Life and Times of Wild Bill Troutwine

By Bill Troutwine

Bill Troutwine’s story is one every person, on both sides of the law, will enjoy. Not knowing if he wanted to be a cowboy or a pilot, law enforcement and aviation became Bill’s passion. Loving a good challenge, often times led Bill into situations where escape seemed impossible. Read what he did when facing lean times as a bounty hunter. Learn how he and his buddies survived when dropped off in Alaska as the temperature drops and keeps dropping with the plane not due back for over a week. What about how he bought a place in Montana on a whim... then told his wife in Kentucky! Being invited on a “free fishing trip” that turns into a revenge payback. And as hard as it is to believe, as late as 1970, there were lawless towns, wrecking mayhem and keeping their own laws... until Bill became sheriff. Enjoying a good bear, cougar or elk hunt as much as he did, inevitably led to a confrontation with one or another! Rescuing a hunter who shot himself in the butt, an international kidnapping, having his wife threatened, these are just a few of the situations Bill has found himself adventure, hear from his wife, children and family what it was, and is, like, having Bill as a husband, father, brother and friend. His masterful storytelling style takes the reader on a fast-paced ride through the life of “The Last Gunslinger”. Get lost in the adventure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mystic Mustangs Publishing
• Release date: Aug 21, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370375141

Book preview

By Shela Troutwine Bolus

Many people have told me they think my brother is a very interesting person, or maybe I should say, interesting character. Coupled with the fact that he has a talent in the art of storytelling, as well as, great material from his true-life experiences, I have asked him multiple times over many years to write down some of his experiences. He always replied that he didn’t know where to start. I even gave him a tape recorder and asked him to just start talking. Still no luck. And finally, one Christmas, I convinced him that writing about some of his adventures would be a great gift to his kids and grandkids. Somehow, that struck a chord with him, and he started pumping out the stories faster than I could read them.

Some of these short stories portray the zest of youth with a make my day mentality. As the stories progress to Winnett, Montana, you will find the transition to a man with the style and balance of Andy in Mayberry. You will get to know about the Sheriff who has the ability to sit down calmly with a rebellious Freeman, have coffee in his kitchen, serve him with a warrant and make the guy like him!

As you read these stories I want to clarify the term ‘storytelling’. I mean he has a talent for bringing you into the moment and action of what has transpired. I do not intend to convey the notion of storytelling as an embellishment of what actually happened. I assure you, this is not the case here. His family and close friends can all attest to the accuracy of what has occurred, as many of us have been there through some of his adventures. In the concluding pages, I have asked a few of those close to him to write ‘a little something’ to validate these events and to attest to the fact that he is truly Wild Bill.

In the following pages, you will find some of the stories he has chosen to share, The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly.

Believe me, he could fill another book.

Although he never looked that tough, he is living proof that you can’t judge a book by its cover.

Introduction

By Bill Troutwine

What Makes A Good Cop?

A very large portion of my career has been devoted to law enforcement, and I would like to share the reason I was drawn to that field. The average person probably won’t understand how someone can be hard and cold, and at the same time, kind and compassionate. A good cop must be like steel toward the criminal he faces, but also feel so much compassion and sympathy for the crushed and abused, that he sits down and cries with the victim. This is what it takes to be a good cop and what I call a ‘John Wayne’ heart!

As you read these stories, I think you will agree with me, that I am that good cop with the ‘John Wayne’ heart. It is true I have a very stern side, but I also have compassion and sympathy. Many times, I have gone to the aid of a battered and abused person, and while in uniform, I would hold the victim and cry with them, while feeling their pain. In my various law enforcement jobs, I have worked with people who have said I was a very kind person, and at the same time, I had to face hardened criminals and show them I intended to win. It was those times, when I was forced to portray myself as cold-blooded as they were.

As a child, I felt great compassion for the kid who was considered the underdog. Some of my very best friends were the most picked on kids in school. I still cannot stand bullies. It is true I have been in many fights, but I can honestly say I have never started a fight in my life. In fact, many of my fights were because some big bully was pushing someone else around just because they could. The driving force in me to become a cop was so I could help helpless victims, try to show them how they can fight back, and how to break the choking ties of abusive bullies. When you think about it, all criminals are abusers. They do not care how much they hurt someone else. They will take whatever they want, whether it is your property or your life. There must be laws and good people to enforce those laws, otherwise; there is chaos and rule by the strongest cold hearted bullies.

While living a life with the intensity it takes to be in law enforcement, I needed balance so I have pursued a variety of different adventures in what I define as leisure. Hunting, horseback riding, boating, fishing, flying, sky diving and snowmobiling are some that come to mind. These activities were, and are still an outlet for the intensity and demands of public service. It has been a way to connect with my family and friends who seem to enjoy being a part of the fun and adventure of the great outdoors. Additionally, I am very proud of my children and grandchildren, because they have the character and the ability to face difficulties and challenges with the survival skills of past generations.

I have led a fast, wild, and on the edge life with most of my jobs and even my leisure time. I love the great outdoors where I have found some of my greatest enjoyments in life. At the same time, I have felt my calling was to champion the hurt and abused. My intent has always been to leave this world a little better because of my passing through!

God has blessed me greatly and assigned the best Guardian Angel to watch over me that anyone could possibly have!!!

I hope you enjoy reading this book, and may God bless each one of you.

Wild Bill Troutwine

Pictures from Bill’s Youth

Bill Soloed at 20 years old.

Sky Diving at 25 years old,Melissa said, Look at Daddy, Look at Daddy. He is flying on a blanket.

Bill served in the Kentucky National Guard

Playing cowboy at age 14 and riding Dusty. Bill taught him to rear on command.

Blazing Guns

I was born on September 11th, 1943 to Curran Lee Troutwine and Minnie Price Troutwine. We lived on a farm in Bullitt County, Kentucky. It was during the war, and life was hard back then. We had no phone, no electricity, no indoor plumbing, and no vehicle. I was two years old before I rode in a car, except when I was newly born and a neighbor brought us home from the hospital in his old Model-A Ford. I wore dresses made from old feed sacks until I was two. Due to the war effort, you couldn’t buy anything much. Most everything had to be handmade, but life didn’t seem too bad at the time. In fact, I think it had a lot to do with shaping my character.

Life continued, and things got better. The fifties arrived, and Eisenhower was elected President. The country was starting to really prosper, and times got much better. I remember getting to live like a kid and to afford some toys. Parents had to work hard, but always seemed able to have time for their children. That was when parents had time to tell their children stories. Children had time to play, and let their imaginations run wild. These are among my fondest memories.

As a little boy growing up, I dreamed of being a cowboy, packing a six gun in the Wild West, and fighting bad guys. I would get to see an occasional western movie at the theater, and about once a week I would get a Gene Autry or a Roy Rogers comic book. It wasn’t until I was 11 years old that we got a TV, and I could watch cowboys every weekend.

I remember at around five or six years old, I would sit in my father’s lap, and he would tell me stories about him being Town Marshal in Shepherdsville, Kentucky. There was one story that stands out in my mind. The Bullitt County Sheriff came to my father, and said to him, Curran, will you go with me to arrest Buck Garner? There is no one that will go with me. They are all too afraid of Garner.

The Sheriff had a warrant for Buck Garner and was going to arrest him. Garner was absolutely the meanest man in Bullitt County, and no one would dare to confront him. The Sheriff’s Deputy quit his job so he wouldn’t have to go with the Sheriff to get Garner. The Sheriff told my dad that if he wouldn’t go with him, the Sheriff would have to go after him alone.

The Sheriff said, Curran, I am no match for Garner. If I must go by myself, Garner will kill me.

Dad agreed to go with him. They devised a plan. My dad was supposed to cover the back door, and the Sheriff would cover the front. The Sheriff told Dad, I will yell in at him, and tell him to come out with his hands up. If he runs out the back, you shoot him. If he runs out the front without his hands up, I’ll shoot him. If he refuses to come out, we’ll burn him out.

Well, Garner surrendered without a fight, and they asked him why he chose to surrender. He said, I saw Curran Troutwine hiding with a gun behind the house, and I heard you yelling. I knew you all was (sic) planning on killing me, so I knew my only chance was to give up.

I have heard that story probably a thousand times. I got just as scared and excited the last time, as I did the first time I heard it. This one story is largely responsible for me making a career out of law enforcement.

As I was growing up, I continually played cowboys. I wore a cap pistol everywhere I went. I usually wore a play badge, too. In those days, cap guns were just another toy. I even took my guns to school, which was not at all uncommon in those days. Weekends would find me and some friends watching Roy Rogers, Gene Autry, and Hop-along Cassidy. We would get our horses and attempt every stunt that we had just seen them do. You would find us running beside a horse with our hands around the saddle horn, and then we would swing up on the side of the horse as he was running. Another trick we saw on TV was to run up to the horse, put both hands on the horse’s hips, and then jump up on the horse’s rear end from the ground. Of course, we accomplished that trick as well. When we played cowboys, I would always be the Marshall. I don’t ever remember being the bad guy.

As I grew older my cap guns became real guns. At the age of 14, I got my first pistol. It was a 9 shot .22, High Standard Revolver- western style. I practiced fast draw with that thing each day for hours at a time, and I shot thousands and thousands of rounds through it. I became very fast and very accurate with that pistol. There were very few, if any, local people that could match me.

I went in the army at 21 years old and received more firearms training. In basic training, I set a new range record for the most consecutive hits without a miss. I was told by my Drill Instructor Sergeant that I was one of the deadliest shooters he had seen.

Aviation

If I wasn’t playing cowboy and out chasing bad guys, I would play I was flying dangerous missions. My childhood was very similar to my adult life. Even as an adult, I have never been quite sure if I am a cowboy or a pilot. For those of you old enough to remember the old Sky King TV show, I guess that describes me best. I’m an old cowboy pilot sheriff, who by the grace of God, made it to a mature (old) age.

Although no one I knew was a pilot, I nevertheless pretended to be a pilot. I was flying in cardboard boxes that I made to resemble a cockpit. I would sit in my cardboard airplane for hours, pretending to fly my plane and land on dangerous and treacherous landing strips. Landing strips, which of course no one else would dare attempt to land on, in order to rescue stranded people that were sure to die if I wasn’t able to land and get them out.

The year before I went into the Army, in February of 1964, at 20-years-old, I got my first ride in an airplane, and right there and then, I knew I was born to fly. A couple of weeks later, I started taking flying lessons. The lessons cost $10 an hour; $7 to rent the airplane and $3 for the instructor. That sounds cheap enough, but back then, $10 was a lot of money, especially for a young man just getting started in life. I managed to scrape up enough money to take enough lessons to solo.

On the 7th of April 1964, after 6 hours and 45 minutes of flight training, I made my first solo flight. I was now officially a pilot. I immediately went out and bought my first airplane. The airplane was a little two-seater. It was a 1946 Aeronca Champ that I paid $1,000 for.

The money for that plane came from a little house my father had given me when I was 12 years old. He wanted me to have it so I could rent it out and always have a little spending money. After being bit by the flying bug, I decided to sell the house and buy an airplane. I flew that plane around for a couple of years without any more training until I finally decided to get legal and get a pilot’s license.

While in the Army, and at 22-years-old, I started flight school and got my private pilot’s license. This just increased my desire to keep learning. So, I kept studying, until I became a commercial pilot with an instrument and a multi-engine rating. After that, I obtained an instructor’s rating to teach basic, advanced, multi-engine, instrument, and tail-wheel aircraft. Additionally, I obtained an aircraft mechanic’s license and was later appointed as a FAA Inspector Designee, enabling me to perform annual inspections.

As of now, at this time in my life, I have over 5,000 logged flight hours as a pilot in command.

Back in the 1970’s, I flew both commercial and charter flights. While I liked flying commercial flights for Falcon Aviation, the charter ones were more interesting. On the charter flights I met many well-known people, including Denny Crum, Fuzzy Zeller, and Martha Lane Collins, the former Governor of Kentucky.

I have had more life-threatening experiences in aviation than in my 20 years of law enforcement. Flying has very little margin for error. It requires good judgment, precision and skill, and a little good luck always helps, too. Like anything else, if you keep your cool, you can usually figure a way out of a situation.

I recall a particularly stressful flight in the summer of 1985. I was now 41-years-old. Although, this was not one of the most serious and dangerous experiences, it is one of my most memorable ones, because I was hauling the most precious cargo of my flying career. I was flying my daughters, Melissa and Penny, to Roanoke, Virginia to visit their aunt. We were in a friend’s late model and very well equipped Cessna 182, which he loaned me for the trip, because the weather was bad, and it was much better equipped than my plane. I filed an Instrument flight plan, and we left Springfield, Kentucky where the Cessna 182 was kept in the hanger.

We had only climbed about 1,000 feet when we went into solid clouds.The visibility was zero, but the ride was smooth. I continued to climb to my assigned altitude of 9,000 feet, leveled off, turned on the auto-pilot and kicked back, expecting to do nothing until time to set up for the landing in Roanoke. About half-way there we began to hit rain and then some turbulence. It started to be one of the hardest rainstorms I have ever seen. The sound was very loud, pounding against the plane. It sounded like the plane was being pounded with thousands and thousands of BBs. The plane started going up and down and turning first one way then the other. I immediately shut the auto-pilot off and started flying the plane by hand again until it stabilized. There was still some turbulence, but once I disengaged the auto-pilot and was manually flying the plane, the ride wasn’t that bad. My youngest daughter, Penny, who was probably about 13 at the time, was sitting behind me. She started patting me on the shoulder with her little hand and said, I’m not afraid, Daddy can do it. I know Daddy can do it. (She later told me she was scared to death!)

Well, we made it to the Roanoke area, and I set up for the ILS (glideslope) landing and about three-fourths of the way down the glideslope, we began to see glimpses of the runway lights. I am sure everyone felt a sigh of relief. I know I did. I let the girls off, and after some goodbye hugs, I took off in the stormy weather and headed back to Springfield.

The trip was uneventful, except for the rain. When I arrived in Springfield, I told the owner about the erratic actions of the auto-pilot. He had an electronics expert check it out. It was determined that due to the extremely heavy rain, water had gotten into the main control servo (brain) of the auto-pilot. This caused it to short out and give false inputs, causing it to make the airplane go in all sorts of directions. If I had not disengaged the auto-pilot, it would have