Strap on your spurs and hold onto your hats as I, Cranky McCabe, whisk you away to the days when Dodge City was overrun with buffalo hunters, traders, and outlaws. Ever wondered what it'd be like to stand in the midst of a buffalo stampede or face down danger at the turn of a card? Our latest journey into the echoes of the past promises tales of adventure, peril, and the raw edge of survival. Together with Billy Dixon and other frontier legends, we travel back to a time where every decision could mean life or untimely death, and every shadow in the saloon hid a potential enemy.
Feel the grit in your teeth and the tension in the air as we recount the lawless days of Dodge City, through bustling trade and bloody gunfights. We'll share the harrowing experiences of Mr. Rath and Robert Wright, whose buffalo hide trading venture near the railroad tracks led to a hunting frenzy and more than a few close shaves with the native residents of those plains. You'll sit ringside at Tom Sherman's saloon for a shootout that rattled the walls and left its mark on the town's infamous history. It's not just a trip through time; it's an immersion into the unbridled spirit of the Old West, with every word a step down the main street of a bygone era.
Return of the Great Hunters
Cattle Drives Website
Legends of Dodge City Website
Order Books
Strap on your spurs and hold onto your hats as I, Cranky McCabe, whisk you away to the days when Dodge City was overrun with buffalo hunters, traders, and outlaws. Ever wondered what it'd be like to stand in the midst of a buffalo stampede or face down danger at the turn of a card? Our latest journey into the echoes of the past promises tales of adventure, peril, and the raw edge of survival. Together with Billy Dixon and other frontier legends, we travel back to a time where every decision could mean life or untimely death, and every shadow in the saloon hid a potential enemy.
Feel the grit in your teeth and the tension in the air as we recount the lawless days of Dodge City, through bustling trade and bloody gunfights. We'll share the harrowing experiences of Mr. Rath and Robert Wright, whose buffalo hide trading venture near the railroad tracks led to a hunting frenzy and more than a few close shaves with the native residents of those plains. You'll sit ringside at Tom Sherman's saloon for a shootout that rattled the walls and left its mark on the town's infamous history. It's not just a trip through time; it's an immersion into the unbridled spirit of the Old West, with every word a step down the main street of a bygone era.
Return of the Great Hunters
Cattle Drives Website
Legends of Dodge City Website
Order Books
Among the great buffalo herds south of the Arkansas River existed a territory known by many as Forsaken Ground. Many the brave and experienced hunters ventured into this territory, rich in furs, great turkey flocks flushed with grouse, prairie chickens, all captured in a region claimed by the Indians. This was south of the Arkansas River. The Indians depended on buffalo to provide meat for food and hides, for clothing and tepee material. During these early days, millions of buffalo roamed the plains. In November 1872, the Kansas Commonwealth a tepeeca newspaper, reported the buffaloes are moving south and crossing the Arkansas. 20 miles west of Dodge, an immense herd of the creatures, two miles wide and 10 miles long, were passed by the construction train. It took two hours for the train to get through this herd. 14 animals were killed and several calves injured. As word spread about the good hunting and the railroad that would soon reach western Kansas, men in different parts of the state started businesses near the new railroad tracks and fort Dodge to supply the hunters with the necessities for their trade. It has been estimated that Buffalo hunters killed a grand total of 3,158,780 buffaloes during the years of the Buffalo trade from 1870 until the time of their extermination in 1881. Hunters swarmed over the area, killing the buffalo to sell for a good price. A successful day's hunt might net the hunter $100. The same Topeka newspaper article said Every ravine is full of hunters and campfires can be seen for miles in every direction. The hides and meet to 14,000 buffalo were brought into town today. At this time Dodge City's equal never existed in the entire West. Business came with the Buffalo hunters and the Boxcar Depot in 1872. Dodge City, kansas, became a boom town for making money. The gambling was carried on extensively and the saloons were full. Mostly everyone in the town seemed bent on wattiness and indulgence, except for the good citizen. By November of 1872, the small town of Dodge City had begun to bloom into a vital frontier community.
Speaker 1:Wild West podcast proudly presents Hunting Buffalo South of the Arkansas River, the Billy Dixon Mike McCabe story. My name is Mike McCabe and they call me Cranky. Cranky McCabe, that is, I'm a full-blooded Irishman. That makes me a spirited man, even though I am small stature. I will teach anyone who is brave enough to take me on. The story I'm about to tell you is based on the facts, my facts. Yet some of my stories may not have happened the way you or someone else might have made it out to be.
Speaker 1:Back in the early days I worked with a man named Billy Dixon. Billy Dixon and a few other fellows often hunted buffalo in the southern plains. We covered enough territory in those days between Texas, nebraska and Kansas. In the fall of 1872, our hunters travelled south along the Arkansas River until we got to Dodge City. There we found the first buildings being constructed. The streets remained lined with wagons bringing in hides and getting supplies.
Speaker 1:The railroad station happens not to be a station at all, but the boxcar serving as a temporary depot. The town was swarmed with hidebuyers and cellars. Operators along the rail line unloaded dozens of railroad cars full of grain, flour and provisions. However, more important to me at that time happened to be my baser needs. After months on the prairie working in blood, stiffened, stinking clothes, with my beard streaked with red blood. I welcomed any type of civilization, so I convinced Billy and the team to put on airs and take a closer look At this time.
Speaker 1:Dodge City was a terminus of the railroad. The Santa Fe, atchison, topeka companies continued grading tracks moving west to the Colorado State Line. The construction crews were made up of Irish immigrants and Civil War veterans, to say the least. These fellows occurred eager for a big time and spent their earnings in the first constructed business establishments at Dodge City. These hastily built establishments, frequently box affairs, included saloons owned by Kelly and Beatty, murray and Walters, beeson and Harris, and of course there was the Hoover Saloon. None of these places appealed to us, so we decided to make our earnings for park and bean dinner at the Cox House Hotel. Now, when we were in that place, we ran into the proprietor of the hotel, mr George B Cox. Mr Cox, for some unknown reason, pulled up a chair right next to me. He first asked us about our dinner and he began giving us some advice about the town. He and some other citizens not many at that time had grown concerned about the violence occurring in and out of the saloons.
Speaker 1:About two weeks ago, according to Mr Cox, a black man named Tex some called him Blackjack he was shot in the head by a gambler known as Denver. Those first words got my attention and distracted me from the park and beans dinner. Mr Cox continued leaning his head into the middle of our table. When the ruckus started in the street outside the Kelly and Beatty Saloon, you could see one man over the rest of the crowd. He was a big man, big, tall black man, faced on the street with a gambler named Denver. Then, out of nowhere, some shots were fired over the crowd's head. The shots caused the crowd to disperse. The only man remaining was Blackjack, lying on the ground kicking a bit as he lay dying from a shot to the head. No one knew who fired the shot. Everyone thought it was an accident. Mr Cox, with a smile, looked at me and said many who saw the shooting say it was one of the most unprovoked murders ever committed.
Speaker 1:The townspeople did not know where to bury the man, so they dug a hole on top of the hill and laid him down in it. Kelly and I looked at each other as Mr Cox had our fullest attention. Mr Cox now leaned back in his chair, took off his hat and as he ran his right hand through his hair we could sense some sadness in his vice. Unfortunately, just a few days ago a similar incident over Whiskey and Anger got my partner J M Essington shot. He was a carpenter and built this place. He got into the whiskey bottle too deeply and started slandering our cook. The cook took a fence to his nag and pulled a revolver from his pants and shot Essington dead To the floor he went. Mr Cox pointed to the portion of the floor in front of us still covered in blood stains. While Mr Cox shook his head and discussed, he said that's where my partner, mr Essington, took his last breath. We dug a hall and buried him on the hill close and all. Now we have a new cemetery called Boot Hill. Thus came into prominence Boot Hill, a burial ground.
Speaker 1:I thought to myself about Mr Cox's words and why he sat next to us. Maybe it was his way of saying we should never complain about the food. Mr Cox pulled his chair away from our table with these parting words you, gentlemen, take care of yourselves. Dodge City is starting to have one man a day for breakfast almost every morning to populate the hill. We paid our 75 cents and afterward decided to boast a little about our talents to some of the locals. We decided to try our luck at Zimmerman's hardware gone in ammunition store.
Speaker 1:At Zimmerman's we had the good fortune to run into a fella named Charles Rath who was staking claim to a mercantile company specializing in marketing buffalo hides. It was there. Billy and I decided to take a chance on a business venture With certainty. I explained to Mr Rath that he was in the presence of one of the greatest buffalo hunters who ever leveled a rifle, the truest shot of the west. I then pointed out Billy Dixon and Mr Rath expressed his knowledge of him migrating buffalo herd. Mr Rath told me the herd was located on the south side of the Arkansis River, just below Crooked Creek. I thought to myself at the time that this arrangement was indeed a good fortune for us.
Speaker 1:Mr Rath had just arrived in that city and was putting together a hide operation. Rath and his partner, a man by the name of Robert Wright, had set up a store with the idea of trade and general merchandise for buffalo hides. They had a hide yard near the railroad tracks. The hide yard was where the buffalo skins were purchased, stretched, examined for quality and shipped eastward. They were in need of buffalo hunters, a team of skinners and wagons to harvest buffalo hides. While we were there, we ventured into some of the dance halls. It did not take long before Billy got tired of the place. He was not fond of dancing, nor was he much of a drinker.
Speaker 1:After we had been at Dodge City for a few days enjoying some good times, we grew a little short on money. In fact I did not have a penny left to me name. Billy, seeing I was penniless, convinced me it was time to move on. So we decided to strike out and find a new hunting ground. Before leaving Dodge City, I helped Billy purchase our provisions for the hunt at the Wright and Rath Merchandising Star. To up our supply, the camp outfit wagon, we purchased an extra large size Dutch oven, frying pan, meat broiler and shovel. These purchases, added to our inventory of camp supplies, consist in a two coffee pots, three large frying pans, a camp kettle, bread pan, tin cups, axes and our coffee mill. The second wagon hauled our bedding ammunition, two extra guns, a grindstone war sacks and the like. Billy preferred his ammunition to be made from lead bars done up in 25 pound sacks. This included 2,000 primers and two 25 pound cans of powder.
Speaker 1:In Dodge City, our two wagons and four man hunting team went up the north side of the Arkansis River to a place called Nine Mile Ridge. This is where Billy and I paused to stare across the vast prairie into its endless horizon At the top of the ridge. I remembered the glorious sight before us, how the prairie wind was our constant companion. I could hear the gentle whisper echoing across the vast sea of grass curpin' in the land that stretched out before us, the great plains swayed beneath me as they went steadily southward. The rich buffalo grass upon which our animals fattened rolled out gently before us as if they were tiny chips blown across the frozen surface of a great sea. Upon the surface of this sea, among the slow hollers and crests, I found myself less and less conscious of any movement forward. We sat tall in our saddles and looked in three directions south, east and west. But we saw no evidence of military patrols.
Speaker 1:Billy, with a gleam in his eye, then boasted you see, the south region of the Arkansis River was forbidden ground. It came to be that way after the Indians made terms at Medicine Lodge. The Indians insisted that the white men obeyed the terms of their treaty and not venture south of the Arkansis River. The Arkansis River was the deadline where no Buffalo hunter should go, patrolled to the south by both the US Cavalry and bands of hostile Indians. Billy was an adventurous man. I guess that's why he convinced our team to cross over to the south side of the river.
Speaker 1:We travelled south until we reached Crooked Creek. There we ran smack into a bunch of Indians and had a skirmish with them. The skirmish consisted of continuous greetings, shouts and shots being fired into the air. This caused my bones to tremble and me heart to beat, with uncertainty rushing into my head. I remember how mortally terrified I was of Indians. I was the best man on the team in any situation, but was horrified at the thought of being scalped and left alive. I could smell the odor of the Indian. Their scent had an effect on me, like it had on the Buffalo. The Buffalo, like me, seemed to know.
Speaker 1:When an Indian was around, meharse also began to give warning, sensing this approach in band of Indians. The Indians could not speak English. This did not prevent us understanding them. Their old chief motioned us to go northward. I could see the appearance of this old warrior. He wore a long, brilliant feather fastened under the skin of his left cheek. All the warriors with him were painted red and yellow. We believed, however, that we were able to take care of ourselves and decided to find the best cover, putting down for the night in a sheltered ravine. That night, each man took his turn at guard and the campfire was kept low.
Speaker 1:The next day, billy and I decided to go out on our own to seek out a herd. We traveled further down the creek, we struck another band of hostiles. This was rather too much of the same thing and we decided, if we valued our scalps, we'd better pull out. We turned around and headed for camp. The signs of the Buffalo became more frequent. Several times they passed over packed trails left by great hards that went down to the river for water, and once they came upon, a huge, saucer-like depression. Nearly six feet in depth at its deepest point and over forty feet across. Her ass, grew to the very edge of this shallow pit. But in the pit itself the earth had been worked to a fine dust. This, billy explained, was a buffalo wallow where the great beast found relief from the insects and lice that plagued them by rolling about in the dust. No buffalo had been there for a long time. Billy pointed out that there were no buffalo chips about and that the grass around the pit was green and uncropped.
Speaker 1:To add to the excitement, we crossed over a ridge and unknowingly began to hear and feel the rumbling of thunder in the distance. Though no storm clouds could be seen, the ground began to tremble and to our astonishment we had become surrounded by a thunder and herd of hulking animals that stretched farther than the eye could see. To our eyes, the sight was both a welcome and a tense moment, as we found ourselves right in the middle of a buffalo stampede. A thousand or more buffalo, directly in our path, were running the plains, kicking up a thunderous cloud of dust instantly blinding our vision. In a panic, we spurred our horses, navigating away from the thunderous sound, heading back over to hill. Once ridden over before, all of this excitement caused us to miss our camp by three miles and because of the detour, we entered our camp during the night through the enemy's country. At sunrise we called all hands round to discuss the situation Plainly.
Speaker 1:To stay south of the Arkansis River meant putting in more time fighting Indians than in Buffalo, but Buffalo had begun coming in by the thousands. So we agreed to remain two or three days and make as big a kill as possible. Hunting was good and a week had slipped by. The hides were green, which forced us to linger about until they were dry. Not only were hides more easily handled when dry, but they also made lighter loads. The hides were pegged around our camp, fleshed side up. It took a few days for the hides to dry. About the ninth day we found ourselves running short of meat and we knew we were. A bunch of Buffalo were grazing about two miles distant from our camp. Billy mounted his horse and told us he would ride out and kill two good ones for meat.
Speaker 1:As Billy rode over to nearby ridge, there was in the men's mind a reasonable concern that Indians were moving through the country. Upon reaching the crest of a nearby hill, billy dismounted his horse and began crawling. When he reached the top of the crest, peering out into the valley below, he saw a small herd. The Buffalo appeared down the brakes in a string along a narrow trail. A deep rumble of the earth followed him. The dust circled about their humped shoulders, with Duke Laws rattling one by one. As they appeared, the herd thrust forward with their shaggy heads down, grunting their noses and a circular dust swept about by the wind.
Speaker 1:Billy was well acquainted with the ways of the Buffalo. He could judge quickly by their actions whether they would run or stand. When approached he saw that these were getting ready to run. Picking out a young bull, billy turned loose with his big fifty gun. The herd stampeted at the first crack and raised such a dust that he could distinguish nothing beyond the barrel of his rifle. Shots continued to fire in rapid sessions as he pulled the trigger. At the indistinguishable mass crackles, a gunfire echoed through the valley. With his dead eye shooting, he brought down seven of the rage and beasts before the herd was out of range.
Speaker 1:The Well Billy did not realise was how the gunfire affected us back at camp. Billy was out of our sight. On the other side of the hill. The muzzle fire from his gun caused us to jump to the conclusion that Indians had attacked Billy. To add to the excitement, a heart of about fifty antelopes appeared on the hill half a mile from camp. The swiftly running animals would traverse a wide circle and dash again to the top of the hill where they would stand rigidly, attentively gazing in the direction of our camp. The excited imaginations of the boys and I in camp soon transformed these harmless creatures into mounted Indians. One of the boys screamed out that Billy had been killed. Another said the Indians scalped him. The excitement in the camp left us without the slightest doubt of Billy having been killed and scalped. His body left welter and out in its own blood and speared repeatedly until it resembled a sieve.
Speaker 1:In the excitement I began yelling at the boys wear and thunder at those primers. I can't find a single one. Yet I saw a lot of them only a moment ago. In a panic I thought to myself, unless we get those shells primed we'll be in bad shape. I began so nervous over an Indian attack that I could not find the primers. I could not feel them rattling about in my shaken hand. The boys noticed that all along I had yelled for the primers. I was holding them in my left hand. In just a few minutes we had prepared ourselves for an escape and to battle whatever had to come first. All the fighting guns were conveniently at hand and all the camp equipment was loaded on the wagon.
Speaker 1:The boys and I was just at the point of pulling out, but it lingered a moment to debate whether we should try to recover Billy's dead body or hoop her up for Dodge City. I had insisted that it would be wrong to go away without being sure that Billy was dead. While this discussion was underway each man was distracted, and his busy is a coon in a hen roost. We did not notice. When Billy rode into camp a few minutes later, the boys gazed at Billy in utmost astonishment and they could not believe that he had returned we began asking him a thousand questions. They laughed over what had happened, each teasing the other about having been scared out of a year's growth, all except for me. All the boys took to joking in good nature. I was outraged by the event. When the boys began poking fun at me about losing the primers, I slashed on my war paint and squared off to fight. I shouted I'd fight with bare fists, with a butcher knife or with a gun. Whomever repeated the story. The boys recognized my anger, knowing my Irish temperament, and began to back away. They knew I would have done it as I threatened, but all of them liked me more from a distance.
Speaker 1:As the hides dried, we rolled them lengthwise in lots of ten, tied them into a bale, loaded twenty to thirty-five bales onto our wagon and drove to Dodge City. We were lucky enough to strike a good market. We had to make three trips to get all the hides, for which we received $2.50 to $4 apiece, the highest price we ever received. The full amount was $1,975, but Mr Roth wrote us a check for an even two thousand, a little matter like $25 being of no account in those days in Dodge City. It was December 3rd when we made our final trip to Dodge City, I wanted to celebrate a little with the money I was paid, so I went over to Tom Sherman's place.
Speaker 1:Just as I was approaching the barred walk, the doors swung wide open and two men clambered out in a brawl. A few gunshots blared from within Sherman's place, so I took a run to the side of the building, peaking out. Behind the bottom outside stairs I heard one man shout out I got you, hennessy, I got you dead to right and I'm gonna shoot you dead. Hennessy, wearing a soldier's uniform, raised his hands high in the air, yelling back at his nemesis Come out here a little farther so I can see you dropping the dirt. Do you think you can take a soldier on in US Army? Well, you're wrong, you're dead wrong.
Speaker 1:I watched as a man approached the edge of the barge with his pistol drawn and his right foot stepped off the barge. So did his pistol blaze fire, the muzzle flashed, smoke circled and Hennessy spun, hitting face down in the street. I got you, hennessy, I got you, shouted the man it was. At that moment, hennessy rolled over with pistol cocked and returned fire, striking the man directly in the chest. I watched in wonderment as the other man fell face forward in the street and rolled on his back with a lifeless moan. Then I heard two more shots ring out from inside Sherman's saloon, with one man falling through the door and out onto the parche. The man held his chest high and moaned in desperation for help. After a few minutes the gunfire stopped and the smoke cleared.
Speaker 1:It was then my desire for whiskey crept back into my tauts. I can have a few more in me, I taut to myself, for my thirst ran rapidly. With genuine anxiety, I rounded the corner of my hide-in place, looked out into the street, saw a few buffalo hunters attendin' the three downed men and stepped into Tom Sherman's place. The room clamored with the confusion of individuals who stumbled about the smoke-covered space. One man lay on his side by a card table next to a fallen chair with a cryin' dancehall girl on her knees next to him. I approached the bar with caution, ordered a drink and asked the bartender about the dead man on the floor and his girl. A man next to me, a man named JB Edwards, gulped down a shot of whiskey and said that woman you see with a gush of tears, is Billy Playford's gal and he's in the street. The man she's cryin' over is a gambler named Morehouse. What you see is the result of what happens around here if you get too close to another man's gal.
Speaker 1:Afterward, billy and I parted our ways. He went back to the range to hunt buffalo. I, on the other hand, went to gambling. I stayed in Dodge City a little longer before joining the crew grayed in track to the Colorado Line. When leaving town, a Newton reporter arrived asking about the shootin' a hennessy in Morehouse. The article stated the four men were killed.
Speaker 1:Dodge City is making herself notorious as a fast frontier town. Dodge old timer JB Edwards said that to shoot in the Morehouse had nothing to do with the soldier gambler dust-up. Morehouse, he said, got drunk and tried to fool with Billy Playford's gal and Playford, taken advantage of the general ruckus, just plugged him. That's it for now. Remember to check out our Wild West Podcast shows on iTunes or WildWestPodcastBuzzSproutcom. You can also catch us on Facebook at Facebookcom slash Wild West Podcast or on our YouTube channel at Wild West Podcast Mike King YouTube. So make sure you subscribe to our shows listed at the end of the description text of this podcast to receive notifications on all new episodes. Thanks for listening to our podcast. If you have any comments or want to add to our series, please write us at WildWestPodcastGmailcom. We will share your thoughts as they apply in future episodes.