pull of the trigger. If the Colt revolving rifle was said to have been particularly bad in this respect, the Remington percussion revolver was the worst offender. Modern black powder enthusiasts are aware of this threat, and take steps to prevent an occurrence. It could be that the tough frontier sorts didn’t put much stock in the danger, and tended to dismiss the phenomena as rumor – until it happened to them.
An eyewitness account which appeared in the February 4, 1905 issue of Forest and Stream gave some credence to the hearsay. Shortly after the Civil War, there was a small military encampment just north of new Orleans. A dozen soldiers, including our correspondent Cabio Blanco, took the afternoon off for a bit of pistol practice. When it came his turn to fire, a young trumpeter shooting one of the infernal Remingtons had three or four cylinders go off simultaneously. With a still stinging hand, the boy flung the gun into the canal where it doubtlessly still remains. (He wound up compensating Uncle Sam for the government issue pistol; $13 was deducted from his pay.)
Mr. E.C. Phillips of Trinidad, Colorado, wrote in the December, 1912 issue of Outers Book that he had one of the personal weapons of famous scout and frontiersman Kit Carson. This was an over/under double-barreled percussion rifle. There were two hammers, one on either side of the arm. Evidently, Carson saw the merit in having the extra shot at his command. Carlos Gove of Denver made the rifle entirely by hand for Carson in 1858. Reportedly, Gove made two such rifles. The other was for noted scout and Indian fighter Tom Tobin. Tobin, incidentally, is reported to have captured the infamous Esponisa band of outlaws for the price on their heads. Tobin camped with the gang, and while they slept, killed them and cut off their heads. He then gathered the heads in a gunny sack and carried the grisly baggage to the authorities and claimed the rewards.
Phillips pointed out that the Carson rifle was a choice and rare specimen, and marked a step forward in the development of firearms. Also noted was the fact that the rifle was for sale. One has to wonder if the Carson story was not a scheme to enhance the price tag.
F.J. Carnes burst into the gun department of the period Field and Stream magazine and expounded on the subject of Colt revolvers. Although the Arms and Ammunition column editor Bob Nichols may not have approved of intruders in his magazine space, he allowed Carnes some ink to clarify a few inaccuracies. Responding to some misinformation spread through previous statements made in the column regarding the earliest of Colt revolvers, Carnes very ably proceeded to set a lot of people straight. Along with the text, Carnes published a photo of his Patterson Colt, as well as a Walker model Dragoon from his own collection. The latter was a well-worn example, with the company number of “D” co. 189. For the sole benefit of the reader, we must presume, Carnes appraised his rare Colt, assigning to it a value of $500. Nickols opined that the topic was an interesting one, and perhaps a bit more devotion to the old guns might induce folks to rummage through their attics and turn up more scarce Colts.
With old guns under such discussion during this period, the public’s fascination and interest in the outlaw and other notable gunmen of the frontier grew exponentially, which sparked a fairly widespread side discussion on gunslinger topics. This seems to have peaked in the early 1920s. “Could the Bad Men of the West Really Shoot?” and “The Truth About Wild Bill” were among the juicy titles.
The bad man was the seldom seen but perpetually perceived image of the Wild Frontier. His willingness to use the gun and his alleged proficiency with it were a big part of the mystique. Most of us are able to relate to an attraction to and a fixation with the outlaw, though we may not be able to put our fingers on the reasons. Each of us as youngsters played cowboys and Indians. I can’t recall any of my boyhood chums volunteering to be the village dolt that groomed horses at the livery. Not one wanted to clerk at the dry goods store or perform coolie labor with the railroad gang. All of them wanted to be the good guy or the bad guy (depending). We all wanted to be the players who got to carry and shoot the guns.
Many gray-haired eyewitnesses, and some who would have liked to be so regarded, took up a pen and offered first hand accounts of their acquaintances, friendships, chance meetings, or narrow escapes with one of the West’s celebrated desperados. Some of this must simply be taken with a grain or two of salt, but a percentage of the narratives are certainly to be considered reliable. Sifting fact from fiction is impossible. Nevertheless, this material makes mighty interesting reading.
A description of one person’s relationship with Calamity Jane, as a good example, appeared in a Hunter-Trader-Trapper magazine in 1925. Regrettably, there is no mention of her guns. Old men who remembered well not being shot by Billy the Kid wrote with questionable authority during the same time. Wild Bill Hickok seems to have left an endless string of human beings that knew him well, judging from the printed evidence.
Not everyone was entranced by the common guns of the immigrant or pioneer farmer, the guns that really won the West. Everyone was, it seems, interested in the guns of the gunman. I daresay we still are. A few of these firearms that once were used by the infamous made their way into the hands of an individual or a family, where they had been closely held for two or three decades before they were presented to readers of an outdoor magazine. Collectors had a few of them too.
The Saunders collection contained at least three guns used by Jesse James: a .36 Colt Navy, a Starr, and a Colt M1873. From Outdoor Life of October of 1923.
Belle Starr’s ‘73 Winchester .44-40 came to light in the July of 1920 Outdoor Life. Belle was the daughter of a Methodist minister, a good girl gone astray. One of the West’s great outlaw leaders, she ran with the James gang and Jim Cummings, and generally terrorized Oklahoma when it was known as Indian Territory.
Missourian Fred E. Sutton wrote in his brief note that Belle was killed at Younger’s Bend in the I.T. (Indian Territory) on February 3, 1889. Edgar Watson was credited with the deed. After Belle hit the ground, her saddle mare Venus swam the river and was intercepted by U.S. Marshal James Boles, who lifted the carbine from its saddle scabbard. Sometime later he gifted the gun to Mr. Sutton, its owner in 1920. The photograph accompanying Mr. Sutton’s essay indicated that BELLE STARR is rather crudely but conspicuously carved on the right side of the butt stock . On one side of the breech in her name in brass letters. On the other side is a brass figure of a bell and a star. One would suppose that this precious Winchester is in a major collection. On the other hand, it could still be reposing in a closet somewhere in Missouri.
The largest collection of old guns that was made public knowledge was that of C. Burton Saunders of Berryville, Arkansas. Outdoor Life editor J.A. McGuire judged that an account of Mr. Saunders’ vast collection was sufficiently noteworthy to warrant a three-and-a-half page coverage in the October 1923 issue. Perhaps the centerpiece of Saunders’ 700-plus guns was a Colt Navy once owned by Jesse James. Supporting the claim was a letter from the son of the man Jesse gave the pistol to in 1877. Thomas G. Davis had done James a favor of some sort, and the method of demonstrating his appreciation was to present Mr. Davis with a gun when he happened to be temporarily weaponless. The barrel is inscribed “Jesse James, Sep.12, [sic] Pilot Knob, Mo.” Also worthy of mention is a Single Action Colt that was said to have been given to James’ brother-in-law at Sonora, California. The relative later lent it to a forest ranger and the gun was ruined when his cabin burned. Saunders was later able to acquire it.
A 44-caliber Starr six-shooter was decorated by James himself with a copper dagger and an inverted letter “J” inletted into the grip. Driven into the grip was a number of small nails, each of which was believed to have represented a man fallen dead to the Starr. Included in this count were four law officers who tried to arrest Jesse in 1876 at the Miller Ranch, five miles out of Joplin. Legend has it that after the revolver was emptied, James threw it on a table and made his getaway. A servant woman present immediately dropped the gun into a jar of warm lard that was on the hearth. She later buried the jar together with the concealed gun, and it was preserved in this
