Scandals and Scoundrels from the Old West

By Alton Pryor

There were scandals and scoundrels throughout the west. Consider the dance instructor that sued a cable-car company because an accident turned her into a nymphomaniac. She was awarded $50,000.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alton Pryor
• Release date: Jun 24, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458151834

Alton Pryor

Alton Pryor has been a writer for magazines, newspapers, and wire services. After retiring, he turned to writing books. He is the author of 18 books, which he has published himself.

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Scandals and Scoundrels from the

Old West

By Alton Pryor

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 Alton Pryor

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I remain convinced that there is no hope for the human race and that we are in the terminal stages of Life As We Know It. This book is an attempt to amuse myself and others while we're waiting for the last lug nut to fly off the last wheel of civilization.

Mark Twain

Table of Contents

Chapter 1-The Unruly Judge

Chapter 2-Poker Alice

Chapter 3-California and Slavery

Chapter 4-Mike Fink

Chapter 5-A Great Diamond Hoax

Chapter 6-Lou the Fixer

Chapter 7-A Riverboat Gambler

Chapter 8-Soapy Smith

Chapter 9-The Biggest Scoundrel

Chapter 10-The Pony Boys

Chapter 11-Lola Montez

Chapter 12-Swiftwater Bill Gates

Chapter 13-Jilted Piano Player

Chapter 14-The Dollar Store

Chapter 15-Dam Disaster

Chapter 16-The Baron of Arizona

Chapter 17-Joe ‘Yellow Kid’ Weil

Chapter 18-‘They Hung the Sheriff’

Chapter 19-Bath House & Hinky Dink

Chapter 20-Mt. Shasta Tale of Gold

Chapter 21-Crazy Stoddard

Chapter 22-Canada Bill Jones

Chapter 23-‘Dirt Pile’ Gold Swindle

Chapter 24-The Cable Car Nymphomaniac

Chapter 25-Premier Check Forger

Chapter 26-Pinckney Pinchback

Chapter 27-Mob Justice in Sonoma

Chapter 28- The Hanging of Hong Di

Chapter 29- Simon Cameron

Chapter 30- The Slave Auction

How I Became A Publisher

Chapter1.

The Unruly Judge

The Old Town Plaza in Albuquerque

Gambling was both legal and wide open in Albuquerque. Town authorities relied heavily on the sale of saloon licenses and fines imposed for disturbances at the gambling tables to help maintain the municipal government.

As towns sprouted in the 19th-century American West—outside Army forts, at river crossings along wagon trails, in mining districts and at railheads—some of the first structures built were recreational facilities. Recreation for the almost totally male population inevitably meant Three-W vices of the frontier—whiskey, whoring and wagering.

Since no stigma was attached to games of chance, distinguished pillars of the community indulged openly. One prominent gambling addict was the town’s leading magistrate, Judge William C. Heacock. He could be found most nights whiling away his time dealing three-card Monte in his favorite Albuquerque saloon

Dealers banked their own games. If they made money, it was theirs. If they lost, it was out of their own pocket.

Judge Heacock loved playing three-card Monte in the backroom of a saloon in Albuquerque, New Mexico. He also presided over Albuquerque’s night court, which he opened and closed at his own discretion.

When the judge suffered a bad losing streak, he called in a town deputy and said, Get me a drunk with money in his pockets that is guilty of disorderly conduct.

Judge Heacock’s widow told an interviewer of one incidence in which the judge ran out of money. Deputies were dispatched to find a drunk. The deputies soon returned carrying a limp man between them.

What the Hell? asked the judge? "What’s that you got?

Your honor, replied a deputy, as he laid his burden on the floor, we found him in the back room of the Blue Indigo.

Can he stand trial or is he dead drunk? asked the judge.

He’s not drunk, but he’s dead all right. He croaked himself over there in the Blue Indigo and the proprietor insisted we get him out of there.

This annoyed the judge. Didn’t the fools ever hear of an inquest? he asked. Heacock had sent for a lucrative drunk, not a drooling suicide.

The judge turned to his deputies. This court is a court of justice. The right of habeas corpus must not be ignored. The prisoner must be given a speedy and fair trial. This court is ready to hear evidence. What is the charge?

Your Honor, said a deputy, The charge has not yet been determined.

This court will hear no case without a charge. Did you search the prisoner?

There was a letter to some dame—began the deputy."

Any money?

The deputy counted out $27.32.

Any weapons?

A deputy produced a gun found in the dead man’s hip pocket.

Has the prisoner anything to say before sentence is imposed upon him?

The judge cocked his ear toward the dead prisoner, listening for a response. In view of the unresponsiveness of the prisoner, which this court interprets as contempt, and in view of the unlawful possession of a lethal weapon, this court imposes a fine of $20.00 and court costs, pronounced the judge.

You might as well leave him there till morning, the judge instructed his deputies, pocketing the money.

The judge returned to his Monte game in the saloon below with enough money to continue dealing.

His wife remembered well enough the shack she and Judge Heacock lived in—you couldn’t call it a house—for there weren't any real houses in Albuquerque in those days. The shack was on South Second Street where it was replaced by the Crystal Beer Garden. It was a dusty spot and she wanted her husband to buy a little land near Robinson Park where there were a few trees and a pump.

She would have been satisfied with a one-room house and a tent there, she said, but her husband said a house built on that spot would sink into the quicksand in no time. He had no eye for business, she said. He knew just one thing—the law.

Mrs. Heacock recalled one night in the 1890s when she heard shots as she was clearing the supper table. She ran to the door to see what was happening. Her husband, the judge, called her back, telling her the safest thing to do was to lie on the floor. The cowboys had no desire to kill, but it was safer to keep out of the way of their bullets."

On one occasion, a cowboy killed a child. The cowboy was drunk and was looking for black cats to shoot. He was horrified when he realized what he had done. The townspeople hung him as an example in order to make Albuquerque safe for their children.

Judge Heacock, who prosecuted the case, was so upset when the man was hung he refused thereafter to serve except as a defense lawyer.

In an interview Mrs. Heacock said they used to do funny things in Albuquerque, many of them in the name of justice.

She told of a well-dressed stranger coming to town from the East. He rode a hack to the hotel on First Street and was paying his fare when two big deputies arrested him for being a suspicious character.

He was too well-dressed and they needed money for the city that day, recalled Mrs. Heacock.

In another instance, Judge Heacock sent El Fago Baca to his own jail for a month. The judge was low on funds and dispatched his deputies to find a drunk for the night court.

When they tried to arrest Jesus Romero, a friend of Elfego Baca’s, Mr. Baca objected and hit one of the policemen over the head with his huge silver watch. Coincidentally, the injured man was one of Albuquerque’s favorite policemen.

When the crowd saw him lying unconscious, they assisted the other deputy in escorting Mr. Baca to night court. Deputy Romero was completely forgotten.

Drunken and disorderly conduct was the charge against Baca, who vehemently denied the allegation.

You’re crazy, said Elfego.

Silence, bellowed the judge. The judge wanted to delay matters until a night sergeant could check Elfego’s pockets and find out how much money he had.

Elfego Baca

I know exactly how much I’ve got, Elfego blared at the sergeant. $18.19. If you count a nickel less you’ll get yours later and good and plenty.

Shut up! said the judge, trying to assume a judicial dignity.

Well, wait and see, replied Elfego amiably.

Guilty or not guilty asked the court.

Not guilty! said Elfego, and you all know it damn well!

Thirty days or ten dollars and costs, said the judge.

I suppose ten dollars and costs are $17.19, said Elfego. You ain’t going to pull that stuff on me. I’ll take the thirty days.