John
Wesley Hardin was born in Bonham, Fannin County, Texas, on 26th May,
1853. He was the son of James Hardin, a Methodist preacher, and was
named after John Wesley, the founder of
Methodism.
Hardin
was only 12 years old when members of the Confederate
Army returned
home after the American Civil War.
The war had a powerful impact on Hardin and he developed a strong
hatred of the freed slaves and killed
his first black man when he was 15 years old. Hardin fled from home
after the killing. As he was later to explain: "To
be tried at that time for the killing of a Negro meant certain death
at the hands of a court backed by Northern bayonets... thus, unwillingly,
I became a fugitive not from justice, be it known, but from the injustice
and misrule of the people who had subjugated the South."
In the next few weeks Hardin
was to kill three more men. These were soldiers who had attempted
to take him into custody. Hardin moved to Navarro County where he
became a school teacher. This was followed by work as a cowboy.
He then tried to make a living out of poker but this resulted in him
killing Jim Bradley in a gambling row.
Hardin's next killing took
place in Kosse, Texas when a man tried to rob him. As he pointed out
later: "I
told him that I only had about $50 or $60 in my pocket but if he would
go with me to the stable I would give him more, as I had the money
in my saddle pocket ... He said, "Give me what you have first."
I told him all right, and in so doing, dropped some of it on the floor.
He stooped down to pick it up and as he was straightening up I pulled
my pistol and fired. The ball struck him between the eyes and he fell
over, a dead robber."
In
1871 he was involved in taking cattle to Abilene
where he met Wild Bill Hickok. Hardin later
claimed he "killed five men on the journey and three more at
his destination". After killing four black men he was arrested
by the sheriff of Cherokee County. He escaped from jail in October
1872, and was soon back in trouble with the law. This included the
killing of Charles Webb, deputy sheriff of Brown County, on 26th May,
1874.
Hardin
fled to Florida and over the next few months killed six more men.
With a $4,000 price on his head Hardin was pursued by several bounty
hunters. Eventually he was captured by Captain John Armstrong and
a party of Texas
Rangers
at
Pensacola on 23rd July, 1877. The following year he was sentenced
to 25 years in prison. He was taken to Huntsville in Texas and he
spent his time studying law, theology and mathematics. Hardin regained
his religious faith and became superintendent of the Sunday School
in prison.
In
1894 Hardin was released from prison. He joined his children in Gonzales
County (his wife Jane had died on 6th November, 1892) before moving
to Karnes County, where he married Callie Lewis on 8th January, 1895.
The marriage was not a success and Hardin moved to El Paso where he
worked as a lawyer. Hardin also began writing his autobiography.
Hardin
got in trouble in 1895 when he started claiming that he paid Jeff
Milton
and
George
Scarborough
to
kill Martin McRose. Milton and Scarborough were arrested but Hardin
later withdrew his comments and the men were released.
His
next dispute concerned John
Selman.
He began saying unpleasant things about Selman's son after he arrested
Hardin's girlfriend for vagrancy. On 19th August, 1895, Selman
shot
John Wesley Hardin in the back of the head while he was standing at
the Acme Saloon Bar.
The
El Paso police found Hardin's unfinished autobiography in the house
he rented in the town. This was handed over to his children and the
book, Life
of John Wesley Hardin as Written by Himself was published
in 1896.
(1)
John Wesley Hardin, Life
of John Wesley Hardin as Written by Himself (1896)
The principles of the Southern cause loomed
up in my mind ever bigger, brighter, and stronger as the months and
years rolled on. I had seen Abraham Lincoln burned and shot to pieces
in effigy so often that I looked upon him as a very demon incarnate,
who was waging a relentless and cruel war on the South to rob her
of her most sacred rights. So you can see that the justice of the
Southern cause was taught to me in my youth, and if I never relinquished
these teachings in after years, surely I was but true to my early
training. The way you bend a twig, that is the way it will grow, is
an old saying, and a true one. So I grew up a rebel.
(2)
John Wesley Hardin, Life
of John Wesley Hardin as Written by Himself (1896)
I stopped in the road and he came at me with his big stick.
He struck me, and as he did it I pulled out a Colt's .44 six-shooter
and told him to get back. By this time he had my horse by the bridle,
but I shot him loose. He kept coming back, and every time he would
start I would shoot again and again until I shot him down. I went
to Uncle Clabe Houlshousen and brought him and another man back to
where Mage was lying. Mage still showed fight and called me a liar.
If it had not been for my uncle, I would have shot him again. Uncle
Houlshousen gave me a $20 gold piece and told me to go home and tell
father all about the big fight; that Mage was bound to die, and for
me to look out for the Yankee soldiers who were all over the country
at that time. Texas like other states, was then overrun with carpetbaggers
and bureau agents who had the United States Army to back them up in
their meanness. Mage shortly died in November, 1868. This was the
first man I ever killed, and it nearly distracted my father and mother
when I told them. All the courts were then conducted by bureau agents
and renegades, who were the inveterate enemies of the South and administered
a code of justice to suit every case that came before them and which
invariably ended in gross injustice to Southern people, especially
to those who still openly held on to the principles of the South.
To be tried at that time for the killing of a Negro meant certain
death at the hands of a court, backed by Northern bayonets; hence
my father told me to keep in hiding until that good time when the
Yankee bayonet should cease to govern. Thus, unwillingly, I became
a fugitive, not from justice be it known, but from the injustice and
misrule of the people who had subjugated the South.
(3)
John Wesley Hardin, Life
of John Wesley Hardin as Written by Himself (1896)
Bradley saw me and
tried to cut me off, getting in front of me with a pistol in one hand
and a Bowie knife in the other. He commenced to fire on me, firing
once, then snapping, and then firing again. By this time we were within
five or six feet of each other, and I fired with a Remington .45 at
his heart and right after that at his head. As he staggered and fell,
he said, "O, Lordy, don't shoot me any more." I could not
stop. I was shooting because I did not want to take chances on a reaction.
The crowd ran, and I stood there and cursed them loud and long as
cowardly devils who had urged a man to fight and when he did and fell,
to desert him like cowards and traitors.
(4)
John Wesley Hardin, Life
of John Wesley Hardin as Written by Himself (1896)
I had not been there
long before the boys took me to a Mexican camp where they were dealing
monte. I soon learned the rudiments of the game and began to bet with
the rest. Finally I turned a card down and tapped the game. My card
came and I said, "Pay the queen." The dealer refused. I
struck him over the head with my pistol as he was drawing a knife,
shot another as he also was drawing a knife. Well, this broke up the
monte game and the total casualties were a Mexican with his arm broken,
another shot through the lungs, and another with a very sore head.
We all went back to camp
and laughed about the matter, but the game broke up for good and the
Mexican camp was abandoned. The best people of the vicinity said I
did a good thing. This was in February, 1871.
(5)
John Wesley Hardin, Life
of John Wesley Hardin as Written by Himself (1896)
I have seen many
fast towns, but I think Abilene beat them all. The town was filled
with sporting men and women, gamblers, cowboys, desperadoes, and the
like. It was well supplied with bar rooms, hotels, barber shops, and
gambling houses, and everything was open.
I spent most of my time
in Abilene in the saloons and gambling houses, playing poker, faro,
and seven-up. One day I was rolling ten pins and my best horse was
hitched outside in front of the saloon. I had two six-shooters on,
and, of course, I knew the saloon people would raise a row if I did
not pull them off. Several Texans were there rolling ten pins and
drinking. I suppose we were pretty noisy. Wild Bill Hickok came in
and said we were making too much noise and told me to pull off my
pistols until I got ready to go out of town. I told him I was ready
to go now, but did not propose to put up my pistols, go or no go.
He went out and I followed him. I started up the street when someone
behind me shouted out, "Set up. All down but nine."
Wild Bill whirled around
and met me. He said, "What are you howling about, and what are
you doing with those pistols on?"
I said, "I am just
taking in the town."
He pulled his pistol and
said, "Take those pistols off. I arrest you."
I said all right and pulled
them out of the scabbard, but while he was reaching for them, I reversed
them and whirled them over on him with the muzzles in his face, springing
back at the same time. I told him to put his pistols up, which he
did. I cursed him for a long-haired scoundrel that would shoot a boy
with his back to him (as I had been told he intended to do me). He
said, "Little Arkansas, you have been wrongly informed."
I shouted, "This
is my fight and I'll kill the first man that fires a gun."
Bill said, "You are
the gamest and quickest boy I ever saw. Let us compromise this matter
and I will be your friend.
(6)
John Wesley Hardin, Life
of John Wesley Hardin as Written by Himself (1896)
The fellow told me he would kill me if I did not give him $100. I
told him that I only had about $50 or $60 in my pocket but if he would
go with me to the stable I would give him more, as I had the money
in my saddle pocket ... He said, "Give me what you have first."
I told him all right, and in so doing, dropped some of it on the floor.
He stooped down to pick it up and as he was straightening up I pulled
my pistol and fired. The ball struck him between the eyes and he fell
over, a dead robber.
(7)
John Wesley Hardin described how he killed Charles Webb in his autobiography,
Life of John
Wesley Hardin as Written by Himself (1896)
I turned and faced the man whom I had seen coming
up the street. He had on two six-shooters and was about fifteen steps
from me, advancing. He stopped when he got to within five steps of
me... and scrutinized me closely, with his hands behind him. I asked
him:
"Have you any papers
for my arrest?"
He said: "I don't
know you."
I said: "My name
is John Wesley Hardin."
He said, "Now I know
you, but have no papers for your arrest."
"Well," said
I, "I have been informed that the Sheriff of Brown County has
said that Sheriff Karnes of this County was no sheriff or he would
not allow me to stay around Comanche with my murdering pals."
As I turned around to
go in the door, I heard someone say, "Look out. Jack." It
was Bud Dixon, and as I turned around I saw Charles Webb drawing his
pistol. He was in the act of presenting it when I jumped to one side,
drew my pistol and fired.
In the meantime Webb had
fired, hitting me in the left side, cutting the length of it, inflicting
an ugly and painful wound. My aim was good and a bullet hole in the
left cheek did the work. He fell against the wall and as he fell he
fired a second shot, which went into the air.
(8)
John Wesley Hardin, Life
of John Wesley Hardin as Written by Himself (1896)
The simple fact is that Charles Webb had really come over from his
own county that day to kill me, thinking I was drinking and at a disadvantage.
He wanted to kill me to keep his name, and he made his break on me
like an assassin would. He fired his first shot at my vitals when
I was unprepared, and who blames a man for shooting under such conditions?
I was at a terrible disadvantage in my trial. I went before the court
on a charge of murder without a witness. The cowardly mob had either
killed them or run them out of the county. I went to trial in a town
in which three years before my own brother and cousins had met an
awful death at the hands of a mob. Who of my
readers would like to be tried under these circumstances? On that
jury that tried me sat six men whom I knew to be directly implicated
in my brother's death. No, my readers, I have served twenty-five years
for the killing of Webb, but know ye that there is a God in high heaven
who knows that I did not shoot Charles Webb through malice, nor through
anger, nor for money, but to save my own life.
True, it is almost as
bad to kill as to be killed. It drove my father to an early grave;
it almost distracted my mother; it killed my brother Joe and my cousins
Tom and William; it left my brother's widow with two helpless babes;
Mrs. Anderson lost her son Ham, and Mrs. Susan Barrickman lost her
husband, to say nothing of the grief of countless others. I do say,
however, that the man who does not
exercise the first law of nature - that of self preservation - is
not worthy of living and breathing the breath of life.
The jury gave me twenty-five
years in the penitentiary and found me guilty of murder in the second
degree. I appealed the case. The Rangers took me back to Austin to
await the result of my appeal. Judge White affirmed the decision of
the lower court, and they took me back to Comanche in the latter part
of September, 1878, where I received my sentence of twenty-five years
with hard labor.
(9)
John Wesley Hardin, Life
of John Wesley Hardin as Written by Himself (1896)
After receiving my sentence at Comanche, they started with me to Huntsville,
shackled to John Maston, a blacksmith of Comanche convicted of attempting
to murder and under two years' sentence. This man afterwards committed
suicide by jumping from the upper story in the building to a Rock
floor, where he was dashed to pieces. Nat Mackey, who was sentenced
for seventeen years for killing a man with a rock, was chained to
Davenport, who had a sentence of five years for horse stealing. Thus
there were four prisoners chained-by two's in a wagon and guarded
by a sheriff and company of Rangers. Of course, great crowds would
flock from everywhere to see the notorious John Wesley Hardin, from
the hoary-headed farmer to the little maid hardly in her teens.
On one occasion a young
lady told me she had come over to where we were passing the day before
and would not have missed seeing me for $100. I asked her if she was
satisfied now. She said, "Oh, yes; I can tell everybody I have
seen the notorious John Wesley Hardin, and he is so handsome!"
(10)
John Wesley Hardin, letter to his wife (July, 1881)
It is now about 8 o'clock
p.m. and I am locked into my cell for the night. By special permission
from my keeper I now write you. I can tell you that I spent this day
in almost perfect happiness, as I generally spend the Sabbaths here,
something that I once could not enjoy because I did not know the causes
or results of that day. I had no idea before how it benefits a man
in my condition. Although we are all prisoners here we are on the
road to progress. "J. S." and I are
both members of our societies and we are looked upon as the leaders
by our associates, of which we have a goodly
number. John is president of the Moral and Christian Society and I
am secretary of our Debating Club. I spoke in our debating club this
evening on the subject of Woman's Rights. John held that women should
have equal rights with men and I held they shouldn't. We had a lively
time. I followed him, winding up the debate for the day. John is the
champion of woman's rights, but he failed to convince the judges,
who after they had listened to my argument, decided in my favor,"
etc.
(11)
Judge W. S. Fry, pardon sent to John Wesley Hardin (February, 1894)
Enclosed I send you a full
pardon from the Governor of Texas. I congratulate you on its reception
and trust that it is the day dawn of a bright and peaceful future.
There is time to retrieve a lost past. Turn your back upon it with
all its suffering and sorrow and fix your eyes upon the future with
the determination to make yourself an honorable and useful member
of society. The hand of every true man will be extended to assist
you in your upward course and I trust that the name of Hardin will
in the future be associated with the performance of deeds that will
ennoble his family and be a blessing to humanity. Did you ever read
Victor Hugo's masterpiece, "Les Miserables"? If not, you
ought to read it. It paints in graphic words the life of one who had
tasted the bitterest dregs of life's cup, but in his Christian manhood
rose above it almost like a god
and left behind him a path luminous with good deeds. With the best
wishes for your welfare and happiness.
(12)
J. Marvin Hunter met John Wesley Hardin in Mason, Texas, in 1895.
John Wesley Hardin came
into the office to get an estimate on the cost of printing a small
book, the story of his turbulent life. At that time Hardin was forty-two
years old, about five feet ten inches in height, weighed about 160
pounds, and wore a heavy mustache. He was of light complexion and
had mild blue eyes.
(13)
El
Paso Times (7th April, 1895)
Among the leading citizens of Pecos City now in El Paso is John Wesley
Hardin, a leading member of the Pecos City bar. In his younger days
he was as wild as the broad western plains on which he was raised.
But he was a generous, brave-hearted youth and got into no small amount
of trouble for the sake of his friends, and soon gained the reputation
for being quick-tempered and a dead shot.
In those days when one
man insulted another, one of the two of them died then and there.
Young Hardin, having a reputation for being a very brave man who never
took water, was picked out by every bad man who wanted to make a reputation,
and that was where the "bad men" made their mistake, for
the young westerner still survives many warm and tragic encounters.
Forty-one years has steadied
the impetuous cowboy down to a peaceable, dignified, quiet man of
business. But underneath his dignity is a firmness that never yields
except to reason and law. He is a man who makes friends of all who
come into close contact with him.
He is here as associate
attorney for the persecution in the case of the State of Texas vs
Bud Frazer, charged with assault with intent to kill. Mr. Hardin is
known all over Texas. He was born and raised in this state.
(14)
Fank Patterson, statement by the bartender of the Acme Saloon
(August, 1895)
My name is Frank Patterson. I am a bar tender at present
at the Acme saloon. This evening about 11 o'clock J. W. Hardin was
standing with Henry Brown shaking dice and Mr. Selman walked in at
the door and shot him. Mr. G. L. Shackleford was also in the saloon
at the time the shooting took place. Mr. Selman said something as
he came in at the door. Hardin was standing with his back to Mr. Selman.
I did not see him face around before he fell or make any motion. All
I saw was that Mr. Selman came in the door, said something and shot
and Hardin fell. Don't think Hardin ever spoke. The first shot was
in the head.
(15)
El Paso Herald (20th August, 1895)
Last night between 11 and 12 o'clock San Antonio street was thrown
into an intense state of excitement by the sound
of four pistol shots that occurred at the Acme saloon. Soon the crowd
surged against the door, and there, right inside, lay the body of
John Wesley Hardin, his blood flowing over the floor and his brains
oozing out of a pistol shot wound that had passed through his head.
Soon the fact became known that John Selman, constable of Precinct
No. 1, had fired the fatal shots that had ended the career of so noted
a character as Wes Hardin, by which name he is better known to all
old Texans. For several weeks past trouble has been brewing and it
has been often heard on the streets that John Wesley Hardin would
be the cause of some killing before he left the town.
Only a short time ago
Policeman Selman arrested Mrs. McRose, the mistress of Hardin, and
she was tried and convicted of carrying a pistol. This angered Hardin
and when he was drinking he often made remarks that showed he was
bitter in his feelings towards John Selman. Selman paid no attention
to these remarks, but attended to his duties and said nothing. Lately
Hardin had become louder in his abuse and had continually been under
the influence of liquor and at such times he was very quarrelsome,
even getting along badly with some of his friends. This quarrelsome
disposition on his part resulted in his death last night and it is
a sad warning to all such parties that the rights of others must be
respected and that the day is past when a person having the name of
being a bad man can run rough shod over the law and rights of other
citizens.
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