Timesuck with Dan Cummins - 270: Boone Helm the Kentucky Cannibal: One the Wild West's Wildest Outlaws

Episode Date: November 15, 2021

Levi Boone Helm. The Kentucky Cannibal. Born in 1828 in Kentucky, and hanged in Montana Territory in 1864, this guy was mayhem on legs. He spent nearly his entire adult life fighting, robbing, killing, and running from the law. He killed at least 18 men in various shootouts and other violent encounters. He ended up stuck way out in the woods on numerous occasions with no option for food other than to eat another grown man, which he did if he got hungry enough. He spent his final days riding with The Innocents, an outlaw gang active in Bannack and Virginia City, Montana, before a massive vigilante mob brought them down. Lotta yip, yip, yaw in this one. Hail Nimrod!The Bad Magic Productions charity of the month is IAVA - Iraq and Afghanistan Veterans of America- thanks to you we are able to give $15,800 to this very deserving cause. IAVA serves and empowers the post-9/11 veterans' community. They offer guidance and support, such as helping vets get and use their GI bill, helping them with housing, directing them towards mental health support, and more.For additional information, please go to https://iava.org/Watch the Suck on YouTube:  https://youtu.be/KRCzDxMUH7wMerch - https://badmagicmerch.com/  Discord! https://discord.gg/tqzH89vWant to join the Cult of the Curious private Facebook Group? Go directly to Facebook and search for "Cult of the Curious" in order to locate whatever current page hasn't been put in FB Jail :)For all merch related questions/problems: [e-mail] (copy and paste)Please rate and subscribe on iTunes and elsewhere and follow the suck on social media!! @timesuckpodcast on IG and http://www.facebook.com/timesuckpodcastWanna become a Space Lizard? We're over 10,000 strong! Click here: https://www.patreon.com/timesuckpodcastSign up through Patreon and for $5 a month you get to listen to the Secret Suck, which will drop Thursdays at Noon, PST. You'll also get 20% off of all regular Timesuck merch PLUS access to exclusive Space Lizard merch. You get to vote on two Monday topics each month via the app. And you get the download link for my new comedy album, Feel the Heat. Check the Patreon posts to find out how to download the new album and take advantage of other benefits.

Fame is a fickle food. Poet Emily Dickinson once wrote that in the mid 19th century. Maybe around the same time Levi Boone Helm was roaming the American Wild West. True then and true now. Famous fleeting. It often never comes at all. It's not always or even often based in any logical or rational criteria. Why one person is famous and another is not often confusing?

I'm sure you follow a band, a comic, author, actor, even a podcast to wonder why so and so, not famous or why so and so not more famous. Maybe you think their music is clearly so much better than some other artist who is much more well known. I get it, I do the same thing. When I first read a summary of the life and crimes Levi Boone Helm, I immediately wondered why he wasn't much more well known, why he isn't. Today, much more well known. I love stories of the life and crimes Levi Boone Helm, I immediately wondered why he wasn't much more well known, why he isn't today much more well known.

I love stories the Wild West thought I was pretty familiar with the major names outlaws and gunslingers, but I only heard about Helm because our Patreon supporters are beloved space lizards. They voted this topic up in the time suck app so we'd research him and I do this episode today. And I'm glad they did. If you like Wild West tales or true crime, especially if you like both, you're gonna be glad. They sent this maniac our way.

Along before times, I was definitely familiar with the stories of Wild West outlaws, like Billy the Kid, Jesse James and Doc Holiday. So why not, Helm? The Kentucky cannibal. Was this story just not as bloody or interesting? This story is actually more bloody. Men I just mentioned were hard men not to be trifled with,

but when you look a little deeper into the annals of the Wild West, there were other often harder, more dangerous men. Men more murderous at the very least. But that fickle mistress of fame just didn't grab a hold of their stories. The same way she'd grab a hold of the lesser tales of other outlaws. Some outlaws just didn't meet the right newspaper editor, tall tales author. Billy the Kid claimed 21 murders, but the real total was likely nine. While there are rumors of many more only two confirmed

kills can be attributed to doc holiday. Tall tales around wild Bill ran his kill count over 100 men, but contemporary chroniclers claim the real number was likely six or seven. Levi Boone Hillm confessed to sending 18 men to their graves and to eating at least two of them. He may have killed and eaten a lot more than that. He was active for a long time for around 14 years, but he never gained a level of notoriety quite like the others. Why not?

Perhaps because we tend to like our outlaws to be more than bloody. We want them to be witty, handsome, charming. Levi was none of those things. He was mean, hateable, ugly inside now. He was a brute. He didn't seem to exactly endear himself to any biographers to anyone really didn't didn't make friends with any Wild West authors. Being in the right place, the right time helps a lot with fame and boon didn't benefit there either is crimes happened a bit before America truly became obsessed with Wild West Laman and quick draws

and other outlaws. He was hanged before the Civil War ended and he committed his dastardly deeds up in Montana and Idaho, not down in the more popular Wild West towns of like Dodge City, Kansas or Toomsdome, Arizona, or numerous infamous outlaws congregated along with famous Laman and cities that were wild, but not as wild. It's parts of Idaho and Montana. Maybe most Wild West authors built men's legends felt relatively safer in Dodge City or Tombstone than they did in the wilder confines of rougher boom towns like Florence, Idaho or Virginia City, Montana. So who was Levi Boone Helm?

I was commonly just referred to as Boone Helm. prolific biographical Wild West author Emerson Ho wrote in his book, the only West Wild West book written about Boone, I'm sorry, one of just a few. Title Levi Boone Helm, murderer, cannibal and thief and published 1907, Boone Helm was bad and nothing in the world could ever have made him anything but bad. He was by birth and breeding, low, coarse, cruel, animal-like and utterly depraved and for him, no name, but ruffian, confittingly apply. Man known as the Kentucky cannibal was an outlaw and murderer who terrorized many in mining

towns across the west. He was as another source described a gutsy outlaw who refused to take no for an answer. This dude put the wild in West. Born a Kentucky made his way west in the early 20s or in his early 20s, excuse me, after his wife divorced him after he murdered his cousin for essentially, just not wanting to go west with him. Boone proceeded to commit crime after crime for the remainder of his adult life. Robbery's murders, horse, thievery, and of course, a bit of cannibalism. Why? Because he preferred cannibalism to go in Hungary, because he didn't seem to give a rat's ass what other people thought about his actions.

And maybe probably because he was a bit crazy. He for sure marched to the beat of his own drum. And Boone reached a relatively lawless Montana territory. He joined up with a gang of men who called themselves the innocents. They were anything but they were ruthless road agents who harass robbed and murdered minors and merchants and the gold rush boom towns of Bannock and Virginia City, Montana. The innocence were led by Bannock town sheriff, the outlaw Henry plumber, maybe plumber story is complicated.

We'll meet him today too. To picture the innocence, think the bad guys, the cowboys from arguably the greatest movie of all time, 1993's tombstone with Val Kilmer, Kurt Russell, Samuel, so many of the great names. Why Johnny Ringo? You look like someone just walked over you'll grave Johnny Ringo would have fit in well with the innocence Boonshire did a bunch of men just like him Including the cannibalism for the most part. That was his own thing With his crew Boone or excuse me Helm spent his final years terrorizing innocent people and causing as much chaos as possible spent his final years terrorizing innocent people and causing as much chaos as possible.

An old west sociopath, Boone cared only about pleased himself, drinking sex, fighting, murdering innocent people for their gold, joining the innocents allowed in to share his favorite pastimes with like-minded men. Boone's days in this gang ended with a group of men called themselves the vigilance committee. A vigilante mob decided they were fed up with the innocents terrorizing their towns. This now Mr. Kansas, a law dog, law don't go around here, savvy. Another tombstone quote, going to be several today. The vigilance committee joined together with one mission, identify, capture and execute all road agents. And yet again, I think a tombstone.

Want to want to court Russell? Why it herbs best scenes? All right, Clinton, you called down the thunder. Well, now you've got it. The cowboys are finished. You understand me? You tell them I'm coming and hell's coming with me. God's great movie.

The Vigilance Committee would bring hell down on over 20 men. Their actions would set the stage for future Western vigilante movements and example to other towns that they can make a stand against outlaws and take justice into their own hands and towns and areas where the halls of justice just hadn't been built yet. These vigilantes would bring Boone's life, his violent life to an equally violent end. On January 14th, 1864, when he and his fellow road agents were hanged in the middle of town

for roughly 6000 witnesses to see. Helm's story is a rough and rugged one. I look forward to telling it to you today in another Wild West. Yeah, yeah, outlaw true crime edition of Time Suck. This is Michael McDonald and you're listening to Time Suck. Happy Monday, meet sex. I'm Dan Cummins, the master's sucker, the suck master, blind school recess judo referee. And I lean by just trying to make it and you are listening to time suck. Hail Nimrod, he'll lose a peanut praise with jangles and triple M. I know what's going

on with those island boys. Happy belated veterans day. I know it was last week recorded this episode on veterans day though. Truly though, huge thank you to all the veterans out there active due to reserve duty. Those who have served in any capacity. I appreciate the hell out of the freedom I have and, you know, with no military freedom historically. Sure doesn't seem to last. Right.

Freedom is not free. Our chair to this month is, of course, veteran focused, IAVA, a rack in Afghanistan veterans of America, dedicated to serving and empowering the post 9-11 veterans community. For more info, you can go to IAVA.org. Also, happy birthday to my wife, Lindsey, her birthday also on veterans day. She just turned 18. So we can finally have sex. Hey, I lost the Fina.

Ah, JK. She's 19 or maybe 29 or maybe a couple years older than that. Maybe I'm 18. Hmm. Man, if I'm 18, I'm looking like I've lived a, I lived a hard ass 18 years. I hope and I had fun at the Angel, the winds casino and Arlington, just north of Seattle Seattle this past weekend show there. Just this past this past Friday night on the on the 12th. And then it's off to Denver, Loveland, Tampa, Tacoma, to close out the rest of the year for the Symphony of Insanity stand up tour tickets on sale now for spring 2022 Symphony of insanity dates. San Diego Los Angeles, Austin Orlando, Oklahoma City, Atlanta, Charlotte, Phoenix, Salt Lake City, Davenport, Iowa, Chicago, Raleigh, and Mizzula, Montana. Yes, I'll be at the Wilma on April 23rd.

A long time since I did a show on Montana, I'm excited. It's a really cool venue. Links to tickets at Dancomas.tv. You can also buy Symphony of insanity tour shirts at BadMagicMarch.com. Also just in the store now, a history inspired design. Our art warlock is calling Dan the Great, the Royal Expedition T and poster. Look like Napoleon, I've mounted Nimrod's Unicorn of Knowledge for a long and noble quest for truth and dick jokes. Maybe that poster will one day hang in the museum

or on a dive bar bathroom stall door. Hopefully back up on YouTube this week, our channel got flagged for cyber bullying last week. Apparently, a bunch of people complained about the old pizzeria episode flagged that one of all things. The comment section there is Joe tells me it's anarchy. I guess telling people that their idiots for believing something really idiotic is now cyber bullying. So that's cool. Maybe now a part of wokeism is not being able to shit on anyone's beliefs of any kind. That seems pretty terrible, but maybe I just think it's terrible because I'm old and out of touch and I need to be, you know, I don't know, have my brain realligned or something. I don't know.

Let's see if I can get this episode flag too. If it's not okay to say a mass murdering outlaw was stupid, well, I'll be in trouble again. Now let's get wild. Let's play for blood. Say when? Right now. To set the stage for today's tall tale, I'm going to first give a brief overview of the first gold rushes of the 19th century West and discuss how a bunch of old mining towns became breeding grounds for crime and murder. Perfect places for men like Boon Helm, the Kentucky cannibal, the hide and plane site places to quote tombstones, I cland again, I'll be

quoting them all this often for the show, but what a lot don't go around here. We met the real I can dock holiday suck by the way. He'd be part of the next generation of outlaws, the historical Ike. Helms exploits occurred about 20 years full for old Ike clans. Helms was Wild West OG. We'll discuss when the West was wild. What exactly made it wild? A lack of law enforcement and so many quickly thrown together gold towns. Towns and quickly became full of outlaws, often called road agents. I use that term going forward. A road agent was a term for abandoned or a high women back in the wild west, particularly long, a long stage coach routes. People hide in the bushes waiting to hijack a stage coach while covering these towns also briefly meet some of the wild west other outlaws. Helms contemporaries, more or less, find out who wild west tailed tellers were comparing him to then finally will cover the

life of Boonhelm the Kentucky cannibal from his beginnings in Rook and Tucky to its end in the Western frontier city of Virginia city, Montana. So why did Boonhelm cannibal and killer want to head out West in the first place? Because gold is golden, damn, damn, hills. It really was to make his fortune in gold. At least that's what he said. He ended up making his money in crime now. Doing actual mining was not for him. With the skill set he had, it was easier to let somebody else mine the gold and then, you know, just take it from him. Miners largely came out west via the Oregon Trail, not going to go over details of that

journey since we just sucked it a few weeks back. The Oregon Trail was that 2,000 mile- you know, ish, wagon route that took American immigrants from Missouri to the Western territories. Roughly 250,000 to 500,000 Americans made the journey west and a lot of them were single men, hoping to strike it rich in one of the West New Gold rushes. In January of 1848, James Wilson Marshall, a carpenter, found Golden nuggets in Sacramento Valley. This is considered one of the most significant events in US history in the first half of the 19th century when the news spread thousands of prospective miners were immediately traveling to San Francisco in the surrounding area, hoping to get rich, hoping to make their fortunes.

And many of them did. Because I don't think I mentioned before this discovery skyrocketed poor James Marshall to fame, but sadly, oh, not to fortune not at all This guy's life story is ridiculous. It's ridiculously sad I Find it I'm only laughing because it's not me Marshall and it happened a long time ago Marshall didn't own the land. He found these gold nuggets on John Stutter did so he didn't get to keep his initial nuggets

Marshall's job was to build a sawmill and he did that job. And then his job was to run that sawmill. And by all accounts, he did that job very well. But once word got out about the goal that he found, no one wanted to work for him at the fucking sawmill, he doomed himself with that discovery. Not that someone else wouldn't have found it soon after anyway, but his discovery left him unable to keep anybody employed. Like all his workers just left to go make their fortunes.

And so many prospectors wanted to gather up all the gold where his sawmill was that he ended up losing his job and got let go. The cruel irony, finding that nugget, those nuggets, cost him his job. Then the area around him so quickly got saturated with prospectors, he decided instead of prospecting himself to open up a vineyard. And he lost his ass. A bunch of others also decided around the same time to open up vineyards. And the competition was too much and he goes bankrupt.

Now he tries prospecting and it becomes partner in a gold mine. But he's too late and his mining claim sucks. It yields nothing. Nada. It's a big old bust. Years later here and he's now destitute the California government essentially feels sorry for him, takes pity on him, gives him a pension for his role in kicking off the settlement of the state. And his pension begins in 1872.

Then the state gets into financial trouble and they drop his pension in 1878 and never renew it. Penielus again, he ends up living the last seven years of his life alone in poverty in a shitty one room cabin It looks like someone's tool shed before dying at the age of 74 and 1898 1885. Ain't that a bitch? Poor bastard Imagine being the dude who kicked off the biggest gold rush in US history and Then while watching hundreds Thousands around you become millionaires, you don't make shit. You struggle and struggle and struggle some more.

History is so sad. Never expect the dude who found the gold that kicked off the California gold rush to be such an unlucky son of a bitch. And he was unlucky before all that. Let me quickly finish here on the rest of his story. Just find it so ridiculous. One of the unluckiest men of his generation grew up in New Jersey than headed west as a young adult and was apparently immediately cursed. Must have insulted some old Eastern European mystic

with milky eyes or something. I'm pretty sure that's how it happens. You get himself a little farm in Missouri, started growing crops and then promptly contracted malaria. You got really sick. The doctor says you head west for his health, so he does. And he ends up getting himself a farm at Sutter's Fort, present day Sacramento, California, where he'd find those nuggets later, and he gets a farm with a lot of cattle on it. Works really hard to acquire these cattle and then write when things are starting to look good on his cattle ranch slash farm, the Mexican American war breaks out and he goes to fight for the U.S.

So he leaves to fight when he returns from helping secure California for America. He finds out that literally all of his cattle have been stolen or wandered off. Every last one of them and he loses his farm ranch. And that's when he goes to work at Sutter's Mill and he just keeps getting bent over and fucked, you know, by life for the rest of his days. I bet that cabin shed he spent his final years and was not one of the cheeriest of places sitting there alone, ruminating, reflecting on nothing ever going right. Hey James, uh,

wanna get out of this shed? I mean, I mean, Cabin and, uh, I don't know, maybe go for a walk. Why? So I can get struck by lightning. So someone can sneak in here and steal my bed. No, thank you. All right, James, well, how would you let me cook you up some lunch center? You just you don't look well Well, so you can poison me is that your game? You want to take my lucky pair of boots, don't you? Tell I have left or not today Don't come around here at night neither. I sleep in these boots

After poor curse Marshall's discovery in 1848 California miners would proceed to extract $10 million in 1849, $41 million, 19, excuse me, between 41 and two, Jesus Christ, $41 million in 1850, which is $971 million, $2,000, $5.00. Wrote that in my notes in a weird way and couldn't figure out what I was saying. $75 million in 1851 and and 81 million in 1852. And then after that, the yield gradually declined. Two billion dollars worth of precious metal would be taken out of the area overall. California gold rush hit hard, but didn't last long. After those first few years, miners began to travel north east to look

for new gold deposits. Gold was found in Southern Oregon in 1852 and the Rogue River drainage and in 1854 on the Sanium River. It was found east of the Cascades on the John Day River. Miner shopkeepers, farmers, teamsters, others will all follow the gold. You know, set up these little quick little camps. Few minors continued further north, reporting gold in Washington, Southern British Columbia,

especially on the Frazier River from 1858 into the early 1860s. The Hudson's Bay Company, a British fur trade company, found gold along the Columbia River in 1852 and tried to keep it a secret, did for a few years, but by 1855 word got out. Groups of miners traveled across the Yakima reservation to reach Fort Colville in present-day Washington State. It's made local tribes angry because it violated a land treaty. US Army did then close Eastern Washington to further settlement for a time in 1856, except for minors. They were allowed to keep coming in. So gosh dang. Gold was first found in what is now the state of Montana

by minor Francois Finley in 1852. It got into California, tries luck, but now making the fortune he'd hope for, he soon moved on to fur trading in Montana. On a whim, decided to look in the streams there for gold one day into his apparent surprise, he found gold, sweet, shining gold. He kept his discovery to himself for five years. That real good run. But then some miners returning from California in 1857 got word of his discovery, decided to go to the creek, the prospect all winter, which I knew how much old, gold, old Francois smuggled out of that area. Can't find a source that says, by the early 1860s, the discovery of golden Idaho also

lured settlers and California miners into the Snake River Valley, cities like Elk City and Lewiston, now spring up around gold deposits. We covered this a little bit in the war of motherfucking hall suck, hell pop ward. The Eastern Oregon Central Idaho gold rush lasted from around 1861 to 1870. 1861 about 10,500 men came up to the Columbia River to try their luck. 1863, 20,000 men, 1864, 36,000. So many men came to try their hand at mining because they can do place reminding instead

of hard rock mining when these gold strikes would initially hit place reminding involves separating eroded minerals from sand or gravel sift and that sediment no explosive needed just a prospectors pan and it's most basic simplest form. And a mining pan was pretty damn economically accessible to almost any American and you know getting a tiny bit more complicated. Pan in Pan was pretty damn economically accessible to almost any American. And you know, getting a tiny bit more complicated, you know, you can build these little sifters that are just some wood and some wire. This is how the, how the mining was done at the start of virtually all the big western gold rushes. When place or mining stopped, yielding riches in California,

many of those pioneers who weren't interested in advancing their techniques, getting explosives, digging tunnels, all that. They took their simple gear and moved it to Oregon to look for nuggets there. By 1864, there were 10 major mining districts in the Washington Territory, which included the modern boundaries of western Idaho and western Montana. Fort Walla Walla and the Dalles became focal points for trade between miners. Between 1816, 1890, place reminds and a clear water and salmon river drenages yielded 30 to 60 million and gold. A lot of these early mining camps became towns that then sometimes became cities.

And these boom towns, they grew fast, real fast. And the combination of a relatively large population based solely around building wealth in a territory that had either no or not enough local lawmen made these mining camps, the perfect places for robbers and murderers to target innocent people. Miners and business owners were popular targets for highway men. Of course, because they, you know, they had money because those road men come in to get them. When the towns first kicked off, they weren't holding it in the bank because there was no banks. Wild ass times, truly rugged. Take Virginia City, Montana, one of the mining camps, Helm would terrorize the most.

Gold was discovered in the area at the end of May 1863. Three weeks later, a township was being established, a mile south of a new mining district. Several weeks later, thousands of miners were in the area. Within a few months, there was an estimated 5,000 people and over 10,000 within a year. And there were literally no courts or law enforcement officers anywhere nearby. Nothing within several days right. When it first boom, there were thousands of people, no bank, no jail, just saloons and brothels quickly thrown together. Sometimes in literal tents to begin with, these towns when they first got going, looked more like big campsites where a lot of people showed up to fucking party. And then when the, you know, gold was

gone, look more like that than in, you know, gold was gone, look more like that than a town. And the gold was gone, or at least when most of the easily accessible gold was gone, you know, so was the town, onto the next big strike. Today, Virginia City only has about 200 people. By 1880, just 17 years after booming,

it was already down from over 10,000 to around 600 people. And there were so many others similar, one day, largely or totally gone the next towns, towns with no law enforcement or almost none. If you were a saloon keeper, your sheriff was the double-barreled shotgun you kept under the bar. The American West, largely a lawless land for many years. Although Western films, you know, tend to exaggerate showbies. I tell you do it in Hollywood. There are some accuracies and their portrayals of wild Western society.

The lawlessness made legal sense because most of the land that was was territories and not states when all this was going on. You know, they were not subject to federal regulation or only subject to limited federal regulation. You know, it was changing all the time as kind of fluid. US marshals would roam the Western territories, but not in great numbers. US territories today are subject to US federal law, but that wasn't always the case.

Also, even when there were laws, it wasn't always the, you know, the bodies to enforce them. You can have all the laws you want in society, but if you don't have enough law enforcement officers willing and or capable, you know, properly armed to enforce these laws, well, then the laws aren't worth, you know,

much more than the paper they're printed on. Some territorial areas had no form of government at all at times. For example, in active Congress in 1864, gave Montana a territorial government consisting of three territorial Supreme Court judges, a governor and secretary of the territory, but towns were on their own to get law officers. And when Virginia City formed 1863, when Boone Helm was there, they had nothing official. It was before that act of Congress. To quote one source about life in the West in the latter half of the 20th century, living

in the American West was not easy at that time. There were no laws, no courts, and little or no government. And because of this, it easily lured numerous criminals, some of who were escaping punishment for other crimes, some of who wanted to take advantage of its having no laws, and probably a few who wanted to start over. Boone Helm fit the first two conditions and not the third there. Not really. He didn't want to start over in a redemptive sense, at least, maybe just in a, well,

a lot of officials aren't looking for me here yet. That kind of sense. And what exactly was the Wild West? And how long did this air last? The Wild West generally considered the area from the Rocky Mountain States to Texas across the West Coast. Stereotypical version of the Wild West, they usually think of lasted roughly from 1850s, from the 1850s to around 1900.

The entire area wasn't lawless for that whole time. Sacramento, California would elect their first share for the start of the air in 1850. Joseph McKinney, he'd have a whole bunch of deputies. Things got relatively civilized a little quicker there. Thanks to it being where the first big Western strike hit, but it was still plenty wild for a while compared to a lot of East Coast cities and cities on the plains. Idaho got their first sheriff in 1864. John G. Howell. New towns kept popping out throughout the rest of century, and it took each of them varying amounts of time to acquire their own law enforcement. And a fair amount of them when they did get officials

ended up with corrupt ones, men who found it easier and safer to make money without laws than to continually risk death trying to stop them. They were often outnumbered and outarmed. Settlers and small communities made their own laws and forced them as they saw fit through largely vigilante justice. Lynch mobs quickly thrown together posses. Murders and robberies of innocent people were all too common out west. Murder and physical assault rates were at least 3 to 4% higher in the western states than in eastern states, according to some, you know, crime statistics.

But that's just reported murders and assaults. And I think the real discrepancy was probably much, much higher than that. Hard to report crimes when you don't have any local law enforcement to report them to crime was especially common. Of course, in the mining towns that were fueling expansion, not going to spend a lot of time trying to rob a handful of dirt, poor homesteaders out in the Lamott Valley when you could find a lot more potential victims with a lot more cash in a boom town. Western outlaw crimes in addition to holding someone up for gold, you know, included train robbing, stagecoat robbing, horse cattle theft, rape, murder, local law enforcement

actually did catch you from these crimes. The penalty was usually getting hanged, right? The vigilante mob gotcha, if it was a sheriff, they gotcha, you know, either didn't, usually either didn't get much trouble at all or you got hanged. It wasn't a lot of middle ground, just like it took a while for these places, you know, to get like a share. It also took a while to set up a jail or a prison. So, you know, it's usually like, you know, you kill some people, you get hanged.

You raise some people, you get hanged. You steal some horses, you get hanged. You're out of a bank, you get hanged. When these towns first got going, you know, other justice system, not a very evolved or nuanced. A lot of outlaws would get hanged or shot in the back, maybe gunned down while they were unarmed, whatever it took to get rid of them. While their crimes, you know, have been romanticized, they weren't often beloved when they were committing them. A lot of Western outlaws have been romanticized, of course, in modern media, movies like Tombstone, but back when they were active, you know, most

people just wanted them dead. Rebellious spirit of outlaws like Jesse James and Billy the Kid with their Rebellious spirits unbridled masculinity, daring and danger, sexy and print and on the movie screen later. Not as appealing if they're fucking up your town and or your life. It's briefly meet three famous Western outlaws now before we meet Helm later so we can compare him up against them. We've met these first two before in previous episodes. Outlaw Jesse James born in Clay County, Missouri, 1847. James grew up in a Southern slave owning family in 1864 with the Civil War and full swing. He and his brother joined the guerrilla unit that murdered dozens of Union soldiers. As an adult, he transitioned to robin banks, trains, and stage coaches.

James portrayed himself as a Robin Hood figure stealing from reconstructionists, punishing the South for being pro slavery and giving back to poor southerners. But that's total myth. There was no Robin Hood. He didn't give back shit. I was propaganda pushed to sell papers by a friend of James pro Confederate newspaper editor and Missouri John Newman Edwards. The this myth helped Edward sell more papers in Missouri and it helps his buddy win local

sympathy. They made him harder to catch who wants to turn in Robin Hood. Jesse James ran with James Younger gang for most of his criminal career and the 12 to 15 years. He was active before being shot in the back by fellow outlaw Robert Ford. Jesse James took part in somewhere between 19 and 26 robberies, including banks, trains and stage coaches. It's crime stretch from Mississippi to West Virginia to Minnesota.

Some of estimated he helped steal around five million. And today's dollars. He's one of the few outlaws to frustrate the Pinkerton detective agency and to give it up on catching him as an agency that built their initial fame tracking down some of the West wildest outlaws. After just in his brother Frank Rob the train at Gads Hill, Missouri, January of 1874, the Pinkerton's national detective agency was called into hunt them down. We've also select the Pinkerton's before.

Founded in Chicago in 1850 by Alan Pinkerton, a Scottish immigrant who served as the first full-time detective on the windy city's police force, the private agency was experienced in capturing train robbers by the time they started tracking down James. In March of 1874, after the agency took on the case of the James gang, a Pinkerton detective searching for Jesse and Frank and Missouri wound up dead. All the Pinkerton agent who pursued the brother pursued the brothers, fellow gang members cold and Robert Younger, and another part of the state also killed. Catching the James brothers now became a personal mission for Alan Pinkerton, an abolitionist who had aided slaves on the underground railroad,

uncovered a plot to assassinate President elect Abraham Lincoln and gathered military intelligence for the federal government during the Civil War. Shortly after midnight on January 25th, 1875, a group of Pinkerton agents acted on a bad tip to Jesse and Frank with their mom's farm. they weren't carried out a raid on the place. They threw in sendy area devices into the farmhouse, send them off and explode or set them off an explosion that fatally wounded Jesse and Frank's eight year old half brother and causing their mom is a relative to lose part of her arm. Following this raid public support for Jesse and Frank increased and the Missouri State legislature

even came close to passing a bill offering the men and the state. They didn't get that amnesty, but they did launch an intimidation campaign against their perceived enemies near Zarelda's farm in April that year, one of their mom's neighbors, a former union militiaman who had assisted the Pinkerton agents in preparing for the raid. Well, he got shot to death. Alan Pinkerton then decided to give up his hunt for Jesse and Frank James. That's some intense outlaw.

When the biggest detective agency in the nation, you know, it's just like, all right, fuck it. Just let him, lamb rob. Then the army after him, if you want him caught, we're done. Another big Western name, of course, is Billy the Kid, cattle rustler, gunslinger, murderer, and escape artist. Allegedly, he murdered 21 people before his 21st birthday, but his confirmed victim count more likely around nine

He was born in New York City 1859 his Henry McCarty And later became known as William Bonnie aka Billy the Kid as a child he moved to Indiana, Kansas and Denver before his family settled in Santa And after Billy was orphaned by tuberculosis He turned to theft as a way to make money in 1876. He joined a horse stealing gang in Arizona. You know, there's still cattle rustlers in parts of the states. I just was reading article about that the other day, you know, there's still thousands of cattle that just get rustled in various parts. People just take them.

1876. Yeah, he joined that horse stealing gang and then by 1877, he had his first murder charge and fled backs in New Mexico territory. Still 35 years away from becoming a state. In 1878 he joins a posse called the regulators. Regulators, mount up. By 1880 his name is plastered on newspapers across the country as the notorious outlaw on murder. He was killed on July 14th, 1881 by Sheriff Pat Garrett, who sat in the darkened room and

when the kid entered, saw a shadowy figure and asked Pat Garrett, who sat in the darkened room and when the kid entered, saw a shadowy figure and asked in Spanish, who is it? Garrett shot him in the heart. My favorite Billy the kid outlawed tales, the shooting of a man named Joe Grant. And a lot of these tales, they do get romanticized. But I like to think that some of them happened as they're written. Maybe this one did. When 1880 rolled around, Billy was already a true outlaw.

He was wanted for the murder of a Laman. He also testified against a number of other bad men who now wanted him dead. He's getting by by rustling cattle with a new gang that includes some former regulators, a group calling themselves simply the rustlers. New Mexico territory governor, Lou Wallace, he put out one of the ads for Billy and all the papers in the Southwest and Santa Fe and Vegas. Made sure everybody knew there was a $500 price on Billy's head. And on January 10th, 1880, man named Joe Grant tried to collect that $500 and it didn't

work out too well for him. Billy was having a drink in Bob Hargrove, saloon, an old Fort Sumner home today at the Billy the Kid Museum halfway between Albuquerque and Lubbock, Texas with some friends. Wanted as he was, you know, he's still going to pop into a saloon, grab himself some drinks, part of the outlaw credo it seemed was gonna pop into a saloon, grab himself some drinks. Part of the outlaw credo it seemed was to pop into a saloon, show your face, drink some whiskey no matter how wanted you were. Fuck yeah, bro. That's the outlaw life.

Newcomer to the area, Joe Grant, aka Texas Red. Man described as a bounty hunter in some sources, and as just kind of a general tough guy looking to make a name for himself and others, well, he recognizes the kid, walks up to him and says, I'll kill a man quicker and you will for a whiskey. You clearly looking to establish himself as a wild west badass. I had a bigger set of balls and I've got maybe not a great word Smith though. I'll kill a man quicker and you will for a whiskey. Hmm. I don't know. Sounds like his balls may have been bigger than his brain. It sounds like a sentence uttered by a man short on both brain cells and teeth.

I'll cut him out quicker than you, real fur whiskey. I don't know. Maybe set it cooler than that. The kid steps up to him and says, that's a beauty Joe, referring to Joe's revolver. The kid then takes the pistol from Grant's hand, spins the cylinder, checking to the time to see how much ammunition contains allegedly three cartridges and this wily bastard, according to legend, purposefully moves the cylinder so that the next shot won't shoot shit and then returns the revolver

to grant. Again, grant not coming across as a genius here, letting the wanted man. He supposedly wants to kill here, you know, just grab and play around with his gun. Short time later, Texas Red threatens to kill cattle bearing John Chisholm, not realizing that John isn't there. And then he's talking to his brother, James Chisholm, who Billy's drinking with. Again, not a genius move. If you're planning to kill Billy, the kid and collect that reward, why are you now threatening the guy drinking with Billy? A guy who's not wanted, a guy who, if you kill him, could potentially end

up getting you wanted. When Billy tells him to look for trouble elsewhere, Joe now aims his pistol at the real target, Billy himself. You know, he bragged to some others earlier that he, you know, he's going to collect that bounty. Billy, not real worried about this. Dick Eddie just turns his back to Joe, continues drinking. Joe pulls a trigger. Billy here's the click of the empty chamber because he's a wild West legend full of so much.

Yeah, yeah, he spins around, puts a bullet through Texas Reds brains, which is probably real hard to hit. This is probably small. And Billy walks over to the fresh corpse, looks down on it and says, Joe, I've been there too often for you. I think that's a good line. I think it's up there with Doc Holiday from Tombstone's.

Our beg to differ, sir. We started a game we never got to finish. Playful blood, remember? Billy may have only been 19 years old at the time, but he'd already faced death, taken lives, too often to worry about the likes of Texas red. That's a story at least. Pretty bad ass if it's true.

Now for an old gunfighter, we have not stuck before. John Wesley Harden. Harden may have killed as many as 50 men. A lot of accounts haven't killed over 40. His most famous quote was, I never killed anyone who didn't need killing. Another man who was better about saying a witty cold blooded shit than Joe Texas red grant. Harden considered by many to be one of the, if not the most dangerous outlaws of the wild west, at least when it came to quick draws. Billy the kid, although possessing

more name recognition considered by many to be an amateur compared to hardened. In a way, he was Billy the kid if Billy would have lived a lot longer. Billy died at 21. Harden started killing the young as well, shooting a man down. For the first time when he was just 15, but he lived until the age of 42. All his murdering, though, would take place between 1868 and 1878. And then he'd be imprisoned for 14 years, and it didn't last too long once he got out. Harden was born in 1853 in the state of Texas, and in Texas, he would build quite the legend. He'll be between, yeah, 70 or two, I'm sorry, kill between 27, 42 men.

Many of them, that's what most people agree on. You know, I've said 50 earlier, it's tough to determine exact numbers of these guys, but it seems to fall generally between 27 and 42. And many of them in Clint Eastwood, kind of high-noons, spaghetti, western, quick draw, type showdowns. He would practice his quick draw skills daily for years. He almost always had at least two guns on him, referring to where them in custom cross draw holsters. He had shown into his vest. The guns he carried varied over the years. He was a 38 caliber model 1877 cult double

action lightning, a pair of 41 caliber 1877 Colt DA Thunderers, a 45 Colt chambered 73 peacemaker and on and on. He loved his guns, knew him well. They were the tools of his trade. And here is a summary of a short sequence of some of the crazy, uh, uh, crazy bastards, most daring deeds. On Christmas day in 1869 when he's just 16, he was playing poker into wash, Texas, tiny little lawless, Texas town.

Nothing but a ghost town now that's actually completely underwater. The under Lake Whitney since 1950s. And he argues the man named James Bradley over a card hand. Their Christmas confrontation escalates. And then the man agreed to settle the dispute in a classic main street, high noon type of face-off. Bradley's bullet misses. Hardness is not.

In fact, the time took Bradley to shoot wildly once, Hardenshot Bradley in both the head and in the heart. Just a month later, on January 20th, 1870, in Hornhill, limestone, county, Texas, Harden reportedly killed another man in a gunfight after the two got into an argument about the fucking circus of all places, you know, while watching it. I would love to hear that argument. Trapies artists, maybe they're still out there, you know, it's like their showdown. Trapies artists show was a heat-better entertainment.

That damn human cannonball fella Hell you say! A dark cannonball fella was burstin' at the gills With entertainment You sound like Sony prefers Sultard Peanuts to popcorn Tornation I do prefer Sultard Peanuts to popcorn Oh holy hell Can we at least agree that the clown show was better than the tightrope gal? I love that tightrope gal!

That's it corn dog Bob. Go at your weapon. Less than a week after this incident, nearby Causty, Texas, he's escorting a saloon girl home, aka sex worker, when they were costed by an armed man demanded money. Dude demanded cash from the wrong guy here, hardened through his money on the ground, and then shot the would be thief when he bent down and picked it up. That's a pretty slick anti mugger move. All right, give me all your fucking money. Oh, fella. No need to draw that smoke wagon down on me. Here you go. Oh, a tag, damn it. Why do you have to go on toss it on a dirt like that? Then just bends down to pick it up. And I'll take that right back. Thank

you kindly. kindly grabs money. He takes a take a little interest. Maybe picks his pocket. A year later, Hardin's arrested for killing another man. The Marshall, Waco, Texas, the only murder he was accused of that he denied. He was temporarily held in jail in the town of Marshall. Two guys then tried transporting Hardin to Waco for his trial. And one of the guys rode away briefly from camp.

He shot the other one with a gun. He he bought bought from a fellow prisoner in that jail cell back in Marshall and then wrote off on his horse. And according to a few sources, he soon gunned down three posse members who came to recapture him. A 15 man posse then headed out to arrest hardened, but he got the drop on him, captured two of them stole their guns and then fled to Kansas for a time. I got many years later, after his time in prison on August 19th, 1895, while standing at the bar of the Akmish saloon in El Paso, Harden was shot in the back of the head by John Salman senior. Not long after getting into an argument with John and pistol whipping the shit out of him

in public, pistol whipping a guy. That's a good way to motivate a man to shoot you in the back, get some revenge. All right, now that we've had a little fun going over some other Wild West men's dastardly deeds, let's go to no Boone Helm himself. They can tucky cannibal in today's time suck timeline. But after today's sponsor break, back from sponsors, now thanks for sticking around. To Boone Helm's short and violent life, now we go. around to Boone Helm short and violent life. Now we go. Shrap on those boots, soldier. We're marching down a time, some time line. Quick note on all these dates before I start toss them around here.

Many of them need an asterisk next to them. Sources agree on the date his birth and the date of his death. But everything else is up for debate. So the rest are approximate. That's just how it is with the Wild West with basically almost all the stories. That now off my chest. Let's get wild. Leviathan Boontillius Helm born January 28th, 1827 and Lincoln County, Kentucky, or a man named Levi Boone, Helm was born that day. Leviathan, though, that's a sick ass name for a crazy cannibal outlaw. Leviathan, that guy could have some cool showdown lines.

You got some guts facing me, fella. Well, I don't know exactly how much guts you got right now when I spill them. Or, you know, something like that. Some kind of cool showdown line. Exactly how much guts you got right now when I spill them. Or you know, something like that. Some kind of cool showdown line. Helm was born to parents Joseph and Nancy Wilcox Helm. Not a lot known about either one. Helm wasn't exactly wordsmith.

Never wrote about the early days of Mon Pah, but we know a little. We know that they were disappointed in him. According to a 1992 article in the Victoria, Canada newspaper, The Times, columnist Boone was born into an ill-starred family. Fate was not with them. All five of his brothers eventually would apparently die violent deaths.

His brothers' names, excluding an older brother, nicknamed Old Text, not listed in any sources. We'll meet Old Text on down the trail. When Boon was a young child, the family moved to log Branch, Missouri, small settlement in Monroe County, log Branch, Missouri. branch Missouri, small settlement in Monroe County. Log branch Missouri. Holy shit, that's a name. Very cool place. So log branch was for a brief time, the epicenter of mid 19th century American intellectualism. Now Ralph Waldo Emerson, American philosopher who led the transcendentalist movement, the man credited with popularizing individualism. He was born and bred in log branch. William James, American psychologist and philosopher widely regarded as the father of American

psychology co-founder of a psychological school of thought called functional psychology, founder of philosophical school called pragmatism, which I love very much actually. He moved to log branch as a child, later would teach there at three different universities, two of which still there and still pretty prestigious. Henry David Thoreau, American philosopher, essayist, poet, naturalist, credited with popularizing transcendentalism and simple living whose philosophy of civil disobedience later influenced Martin Luther King, Jr. Uh, Mahatma Gandhi, he founded log branches first library and worked there for a little while. America's first coffee shop built in downtown log branch of a place where these academic luminaries

and others like Walt Whitman, Harry Beatrice Stowe, and Henry James would sip lattes and talk politics, religion, self-actualization and more. Yeah, right. Now, it gets fuck out of here. None of those people had ever even heard of log branch. Log branch was a backward shithole. It was a tiny place that was never real town, never had a post office, not even mentioned on the internet outside of a few references and now out of print Western magazines. Doesn't even have a Wikipedia page,

even dying communities, less than like 20 people have Wikipedia pages. I don't think log branch, probably ever produced a total of 20 people who could read. Author Emerson Howe, Boone's 19th century biographer wrote the, uh, the boy was brought up on the borderline between night between civilization and the savage frontier. And row County, Missouri, pretty rural, then pretty rural now.

Um, and row County is the birthplace of Mark Twain. And he is the only notable person listed on the County Wikipedia page. He was born just only, only notable person of note. There are two. It's like, he was born just eight years after Helm and Florida, Missouri That really is the name Florida, Missouri. That's not confusing at all That's like some Abbott Castello who's on first shit Where are you from Florida?

Where in Florida? Missouri, what you from Missouri? Yep, oh where Missouri from Florida Florida, Missouri. What? You from Missouri? Yep. Oh, where are Missouri from? Florida and around and around and they go. Florida, Missouri was a smattering of houses back in 1835. Now it's no houses.

Mark Twain was four. He and his family moved to Hannibal, Missouri and neighboring Marion County. So he really didn't even like live there that long. Not a lot of exceptionally interesting happenings, happening in Monroe County, Missouri. It's a sleepy community. It's a sleepy community, sleepy area.

Boone was a troubled child growing up there in a large, hard working family. From an early age, he allegedly liked to drink, fight, disobey, authority. Boone also had quota, a lethal temper. And growing up in the country became proficient with guns, knives, and horse riding in an early age. Awesome. Allegedly according to an article in the country became proficient with guns knives and horse riding in early age. Awesome.

Allegedly, according to an article in the January 11, 1976 edition of the Billings Gazette, he also loved to torture younger and smaller children, shocking that that kid would grow to become a problem. According to Nathaniel Pitt Langford, one of the men who was part of the vigilante mob who would finally apprehend Helm and Virginia City Montana, the guy who mount Langford and Yellowstone Park is named after. He wrote, when Helm was excited by liquor, he gave way to all the evil passions of his nature. He was an ill tempered psychopath. He liked to drink, raised out in the sticks to be good with gun knife and horse and also his fists. Source after source says this dude love to fight.

By the time he was a teenager, he started putting on exhibition matches, wrestling and boxing where he'd take on grown men in the area and apparently just beefed their asses on the regular. That must have been so fun for these guys, not emasculating at all. What happened to your face, Pa? Your schoolmate Boonham punched me about town again. Now run along and help your mouth fixed in while while, sitting the corner and crofford. He, uh, Boon loved to show off how tough he was, how manly. His coolest macho trick from this era was apparently to throw his

Booy knife into the ground wall. He was charging along on horseback. They'd leave down from his horse at a gallop snatch the knife up, remount again before the horse had a chance to slow. It could have been a trick writer in the circus, but that wasn't as much fun as whooping ass. By the time he made it to his late teens, Helm started hanging around at local taverns, getting drunk, challenging any man who'd take him up on a fight, fighting some of them who, you know, tried to avoid him. He loved cracking skulls. It's only he made life hell for a lot of people before he became a murderer. He was spotted towards a, you know, or when he was spotted towards, you

know, as far as when he was walking towards the cavern, I bet you could hear this like an audible groan, just like, Oh, shit. Boone Helms coming. We're having so much fun too. All these beatings landed him in jail on a few occasions, but in this era, in this time, you know, in this area at this time, whooping someone's ass just, you know, you didn't get in that much trouble for it. You get like a knight or two in jail. You get a warning from the sheriff, like knock it off. Like, all right.

There's a violent maniac. Sounds like local law enforcement was scared of him. I don't blame him. One time after this now, the tavern beating, when the sheriff showed him a warrant for his arrest, Boone refused to dismount from his horse and instead wrote it into the local courthouse. There was an uproar as he burst into court, which was in session, bellowing curses and insults at the top as lungs demanding to know what full of a judge put his name on the warrant. His screaming

and threatening had the desired effect and the judge rescinded the order for his arrest and waved off the charges of contempt of court. A boon had, uh, you know, earned for himself. And then just wrote out, uh, you know, out of court on his horse with the hell hey judge What fucking fucking think you're doing you have a warrant for me for beating Johnny Doyle's ass Well guess what I have a warrant for you then the court of boon fucking helm Just sends you to a busted jaw and a fine of no less than six missing teeth Uh-oh, no, no help, help must be a clerical error. I've got no quarrel with you.

And what a beautiful horse you have. Both of you welcome to my courtroom anytime, of course. Not sure if that's a tall tail or not, but that horse in the courtroom tail shows up in numerous sources. 1848, the age of 20, Boone Helm, Mary 17 year old, Lucinda Browning. Sources say she was a respectable girl

who thought she could tame this wild beast. She fell for a bad boy and then she got pregnant. Oh, lucky lady. They're both pressured into marriage because of Lucinda's pregnancy and they proceeded to live together and log branch for a time. They had one child, a daughter, who was a terrible husband and father. He was never around to care for his child. If he was home, he was drunk. Beat Lucinda, liked to keep his horse inside of the house. It's still like a real piece of shit. This dude almost never worked. He drank, fought, stole, gambled his parents and Lucinda's parents supported the couple so

that she and their child wouldn't starve. Lucinda quickly retired to the abuse and with her parents and Helm's parents support, divorced him in less than two years. Boone's father actually would pay for this divorce. And that divorce perfectly coincided with the California gold rush. He wanted to head out west and make his fortune in the mining towns in California. It's soon leaving. Never return.

Never see his daughter or most of his family ever again. Sometime in between getting married in divorce, Boone may have also killed his first victim. They've shot an unknown man with a cult revolver, probably a, stemmed out of another bar fight. Not sure how he got away with this one. Maybe that guy, the other guy shot first or something. As I set up top in his lifetime, you know, it's estimated that Boon murdered at least 18 men

and would eat at least two of them. Probably three. As a young adult, Boon already was a murderer and already had a reputation as a choral, some endanguous man. It was a powerful build and turbulent temper, delighting in nothing so much as feats of strength, skill and hardy hood. Physically he was described as medium-sized, hard featured and not intelligent looking.

I love that one old newspaper writer actually wrote that he was not intelligent looking. He was mean, dumb, he was ugly, he was prone to extreme violence. Man, what a nightmare. Too dumb, too prone to extreme violence. What a nightmare. Too dumb, too prone to violence to be able to reason your way out of an ass-woping or a murder from this guy. Dude sounds like a fucking ogre or a troll in a lot of accounts. Just a beast, the bully of the worst kind. One writer wrote that he delighted in nothing so much as feats of strength, skill, and

hardy hood. Activities like reading and spirited debate noticeably absent from from descriptions 1850 boon either kills for the first time or kills again this murder pretty heavily documented boon headnotch california packs up as a few belongings writes to paris mazouri first to call upon his cousin to come out with him once in paris Helm invites his cousin named little burry shoot To go with him and doesn't want it. He's probably like again Probably those guys at the bar. He's probably like, oh shit. Helm's coming. I saw it. You know, I heard him galloping up to and Littlebury shoot

Man, what kind of weird name is that? Name shoot Littlebury shoot Hell you say I do say I'm Littlebury shoot son of Tinkle and Twinkle shoot brother of scooting shoot I have a younger sister the baby of the family little two shoot. There are two versions of what happened next. Some version state that initially shoot agreed to go with him but he was drunk at the time. Now then he sobered up and he's like, I fuck. What do we say? California? Oh man, I just I was playing around and that Boon really didn't like that. The other version is that he

did want to go west but he he just didn't want to go where Helm wanted and they just couldn't agree, got into an argument and then Helm killed him. And he wanted to go to Texas, Helm wanted to go to California, something like that. Both versions do agree on Littlebury ended up, you know, getting killed. According to the most popular, telling the first version's correct in one morning, mid-1850, after a hard night of drinking, Boone wakes up a little burry out of bed like, come on, man, let's get going. And then Littlebury's like, what?

No, that was fucking kidding around. And then Boone said, oh, we're going, or else. And then little burry, at that point, he should have pointed behind him and be like, whoa, what got birds at? And then when Helm turns around and look, he's just like takes off running. Instead, he responds with, or else what?

And you don't say shit like that to Boone Helm. Boone got so mad he stabbed his cousin the chest, stabbed him between the ribs right into the heart, rode away in his horse. And you know, Littlebury died pretty quickly. And then Boon fled for California alone. William shoot Littlebury's brother, his name on fort, she was not scouting. He then organized a vigilante posse, begins pursuing Boon, first of many posse to hunt this man beast. Boon, though already around 40 miles ahead. William shoot realizes needs more help returns to Paris where he purchases some faster

horses where he hires two men named Joel Moppin and Samuel Query to follow him. Then they try and put out a bunch of information. They get information that Boone is hiding out in a reservation in Oklahoma. Now he employs this brother of his victim, employees and native man and a deputy sheriff to go arrest Boone. And these men do find Boone hiding out in the reservation, but he's not like in a town. He's way out in the woods alone. But the time they come upon him, he's starving, dehydrated and out of his mind. One source says that his beloved horse, the one he wrote into the courtroom with the one he kept in his own home, it's dead

and tied to a tree. Boone's on the ground near it, looking haggard and completely out of his mind trying to suck moisture out of some mud. He's babbling and skittish and then to hogtine him. He doesn't seem like the tough guy he'd been before. Man, you're having a rough day when you're sucking on some mud next to your dead horse. Hopefully you're not at your best then. If that's your best, oh man, you're in bad spot. Too much time out in the woods,

you know, alone, the death of his horse seems to have led to some sort of nervous breakdown. A boom now gets some lawyers with the last of his poor parents money and they manage to get his trial postponed. Sources say, boom, would bankrupt his parents for head and west. Boons lawyers applied for a change of venue twice, the third hearing, they seek postponement on the grounds of the absence of material witnesses, they're manipulating the courts, not a recent invention. Boone finally does appear before a judge and is convicted of murder but not hanged. The court determines he didn't seem right in the head. Actually the quote is, didn't seem right in his head.

Sure didn't. It sent him to be locked away in an asylum. A sanatorium. Described as both those terms for the rest of his life, somewhere in Missouri. No sources reveal the exact location as to asylum. Apparently once in the asylum, Boone gets a regular meal, gets him rest, his mind steadily starts to come back to him, and then he quickly convinces his orderly

that he's a model, calm patient. You know, he rapidly recovers. He behaves perfectly. He's a gentleman, for the first time in his life, doesn't cause trouble. And the asylum Boone's orderly, happy with his progress, soon starts to indulge him with daily walks out into the nearby wilderness. Now, what could go wrong with that guy who just stabbed his cousin for not wanting to ride with California with him? Let's allow him to walk around the woods, which is one trap around.

One day, Boone asked for permission and are a willow grove. It's a little further away from the asylum. He's orderly agrees. And then the next day and the next day and the next day he keeps asking to go back to this willow Grove and this guy keeps agreeing and he keeps going a little further out, a little further out when he come back. It's getting this guy to let his guard down further and further. And then just a few weeks after, you know, showing up in this asylum, eventually he just doesn't come back. And the orderly, you know, is getting more and more used to him just walking around.

He just like hangs out by the asylum, just chatting up with the back. And the orderly, you know, is getting more and more used to him just walking around. He just like hangs out by the asylum, just chatting up with the buddy. And then pretty soon he's like, Hey, oh shit, where the fuck's Boone? It's been a while, it's been quite some time. Yeah, he's gone. He vanished. He took off into the woods at the spring of 1851,

just leaves Missouri. That orderly didn't seem to take his job too seriously. Man, if they didn't hang you back in 1851, feels like it was pretty easy to escape justice. I usually open the asylum, yeah, cool for a few weeks. And then you just like, hey, can we go walk around the woods?

Come on, board, come on, just you and me. It'll be fun. Okay, I guess there's no problem. We were so late, we were like, hey, can I, can I just walk around alone around the woods? It's just, I just like the woods. I'll come back, I'll come back.

I'll see you in 20 minutes. No big deal. You promised not to kill anyone or run off. Nah, yeah, promise. Totally 100%. Okay, all right, enjoy yourself. Boone gets lost in the woods again when he escapes. This time, before he has a breakdown,

he comes across a lone prospector, making his way out west. This man takes pity on Boone. This man shares his food and water with Boone and then Boone repays him by bashing his fucking head flat with rock. And he takes all his shit in the heads of California.

Now, he has a donkey, a tent, food, rifle, mining gear and more. Along the way, he will later claim to have to murder a few folks here and there for food money. He could remember how many. That's why that number 18 who confessed to you seems like at least 18 to me. Doesn't seem like he was similar to a modern serial killer.

He really kind of kept track of things. He had an MO who got some kind of sexual satisfaction from killing. I don't think he was keeping a journal, making log entries about his kills or keeping trophies, putting a few of their teeth on a necklace or something. He was just an opportunistic killer. If you had something he wanted and the opportunity came up to kill you and get that and probably get away with killing you, well, then you got yourself killed. He encountered a man who was a lone out in the woods. As a good chance, I got murdered. If he was hungry, there's about 100% chance I

got murdered. Some point deep into his journey west doesn't sound like he took any main trail. He went, you know, long stretch without coming across anyone and he runs out of food. So he kills a donkey. Makes a bunch of jerky. I don't know why that's funny to me. Starts walking west with as much food as he can carry. He got a heap of donkey jerky now. That sounds fucking terrible.

Donkey, donkey journey might, donkey, donkey jerky might be delicious, but it doesn't, it doesn't sound delicious. I don't know why it doesn't, because I don't know why that animal sounds less delicious. Like deer jerky is fantastic. Cow jerky is great. Donkey jerky sounds like a fucking punishment, you know? Do that again, you'll be sent to your room for a week

and have to live another but Donkey jerky. Anyway, he starts getting real real hungry after he runs out of Donkey jerky. I bet you're super hungry. I bet you're extra starving when you've run out of donkey jerky. Like when you've been living on pretty much nothing but donkey jerky for weeks and then you run out of that man now you're super hungry. And he comes across another lone traveler and shoots him dead, you know, Helmbeen Helm. And then he discovers that this guy didn't have any more food on him than he did. He was hoping this

guy had something in his camp. And now he becomes a Kentucky cannibal. He starts a fire. He cuts into this guy helps himself to some some man stakes and, but it's not enough. No, he's still, he's still too exhausted. Still, it's a push on. He's, he's tired. Doesn't know if he can be able to make it to the rest of the way to California. He'll later say that he laid down on this, if that's guys camp was ready to die. But then he saw hiding in a corner of the man's tent under some blankets. A fuck-ass-a-fucking-wiffle! Watch down that man-me with some whiple.

Kentucky cannibal addition. Got some idiots finger stuck in his throat. Choking on some miscellaneous holes Can't fire roast an asshole Watch it down with Wipple Kentucky cannibal addition What's in it? Dynamite, gunpowder, the tears of beta males

Who couldn't stay alive in the woods And a picture shot the fuck up With enough Wipple, Kentucky cannibal addition You can walk from Missouri to California Over the river and through the woods to grandma of those house You do not go because grandma's born as fuck She isn't paying gold hooking up with saloon girls drinking whiskey getting in bar fights Shooting fellow tough guys down in the street or doing anything cool

So get your soft ass out of the woods. Don't be afraid to eat anyone you meet fuck you fuck your family and drink Wait, hold on everything I just said is true. Except the Whipple stuff. He did eat some of that guy. He did not find any Whipple, unfortunately. No, surely after eating some of this dude, he comes across a group of travelers and he's able to trade some weapons for a horse. And on this horse, he will ride all the way to California. It's crazy. This guy made it from Missouri to California. Not following the Oregon Trail in 1851. Not part of a wagon train. Not having a wagon, just all by himself.

This guy's, he was just a murderous ghoul, a race and a cowboy hat, a character out of some western horror graphic novel. Just murdering, you know, anyone he can along the way, if he can get away with it, maybe eating them. His life doesn't feel real. From 1851 to 1858, Boone will live all over California. He'll never stay in one place for a long, just move him from one mining camp to another.

And Boone town after Boone town, he'll meet a lot of shady characters. Men a lot like himself. Again, I think of Tombstone. I don't know. There's just something about him. Something around the eyes. I don't know. He, just something about him, something around the eyes. I don't know. He reminds me of me.

Nope. I'm sure of it. I hate him. Helm killed several endoules when duels were so common that no one paid a bunch of attention to him. He wasn't known as a quick draw, but he did kill some guys and duels. The story and destiny, Boone killed around a dozen men in various California mining towns, maybe more. Partnered up with other bandits. He robbed

stage coaches here and there, rob miners out on trails, hit out in the hills to rob and or kill passerby's yet most of his kills, it seems were, you know, sneaky kills. You know, shooting people who didn't know they were going to be in a fight with him or shooting people when they weren't looking that kind of hung out in saloons and brothels, gambled, just raised a whole bunch of hell everywhere. He went, this is, this is not a guy you ever wanted to cross paths with. Eventually, Boone made his way up into present day Oregon along the Columbia River with some fellow road agents. He'd stay there for around a year, ruining more people's days, months, lives.

By the fall of 1858, Boone was hanging around the Dallas, Oregon, where the local sheriff had grown tired of him and his gangs never in a bullshit. We wanted to kill the sheriff. We wanted to arrest him for consi robin people getting into bar fights, et cetera, but not all his posse agreed they should kill the sheriff. And they voted on what to do, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to themselves and risk of vigilante justice. The group agrees overall to leave the area without killing that sheriff. Boone's disappointed.

He doesn't like the decision, but he goes along with it. He and around another six men decide to head east to Camp Floyd in the Utah territory now. Camp Floyd is about 20 miles from Salt Lake city. On the way, they think you know, maybe they'll swing through the new boom town of Virginia city, President A Nevada, or the Comstock load, massive silver deposit has just been discovered. A lot of new, you know, just getting rich folks there to rob and kill. Maybe they'll swing through wall to wall to wash in turn, maybe fort hall Idaho. They weren't a real big hurry to get to Utah. And they wanted to rack up a fortune and pillage a variety of places on the way. They wanted to make sure they had plenty of money for all the women. They were still going to be spending it on due to some fundamental

misunderstandings regarding the practice of polygamy. Apparently, Boon and his gang of fellow geniuses thought they were heading towards a land of sex crazed, some kind of orgy haven, you know, Utah women just plentiful and promiscuous, just a land of milk and honey and pooples waiting to be loophole. I love the one source wrote about that. According to future Montana vigilance committee member Nathaniel Langford, Boon and his gang soon worked with members of the so-called snake tribe band of natives to attack a camp wallowall of tribe members who owned about 4,000 horses.

In present day, Southwest or southeast Washington, uh, just north of eastern Oregon. Boons crew around 10 men or so now wanted to take the horses all the way to Salt Lake City, roughly 600 miles to sell them. One helm party member, a man named William Groves, decided he wasn't into this plan. He wrote off back to the Douse and he double crossed Boone and the others for reasons never made entirely clear. Sent the news of what they were up to to the chief of the Walla Walla tribe. Boone's horse stealing plot is foiled.

He gets shot at but not hit. He and the others end up stealing a few horses, but just enough to kind of write off for their personal use, but not enough to kind of write off, you know, for their, enough for their personal use, but not enough to sell. Some US marshals are now going after the gang for federal horse theft, but they never catch up with boon and the others. I find it funny in the wild west trying to steal horses or stealing horses, but often get you in more trouble with law enforcement and say some random murders.

One night around this time, sitting around the campfire, boon tells his group about this dude he'd eaten on the way out to California. Allegedly, he told him, many is the poor devil I've killed. And one time or another, sorry, many is the poor devil I've killed at one time or another. And the time has been that I've been obliged to feed on some of them. So maybe it already tasted, you know, more than one fellow. When they asked him why he did that, why he ate human flesh, he said it was because of your fuse to go hungry.

He warned them that he would then eat human, or he then warned them that he'd eat human flesh again if he needed to. And that had to have been a uncomfortable campfire moment. Imagine those dudes having a little sidebar later. Do you see the way he was looking at me? When he told us that he would eat human flesh again? He came up to my chest like he was eyeballing a filet mignon. When you turned around, I swear a bit of drool.

Dribbled off his chin when he gaze upon your hindquarters. We're sleeping in shifts now. I turn it into no bone burger. Not October of 1858, boon and the other, yeah, five or so guys ended up somewhere west of the mountain, main mountain range in each in Oregon. Sorry, there's hesitation on some of this.

The western authors, that is one thing I alluded to it earlier, but Wild West authors notoriously tall tale tellers. So, you know, and a limited number of sources. I love Wild West stories, but I think part of the reason they're so cool is, you know, there is mythology mixed with fact. And, you know, in some of the stories, it's like, you know, 15 guys,

headed out there and boon killed 14 of them. And another story might be like, two guys headed out and they both made it alive. Kind of very, so you just try and like synthesize all the stories and be like, I think this is the most common, they seem to have been the best sources. So the number of the people he was traveling with here,

I had a real hard time figuring out what that number actually was. Some sources would say six, some sources would say more. And some sources would do weird stuff like they would say that he told these guys the story that apparently got out and spread his legend, but then all the guys he traveled with died. And I'm like, wait a minute, well,

if all the guys he traveled with died, how were any of those guys able to spread his tail? So that's that's why I've gone over to so many times, but even this time further recording like hesitation moments. Okay, so when they reach the area of present-day Northwestern Utah, this band of however many five six seven eight they get into a fight with some tribe members retreated to the wilderness of the Wasatch mountains. Two of the gang are killed in this fight. There are many members get lost further. Trusting to fortune to bring them safe into the settlements. Fortune not on their sides. Sounds like a few, maybe split off, you know, to make it out and alive, to tell the story of the Kentucky

cannibal. One stayed with Helm. That year, the thermometer consistently read 30 to 40 below zero up in the mountains. There was about 20 to 30 feet of snow inm. That year, the thermometer consistently read 30 to 40 below zero up in the mountains. There was about 20 to 30 feet of snow in places, allegedly in these idiots were not equipped any special gear to survive these harsh conditions. This happens to Helm a lot. He'll just like go way out in the woods. And for a guy who spent a lot of time in the woods, he just doesn't seem to ever fucking have equipment. It's like, you see, very impulsive, which makes sense for a guy who kills a lot of people. Not a planner, Levi Boone Helm.

You know, he's like, let's go into woods. Should we get a sleen bag or a tin? I said, we're going to the woods. Okay, okay. All right, maybe not even a horse? Now, I'll fuck. All right. Chronicle later wrote the ensuing expedition across the freezing Oregon mountains, one of

the most terrible ever recorded in the history of the Old West. And it was just how one of the guys helped out a few other men. They make their way to Soda Springs, an area in present day Idaho. Their horses are exhausted. They have nothing to feed them, so they kill the horses and they survive starvation by eating these horses, which did happen here and there. The snowstorm leaves them stuck in the area for weeks. The men made a hut in a valley ate their horses until all the meat ran out. Right.

They're he's eating fucking donkey jerky earlier. That was living on horse take. And when they're out of food, they make snow shoes from the hides of the horses, continue their march to Fort Hall, taking blankets as much meat as they can carry according to author Emerson Howe. The party was now reduced to one of those awful starving marches of the wilderness, which are now and then chronicled in Western life. This meant that the week must perish where they fall.

On the third day of the journey, one man becomes snow blind, left to die two days later, two more drowned in a river crossing. Boone in his last companion, Hal Burton. This seems to greet upon the sources that ended up being these two guys, Hal and Boone. They leave a few others behind. They try to save their own lives right there, pushing ahead eight days into this new leg of the journey. The last of their horse meat runs out that they brought now they're eating whatever they can find along the way, like prickly pear cactus under the snow three weeks into

this new leg of the journey. Boone and Burton almost reached Fort Hall then Burton falls victim to snow blindness and exhaustion. They find an abandoned cabin. He stays there. Boone walks ahead reaches Fort Hall alone, but the fort was unfortunately temporarily abandoned. There was no food in it. It was a hundred miles to the next settlement. So Boone goes back to the cabin where this other fellow, how Burton is, goes inside and he says he finds Burton dead from the self inflicted gunshot wound, or he kills him and then just tells others later that he shot himself. Either way, he stays behind and now he eats some of his friend.

He's supposed to eat one leg then wrapped the other leg in a red flannel through it over his shoulder and marched east. He imagined seeing this motherfucker out of the forest. Like, he'd be better off running into a grizzly bear or a pack of wolves. This is a crazy mountain. He must have looked so insane. You know, I doubt he's keeping himself real clean. I doubt he's, you know, he's hitting a barber shop on a regular basis, just out in the wilderness all the time. He's probably just got wild

ass hair with fucking twigs and bugs in it. Crazy ass beard that makes mine look, you know, like I got a close shave. Just walking around with some dudes dudes legs slung over his shoulder so I can snack on it. That's quite the image. As the final survivor, Boone makes it to Salt Lake City, just like he'd made it to California before alone. And this guy saw a lot of the West, right, without roads. It's tough son of a bitch. For the whole month of April 1859, Boone wandered to the mountains of utah alone to on foot to make it to salt like city

a rancher john pal finally found him took pity on him gave him clothes and then he was the one who took him to some settlements around salt lake pal noticed the boon carried a bag containing apparently fourteen hundred dollars in coins but did not asking for payment for services good call that would have gone over well but apparently never thanked him abandoned pal as soon as he reached the Mormon settlements. He must have liked Powell, right?

He didn't kill him. Didn't take his shit. That was his thanks. That was a boon thanks, not murdering you. Powell described Boone as one of the toughest Westerners ever to lace on a pair of boots. Author Nathaniel Pitt Langford obtained an account from John Powell about his interaction with Boone. Langford's description of Helm, the main source we have for the details of his journey to the mountains.

Boone continued his lawless behavior in the settlements of Salt Lake, cause of course he did. He lived in these settlements for two or three months. He bragged about his murderous exploits and then went on a spree of excessive drinking and sex. Not everyone in the early days of Salt Lake city were religious.

Oh my heck, they had outlaws, saloons, brothels, maybe just kept it a little bit more secretive. Helm eventually joined up with the band of horse thieves and Salt Lake organized by two men named Johnson and Harrison. They planned to steal animals from the Overland Male Company, the US Army. They succeeded in running into California with one or two drives, the horses and mules. Some of these outlaws, you ran with this time, would later say that Boone killed two government employed herders while rustling with them. Boone, while still in Utah, I suppose he also got hired out as a hitman by some local Mormons, may have killed some men in that capacity, men that they wanted out of town.

Then local law enforcement saw like city, it had been around about a dozen years at this point, wasn't totally lawless. Now they chased Boone out of town. And they put up wanted posters in the area. I went Boone went into a saloon in the town listed in old newspaper articles as a low die Utah. You know there is no low die Utah anymore. Must have been a short live campsite. Little gold camp town. Clerk recognized him attempt to do arrest him and then Boone shot him in the head. Now this one man, Reckon Ball makes his way alone back to California.

On the Los Angeles area, rancher named Tomlinson be friends him, helps him hide from authorities. Boone repays him by killing him and taking his shit. And then he fled to Oregon, classic boon. He thought he was going to thank you. He just got booned. Author Emerson Howe wrote it this murder. He showed no understanding of the feeling of gratitude, no matter what was done for him. On the way to Oregon, Boone Rob, you know, more people, maybe killed several more men. He just bounced around with the Old West all over, just bringing nothing but death and misery and mayhem.

Let's break off now from the vague details of Helm related horror and meet a man whose story would become intertwined with his Henry Plummer, possible future leader of the innocence. That Montana gang Helm would write the last chapter of his life with. This guy's narrative was a bitch to put together because of wildly conflicting accounts. There's two main kind of narratives about this guy. One is that he was definitely a law man and always a law man. He was just a good law enforcement officer and just a good dude overall.

And there's another narrative that says, yes, he was definitely a law man, but also really an outlaw underneath. And under the guys of the badge or under the protection of the badge, he did all this kind of, you know, heinous shit. And then, you know, the some of the counts say that that's slanderers, and then I don't know. I will say more accounts have him written up as an outlaw and law enforcement officer than the accounts that just portray him as a law officer. Another interesting Wild West life for sure. On the spring of 1861 Henry Plumber arrived in Lewiston, Idaho. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Well, city, I've been to many times. Home of Pop Awards, most frequent in gambling scene establishment, the Clearwater, casino. Home of a lot of back to school shopping trips from my old schoolboy days. According to the narrative, the Plumber was a bad, bad boy. Quickly got involved with some local gamblers, Lewiston, made plans to rob some successful minors and started him a gang. Lewiston barely just was getting going in the spring of 1861, who would be incorporated that year on May 13th.

A gold rush had begun in the area of the previous fall. Nathaniel Langford wrote of Plummer's First Gang and thus originated the band of Desperados, which for the succeeding two years by their fearful atrocities spread such terror through the northern mines. Plumber was their acknowledged leader. They became so formidable in numbers and their deeds of blood were so frequent and daring that the mining camps were awed by them into tacit submission and witness without even remonstrance, the perpetration of murders and robberies in their very midst.

Plumber soon started dividing this time between terrorizing the road between, you know, divided this time between Lewiston and Florence Idaho just terrorizing anybody in between. He'd meet Boone and Florence in 1862. Now William Henry Plumber originally spelled Plumer born in Washington County, Maine back in 1832. Dude really had to travel to make a West. He was the youngest child of a prominent pioneer family. His father, older brother and sister's husband to make a West. He was the youngest child of a prominent pioneer family. His father, older brother and sister's husband all sea captains. But the youngest son intelligent good-looking

had a, had a slight build, had consumption, aka tuberculosis, just like Doc holiday. Why Johnny Ringo? We started the game we never got to finish. Playful blood, remember? All right, Lunger, let's do it. Because he was a longer he couldn't carry on that C-going tradition. So in 1851 the 19 year old attracted by the drier climate of the West and the possibility of making a fortune in gold. He headed for California.

On April 27th of that year he sailed from New York aboard the US Mailship Illinois. Passengers debarked in Panama by Mule train crossed Panama City. The board of giant ship described as a floating palace named the Golden Gate. And precisely midnight on May 21st, they steamed into San Francisco and plumbers coast to coast trip to the gold fields took only 24 days. That is exceptional. If you remember from the Oregon trail suck, usually took months, sometimes many, many months. So that male ship could move. Any happened to live in the right place also You know lived near the seaport of New York City

Once the San Francisco the eager youth first took a job at a bookstore after a year He had saved enough money to buy a ranch and mine in Nevada County About 150 miles north east of San Francisco Year later he traded some mine shares for a business in the county seat and fellow merchants who were impressed by his business integrity Persuaded him to run for the position of town marshal and city manager. Since Nevada City another town started in Goldboom was at that time the third largest settlement in California. The job was an important one politically. An election held in May of 1856, Plumber 1 and he did a good job. By all accounts, you know, he did a good job in this

time here. He was not only prompt and energetic since noted, but when opposed in the performance job. Uh, by all accounts, you know, he did a good job in this, in this, uh, his time here. He was not only prompt and energetic citizens noted, but when opposed in the performance of his official duties, he became as bold and determined as a lion. Among the daring manhunts that kept him constantly in the public eye was his pursuit of Jim Webster murder suspect who was terrorizing two counties. Our efficient city marshal, the local newspaper code found Webster and companion asleep in bed with their pistols under their heads their pistols were quietly removed in the two taken into custody.

The future possible gang leader didn't cause trouble as a young man like Helm had done. He wore the fabled white hat before he put on the black one if he ever put on the black one in 1857 plumber handle one reelection recognizing the colorful 24-year-old as a rising star. Democrats now chosen to run for state assembly, considered a shoe and he seemed destined to become the youngest man sent to the new California legislature, but in a twist of fate, the Democrats argued and split one faction launching a devastating smear campaign against the other.

That's crazy. They used to attack each other then too. And then Plummer went down in a humiliating defeat, reeling from his first real setback in life other than having consumption, I guess. Now the man who's still the city marshal becomes involved in the marital problems of John and Lucy Vetter. Got himself in the middle of somebody else's marriage and it didn't work out well for him. Not overall.

John was an inept gambler who not only abuses wife but also at times abandon her and their sickly daughter. Desperate because you could not find housing in the overcrowded town. John heard that residents in trouble could go to Mr. Plummer for advice. And for listening to John's plea, Plummer vacated his own home allegedly and allowed the vetters to rent it from him. So maybe he really was a very good guy at this time. Or as some suspect, you really wanted to fuck John's wife.

And probably was fucking John's wife. Soon after a passing pedestrian hears cries coming from the house, rushes to the door, sees John beating Lucy on another occasion, a neighbor reports watching John knock Lucy to the floor and quote, pinch her nose until she can scarcely get her breath. That's terrible and weird. Pinch her nose shut like an aggressive form of, you know, older brother abuse or something. When the observers notified Plummer these injuries, he provided Lucy with a police card now and sent a lawyer to counsel her on divorce.

John now ran to that he would kill the Marshall and one night he was seen scurrying from score store to store, asking to borrow a gun. Again, citizens notified Plummer who now confronts the rabie husband, somehow calls him down temporarily. But then Plummer helps to arrange to get Lucy out of town now. She used to depart on a stage coach at 2 a.m. one night. And that night when Plumber was sitting in his house by the stove, watching Lucy pack, John tipped toad up behind him, swung open the door, points a pistol at him. Your time has come. The gambler said and quickly fired twice and misses.

And then Plumber fires back and kills him. But then Lucy dashes out into the street, crying hysterically that Plumber had killed her husband. And that's a strange reaction if he was just defending himself and defending her. So did he shoot second? Yeah, just weird on her part to hurt for her to react like that. If she's fleeing town to avoid her husband, a little suspicious. Soon a jury concludes that a marshal who would send a lawyer to break of a marriage must be a seducer. Plum her swears he and Lucy never had an affair, but who knows and he's found guilty. The second degree murder. A judge sentenced him to 10 years in San Quentin, which opened back in 1852 during his trial. Plumber falls ill with consumption under

inadequate prison care. His condition rapidly deteriorates. And then while he lays in the prison sick ward on the verge of death, former policemen, hurrys to Sacramento with petition for the governor, Henry Plummer, the document read as a young man having an excellent character, the protest of Plummer's innocence, bore signatures of more than 100 officials, 100 officials from two counties, Governor John Weller immediately granted a pardon, but instead of exonerating Plummer, he chose to cite the less controversial grounds of imminent dangers of death from consumption. Now the disgrace and alien ex-Lamanaman returned in Nevada city where he gradually recuperated. Then he got back into mining and he couldn't and he couldn't totally let go of his

lawman ways when he did. First he made a successful citizens arrest of San Quentin escapee 10 year Smith. Well, these guys had nicknames and later attempted in in a arrest of escapee, Buckskin Bill. Buckskin Bill Riley, when Riley whipped out his booing knife and slashed the ex-martial cross the forehead, Plumber shot him to death. Immediately, Plumber then surrendered himself to police, locked him in a cell called a surgeon,

the suture is wound. Police agreed to Plumber Jackson's self-defense, a fearing that his prison record would prevent a fair trial, counseled him to leave the area, then allowed him to walk away from the jail. Now plumber follows the gold stampede, to Washington Territory, which the time still claimed Northern Idaho before Idaho Territory formed. And at first he continued to behave like a peace officer, shortly after arriving in the

streets of Lewiston, technically in Washington Territory at that time he dissolved a lynch mob, apparently with an eloquent address. These men maybe guilty of the crime of murder," he pled. But we shall not be less guilty if we put them to death other than by due process of law. This rogue effort on behalf of law and order would maybe be a turning point for plumber, put him in bad stead with the pro-vigilante factions present in the mining camps, and here his story gets complicated. Here's when it diverges, right?

Now some accounts write about him as a guy who continued to pretend to be a good guy while really being a gang leader, organizing a multitude of robberies, basically some kind of sneaky mob boss. You know, some accounts say he starts this gang called the innocents. That would feature a rotating cast of road men that would soon include Boone Helm. But other accounts say he was never part of the innocence. And when later hang his innocent man swept up in a wave of vigilante justice, the victim of a lynch mob making hasty and not often good decisions when it came to one's true innocence

or guilt. I don't know what you count to believe. The people who say he was framed essentially say that he was always speaking out against vigilante justice against lynch mobs. And that did not endear him to people who formed lynch mobs. I will say this dude sure got himself into a lot of situations where he ended up killing a guy. Soon after he bounced around to other mines in Northern Idaho, after Lewis and like Florence,

where he may have linked up with Helm and also Orfino and Orfino Saloonkeep, Repatric Ford, ejected Plumber and some companions and Ford's Orfino dance hall. Or Fino's only about 40 miles from Lewis and then Ford and some men some men follow plumbers friends to a horse table fired at them with two guns. Why did they do this? Because plumbers stopped them from killing men. They wanted to kill back at Lichten or because plumbers companions were criminals, robbing minors and they they found out. We'll never know for sure.

And return fire plumbers now kills for third guy is killed. At least in the dead man's Irish compatriots then raised a mob hellbent on lynching plumber. He flees to the each and side of the bitter root range. It runs along the border of Montennaido. So many people back then had to fucking this flee from angry mobs. What a weird, weird time to be alive. You know, I haven't seen how the hell thing's been. Oh, not bad. See, past year, had to flee from only two angry mobs. So a little bit of the year before. Yeah, so he makes it the border of Montana, Idaho,

after this third instance, when she'd been forced to kill him in order to stay alive. Now, suppose he feels too disheartened to try and rebuild his lawman career, and he decides to return to Maine. He's down with the West, but he's not down with the West. He doesn't make it. He heads to Fort Benton.

He makes it there. Second oldest settlement in Montana. Established in 1846, 42 miles north east grade falls. Fort Benton was the world's innermost port at one time, the furthest point of navigable water on the Missouri River. You can technically go from on a boat, from Fort Benton, Montana, and you can make all the way to New Orleans, about a 3500 mile trek. And you can make it out to the Atlantic. As plumber waits to board a steamer east, the, the agent of, of a government farm in the

community of Sun River by present day, great falls, rushes into the fort, begs for volunteers to defend his family against an anticipated native attack. Plumber, still a good guy, maybe, agrees to ride back to Sun River with agent James Vail. As did Jack Cleveland, a rowdy horse trader who unbeknownst to plumber had trailed him all the way from California. Why was he trailing him? Well, because Cleveland got into trouble in California and the law sir had trailed him and that law or a law officer had trailed him a Henry Plumber hat.

So weird here. So now inside the walls of a small stockade and Sunriver, both Cleveland and Plumber fall desperately in love with the same woman, elect a Brian, the delicate and pretty sister-in-law of Agent Vale. It's just reading like a western pulp fiction romance novel. Elective falls in love with Plumber. Cleveland not happy. You know, her love, Rikindel's Plumber's Dream for a lofty career in the frontier, the

two enjoying autumn courtship, Plumber promises to head to the boom town of Bannock, Montana. Gold was just struck there in 1862 and then the spring hill returned to Mary, electa and build a life together with her. Bannock is now a pretty cool ghost town. If you get a chance, it's a state park with over 60 structures still standing. I'd love to visit. Uh, anyway, when he bids his betrothed farewell to head to Bannock, the resentful Cleveland is riding alongside plumber. Two men make a Dibanik bolster by whiskey courage. Cleveland then tries to kill Plumber on January 14th, 1863. As Plumber set warm himself by the fire and Bannock's good rich hotel saloon, Cleveland attempts to provoke a shootout. Even after Plumber fires a warning shot into this saloon ceiling, Cleveland

will not back down twice he goes for his revolver. And twice before he can get off a shot, he takes a ball from Plummer's pistol, Cleveland dies of his wounds. And then following the code of justice at the mines, you know, self-defense is a judge according to who first goes for a weapon. A miner's jury honorably acquits Plummer. So he's now killed his fourth guy. Then in May of 1863, these same miners elect Plummer to be the sheriff of Bannock and all surrounding mines. He's back in business. The young man who now became the law at the

new mines had received a majority that far surpassed that of any other official. No man, a Sacramento Union reporter stated, stands higher in the estimation of the community than Henry Plummer. The newly elected sheriff organized a deputy network throughout the camps and triumphantly rode to Sun River for a June wedding. After he settled his bride into their log home at Bannock, he convinced citizens of the need for a detention facility to end the current practice of immediate hangings. He raises money to construct the first jail in what is now Montana. And Bannock would briefly be the territory's first capital city. The Union League, Bannock political group, even now votes to unanimously

recommend Plummer as a deputy US Marshal. It won't become one, but you know, they think you should be some miners will later recall seeing the Gentile manor peace officer Plummer wearing an elegant overcoat, patrolling panic streets at dawn. And his supporters will say that during the final months of 1863, when a rash of crimes sweeps, panic and the surrounding area of the older gold mines, he was not the leader of the gang known as Yinesens. He just got swept up in an insane hanging spree. The last of the month and eradicated 21 men suspected of, suspected of belonging to the

outlaw gang. Plumber before being hanged had publicly stated that he intended to put a stop to territorial lynchings. Was he killed by the mob because, you know, again, angry mob members just don't like him talking about putting an end to angry mob justice. Maybe this innocent really was innocent. Uh, in his 1890 book, vigilante days and ways, author Nathaniel P. Langford, one of our sources, wrote that Plumberhead previously headed an outlaw band in Lewiston for three

years before coming to Montana, but other sources state that Plumber was residing in California for most of that time. And preserved documents suggest Plumber spent just three weeks in Lewiston. So some sources also attest to Langford and Plumber were rivals. They really didn't like each other. The Langford was jealous of Plumber becoming a Bannock sheriff that, uh, you know, Langford had his own aspirations, political aspirations, or Langford and his fellow businessmen established freight companies, a sawmill and other businesses in Bannock and they were sick of being robbed by Plumber and his men. Who the real Plumber is is a mystery?

You know who definitely was not innocent? Boom, mother fucking hell, the Kentucky cannibal is guilty of shit so much. Let's back up to 1862 and reconnect that cannibalistic lunatic with Plummer. And 1862, or I guess not reconnect, we'll reconnect with history and then connect him with Plummer. There we go. Words are hard today. 1862, Boone arrives at the Boone town of Florence, Idaho to try his hand at goldmine. Well kind of.

He came there to rob miners, beat people up, maybe kill a few fellas. So less mining, more beating up miners. Settled in 1861, Florence only 14 miles as the crow flies from my hometown of Riggins, Idaho. I used to camp in the area of what was once Florence as a kid all the time. Literally have pan for gold. An old ponds created by old long closed mines there.

Once found a bunch of mica, thought I had made my fortune, did my mom pointed out it was only Fuels Gold. Some of my favorite childhood memories are of camping around Florence. No cool ghost town there though, unfortunately. Thousands lived there in 1862. Only 250 would still be there by 1864.

And today, only a few foundations, few building foundations, and an overgrown cemetery remain. Florence allegedly became the established headquarters of plumbers gang in 1862. Helm didn't join him in Florence, but became a quaint Aquainted with their operations Florence was isolated from other towns isolated from the government had no law enforcement great place for outlaws The town did have a sheriff named Charlie Harper, but according to Langford he was stained with the darkest crimes

But can we trust Langford? I think so most historians seem to hold him in higher steam than Plumber. Florence was a perfect town for Plumber's gang to target minors, right? In a sense, they able to commit crimes, apparently in broad daylight, and get away with it. Langford wrote a Florence, whoa, to the unfortunate miner who went to the town, if it were known or believed that they were any treasure on his person, if not robbed in the spot or lured into a herty girdy saloon or cheated at a gambling table he was way laid by the skies ruffians on his return to camp and by threats and violence or when these fail by death itself. These guys' riding style is so weird these wild westhails. Lured into a herty girdy saloon be where the herty girdy saloon.

West Hills. Lord, into a herty-gurdy saloon, be where the herty-gurdy saloon. The roughest type of saloon. Imagine if you walked into place, excuse me. Are you the owner-propriet of this saloon? Is this a herty-gurdy saloon? Well, I'll be taking my business elsewhere then. June of 1862, now 34-year-old Boone kills a man in Florence named Dutch Fred. I feel like fucking every single person had a nickname. June of 1862, now 34 year old Boone kills a man in Florence named Dutch Fred.

I feel like fucking every single person had a nickname. No one was just like Bob. I got Dutch Fred. I got the Texas red. I got Johnny Blue. I got Malcolm, a twitchy finger. Everybody has that something extra. Dutch was apparently a man of reputation as a fighter. His friends called him chief, so he had a couple of nicknames. He was apparently a man of reputation as a fighter. His friends called him chief, so he had a couple of nicknames. He was an honest man. He liked drinking gamble when he was drunk. Apparently he liked to fight.

So he sounds like a typical boom town, just rough yet. Man, the West, not for the week. Feel like, you're not gonna come across like these people like, what did, you know, Dutch red or Dutch Fred want to do? Well, he liked to read. I enjoyed poetry. He liked knit. He was really into baking.

So now, Boone, who we know also like to drink and fight, is persuaded by one of Dutch's enemies to fight him. And instead of a fist fight, he goes straight to gun duel. A witness later said, Helm with many oaths and epithets and flourishes of his revolver challenged Fred to an immediate deadly combat. The bystanders of the Sloan Brook of the fight confiscated Boone's gun, Boone apologizes

and leaves, but then he returns a few hours later. Dutch Fred is still there, Boone asks a Sloan keeper to return his revolver to him, promises he'll leave. Just give it back, I'll leave. And then this idiot gives him back, well, I mean, I idiot, probably fucking terrified of this guy. He gives this guy, this gun, and then, and then Helm immediately heads over to Dutch Fred, and then just, you know, guns him down

while he's sitting at a gambling table. Apparently he missed the first shot, but the second Pierce Dutch is heart. Boone then looked at the crowd of witnesses and yelled, maybe some of you want more of this. No one did. Everyone said quiet, because he was fucking crazy. And then Boond just walked away.

Don't you have a put your hands on me, C? Don't you have a tron manhandle of cowboy? We'll cut you goddamn pimps, hot out. You understand me, pimps? More eye-clan from tombstone there. Telling Virgil, ERP, that he'll do as he pleases. That's why this is like, the more I got into the research, the more this suck made me like tombstone.

And I already love tombstone so much. Fearing some type of revenge later for shooting an unarmed man that was not acceptable in the Western code of honor, Boone now flees Florence next day. US marshals will be alerted to his crimes. Helm now rides a horse all the way back down to San Francisco, which is quite a ride. Holy shit, this guy spent a lot of time by himself

on the woods. And he got a kind of ship back up north to Victoria, British Columbia, not long after making it to San Francisco, he probably committed more crimes lost to history, had to run from somebody else. I don't know, maybe a couple of motherfuckers down there or something, had some San Francisco sourdough and cowboy legs steak, sammies in Canada. He and two partners staying in Victoria for a week, which just incorporated that same year, frequenting bars and brothels. The area had become a gold boom area in 1858 when the with the Frazier Canyon gold rush. This whole thing, what a crazy place in time. All these towns popping up and gold booms all over the place, fucking maniacs like Boon

Helm, popping up and so many of them. How much was suck if you were just like a honest prospector, a nonviolent man trying to make an honest living, right? You're mining, you're moving from boom town to boom town trying to support your family, following the gold rushes, and then time after time, right? When things are going okay, Helm shows up, right? You're like, no! That dude's already robbed me in five other towns! Can someone please kill this guy already? It just cracks me up to a lot of these same characters. They just bounced around to all the same boomtouts. I ate all over the West July of 1862 boon in associate rob and kill three traders on a trail near antler Creek in the British Columbia and British Columbia North of Victoria that Creek was kicking out about ten,000 a day worth of gold at that time.

One of the men Helm Kills is Duchy Lewin, right? Rhybed of Victoria in 1858. Can't be Bob again, can't be Ken's, can't be Duchy. Duchy Lewin had later moved North to the Caribou area to sell cigars and fresh fruit to miners. It was welcomed by the community, married the daughter of a local shopkeeper. In June of 1862, Boone happened to be drinking at the Bayard hotel in Caribou.

And someone there mentioned that Dutchy Loon was making a fortune from the Caribou gold rush. And Helm heard all the ballot. And a few days later, Dutchy leaves town with two men and Helm follows. On July 26, 1862, Loon reaches the place called Captain Mitchell's bridge. A man eaten dinner at a stopping house near the bridge. Advise the group to take to North trail because it was easier to travel than the South trail. Boone Helm, most likely in this stopping house over here is this conversation.

When the three men's bodies are found, not very long later, there was no corner to examine them because Canada Wild West and in the areas only constable, literally too drunk to work that day because Canada wild west. Locust call a meeting like Reverend Arthur Browning as the corner for the day. He declares a verdict of willful murder because each man had a bullet through his head. So he's very good at doing, you know, forensic police work. You know, they're like, who's the smartest guy here? Reverend Arthur Browning Browning, what do you think happened?

These looks at him and each got a bullet in the head. I think they were killed. Oh, what? How shocking. The rest of us couldn't put this together. Everyone in town said that boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom,

boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, out into the woods, again with the fellow outlaw. Win and trouble. Boone Helm loves to flee into the woods.

On October 12th, 1862, Boone travels down to the Frazier River and is quickly, quote, reduced to the danger of a starving foot march in the wilderness. So we starving in the woods again. That's not good for whoever he sees or whoever he's with. And he's with this other fugitive and guess what? He kills him and eats him. He kept thinking of red dead redemption too with this guy's story. And if you played that game, the Murphy brewed those characters supposedly based on hell,

my guess. Soon afterwards, this backward monster makes it to Victoria. He's arrested. Perry had been traveling with another fugitive. The constable asked him, where's his buddy? And apparently he says, do you think I'm damn full enough to starve? We're not going to help it or we're not going to help it. I ate him, of course.

Fair enough. He later pulled some sort of JK. I was just joshin' and is not charged with murder. Actually, the only charges they could get for him at the time was for stealing apples from a fruit stand and refusing to pay his taboo bar. Police Sergeant George Black wants to keep him in custody until he can inform Idaho authorities that they'd captured a fugitive, wanted for killing an unarmed man in Florence. That story had made it to some US marshals, but the marshals didn't make it to Canada

fast enough to get him. Boom, pled guilty to the charges for the fruit and the whiskey is fine. 50 bucks sentenced to 30 days in prison spends his 30 days behind bars then gets on a steamer and head inland to Fort Yale, British Columbia and now a US marshal arrest him. And then that marshal will get him all the way down through a couple little shenanigans that are too kind of all over the place to bother incorporating here into Boise, Idaho.

And Boise, Boons, Older Brother, Tex, Tex Hamill, Tex shows up. Tex happened to be working in the mining industry in Boise, and when he finds out his bro's in jail, about to be tried for murder, he sets out on a mission to buy out all the witnesses and Florence. And he does, because Wild West. When the day of Boone's trial comes and Boone is transported up to Florence,

none of the witnesses show up and he is released. That had to be a good thing to be a criminal too, but these Boontowns popping up quickly and leaving and people just keep scattering and scattering. If you can delay your trial long enough, well, then it's not going to be any witnesses. Boone's free again. Good for no one but Boone. He heads back to Boise with his brother, allegedly text tells him, now Boone, if you want

to work and make an honest living, go down to Boise with me. But if you must fight and nothing else will you do, I will give you an outfit to go to Texas where you can join the Confederate armies and do something for your country. Boone tries to live in Boise and become an honest minor for a couple days. And then he's like, fuck this. He tells his brother, he does want to go to Texas. country. Boone tries to live in Boise and become an honest minor for a couple days. And then he's like, fuck this. He tells his brother, he does want to go to Texas. The text gives him clothes, a horse and food, and then Boone leaves Boise, but not for Texas. He heads to Montana instead and joins the innocents. In December of 1862, Boone shows up in Bannock,

joins Henry Plummer's gang within a few days of showing up in town. Plumber, if we believe that narrative, you know, lead me in a sense. He was planning robberies in Montana just like he'd previously planned, you know, robberies night to hope. Innocents are gluten-packed trains, killing pioneers. Plumber's making outlaws as deputies, and one of them is boon, Kentucky cannibal hell. Every successful minor in business owner in town are targeted by these robbers according to some accounts. One old paper reported, if one of them needed clothing ammunition or food, he obtained it

on credit, which no one dared refuse and settled it by threatening to shoot the person bold enough to ask for payment. That's fun. Residents walking the streets in fear every day is some new act of violence or murder. But then an outlaw named John Long. He's captured by some vigilantes near Virginia city, Wild West, author Henry Plummer, Hader, and first Yellowstone National Park Superintendent Nathaniel P Langford on that committee.

And a return for clemency, John Long implicates Plummer, Boonhelm and others in a string of robberies and murders. Boon making quite a name for himself in Bannock in Virginia City where he's likely robbing and killing unsuspecting settlers left and right also doing weird shit like getting drunk and riding through town on his horse late at night shouting quote, look out. Boone Helm is coming. Again, what a fucking weird time in place to be alive. Imagine you just laid down for bed and you hear a gallop and horse, maybe someone firing

their gun, then some known murderer, some asshole, now his yelling, look out, Boone Helm is coming. And he don't complain, right? You're just like, up, this is what I have to live with. If you can plane, you're as good as dead. It's good thing Boone Helm didn't know about the A-hole air banjo academy. I feel like he would have loved that old time, so joke,

and I feel like he would have used it to torture people. He would have made everyone else around him their lives even more miserable, right? Middle of the night. After yelling something like, look how Boonhelm is coming. Maybe Hopps office horse, rips out some riffs, bitch didn't know how to musician. Did you reckon you fuckered messing up? But I think I'm thinking I'm thinking I'm thinking I'm thinking I'm thinking I'm thinking I'm thinking oh you don't like that one? Let me know you don't like it, and I this here occasion. Bank, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang,

bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang,

bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang folks in Virginia city, the principal settlement of the older culture mining rain, region, over 10,000, you know, people and cabins and tents scattered in the areas we talked about earlier. According to one source, every third cabinet town was a saloon of brothel. The crack of the revolver was often heard above the Mary notes of the violin. Street fights were frequent and has no one new win or where they would occur everyone was on his guard against a random shot. God, that sounds like a stressful place to live. You know, go out and get a drink. Imagine that. You know, you're heading to the

bar down the street from where you live and they walk in and it's just full of dudes with six shooters who will use their weapons on you if an argument escalates. You know, imagine some of those being, some of these other dudes being psychopaths who just want to stir up trouble. I'll fucked up on whiskey. Not the best place to head out with your lady. Unless you're not afraid of a fist fight that might turn into a gunfight.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, I was just trying to order a drink. Come on, come on, how do we get here? I just want to, I just want to have a little fashion not why am I in a duel? Can we just arm wrestle? Okay, let me just concede victory, please. Stage coach, Robert Rees, happening constantly.

It's anarchy. I guess the stage coach, Robert Rees, Robert Rees, were happening the most on the route between Virginia City and Bannock. This was the innocent's prime, lute and territory. The road had streams, canyons, mountain passes, ledges, willow thickets, andyons, mountain passes, ledges, willow thickets and valleys for them to hide in a taxed-stage coach's or pack trains.

When old account, the robbers had their established points of rendezvous on the road and worked in concert by a system of horseback telegraphy as unfailing as electricity. Whenever it was known that a person with money was about to leave by coach, a private mark was made upon the vehicle, which would be recognized whenever seen at several ranches where the coach horses were changed. When the approach of the coach was perceived at either of these changing stations, the herder and charge mounted his horse and rode hurriedly off to drive up the horses for the next route, which were generally feeding inside of the station. Sometimes they straight off and the coach would be delayed until they were found,

but this was of infrequent occurrence. A lot of people not surprisingly getting sick all this madness. December 1863, a final robbery frustrates the citizens of Virginia, city enough that they decide to really take action against the innocence. The actions of a man named George Ives was the final straw for the settlers of Virginia City. And what led to the formation of the vigilance committee. Ives was a road agent, innocent. One of those gang members, he liked to patrol the main road on a horseback, threatened anyone who even looked it in the wrong way apparently.

Virginia City residents found it, Nicholas Tabaltz body in a field along this road. He was an innocent man, not that innocent, innocent, not capitalized, who have been robbed and murdered just a few days later, residents spotted ives with tabalt stolen mules. Allegedly, ive said tabalt will never cause anyone trouble again. On December 21st, 1863, 25 men pledged their support to each other and to ridden the area of crime and they set up to capture and publicly hang ives. This is the vigilance committee, right? There had been vigilante mobs previously, but not organized like this.

This is some white, erp, and his immortals posse shit from again, tombstone. The last charge of white up in his immortals. Sheriff Henry Plummer refuses to assist this mob. Why? Because he was worried that the road agents would then come after him or because he hated mob vigilante justice. These 25 men set the stage for a larger Western vigilante movement to follow in other mining areas.

They wanted to capture all the road agents and bring them to justice to set an example for future criminals. After executing ives, the committee makes it their mission to identify and arrest all the road agents in the area, many of which of course now fully. An early January 1864, the Vigilance Committee sets out to find nine men. They know our road agents. One couldn't be located, one escaped, but seven were tried. Five of the seven eventually found guilty and immediately hanged. January 10th, 1864, the supposed leader, Henry Plummer arrested and hanged in Virginia

city. Plummer hanged at 10 p.m. that night. He was tearful. And allegedly, the committee did not even allow him five minutes to pray before hanging him. Along with him, the vigilance committee hangs three other men, including George Lane, a deputy sheriff on January 13th, 1864. The remaining road agents, you know, they're well aware now of a of the plot against them about some of their members being hanged gang member Jack Gallagher and his friends, Satin, Saloon, drinking and Jack remarked, while we are here, betting those vigilante sons of bitches are passing sentence on us. Vigilance committee leaders ordered members to assemble and surround the city this night.

No one is permitted to leave. Over 500 armed men apparently circled the city that night. So they're a vigilance committee. They have some serious reinforcements now. The vigilante's were so quiet, no one realized what they were doing until morning when the towns people woke up to see their cities surrounded by armed guards. Can you imagine that? How is this not a fucking epic Wild West movie? Messenger sent out to towns and the golds to summon other vigilantes to appear and take part in the upcoming trials. I mean, they're doing a serious purge here. Party sent out to arrest Boonhelm and fellow outlaws Jack Gallagher, Frank Parish, Hayes Lines, and Bill Hunter. Bill managed to escape townies before the guards were

stationed. On January 14th, 1864, Boone and the other innocents hanged in Virginia City. He was two weeks shy of 36 years old when he was executed, bringing about his short life full of violence to a violent end. The Vigilums Committee had arrested Boone earlier that day. Three men closed in on him as he was standing in the street in front of the Virginia Hotel. And armed guards stood on either side of him with a third point in the pistol his head. Boone told him if I had a chance or if I had guessed what you all were up to, you'd have never taken me. He told them he didn't know what they wanted with him, but that he'd killed, he'd never

killed a man in his life. I am as innocent as the babe unborn. I never killed anyone nor robbed nor defrauded any man. And I'm willing to swear to it on the Bible. And now because that was a big deal the time they bring out a Bible and they make boon kiss the Bible and swear his innocence again and again and every time he does it, uh, with a quote, perfect calmness. But luckily, this is not enough to get him, you know, uh, freed. After a few hours, boon decides to confess. He's like, okay, they know who I am. He's ready to tell him, yes, I've killed so many guys. I've eaten a few.

He tells us, law of ser, that he killed men in Missouri in California, all over the US West. He confesses to 18 murders, including three minors and another fellow up in Canada, said he'd murdered three victims in Salt Lake City, said he shot Dutch Fred and Florence Idaho, knowing he was now for sure going to be hanged, Boone said, I have looked at death in all forms, and I am not afraid to die. He was not. This is ridiculous. Around 4 p.m., boon and forether men taken to the hangman's building and unfinished building

in the center of town, the vigilance committee used the heavy center support beam of the building to hang the men. They stood on top of dry goods boxes instead of a traditional gallows. 6000 people come to witness their executions. Front of the building is open, given the audience a full view, like a whole show, Vigilance Committee executes Boonhelm, Hayes, Frank, George and Jack. The guys I just mentioned earlier, each man excluding Frank Parrish, who seems to have been probably innocent, had a long history of crime.

And these men are all charged with various serious crimes. Boone Helm was charged with being a road agent, Confederate sympathizer, public nuisance, murderer, and cannibal. My favorite charge is public nuisance. Man was he ever. He's a walking pile of mayhem. He does not protest any of these charges in the end. When he's given a last request,

he simply says, I want one more drink of whiskey. Perfect. As he stands on the box, Jack Gallagher beside him starts to weep, comes hysterical. And according to a witness, Boone Helm looked around his friends, placed for deaths and told Jack to stop making such a fuss. There's no, my God, there's no use being afraid to die. Probably never, uh, probably never lived a man more actually devoid of all sense of fear. He valued neither the life of others nor his own. He saw that the end had come and was careless about the rest. Boone actually grew impatient waiting to be executed because the executioners were delayed by some men who wanted to pray. And he, uh, witness to say he told the executioners were delayed by some men who wanted to pray and he, uh, witnesses say he told the executioners, for God's sake, if you're going to hang me, I want you to do it and get

through with it. If not, I want you to tie up my finger for me. Apparently he'd, uh, when he got an arrested, he'd injured his finger. Boone then watches George Lane jump off the box. Uh, he's supposed to be next. He calls out, there's one gone to hell. And again, according to witnesses, Boone's final words are, every man first principles, hurrah for Jeff Davis, kick away old fellow, my turn next. I'll be in hell with you in a minute. Let her rip.

And then this crazy motherfucker jumps off the box before they could kick it. What? Cold blooded tough as nails, right into the very end. And just crazy. Jeff Davis, by the way, everybody assumed, you know, he's talking about Jefferson Davis president of the Confederacy at that time, you know, the whole Confederate sympathizer thing. What principles was he

talking about? Who knows? I bet that guy had a real interesting moral code if you were able to get him to talk about it. After he was hanged, he was cut down and then when no one claimed his body, it laid in the street for hours and then finally dragged off and buried, boon in the road agents with him buried at Booth Hill Cemetery in Virginia City. Cemetery is still there. The inscription on Boone's grave reads, Boone Hill hanged January 14th, 1864, and that will take us out of this timeline. Good job, soldier.

You made it back. Barely. What a truly wild ass story. I hope it was entertaining. I did the best we could with it. You know, the Wild West, one of my favorite, if not my favorite period of history, is okay, out of, but also, man, and I learned this with Billy the Kid and Doc Holiday compared to other like true crime or historical biographies. Man, they are tricky to put together because when writers did come along, you know, the Pulp Fiction at the time, you know, they were selling these tall tales and they weren't,

they weren't the best investigative journalists. And they just wrote what sounded cool and they got some details correct. I mean, they weren't just picking anybody. They weren't making people up, but it gets tricky to differentiate just, you know, making shit up. In fact, and again, you know, not that many people actually wrote about this guy compared to Billy the kid or Jesse James or some of the others, but what little details we can gleam. I mean, he just, he just sounds like a character in so many Westerns I've seen, like, you know, where everybody's hanging out to Sloan

and they're having a good time. And then just like, you know, some fucking psychopath walks in, everybody stands, you know, turns around and the whole vibe changes just that like, ah, fuck that guy. And just that assholes, you know, pushes people out of the way as he's walking up to the bar, you know, demands a drink and solst the bartender, maybe slaps him, nobody does anything about it.

Just like the town bully, like a lot of those spaghetti westerns with those clenese food movies, it just reminds me of like the stock bad guy, but like a more exaggerated version with cannibalism thrown in. And just crazy that his whole adult life, there's no account of him like any mind for a while. And he got a job at a saloon and just kind of, you know, they did some lady like, once he left Missouri, he was just an unabashed, just piece of shit, just non-stop for the whole rest of his life. Just everywhere he went, he just, he stole, you know, just held stage coaches up, just,

you know, mugged people, sounds like just killed people out in the woods. And I think when he was it, you know, just killing and doing up, just, you know, mug people. Sounds like just killed people out in the woods. And I think when he was it, you know, just killing and doing kind of stuff, he was just gambling and just being drunk and just like fighting people in part of like just, just a very chaotic life. I'm just in very chaotic time and place. A bunch of tough people scurrying west across the American interior, you know, for the most part, back when it was so wild, no railroads back then to make it across the country. Only a few wagon train routes.

Not everyone took those long boat ride would get it done, but most people couldn't afford that. They didn't live near a harbor where those boats would launch from. So it didn't make any sense. Various tribes still living out and, you know, much of America's, they live for hundreds of thousands of years. Gold nuggets laying at the bottom of Creek and river beds waiting to make somebody's fortune hiding in the mud of the banks of these creeks and rivers, laying intertwined with quartz and big veins underground.

Now, just a bunch of rugged ass men like Boonhelm bounced from town to town, camp to camp, looking to steal somebody's fortune or looking to make theirs. You know, saloons, brothels popping up quickly wherever miners found gold. So many boom towns popping up so fast, right? I can just, I can just picture it. Maybe just watch some of those movies, you know, my mind, just the sound of so many hammers, throwing up shops and homes just as fast as they could. Whole town getting built all the same time. It's just timber being sawed down left and right.

Main street's being shoveled and plowed somewhat flat. Just so much hustle and bustle An area that was pure wilderness could have 5,000 people living there just a few weeks later 10,000 within a few months and then be completely deserted just a couple years later All those mines all those miners and shopkeepers Right everybody's taken off for the next boomtown Such a chaotic time no one waiting for a bank or a sheriff's office

to be established before open up their businesses. Most worked all day mining and stayed up late, drinking, gambling, paying for sex, fighting, sometimes killing. Brawls, duels, robberies, just part of the chaos. All this wildness and this human sea, tough folk, some separated themselves from the masses by being tougher and wilder than most.

And one of those, one of those men was Boone Helm. I can just see him walk it there. We, tough folk, some separated themselves from the masses by being tougher and wilder than most. And one of those, one of those men was Boonhelm. I can just see him walk into there. Yeah, dusty old saloon, you know, don't start trouble with Boonhelm. He's always looking for a fight. Kentucky cannibal thriving for years in a lawless environment. Born in Kentucky, raised in Missouri, Boon fled after murdering his cousin over dispute about traveling to California.

After being caught and serving some time in an asylum, boon escaped California to get some gold. Other people's gold murdered and robbed along the way to fund his journey. He murdered and robbed all over present day California, Oregon, Washington, Utah, Idaho, Montana, British Columbia, all over the wild west. Montana's where he spent his final years,

where he joined a gang of robbers called Innocence, perhaps led by Bannock Townshare of Henry Plummer. Montana was home to Alder Gulch and area full of mining towns, rich and gold and other resources, easy targets for outlaws like Boonhelm. By the end of 1863, the residents of Bannock and Virginia City had enough of a shit and the shit of those like him and they formed the vigilance committee, of citizens decided to take justice into their own hands made their mission to identify and locate each member of the innocence and execute them to set an example to any other outlaws and justice was finally served for Boone Helm when he was hanged violent end for a violent man time now for today's top five takeaways. Time, suck, top five takeaways.

Number one, Boonhelm. Born in Lincoln County, Kentucky, grew up in the small settlement of log branch, Missouri. Monroe County. From a young age, he exhibited rebellious and dangerous behavior like to drink, fight, shoot guns, cause as much chaos as possible, and he never changed. It's one thing you can, you can say about Boon Hill, man, I got you haven't changed a bit. Boon Hill, you are still scary pieces of shit. Uh, number two, the Wild West truly was wild.

Cause most of the land was territories, not states, because towns were popping up so fast, thanks to gold strikes. It was a serious lack of law enforcement. Roadman robbers, outlaws, murderers prowling around the mining towns and settlements, frequently springing up outlaw gang, springing up everywhere. One of the most notable was Henry Plummer and his gang of road agents called the innocence but was Plummer their leader. This episode may have left him rolling around in his grave. Number three, Boonhelm engaged in cannibalism at least two times in his life, possibly three, confessed to his friends who had made the journey with him to Fort Hall Idaho that he'd

eat in human meat before. And then he'd do it again to avoid starvation. And then he made good on that promise and, you know, eight one of them, Hal Burton, after he either died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound or when he killed him. And that sounds like you may have eaten some of a third man in British Columbia, Canada. He was stuck in the wilderness there with another outlaw. He was spotted with him and then arrested alone. And he told authorities he'd eat the man so he wouldn't starve.

Number four, Boone Hill, never feared death, not even in his final moments. As he stood on the hangman's building, face and execution, he ordered his partner Jack Gallagher to stop crying, demanded a drink of whiskey, told the executioners to get through with it. And his final words were,

every man first principles, hurrah for Jeff Davis, kick away, I'll follow my turn next. I'll be in hell with you in a minute. Let a rip. And then just jumped off the box himself, bringing his crazy life to a crazy end. It not quite 36 years old and 6000 people watching. Number five, new info, a boon in the fellow road agents who were killed alongside him that day were buried in Booth Hill Cemetery in Virginia City. The exact location of their bodies though unknown.

Wouldn't replica headstones were placed in an approximate location in 1907. Then in the 1930s, locals removed the wooden headstones and put them in a museum. New headstones put in the cemetery, but not in the exact spots that the old headstones had been.

And then the original wooden headstones are now gone forever because the museum was burned down in the fire. A lot of his life has been lost to history and now his headstone has been lost too. And good riddance, I guess. Dude sounds like just about the biggest asshole you could have come across in the wild west or anywhere west to Mississippi back when he was alive. Time. West or anywhere West to Mississippi back when he was alive. Levi Boone Helm, the Kentucky cannibal has been sucked. Thank you to the Bad Magic Productions team for all the help and making time suck every

week. Queen of Bad Magic, Lindsey Cummins, Reverend Dr. Joe Paisley, thanks to a libyalee for the initial research this week. Thanks to Bitlixer for keeping the time suck app up and running. Logan the art warlock Keith, our creative director, creating all the merch at badmagicmerch.com and more. Thanks also to Liz the Enchantress Hernandez, who runs our Cult of the Curious Facebook private page.

Currently Cult of the Curious too, along with her wonderful all-seeing eyes moderators, and she also helps Logan with our socials. And thanks to beef steak and his mod squad, keeping over 10,000 meat seeks, meat sacks happy. There we go, over on Discord. Next week, how about we suck the Menendez brothers? There's a lot of documentation on those guys.

I'm sure most of you have heard of them. I remember the news coverage, but never dug much into the story when it happened. Born into lives of wealth and privilege as the sons and only children of Hollywood executive, Jose and homemaker, Kitty Menendez, the brothers claimed they'd returned home from the movies to find that their mom and dad had been assassinated in the Beverly Hills home.

It was August 20th, 1989, and Lyle, 21 and Eric, 19, seemed like the perfect picture of grieving children. Almost incomprehensible when they tried to talk tears streaming down their faces running around shouting like the world's just fallen apart. Then the months that followed they'd seem like they were doing anything but grieving. What they were doing was spending money buying everything from luxury cars to expensive vacations, even bought a chicken wing restaurant. And police found this suspicious.

There would be no smoking gun in the case until six months later when a woman presented tape recordings of Eric and Lyle confessing to killing their parents in a psychiatrist session. Why would Eric and Lyle do such a thing? They already had just about everything money could buy, but maybe that was the problem. Right? Well, on the outside, the menendizes seemed like a perfect family. Their sons were cartwheeling through fuckups from relying on Jose's money to smooth it

all over and protect them from consequences. When Jose finally threatened to cut them off, they hatched their murderous plot. Worst, sons, ever. Thanks for helping fix all my past mistakes, Dad. Oh, you're not gonna fix them going forward? Well, guess you're fucking dead then. That's one version of the story.

The story of the Menendez brothers would tell in their defense will be vastly different, incredibly shocking to the families of Kitty and Jose and the viewers of court TV. And would lead at least some people to think that Eric and Lyle had been right to kill their parents. That Jose and Kitty had secretly been abusing their sons for years, but did they? Or is that some Casey Anthony-esque bullshit?

You know, I'm going to I'm going to disparage my parents name, try and save my own ass, kind of bullshit. Who's telling the truth? Let's work on trying to figure out this next week. How does such a picture perfect family meet such gruesome and treacherous end next week on Time Suck is the Menendez brothers. And now let's head on over to this week's Time Sucker updates. Gonna start with a Japanese trash can update from Japanese official notto and smart sucker Erica Herrera. Erica writes, hey Dan, space is a long time listener Erica here.

Thank you Erica. Just finished listening to the on Shinrico time suck and absolutely loved it. I wanted to write in because I studied Japanese and his politics so I knew vaguely about om Shinrico and the deadly star in attacks. First, I wanted to say you've come a long way with the Japanese pronunciation. Thank God. I'll never forget the way you butchered Dimeo in the, uh, uh, okay. Uh, okay, Gahara suck.

That's that Japanese suicide force. But the real reason I wanted to ride in is because I've been to Japan several times, lived there for about six months, and I've always been baffled by its lack of trash cans. I've told all my family and friends who've never been to Japan about how it's impossible to find a trash can there. So you're throw away line about Omishin Rikyo being responsible for that really blew me away. It was such an unexpected surprise, and I'm going to tell all my friends and Japanese community

about it. Anyway, three out of five stars wouldn't change a thing, hail Nimrod, praise for jangles, etc. Always look forward to my Monday afternoon, so listen to the new episode. Thank you and the whole bad magic team for spreading so much knowledge and joy, Erica. Well, thank you, Erica. I'm glad you love little random pieces of trivia like that as well. And glad I could solve a mystery for you. Also, glad my Japanese pronunciation is improving a bit. Definitely try. I did change my research technique a few months ago to help in that regard.

Now before I jump into the initial research that, you know, Zach or Sophie or Olivia has started, I first watched a few documentaries just on YouTube. I try and find short summaries, generally, if I can find Goodwin's there. I try and find short summaries like, you know, 20 to 40 minute range and watch a few of them. Simon Whistler is a YouTuber with a fantastic pronunciation.

I'm jealous. He hosts biographics, geographics, and a few other series on YouTube. And the research that his team does, I feel like, is solid. And it gets the word floating around in my ears before I shift over to just lots and lots of reading. So I'm glad that is, you know, I'm showing progress. My long history

of lies on the suck almost ruined the omshinrikyo suck for a shrewd meat sack, Robert Shihorn, Robert, Robert writes, got dammy master sucker. I've listened to the entire catalog of time suck and have prided myself and not been fooled very often by your bullshari. I just finished finished listening to the omshinrikyo Suk and I had become so jaded to your fake tangents that I thought you were fucking around when you actually weren't. When master 40 watt-bong hit was beating the shit out of blind kids, I thought you were setting up a joke about in the land of the blind the one I had man as king. Well, it could have been funny joke.

I literally tuned out as childhood and then I had to relisten because I was so focused on waiting for the punchline that was inevitably just his childhood. And then I had to relisten because I was so focused on waiting for the punchline that was inevitably just his life. I want to thank you and the entire Badge Magic Productions team, listening to Time Suck and eventually scared of death and as we dumb, helped me through one of the roughest periods of my life. At one point, I was binge-listing to the back catalog for 12 hours a day just to escape my own brain and it gave me a much-needed break from my darkness. You have brought all of us such a twisted community of curious meat sacks and I am proud to be a part of it. If you end up reading this in the show, please give a shout out to my friend Josh Adams. He's loyal space lizard and though he

is what and through he and his wife's generosity, I believe he saved my infant son's life. I owe him a dead a gratitude that I can never repay and for a pronunciation guide, although it seems self explanatory. My name is she as in her and horn as in the things taken out of a bull's head Three out of five stars wouldn't change a thing Robert. Thank you Robert. Bobburt she horn Interesting last name by the way There's some horned ladies in the family tree I love that the spaces are helped you not sure if you knew Josh before or met him in one of the online communities So many different private Facebook groups out there associate with time suck now

Just search for time suck or search in one of the online communities. So many different private Facebook groups out there associate with TimeSuck now. Just search for TimeSuck or search, call to the curious, Nimrod, Lucifina, Bojangles, et cetera, and so much comes up if you search within Facebook there, which has just been the easiest place for people to gather. So many places to have a laugh, learn something, get help, make friends, et cetera. And Josh, yeah, thanks for helping a friend.

Friends are often more important for families, many cases, and you know, we got a lot of good families here in the cult. This kind of stuff motivates me more than anything else. Right, if it was just about the research, eventually I get bored. If it was just about the pronunciations, I fucking throw myself out of window.

If it was just about the money, I would, you know, I'd lose all the passion for this. Helping people have a happier life. Get a helping hand when they need it. It is the fucking best. Uh, praiseable jangles. He's been feeling left out lately when he comes to praises. He's a good boy.

Uh, speaking of community, active cult member, Eric O'Clair has an announcement. Eric writes, I am the guilty party who started the pandemic last year. I'm happy to announce the pandemic too. We'll be starting in just a few weeks. Hopefully this message can be read in the show prior to December, mainly for anyone that wasn't able to participate last year. I haven't written in regarding this yet,

just message you on Facebook about it. The whole thing took off much quicker than I ever thought it would. I assume most people just rolled their eyes at it and move on, but I've heard from so many people that the Dan Demick was one of the best things they experienced online in a long time. Some even told me that it saved them from dark places.

That's crazy, which is ironic because the majority of this year, I've been in a very dark place. A lot of people made brand new friends that they still interact with daily through that and it makes me happy. For any new people, Dan Sember, and this Dan Demick is everyone that wants to participate just changing their profile picture to the same

the same picture of Dan for the month of December. That's it. And it's that fucking stupid mustache picture. Super simple. It's a great way to spread the plague of knowledge and it's just fun. I've been listening since the uh oki kahara uh suck and haven't looked back. I'm slightly sorry for the long email but also not Eric O'Clair. We're Eric uh nice to meet you. Yeah, the online spectacle you started last year, super weird, but very funny. Did freak me out a bit at first. I know what the fuck was going on. And the mustache pick, that's good choice. I'm a goofy looking son of a bitch.

Makes people laugh. And that's fun. And you know what? So I have, so yeah, so why not have some more fun? Let's do it again. I hope people have fun with it again. You know, that craziness, why not? The message heard and word spread.

I was spotted out in the wild recently, sweet sucker Brianna Manzoli. Her last name sounds delicious. Brianna Manzoli sounds like a lasagna variant. I'm probably just hungry. She has a nice message writing, hi master sucker, I apologize for my grammar. I'm not an English major by any means. Well, you do great in this message. My name is

Brianna. My husband Taylor introduced me to your comedy and Time Suck back in early 2020. We were setting up our space newts nursery while listening to Time Suck from the very beginning. I'm not going to lie. I didn't really get into it until I went back to work after my maternity leave. I started from the beginning again and have been an avid listener of Time Sucks carried that is we done ever since. That's very nice.

I used to live about five, 10 minutes from the funny bone and Cincinnati. Oh yeah. So we frequent the area often. My husband booked the hotel since it was fairly close to the club, not realizing how close. He jokingly said, well, walking from our car, how funny would it be if Dan Cammons was staying

at this hotel? Well, we ended up seeing you on three separate occasions that day. Though the last one was the one, I will probably replay in my head and try not to think and trying to think of other ways that could have gone for the rest of my life, LOL. We were inside the Starbucks sitting at a table,

waiting for our coffee when we noticed some with the same stature in haircut as you. Couldn't tell if it was you because you were walking towards a cheesecake factory. Yep, I had some chevros pies, delicious. While still waiting for our coffee because they forgot to get my husband's drink, you walk back out, we instantly realized it was you.

We both panicked to side not to say hello because you were carrying food. We didn't want to bug you. Final time we saw you was in the hotel lobby, we sat on a bench because I was feeling anxious and didn't want to go to the room quite yet. Well, you turned the corner to come into the lobby and we both basically shut down completely.

We smiled and waved and be lying for the elevator. We both really wanted to stop and say hi, but our anxiety clearly said no and we didn't want to bug you. I'm grateful for your podcast and comedy. They've got me through some hard times. Mary helped me realize it's okay to laugh about grief. Mary Santora was open those shows. She's a great comic.

I lost my first husband in 2017 to suicide. Your dark humor makes me feel less alone while also learning and laughing. Not sure if you'll see this email as I'm sure you get overloaded with them every day. But if you do, could you give my husband a shout out? He would probably shit his pants. Keep your loophole tight. Brianna Benzoli. Keep your loophole tight. I like that. Brianna, yes, I can give a shout out to Taylor. Hail Nimrod Taylor. Now, shit away. Keep loving that Luciferina viewers.

Also, you wouldn't have bothered me. I have noticed in the last year or so being noticed a little more. And when someone wants to say quick hello and grab a quick pick, I do not mind. Sometimes I think it's better just to come see high. And if you want to pick, just ask for a pick. Rather than sometimes I'll notice

that someone keeps looking at me and then they probably just don't want to bother me. But in my head, I'm like, okay, do they recognize me and not want to bother me, but in my head, I'm like, okay, do they recognize me and now want to bother me? Or do they recognize me and are like, fuck that guy. So next time say hi, I won't bite. Thanks for coming to a show and have a great rest of your year, Brianna. And last one, we're going to end on something sweet, Adelaide Young. Love the name Adelaide, by the way. She writes, Hi, Suck Master Supreme. Thank you for the amazing show

and Cincinnati tonight. This is Adelaide The Conte. Who Vot tickets for her sister to see the show tonight. This is a reference to a horrible stuff I said at the show, but they got laughs all in fun. I'm filthy bastard, as you all know. Adelaide continues, our shared misophonia side. We both agree your symphony of insanity

bit was one of our favorites at the night. Hannah and I have been listening to your standup together since crazy with the Capitol F, a man of long time. Tonight was our first time getting to see life. Despite being a long time standup fan, I'm ashamed to admit, I only started listening to time suck this past fall when the pandemic forced me to move several hours away

from my friends and family. I used to think it was weird for people to send saffy messages to media creators like this, but I get it now. Whether it was on a long drive home to see my loved ones or just put it around my apartment, try not to go COVID crazy. Time suck has made me feel like I was not alone.

Knowing that there are other people out there who care about my curiosity and bettering yourself as a meat stack has been my personal perseverance fairy. I just moved back to Sensei this fall for a new teaching job. Congrats, but I'm all in on the suck for good. I'm proud to be part of the cult of curious. And if I'm going to be called a, if I'm going to be called a content list, it's a decree from the damn profit of new right of itself. Keep on sucking to save travels. Well, thank you, LA. I should probably watch on the cuts. It is a fun in moments where to say it's just

it's very nice and compact as a hard consonant sound at the end. Shocking. So glad you had fun and yeah, I get not feeling alone, not wanting to feel alone. You know, I get all these emails and I still have moments where I feel like an outcast. And it's just nice to hear from like-minded, similarly-minded people, just a nice reminder,

you know, that we are not alone, it's easy to get lost in our own thoughts, feel like no one understands this. No one knows where we're going through or that everyone else is fucking crazy. Our brains are not always our friends. I am so thankful to have a community of listeners who like to think.

It's a very refreshing reassuring. Doesn't mean we're all gonna agree of course now, but at least we all tend to do a fair amount of thinking to examine our lives. A lot of other people do not seem to do that or want to do that. I don't know, maybe they're afraid of what they'll find. I sure as hell don't have all the answers,

but I do try and think about how to make the world a little better for all of us, and I just feel like the more of us that are doing that, obviously the better the world's gonna get. And even if it didn't ever get you better, I still think it's important to try, right? Cause what's the alternative? Sit around, just be like, everything's fucked and nothing you can do about it.

Sit around and just, I don't know. I will be saved with my travels. You keep having fun with your sister, Hannah, and enjoy your new job. Thanks for being a teacher. And hail Nimrod, everyone. Thanks, time suckers. I need a net. We all did.

Thanks again for listening to a bad magic production. Thanks again for listening. Thanks again for listening. Thanks again for listening. Thanks, time suckers. I need a net. We all did. Thanks again for listening to a Bad Magic Productions podcast Meet Sacks. Don't shoot anyone in the saloon this week or wander off in the woods to hide from the law and kill any people. Just stay in town. Stay in town. Stay inside.

It's cold out in many places. You know, pour yourself a strong cup of coffee or maybe a stronger cup of whiskey. Put your headphones on, set down your six-shooter, and just keep on sucking. Unmogic productions. Alright Dan, here's your water! Thank you.