The Unknown West: African-American Marshals, Scouts, and

The Unknown West: African-American Marshals,
Scouts, and Cowboys.
The Unknown West: African-American Marshals, Cowboys, and
Scouts.
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are
endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life,
Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness…Declaration of Independence.
There was a time when equality for African-Americans was a mere
dream. Slavery was the mechanism used to build a nation and AfricanAmericans were the gears and levers that ran it. Signs such as ‘colored’
and ‘white only’ drew lines that were not to be crossed for fear of severe
punishment. Nevertheless, during this time there were men who dared
to stare fear in the face and be different, and help shape the American
West. They were passionate about their jobs, family, life, and most of
all they were accepted by their peers. Many of whom were white.
Bass Reeves, Bill Pickett‚ Bose Ikard‚ and Nat Love. These are all men
who helped form what we know today as the American West. So why
haven’t we heard their names spoken with the same reverence as say a
Wyatt Earp or a Lewis and Clark? Could it be that because of their race
they were overlooked, and relegated to a simple footnote?
This pamphlet is a meager attempt to chronicle some of those great
African-American men who helped tamed the Wild West. We say that
now is the time to be inspired by those who history has left behind.
Bose Ikard
Bose Ikard was born a slave in Summerville, Mississippi
in the year of 1847, and brought to the state of Texas
by his master’s family at the age of five (1852). Texas
is where Bose Ikard learned the skills that would serve
him so greatly in later years. Attaining his freedom
after the Civil War, Bose hired on with a cattleman by
the name of Oliver Loving, who combined his own
cattle herd with that of another rancher by the name
of Charles Goodnight.
Together they followed the route of the old Butterfield
Overland Stage to the Pecos River and then north
toward New Mexico. This new route came to be known as the Goodnight
Loving Trail.
On this first opening of a new trail, Oliver Loving had an AfricanAmerican cowboy by his side. Oliver Loving died the next year, and
Charles Goodnight, seeing a valuable cowhand hired Bose Ikard on. Bose
Ikard became Charles Goodnight's right hand man until 1869., and it has
been said that the two were inseparable. Goodnight's trust in the man
can be seen through the following statements.
"Surpassed any man I had in endurance and stamina. There was a
dignity, a cleanliness, and a reliability about him that was wonderful."
"..When we carried money I gave it to Bose, for a thief would never
think of robbing him-never think of looking in a Negro's bed for money."
Historical Note:
Bose Ikard was the real life inspiration for the character of Joshua
Deets in the Lonesome Dove miniseries.
Bose Ikard died in 1929.
Nat Love (Deadwood Dick)
Edward L. Wheeler wrote thirty-three Deadwood
Dick novels before his death in 1885. Even though
the dime novel was of a fictitious character there
were men who claimed to have been the Original
Deadwood Dick, and not the least of these was an
African-American by the name of Nat Love. Nat
Love, known also as "Red River Dick”, was born a
slave in a log cabin in Tennessee in 1854.
The man known as Nat Love left home at the age of
fifteen in the year of 1869 to find his calling. His
journeys took him to Texas where he was hired on as a cowboy after
surviving the test of Good Eye for a job‚ a horse known for bucking and
throwing men off the saddle. Nat Love learned quickly that cowboy work
pushed a man to the limits of his endurance. His home ranch was on the
Palo Duro River where he worked for three years until he left to work for
an outfit on the Gila River in Arizona. Nat Love achieved many things in
his life, he wrote an autobiography called, "The life and Adventures of
Nat Love: Better Known in the Cattle Country as "Deadwood Dick"-By
himself," but one of the more interesting stories might be of how he
came to be called Deadwood Dick.
Arriving in the town of Deadwood during the fourth of July
celebrations in 1877, Nat Love participated in the contest the town had
set up for the cowboys. Nat won every single event in the rodeo contest
that day in South Dakota. Upon winning this contest, the town was so
impressed that they awarded him the title of their town, "Deadwood
Dick.”
In the spring of 1877, Nat Love was back in Dodge City, Kansas. It is
there that Nat tried to steal a cannon from Fort Dodge. He lassoed the
cannon with his rope, and then in his own words, “put his spurs to his
horse.” As he was riding on his horse to escape, soldiers came out a short
time later and captured him, throwing him in jail. It was only with the
help of the famous gunfighter Bat Masterson that the soldiers let him go.
By the year of 1890, Nat Love, sensing that the end of the great cattle
days were ending, changed his profession and became a Pullman Porter
on the Denver and Rio Grande Railroad.
Nat Love died in 1921.
Bill Pickett (The Wonderful Colored Cowboy)
Bill Pickett has been called "the greatest sweat and dirt
cowhand that ever lived". He stood five foot six inches,
and weighed in at one hundred and forty-five pounds. He
was a Black Cherokee who it has been said invented
"bulldogging" or the art of "steer wrestling".
Bill Pickett, also known as Willie M. Pickett, was born in
1860 in the Jenks-Branch community, which is about
thirty miles northwest of Austin in Travis County.
He was one of thirteen children (Bill being the second
oldest), and he finished the fifth grade before dropping
out to help on his families farm. Bill Pickett studied the
ranchers he encountered, and was intrigued by the bulldogs that they
brought with them that they used to control stray cattle.
Bill wondered how dogs weighing up to sixty pounds could control
cattle that sometimes ranged over one thousand pounds by just biting
their lip. Bill also wondered if he could duplicate the feat. The technique
that the cowman employed was to use one dog (known as the heel dog)
that would run and nip at the heels of the animal. This heel dog would
draw attention away from a second dog, known as the catch dog. When
the animal would turn to fight the heel dog, the catch dog would take
this opportunity to secure a hold on the animal’s upper lip.
Soon Bill Pickett tried this technique out himself on a calf and was
successful.
Bill Pickett started to make a name for himself with his “bite’em
style,” and he would eventually come to the attention of another famous
family. The Millers ran the world renowned 101 Ranch, and hired him on
in 1907.
They were looking for talent for their “101 Ranch Wild West Show”,
and his amazing ability to subdue cattle with his teeth became the main
attraction.
Sometimes called the Dusky Demon or "the Wonderful Colored
Cowboy", Bill Pickett had to disguise his race until he became famous
since many rodeos did not allow black participants. He would dress as a
Mexican toreador, and aboard his horse, Spradley, silence the crowd
with his bravado.
One famous story has him down in Mexico where the 101 was doing a
show. The 101 show was touring and things were not going as planned.
One of the Miller brothers sent for Pickett to join the show. It is at this
time that five thousand pesos was bet against Bill that he could not
throw one of the Mexican bullfighters fighting steers, and hold him down
for five minutes.
The main sport in Mexico at that time was bullfighting (a sport very
different from bulldogging). Bullfighting was a revered sport that honored the great men that stood in the ring, and the bulls that they fought.
The Mexican people took it as a personal affront that Pickett believed
that he could stand in the bullring with one of their great fighting bulls,
and better yet hold onto one without dying. The stage was set for one of
the most lopsided contest in rodeo history.
Pickett entered the ring with no fear aboard his horse Spradley. After
his horse was gored, Pickett had to face the animal that was named
(Frijoli Chiquita) on his feet. Pickett grabbed on for dear life, and with
the incensed Mexican people throwing whatever they could get their
hands on, held on past the time allotted. After it became apparent that
the Mexican officials were not going to sound the bell, the men from the
101 Ranch rode in to help. It was only with the intervention of Mexican
troops sent in by President Porfirio Diaz that Bill Pickett and the 101
made it out safely.
Some of Bill Pickett’s accomplishments.
He was the only Negro in the five-hundred-member Cherokee Strip
Cowpunchers Association.
With his brothers he helped run the “Pickett Bros. Bronco Busters and
Rough Riders Association,” where they would bust broncos for money.
It was reported that Bill Pickett bulldogged an Elk at the El Paso Fair.
In his lifetime, Bill Pickett made two movies making him the first
Black cowboy movie star, and in 1972, he became the first AfricanAmerican inducted into the Rodeo Hall of Fame.
In March of 1932, Bill Pickett Pickett tripped, fell, and then was
kicked in the head after trying to rope a stallion on foot. He died April
2, 1932 in Ponca City at the age of 62.
Bass Reeves (The Black Marshal)
Bass Reeves was born in Lamar County‚ Texas in the year
of 1838 and was the slave of Colonel George Reeves.
Bass Reeves stood 6’2 and weighed in at 200 lbs.
Bass fled Texas for Indian Territory at a young age after
getting into a fight with his master‚ apparently hitting
him in a card game, an offense punishable by death.
It was there in Indian Territory that Bass Reeves fought
with Union Indians in the Territory during the Civil War‚
and where he learned the Indian tongue‚ mostly Creek. After the Civil
War, he worked as a scout and tracker for peace officers.
In the year of 1875, Judge Isaac Parker, needing men to serve as
Marshals, sought him out to ask if he would join the Marshal Service. It
is believed that Bass Reaves was one of the first commissioned African
American Marshal West of the Mississippi River if not the first.
During his time with the Marshal Service, he killed fourteen men in
the line of duty‚ and was a master of disguise. Later in his career, he was
stationed in Muskogee‚ and it is said that he arrested over 3000 men in
his career.
A story pertaining to Bass Reeves
A story about Bass Reeves that shows the dedication that Deputy
Marshals had was when Bass Reeves, disguised himself as a tramp and
walked 28 miles to the home of two outlaws. Although they were not
home at the time, Reeves convinced their mother that he could be
trusted and she invited him to spend the night. When the sons returned
that evening, they shared a room with the deputy who proceeded to
handcuff them while they slept. After breakfast the next morning, he
marched them back to his camp and transported them to Fort Smith.
Bass Reeves ended his thirty-five year career in Muskogee‚ and died
January 12‚ 1910.
The Story of Will Whiskey
By Sean Chandler
Imagine‚ the year is 1875‚ and you’ve just been hired on as a Deputy
Marshal for Indian Territory. Judge Isaac Parker himself walked up to
you‚ and asked you on the streets of Fort Smith if you wanted to serve
your country in one of the most dangerous places you could work.
You just smiled‚ knowing it was dangerous everyday for a black man in
this world.
He had taken you aside and explained what he wanted from you‚ and
why. You knew the Territory like the back of your hand‚ and he knew a
little of your background. He knew your family had come along with the
Indians when they had been forced here. It was one of the reasons he
told you he was hiring you. The Indians in the Territories might trust you
a little more because of your skin color.
You had to laugh at that. The color of your skin was a benefit!
You had heard of other colored Americans he had signed up. The
strength of their convictions‚ and the knowledge of the roads they had
to travel to get there. They had a history not unlike your own‚ or
sometimes they came from the bonds of slavery. Judge Parker didn’t
seem to care where you came from as long as you achieved the goal.
He had directed you to Marshal Bates. He was a likeable man who had at
one time served with the Union Army. Marshal Bates was a talker and for
some reason he had a lot of time on his hands that day. He wanted to let
you know some of the history of this Marshal service that you were about
to join up with‚ and although you’d had a long day already you obliged.
He talked about how the Marshal service came about. Something
about it being started in 1789 crept into your ears. It was something you
hadn’t heard‚ and you wondered what good the information would do
you. He continued and surprised you with his knowledge of the Indians.
He seemed compassionate when he talked about them‚ and it made you
listen to him a little harder.
Yes‚ you knew the five tribes they called “The Civilized Tribes‚” had
been brought to the Indian Territories‚ but you didn’t know the name of
the treaty that had started the whole mess. The Indian Removal Act was
it’s name‚ and you put it into memory. If you ever laid eyes on the
document, it would certainly find its way to your pocket.
His talk didn’t stop there‚ and with his next words you found yourself
respecting the man a little more. He talked about how slavery had been
introduced into the lives of the Indians as a deterrent to runaways. Your
own black Seminole father had spoke of this before‚ but it was surprising
to here it from the lips of another. You had always wondered why‚ but
had been afraid to ask. It was as if he was reading your mind when he
answered.
“Would a slave runaway to a place only to be a slave again?” It made
sense to you then‚ and you quietly thanked him for showing you the
mechanics behind it. It had been a deterrent to keep slaves as slaves‚
but it had only worked to a point. The integration of the two people had
already taken place‚ and it was the reason there were so many black
freedmen in the Territory.
Marshal Bates stopped then‚ and a serious look overtakes his face.
Time was money‚ and it was time for you to earn your keep. Knowing this
was your first time out he let you in on the ground rules of your job. It
was a list of rules you’d better remember because it would make the
difference from you being paid or unpaid.
@ You were responsible for all of your own arrangements. From the
purchasing of supplies to the hiring of help.
@ You would be paid on a fee system. Everything little thing you did
needed to be written down if you wanted to be paid for it.
@ You would be paid two dollars an arrest.
@ Paid six cents a mile for going to the place of arrest‚ and ten cents
for the prisoner and yourself upon your return.
@
If you accidentally killed the man you were going after you would
be responsible for burying him unless some next of kin took on the task.
If they did you would be paid one dollar for your efforts.
He smiled at you then. It made you a little nervous having another
man smile at you that way‚ but you let it be for now. That’s when
Marshal Bates hit you with the last of the requirements regarding your
pay. The Marshal took twenty five percent of any fees a Deputy earned.
He smiled then‚ and you realized you might not like the man as much as
you thought.
Marshal Bates stopped talking then‚ and you are glad. A couple of
more words in the wrong direction‚ and you might have decided to let
the job lie where it lay. He rifles through some papers in his desk and
hands over a couple to you. It’s the name on the first one that catches
your eye. Will Whiskey. Seems like somebody was naming their kids after
their favorite past time you think to yourself. Marshal Bates explained
that the paper he had just given you was called a writ‚ and that it gave
you the authority to arrest any man for the court. “Any man‚” you asked.
He smiled‚ knowing what you were thinking. “Any man. White‚ Black‚
Red‚ Green or Yellow it didn’t matter. You are the authority for the
court.” You smile back.
He points out the Will Whiskey writ to you‚ and lets you in on more
rules. You put every word he says into memory.
“There are two crimes that you absolutely need a warrant for‚” he
says‚ “Violation of the revenue law, and for the introduction of liquor
into Indian Country.”
“Seems simple enough‚” you comment. Then it happens again.
Marshal Bates smiled that smile that belonged on the face of a Jackal
again‚ and then added the punch line. “You can’t make an arrest on
these charges unless you catch them in the act.”
“And how am I supposed to do that?”
Marshal Bates stands and walks just outside the door then. You’re
surprised when he walks in with Bass Reeves behind him.
“Reeves here is as good a man as any to explain it to you. He’s one
of the better men we have with disguises and such.”
You look him over. You have heard the stories‚ but it’s still hard to
imagine the man that’s the cause of them standing in front of you. The
black man in front of you stands six feet two inches‚ and weighs in at one
hundred and eighty pounds.
“Howdy‚” he says.
“Howdy.”
A man had to saddle his own horses in this life‚ but it was always good
to have a guiding hand in some matters. Before they sent you out they
were giving you tips from one of the better Deputy Marshals in the
Territory. Bass Reeves showed you some of the tricks he used to disguise
himself‚ and although you didn’t want to pry you asked about some of
the things that you had heard.
So he told you about his escape from his masters hand after hitting
him over a game of cards. He also talked about coming to Indian
Territory and working as a scout. You came to find out that he was a solid
man.
He took leave of you then‚ and his parting words are those of
encouragement. “You’ll do fine.” You take leave of Marshal Bates then‚
and round up the things you will need while out. You’re a loner by nature
so you take only the bare necessities.
It isn’t until later that day while sitting your horse on the banks of
the Arkansas that you realize what’s in store for you. Seventy four
thousand miles of Territory makes up Indian Territory. It’s a large area
to cover for one man‚ but someone has already been at your ear to tell
you where the man is.
After Many days of riding you come upon the wagon you suspect is
being driven by the outlaw Will Whiskey. He’s been on a all night drunk‚
and you can tell by the smell drifting up to your nose that a bath was the
farthest thing on his mind. Sitting around his wagon are a group of men
drinking the illegal moonshine. You’ve caught them in the act‚ but if you
ride in with your badge shining bright it’s more than likely you’ll be
blown off your horse. So now, it’s time for you to put on a disguise.
Looking more like a hobo than a lawman, you walk up to the wagon.
It’s not a normal walk‚ no‚ but one that wiggles and waves‚ and makes
you almost fall down. Will Whiskey seems to believe your act though‚ as
he lowers his rifle that had you marked for death twenty paces out.
“You have any moonshine? ” you ask as you almost fall down. Will
Whiskey looks incredulously at you‚ “Now that’s a stupid question. You
see all these drunks lying out around the wagon. This is the best shine
you’ll find this side of the Arkansas.”
“I’ll take two bottles‚”you say.
After the exchange you quickly grab his rifle‚ and shoot it into the
air. It’s the signal the other Marshals had been waiting for‚ and they ride
in‚ covering the rest of the men.
“Federal Marshals‚” you all say in unison. “Will Whiskey‚ you’re
going to Fort Smith for trial.
“No‚ no‚” he says.
“Yes‚ Yes‚” you say‚ “You’re going in front of the Judge.”
Inspired by the allure of western titles
in his youth‚ but bewildered by the lack
of strong African-American characters
in them‚ local Oklahoman author Sean
Chandler started his own publishing
company to fill the void. Mr. Chandler,
through years of research and western
folklore, had learned of a greater role
of the African-American in western history and wanted to transfer that knowledge into fictional works.
Wanting total control of the process
from beginning to end, Mr. Chandler self-published his first title “Ebony
Marshal” through his newly created Branded Black Publishing Company
in March of two-thousand and four. Suffice it to say that the book has
been met with much interest.
Mr. Chandler has since that time joined the Western Writers Association in two-thousand and five, and has continued writing about the
genre that he loves. Mr. Chandler currently resides in Oklahoma City‚
Oklahoma with his wife‚ and five children.