History That Doesn't Suck - 87:Gunslingers & Outlaws (pt 2): Pearl Hart, Tombstone, Jesse James, B. Cassidy & The Sundance Kid

Episode Date: March 29, 2021

“The fight’s commenced. Go to fighting or get away!” This is the story of more gunslinging and heists. Pearl Hart needs to see her mother; is a stagecoach robbery the answer? The Earps Brothers and Doc Holiday are on the opposite of a political and economic feud with the “Cow Boys” in the mining town of Tombstone, Arizona Territory; are they disarming the “Cow Boys” in accordance with a city ordinance? Or is there more to it? Jesse James is a Civil War bushwhacker; but is it still “bushwacking” if he keeps robbing and killing after the war? Or is he a bandit? Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid are fleeing to South America; but do they die in a shootout? Or will Butch prove he’s still alive by visiting his family in Utah years later? Somewhere between the legends and myths is the truth. Too bad some of it will forever remain elusive. Welcome to the Wild West. ____ Connect with us on HTDSpodcast.com and go deep into episode bibliographies and book recommendations join discussions in our Facebook community get news and discounts from The HTDS Gazette  come see a live show get HTDS merch or become an HTDS premium member for bonus episodes and other perks. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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The French Revolution set Europe ablaze. It was an age of enlightenment and progress, but also of tyranny and oppression. It was an age of glory and an age of tragedy. One man stood above it all. This was an age of glory and an age of tragedy. One man stood above it all. This was the age of Napoleon. I'm Everett Rummage, host of the Age of Napoleon podcast. Join me as I examine the life and times of one of the most fascinating and enigmatic characters in modern history. Look for the Age of Napoleon wherever you find your podcasts. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and as in the classroom, Age of Napoleon, wherever you find your podcasts. bonus content, and other exclusive perks, I invite you to join the HTDS membership program. Sign up for a seven-day free trial today at htdspodcast.com slash membership,

or click the link in the episode notes. Language advisory. We're still in the Wild West, and it seems the Earps brothers and Doc Holliday love to use the full phrase SOB as much as the gunslingers in the last episode. Given its frequency, listener discretion is advised. It's a hot summer afternoon in the Arizona Territory, likely May 29th or 30th, 1899. Two horseback desperados ride along the quiet road connecting the towns of Globe and Florence, preparing to rob the next stagecoach. Well, perhaps I should say soon-to-be desperados.

Would-be desperados? This will be their first robbery. They're only doing this because one of them, Pearl Hart, needs the money to visit her dying mother. You heard that right. Her mother. Pearl's a woman. She recently left her abusive husband and had been doing all right. Then she received word that her mother, who lives in Ohio, is dying. Determined to see her before she passes, the 20-something woman took up prospecting with Joe Boot on his nearby mining claim. Trouble is, the claim proved to be no good, and Pearl needs the money now. That's when one or both of them came up with the idea of robbing the Globe's stagecoach.

So here they are, looking to pull their first heist. The duo stop at a bend in the road and wait to surprise the stagecoach. How much time passes? God knows, but eventually, they hear it. The sound grows louder and louder, and finally, it's time. Pearl and Joe trot into the road. They draw their pistols, Pearl a 38, Joe a 45, as Joe gives the terrifying order. Throw up your hands. The driver, Henry Bacon, and his three passengers readily comply as the bandits force the four men to descend from the stage. Now Pearl does her part.

The masked, 5'3", 100-pound woman in boots, blue overalls or work pants, and a dirty cowboy hat concealing most of her black hair first inspects the stagecoach. Inside, she finds two handguns, a.44 and a.45. Huh. Seeing this, Pearl's baffled at their lack of resistance. She'll later comment in an interview, I can't see why men carry revolvers because they almost invariably give them up at the very time they are made to be used. She keeps the 45 and hands Joe the 44.

Pearl then rifles through the pockets of the three passengers. She describes one as a dude, which is to say he's well-dressed. He begs Pearl not to rob him, says he can't afford it. But that's not how holdups work. She finds $36.20 on the dude. Another passenger, whom newspapers later identify as OJ Neal, is beyond terrified. He shakes so badly, Pearl can barely get her hands in his pockets.

But he's the payoff. OJ's carrying $390 and a gold watch. The last passenger is also gripped with fear. I just scared him to death, Pearl will later say. $90 and a gold watch. The last passenger is also gripped with fear. I just scared him to death, Pearl will later say. She describes him as Chinese and nearly her size. He only has $5. As for the driver, Henry Bacon, he only has a few bucks.

So Pearl and Joe decide not to rob him. They also give each exactly $1 for dinner, then tell them to be on their way and, quote, not to look back if they value their lives, close quote. Hoping to cover their tracks, our two bandits ride through the desert as they make their way indirectly to the railroad at Benson. But it doesn't work. Only a few days after the robbery, Pearl and Joe wake up to find Sheriff William Truman's excited, Winchester-wielding posse surrounding them. Only days into their criminal career and 20 miles shy of Benton, the duo surrenders. The amateur bandits make headlines across the nation, especially Pearl.

I mean, it's rare enough to hear of still-operating stagecoaches, much less to hear of one getting robbed. And robbed by a woman? Jane Kirkham supposedly robbed stagecoaches in Colorado back in the 1870s, but that's all hearsay. Pearl is the first woman who's indisputably robbed a stagecoach. From San Francisco to New York, newspapers excitedly report on Pearl Hart. The tigress, the girl bandit, the woman bandit, the female bandit dressed in male attire, and so on. Though incarcerated, Pearl even does a full-on interview with this magazine out of New York called The Cosmopolitan. She enjoys her celebrity status, but it also backfires. While still awaiting trial, Pearl breaks out only to be recaptured because she's recognized from her pictures in the magazine.

Guess she'll have to go to court after all. The trial happens next month, November 1899. The all-male jury deliberates and finds Pearl innocent. But why? Depends on who you ask. According to the El Paso Daily Herald, the gentleman of the jury considered her impoverished circumstances and motivation to see her dying mother understandable. Some, however, believe that Pearl, a known beauty and now wearing a frilly skirt rather than cowboy attire, flirted her way to acquittal. Judge Fletcher Doan is furious. But in a second trial that same month

for federal charges, the jury finds Pearl and Joe guilty of stealing the stagecoach driver's pistol. Joe receives a 30-year sentence. Pearl gets five. Neither will serve anything close to that, though. Joe receives a position of trust and is able to go outside Yuma's Arizona Territorial Prison. On February 6, 1901, he exits and is never heard from again. As for Pearl, territorial governor Alexander Brody pardons her three years into that five-year sentence on

December 15th, 1902. No explanation is given for over 50 years, not until 1954, when the former governor's secretary finally shares that Pearl was released on account of pregnancy. Only three men were allowed to visit her without an escort, and one of them was the governor. Was this about avoiding scandal? Whether he's the father or not, it's not a good look. But is she pregnant? Or did she just fib her way to a pardon? Should Pearl be admired?

Or is she just a common crook? Is she a champion of women's suffrage who denounced answering to a male jury? Or was that, as historians will conclude, just made up too? Whispers and rumors fill every corner of the United States, as Americans do with Pearl what they always do with Western outlaws. Mold them into the hero or villain that fits the desired narrative. And the rumors of what becomes of Pearl in her later years are endless. But my favorite belongs to the 1920s. Supposedly, on a hot as ever Arizona day, a 50-something woman walks into the two-story brick courthouse in Florence.

She looks around, then, on her way out, turns to an attendant and says, Nothing has changed. The curious attendant asks her who she is. to an attendant and says, Nothing has changed. The curious attendant asks her who she is. Stopping in the doorway, the well-dressed mystery woman turns and pronounces proudly, Pearl Hart, the Lady Bandit. And with that, she exits, gets in her taxi, and drives off into the sunset, never to enter the public eye again. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and I'd like to tell you a story.

Last time, we established how the second industrial revolution was molding the American West, but we certainly didn't get to meet enough outlaws. Today, we remedy that. Building off of Pearl Hart, we have three more stops to make. First, we're staying put in the Arizona Territory's dry heat. We need to witness a shootout down in the mining town of Tombstone. From there, we're heading to Missouri to spend more time with Jesse James and his brother Frank. But are they really Western outlaws? Or are they pro-Confederate guerrillas fighting a long-over war? Or are they both? And finally, we'll meet the turn-of-the-century bandits that take the American West's gunslinging to South America. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. They'll leave us with more questions than answers. It's a lot to do, so let's get to it by heading two decades back to an earlier phase in Arizona's history. Rewind.

A few years back, no one would have thought this arid patch of land in the southeast of the Arizona Territory would one day become a bustling city. When Ed Schiefelin started prospecting here among the Apache, soldiers warned him all he'd find was his own tombstone. Instead, he found a serious silver vein and in 1877 put tombstone on the map. Prospectors flocked to the area and saloons, gambling houses, brothels, as well as a few more respected businesses soon followed. Now, in 1881, Tombstone is a booming mine town. It's home to over 7,000 people and cranks out more than $5 million a year in precious metals. But like so many of these fast-growth towns in the industrializing West, Tombstone's

short on law enforcement and has growing factions vying for control. Worse still, this conflict is haunted by the Civil War. On the one hand, we have the Republicans, who tend to be northerners and city slickers. They don't like the law-breaking outlaws, or cowboys, as they're known, who have a penchant for rustling, or in other words, stealing, cattle. On the other hand, we have the Democrats. Typically southerners and ranchers,

most of them would be happy to point out that Tombstone's business elite don't mind when the cowboys' stolen cattle and other goods yield lower meat prices and more money to spend in the gambling halls. To them, the Northerners sound like a bunch of hypocrites. So there we have it. Tombstone's Republicans, city slickers, and Northerners versus its Democrats, Ranchers, and Southerners. There are notable families on both sides. The Cowboys have the Clanton family and the McLaurie brothers, Tom and Frank. Meanwhile, the Republican townies have the Earps brothers. These heavily mustachioed gents have stakes in tombstones, mines, and saloons, and occasionally work in private security. They also bring experience in forcing the law.

The oldest, Virgil, is a Union war vet and currently Tombstone's marshal. His brothers, Morgan and Wyatt, were deputies in Kansas, including the infamous cow town of Dodge City. But before they got out of Dodge, Wyatt made a friend I should also mention, John Henry Dock Holliday. The Dock suffers from tuberculosis and has no interest in practicing dentistry these days. Cards are more his style

now. Like the Earps brothers, he's hoping to make his fortune in Tombstone. Now it's easy to look at these families' divisions as a good guy versus bad guy situation. The Cowboys are outlaws. The Earps are lawmen. But let's not entirely do that. Keep the politics at play in mind. And further, while I'm not out to trash the Earps, they and Doc Holliday have their own checkered pasts of crime or pursuits not exactly smiled upon by a polite society. Before enforcing the law in Kansas, Wyatt was arrested as a horse thief. He spent time with prostitutes, both as a client and brothel enforcer, and most wouldn't smile on Wyatt and Doc being professional gamblers. It's this kind of background that allows some to believe Doc Holliday even robbed a stage

coach last March. Now, Doc didn't do it. Three Cowboys did it, and Wyatt Earp believes that, if he can capture them, it'll give him the edge needed to beat out Johnny Behan in the upcoming election for sheriff. With that goal in mind, he's made a secret agreement with Ike Clanton and Frank McLaurie, in which they give him the intel needed to capture their fellow guilty cowboys, and he gives them the reward money. Trouble is, that secret seems to have leaked. Now, the ill-kept secret is about to turn this simmering feud into a full-on gunfight. It's late at night, October 25th, 1881. Ike Clanton is at the Alhambra Saloon and very drunk. As he sits lifting yet another glass to

his lips, a slender man with a full mustache takes the seat next to him. This is Doc Holliday, and he's pissed. You are a son of a bitch of a cowboy, Doc starts. Seems that since word of Ike and Frank's plan to betray their fellow cowboys for Wyatt's benefit has spread, Ike's been claiming it's an Earp and Doc-inspired lie, and Doc's not standing for it. I can't tell you everything he says, but Fred Dodge will later recall that, quote, Doc's vocabulary of profanity and obscene language was monumental, and he worked it proficiently in talking to Ike, close quote. At this point, Morgan Earp steps in. Now the story has two sides to it.

According to Wyatt Earp, his brother does his duty as an officer of the law and leads Doc by the arm out of the saloon as Ike follows. But according to Ike, before Morgan gets there, Doc makes it clear that he's looking for a fight by taunting him for not being, to use some old west slang, healed, which means armed. You son of a bitch, you ain't healed. Go heal yourself. It's then that Morgan Earp arrives, and he piles on all the more, saying to Ike, yes, you son of a bitch, you can have all the fight you want now.

At this point, Ike agrees they all leave, but he claims that he's the one who gets up to leave and Morgan and Doc follow him out. Wow. So do you believe Wyatt, who's biased in favor of his brother and friend? Or Ike, who's so wasted, his later recollections won't even get the saloon right half the time? Your call. Regardless of who followed whom, they end up outside, yelling at each other. They're so loud, Virgil Earp can hear them from the Occidental saloon next door. He comes out and threatens to arrest both Doc and Ike.

But things are smoothed over, at least somewhat. Ike and his friend Tom McLaurie even follow Virgil back into the Occidental and proceed to play poker with him and the sheriff Wyatt aspires to replace, John Behan. They do so until six or seven the next morning, October 26th.

But as the sun rises on this dusty town, Ike, who kept drinking throughout their play, is growing angry again. The inebriated cowboy breathes out more threats against Doc Holliday and Virgil's presence. The damn son of a bitch has got to fight. Exhausted, Virgil replies with a warning. Ike, I am an officer and I don't want to hear you talking that way at all.

I'm going down home now to go to bed and I don't want you to raise any disturbance. But Ike doesn't listen. Instead, he gets his hands on a Winchester rifle and pistol, then goes into the streets to proclaim his intention to fight the Earps and Doc. Now, no one's taking him seriously, but waving guns around is a clear violation of City Ordinance No. 9, which forbids anyone other than law enforcement from being armed in town. So much for Virgil going straight to bed.

He hits the cowboy over the head with his pistol, then disarms him. Virgil and his brother-slash-fellow officer, Morgan, then take Ike to court as the final Earp brother, Wyatt, follows. Waiting to see the judge, Ike continues to threaten the Earps brothers, and Wyatt starts to lose his cool.

It's uncharacteristic of this Earp brother to do so, but remember, this is just the latest episode in a long boiling feud. That's probably what's pushing him over the edge. Wyatt yells at Ike, You cattle thieving son of a bitch! And you know that I know you are a cattle thieving son of a bitch! You've threatened my life enough, and you've got to fight. With that, Wyatt storms out.

And as he does so, he bumps into Ike's friend, Tom McLaury. The former Dodge City officer now redirects his anger at this cowboy. Are you healed? Right here, right now. Wyatt yells. He then slaps and pistol whips Tom. The cowboy falls to the ground and Wyatt storms out. Okay, lots of anger building up this morning.

But given Tombstone's strong honor culture brought here by Southerners, this morning's bold talk and altercations are likely more about posturing than real deadly violence. So when Judge A.O. Wallace sees Ike, he merely finds the cowboy $25 plus $2.50 for court fees and sends him on his way. Early that afternoon, 19-year-old Billy Clanton and Frank McLaurie ride into town. These are Ike's brother and Tom's, respectively. They're upset to learn the Earps have pistol whipped both their brothers, but neither came here looking for a fight. Billy is here saying he just wants to find Ike and get him home. Unfortunately, the city is now full of

paranoia, so a noted gunslinger, Billy Claiborne, starts hanging out with them, and they all head into George Spangenberg's gun shop. The Earps and many citizens assume these cowherders are arming themselves to fight. Seeing this as an escalation, Virgil grabs the shotgun he keeps at Wells Fargo and Company for emergency situations. Now Sheriff Johnny Behan comes into the picture. As sheriff and a friend of the cowboys, John considers himself a better candidate to convince the Clanton-McClary group to leave or disarm than the Earps.

He tells Virgil as much, and the Marshal concedes. So, the Earps and the tense city of Tombstone wait as John goes to talk to his friends, now gathering by the old kindersley, or OK Corral. But the time drags. People begin to fill it with speculation. After all, wasn't Ike Clanton at the telegraph office earlier? What if he sent word for backup? Then there's the politics.

Wyatt's running against Johnny for sheriff, and if Johnny disarms the Cowboys, that Democrat will be the hero. Can't have that. So are they really going to just stand here and wait to see how this plays out? Don't think so. It's time for these law-enforcing brothers to do some disarming and arresting. Doc Holliday notices the brothers as they head out. He hollers to Wyatt.

Where are you going? We're going to make a fight. Well, you're not going to leave me out, are you? This is none of your affair. That is a hell of a thing for you to say to me. It's going to be a tough one. Tough ones are the kind I like. Virgil hands his shotgun to Doc Holliday, who conceals it under his coat. Doc in turn hands Virgil his cane as they all march together toward the OK Corral. The Cowboys aren't technically at the OK Corral. I know, we all feel lied to,

and you can probably blame the title of the 1957 film, Gunfight at the OK Corral, for that. They're at an empty lot near the corral's back, just off Fremont Street. And yes, it's named for the famed explorer, U.S. Senator, Republican presidential candidate, Union general and railroad investor that we've met in more episodes than I can count, John the Pathfinder Fremont, who's just finished serving as Arizona's territorial governor.

I know, this guy is everywhere in 19th century America. At any rate, it's now about 3 p.m., and the Earps brothers and Doc Holliday are stepping onto his namesake street. Sheriff Johnny Behan, who's still trying to convince the cowboys to part with their guns or leave, now approaches the four of them, saying he doesn't want trouble.

In full martial mode, Virgil responds that he's going to disarm the cowboys. Johnny replies, I have been down there to disarm them. Unfortunately, this is a huge miscommunication. While Johnny meant that he tried to disarm them, Virgil took that to mean he had succeeded. Their dark coats flapping in the breeze, all three Earps, Virgil, Morgan, and Wyatt, joined by Doc Holliday, approach the 15-foot-wide empty lot between a small house and Fly's boarding house.

What they see shocks them. They find the Clanton brothers, Ike and Billy, the McLaurie brothers, Tom and Frank, but they didn't expect to find gunslinger Billy Claiborne and another friend, Wes Fuller. Worse still, they see guns. Billy and Frank are wearing pistols. There are also two horses here, each with Winchester rifles holstered on them.

Son of a bitch, the surprised Wyatt mutters. Raising his hand while still holding Doc's cane, Virgil announces, Throw up your hands, boys. I intend to disarm you. Frank answers, We will. He and Billy reach for their pistols, leading Wyatt to reach for his and Doc to pull out the 10 gauge. Hold? I don't mean that, Virgil exclaims, still with nothing more in his hand than Doc's cane. The holding ain't gonna happen. Two pistol shots ring out. The cowboys will later say that both came from Earp pistols. The Earps will say young Billy Clanton fired one. Either way, only one person is hit. Frank.

Wyatt shot him right in the stomach. So many things now happen, if not at once, close to it. The cowboys' two unarmed friends clear out. Tom moves toward a spooked horse. Whether he's reaching for a rifle or taking cover, we'll never know for sure. Ike, also unarmed, rushes forward and grabs at Wyatt. The fight's commenced. Go to fighting or get away! The famous Earp brother yells as he shoves Ike off. Ike does run.

He runs like hell. And as he flees, approximately 30 shots are fired in the next 30 seconds. Frank McLaurie is dead. Filled with Doc's buckshot, his brother Tom soon passes as well. Teenage Billy Clanton struggles on for a bit longer, but he too is soon gone. All three will be buried in Tombstone's Boot Hill Cemetery. As for the other side, Doc Holliday's got a grazed hip, Virgil got a bullet in one calf, Morgan has the most serious wound, a bullet entered his right shoulder, chipped a vertebrae, and exited his left shoulder, while Wyatt Earp alone remains unscathed. These casualties aren't the full picture, though. After the courts clear the

Earps and Doc Holliday of any wrongdoing, the next few months see vigilante attacks on the Earps. Virgil is shot and permanently maimed. Morgan is shot dead through a saloon window. The Clanton family is suspected, and Wyatt, now a deputy U.S. Marshal himself, responds by deputizing Doc Holliday and seeking his own vengeance by killing some cowboys. Yeah, that 30-second exchange of bullets cast a long shadow, and clearly, it didn't settle the feud. I have a bit more analysis, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. We have more outlaws to visit, though it stands to question if the next one is so much an outlaw as a pro-Confederate bushwhacker fighting an already settled war. Or is he both?

This is Jesse James, and to appreciate his story, you have to meet him as a Missouri teenager in the middle of the Civil War. Rewind. When Johann Rall received the letter on Christmas Day 1776, he put it away to read later. Maybe he thought it was a season's greeting and wanted to save it for the fireside. But what it actually was, was a warning, delivered to the Hessian colonel, letting him know that General George Washington was crossing the Delaware and would soon attack his forces. The next day, when Rall lost the Battle of Trenton and died from two colonial Boxing Day musket balls, the letter was found, unopened in his vest pocket. As someone with 15,000 unread

emails in his inbox, I feel like there's a lesson there. Oh well, this is The Constant, a history of getting things wrong. I'm Mark Kreisler. Every episode, we look at the bad ideas, mistakes, and accidents that misshaped our world. Find us at constantpodcast.com or wherever you get your podcasts. Was the Sphinx 10,000 years old? Were there serial killers in ancient Greece and Rome? What were the lives of transgender, intersex, and non-binary people like in the ancient world? We're Jen and Jenny from Ancient History Fangirl. We tell you true stories and tall tales of the ancient world. Sometimes we do it tipsy. Sometimes we have amazing guests on our show. Historians like Barry Strauss, podcasters like Liv Albert,

Mike Duncan, and authors like Joanne Harris and Ben Aronovich. We take you to the top of Hadrian's Wall to watch the Roman Empire fall at the end of the world. We walk the catacombs beneath the Temple of the Feathered Serpent under Teotihuacan. We walk the sacred spirals of the Nazca Lines in search of ancient secrets. And we explore mythology from ancient cultures around the world. Come find us at ancienthistoryfangirl.com or wherever you get your podcasts. It's May, likely the 25th, 1863. Working with one of the seven people enslaved by his family, a 15-year-old boy guides a shovel plow through the field of their Clay County, Missouri farm. Yes, the young tobacco farmer is Jesse James.

And while his older brother Frank is participating in the Show-Me-Ststate's brutal neighbor-on-neighbor guerrilla warfare, he's here keeping the farm going. But if he has any romantic notions of what war is, Jesse's about to get his first taste of the real thing. A large hand suddenly grabs the teen by the throat. His assailant is a fellow Missourian, a Clinton County Provisional, or a Clay County Unionist. They're here at the James Samuel farm looking for the family's son, Frank, and his fellow pro-Confederate guerrilla fighters known as Bushwhackers.

The man roughly shoves James across the freshly plowed field, torturing or beating him in the process. Accounts differ on whether they're using bayonets, sabers, whips, or just their fists, but whatever they're doing, these men are taking their proverbial pound of teenage flesh. Jesse's stepfather, Dr. Reuben Samuel, is a target too. The soldiers put a rope around the 35-year-old physician's neck, then throw the other end over a tree branch while demanding to know where Frank and the other gorillas are hiding. When they don't get their answer, up the doctor goes. Reuben's legs flail in the air.

Jesse's mother screams at the soldiers as her husband swings. Then they let the rope go. As the gasping doctor drops to the earth and sucks in air, they ask him if he's having an easier time remembering where his older stepson might be. Now some of the more romanticizing accounts of Jesse James will say Reuben bravely refuses to break, but that's not how Lieutenant James Roberts remembers it. He later reports that, quote, his memory brightened up and he concluded to reveal the hiding place of the rebels, close quote. They

aren't far, just in the nearby woods. And now, the Union loyal men give chase. While Frank escapes, five other bushwhackers are hit. Legend will call this the day that put Jesse on his path to joining his older brother as a pro-Confederate, Union-killing bushwhacker a year later. One biography written shortly after his death will assert, quote, They had waked into full life and furious passion the sleeping lion in his, Jesse's, nature, and he had gone forth to join with Frank in the search for vengeance, close quote.

That's probably a bit simplistic. This was a traumatic, damaging moment for Jesse, no doubt, but this transformative origin story overlooks the long pro-slavery, turned pro-Confederacy history of Jesse's family and upbringing. Perhaps this painful day in Jesse's life is better considered, to quote noted Jesse James biographer T.J. Stiles, as the culmination of a process. However we interpret it, though, Jesse does join his brother as a guerrilla fighter about a year later,

in April 1864. Of course, we know this already from episode 67. That's where I first gave you the details on how brutal the neighbor-on-neighbor fighting is here in Missouri. It's also where we first met the James brothers as they participated in the pillaging and killing done under the leadership of Bloody Bill Anderson at Centralia in September 1864. So we won't get bogged down here. Suffice it to say that, as the war carries on, Jesse learns how to kill and suffers injuries. He gets shot in the chest

on two separate occasions, once while trying to steal a saddle, and later in a post-appomattox skirmish. As for his other distinctive physical injury, the loss of the tip of his left middle finger, that may have resulted from an accident with a Navy revolver as early as 1863. But as the war ends for the nation, it doesn't for the James brothers. Frankly, it doesn't entirely end for Missouri. Think about this. Even as we saw friends, neighbors, and family members fight on opposite sides during the Civil War episodes, that was the exception, not the rule.

Yet, as we know, this was the other way around in Missouri, and that makes hitting reset even harder. When the people you fought are locals, not northerners or southerners from far distant states, it's just so much easier to keep thinking of revenge. And if you use your wartime tactics of plundering and killing to do so, does that mean you're still a guerrilla fighter? Or are you officially an outlaw? It's just past noon, December 7th, 1869. We're at a bank called the Davis County Savings Association in Gallatin, Missouri.

In one corner, lawyer William A. McDowell, whose office is housed inside the one-story brick building, is hard at work. Meanwhile, a banker assists customers as they filter in and out. And naturally, behind him is that one fixture you can count on in any worthwhile 19th century bank. A large protective safe. A man with blue eyes and sandy hair walks in. He approaches the counter, holds out a $100 note, and asks the banker to change it. About this same time, another man enters the bank. He now interjects, If you will write out a receipt, I will pay you that bill. How fortuitous.

Now at a desk, the banker takes up a pen and starts preparing a receipt. It's the last thing the banker will ever write. The man who entered first with the $100 note raises a revolver. He shouts, Cox caused the death of my brother Bill Anderson, and I am bound to have my revenge. The first bullet cuts through the banker's heart. The second, his forehead. Hearing the shots, the lawyer sprints for the door. He escapes, but not without the quick-turning gunman putting a bullet through one of his arms.

The duo must move quickly. They grab a portfolio laying on the dead banker's desk, dash for the exit, and mount their horses. But having heard the shots and the lawyer scream in pain, the town is already mobilizing. A shot rings out, spooking the gunman's horse. He falls to the ground and is dragged by the scared animal as he works furiously to remove his foot from the stirrup. He succeeds as the second man circles back, lifts the bucked bandit onto his own horse, and they continue on

the same steed until they can steal another one about a mile outside of town. They then ride hard, ensuring their escape. Apart from escaping, the robbery couldn't have gone more wrong for the duo. The snatched portfolio contains nothing of meaningful monetary value. Meanwhile, the gunman, Jesse James, and his partner-slash-brother, Frank, also intended to kill the man who, during the war, had killed their bushwhacking mentor and leader, Bloody Bill Anderson. That man was Samuel P. Cox, and the James brothers thought he was the one working at the bank.

But they were wrong. The man they killed was the bank's primary owner, John Sheets. Botched as the job may be, it's significant for a few reasons. First, the fact that this wasn't just planned as a robbery, but also as a Civil War retribution, shows how blurry the line between Bushwacker and Bandit really is for the James brothers. It also raises all sorts of questions. At what point does the first title end and the second begin? Was the robbery more about money or revenge? This nebulous, ill-defined distinction factors into Jesse's legend. For hardcore former Confederates supporting

Missourians, this elevates the James brothers from outlaws to legitimate fighters still refusing to cave to the Union. A second significant aspect of this robbery is that, although Jesse will write a newspaper-published letter to the governor proclaiming his innocence in the Gallatin robbery, this marks the first time the younger of the two famous James brothers was identified for his bushwhacking-slash-outlaw ways in the news. Now, we really don't doubt his role in a number of bank robberies since the war's end,

including what is disputed but nonetheless often called the United States' original, classic bank heist at the Clay County Savings Association in Liberty, Missouri, back in February 1866. There, some 13 men made off with nearly $60,000 from this bank so closely associated with the Republicans that day. Nine of them were ID'd, and each one was a bushwhacker who also rode with the very quote-unquote brother we just saw Jesse try to avenge, bloody Bill Anderson.

And yes, for many Democrats, banks are a symbol of Republicans. Congress passed its first of a few national banking acts in 1863 to help finance the Union war effort and stabilize the economy. Prior to this law, private or state-chartered banks issued their own currency, or rather, notes, which people could exchange at the bank for actual gold. Now, nationally-chartered banks have replaced them, and they issue currency not based on the gold they have in reserves, but the bonds they hold. You might say this is the end of America's tug-of-war over national banking dating all the way back to the Washington administration. Original Treasury Secretary Alexander Hamilton would be thrilled. Former

Presidents Thomas Jefferson and Andrew Jackson, however, are probably rolling over in their graves. But for all this system did for the United States during the war, staunch Democrats only see further centralization of power. Perhaps worse in Missouri, this system fails to ensure that either banknotes or greenbacks circulate in sufficient quantities far away from the economic powerhouse that is the Northeast. The West and the South often come up short. So yeah, Jesse James can make bank robbing a symbol of their continued fight against Republicans and Reconstruction. These bushwhackers, who, in a nod to the two sets of brothers running things by

the 1870s, are now called the James Younger Gang, also make a symbol out of robbing trains. We've already spent three episodes on the Transcontinental Railroad, so I trust you remember Abraham Lincoln's support for it and all the Republicans involved in the iron horses spread across the United States through national legislation. More than that, though, I'll remind you how counties that invested in railroads often got screwed. Just think of the shenanigans Republican voting Dr. Thomas Durant pulled with the Missouri and Mississippi railroad over in Iowa back in episode 84. Yeah, you remember. As such, some Democrats see the highly disruptive new technology that is the railroad as the

embodiment of nationalizing corruption. And for them, it's all the Republicans' fault. This means that if the James Younger gang robs trains, well, they're kind of heroes. It's about 8.30 p.m., July 21st, 1873. An express train out of Omaha chugs along a quiet stretch of the Rock Island Railroad's tracks near Adair, Iowa. It's growing dark. Engineer Jack Rafferty peers out at the track illuminated by the locomotive's headlight. But as the train approaches a curve, he's filled with

horror. A section of rail ahead is missing from the tracks. Jack immediately applies the air brake, but it's too late. Bullets fly at the locomotive as it runs off the tracks. Jack's neck snaps in the crash. He's dead. The baggage car attached to the locomotive jackknifes, while the next one back is off the track too. The following six cars are less disrupted, but of course, stopped. Six men in Ku Klux Klan hoods move on the train. Those who dare to look out or try to exit their cars get threatened quickly. Get out of here, goddamn you! Get out of here or I'll kill you! Two bandits armed with Navy revolvers holler at Superintendent H.F. Royce, who, though bleeding badly from his bashed up nose,

still tries to look into what's going on. Three bandits enter the express car. One removes his hood. Sandy hair, blue eyes. It's Jesse James. He puts a gun to express messenger John Berges' head and states as a matter of fact, if you don't open the safe or give me the key,

I'll blow your brains out. John doesn't hesitate to produce the key. The safe contains just over $2,000. The rest of the wealth is in bullion bricks from Western mines and too heavy to take. That's disappointing. They expected much more cash. The 28 elite Chinese passengers going to New England for college are riding in the last sleeping car. Remarkably, they're rather undisturbed. This isn't the case for those in the passenger cars, though. Women and children scream, wondering if they're about to die. One passenger musters up the courage to ask a bandit if they do indeed intend to kill the women and children. The hooded man responds, if you get back, we won't hurt you. We are no petty robbers.

We are big robbers. We take from the rich, from those who are able to lose, for the use of the poor. We are Grangers by God. The whole robbery only takes ten minutes. The bandits then take their disappointingly small loot from the express car and ride off into the night. So the James Younger gang has now added robbing trains to their repertoire.

And here, we can see the Bushwhacker legacy at play. That last comment is telling. They are Grangers, the bandits said, which is a reference to a political movement among farmers fighting against the railroads gouging them on transportation costs. And the taking from the rich for the use of the poor bit? While the public has dubbed many bandits as a type of Robin Hood, only Jesse James and his gang managed to craft that identity so successfully.

And as for the Klan hoods, well, that in and of itself says much about the gang's political views. Now, whether Jesse is actively crafting that Robin Hood identity is a good question. He writes letters, which the former secessionist newspaperman John Newman Edwards loves to publish as editor of the Kansas City Times. John also writes his own editorials glorifying Jesse, even as the Pinkerton detective agency tracks him and the James Younger gang. Eventually, the gang splits, and Jesse spends some time in Tennessee before returning to Missouri with the new gang in 1879. But with

Reconstruction over, America begins to forget that Jesse is a bushwhacker. He's seen more as one of these Western outlaws. But even as America's memory shifts, there's one thing that can solidify his fame and make Jesse unforgettable, an early and sudden death. It's the morning of April 3rd, 1882. Now 34 years old, Jesse, his wife Zee, and their kids, a six-year-old son and a two-year-old daughter,

are living in a beautiful white house at 1318 Lafayette Street in St. Joseph, Missouri. Jesse puts on a good front, but lives in a state of paranoia. Many former gang members are dead or arrested at this point, and he knows the law is closing in on him. So Jesse has the Ford brothers, Charlie and Bob, living here to keep him company and help protect him. It's the wrong call. Bob's made a deal with the governor. If they take down Jesse, there's a pardon and reward to come. Charlie and Bob intend to kill him.

Jesse and Charlie are just coming back in the house. They've been out feeding and grooming the horses, and it being a rather hot morning and all, Jesse's feeling it. It's an awful hot day, he notes while removing his coat and vest. He places them on the bed. Of course, if he's going around without his coat, someone could see his guns, and that might give away the man hiding here in plain sight.

He continues, I guess I'll take off my pistols for fear someone will see them if I walk in the yard. He places his belt and holstered guns, a Smith & Wesson and a Colt, on the bed as well. Jesse's with the Ford brothers in the main room. His wife and children are in the kitchen. Jesse's blue eyes fall on the pictures hanging on the wall. Huh, a bit dusty. The bushwhacker grabs a brush, pulls a chair up to use as a stepping stool,

and proceeds to dust one of the pictures. The Fords finally see their chance. With Jesse's wife and children in the other room, Bob shoots the famed unarmed outlaw in the back of the head. At the time of Jesse's death, Americans are as likely to know his name as they are to know the current U.S. president, Chester Arthur. Yet perhaps Bob's

deadly bullet also gave the bushwhacker immortality. Decades from now, when his fellow gang members and this one-term president begin to fade from public memory, Jesse won't. There's more that can be said about Jesse. But as this era of larger-than-life outlaws is drawing to a close, there's one last duo I want you to meet first. They're going to take train and bank robbing right into the 20th century and send the Pinkerton Detective Agency on an international manhunt. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the leaders of the Wild Bunch, Butch Cassidy and the Sund for you. I trace the epic battles between Muslims and the West.

What are the Houthis' objectives in the Red Sea? It's a lesson to the rest of the Muslim world and the Arab world. Do not trust the Islamists. Hosted by me, Thomas Small, an author and filmmaker, and my good friend, Ayman Deen, an ex-Al-Qaeda jihadi turned MI6 spy. Conflicted tells stories of the Islamic past and present to help you make sense of the world today. And now Conflicted Season 5 is being cooked up, coming to you very soon. And in the meantime, you can sign up to our Conflicted community to give you bonus episodes and access to our community hub on Discord. Subscribe to Conflicted wherever you get your podcasts. From Fort Sumter to the Battle of Gettysburg.

From the Emancipation Proclamation to Appomattox Courthouse. From the 13th, 14th, and 15th Amendments to the Compromise of 1877, from Abraham Lincoln and Ulysses S. Grant and William Tecumseh Sherman, to Jefferson Davis and Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson. The Civil War and Reconstruction was a pivotal era in American history. I'm Rich. And I'm Tracy. And we're the hosts of a podcast that takes a deep dive into that era, when a war was fought to save the Union and to free the slaves. And when the work to rebuild the nation after that war was over turned into a struggle to guarantee liberty and justice for all Americans. Look for The Civil War and Reconstruction wherever you find your podcasts.

It's 2.18 a.m., June 2, 189999. The number one Overland Flyer Limited is steaming westward along the Union Pacific's tracks near Wilcox, Wyoming. All engineer W.R. Grindstone-Jones can see is what falls within the beam of his locomotive's headlight. Wait, he's just noticed a red lantern swinging far off in the otherwise pitch black ahead. Like any good railroad employee, Grindstone knows red lanterns are a signal, meaning stop here, trouble ahead. Hmm, there is a bridge up there. Could be an issue with it. Could also be robbers using the lantern as a ruse.

But Grindstone doesn't really have a choice. He applies the brakes. Turns out to be the latter. As the train comes to a halt, two or three masked men jump onto the locomotive, then order the engineer and fireman to pull the train across the bridge. When Grindstone refuses, one of the bandits strike him across the head with a revolver. These bandits will get their way. The train moves over the bridge. Just as it reaches the other side though, a new surprise comes. Exploding dynamite.

The bandits have just blown out some of the bridge's support beams. Now they can rob their target in full confidence that the next train, which they know is only trailing by 10 minutes, can't offer their victims assistance. The passenger cars are uncoupled from the rest of the train. Then the robbers order the locomotive forward once more. It's a good thing. What these bandits have planned could hurt a lot of people if not for the distance. Here, some accounts assert that four more bandits join in,

bringing the gang to a total of six. They order two clerks to open the mail car door. Both refuse, but that's fine. The bandits have more dynamite. The door comes clean off its hinges, allowing the masked desperados to enter. There's nothing of value here, though. Time to see about the express car.

Here again, the bandits order the door be opened. Locked inside, express car messenger Charles E. Woodcock flatly refuses. Not a problem. The bandits have more dynamite. But they didn't anticipate what happens next. Train employees and outlaws alike are in absolute shock as the dark sky flashes and the car's roof and sides fly through the air and rain down on the surrounding area.

Looks like they overdid it with the dynamite. Incredibly, the messenger inside is still alive. Sources conflict on whether Charles has the mental acuity for the robbers to order him to open the safe or if he's unconscious. If he is still conscious, he refuses, leaving the bandits to use their dynamite one last time. Gold, diamonds, fine jewelry, at least $30,000 in cash. Yes, this is the payday they hoped for.

Despite the massive manhunt to follow, the bandits make a clean getaway. Yet that's hardly noteworthy. We'd expect nothing less from members of the Wild Bunch. One of the bandits that carried out the Wilcox train robbery, as this heist comes to be known, was the Sundance Kid. His dear friend and partner in crime, Butch Cassidy, was not. It's possible Butch had a promise to keep.

Back in January 1896, Wyoming Governor William Richards had pardoned him 18 months into a two-year sentence for horse stealing. Supposedly, Butch obtained that pardon through his incredible honesty. The governor asked him if he'd reform with a pardon, to which the Wyoming State Penitentiary convict number 187 replied, Can't do that, governor, because if I give you my word, I'd only have to break it. I'm in too deep now to quit the game,

but I'll promise you one thing. If you give me a pardon, I'll keep out of Wyoming. There's some doubt about that story, but it might explain Butch's absence at the Wilcox train robbery. Besides, even though he wasn't there personally, he certainly may have planned it. I mean, passengers weren't so much as threatened,

no one was killed, and the whole plan was just so damn smooth. The whole thing just screams Butch Cassidy. Though not best friends, Butch and Sundance, or to use their legal names, Robert Leroy Parker and Harry Alonzo Longabaugh, are good friends, and they make a strong partnership. They just click together in so many ways. Both were raised in religious families. Hailing from Utah, Butch grew up listening to his devout mother read to the family from the Bible and the Book of Mormon. He's even named after his grandfather, Robert Parker, who immigrated from England expressly to join his fellow Latter-day Saints far away in the West. And Sundance knows his Bible too.

The Pennsylvanian grew up memorizing scripture and attending the First Baptist Church every Sunday. Clearly, neither is living their childhood faith in the strictest sense. But as their biographer, Tom Hatch, points out, it's worth noting that both retain a deep, if estranged love for their religious families, and apart from

allegedly fighting for their lives on their alleged dying day, neither man is known to have ever killed. That's quite astonishing for seasoned outlaws, especially when Sundance is known as the fastest gun in the West. We have no way of knowing what either thought of their childhood faiths, but both seem to agree with at least one of the Ten Commandments, thou shalt not kill. Both struck out on their own while still in their teens. Both pursued a cowboy way of life and have a love of horses. Both got arrested independently for stealing horses, which led both to serve 18-month prison sentences. They even share a love of the same pastimes, reading, gambling, the company of women, and drinking, though Sundance more than Butch on that last one.

And I suppose we have to acknowledge that both have awesome aliases. Robert, or Bob, or frankly a lot of other names, took the name Cassidy as a nod to an outlaw whom he met and admired as a teen back in Utah, Mike Cassidy. As for Butch, we believe that came from a short time when he worked in a butcher shop. There are some doubts on that one, but that's as best as we can account for Robert's famous moniker of Butch Cassidy. As for Harry, newspapers start calling the teenager Kid as they report on his horse-thieving ways back in 1887. Locked up in Sundance, Wyoming territory, the names soon came together.

The Sundance Kid. It's impossible to say when Butch and Sundance first crossed paths exactly. Perhaps the best educated guess would be in a valley located along the state lines of Utah, Colorado, and Wyoming, called Brown's Park. Along with the desolate, red-hued hideouts in Wyoming and Utah, Colorado, and Wyoming called Brown's Park. Along with the desolate, red-hued hideouts in Wyoming and Utah, Hole in the Wall and Robert's Roost, respectively, Brown's Park, or just the park, is a place of safety and refuge for outlaws. The park is also where you'll find

the Bassett family's ranch, where Butch has always found welcome, and maybe love. If he didn't go steady at one point with the older Bassett daughter, Josie, we do know that he had a relationship that lasted for several years with her younger sister, Anne. And of course, both sisters could ride, rope, and shoot as well as any man.

Anyhow, there's a good chance that the Bassett ranch served as Sundance's introduction to Cassidy and eventual entrance into the Wild Bunch. The Wild Bunch is a fluid game. Numerous outlaws come and go from this turn-of-the-century operation. It's also a fairly democratic group. Butch sits at the helm,

and in time, Sundance becomes a reliable number two. But the Yuton takes in everyone's thoughts on planned heists before he works out the minute details. Between 1896 and 1901, they steal several hundred thousands of dollars in a minimum of eight train and bank robberies. They make it look easy with brilliant strategies like the one you heard about at the Wilcox train robbery. But between all their various successful robberies, topped off with the lucrative Wilcox train robbery and another more than $30,000 successful heist from a bank in Winnemucca, Nevada in September 1900.

The authorities are turning up the heat on the gang. Harder still, the world is changing. The West is settled, connected. Not only is there a telegraph, there's a telephone. They might still outrun a local officer of the law, but how do you outrun the far-reaching Pinkerton detective agency? Not that the usually smart duo do themselves any favors on that point with a photograph they have taken on November 21st, 1900. Down in Fort Worth,

Texas, they and three of their associates, Harvey Logan, Bill Kilpatrick, and Will Carver, dress to the nines and have a group photo taken. Don't get me wrong, it's a great pic. Butch's derby hat tilts just the right way to give off a sense of swagger. His blue eyes look out knowingly over his well-groomed mustache and sharp jawline. Sundance has a slightly more earnest look, his hat's square, blue eyes alert, and wears a fuller mustache. But it doesn't take long for the photo to end up in the hands of the Pinkerton detectives. Then again, Lore claims Butch amuses himself

by personally mailing a copy of it to the bank they hit in Nevada last month. Whatever their thought process was on the now famous photo, they do know they need to get out of Dodge. And by Dodge, I mean the United States. After considering the bounties on their heads Whatever their thought process was on the now famous photo, they do know they need to get out of Dodge. And by Dodge, I mean the United States. After considering the bounties on their heads and the world around them, they settle on

a still remote region of the South American nation of Argentina. A place called Patagonia. The next few years aren't bad. Butch, Sundance, and Sundance's girlfriend, wife, their marital status or lack thereof is a complete mystery. Anyhow, at a place, set up a lovely four-room ranch house in Patagonia. They buy livestock. Basically, they return to their cowboy roots. But they haven't been forgotten back in the States.

The Pinkerton Detective Agency has learned of their whereabouts by intercepting and reading Sundance's letters to his family back in Pennsylvania. Still, the famous agency that never sleeps can't get to them. Extradition is tricky, expensive, and frankly, the railroad companies and others robbed by Butch and Sundance are more than happy to just let them be. Why bring them back to the United States? Let them stay thousands of miles away. So the three continue to live their lives rather peacefully. Sundance and Ada even make a visit to the U.S. between late 1903 and early 1904. But their peace isn't going to last. On February 14, 1905, two Americans head into the bank in the Argentine town of Río

Hayeos. Armed with Colt.45 revolvers, they force bank manager Arturo Bishop to pack a small fortune into canvas bags. The two then dash out, mount their horses, and ride off. They weren't butch in Sundance, but thanks to the Pinkerton agency's wanted poster, Buenos Aires police are sure the two American men are the ranching duo in Patagonia. Suddenly, Butch, Sundance, and Etta are on the run, relying on local friends to sell their possessions. Butch had tried to go straight at least twice previously. In 1899, he had a meeting with the governor of Utah to talk amnesty.

It didn't work out. Shortly thereafter, Butch had a brief, indirect dialogue with Union Pacific officials about giving up train robbing to do some train protecting. The face-to-face meet got screwed up when bad weather delayed the UP's negotiators to their parlay and Butch bailed, fearing he was being set up. Once again, Butch's lesson here was that there's no such thing as going straight. Not for him. On the run, Butch and Sundance return to robbing. With the help of two others, they hit a bank about 400 miles west of Buenos Aires, in Villa Mercedes, on December 19th, 1905.

The four make off with quite a take, but one robber is hit in an exchange of gunfire. Was this Edda? She disappears from Sundance's life at this point. Could she have been hit and killed? Author Tom Hatch doesn't argue this as definitive by any means, but floats it among all the many speculations of where she goes from here. Fact is, we don't know and never will. The only thing for certain is that Etta disappears from Sundance's life. Butch and Sundance find regular employment here and there, most notably at the Concordia tin mines, but they're forever on the run. And we think it all comes to an end three years after that bank

robbery in Rio Hageos. It's November 6th, 1908. Two American highwaymen, who very politely robbed three men transporting payroll for the Arameo silver mine a few days ago, are now in the village of San Vincente, Bolivia. At the high-up elevation of 14,500 feet, it's cold and windy, not the type of place to spend the night outside. They inquire for a place to stay. The town's mayor, Cleto Bellot, tells them that the village doesn't have a hotel, but they're welcome to stay in a spare bedroom at the home of Bonificio Casasola. That'll work. The two give their host some money and ask for sardines and beer. He goes to get their requested meal, but the mayor, who's gotten word of a recent payroll robbery, goes to inform the four-man military patrol

looking for said robbers now in the village. With gun drawn, soldier Victor Torres approaches the Americans' room, but one of them sees him. A fast draw, he grabs his six-shooter and fires at the soldier, striking him in the neck. It's a mortal wound, but Victor manages to get a few more shots out

as he bleeds, staggers, and falls back on the patio. Soon, the Americans are exchanging bullets with not just the small patrol, but armed villagers. No one dares come close to their room, but the whole village has the Americans pinned down and unable to retrieve their rifles, which they left with their mules. This goes on for maybe 30 minutes. The mayor hears what he calls three screams of desperation, then silence. Apart from one officer who fires a single shot around midnight, all remains quiet until the morning. At 6 a.m., Captain Justo Concha decides to try moving in.

Entering the room, he and his men find the Americans are dead. Both had been hit in the arms, but the fatal headshots were clearly self-inflicted. It seems the Baptist and the Mormon had finally taken life. Yesterday, Sundance's shot killed the soldier. And from the look of things, Butch took on the onerous task of dispatching his friend and then himself.

Pearl Hart, the Earps brothers and Doc Holliday, Frank and Jesse, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Every single one of these bandits or sets of bandits have sparked the American imagination. Pearl was certainly no hardened criminal.

Yet, her single failed stagecoach robbery allowed her to be reimagined as Arizona's female Robin Hood in dime novels. Likewise, the Earps brothers and Doc Holliday get sanitized. Once again, I don't want to overreach in this narrative. I'd hardly call them villains, and personally, I still root for them. They just weren't the knights in shining armor

some depictions have made them out to be. Turning the gunfight near but not at the okay corral into a simple story of good versus evil comes at the expense of seeing the political tensions and human failings on both sides. Then there's Jesse James. A bushwhacker as much as an outlaw, I consider him more a piece of civil war history than the West. But certainly, he straddles both worlds. And though a ruthless killer, we've imagined him into a Robin Hood figure too. His killer, Bob Ford, thought he'd become a hero. Yet, not quite. Instead, many came to think of the man who killed Jesse by shooting him in the back of the head while unarmed. That's simply a coward. Finally, we have Butch and Sundance. Well, if any outlaws never die in our minds,

perhaps it's them. There's still some debate if they were, in fact, the two Americans killed in San Vincente. The two men were buried in unmarked graves. In the 1990s, the remains of a Caucasian was located in San Vincente's graveyard, but it didn't get a DNA match on either of the outlaws. So were they just buried elsewhere in the graveyard? Or did they survive and continue to live incognito?

Some think that William T. Phillips, a Spokane, Washington resident who died in 1937, was in reality Butch Cassidy. The claim rests on William's first-person account of Butch, entitled Bandit Invincible. Since the full manuscript came to light in the 21st century, though, it seems more likely that William might have been a former prisoner with Butch back in Wyoming, not Butch himself. More perplexing are claims from Butch's family back in Utah that he visited them long after his and Sundance's alleged death in Bolivia. In her book, Butch Cassidy, My Brother,

Butch's sister Lula tells us he visited the Parker home in 1925. She, her 81-year-old father, and brother Mark related. They chatted all night with this man who had the Parker family grin and knew all the right intimate details. He reported that Sundance and Etta were alive too. He crossed paths with the reunited couple in Mexico City. She tells us that

her brother, quote, died in the Northwest in the fall of 1937, a year before dad died. He was not the man known as William Phillips, reported to be Butch Cassidy. Close quote. And it wasn't just Lula. Josie and Ann of the Bassett family up in Browns Park both said he visited them. So did Butch and Sundance die in Bolivia? What happened to Etta? On both accounts, God knows. And we likely never will. All I can say for certain is,

we love to romanticize our gunslingers and outlaws. Sometimes that means overlooking desperate, difficult origins, or even willful choices to commit crime. It almost always means inventing more pure Robin Hood motives than reality. Though the fact is, they were just people, usually not all good or bad, whose situations don't excuse but perhaps explain them. But there's no magic in that. And whether it's superheroes or decidedly not bad guy thieves in heist films like Ocean's Eleven,

there's power in imagining these figures who can break the mold and right the wrongs of the world. So maybe don't delete Tombstone from your film collection just yet. Besides, its depiction of the actual gunfight is pretty spot on. And who doesn't love hearing Val Kilmer say, I'm your huckleberry. Our time in the wild west might be drawing to a close,

but it isn't over yet. Even at the turn of the century, there's still one place where gold-fevered prospectors, gunslingers, saloons, and brothels abound. Though I recommend you dress in wool and furs and get comfortable as sled dogs. That's right, we're leaving the lower 48. Next time, we're going prospecting in the U.S. District of Alaska. HTDS is supported by premium membership fans.

You can join by clicking the link in the episode description. My gratitude to you kind souls providing additional funding to help us keep going. Thank you. And Zach Jackson.