On April 28, 1881, Billy the Kid made his last spectacular escape from jail, just two weeks before he was to be hanged. While chained hand and foot, the Kid somehow managed to get a gun, kill one of his guards, grab a shotgun and kill the other guard, then ride out of town on a borrowed horse. He remained a free man until gunned down by Pat Garrett.
It’s an amazing story, and everyone from dime novelists to screenwriters tends to focus on the shotgun story – in which Billy reportedly grabbed a shotgun loaded with silver dimes and blew away Bob Olinger, the sadistic guard who had been tormenting him. (If you want to see what kind of damage is caused by two shotguns barrels of silver dimes, check out our DVD The Guns of Billy The Kid).
But the more mysterious part of the story is the first gun – where did Billy the Kid manage to get a revolver while shackled and under round-the-clock guard? Some have suggested the gun was left for him in the outhouse, others said Billy simply wrestled it away from his guard. No one has adequately explained the crime scene in 126 years.
But there is one intriguing missing link.
Godfrey Gauss.
The entire story of Billy’s famous escape apparently comes from the eyewitness report of one man. And though it’s rarely commented upon, that one man is a highly suspect source, and may have been more involved in the crime than anyone knew.
Godfrey Gauss was a cook and handyman who lived at worked at the Lincoln County Courthouse where Billy the Kid was jailed. He was an old local character, a guy who did odd jobs around Lincoln, New Mexico. If Billy has been played by Val Kilmer or Paul Newman, then Gauss should be played by Gabby Hayes.
Gauss was the only eyewitness to Billy’s escape. He testified to Pat Garrett and later to reporters. But what Gauss did not say in his story was the most important fact of all -- he had been Billy’s friend, supporter, cook and possibly arms supplier for years.
During the bloody Lincoln County War, William Bonney rode with The Regulators, a badge-carrying semi-vigilante force made up of young cowboys from the Tunstall Ranch. The cook for the ranch was Godfrey Gauss. When the Regulators were declared outlaws, Gauss was still giving the boys food, shelter, supplies and alibis. If anyone can be said to be one of the Kid’s greatest champions, it is Godfrey Gauss.
But by 1881, the Lincoln County War was over and all the participants dead or pardoned (with the notable exception of Billy the Kid – the only man convicted of a crime in the bloody six-months-long “war”). Old Gauss found himself employed as a janitor and handyman at the courthouse – working for the very folks who shot up his boys during the war. So how would he feel when the charismatic leader of the Regulators was chained up in the courthouse, waiting to hang?
Did Gauss actually help Billy escape? It’s hard to prove. All anyone really knows is that a gunshot rang out and Deputy Bell burst through out of the courthouse and died… in Godfrey Gauss’s arms. Then Gauss called out to Deputy Olinger…bringing Olinger directly into range of Billy’s shotgun. Then Gauss broke Billy’s shackles and saddled him up a horse. Then Gauss somehow was able to explain away the whole thing to Sheriff Garrett without incriminating himself.
So was Guass not just an eyewitness but a co-conspirator?
The question will probably never be answered, but I personally like the idea of old, gimpy Godfrey Gauss giving Billy the gun that let him shoot his way to freedom. But maybe I've seen too many Gabby Hayes movies.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Friday, June 8, 2007
Lincoln’s Letter and the Kid’s Trunk
The National Archives announced last week that they had discovered a long-lost letter from Abraham Lincoln. It is a true national treasure -- a note from America's greatest president about America's greatest battle – and it had been misfiled for nearly a century.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070608/ap_on_re_us/archives_lincoln
I’m proud to say I had a hand in this discovery, however small. I’m currently producing a documentary about the Civil War, and I’d called the National Archives to see about shooting some of the original telegrams between generals. I was sent to speak to Trevor Plante, the the go-to-guy on old war records and probably one of the world’s greatest experts on Civil War documents (though he’s too humble to admit it).
Apparently one of the telegrams I’d asked for was so obscure, that Trevor couldn’t find it in the normal records. So he began searching in the more unusual places and the forgotten corners of the vast archives. And there, in a battered, water-stained, torn-covered bound collection of the papers of General Henry Halleck… he found a hand-written note from Abraham Lincoln about the most important battle in American history.
It’s like finding George Washington’s wooden teeth in a dentist’s back-office… or like finding a million dollars in cash in the pages of a library book. That last metaphor is literal – another handwritten Lincoln letter was discovered last year in London, and Sotheby’s valued it at over a million dollars.
So I was there when Trevor Plante first revealed he had found a long-lost Lincoln letter. I saw the actual signature, looked at the incredible document in its battered, water-stained home, and would have loved to have held it, but Trevor – in his wisdom – refused to let any grubby video crew handle a national treasure.
This discovery is the latest in a string of similar tales. In London last month, a battered filing cabinet in a basement turned out to contain love letters from Napoleon and a hand-written note from Queen Elizabeth I. Earlier this year, a forgotten trunk in a Virginia bank vault turned out to contain unknown letters and personal mementos of Robert E. Lee.
These are amazing stories, and for those of us with a love of history, it bring visions of each of us finding a similar trove, somewhere in an attic or basement, jammed under grandpa's old bed, or buried in a remote ghost town.
The legend of Billy the Kid is also filled with stories about lost trunks. In several different books and memoirs there are references to this iconic concept -- "the trunk" that contains Billy's revolver, his photos, and his personal reminiscences -- all the missing artifacts and detailed proof that either a) solve all of Billy's mysteries, b) prove his survival after his reported death, or c) reveal his genetic relationship to the discoverer.
This trunk has never been found, of course. Or at least not yet. But the idea crops up again and again in books about Billy the Kid.
I even went so far as to try to track down one of these trunks when I produced BILLY THE KID UNMASKED for the Discovery Channel. John Miller -- the Arizona claimant to Billy's title -- was supposed to have sent a trunk of material from his deathbed to his last surviving relative in the 1920s. (The story is detailed in WHATEVER HAPPENED TO BILLY THE KID by Helen Airy). Did this trunk contain Billy the Kid’s guns, his memoirs, and solid proof that Miller really was the Kid? I made several calls, tried to find John Miller's surviving relatives, tried to find the actual post office building where the trunk was last seen... all to no avail.
I eventually decided the trunk simply doesn't exist. Just like similar trunks -- filled with letters from Jesse James, or Wyatt Earp or Doc Holliday – simply do not exist. It’s a cool idea… too cool to actually be true.
But now... I'm not so sure.
I've seen a letter from Abraham Lincoln letter -- misfiled for over a century. The letter... the filing cabinet of Napoleon’s love notes... the trunk of Robert E. Lee... they all prove that such discoveries can actually be made.
Maybe that trunk of Billy the Kid’s really IS out there somewhere.
If you find it, drop me a line.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070608/ap_on_re_us/archives_lincoln
I’m proud to say I had a hand in this discovery, however small. I’m currently producing a documentary about the Civil War, and I’d called the National Archives to see about shooting some of the original telegrams between generals. I was sent to speak to Trevor Plante, the the go-to-guy on old war records and probably one of the world’s greatest experts on Civil War documents (though he’s too humble to admit it).
Apparently one of the telegrams I’d asked for was so obscure, that Trevor couldn’t find it in the normal records. So he began searching in the more unusual places and the forgotten corners of the vast archives. And there, in a battered, water-stained, torn-covered bound collection of the papers of General Henry Halleck… he found a hand-written note from Abraham Lincoln about the most important battle in American history.
It’s like finding George Washington’s wooden teeth in a dentist’s back-office… or like finding a million dollars in cash in the pages of a library book. That last metaphor is literal – another handwritten Lincoln letter was discovered last year in London, and Sotheby’s valued it at over a million dollars.
So I was there when Trevor Plante first revealed he had found a long-lost Lincoln letter. I saw the actual signature, looked at the incredible document in its battered, water-stained home, and would have loved to have held it, but Trevor – in his wisdom – refused to let any grubby video crew handle a national treasure.
This discovery is the latest in a string of similar tales. In London last month, a battered filing cabinet in a basement turned out to contain love letters from Napoleon and a hand-written note from Queen Elizabeth I. Earlier this year, a forgotten trunk in a Virginia bank vault turned out to contain unknown letters and personal mementos of Robert E. Lee.
These are amazing stories, and for those of us with a love of history, it bring visions of each of us finding a similar trove, somewhere in an attic or basement, jammed under grandpa's old bed, or buried in a remote ghost town.
The legend of Billy the Kid is also filled with stories about lost trunks. In several different books and memoirs there are references to this iconic concept -- "the trunk" that contains Billy's revolver, his photos, and his personal reminiscences -- all the missing artifacts and detailed proof that either a) solve all of Billy's mysteries, b) prove his survival after his reported death, or c) reveal his genetic relationship to the discoverer.
This trunk has never been found, of course. Or at least not yet. But the idea crops up again and again in books about Billy the Kid.
I even went so far as to try to track down one of these trunks when I produced BILLY THE KID UNMASKED for the Discovery Channel. John Miller -- the Arizona claimant to Billy's title -- was supposed to have sent a trunk of material from his deathbed to his last surviving relative in the 1920s. (The story is detailed in WHATEVER HAPPENED TO BILLY THE KID by Helen Airy). Did this trunk contain Billy the Kid’s guns, his memoirs, and solid proof that Miller really was the Kid? I made several calls, tried to find John Miller's surviving relatives, tried to find the actual post office building where the trunk was last seen... all to no avail.
I eventually decided the trunk simply doesn't exist. Just like similar trunks -- filled with letters from Jesse James, or Wyatt Earp or Doc Holliday – simply do not exist. It’s a cool idea… too cool to actually be true.
But now... I'm not so sure.
I've seen a letter from Abraham Lincoln letter -- misfiled for over a century. The letter... the filing cabinet of Napoleon’s love notes... the trunk of Robert E. Lee... they all prove that such discoveries can actually be made.
Maybe that trunk of Billy the Kid’s really IS out there somewhere.
If you find it, drop me a line.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Welcome to the Jackleg Historian
Jackleg (adj): Lacking training, amateur, (Chiefly South Midland and Southern U.S,)
Historian (noun): A writer, student, or scholar of history. A chronicler.
Welcome to the Jackleg Historian blog. This will be a regular posting from the world of a guy who makes his living "doing history" -- chiefly as a television producer. I have produced numerous hours of cable documentaries at venues like The History Channel, Discovery, National Geographic, and their ilk -- on topics and time periods ranging from ancient Egypt through the Crusades, from the Old West to the End of the World.
I first heard the word "jackleg" from my father-in-law, who described his own grandfather as a "jackleg veterinarian." During the mid-1940s, when folks in the Shenandoah Valley were so pooor they really couldn't afford a real large-animal vet, they'd call Old Man Lutz, who could do enough animal doctoring to keep the farm running. Well, "jackleg" seemed like not only a great word, but a great calling. Jacklegs are the Great American Amateurs. Jacklegs are the guys who are called on when the "experts" aren't available, are too expensive, or don't care. Jacklegs are the guys who get things done.
I'm a Jackleg Historian. I produce television documentaries about history. I don't have a degree in history, and never took a single college level course in it. Which may make me seem singularly unfit for the job I'm paid to do. But I'm a jackleg historian -- I read an awful lot (an an awful lot of junk and an awful lot of simply crazy stuff). I'm passionate about history and about the great human stories of the past.
I believe I'm just one of an army of Jackleg Historians -- the guys who read True West magazine and Armchair General. The guys who watch The History Channel and write impassioned emails when there's an inaccuracy in the re-enactments. The men and women who read historical novels, who re-enact the Renaissance and the Civil War, who collect guns and books and coins and memorabilia. These are the folks for whom history is a real, palpable, living thing. They may not have a degee in history, but they are often as well-read and sometimes even better-informed than many a tenured professor. They are Jackleg Historians, and I'm proud to call myself one of them.
Right now I'm in the midst of two history projects. One is THE GUNS OF BILLY THE KID, a documentary on the firearms of the West's most famous desperado (available now at www.gunsofbillythekid.com and www.varmintmedia.com). Though the film itself is finished, the marketing of it is a new and fascinating world. And, as usual, now that the film is finished I'm discovering new details and fascinating facts that I wish I could have included.
I suppose one of the best things about the Web is that I can actually "add" material to an already finished project -- or at least add adjuncts and footnotes on the site. So stay tuned for more weird and interesting discoveries about the Guns of William Bonney.
I'm also in the middle of producing a somewhat-large, somewhat-high-budget (for cable TV standards) Civil War documentary. I won't give you the sordid details about which network, nor will I name names -- mostly because there's a news embargo that must be cleared with the front office first -- but I'll check in regularly with Reports from the Front. Working with a major cable network has its own challenges, but this kind of project also has the scope and the budget to do some really cool stuff -- and uncover some really cool angles on unknown pieces of American History.
I can tell you that there's going to be some amazing gunplay in the show. Now that I'm given the opportunity to line up fifty 1861 Springfield Rifles and fire 'em off, I'm not going to let the opportunity slip by. There's going to be lots of shooting and lots of weird guns and a couple of dozen cannons, and our firearms experts are planning to out-do themselves in the amount of black powder burnt off in a single re-enactment. Good times.
So, fellow Jackleg Historians, welcome to my world and my blog. Enjoy the show.
Historian (noun): A writer, student, or scholar of history. A chronicler.
Welcome to the Jackleg Historian blog. This will be a regular posting from the world of a guy who makes his living "doing history" -- chiefly as a television producer. I have produced numerous hours of cable documentaries at venues like The History Channel, Discovery, National Geographic, and their ilk -- on topics and time periods ranging from ancient Egypt through the Crusades, from the Old West to the End of the World.
I first heard the word "jackleg" from my father-in-law, who described his own grandfather as a "jackleg veterinarian." During the mid-1940s, when folks in the Shenandoah Valley were so pooor they really couldn't afford a real large-animal vet, they'd call Old Man Lutz, who could do enough animal doctoring to keep the farm running. Well, "jackleg" seemed like not only a great word, but a great calling. Jacklegs are the Great American Amateurs. Jacklegs are the guys who are called on when the "experts" aren't available, are too expensive, or don't care. Jacklegs are the guys who get things done.
I'm a Jackleg Historian. I produce television documentaries about history. I don't have a degree in history, and never took a single college level course in it. Which may make me seem singularly unfit for the job I'm paid to do. But I'm a jackleg historian -- I read an awful lot (an an awful lot of junk and an awful lot of simply crazy stuff). I'm passionate about history and about the great human stories of the past.
I believe I'm just one of an army of Jackleg Historians -- the guys who read True West magazine and Armchair General. The guys who watch The History Channel and write impassioned emails when there's an inaccuracy in the re-enactments. The men and women who read historical novels, who re-enact the Renaissance and the Civil War, who collect guns and books and coins and memorabilia. These are the folks for whom history is a real, palpable, living thing. They may not have a degee in history, but they are often as well-read and sometimes even better-informed than many a tenured professor. They are Jackleg Historians, and I'm proud to call myself one of them.
Right now I'm in the midst of two history projects. One is THE GUNS OF BILLY THE KID, a documentary on the firearms of the West's most famous desperado (available now at www.gunsofbillythekid.com and www.varmintmedia.com). Though the film itself is finished, the marketing of it is a new and fascinating world. And, as usual, now that the film is finished I'm discovering new details and fascinating facts that I wish I could have included.
I suppose one of the best things about the Web is that I can actually "add" material to an already finished project -- or at least add adjuncts and footnotes on the site. So stay tuned for more weird and interesting discoveries about the Guns of William Bonney.
I'm also in the middle of producing a somewhat-large, somewhat-high-budget (for cable TV standards) Civil War documentary. I won't give you the sordid details about which network, nor will I name names -- mostly because there's a news embargo that must be cleared with the front office first -- but I'll check in regularly with Reports from the Front. Working with a major cable network has its own challenges, but this kind of project also has the scope and the budget to do some really cool stuff -- and uncover some really cool angles on unknown pieces of American History.
I can tell you that there's going to be some amazing gunplay in the show. Now that I'm given the opportunity to line up fifty 1861 Springfield Rifles and fire 'em off, I'm not going to let the opportunity slip by. There's going to be lots of shooting and lots of weird guns and a couple of dozen cannons, and our firearms experts are planning to out-do themselves in the amount of black powder burnt off in a single re-enactment. Good times.
So, fellow Jackleg Historians, welcome to my world and my blog. Enjoy the show.
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