Civil War Reenacting: Tents

By Matthew Pizzolato

One of the biggest disparities at a reenactment when compared to the War is that for the most part, every reenactor has his own tent.  The soldiers during that time weren't so fortunate. 

When the War began, both armies used Sibley tents, named after Confederate Brigadier General Henry H. Sibley.  The design was based on Native American tepees.  A Sibley tent was a round cone that was eighteen feet in diameter and twelve feet high.  It was supported by a center pole and was designed to sleep twelve men comfortably aligned around the center pole.  However, when supplies were short, they sometimes housed up to twenty a night.  During the summer months, bathing was a luxury for an army in the field so conditions often were intolerable inside a Sibley and many men chose to sleep under the stars when the weather was permitting.

Different sizes of wedge tents or A-frames

As the War dragged on, the large Sibley tent was replaced by smaller tents often called wedge tents or A-frames.  The official size of a wedge tent given by the Quartermaster Department of the U.S. Army was 6'10" long, 8'4" wide and 6'10" tall.  These tents would generally sleep four men.

The reproduction tents used today are somewhat larger, most of them being nine feet long by nine feet wide and seven feet high.  However, they come in several different sizes.

What most soldiers would have used while the army was marching is the shelter tent or dog tent as they came to be called because they didn't require wagon trains for transportation since they didn't use ridgepoles.  A shelter tent consists of two canvas shelter halves (each man would carry one half in a knapsack) that buttoned together and were held up often with freshly cut saplings and rope. They were barely five foot square and only provided enough room to crawl in and lay under and would sleep two men. There was no front or rear flap and on cold nights, soldiers would often throw blankets over the openings.

Those were the regular accommodations for the enlisted men in the Union Army.  Those in the Confederate army weren't as fortunate and due to the lack of supplies, often slept out in the elements with nothing more than a wool blanket.

There were larger tents for officers, known as a wall tents and the largest wall tents often served as hospitals.

Matthew Pizzolato's short stories have been published online and in print. He writes Western fiction that can be found in his story collection, The Wanted Man and the novella Outlaw as well as his newest release, Two of a Kind.

Matthew is the editor and webmaster ofThe Western Online, a magazine dedicated to everything Western and can be contacted via his personal websiteor on Twitter @mattpizzolato.

Western Comics Focus: Howard Chaykin

Troy D. Smith

Our focus this month is on the legendary writer and artist Howard Chaykin. Since the 1970s, Chaykin has worked on a number of sci-fi, fantasy, horror, and adventure titles, including the iconic American Flagg! and Black Kiss. He is also the creator of Dominic Fortune, a Depression-era adventurer (and personal favorite.) Like many kids of the '70s, I was first introduced to his work in the first ten issues of Star Wars in 1977-78. In fact, I read his comics adaptation of the movie before I saw (or had even heard much about) the film.

In 2010 Chaykin illustrated Rawhide Kid: The Sensational Seven, scripted by Ron Zimmerman.

His newest work, due out Oct. 1, is very intriguing: a graphic novel titled Century West. Here's the official description:

"Century, Texas used to be a sleepy little burg, barely a whistlestop between nowhere and the great beyond...until the 20th Century arrived with a bang, bringing with it automobiles, aeroplanes, telephones, paved streets...and, of course, the movies. Howard Chaykin tells the colorful story of the American West, transformed from frontier to legend, and how the American dream became a modern myth."

Howard Chaykin has generously agreed to answer some of our questions today.

 

  1.  Can you tell us about your background with the western genre? Were you engaged by it growing up? Have you worked in it before in comics?

 

I was born in 1950—making me a part of the “HOPPY, GENE & ME” generation.  I was a fanatical fan of Bill Boyd’s HOPALONG CASSIDY stuff, the GENE AUTRY and ROY ROGERS shows were must see TV, and I can still see I. Stanford Jolley as Butch Cavendish, throwing papier mache boulders at Clayton Moore and a bunch of Gower Gulch riders.

 

The western movie, and the TV series that jammed the fifties and early sixties were my first love—excluding Howdy Doody, who, come to think of it, was a cowboy, too.

 

I briefly ghosted a western for Wallace Wood back in the early sixties, and that’s about it.

 

 

 

2. What kind of transitions were going on in the West, and the country in general, at the turn of the 20^th century?

 

 As I’ve indicated before, I’ve come to believe that what we call the modern world started far earlier than we can imagine, and that many of the defining elements of the rest of the 20^th century were well in place in the first decades.

 

The town of CENTURY seemed to  me like the perfect setting to play out the idea of the frontier being paved, as the west is transformed by the advent of modernity.

 

 

       3.  Do you think your three protagonists are typical Western genre lawmen?

 

By what standards would you call anyone typical?  We’re talking about a Canadian émigré, a New Orleans whorehouse piano player and fancy man, and a New York City police detective.  You figure it out.

 

 

 

4. This work first appeared several years ago in Italian and Spanish, and is only now being published in English for the first time –how did that happen?

 

 The original publisher got cold feet about the graphic novel form, and decided not to pursue any further foreign language rights.  Those rights reverted back to us, and IMAGE felt like the perfect publisher for a story I hold near and dear to my heart.

 

5. If you could choose one western character, in any medium (or in history), that you’d like to work with, who might it be?

 

 At first, I thought this was a silly question, too broad to consider… until I considered, and realized that it would be PALADIN, MAVERICK, or SUGARFOOT.

 

6. Which of your many works are you proudest of?

 

That would put a halo on some stuff, and undersell others.  Better you should ask me what I’m ashamed of—and I’ve learned to keep that a secret too, because stuff I hate others might revere—and I don’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings—unless they’re dead, and then all bets are off.

 

 

Many thanks to Mr. Chaykin for devoting some time to us today. I urge everyone reading to go out and order Century West- I know I am.

 

Here is the AMAZON LINK

 

 

 

 

 

 

Review Roundup: Gold, Guns, and Guts

Gun for Hire
By Jory Sherman
Western Fictioneers Library, May 2013
$2.99 Kindle, ASIN B00CMX2TXO
$2.99 most other e-formats, ISBN 9781301456895
115 pages

One more job will give drifter Clay Brand the stake he needs to settle down with the girl he’s loved since childhood. Protecting a fortune in gold dust won’t be easy, but he’s accepted tougher employment. He expects trouble — a smart man always expects trouble — but the depth of deceit and betrayal in a California mining town adds a whole new dimension to the concept of treachery.

From the beginning of Gun for Hire, tension oozes from every page. The action is fast and relentless. Gunfights, a blizzard, an avalanche, murders, robbery, conniving women, and double-dealing from associates and enemies alike put Brand in an ever-more-precarious situation. Not even keeping a close eye and a loaded gun on the devils he knows can protect all the angels in harm’s way. Worse, Brand’s neck may end up in a noose if he doesn’t figure out who’s masterminding the villainy.

Originally published in paperback in 1975 (Major Books, ISBN 089041212X), Gun for Hire was Jory Sherman’s first western novel (though not his first published work). The book might not have been written at all except for an accidental encounter with an orphaned cover. When the original contract writer couldn’t meet his manuscript obligation, Sherman was asked to back up an off-the-cuff comment that the cover was so compelling he could write a story based on the image alone.

The words proved no idle boast. According to Sherman’s introduction to the digital edition, he completed the manuscript in one and one-half weeks of seclusion. The man is a natural storyteller. He’s also a natural teacher: Gun for Hire demonstrates many of the concepts Sherman illuminates in his iconic craft manuals. Plain, straightforward language delivers an elegant package balancing plot, characterization, and setting with emotional wallop.

Read the book for fun and adventure — there’s plenty of both. If you’re a writer, read it again with an eye for how Sherman employs the tools of the storyteller’s trade. Foreshadowing, symbolism, cadence, misdirection … in this author’s almost-invisible hands, they’re subtle but powerful.


Kathleen Rice Adams is a Texan, a voracious reader, a professional journalist, and a novelist in training. She received a review copy of Gun for Hire from the publisher. Her opinions are her own and are neither endorsed nor necessarily supported by Western Fictioneers or individual members of the organization. Links in the review are for convenience only; they do not produce affiliate revenue.

THEM'S FIGHTING WORDS! (PART 2) by J.E.S. HAYS

Back in the day, a man usually tried to avoid a fight. Remember that easy access to firearms we discussed in a previous column. However, humans being human, arguments occurred. Here are some of the terms you’d have heard in such a situation. This is part 2 of "Them's Fighting Words!" For more fighting words (A-L) look in the archives, July 31, 2013.

Milling: fighting, as in milling about aimlessly in a crowd, punching whoever is closest

On the prod, on the shoot: spoiling for a fight

Peck of trouble: a peck is a unit of measure, a quarter-bushel

Pucker: in a state of irritation or anger; the image is of a puckered brow or frown

Pull in your horns: quit looking for trouble; an irritated cow thrashes about with its horns

Raise his bristles: to incite his anger; an angry animal raises its hairs and puffs itself up to appear larger

Raise sand, raising Cain: to cause trouble; Cain is the Biblical brother of Abel, the first murderer

Rantankerous: a humorous variation of cantankerous; contentious or stubborn

Ringy: ornery or angry man or animal; origin unclear

Rip out: impatiently give vent to one's feelings or opinions, as in letting emotions rip from one’s body

Roily or rily: vexed; roil means to stir up sediment and make turbid

Row up: to rebuke, punish with words; a row is a disturbance

Savagerous: furious; another Latinate term used to sound more educated

Scoff off, scuff away: to drive away or impel, as in by scoff or scorn

Score off: to get the better of one, especially in a verbal debate; the image is of scoring points in a game

Scrap: to fight or box; possibly a variation of “scrape” meaning an abrasive encounter

Scratch, to come to the scratch: to begin a fight; could either be from the literal definition of scratch, or from the fact that roosters scratch the dirt before attacking, to sharpen their claws

Set about: to chastise, beat, thrash; origins unclear

Set-to: argument, debate, contest in words; originally boxing slang from the definition of “set” as in beginning a task or arrangement

Settle his hash: to properly punish him; hash is a dish of minced meat

Sharp stick, after him with a sharp stick: determined to have satisfaction or revenge

THE LOVE OF WESTERN MOVIES BY STEVEN LAW

(PHOTO CREDIT TO RON MCGINNIS PHOTOGRAPHY)
A couple years ago I started a group page on Facebook called “Western Movie Fans.” It has become a pretty big hit, garnering over 2,100 members, with people all over the world sharing photos and thoughts about their favorite, or least favorite, Western movies or actors. Of course there are a variety of tastes, but it is great to see this coming-together of Western movie fans.

We all tend to gravitate towards those movies that influenced us in our youth. The baby boomers seem to gravitate towards the earlier John Wayne/John Ford classics, like The Searchers, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, or She Wore a Yellow Ribbon. Being from a later generation, I gravitate more toward the ‘60s and‘70s John Wayne films, like True Grit, The Cowboys, or The Shootist. But my favorite Western movie is about that Missouri Bushwhacker, The Outlaw Josey Wales, based on the novel Gone to Texas by Forrest Carter.

The Clint Eastwood Westerns were part a new generation of fans, and during a time period of the ‘60s and‘70s when the Golden Age of the Western was starting to pass away. But Clint helped keep it alive for a while, and The Outlaw Josey Wales, to me, had every good quality a Western film should have.

A friend of mine, Todd Allen, who has acted in several Western films, likes to say, “It’s all about the story.” The Outlaw Josey Wales certainly is a great story, full of hardship and conflict, colorful characters with steadfast purpose, and a plot that is driven by a hero that plays them all well. But to me a movie is more than a story. A movie also has to be visually stimulating, and when dialogue is present, it has to be original and compelling.

The Story

In The Outlaw Josey Wales, the story and the dialogue come mostly from Forrest Carter. If you’ve read the novel, you will know this. It’s the quintessential Western story. The Civil War is over, and westward expansion is paramount. The war honed men for battle and conflict, and it bred the stamina needed to tame the frontier and fight for justice. We have a man, Josey Wales, who is minding his own business, plowing his Missouri field, when a group of Kansas Redlegs ride in, murder his wife and child, and pillage and loot his property. There is no reason for living if you can’t get revenge. There’s no surrendering to anyone who can do such a thing to your family. So it becomes a quest to fight them off, as guerilla fighters, but they can’t win. So in end, it’s just beginning for Josey Wales, as he tries to outrun and outwit the men who are chasing him, the very ones who destroyed his life.

The Characters

Besides Josey Wales, we have the kid, Jaime, who is passionate about their cause, but who is also symbolic of the tragedy of war. There’s Fletcher, the hard but reasonable man who was once on their side, but has worked out a deal with the Union to bring them in. Terrill, the vicious, corrupt Redleg who will stop at nothing to hunt Josey down. Lone Watie, the Cherokee sidekick, who is as much of a burden to the journey as he is helpful. Grannie Hawkins, the salt of the earth, pipe-smoking hillbillie, and wise beyond her years. The carpetbagger in an all white suit, loyal only to himself, a representative of the times. The “pilgrims from Kansas,” an outspoken elderly woman and her “odd” granddaughter, bound for New Mexico to a promised paradise. And last but not least, the notorious Ten Bears, the Comanche Chief, who finds himself in a peculiar, if not ironic, situation with Josey Wales, as they are both victims of dishonesty and greed.

The Dialogue

Though none of us have lived in the 1860s, or knew anyone who did, we really don’t know how they talked to one another, but we can surely imagine through diaries and journals of those times somewhat what it was like. I believe Carter captured it wonderfully in the novel, and Clint Eastwood, who also directed the film, incorporated it perfectly onto the screen.

Some examples are:

Senator: Fletcher, there's an old saying, to the victors belong the spoils.

Fletcher: There's another old saying Senator. Don't piss down my back and tell me it's raining.

~
Jamie: You can't get 'em all, Josie.

Josey Wales: That's a fact.

Jamie: How come you're doing this, then?

Josey Wales: Because I ain't got nothin' better to do.

~

Granny Hawkins: They say you're a hard put and desperate man, Josey Wales. They're goin' to heel and hide you to a barn door. You know what I say?

Josey Wales: What's that?

Granny Hawkins: I say that big talk's worth doodly-squat. Now, them poultices be laced with feathermoss and mustard root. Mind you drop water on 'em occasional and keep 'em damp.
~

Jamie: [after Jamie and Josie kill Abe and Lige] I figured you could use some help.

Josey Wales: You get those holes a-leakin', I'm gonna whomp you with a knotted plow line.

~

Jamie: I wish we had time to bury them fellas.

Josey Wales: To hell with them fellas. Buzzards gotta eat, same as worms.

~

Josey Wales: When I get to likin' someone, they ain't around long.

Lone Watie: I notice when you get to DISlikin' someone they ain't around for long neither.

~

Lone Watie: I didn't surrender, but they took my horse and made him surrender. They have him pulling a wagon up in Kansas I bet.

~

Josey Wales: Are you gonna pull those pistols or whistle Dixie?

There’s plenty more, strong, rich dialogue, but that is a good taste. The only movie since The Outlaw Josey Wales, ever to produce such well-known, repeated dialogue, is the ‘90s film Tombstone. Though no one will ever forget the originality of “I’m your huckleberry,” neither will they forget, “Well, Mr. Carpetbagger. We got somethin' in this territory called the Missouri boat ride.”

The Visuals

Movies are a visual art, and the trick is to take a story and adapt it in a way that the film watcher can’t take their eyes off the screen. The auditory part—the dialogue, background sound, sound effects, music (which in this film, an original score was nominated for an Academy Award)—take on a similar role of attraction, but what stimulates the eyes is truly what makes a good story a great film. The Outlaw Josey Wales gave us all of the elements of period culture during the post Civil War era. The costume was authentic, as were the weaponry. The cap and ball pistols, as many as they could stuff in their waistbands, loaded and ready. The “lindsey, woolsey, shirt” with all the fancy stitching, also known as the “guerilla shirt,” was treated authentically. Close attention was paid to the landscape, and the scenery, which was captivating as much as it was authentic.

Not many will argue about the quality of this film, though many will disagree as to what their favorite is, and there’s nothing wrong with that. I gauge the quality of a film on whether or not I want to watch it again. The Outlaw Josey Wales stands as my most-watched Western, and there’s not been one since that has risen above all that this film has to offer. Due to the sparse releases of Western films today, and Hollywood’s addiction to remakes, there’s not much competition for its place, either. But just like those John Wayne/John Ford loyalists, I’m fond to my era as well, and it will take an incredible film to rise above my expectations. Yep, I reckon so.

Steven Law is the author of Yuma Gold (Berkley, November 2011) and El Paso Way (Berkley, October 2013). Visit his website at www.stevenlaw.com.

TWISTS AND SHOUTS: Embracing the Unexpected by Marc Cameron

Me and Modestine north of Helena, Montana

So, about a month ago, while I was sliding behind my motorcycle down the gravel shoulder of a remote stretch of the Alaska Highway, I thought to myself:

I didn’t see this coming. 

I’d spent the previous weeks fretting over things like weather, gear lists, bike maintenance and plotting the next Jericho Quinn novel. Frankly, I’d been obsessing over a particular five-span, open-grate metal bridge that lay about two days into the Yukon Territory. There was no way around it. I knew it would likely be raining this time of year, and with the knobby tires on my motorcycle, I expected crossing the wet metal to be a dangerous endeavor, especially if there happened to be an oncoming truck sharing the bridge. My imagination ran amok and I invented all sorts of scenarios that all ended with me looking something like a squashed bug run through a cheese grater.

Turns out, the suspense I’d let build up in my mind was exponentially greater than the crossing itself. That spooky ol' bridge was nothing but a wiggly-tired bit of road that was a piece of cake to cross—even wet and with an oncoming truck. 

Little did I know…but about twenty minutes down the road, a motorhome would pull out in front of me and force me to choose between a Wiley Coyote face plant or the ditch.

Not to get too maudlin, but riding a motorcycle puts you a smidge closer to violent death every time you climb aboard. Just like law enforcement or marriage, that measured air of danger adds to the experience.

I chewed on this quite a bit over the next 2,600 miles as I headed south on Modestine, my wounded (and now held partially together with Gorilla Tape) motorcycle—and about the comparisons to writing.

Each time I pick up a book, I expect it take me on a journey. I don’t want it to be “normal life”—I want to escape. I write Thrillers now, but I wanted my Westerns to be the same. The books I like to read, and strive to write, put a knot in my stomach that grows with each passing page. I like a clear threat or deadline looming in front of the protagonist—something to worry about. But I love a delicious plot twist that sneaks up on me like a wrecking ball out of nowhere—especially one where I smack my head and say: man, I should have seen that coming.

One of the things I loved about my career with the US Marshals were all the unexpected moments. I got a call from my supervisor one day to go home and pack for an emergency trip to LA. They needed extra deputies to help with a high threat gang trial. I’d only been to LA once, during the Rodney King riots, and I was excited to go again and work this trial. By the time I made it back to the office, a government witness in case in Hattiesburg had been shot in the face so I was sent that direction instead, to Purvis, Mississippi where I spent the better part of two weeks in the Lamar County Jail, locked in with the three witnesses I was assigned to guard/protect. Not what I had planned, but those days in jail were a fascinating time, with all sorts of research opportunities for a would-be novelist. 

US Marshals Service HQ lobby-- Virginia

While I was stationed with the Marshals in East Texas, my partner and I once had a fugitive warrant for an outlaw biker dude wanted for… I really can’t remember what. I do remember he was supposed to be armed and extremely dangerous. We expected violence, maybe even a gunfight. But along the way, we found that the fugitive had a stripper girlfriend who folks said developed a blotchy rash and spitting lisp when she got angry or nervous—which she would certainly do when we questioned her about her wanted boyfriend. I’d seen plenty of blotchy rashes during interviews, but the whole spittin’-lisp thing intrigued me. 

She wasn’t something we’d expected, but frankly, we started looking for her harder than we looked for him, because she seemed more interesting. I remember thinking that I was living smack in the middle of an Elmore Leonard novel. The exotic dancer covered in stripper dust with a spittin’ lisp eventually made it into one of my stories. The plain vanilla bad-guy, though plenty dangerous, I have mostly forgotten.

I knew moving two horses from Texas to Idaho with my nine-year-old son would be a grand time. And one of the horses was…a little less than completely trained, so that added to my worry. The horses turned out to be the least of our problems when a freak snowstorm hit Homestake pass outside of Bozeman. The sky had been bluebird-clear just an hour before but now we had eight inches of snow on the highway and I was pulling a load of horses with an underpowered pickup. Several times, I was dead certain that we would loose traction completely and slide backward over the edge. I was scared enough that Ben saw it, which, I’m sure didn’t add to his sense of wellbeing.

In the end, that trip provided my son and me with incredible memories—camping with the horses, swimming in cold mountain streams— He’s pushing thirty now, with two boys of his own. When the trip comes up in conversation, what he seems to remember most, is how they closed the highway and stranded us together in Bozeman for two days, the great adventure of our unscheduled stop and the extra father-son time to talk about life and such.

I never saw that storm coming either, but I’m sure glad it did.

Marc Cameron is a retired Chief Deputy US Marshal and 29-year law enforcement veteran. His short stories have appeared in BOYS’ LIFE Magazine and the Saturday Evening Post. He has published ten novels, six of them Westerns (several as a ghost writer and two under his pen name, Mark Henry).  His present Jericho Quinn series—NATIONAL SECURITY, ACT OF TERROR, STATE OF EMERGENCY and TIME OF ATTACK (February 2014 Kensington) features an adventure motorcyclist, Air Force OSI agent and renaissance man who spends his days sorting out his life and kicking terrorist butt.  Marc lives in Alaska with his beautiful bride and BMW motorcycle.

Visit him at:

www.marccameronbooks.com

http://www.facebook.com/MarcCameronAuthor

Jaded Maidens, Jail Break, & the Razor-Strop-Man by @JacquieRogers #Western

September in the Old West

by Jacquie Rogers

Even though not yet well-established in 1867, Silver City was still the largest city in Idaho Territory.  (Note: Silver has never been incorporated, even though it was the county seat of Owyhee County from 1867 to 1934.)  The Owyhee Avalanche reported mostly mining news, most of which is not all that interesting unless you’re a miner.  But little tidbits here and there give us an idea what it was like to live in an Old West boomtown.

Ever tried to follow an old recipe (often called a “receipt”)?  Most are vague at best and nearly impossible for someone today who cooks by measurement to use.  This recipe, though, found in the September 28, 1867 issue, I’m sure anyone can make:

THE FOLLOWING is said to be a private recipe of a Washoe editor: “Take one pint of whisky, stir it well with one spoonful of whisky, then take another pint of whisky, beat carefully with a spoon, and keep pouring in whisky. Fill a large bowl with water and make a servant set it out of your reach. Take a small tumbler, pour in two spoonfuls of water; pour it out, fill up with whisky and add to the above. Flavor with whiskey to suit your taste. Dose—three ‘fingers’ every half-hour.”

Likely as not, that recipe turns out right every time.  While imbibing in the aforesaid recipe, a fellow might as well get in a little reading.  He’d be in luck, because Silver would soon have a new store, as reported in the September 28, 1867 issue:

J.  H. MISENER, of the firm Misener & Lamkin, Boise City, has sold his interest in the Post Office and book store to Major A.  G.  Brown.  Mr. Lamkin visited our locality this week while on his way to San Francisco, by the Railroad line.  He will return in a short time with the largest stock of books and stationery ever brought into Idaho Territory.

Peddlers and drummers of every ilk descended upon boomtowns.  The busy, dusty streets, filled with horses, teams of oxen, and pedestrians could be a tough place to sell his wares.  Just as in today’s publishing market, so must a peddler call attention to himself and his product.  The September 28, 1867, issue reports on one such enterprising fellow.

A DROLL SORT of character is holding forth in Silver now—he calls himself—Giles, the razor-strop-man.  He has for sale a species of composition, which he said is composed of tailings from a quartz mill—at any rate, what ever it be, it is an excellent thing for sharpening knives, razors &c., in fact it operates like a charm, causing the dullest knife to cut a hair in a very short period of time.  He may be seen mounted on a dry goods box, with a flambeau on the street corners during an evening, telling all kinds of funny stories and singing funny songs, stopping at intervals to serve customers with his sharpening compound at fifty cents per package.

In the same issue, we’re reminded that most of the population was male, and sales pitches for household goods were aimed at them rather than the ladies.  This changed in the next dozen years, when more women came to live “inside.” 

NOTICE BRIGHAM & WEEKS news advertisement.  They keep on hand plenty of hard-ware, cheap enough to suit hard times, for hard cash or greenbacks.  Also, they have a large stock and made to order tin ware of every description—so that every old or young bachelor, if he can not get a wife to “cook his goose,” can at least go to Brigham & Weeks and buy a cook stove well furnished on which to cook his slap-jacks &c.  Give the boys a call—on Jordan Street, opposite of the Silver City Stable.

Travel had always been arduous, but after the Civil War, many miles of railroad track was laid, to the delight of Westerners.  The railroad never made it to Silver City, but regular stagecoach service made an early appearance, and by 1868 was well-established, running on a regular schedule.  When the railroad reached Winnemucca, business with San Francisco and Denver became much more profitable, and Silver City citizens could purchase goods not available in many towns.  This is from the September 19, 1868 issue:

THE RAILROAD is now completed to Winnemucca and stages connect with the cars at that place.  Only forty hours staging from here to Winnemucca and now that the Vallejo Railroad is in operation the time from here to San Francisco is made inside of three days.

No one likes a horse thief, then or now, but especially then.  My guess is that this hard case never saw the inside of a jail cell again—or anywhere else—once they caught him, and they’d have done their best.  Jurisdictions and state or territory borders didn’t mean much when the law was hot on the trail.  I read a one-liner in a later issue that reported they’d “found” a dead horse thief, but I don’t know if that’s this man or not.  Reported in the September 14, 1867 newspaper:

BROKE JAIL.  The horse thief, of whom we made mention last week took “French leave” of the jail last Saturday night.  He somehow got out of his cell, and either by his own handicraft, or by help “from the outside,” he managed to unlock the main entrance door.  He was heavily ironed, but ere this has probably had them removed.  Sheriff Springer, and assistants have been searching for him for several days, but as yet without success.

Every man has to eat.  Several articles in every edition address food in some way, whether how to cook it, where to buy it, or where to hunt it.  And of course they liked a little flavor, just as we do now.  L.J. Martin would’ve been the most popular man in camp.  I’m not sure who “Red” was, but this was printed in the September 14, 1867 issue of The Owyhee Avalanche:

ONIONS EXTRAORDINARY.  “Red” received a load of onions last week from the ranch of McComt & Cowghays, in Boise Valley, six miles below the city.  We were shown a specimen of them which measured twenty one inches in circumference and weighed a trifle over two and a half pounds.

The weather, if not out of the ordinary, always gave the editor some fodder for filler, as well as a forum for his purple prose.  In the same issue, he sharpened his pen and wrote:

WE HAVE NEGLECTED the weather item for the last three weeks, during which time it has been exceeding fine—cleared and gradually becoming cooler, and now we have real, unadulterated Indian Summer, its hazy atmosphere dimming the brightness of the sun, and causing the moon to shed of a milder light upon the earth.

When you have several mining camps full of young men with libidos, enterprising women could always make them happy for a dollar or two, which the men were enthusiastic to pay.  And did.  Flint was a town a few rugged miles from Silver City.  Thus, as reported on September 26, 1868:

A QUARTETTE TROUPE of Teutonic damsels, with lager beer and accordion accompaniment, paid Flint a visit last week.  The boys “danced all night till broad daylight,” and oh how hard it was to part with the girls in the morning.  After several nights of “Sally come up and Sally come down, Sally come twist your heel around,” the jaded Maidens were obliged to come back to Silver, where they will recruit exhausted nature, repair their soles and await another pay day in Flint. 

September Events

• September 5, 1836:  The citizens of the Republic of Texas elected SamHouston as their president. 
• September 13, 1847:  Battle of Chapultepec.  Troops under the command of General Winfield Scott won the defining battle of the Mexican-American War, capturing the ancient Chapultepec fortress at the edge of Mexico City. 
• September 1, 1858: In the Battle of Four Lakes, Col. George Wright defeated the Spokane Indians using the new long-range Springfield Model 1855 Rifle-Musket. 
• September 11, 1858: Mountain Meadows Massacre.  Paiutes, at the instigation of Cedar City mayor and Mormon stake president Isaac Haight (contrary to LDS President Brigham Young’s orders) attacked a California-bound wagon train, killing all (120) except for 17 children, who were adopted by local families, and later returned to relatives in Arkansas. 
• September 15, 1858: The Butterfield Overland Mail Company sent out its first two stages, beginning service from St. Louis to San Francisco.  
• September 30, 1850: Elias D. Pierce and Wilbur F. Bassett discovered on the discovered gold at Orofino Creek in Idaho Territory. 
• September 27, 1867: Wild Bill the Indian-Slayer is published—the first fictional depiction of Wild Bill Hickock. 
• September 1, 1870: Martha Jane Canary, “Calamity Jane,” claims to have secretly married James Butler “Wild Bill” Hickok. 
• September 10, 1875: North West Mounted Police Inspector Ephrem Brisebois and his troop arrive at the confluence of the Bow and Elbow Rivers and start building Fort Calgary. 
• September 2, 1875: Six felons were hanged, sentenced by Judge Isaac Parker, at Fort Smith, Indian Territory.  Eight outlaws were sentenced to die, one’s sentence was commuted, and one was shot and killed when he attempted to escape. 
• September 7, 1876: The James and Youngers attempted to rob a bank in Northfield, Minnesota.  Frank and Jesse James escaped but the Youngers were captured and their fellow accomplices killed.  Three citizens were also killed. 
• September 18, 1877: Sam Bass, Joel Collins, and gang rob a Union Pacific train near Big Springs, Nebraska, getting away with $60,000 in gold coins plus other valuables. 
• Sept 18, 1879: Battle of Las Animas Canyon.  Chiricahua Apache chief Victorio, using clever tactics, led his followers to victory over a militia and two companies of the 9^th Cavalry. 
• September 3, 1880: Jesse James and William Ryan held up a stagecoach traveling between Mammoth Cave and Cave City, Kentucky. One of the items stolen was Judge Rowntree’s watch, which was found in James’ house after his death. 
• September 2, 1885: 28 Chinese coal miners were killed and 15 injured in the Rock Springsmassacre, caused by both racial prejudice and labor issues. 
• September 2, 1887: Andy Blevins led cattlemen on a night attack on the Tewksbury sheep camp, killing John Tewksbury and Bill Jacobs.  The Graham-Tewksbury feud had been going on for several years, called the Pleasant Valley War. 
• September 3, 1887: Mary Killeen Leslie divorced Buckskin Frank Leslie, on the grounds of physical abuse and unfaithfulness. She claimed that his sexual foreplay consisted of standing her against the wall and tracing her outline by firing his .45 around her. 
• September 16, 1893: In current day Oklahoma, over 100,000 people hoped to claim land in the Cherokee Strip Land Run.
• September 8, 1900: Hurricane in Galveston, Texas, kills over 6,000 people there, and possibly 12,000 in all. 
• September 19, 1900: Members of the Wild Bunch steal $2,000 (some say $32,000) from the First National Bank in Winnemucca, Nevada.  Butch Cassidy may not have been involved, however. 

May your saddle never slip.

Coming November 1:

Sleight of Heart

by Jacquie Rogers

1883 Colorado:

A gambler, a prude, and a treasure

NIK MORTON'S "WRITE A WESTERN IN 30 DAYS" BY JEREMY L.C. JONES

I wish Nik Morton had published Write a Western in 30 Days with Plenty of Bullet-Points (Compass Books, 2013) 20 years ago.

In the fall of 1993, I was barely 23, newly married and living with Trina in Evanston, IL. Three months out of college I had a job in special education, for which I hadn’t been trained, and I had an idea for a Western novel.

One evening, while I sat in our dining room in Meemaw’s wingback chair, a liquid image—a half-played scene—danced up out of the yellow glare of the recently polished wood floor:

It’s night time in Kansas, and young Seamus runs downhill, terror streaking his face in tears. He’s backlit by the angry orange bonfire that his family’s barn has become, his bald scalp slick with sweat, his trouser cuffs flap-snap above his muddy brogans, one suspender droops off his shoulder, arms pumping, his loose shirt sooty and damp with fear-sweat…

I knew Seamus' family had been killed. I knew his mother had been a freed slave and his father an Irish immigrant. I could hear his sisters screaming through the final moments of their lives in the family’s house just out of Seamus’ reach. I knew Seamus would seek out Sissy and Lila’s killers and take violent revenge and that his acts of retaliation would be brutal and splashed with gore and that he would suffer deeply as a result of those actions.

But I didn’t know how to write a Western. I’d read hundreds, sure, but that’s not exactly the same. Besides, the part of me that stood at the foot of a hill clutching my degree in American lit and creative writing and staring up at a young man racing away from a burning barn, racing toward his dying sisters, careening toward violent retaliation—that part of me was, frankly, far too proud of, far too pleased with the pretty picture I’d just conjured up to really take the time to figure out how to write a Western.

Proud, and also a bit overwhelmed. For all the things I did know about Seamus, there were so many things I didn’t know.

I knew virtually nothing about Kansas. (I’ve since visited.) Nor did I know the year the story took place or the guns or horses or clothing or... As a result, I froze the moment I sat down at my IBM desktop to type up the story. There were far too many unknowns—far too many obstacles--and not the exciting kind, not the mysteries around the corner or over the horizon, not the character-building sort of challenges, but the details and facts that can be the bones of historical fiction and the bane of my brand of fuzzy headed thinking.

Ah, yes, so I’ll say it once again, “If only Nik Morton had written 30 Days 20 years sooner.”

Alright, enough about me and Seamus. Let’s take a look-see at Write a Western in 30 Days.

The first thing Morton does is clear away the obstacles by presenting just enough to silence the editor and make room for the muse, while the researcher runs out to grab a double-shot Americano and hit the library.

Morton’s introduction pistol-whips topics such as why write a western, the relevance of the western, the importance of avoiding clichés, the origin of the novel form, and whether a novel can be written in 30 days and what exactly constitutes a “day”.

Hint: a “day” is eight hours of work time, whether continuous or broken up. Feel cheated? Well, would you have bought a book entitled Write a Western in 240 Hours?

Actually, I would’ve bought the book with that title.

Moving on.

Where was I?

Oh, so here’s the beauty of Morton’s pistol-whip chapters. He has a brilliant way of condensing a great deal of information into manageable junks without sacrificing clarity or content. The resulting book works both as master course and as a refresher course.

With chapters two through six, Morton slaps a nice sturdy broom in your hand and puts you to work—preparation, research, theme, point of view, and titles. You can sweep fast and kick up a lot of dust or go slowly and run the risk of just moving the dirt around. What I mean by that is that this is not a book rife with navel-gazing. Morton isn’t selling snake oil or tincture of opium for Mr. and Mrs. Maybe I. Will and Maybe I. Won’t. This is work. Fun, but work—a nearly 200 page memo from the boss. Read it and get to work. You can always re-read it later.

And in case you didn’t catch the title, we’ve got a schedule to keep.

Chapter seven is, I suspect, the heart of the book for most readers. Morton, by this point, has referred to the “plot plan” enough that when you finally hit page 72 you feel as though you’ve finally arrived at, if not your destination, at least one heck of a fun way station.

“Writing a novel is much easier if you have a plot to follow,” writes Morton. “It doesn’t mean you’re in a rut. The plot is a rough-and-ready road. As the story progresses, you’ll find that characters will want to take the occasional more interesting byway. Some writers let the characters wander off at a tangent and never rejoin the original plotted road; others are hard taskmasters and bring the character back in line after a fascinating diversion.”

Uh-huh.

“A story is often about a character’s growth or change through adversity, which is brought about by facing obstacles and overcoming them,” he adds on the next page. “Though sometimes unwelcome, change is inevitable in life; in fiction, change is vitally necessary. The plot provides the means for the character to evolve.”

The plot plan, like life itself, is a “working document” and change is inevitable.

The whole chapter is like that—one beautifully rich paragraph after another.

I do think Morton is crazy not to package this chapter and appendix A: “30-day Countdown” as an e-book single. He’d make a fortune.

After the plot plan, Morton becomes more craft focused—character, dialogue, and description. He looks at form—beginning and endings—and revision—self-editing and layering—and finally offers up some very practical advice on publishers, synopsis, blurbs, and marketing. Theses final chapters on the business were certainly good and definitely up to the high standards set by the first, but I found them—personally—less interesting. Professionally, they are spot on and invaluable.

With the exception of Appendix A, which I mentioned above, the Appendices leaned toward the very practical and, frankly, I’d rather re-read his section on the Code of the West or browse his list of western fiction or western series fiction than read about manuscript formatting or agents.

Part of the reason why I think my 23 year old version of myself would’ve loved this book even more than the 43 year old version does is that by about the third chapter, Morton makes it clear that he has thought of everything. I mean, he hammer-slaps the sub-headings and makes every shot count—from animals to weaponry—and illustrates his points with examples from his own novels.

If Nik Morton taught a course based on this book I’d be the first to enroll and I’d sit up close. But he lives across the Atlantic and that’s a long way away from South Carolina. Fortunately, I have Write a Western in 30 Days, and there’s always Facebook.

One more thing, drawn from Morton’s “Code of the West.”

“If a person was in trouble, it was a man’s duty to help him—friend, stranger or enemy… And because of the great distance between neighbors and townships hospitality was generous…”

I, for one, can’t see any reason why this Code needs to be limited just to the West. I wonder what would happen if more and more writers read 30 Days and more and more readers read Westerns?