years coincide with the rapid settling of the West. Even during the distractions of the Civil War, migration continued—drawn by the lure of gold and silver strikes. Wagon trains were as long as 1,200 wagons, facing the largely unknown wilderness with guns at the ready and nerves on edge. At war’s end the migration increased dramatically, from both North and South, and was swelled by immigrants from Europe. Federal legislation, notably the Homestead Act of 1862, encouraged the common man to move west, claim a tract of land of up to 160 acres, and own the land after five years, if he made particular improvements and met other reasonable conditions. Special benefits were allowed for Civil War veterans, whose years of military service could be counted against the five-year residency requirement.
The Great Plains beckoned as the last great frontier, and were settled principally in the 1870s and 1880s. That period saw the largest populations of pioneers moving west. At first harboring a vast cattle industry, later the range was substantially replaced by farming. Completion of the transcontinental railroad joined the nation together through the Iron Horse. Improved transportation furthered the Army’s strategy of destroying the vast buffalo herds and weakening the hostile Indian tribes. Barbed-wire fences and changes in the beef industry (including elimination of the long trail drives from Texas) left farmers gradually dominant over ranchers. Droughts, grasshopper plagues, depressions, devastating winters, and range wars, as well as rampaging Indians, outlaws, slick gamblers, gunfighters, and prostitutes, were all components in the taming of the West. Almost to a man (and woman), firearms continued to play a central role.
Gunfighters,* gamblers, and outlaws—men of daring, chance, and fate—plied their trades in the era of the six-gun, which lasted from after the Civil War until the early twentieth century. Expertise with firearms was a matter of survival. The preference in handguns was the Colt, and in longarms the Winchester.
Following the Civil War, the muzzle-loading Colts maintained a steady popularity, even as late as the 1870s. John Wesley Hardin’s capture by Texas Rangers in 1877 showed he still had a percussion revolver: “[One of the Rangers asked:] ‘Have you taken his pistol?’ They replied no, that I had no gun. Jack Duncan said, ‘That’s too thin’ [i.e., “I don’t believe it”], and ran his hand between my over and undershirt, pulling out a .44 Colt’s cap-and-ball six-shooter, remarking to the others, ‘What did I tell you.’”
The full array of Civil War and prewar-era arms remained in vogue, partly because of availability, partly because of their merit, and partly because shooters were used to these guns and comfortable with their operation. Further, paper cartridges and loose powder, balls, and caps were commonly purchasable throughout the West. The percussions also offered greater power and punch than most early metallic-cartridge guns.
Smaller-framed arms began the inroads on percussion handguns, and some, like the Sharps .22 and .32 pepperboxes, would reach a total in excess of 140,000 by the inventor’s death in 1874. Remington’s pepperboxes, the Marston multibarrel, and the Reid “My Friend” knuckleduster also had large markets. These arms, and the myriad of deringers, were hardy backups for men who relied mainly on bigger handguns, and for hideaways in the city where only small pistols might be carriable.
Prostitutes with deringers were described by journalist Henry M. Stanley, in Julesburg, Colorado (1867): “These women are expensive articles, and come in for a large share of the money wasted. In broad daylight they may be seen gliding through the sandy streets in Black Crook dresses, carrying fancy derringers slung to their waists, with which tools they are dangerously expert.”
Deringers were even carried by two who dared to try capturing John Wesley Hardin (Texas, 1869): “When they came, I covered them with a double barreled shotgun and told them their lives depended on their actions, and unless they obeyed my orders to the letter, I would shoot first one and then the other.” Both men put down their arms: “One had a double-barreled gun and two six-shooters; the other had a rifle and two derringers. They complied with my request under the potent persuasion of my gun levelled first on one and then the other.”
The growing popularity of the .22 and .32 cartridge revolvers, like the S&Ws, is evident in the recollection of William Dixon, in Leavenworth (1866): “All our acquaintance in this city urge us to get more and better arms; a suggestion in which the mail-agents cordially agree. The new arm of the West, called a Smith-and-Weston [sic], is a pretty tool; as neat a machine for throwing slugs into a man’s flesh as an artist in murder could desire to see.” He added: “We buy a couple of these Smith-and-Westons, and then pay our fare of five hundred dollars to Salt Lake [by stagecoach].”
Although pocket protectors had a brisk sale, the preferred holster arm for serious shooters was the large-frame revolver. Conversions from percussion had a ready market, and were turned out in largest quantities by Remington. In many Remington arms the user could fire either a percussion cylinder or an interchangeable metallic cartridge, made under license from S&W.
Colt’s Thuer conversion—a front-loader to circumvent the S&W patent rights—was not a popular frontier item, though that too permitted interchanging percussion and cartridge cylinders. The .44 Richards and Richards-Mason conversions had good markets, and quantities into the thousands (even military sales), followed by the Open Top Frontier .44, immediate predecessor to the serious revolver shooter’s favorite, the Single Action Army .45 Peacemaker. For design and performance, and line and form, no more practical and sculpturally handsome a Colt has ever been devised. The starring role the Single Action has played in film and TV Westerns is a fitting tribute to the actual role of this six-shot equalizer in the winning of the West. Then and now, the Colt Single Action has been the handgun of choice.
Made in barrel lengths from 2 1/2 to 16 inches and in calibers from .22 rimfire to .476 Eley, the Single-Action set the standard against which all others were measured. Every class or type of no-nonsense gun-toter in the West had a Single Action Colt—if he did not, the Colt was usually his wished-for sidearm.
Competing against the Colt S.A.A. were the Remington Single Action Model 1875 and Model 1890 and the large-framed Smith & Wessons.
Impetus for S&W came from czarist Russia, which ordered 20,000 American models, in .44 Russian caliber. These and other top-break revolvers had a following among some desperate characters. John Wesley Hardin used an Old Model .44 Russian in shooting Deputy Sheriff Charley Webb (1874, Comanche, Texas), and Jesse James is known to have used a Schofield S&W and the Model 1875 Remington.
The attention a gunfighter paid to his hardware is apparent from a series of letters from W. B. “Bat” Masterson to the Colt factory, ordering a total of eight Single Actions. On the Opera House Saloon letterhead, Dodge City, Kansas (July 24, 1885), Bat ordered
one of your nickle plated short 45. calibre revolvers [Single Action Army]. It is for my own use and for that reason I would like to have a little Extra pains taken with it. I am willing to pay Extra for Extra work. Make it very Easy on the trigger and have the front Sight a little higher and thicker than the ordinary pistol of this Kind. put on a gutta percha handle and send it as soon as possible, have the barrel about the same length that the ejecting rod is
Masterson’s total orders, over a period of years, came to one 7 1/2-inch, two 5 1/2-inch, and five 4 3/4-inch Single Actions, commonly in plated finishes; the first was a deluxe 7 1/2-inch, in silver plating, and engraved, inscribed, and with carved mother-of-pearl grips. In later years, as a sportswriter with a New York newspaper, the great Bat would meet many a New Yorker fascinated by his career in the West. From buffalo hunter to gambler and gunfighter to policeman, sheriff, and deputy U.S. Marshal, Bat Masterson enjoyed one of the more interesting of frontier careers.
Rifles and shotguns were least vital to gunfighters, gamblers, and outlaws, and of little use to madams and their whores. Since to these professionals guns were critical equipment, selection was directed toward the best that money could buy. Therefore Winchester and Sharps prevailed in rifles, and Parker and better-quality English doubles were preferred in shotguns. These latter tended to have shortened barrels. Richard Townshend, an 1869 arrival to Colorado, commented: “A shotgun’s not very handy at close quarters, unless it’s a sawed-off. For fighting in a bar-room, let me tell you, or on top of a stagecoach, they like to cut the barrels off a foot in front of the hammers, so the gun handles more like a pistol.”
For maneuverability, and as a complement to the revolver, carbines were a favored long gun for the gunfighter and outlaw. But these were usually carried as saddle guns (lawmen did likewise). In the late 1870s, with the increased availability of the .44-40, the concept of cartridges interchangeable between revolvers and longarms became popular.
As a gun and cartridge maker, and with its innovative designs, Winchester had a distinct advantage over its longarm competition until into the twentieth century. In 1874 it bought out rival Adirondack Arms Company (which made repeating rifles), and in 1888 it acquired Whitney and a significant share of rival Remington. A number of other firms, like Sharps, Ballard, Bullard, and Massachusetts Arms Company, had disappeared from the scene by the 1890s. The firearms industry continued in a state of flux, as the West itself changed.
That gunfights and shoot-outs in the West were rare occasions is challenged by the statistic of some 20,000 men killed in gun battles from 1866 to 1900. The gunfighter, a.k.a. mankiller and shootist (the latter term also designated a marksman), was a product of his time, some hardened from Civil War service, and all hardened from the tough frontier.
An 1881 Kansas City Journal article described such men:
He may be found behind the bar in a Main Street saloon; he may be seen by an admiring audience doing the pedestal clog at a variety theater; his special forte may be driving a cab, or he may be behind the rosewood counters of a bank. If he has been here any great number of years, his “man” was probably a Pioneer, and died in the interest of “law and order”—at least so the legend runs. And no one dares dispute the verity of the legend, for behold the man who executed a violator of the law without waiting for the silly formalities of a judge and jury, mayhap now sits in a cushioned pew at an aristocratic church, and prays with a regularity, grace and precision only equalled by his unerring aim with a revolver, the great Western civilizer.
Facility with firearms, mainly the handgun, was paramount; but even more so were a steely reserve and calm under pressure. Adrenaline could cause the weak of spine a fatal case of nerves. Gunfighters were prepared to kill if necessary, and if one had a reputation as a mankiller, there were others whose intent it was to kill and assume that mantle on their own shoulders.
The Prince of Pistoleers had advice for would-be gunfighters. In 1865, Wild Bill Hickok, the first “fast gun,” stated: “Whenever you get into a row be sure and not shoot too quick. Take time. I’ve known many a feller slip up for shootin’ in a hurry.”
An 1867 issue of Harper’s New Monthly Magazine carried an eyewitness account testifying to Hickok’s deadly accuracy: “‘That sign is more than fifty yards away. I will put these six balls into the inside of the circle, which isn’t bigger than a man’s heart’ In an offhand way, and without sighting the pistol with his eye, he discharged the six shots of his revolver. I afterward saw that all bullets had entered the circle.” Though historians are skeptical of this account, an expert shot, as was Hickok, could fire with such notable accuracy.
Hickok’s favorite arms were a matched set of 1851 Navy Colts, which he carried tucked into his belt, butts forward. He exercised extreme caution in the care and loading of his pistols, and even cast his own bullets, cleaned his guns, and examined such details as a percussion cap before capping the nipples. “I am not taking any chances,” he said, “when I draw & pull I must be sure.”
Hickok told Charles Gross in Abilene, Kansas, about shooting a human adversary: “Charlie I hope you never have to shoot any man, but if you do shoot him in the Guts near the Navel. You may not make a fatal shot, but he will get a shock that will paralyze his brain and arm so much that the fight is all over.”
Hickok’s prowess with his Colts was so well known that he was asked to give command performances, several of which were recorded in the memoirs or reports of eyewitnesses. While he was on tour with W. F. Cody’s theatrical troupe a demonstration was put on before several local marksmen. Reportedly firing a pair of silver-plated, engraved, and pearl-handled Colt .44s (with a pair of Remington .44s as backup), Hickok
proceeded to entertain us with some of the best pistol work which it has ever been my good fortune to witness…. His last feat was the most remarkable of all: A quart can was thrown by Mr. Hickok himself, which dropped about 10 or 12 yards distant. Quickly whipping out his weapons, he fired alternatively with right and left. Advancing a step with each shot, his bullets striking the earth just under the can he kept it in continuous motion until his pistols were empty.
Frontiersman Luther North summed up the essential qualities of the deadly Hickok, qualities required of any true gunfighter: “[Wild Bill] was very deliberate and took careful aim closing his left eye. If he could shoot from the hip he never did it [before North and friends]…. Wild Bill was a man of Iron Nerve and could shoot straight enough to hit a man in the right place when the man had a gun in his hand and just between you and me not many of the so called Bad Men could do that.” Hickok himself said to Luther’s brother Frank: “you can beat the Hell out of me shootin’ at pieces of paper, but I can beat you when it comes to hittin’ men.”
An inveterate gambler, Hickok ended his career in Deadwood, Dakota Territory, in 1876, while in a card game at the No. 10 saloon. Failing to be seated in his preferred manner (back toward the wall), Hickok was shot a few hours later from behind, by a would-be celebrity, Jack McCall. Hickok’s card hand, aces and eights of spades and clubs and the jack of diamonds, forever after has been known as the Dead Man’s Hand. Death was instantaneous, and contrary to legend, Hickok did not instinctively draw his pistols when hit by the single bullet in the head.
The quick draw was not a myth. One of the first of the West’s outlaws to attain notoriety, Henry Plummer of Montana, was said to have been the “quickest hand with his revolver of any man in the mountains,” and “could draw the pistol and discharge the five loads in three seconds.” Wild Bill Hickok’s speed was part of his reputation. An Abilene observer wrote: “He shot six times so quick it startled me, for his six-shooter was in his holster when I said ‘Draw.’”
Outlaw Dutch John Wagner was captured by vigilante Neil Howie, and the threat of a quick draw and deadly shooting won the day. Howie was
determined to arrest the robber at all risks, single-handed. He called out, “Hallo, Cap! hold on a minute.” Wagner wheeled his horse half round, and Neil, fixing his eyes upon him, walked straight towards him with empty hands. His trusty revolver hung at his belt, however, and those who have seen the machine-like regularity and instantaneous motion with which Howie draws and cocks a revolver, as well as the rapidity and accuracy of his shooting, well know that few men, if any, have odds against him in an encounter with fire-arms…. he arrived within a few steps of the Dutchman… [and] broke the silence with the order, “Give me your gun and get off your mule.”
Modern practitioners of the quick draw have attained remarkable speeds, drawing and firing five shots into a target 10 feet distant in less than two seconds; 1.6 seconds was a record held by Ed McGivern, with a Colt Single Action, in 1934. He could also fan (cocking the hammer with quick movements of the edge of the other hand) five shots into a playing-card-size target at a few yards’ distance in 1.2 seconds! But the real test was shooting at another human being, while being shot at in return.
Shoot-outs abounded in the West, although their nature differed from the High Noon–style showdowns of Western films and TV programs.
Gambler and dandy Luke Short’s shoot-out with gunfighter Long-Haired Jim Courtright is a Wild West classic. On a February day, 1887, in Fort Worth, Short and Courtright drew and shot at each other at point-blank range. Appropriately, the men were near a shooting gallery at the time. Courtright’s revolver hammer appears to have caught on the chain of Short’s watch—while Short pointed his revolver at Courtright. The first shot smashed the cylinder of Courtright’s revolver, and three out of the next five hit his right thumb, shoulder, and heart. No shots hit Short, whose act was considered legitimate self-defense.
A gun battle worthy of Hollywood’s best was that between cowboy, gunfighter, and lawman Commodore Perry Owens and the Blevins gang, September 1887, in Apache County, Arizona. Owens, on a Sunday afternoon, came to the Blevins house in search of a Blevins son, a wanted desperado and killer of two sheepmen, in a dispute known as the Pleasant Valley feud.
On approaching the house, cradling his Winchester, Owens spotted the fugitive through one of the two front doors. The killer held a Colt Single Action. Both men fired at the same time; the outlaw was hit, and staggered back into his mother’s arms. A brother fired from the house at Owens, whose return fire scored a hit in the right shoulder. Owens sprinted around to the side of the house and shot a Blevins brother-in-law (armed with a revolver) in the shoulder as well. Next Owens shot in the heart the youngest of the Blevins boys, who was also brandishing a revolver. Mrs. Blevins and two other women in the house were not hit; all of Owens’s adversaries died except one of the Blevins brothers. Owens walked away unscathed. Alas, the arsenal from his shooting days is reported to eventually have been tossed out—down an outhouse privy, after Owens’s death, in 1919. In those days the guns would have been secondhand; only early collectors would have recognized their rarity and historical interest.
Surely the most famous shoot-out in the West was Tombstone’s “Gunfight at the O.K. Corral,” October 26, 1881—the culmination of bad blood between the peace officer, gambler, and gunfighter Earps and the Clantons and McLaurys, known rustlers and ranchers. Wyatt Earp, one of the more controversial of Western personalities, and his brothers Virgil and Morgan, accompanied by the tubercular dentist, gambler, and gunfighter “Doc” Holliday, squared off against the unruly Ike Clanton, his younger brother Billy, and Frank and Tom McLaury.
The parties met by Camillus S. Fly’s boardinghouse and photographic gallery, in an open space on Frémont Street—not at the O.K. Corral. Facing off at a distance of about 6 to 8 feet, Wyatt barked: “You sons of bitches, you have been looking for a fight, and now you can have it.”
In moments the fight broke out. Ike Clanton rushed to Wyatt and declared he was unarmed, to which Wyatt coolly replied: “The fight has now commenced; go to fighting, or get away.” Ike ran off to safety.
In the space of about a half minute the McLaurys and Billy Clanton were mortally wounded, Virgil and Morgan Earp were both hit hard, and Doc Holliday was nicked in the hip.
Wyatt alone and the disappearing Ike Clanton were unscathed. A hearing exonerated the Earps, but in the aftermath Virgil was ambushed a few weeks later by a shotgun-wielding avenger, not far from the Oriental Saloon. He suffered crippling wounds. Morgan was murdered from behind in a billiard parlor the following year. In revenge of Morgan’s death the surviving Earps saw to killing three men, one of them at the Tucson train station, while Morgan’s body was being sent for burial to California.
A remarkable one-hour television recreation of the West’s most famed gunfight was made by Wolper Productions for broadcast on national television, 1972. Entitled The Showdown at O.K. Corral and narrated by Lorne Greene, the documentary is played on Arizona TV on the annual anniversary of the gun battle.
The professional gambler was often also a gunfighter, and sometimes a peace officer. Some were also outlaws. The Topeka Daily Commonwealth (August 1871) offered a generally accurate description: “His divet is principally Navy Plug [chewing tobacco] and whisky, and the occupation of his heart is gambling…. He generally wears a revolver on each side, which he will use with as little hesitation as a man as on a wild animal. Such a character is dangerous and desperate, and each one generally has killed his man.”
His den of iniquity, the saloon or gambling tent, was a place of crackling action, fueled by the presence of alcohol and often of jaded women, and the forever present possibility of deadly differences over cards, a cheater exposed, or simply bad blood. The Alamo Saloon, Abilene, was described in the Junction City Weekly Union (October 1870): “Here in a well lighted room opening on the street the boys gather in crowds around the tables to play or to watch others play…. The musicians had to compete with clinking glasses, jangling spurs, ribald shouts, laughter, and the occasional bark of a six-shooter.”
Unlike the saloons of Hollywood, these emporiums were generally not larger than 80 feet by 24 feet, with a single bar of about 20 feet. If present, toilet facilities would be at the back (sometimes patrons were expected simply to step outside). Chairs, tables, gambling equipment, a bar, liquor, and soiled doves invited the patrons to relax and have a good time. Many a saloon was in a separate part of town to keep the rowdy element away from the better class of citizens.
The men who plied their trade in these surroundings relied on guns to help maintain peace, and on local law enforcement. Many operators had their own armed guards and bouncers. Luke Short, a partner in the famed Long Branch in Dodge City, became embroiled in a political dispute (1883), which threatened to turn into a shooting war.
A local ordinance against prostitution was used as a pretext for a police raid of the Long Branch. Short and a policeman shot at each other over the incident (no one was hit), and the feisty gambler was jailed. Released, he was told to stay out of town; instead he wired friends for help, among them Bat Masterson and Wyatt Earp. Dodge City’s mayor feared for his life, and sought troops from the governor in defense. The impasse resulted in Luke’s return to Dodge, and in celebration one of the West’s most extraordinary group portraits was photographed, known as “The Dodge City Peace Commission.”
Still another notorious saloonkeeper, gambler, and gunfighter was Rowdy Joe Lowe. In league with his wife (or companion) Kate, Lowe ran a succession of saloons and brothels in Kansas and Texas. In an 1873 gun battle in Wichita, Lowe fired a shotgun at rival saloonkeeper E. T. “Red” Beard, who had just shot a prostitute and had fired a shotgun blast at Joe. Rowdy Joe chased Beard down to a river and leveled his gun at him, causing mortal wounds. Lowe survived three shooting altercations, but succumbed to the fourth, shot by a former policeman, in Denver, 1899.
Folklore aside, outlaws of the West were generally rough and vicious men who chose stealing and killing as a way of life. The world-famed James and Younger Gang were celebrated in their own time. Jesse and Frank were veterans of Civil War guerrilla units and claimed to have entered the world of outlawry when poorly treated by the authorities at war’s end.
Enjoying the notoriety of press reports of their exploits, Jesse and Frank visited a Kansas City reporter to give him a gold watch, which was refused, since the frightened journalist thought it stolen. “Heck no,” said Jesse; “this’n we bought with our own money!” The journalist still refusing the watch, Jesse then asked, “Well, then perhaps you can name some man around here you want killed?”
Bristling with armaments, the gang finally was split up when an 1876 raid at Northfield, Minnesota, led to the wounding of the Youngers, Cole, Bob, and Jim, and their jailing at Stillwater Penitentiary in Minnesota.
This attempted robbery was so widely reported that it was even covered by the Times of London! Bob would die in prison, while Jim committed suicide after being released in 1901. Cole joined his cousin Frank James; they lectured to the public, using their criminal careers as examples of wayward sinners, and organized a short-lived Wild West show.
Frank had surrendered to the governor of Missouri, soon after Jesse, for whom there was a $25,000 reward, was shot in the back by a cousin, Bob Ford, a traitorous henchman in league with the authorities.
Ford, known thereafter as “the dirty little coward who shot Mr. Howard”—Jesse’s alias at the time of his death, 1882—spent the rest of his life taunted by the betrayal of the trusting Jesse. Ford himself was shot by an Ed Kelly, ten years later. And Kelly in turn was shot twelve years after that!
For years the James family displayed at fairs guns and accouterments used by members of the most famous of American outlaw gangs. Jesse’s Remington Model 1875, serial 559, is a prized possession of the Gene Autry Western Heritage Museum, accompanied by holster, money and cartridge belt, and a buckskin vest in which he stashed his loot.
Equally renowned as a desperate outlaw was Billy the Kid, born Henry McCarty in the East (1859, possibly New York City’s Irish slum). He was already in the Wild West by the time he was twelve. A succession of brushes with the law as a teenager led him ultimately, at age eighteen, to join the forces of English rancher John Tunstall, in Lincoln County, New Mexico.
The Lincoln County War was one of the hardest-fought of frontier wars. Gaining a reputation as a fun-loving but cool-nerved rustler, ladies’ man, and killer, the Kid was pursued by New Mexico peace officers and his enemies in the Murphy faction of the war. After a failed attempt at amnesty, with Governor Lew Wallace (author of Ben Hur), the Kid was soon hunted down by the 6-foot-4-inch Sheriff Pat Garrett, an old friend.
Appointed sheriff in 1880, Garrett arrested the Kid and four members of his gang just before Christmas. While in prison, sentenced to be hung, the Kid engineered one of the most daring escapes of any Western outlaw. While under escort to relieve himself, Billy slipped out of his handcuffs, knocked down the guard, J. W. Bell, and shot him. The Kid then grabbed the shotgun of Bob Olinger, a bully who had taunted Billy with that very gun, and awaited the deputy’s return from a nearby restaurant.
Responding to the shot which killed Bell, Olinger ran to the jail, to be greeted by the Kid, with the welcome “Look up, old boy, and see what you get.” With that Olinger was struck by the charges from both barrels, loaded with Olinger’s own specially packed buckshot. The vengeful Kid smashed the shotgun and threw it at the hated Olinger’s body: “Here’s your gun, Goddamn you. You won’t follow me with it any longer.”
About an hour later a very relaxed Kid rode out of town, after greeting some of the cowed townsfolk, apologizing to the dead Bell, and nudging Olinger’s body with his boot: “You are not going to round me up again.” An eyewitness reported that the Kid had “at his command eight revolvers and six guns.”
Some months later, on the night of July 14, 1881, Pat Garrett again caught up with the Kid, and shot him in a darkened room at the Pete Maxwell house, Sumner, New Mexico. The Kid knew that he was being followed, and was surprised in his pants, shoeless, but armed. Garrett saw the figure: “He must have then recognized me, for he went backward with a cat-like movement, and I jerked my gun and fired.” Moving to the door and stepping outside, Garrett hugged the wall and gasped, “That was the Kid that came in there onto me, and I think I have got him.”
Garrett, feted far and wide for killing the Kid, was not popular with admirers of the young and spunky outlaw. Guns and watches were presented to Garrett, and years later President Theodore Roosevelt appointed him a customs collector. But Garrett too died violently, in 1908, at the hands of a rival, believed to have been Jim “Killer” Miller. Garrett was shot from behind.
Though he was credited by folklore with twenty-one killings, the Kid’s tally was likely not more than ten. Garrett’s is estimated at more than a half-dozen.
Still another celebrated outlaw-gunfighter was Texan John Wesley Hardin. Despite the Methodist moniker, Hardin had killed a man at age fifteen, and had a total of twelve by the age of eighteen. He is even alleged to have shot a man through a boardinghouse wall, killing him for the annoyance of excessive snoring!
The Texas Rangers put him in jail from 1877 through 1894. On release he set up practice as a lawyer in El Paso, where policeman John Selman shot him from behind in the Acme Saloon.
Hardin’s prowess with Colt Single Action revolvers was so respected on the frontier that he was asked to demonstrate his legerdemain by capturing peace officers—with empty revolvers, of course.
The balance of the Colt Single Action is ideally suited for spinning, flipping, switching hands, and other tricks. Although many of the nineteenth-century holsters were not suited for quick-draw and six-gun magic, that such gymnastics took place is fact.
In the matter of accuracy, the sights of revolvers, like the Colt Single Action, were not adjustable; they were a simple notch at the back of the frame top and a blade at the front. With practice, however, shots could be accurately placed at 25 to 50 yards. Most gunfights were at close range, often point-blank. The turn-of-the-century American revolver champion Walter Winans wrote:
In my opinion revolver shooting is essentially a matter of firing rapidly at short ranges. Deliberate shooting at stationary targets, especially at long ranges, is all wrong. To begin with, the revolver is not accurate enough for such work. When a revolver is used, either in war or in self defense, the shooting is generally done at a few yards’ distance, and at a rapidly moving object. Further, it often happens that a succession of shots has to be fired in a few seconds.
Wild Bill Hickok indeed summed it all up when he said: “Take time. I’ve known many a feller slip up for shootin’ in a hurry.”
* Term known to have been used in the West as early as 1874.