Reminiscences of a Showman

In telling the story of borderland and its environments, of the passing of the buffalo, the cowboy and the pony express and the vernacular of ranchland itself, I know of nothing more appropriate than one of Walt Mason's effusions in the Emporia, Kan., Gazette, which fully describes the situation in poetic prose, and was written in appreciation of the last visit of the "Two Bills" to that city a few years ago.

The Two Bills.

"Buffalo Bill and Pawnee Bill!" Thinking of them sends a thrill through this old fat heart of mine, likewise up and down my spine. Years ago, when I was young, ere my knees were badly sprung, ere the lines were on my cheek, and my joints began to creak, ere the teeth had left my jaws, Buffalo Bill my hero was! How I longed to ride with him through the forest vast and dim, killing Injuns by the score, wading to my knees in gore! How I longed with him to sail down the long and lonely trail, doing in his knightly way deeds of valor every day! Now the Bills are waxing old, and the prairie trails are cold, and no more the wood and dell echo to the Injun's yell. Where the bison used to roam, now the cows are coming home; where the campfire used to glare, now the farmer whacks his mare. These two Bills bring back the zest of the wild, the vanished West! For an hour again we see Kansas as she used to be, in the golden days of yore, days that shall return no mone! WALT MASON."

Closely associated with Buffalo Bill and the history of the Wild West exhibition there is no one who has figured more extensively in the records than Major Gordon W. Lillie - Pawnee Bill - who was born February 14, 1860, at Bloomington, Ill., where he was educated in the grammar school, and when a boy of seventeen started out for himself. He drifted to Kansas and finally to Oklahoma, where he joined Trapper Tom's outfit, and later became Indian interpreter and was finally proclaimed the white chief of the Pawnee tribe. He led the "Boomers" in their effort to open Oklahoma to white settlers. When Buffalo Bill started his first Wild West exhibition, of which Colonel Frank North was a member, Pawnee Bill accompanied Colonel North as his orderly. In time however, Major Lillie branched out for himself and met with distinct success with a smaller show, which he took to Europe and continued for a number or years, or until he returned to America with a Far East contingent and finally consolidated with Colonel Cody, when the exhibition became known as “Buffalo Bill’s Wild West and Pawnee Bill’s Great Far East.” I remained as its advance and general manager until the dissolution of the firm.

During much of this career Major Lillie was accompanied by his charming wife, formerly Miss Mary Emma Manning, who was born of a modest Quaker family, in Philadelphia, Pa., and was married to Major Lillie in that city, something over twenty-five years ago, as is attested by the fact that in celebrating the silver anniversary of that event, quite recently, the members of the Buffalo Bill and Pawnee Bill shows presented the happy pair with a magnificent silver service of great value, with which to decorate the table in the beautiful new home then just completed on Blue Hawk Peak, at Pawnee, Oklahoma, where Mrs. Lillie retired from public life at the end of that season to quietly enjoy the rest and luxuries she had well earned by years of studious endeavor and close application to a profession that is most exacting.

As a young and enthusiastic artist, Mrs. Lillie was the first woman to exhibit her skill in shooting at moving objects, while mounted on horseback and using the side saddle. She won great fame and favor in many lands by reason of her expert marksmanship and many equestrian accomplishments, while her true, womanly qualities always endeared her to a large coterie of warm personal friends who will ever cherish her memory.

Perpetuating the Buffalo.

As Gordon W. Lillie advanced in prosperity he became interested in the propagation of the buffalo on his large ranch at Pawnee, Oklahoma, where he now has, without doubt, the largest herd of buffaloes in existence. It is a pleasant sight to gaze out of your window, if you happen to be a fortunate guest at his bungalow home, and see a vast herd of these animals grazing and roaming at will over the broad acres, frequently coming to within a few feet of the bungalow for water or to receive some dainty morsel thrown to them by the visitors or servants as a reward for their friendly attitude.

It has been Pawnee Bill's ambition to preserve to future generations the fast dying race of American bison. Numerous cowboys and keepers are retained at the ranch year in and year out to herd the animals and to look after their welfare, while the bulk of the animals are permitted to roam in the open fields, in their own natural way to propagate and perpetuate the species. Many scientific experiments have been made in crossing the breeds with native cattle, and some queer combinations, freaks of nature, have been developed in this manner.

I have in my possession a heavy, long fur robe taken from one of these half breeds or catalo, with its peculiar stripes, and long soft fur which defies identification as to the nature of the animal. It has been found that many of the full-blooded buffalo are not productive in captivity, and from time to time these animals are taken from the herd and slaughtered, the heads and robes being greatly sought after for decorative purposes. The flesh of the animal is in demand as a rare and delicate morsel to grace a banquet table or to serve as a repast for those who can afford the luxury.

The Slaughter of the Buffalo.

To illustrate the passing of the buffalo, as decreed by fate and agricultural progress, which has been unnecessarily harsh, not to say brutal, it is only necessary to refer to the statistics given by Henry Oldys, of the department of agriculture. He says: "It is interesting to note that a settler on Onondaga lake, in central New York, in 1772, estimated that 10,000 buffalo were accustomed to visit the salt springs on his place in the course of a season."

The last wild buffalo in the United States outside of the Yellowstone National Park (where there is still a small roaming herd), was killed in 1897. The original range of this animal extended practically over the whole of this country. In 1730 the last buffalo east of the Alleghanies [had] been killed. In 1810 few were to [be] found east of the Mississippi, and [unreadable text] those that were left were confined to small herds, and twenty-seven years later not one was to be found in the United States, except those in captivity.

It is also a matter of historic fact that vast herds of these migrating animals moved north in summer and south in winter, with an instinct that taught every species of wild game to seek a garden spot in season. These herds were so extensive as to halt early army expeditions for days, to permit of their passage and remove their cloud from the horizon.

To give a more concise description of the passing of the buffalo a few stanzas are taken from a poem written by Mr. Foley in the New York Times on the musings of an old frontiersman, entitled:

"Sunset on the Prairie."

"I remember in the sixties, when as far as I could see,
It had never lord or ruler but the buffalo and me;
Ere the blight of man was on it, and the endless acres lay
Just as God Almighty left them, on the restful seventh day;
When no sound rose from the vastness but a murmured hum and din,
Like the eschoed void of silence in an unheard prairie hymn;
And I lay at night and rested in my bed of blankets curled,
Much alone as if I was the only man in all the world.
But the prairie's passed, or passing, with the passing of the years,
Till there to no West worth knowing, and there are no pioneers;
They have riddled it with railroads, throbbing on, and on, and on,
They have ridded it of dangers, till the zest of it is gone,
And I've saddled up my pony, for I'm dull and lonesome here,
To go westward, westward, westward, till we find a new frontier;
To get back to God's own wildness and the skies we used to know -
But there is no West - it's conquered - and I don't know where to go.”

"Wild West" Is True to Life.

Incidental to my reminiscences of "Buffalo Bill" and "Pawnee Bill" and the positions I have occupied in promoting their interests and developing the features of the great West for professional production, I must emphasize the fact that the Wild West has never been considered a circus in any sense of the word, although it has, unquestionably, been one of the most pronounced educational amusement enterprises the world has ever seen. It carries with it the remains of pioneer days, as well as the strenuous romance and literature of borderland.

It is true that roving bands of wild Indians no longer attack the "prairie schooner" or caravans of the early plainsmen, and the outlaws who formerly held up the Deadwood coach have adopted a more scientific method by blowing up the express car on the limited mail or making raids on banking institutions.

Still, there is something invigorating in the life of the ranch and the prairie. The cowboy no longer considers it necessary to shoot up a town in order to qualify for the best society, and a tenderfoot is perfectly safe in wearing a silk hat if he chooses to do so. But ranchland is still a distinctive country, and its inhabitants have peculiarities that are picturesquely their own. It has code of ethics peculiar to itself. It makes its own fashion, has its own code of morals and lives in the open.

The essential features of the cowboy and cowgirl fashions are the wide-rimmed, high-crowned soft hats, high-heeled, short-vamped boots and knotted handkerchiefs, which, worn loosely around the neck, serve for something more than an ornament, as many suppose. It is a protection for the lower part of the face from wind and rain, sand and snowstorms, as the chin may be dropped into it without using the hands, and when shifted to the back protects the neck from the blistering sun.

The same may be said of the wild West girl, the sister of the cowboy. Being a woman, she has the natural desire of her sex to look nice, and this is evinced in her clothing and everyday life. When she forsakes the ranch and becomes a performer in a traveling exhibition there is very little increase in the cost of her wardrobe. A few extra ornaments, the deerskin or calfskin dress, the beaded trimmings, the high protecting boots with spurs and the broad-brimmed cowboy hat, are no evidence of vanity or put on for "show purposes." That is the way a real cowgirl dresses on the ranch and for festive occasions, as it is safe, sane and comfortable. It is still adapted to the conditions under which she lives, and enables her to mount a horse astride and gallop off to the ranges to round up a herd of cattle or a bunch of bronchos, as well as her more sturdy husband or brother.

Vernacular of the Plains.

The Wild West made so popular by "Buffalo Bill" has familiarized the public with many characteristics of the frontier which would never have been known or realized except for these practical lessons in ranch life and vernacular so peculiar to itself. For instance, the omnipresent small boy uses the abbreviated word "chaps" for chaperojos, the wooly leggings worn by the cow punchers; but it is not generally known that these leggings are for the protection of the legs of the cowboy in chasing his charges through the chaparral and underbrush, as well as to serve as a comfortable covering in rain and snow. There are many other terms in the vernacular of the ranch, most of them abbreviations of Spanish words or phrases and sometimes a corruption of good plain English which have become idioms among the ranch men.

As an example, the spring “round up,” when the cattle are branded, is termed a “rodeo” or a cattle drive. Vaquero is the Spanish name for cowboy and a “buccaroo” is a graduate of the ranch who has reached the dignity of a real broncho buster. A “bronk” is a native horse of small size, a sort of cross between the Mexican and Indian pony or cayeuse, and an outlaw is a broncho that cannot be successfully broken to saddle or harness. I have seen many bucking bronchos that could not be ridden, yet were perfectly docile and good workers in harness, and strangely enough, I have seen this same class of bronchos that would carry a man anywhere and everywhere under saddle, but would lie down, roll over and have a frenzied fit when placed in harness.

The cowboys and broncho busters have a number of idioms and technical phrases which they use in expressing themselves in unmistakable terms. To illustrate, "pulling leather" constitutes the act. of grabbing any part of the saddle when trying to ride a broncho, and this act is considered sufficient to disqualify a rider in any contest where prizes are offered. "Choking the horn" signifies to grasp the pommel of the saddle, "Squeezing Lizzie," "grabbing the post" and "holding the jug-handle" mean the same thing in ranch venacular; and "sloppy riding" is a term applied to anyone who sits loosely in the saddle and allows the body to sway with the moving of the horse, which to the professional cowboy is not only bad form, but a disgrace to the calling. A close seat which is steady and firm is what the cowboy strives for, and the man who shows daylight between his seat and the saddle is not admitted into polite society.

After all, fearlessness and ability to ride a wild horse, rope and tie a Texas steer, are the best passports into real ranch life even today, and the spirited contests which take place in the frontier day celebrations, given annually at Cheyenne, or the stampede at Pendleton and other western points, are events where the cowboy is still the hero of the plains. No cattle are too wild for him to capture, no outlaw horses too vicious for him to tackle, and the "sun-fishing" broncho, the kind that jumps into the air, tries to twist the rider off his back and goes down on his forward feet in a cork-screw curve, is his particular delight. These festive occasions usually wind up with a series of broncho balls or dances on horseback, which are equally enjoyed by the cowboys, cowgirls and the willing visitors from far and near.

Likewise the story of the frontiersmen, the men who blazed the trail, the pony express riders, those who were instrumental in building up the Golden West, will soon have become matters of record. This little stanza, taken from Hampton's Magazine, seems to describe their mission and the "Fate of the Frontiersman:"

"The suns of summer seared his skin;
      The cold his blood congealed;
The forest giants blocked his way;
      The stubborn acres' yield
He wrenched from them by dint of arm,
      And grim old Solitude
Broke bread with him and shared his cot
      Within the cabin rude.
The gray rocks gnarled his massive hands;
      The north wind shook his frame;
The wolf of hunger bit him oft;
      The world forgot his name;
But mid the lurch and crash of trees,
      Within the clearing's span
Where now the bursting wheat-heads dip,
      The Fates turned out - a man!

In this connection it seems fitting that these chronicles should contain something of the fearless riders who carried the mails and other valuable articles across the plans on horseback in the early days before railways were completed and the lumbering stage coaches or wagon trains exceedingly slow. Of the brave deeds, stirring incidents and romantic adventures of the gallant riders of the pony express volumes have been written, but much must forever remain unwritten, as it can never be known. Nearly all of the. participants in these memorable, unrecorded events have gone over the "Great Divide." The bullet or arrow of the Indian or the border ruffian has "blue penciled" many a story that would have made most interesting reading had the observer ever lived to tell it.

The Pride of Pony Bob.

Among these nervy and daring men or boys of their time I will mention "Pony Bob" - Robert Haslam - who was one of the early express riders and bore the distinction of being the man to carry the news of Lincoln's election, as president of the United States, across a large portion of the plains, riding 120 miles in eight hours and ten minutes and using thirteen relay of horses to accomplish the feat. He was at different times ambushed by Indians, wounded with flint-headed arrows through the jaw, fracturing it on both sides, and knocking out five teeth.

In his own modest way “Pony Bob” has told me of his many hairbreadth escapes and strenuous days and nights in the saddle. As an example: On one of his trips through a dangerous country, where signal fires of the Indians could be seen on every mountain peak, and there was no possible chance for a change of horses, he rode seventy-five miles, stopping only to feed and water the animal which he rode, and hunted by the Indians who were in close pursuit., Upon arriving at his destination he was prevailed upon to cover the distance to the next station because one of the party detailed for the service declining to undertake the hazard.

The superintendent of the line, a Mr. Marley, turned to "Bob," offering him $50 if he would make the ride. "Bob" volunteered at once and within ten minutes he had adjusted his Spencer rifle, which was a seven-shooter, and a Colt's revolver with two cylinders ready for use. Pushing on through the alkali bottoms and sand hills for thirty miles before he found water, he reached his next station, a distance of thirty-seven miles farther, where he changed horses and then dashed on for a ride of thirty miles more, where he was relieved after having ridden 190 miles, stopping only to eat and change horses. This run is on record as the fastest of the entire route of over 2,000 miles.

After remaining at Smith's Creek, his final destination, for about nine hours, “Bob" started to retrace his journey with the return express. When he arrived at his first station on the route, to his horror he found that the station had been attacked by Indians, the keeper killed and all the horses taken away.

There was but one course to pursue, and that was to go on.

Watering his horse, after having ridden him thirty miles on time, he forged ahead to Sandy Springs, thirty-seven miles away. His road lay through heavy sand and sage-brush, and the traveling was necessarily slow. As the night approached he kept a sharp lookout, and closely watched every motion of his tired pony’s ears, as they were the signals for dangers, as well as guides to safety, but the stillness of the night was relieved only by the howling of the wolves and cayottes, which he took as a sign that no hostile Indians were skulking around, and he reached Sandy Springs in safety.

Before leaving, however, he advised the station agent to accompany him to the “Sink of the Carson,” his next station, as he was sure the Indians would be upon him the next day. This probably saved his companion’s life, for on the following morning the station at Smith's Creek was attacked, and the body of the brave keeper, John Williams, was found a few days thereafter, but not before it had been nearly devoured by wolves.

On his arrival at the Sink of the Carson, he found the station men badly frightened as they had seen some fifty warriors, decked in war paint, skulking in that neighborhood. They had given "Bob" up as lost.

After resting for an hour he started after dark for Bucklands, where he arrived without mishap and only three and a half hours behind schedule time. When he found Mr. Marley at Bucklands and related to him the story of the Cold Springs tragedy and his success, Mr. Marley raised his previous offer and made him a present of $100 in addition to his regular salary.

Artemus Ward's Joke.

Among some of the humerous incidents connected with the pony express, the following is related by William Lightfoot Visscher in his story of “Famous Rides and, Riders," the famous "Artemus Ward" - Charles Farrar Brown was then in the zenith of his fame as a humerous writer and lecturer; Tom Maguire, the most prominent manager and promoter of amusements in San Francisco at that time, who desired to engage Ward for a series of lectures in California. He sent one of the expensive dispatches by the pony express from San Francisco to New York asking Artemus: "What will you take for 100 nights?"

Ward promptly responded by the same expensive means:

"Brandy and water."

The trip was made to California by steamer via Panama and the return overland. The engagement was profitable and Artemus and Maguire frequently enjoyed their joke as well as the large audiences to whom it was told along the route.

A Record Railway Journey.

In direct contrast to the slow-going travel of the days of '49, and later by stage, or the so called fast "Pony Express." I believe that I carry the record for the fastest trip across the continent by regular train service. This feat was accomplished without any particular effort to break the records, but was of sufficient importance at the time to create considerable comment in newspaper and railway circles.

I was in San Francisco making preliminary arrangements for the first visit of the Buffalo Wild West Show to the coast when I received a tele[gram] from Mr. J. A. Bailey, who had just landed in New York from the continent, requesting me to meet him in New York on a certain morning to consult on important business, as he must return to Europe the next day thereafter.

For the moment I was in a quandary, as I was quite overwhelmed with anxiety of my own, having just lost one of our advertising cars by fire while enroute to Portland, Ore., and on that very day was expecting another car from the East to take its place; besides I had only just got started on my San Francisco contracts. A wire to Mr. Bailey, pointing out the situation and brevity of time, also suggesting that he telegraph me particulars, was of no avail as his reply only reiterated the necessity of a personal interview.

In the meantime I had looked up the fast overland train's schedule and found that by leaving on the next limited train I might be able to reach New York before he was to sail.

By working late into the night and keeping several of my agents busy, securing reservations and laying out details for them to pursue in my absence, I packed my handbag and left Oakland pier at 10:30 a.m. Saturday morning. Without a mishap we made the run through to Chicago on time to the minute. While en route I had studied up the train service from Chicago to New York, and found that if we were on time there was a possible chance of catching the new Twentieth Century train on the Lake Shore and New York Central railways. I had twenty minutes to make the transfer from the Chicago and Northwestern to the Lake Shore and Michigan Southern station in Chicago. I made it. The next morning at 9:30, I met Mr. Bailey in our New York office by telegraphic appointment from the train. He appeared to greatly appreciate my dispatch in making the journey and heartily congratulated me when it was discovered that I had broken all records in crossing the Continent without the aid of special engines or train service in exactly three days, nineteen and one-half hours actual running time.

It only required a few hours to complete our business affairs which were of a confidential nature. We took lunch together and at 2 o'clock that afternoon I was again on the Pennsylvania limited back to Chicago, which gave me a full day in that city to look after some matters and leave for San Francisco on the Overland limited that night, reaching the Golden Gate on time, keeping up the details of my work by telegraph to various agents as I journeyed along.

Before I bid Mr. Bailey good-bye, in New York, he slipped a substantial reward into my hand, as he was always accustomed to do when satisfactory services had been rendered.

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