Anatomy of a Doppelganger

Welcome to Hidetown- This time we are looking at a photograph circulating on the Internet, supposedly of Wild Bill Hickok.

You can see from all of the entries below that I take western history photographs pretty seriously. As I expanded my collection, I had to devise a way (which I trusted) to make the decisions about which of my photographs were actually treasures and which were just wanna-be's. I call that trick “Quintangulation,” or just Q-5 for short, and it is a digital technique which I have come to trust in very much.

In a nutshell, Q-5 is built on the assumption that adult facial features have certain mathematical ratios which never change, especially the distance between the eyes (pupils), and between the eyes and the nostrils... and to a lesser degree the upper lip and the chin which might change a little, but also taking into account the ears and hairlines, and jaw or cheek bones if they are prominent. The weakness in this technique is that it depends on a good photograph of the person to already be extant, and from nearly the same angle. But for famous people, this requirement is usually surmountable.

This face has been marked to see how well it compared to Morgan Earp. Short of a match, it scored about 90%, similar to the photo above.

Some faces might be quite similar to a famous person, but will fail this kind of scrutiny regarding proportion. I see on Ebay that many people claim to have found and are trying to sell a rare, “important historical image,” which they have successfully run through some kind of computer facial recognition program, which now (they believe) qualifies their image to sell for millions of dollars. And yet my technique almost always says they are mere doppelgangers. I am not saying that I am smarter than a computer, but computers are only as smart as the persons operating them... and very well might be ignoring eye or hair color, appropriate period clothing, or some key feature which was obscured by a shadow... in other words it takes human judgment, based on historical knowledge to really authenticate such a treasure. And that after the two likenesses have been carefully compared to discern whether they are mere look- alikes, or in fact share these mathematical facial relationships.

I believe that part of the problem with the facial recognition technology is that there is a margin of variance left for changes which happen to every face over time. This fudge factor might facilitate the erroneous crowning of an otherwise average tintype, and propel a flurry of stories in local newspapers excited about the “new discovery,” all cultivated by non-historians who trust in the technology a bit too much. The technology is merely saying that over all, comparing this face and that face, measuring many variable traits such as the hair, the eyebrows, facial hair, etc, all features which could change, are some percentage similar to one another. The hard, unarguable proportions I speak of with my technique are not near as important to the more popular digital analysis. The user of the facial recognition program may or may not build their results on the pupil's and nostril's spacial relationships first, and might subjectively want to share in the discovery of an important historical find. And those variables are too low a bar for objects which might be worth a great deal to collectors and to history.

Thankfully, Wild Bill was well documented from his youth through his abbreviated life. He was (to be kind), a beady-eyed, hawk nosed, raw boned hunk, who probably killed more men than all the other gunslingers in the west combined. Not bragging, he confessed to have killed hundreds of Confederates while serving as a Union sniper during the Civil War. He was a nervous character, unafraid to kill and not ready to die, who survived by being a little sharper than his enemies, and willing to pull the trigger without hesitation... regardless whether his foe was facing him or not. Anyway, I gave this fuzzy visage a higher score for a doppelganger, (than usual) because I could only find a few discrepancies after the Q-5 was applied. It is very close... but I believe a clearer version of this photograph would reveal the nose is not drooped or pointed enough. I gave it a “90” score, where “95” is the highest score I ever give anything. But I also require a 95 to recognize any image as a possible authentic likeness of an historical personality. The eyes and the nose must be very close, or the rest does not matter.

Yes, in the interests of history, I am willing to perform this technique for people who think they have a historical discovery. The technique pretty much speaks for itself. It is just math. But the math creates a pretty high bar- so high that many famous pictures of various famous people do not pass the test! But that is another story... some of which you can find down below...

Feel free to search the site as well, you might find other subjects of interest! And thanks for pulling up and sittin' on the porch for awhile. It gets lonely out here at Hidetown!

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U. S. Deputy Marshal Bass Reeves

Digital illustration by Russell Cushman

Western History may have neglected the story of Bass Reeves, and there are understandable reasons for it. Still, Oklahoma historians knew of him and wrote about him as much as any of the lesser known deputy marshals. And there were scores of them. He was treated like all of the rest, and since he did not make it into the famed “Three Guardians,” so often written about, his story took a back seat in most histories where Western lawmen were the subject. Most of us, when reading about him, were ignorant of his race, and just saw a name next to an event. Local historians sometimes did not make an issue of his race, since Oklahoma was the true melting pot of the West, and Black, Native American and White persons and various mixtures of the same were the norm in the Indian Territory. But as “Black History” has become more important in recent years, so has Bass Reeves. And thankfully, Oklahoma had good objective journalists and historians like C. W. “Dub” West to gather the facts before writers from all corners began to create his myth.

I know very little about Bass Reeves... and probably some of what “I know” is faulty due to the rush to bring Reeves to the fore and lionize him in recent years. Wanting to pass on his real story, I thought it would be appropriate to introduce Dub West and what he found in a Muskogee newspaper about him. Dub West was a kind, old man when I met him years ago, and he had written many little books about Oklahoma's incredible Western history. He published this article in his book Outlaws and Peace Officers in the Indian Territory, over a decade before Bass Reeves was “discovered.” Dub had the advantage of asking the questions we all want to ask when there were people alive who knew his subjects personally. And he understood the value of firsthand sources, and he was a devoted researcher and did many interviews, and he often quoted from them. Here is what Dub humbly offered his readers in 1987, random punctuation and all, lifted from an article written in 1910, about one of the great Western marshals, who happened to be Black:

BASS REEVES IS DEAD

The above headline appeared in the Muskogee “Phoenix” January 13, 1910. A subheadline was MAN OF THE OLD DAYS GONE- DEPUTY MARSHAL 32 YEARS. The tribute given to a black peace officer was unusual for the time. It was as follows:

“Bass Reeves is dead. He passed away yesterday afternoon about three o'clock, and in a short time news of his death had reached the Federal Courthouse where the announcement was received in the various offices with comments of regret and where it recalled to the officers and clerks many incidents in the early days of the United States Court here in which the old Negro deputy figured heroically.

Bass Reeves had completed 32 years of service as a deputy, when with the coming of Statehood at the age of 69, he gave up his position. For about two years then he served on the Muskogee Police Force, which position he gave up about a year ago on account of sickness, from which he never recovered. Bright's Disease and the complications of ailments together with old age, were the cause of his death.”

In the history of the early days of Eastern Oklahoma, the name of Bass Reeves has a place in the front rank among those who cleared out the old Indian Territory of outlaws and desperadoes. No story of the conflict of the government officers with those outlaws which ended only a few years ago with the rapid filling up of the Territory with people, can't be complete without mention of the old Negro who died yesterday.

For 32 years, beginning way back in the seventies and ending in 1907, Bass Reeves was a Deputy United States Marshal. During that time, he was sent to arrest some of the most desperate characters that ever infested Indian Territory and endangered life and peace of its borders. And he got his man as often as any of the deputies. At times he was unable to get them alive, and so in the course of his long service, he killed 14 men. But Bass Reeves always said that he never shot a man when it was not necessary for him to do so in the discharge of his duty to save his own life. He was tried for murder on one occasion, but was acquitted upon proving that he had killed the man in the discharge of his duty and was forced to do it. Reeves was an Arkansan, and in his early days, he was a slave. He entered the Federal Service as a deputy marshal long before the court was established in Indian Territory and served under the marshal at Ft. Smith. Then, when people started to come into the Indian Territory and a marshal was appointed to Muskogee, he was sent over there.

Reeves served under 7 marshals, and all of them were more than satisfied with his services. Everybody who came into contact with the Negro deputy in an official capacity had a great deal of respect for him, and at the court house in Muskogee, one can hear the stories of his devotion to duty, his unflinching courage, and his many thrilling experiences, and although he could not read or write, he always took receipts and had his accounts in good shape.

Undoubtedly the act which best typified the man, and which at least best shows his devotion to duty was the arrest of his son. A warrant for the arrest of the younger Reeves, who was charged with the murder of his wife, had been issued. Marshal Bennett had said that perhaps another deputy had better be sent to arrest him. The old Negro was in the room at the time, and with a devotion to duty equal to that of the old Roman, Brutus, whose greatest claim to fame was that the love of his son could not sway him from justice, he said, “Give me the writ,” and went out and arrested his son, brought him to court, and upon the conviction, he was sentenced to imprisonment and is still serving his sentence.

Reeves had many narrow escapes. At different times his belt was shot in two, a button shot off his coat, his hat brim shot off, and the bridle reins which he held in his hand cut by a bullet. However, in spite of all of these narrow escapes and the many conflicts in which he was engaged, Reeves was never wounded. And this, not withstanding, the fact that he said he never fired a shot until the desperado he was trying to arrest had started the shooting.

[SO BACK TO THE BLOG...] It appears that Bass Reeves was always considered an important Deputy U. S. Marshal, even in his own time. He was not neglected or overlooked by those who knew him in Oklahoma, but loved and appreciated... And even those a generation later who knew of him. But no story of a real lawman could have compared to the super-heroes created by the pulp-fiction writers of the day, who inspired the purified, romanticized depictions of Earp and Masterson, and the Texas Rangers etc.. The American Public did not care that much about history, just in gratuitous violence and the "bad guys" getting what they deserved... but that only happened consistently in the mythical West. We have to wonder, what was it or is it in the American character, which would rather be entertained by misleading fibs about real-life pimps, gamblers and hired killers, who briefly posed as lawmen, than true stories of heroism in law enforcement. Note: The picture in this article of Reeves is not from a tintype as it appears, but an "artist's concept" created with Photoshop, by me.

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A Jawdropping Travesty = A "Pardon" For Ben Cravens.

The heart of this story which belongs in the "Mandela File," has almost been lost, except for a casual mention in a newspaper from 1911. Charles Maust, convicted of Grand larceny (horse theft) in Missouri, claimed that new accusations of his actually being a wanted killer in Oklahoma were being pressed as a result of the lawsuit he had filed against the state of Missouri. In the third year of a four year sentence, his alleged connection to outlaw Ben Cravens had been allegedly created to intimidate him, and force him to withdraw his lawsuit. Now Maust intended to demand reparations from the state. What followed was what happens when a corrupt establishment squares off with an uncompromising idealist. And it will blow your mind.
All of my attention to identification of these Old West characters may seem like an obsession, but of course these new, never before seen or published tintypes of mine being presented here on this blog would be worth far less without the accompaniment of careful inspection and consideration. And along with preparing for that presentation, I have encountered some dumbfounding misidentifications in the historical past. None is more intriguing and baffling to me than the case of Ben Cravens, an Oklahombre who probably made more fame while someone else wore his shoes, than he did as an active outlaw. I know, I have to explain that. ****************************************************************************************************** Cravens was a 2-bit Oklahoma rustler and bootlegger who worked his way up to bank robbing. He was a “member” of the infamous Doolin gang for a short while until his reckless behavior became a liability, even to them. After splitting with the Doolin gang, he wandered into several illegal and unprofitable ventures, and was finally apprehended and sentenced to twenty years in the Lansing Penitentiary. One might think he would have disappeared into the prison sunset, but not ol' Ben. He may have been reckless, but he was equally as crafty. ******************************************************************************************************* After a few years in prison, Cravens managed to get assigned to do prison labor in the coal mines, and in 1900, along with two other killers, made an escape after carving pistols out of wood and covering them with foil. Caught "off-guard," the prison guard gave up his real gun when confronted with them and soon bullets were flying. A guard and one of the escapees was killed quickly, and Cravens was wounded in the affair, but he still ran off and escaped, and he went straight to the “Nations”... the Osage Reservation where he had friends and trusty hideouts. The first thing he did was have a friend carve an embedded slug from his head. Cravens was not just reckless and crafty, he was Ford tough. ********************************************************************************************************* After the trail grew cold, Ben returned to his crime spree, worse than before. Committing a string of robberies, he then treacherously shot Bert Welty, his accomplice who had been wearing a dress and posing as a woman. A shotgun in the face was Welty's thanks and reward for his assistance, not to mention life imprisonment for the death of a storekeeper during one of their robberies. Legends conflict whether Ben Cravens escaped with all of their loot, or that he dropped it and left it in the field, to slow down his pursuers. Not long after that, Cravens killed a lawman to avoid capture and once again, evaporated into thin air. Cravens was supposedly captured a couple more times, and managed to escape each time. Authorities offered a $10,000 reward for his capture. That was A LOT OF MONEY in those days, but this was the last we know for sure about Ben Cravens. Unfortunately, that was not the last word on his bizarre story.
Almost a dozen years later, authorities got a curious break in his case. Here is my theory of what actually hapened. In a belated and twisted crime investigation, (I believe) lawmen had a frustrating Missouri suspect whom they knew to be guilty, but had insufficient evidence. So they conspired to force a change in his identity, whereby he would be sent to prison for the rest of his life. Craven's unused prison sentences and untried murders were a perfect fit. So a convicted horse thief named Charles Maust was suddenly identified by another inmate (the barber) as Ben Cravens while serving his four year sentence in the Jefferson City Penitentiary. This was just the beginning of Maust's lifelong misery. The obscure farm worker found himself trapped in a devilish frame up, and facing a stacked deck. ***************************************************************************************************** J. H. Livingston, the Bertillon expert, using the Bertillon identification system, (considered a reliable method for documenting a person's permanent facial characteristics) positively identified Charles Maust as Cravens. Maust's face was supposedly compared to Bertillon data from Cravens and was supposedly found to be a dead ringer for the wanted robber and killer. Since the two men did not resemble one another, it is obvious to us today that this was a runaway steamroller, where the pursuasiveness of scientific evidence and the long arm of the the law collaberated to achieve a desired result, and justice in this case was blinded and corrupted by absolute power. And it got worse. Several prison administrators, and several persons who knew Cravens during his outlaw days testified that he was in fact the wanted outlaw, long sought after for so many years.
One was Congressman Bird McGuire, popular advocate for Oklahoma statehood. Another was former Deputy United States Marshal A. O. Lund, who had served on a posse when Cravens had been seriously wounded during his capture, and had guarded him for weeks. Another was Frank Canton, then the Oklahoma Adjutant General, a famous lawman who had pursued the robber as well. The FIX was in, and in deep. *****************************************************************************************************
Frank Canton: outlaw, range detective, assassin, soldier and all-around hatchet man. ****************************************************************************************************** To put things into better perspective, Frank Canton, Maust's most prominent and powerful accuser, was a gunslinger named Josiah Horner who made a name for himself as a rustler and bank robber in Texas in his early years, but who escaped prosecution by going to Nebraska and changing his name to Frank Canton. He was the mastermind behind the Johnson County War debacle in Wyoming. Like Tom Horn, he had made a name for himself as a paid assassin, hired by big Wyoming ranchers to eliminate small ranchers which they called "cattle rustlers." When he left the Rockies as a pariah, he was recruited to clean up Oklahoma, with prejudice. And Charles Maust's dilemma was proof that he did just that. The question was, prejudiced towards whom? Perhaps in Maust's past life was a score for Frank Canton to settle. ****************************************************************************************************** In this case, for some reason, Charles Maust, horse thief, was the target. Maust had been sent up on questionable circumstances in the first place, insisting that witnesses who could clear him of the crimes he was accused of had never been included in the investigation. Now caught in the vise of a bizarre conspiracy, he found himself on trial as a famous outlaw with numerous Old West personalities in the courtroom, ready to participate in the last chapter in western history. The event had attracted so many western old timers, it was dubbed an "outlaw reunion" by the Media; lawmen and outlaws, there to witness the trial of the "last outlaw," and old scar-faced Bert Welty, Ben Cravens' old partner in crime, whom he allegedly shot rather than divide the spoils, pointing his vengeful finger at him. His testimony was considered the coup de gras for the prosecution. ********************************************************************************************************* Someone very powerful arranged this incredible kangaroo court on steroids, and "Frank Canton" had to have had a hand in it. Someone of authority with complete access to the records was able to collect and indoctrinate the witnesses, falsify the Bertillon data, switch the thumb prints, and hypnotize the Oklahoma Media into submission. And this is what they did. To insure success, they sabotaged Maust's chances by luring attorney Al Jennings into the fray. Jennings, a "reformed" outlaw cum movie actor, never saw publicity that he didn't like. ********************************************************************************************************* Hiring Jennings as the defense attorney was a stroke of genius, grouping hapless Maust with a known former outlaw, a convicted bank robber, a controversial criminal whose family had been in a shooting war with Temple Houston, and lost... now pleading for Maust's innocence, in, as Jennings pleaded, a simple case of mistaken identity. After the trial Jennings admitted that he actually knew the real Ben Cravens, because the outlaw had tried to recruit him for a robbery. If the truth be known, they had probably ridden together on bank jobs, but that was more than the reformed outlaw, now the defense attorney in a sensational trial, was likely to confess before the Jury produced a verdict. But his transparency aside, the aggregate of credibility between the two men was too thin to measure.
Maust claimed that there were people who could speak on his behalf... but nowhere to be seen. His ex-wife might be coming from Colorado, and she could clear him. Former employers... but nobody seemed inclined to help his defense. Towards the end of the trial, as Maust understood that he was about to be sentenced.. and possibly to hang until dead, he made a statement, explaining that his real name was Charles Maust MCDONALD; that he had been born in Texas, his father had been killed by cattlemen (accused of rustling?) and he had lived in the Dakota Territory before he came to Missouri; That he had been married and had two children, and his name was now Charles Maust, and he was innocent of any wrong-doing. For some reason, these and other facts were never revealed during the trial. ************************************************************************************************************* The jury must have been thoroughly un-convinced after Jenning's inept defense, and Maust's lame explanations, because after 50 hours of deliberation, he was convicted for the murders which Cravens had committed, with great fanfare. Now he was said by the state to be Ben Cravens, convicted of Cravens' crimes, and sent to complete all of Ben Cravens' prison sentences. This, as it turned out, meant LIFE imprisonment. Maust was said to speak indifference when he was sentenced, fully expecting to be hanged. An innocent man sentenced to life in prison, with no friends to speak up on his behalf, might rather be dead. ************************************************************************************************************** The ironies surrounding this true event are heart-stabbing, for anyone concerned about American justice. A feisty, indignant man, perhaps innocent of any crime, or at least of those he was accused, and considering himself the victim of a corrupt judicial system, applies the Law to the very system which has imprisoned him. He is consequently thrown to the wolves of that system, falsely accused, prosecuted and even defended by former outlaws, men who have done far worse things, and sent to prison for life, while the wolves lick their teeth. **************************************************************************************************************** In 1915 several articles appeared in midwest newspapers assailing Oklahoma authorities for convicting an innocent man with highly questionable evidence. The November 4th issue of The Leon Reporter ran an expos'e, citing other Bertillon experts who insisted that Maust was not and could not be Cravens. They introduced Dr. J. B. Alley, an old childhood friend of Cravens' who visited Maust in prison, but did not recognize him as Cravens, and could not find any common ground with him. Alley proclaimed to the Reporter and other Media outlets that the wrong man had been convicted. Later, Bert Welty, the former accomplice of Cravens, confessed that he had been afforded a visit with his mother and promised ultimate freedom instead of his life sentence; basically bribed with a "get a hug and a get out of jail card" to identify Maust as Ben Cravens. Still in prison however, Welty had gotten to hug his crying mother at least. Now he vindictively spilled the beans on the whole sorry mess. But Oklahoma authorities never flinched. "Cravens" had been the catch and the story of the decade. Reputations had been made or fortified. The "last of the bad outlaws" had been rounded up. Oklahoma was safe. The famous outlaw, whom "no jail could hold," was finally put where the sun don't shine. There was no looking back.
My study, using my own ID system, proves that the Bertillon system, which was simplistic and easily abused, could easily have conflated the two men's identities, because they shared several key facial similarities. But only from a frontal view and only mathematically. Their heads were shaped very differently, and they were by no means "doppelgangers," or even similar. Maust's tiny, beady eyes were wider apart, but his irises were the same distance apart as Cravens'. The ears and the nostrils all measured correctly, to make one man appear to theoretically resemble the other. But even though the “science” was satisfied to amateur eyes, any person who compared the two men would see that they could not be the same person. Their profiles were especially dissimilar, and Cravens' chin was decidedly larger. Maust's cranium was especially small, and his face was triangular, with noticeable width between the cheekbones, and a sloping jaw, whereas Cravens had a more straight face, and rectangular in shape. But Maust supposedly had most of the seven, telltale Cravens scars, and in the right places, more or less. ************************************************************************************************************** THE REST OF THE STORY... ************************************************************************************************************** Right BEFORE THE TRIAL, as authorities and the Media became concerned about the possibility of a misidentification, Maust turned up in the prison infirmary with serious burns on his face. Prison administrators attributed it to his own use of a hot pepper solution to intentionally disfigure himself, to prevent any further comparison of his face to Cravens'. Chronic redness and swelling thus clouded further Bertillon comparisons, and prevented objective inquiry until after the trial. Looking back on this obstacle to justice, it is easy to imagine that prison guards applied the solution by force, themselves to obscure the anatomical differences, and prevent Maust's acquittal. ************************************************************************************************************** After Maust was safely tucked away at Leavenworth, he presented scars on his wrists, and claimed that he had been tortured twelve hours a day for ninety days, in attempts to get him to confess that he was indeed Cravens. Maust refused, but his stubbornness and faith in the judicial system failed to gain him his freedom. For many observers, his brutal handling and egregious conviction became a black mark on the state of Oklahoma.
It had to have been a vast conspiracy, one that would have impressed even Hilary Clinton, from the identification by an inmate barber who claimed he recognized the outlaw, to the prosecutors who ignored the obvious differences between the men, to the judges who let it all unfold without opposition. The circus atmosphere, enhanced by Maust's defense attorney, none other than Oklahoma's Al Jennings, a former bank robber himself, now performing as himself in movies depicting his crimes, and futilely trying to produce justice in this obvious fix, made the trial a near farce. He knew the real Cravens but could not, or would not produce him. ************************************************************************************************************* Whether it was intentional or not, the conviction of Maust certainly removed the threat of arrest for the real Ben Cravens, wherever he was, and was the effective equivalent of a full pardon. Might that have been the goal all along? Certainly there were many Old West personalities who watched and cheered during the proceedings. Some of them had to have known the truth, and watched silently as Maust went down. Meanwhile the newspapers tried to illustrate the possible miscarriage of justice being birthed in plain sight, but the blind trust of criminal science, the excitement over discovering the alleged Old West outlaw, and the completion of a long-standing murder case, where most significantly, a fine lawman had been killed in the line of duty, carried the day.
In the end, the sad and unprepossessing Charles Maust BECAME Ben Cravens. And we have to wonder, what had he done to draw such a vast conspiracy of legal persecution? Whatever it was, those who controlled or overlooked Oklahoma jurisprudence deliberately used the system to condemn an apparently innocent man. At least innocent of Ben Cravens' crimes... And Maust contended this until the day he died. *********************************************************************************************************** There are clues, perhaps way too obscure and degraded now to provide any comfort. Again, here is an example of what I believe happened: As I mentioned earlier, I believe Oklahoma lawmen, in concert with Misouri lawmen had identified a criminal whom they knew was guilty, but did not have the evidence necessary to put the perpetrator away. So they changed his identity. What had he done? Think of a crime which would have most infuriated the average American male in those days. Rape, molestation of children... take your pick. But in those days, and for a long time afterwards, to step forward and make accusations of such horrible crimes was enough to ruin your own life, with the chance that the accused might still beat the rap. Many victims just let it go, and suffered in silence. The clue, if it is true, as to what might have happened, is one report that I have read that the Maust children were in an orphanage in South Dakota. Charles Maust's ex was supposedly in Colorado. This was a messed up family at best. And perhaps an abusive one if this scenario is true. It was rare in those days for the courts to take children away from BOTH PARENTS. Maust's family never stood up for him because, even though he was obviously NOT Ben Cravens, he was a bad person, and his family hated him. They figured the system had done them and him justice, even if they had to borrow somebody else's crime and punishment to do it. That spineless theory might make you feel a little better about what happened to poor Charles Maust McDonald. ************************************************************************************************************** LOOK at these photo comparisons. You tell me! Maust was innocent of Cravens' crimes... Although he does not look like a clever, ruthless highwayman, he could easily pass for a child abuser... I'm jus' sayin'... Anyway, my tintype (below) looks a WHOLE LOT more like Ben Cravens than the poor guy who did his time.
I have purchased hundreds of tintypes of Victorian newsmakers over the years, and share many of them here in Hidetown. My technique of ID I call "Quintangulation"... where at least five critical spots on a famous face are digitally superimposed on one of my doppelgangers... sometimes with astounding results. Read on and see studies of Doc Holliday, Billy the Kid and others.
By the way, according to my own test, this fellow is not Ben Cravens... but could have easily been incarcerated for impersonating a bad outlaw. And in Oklahoma that could have gotten you LIFE! ************************************************************************************************************** Post Script: In 1947 Maust was paroled out of prison as an old man and in poor health. Even though he had served the time for the crimes, and lying would do him no good, he went to his grave claiming that he was just plain old Charles Maust, and not even guilty of horse stealing. He passed away, the most celebrated escape artist, and the most despised Oklahoma outlaw, in 1950.
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FACE to FACE III with "The Kid"... and his Indomitable Conundrum

Billy the Kid! For some reason, the story of this ill-fated youth still attracts interest today, so much so that I do not have to relate it again. But I contend there is a great deal unresolved about this enigmatic outlaw, which deserves a great deal more scholarship and study. We know very little about his youth, how he survived after he was orphaned as a boy. Few authors have explored the amount of bullying and injustice “the Kid” endured before he became the most infamous killer in American history. We only know that it was alleged that as a very young fellow, he led a large band of cattle rustlers all over Texas and New Mexico, and defied and frustrated authorities for years until he was finally assassinated... **************************************************************************************** Or was he?
Henry McCarty, alias William Bonney had several names and several possible deaths... many supposed lovers, and hundreds of enemies, including the territorial governor, prominent cattlemen, merchants, and several southwestern law enforcement agencies. No manhunt had ever employed so many men, backed by so many various interests, just to capture a young man who had become a phantom of the southern plains. It seemed no lawman could catch him, no confederates would betray him, and no jail could even hold him. And few other wanted outlaws would ever be able to claim the stellar network of faithful associates, which included ranchers, attorneys, cowboys and most of the Hispanic community in New Mexico, which Billy had under his spell. History has also revealed that no other outlaw ever had such a corrupt cabal organized to silence him and his allies, who, believe it or not, were a deputized posse themselves. The politicians, the merchants and ranchers, even the military pooled their great resources to ensure their demise, and hopefully the end of Billy the Kid. And still they failed. ***************************************************************************************** It has to be admitted that William Bonney was a charismatic leader, who had become the gladiator for the underdogs in New Mexican society; an avenger who had suffered all of his life from a dominant culture which had no room for upstarts- especially orphaned Irish immigrants who had no education, no pedigree, and no money, and who had discovered a path of survival which would have made Darwin proud. Many gunslinging outlaws were recruited in the so-called “Lincoln County War,” where big New Mexico ranchers such as John Chisum sought to keep a tight grip of control over land, water rights and commerce in this prime ranching region. Unjust and horrific things were done to William Bonney's side; assassinations of unarmed men, even setting them afire after they had been shot down in the streets, cruel deeds which followed after mercantile price wars, bribes, larcenies and threats failed to suppress the newcomers. When, late in the "war" Bonney and his buddies were finally deputized, it became a shooting war between law enforcement agencies.(just like the one in Tombstone). When Billy emerged as a crafty and unscrupulous avenger, in fact a hero among the lower classes, a huge reward was offered for his head, and a ruthless manhunter was given the task of his annihilation, making Billy the most famous Public Enemy Number One, forever. ********************************************************************************** Sheriff Pat Garrett claimed to have shot him from the darkness of a mutual friend's cabin, apparently too afraid to confront him in broad daylight. Billy was barefoot at the time, half-naked and armed only with a butcher knife which he brought to slice a chunk of meat... and was only asking for permission when he was blown away. Billy died asking and repeating, “Quien es?” (Who is is this?) The answer boomed into the night silence and the young outlaw, just twenty-one years old, slumped to generate a bloody pool, just as many of his enemies had, supposedly one for each year of his life. He was buried just outside of Ft. Sumner and that was the end of that. Or was it? ***************************************************************************************** Billy's most famous photograph, a tintype of him standing clown-like, with his head cocked, hat crushed, loosely holding a Winchester rifle, looking stoned out of his mind, is perhaps one of the most famous photographs in American history. He is the very epitome of the brazen western outlaw... Or was he?
When looking at Billy there, posing with an over-shirt, a vest and a sweater on top of that, it is obvious that he was not exactly fashion conscious... but giving him every benefit of the doubt, it still appears that he was a few bricks shy of a load... His eyes seem to be rolling into the back of his head, cadaver-like, as if he has just partaken of some peyote, or some other hallucinogenic. Or had he? ****************************************************************************************** I have often wondered if he was dead, when the tintype was made. Even if conscious, this Billy could never have outfoxed posses for years, broken out of jail, killed twenty men, and stolen and fenced thousands of head of cattle. This slump-shouldered, disheveled moron really looks more like an escapee from the State mental institution. It is not likely that this guy could get a band of cunning outlaws to follow him to a croquet match, as has been proposed. Unless of course, this loose-jawed tripper was actually dead. And that would explain the peculiar expression and body language of this notorious outlaw. Suffice to say, he was not at his best, in the famous photo. ****************************************************************************************** Which only adds to the Billy conundrum. How could such a goon manage to piss off so many powerful, vengeful people? How could he have led a notorious crime ring, which included cattle-rustling, counterfeiting and assassinations of lawmen? How could he have worked his way to the top of an organization which included the likes of cunning robbers like Henry Brown and Dave Rudabaugh? Both of whom went down in a blaze of outlaw glory later. The Mexicans who finally ended Rudabaugh's crime spree treated him like a bad rattlesnake, cutting off his head to make sure he was dead, dead, dead. Billy was a bad ass among the baddest.
This famous, curious tintype of Bonney, which I call “Mescal Billy” has also made identification of later images of him next to... well very difficult. He was cocking his head... it seems as if it was falling over and back. This put his head at an awkward angle, causing just enough foreshortening that any other photographs of him will not match exactly. And that is a very important fact in this blog... Since this is about seeing, meeting the real Billy “face to face.”
His mouth was not open because he was a slobbering fool- his jaw was dropping because he was either dead or so stoned that he was totally relaxed... but then how could he even stand? I have often mused that “Mescal Billy” was a photograph of a dead Billy- leaned against a post and posed for a frontier photographer. Just the kind of thing which was done all over the frontier when an outlaw was taken out. Billy was killed in the early hours of the morning... if a photographer was handy, he might have easily set it all up in less than seven or eight hours from the time of death. Of course, the clothes might have been put on his body to cover the blood and his gunshot wound. *************************************************************************************** There were rumors that lawmen cut off the ear of a bounty kill such as Bonney, to prove their success. Especially when so much money was at stake. Perhaps his ear had been prematurely removed, and that is why it looks like it has been STUCK BACK ON... and sticking out even farther than it normally would have. A frontier photographer would have paid serious money to have had the opportunity to capture such a person, dead or alive, and no doubt would have convinced the lawmen to put Billy back together, just for posterity. And maybe 50 bucks. And the well-distributed photo, now one of the most famous American images, no doubt helped to establish Billy's notoriety. It did not hurt Pat Garrett either. Their one-sided showdown became the event of the decade, and sprung several writing careers, and hundreds of books and scores of films. Very few of which were worth watching. Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid! Two westerners who found infamy at a single moment, one by ending a supposed crime spree. The other by being super-naturally notorious, in life and in death. **************************************************************************************** So notorious, that almost every week another person claims to have found another unpublished photograph of Billy the Kid, hopefully worth untold millions. And impressionable people fall for these epiphanies and throw good money at them. After all of this time, they still want a piece of Billy, an American icon. And yet almost all of them are just confusing illusions- like these below, and just like the original tintype of Mescal Billy. Usually routine application of simple geometry will betray them.
Well, I am sick of it. Most of these Billy-come-latelys are laughable. I have made some graphics here for illustration. There are some likenesses which could be Billy... almost, if you did not consider his small stature, or his long hair, or his jumbo ears, or his bulging buck teeth which caused him to stretch his lips to cover them. There have been so many new Billys come out that I am hesitant to share mine. But it is as convincing as any of them. People see an obscure tintype of a young fellow who might pass for a second or two as a Billy the Kid doppelganger, and they begin to see stars, excitement, and wealth. They see what they want to see. Others in their wake have no reason to argue... who knows? It makes good copy in the local newspaper...
But most of these “finds” could have been shot down in the third second of inspection... by educated eyes... And please understand, for many of these images, depending on the issue, just one of these criticisms can be the deal breaker. The biggest disqualifier was the ears. Very few people have ears so prominent as in William Bonney's photographs. They were no doubt a great source of cruel teasing as a child, and one reason he sported fairly long hair. His height had to be another sore spot... **************************************************************************************** Billy was short. Lore and legend said he was about the average woman's height- a mere five foot-three inches. He was slim, around 125 pounds, with light brown hair and blue eyes. This description immediately rules out most of the images offered on eBay claiming to be another unknown, unpublished antique image of the famous outlaw. But they are of tall guys, or black-eyed guys, and square-shouldered hunks... or strange-looking Down's syndrome individuals, and others who are definitely on the “Spectrum,” reflecting Mescal Billy's aura... and many of them are treated way too seriously. Because, as it turns out, when confronted with the Billy legend, people suspend their better judgment. Even the name Billy the Kid still has magic.
There is another, a good historic photograph of William Bonney, an authentic, accepted portrait which helps to establish what Billy the Kid really looked like, without the influence of mescal or a Colt .45 round in the heart. He was a nice looking fellow. Not exactly handsome, but the women loved him. He was not goofy, or ugly or repulsive. He was not, as some folks say, an “FLK” ( funny looking kid ). William Bonney was charming and fun. Not dangerous looking. Not even mean. I took one of the better digital reproductions of what I call “Preppy Billy” from the Internet and superimposed it Q-5 style over the “Mescal” Billy. Everyone will be relieved to know, they are the same person. But just barely. *************************************************************************************** As will become obvious, the tilting of Mescal Billy's head has caused a lot of consternation. It makes the other photograph of Billy, one younger and unquestionably CONSCIOUS... appear a little off. His nose is a little too long... his lips do not align right... his chin appears too short... because Mescal Billy's mouth is open... making his chin lower than it should be. The barely opened eyes, the open mouth, the tilted head... all contribute to an ID quagmire. *************************************************************************************** The only solution is to compare all Billy “Wanna-Be's” with the younger photo... even though it is at a slight angle. But that is still less distortion than the tintype. I have done both... *************************************************************************************** As can be seen, I applied my Q-5 technique to a bunch of “Wanna-Billy's,” which have stormed the Internet in the past years. Most of course were lacking, once computer science and math were consulted. A few were actually close, almost good for doppelgangers. Of special interest though was the one I call “Croquet Billy.”
This image surfaced a few years ago and caused quite a stir. But as interesting as the photograph was, it was never convincing. My Q-5 technique, using the whole body instead of just the face, easily shows its fallacy.
Billy was of short stature, slump shouldered, and at 125 pounds on that frame, a tiny bit on the pudgy side, whereas Croquet Billy was tall and very slender, perhaps 5ft-10 to 5ft-11 with square shoulders. When the face and especially the ears are matched up on the two, everything else is way off. The truth is the narrow face on Croquet would never have even attracted my attention as a devoted Billy hunter. But supposed computer techniques and “experts” gave the photo some credence. This was only the beginning of the ongoing “Facial Recognition” scam.
Today's average researcher is convinced that facial recognition technology is a trustworthy computer tool. Like the old Bertillon identification system, it is not. Another recent Billy appeared on the Internet for sale complete with “Face VERIFICATION,” offering a technological conclusion that it was a match with William Bonney. That conclusion was flawed as well...
AMAZINGLY, unexpectedly, the old "imposter," “Brushy Bill” Roberts fared very well, even in old age, with the best score of any of the Wanna-Billys! I had not anticipated that, and even hate to report it.
I have made fun of the folks in Hico, Texas all of my life, for claiming to be the final resting place of the “real Billy,” advertising this "fact" as if it is something to be proud of, something to promote tourism... when all they had was a lunatic who made the claim... albeit quite convincingly, which has been celebrated at local events and festivals like other towns celebrate their autumn harvest... You have your corn or cotton, or your rice, or your bluebonnets or watermelons... WE have a Victorian serial killer! *************************************************************************************** Yeah, sure... and here I am, touting my painful objectivity, adding fuel to their fire! *************************************************************************************** My assumptions have been rattled for sure. How could Brushy Bill Roberts, at best a central Texas ranch hand, and certainly no master of disguise, have been so confident, claiming to be William Bonney... even to the point of possessing Bonney's exact facial structure... down to the ears? *************************************************************************************** If he wasn't Billy, who was he? Who in the heck could do that? I doubt that he got plastic surgery... Might he have been Bonney's older brother? Or a cousin? And if Brushy Bill was indeed Billy the Kid, then what in the world was wrong with him when the “Mescal Billy” tintype was made? Too bad, we will never hear that story... something like Billy drinking tequila until he was unconscious... and his mischievous buddies propping him up and getting a photographer to capture the moment. Big joke... Which now inspires scores of goony look-alikes ad-infinitum. *************************************************************************************** But “Back to Maverick.” Some of the new Billys should definitely be considered, with the Q-5 process making them strong candidates. They are at the bottom of the graphic above. Even on a good day, Billy's face had several peculiar traits... huge ears, a very short nose, and a longish chin. These characteristics prevented him from being a classic lady-killer. But he overcame what he lacked in looks with personality... which was governed by his friendly eyes, which had died or gone AWOL in the notorious tintype. The light in his BLUE eyes are a special clue. After Q-5, or “face verification,” or facial recognition, or whatever, you still have to use your brain... Plain old sound judgment. ************************************************************************************* Billy had intelligent eyes. Perhaps a bit distrustful... but not cold eyes. Not bug eyes. Not surprised brows, or stern brows, just calm brows. He had eye-lids... which opened in a fairly average way. He did not have a blank, or poker face... he was personable, a real live con-man, and confidently looked into the camera. He was probably evaluating the photographer, as he was being captured for posterity. Was the guy just an innocent artist, or maybe a Pinkerton man? Billy was always calculating human dynamics... and jacking with those around him, even until his last breath. ************************************************************************************** To judge these newfound images, you must maintain cold objectivity. And there is the rub. I find that anyone who owns a photograph which he believes is Billy the Kid- is not endowed with this trait. Including me. **************************************************************************************
More tintypes of Billy were undoubtedly made when he was just an early teen, but already on his own, already robbing and stealing all over Arizona and New Mexico. My Wanna-Billy has a high score, and predictably scores better with the Preppy Billy rather than Mescal Billy. I think it is one of the most believable Wanna-Billys of any I have seen. And it compares well with Brushy Bill Roberts's score... as in 95% close. ***************************************************************************************** Anyway, here is my winner of the First Annual Billy the Kid Doppelganger Contest... which I am sure is no mere doppelganger, but an actual CDV (“carte de visite”) of William Bonney. So now, there are three... and two are in wonderful, useful, historic HARMONY. Something else to help wade through the Wanna Billys... which just keep coming and coming...
If you are the person trying to sell any of the previous "Wanna Billys" or these following images on eBay as Billy the Kid images, I apologize in advance for your disappointment and your loss in great fortune... But look at it this way: You had a little excitement, learned a ton in the process, and now join a long line of wishful “discoverers,” of which I am a lifelong member, who had to sharpen our minds some, but are still searching and researching the American West... and sometimes, a few of us are going to strike it rich!
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UNTANGLING the Saloon Girl Myth

This western saloon photograph is absolutely authentic, right down to the bobcat... except for one thing. Research and common sense dictate that the girl, the saloon girl in the front, she never happened. At least not like this... and that is why after a tremendous hunt over a decade, I had to fake this photo... *************************************************************************************** The myth of the Old West saloon girl being admitted in the previous blog (see below), I thought it would be interesting to try to trace back, and ask, how did Hollywood get it so wrong? *************************************************************************************** Where did our beloved, scantily clad, frontier alcohol schleppers come from? If they are a myth, what on earth were the writers and producers and directors of many hundreds of films and television shows thinking? It could not have been education, or history, or the truth... what might have been their rationale? And why did millions of Old West fans tolerate it? *************************************************************************************** Besides the fact that sex sells... ***********************************************************************************
Sure there were “saloon girls”... but in most cases far different from what has been repeatedly depicted on television and in the cinema. When we search the historical photographic record, we can not find any basis for the icon well established in our Western culture; The brazen hussy, slinking around Hollywood-created saloons, wearing as little as possible, except for a ridiculous hat topped with a colorful plume which adds to her slink... her skirt removed from her front, allowing full disclosure of her thighs, but following in tassels behind like a vapor trail.
Young women, and men, enjoy role-playing... of stereotypes which never existed. ***************************************************************************************** She hangs around the saloon, dressed to kill, chronically bored, dutifully entertaining enthusiastic cowboys, who are determined to make fast friends and end up in a bed somewhere, or anywhere, barely learning these girl's names. It was highly suggestive, sex on demand. But fees for services rendered never come up in the dialog. You were supposed to know what it was all about... if you did not, then you were probably too young to understand these things.
Little boys, who watched it all in admiration and wonder, could never understand that this was the beginning of their lifelong Hollywood acculturation, which presented women as primarily objects of sexual desire- professionals in fact, who should be waiting at a saloon near you, ready to pour you a drink, make you feel good, arouse your passion and then succumb to it as a matter of obligation. Man, would most of them be disappointed. ***************************************************************************************** Playboy magazine picked up this male-oriented cultural expectation when Westerns began to fade from the daily fare, ensuring that American boys turned into unhappy sexual tyrants in adulthood. We can never measure the negative impact these shows had on our youth and mental development. American boys grew up wondering... where were all of those beautiful, sexy girls who were so accommodating to those smelly, dirty, lucky cowboys? ***************************************************************************************** Most of us shrugged at the myth- it was fun, if not artistically amusing, even if it was as realistic as the freaks in Star Wars. Who knew? Who lived back then, so who could verify one way or another? Who could prove that these Western tarts were any more or less real in our past than those Star Wars creatures might be in our future? And so they persisted till this very day. Western reruns insure the eternal existence of the saloon girl myth, regardless of her origins in the salacious minds of Hollywood creatives who made her as American as the Statue of Liberty. ***************************************************************************************** And since there was such a dearth of historical evidence of western saloon female employees, and such a great demand to use females in western productions, it was only natural, good business, to give the public what it wanted. Besides, nobody wanted to watch prostitutes cavorting in the saloons as they actually did, taking reservations, hustling customers with not-so-subtle advertisements using innuendo unfit for children's ears. The saloon girl, whatever she had been, became the Hollywood solution, a convenient cultural amalgamation, a deliberate conflation of saloon girl, bar maid, dance hall girl, vaudeville entertainer and prostitute. And that was not only simplistic, and unrealistic, it was a slam on almost all of the women who ever worked in a saloon.
So here is the process as I understand it... how so many innocent working girls in saloons all across the West became fancy vixens of shame. The assumptions which created the Western saloon girl, which went unchallenged for nearly a century, were that since women in the Old West were fairly rare, and would have to have been crazy or desperate to find themselves in these hell towns, if they were not prostitutes when they came, they probably joined the sex-trade soon afterwards. Or they certainly hoped so. Hollywood ordained that they gladly accepted jobs in these combo bar/dance hall/brothel/opera houses and dutifully provided whatever services paid the best. Westerns perfunctorily skimmed over the cooks, maids, seamstresses, nurses, teachers and other female towns-persons... and made the saloon girl the jacke of all trades...
But what would she have looked like, this wonder girl of pleasure- how might she have presented herself? Hollywood designers could find very little evidence for a saloon girl “look,” no fashion which said, “I am your waitress and entertainment for the afternoon... let me fetch you a cigar, or a beer, or some sex.”
Saloon barmaids, and there were a few, wore aprons and bonnets or hair nets, and were sweaty from their toils.
Prostitutes usually wore very un-sexy attire, so as to not flaunt their lawlessness. They tried to keep a fairly low profile, wearing clothing which conservatively covered them from neck to toe. In the brothels they often wore large, shapeless white gowns, which looked like frilly smocks. Around town they would be hard to pick out in a crowd... except that they might have been wearing the most beautiful and expensive clothing in town.
So Hollywood turned to Vaudeville for inspiration. It was known that Vaudeville entertainers came through the larger towns regularly, and the female Vaudevillians often wore very suggestive costumes. In fact, these entertainers, professional singers, musicians, rope-jumpers, poetry reciters, and dancers, wore scandalous outfits condemned by everyone but those who paid to see them. They were wild, and colorful, and unforgettable. Here was a Pandora's box of sexy costumery.
Understand, the women who donned these outfits were amazing, hilarious, brilliant and brave professionals, and even sometimes talented, who traveled in companies well protected by male bodyguards. Nobody got near them. Money, gold and silver nuggets were thrown upon the stage, as lonely, love-struck miners and cowboys emptied their pockets in adoration... but it got them no closer to their latest sexual fantasy. These bizarre sirens of the stage, bedecked in flamboyant wigs, low-cut blouses, colorful stockings and frilly short-shorts, were untouchable, not available at any price, at least to the common folk. They may or may not have made themselves available to prominent gentlemen callers, but only ones who would lavish expensive gifts, rather than money. Their costumes were their stock and trade, not to be touched and felt and grabbed by the unwashed.
Saloon girls did not wear such things. They had to wear practical clothing. In a single night, they might have to fend off several drunks, dodge cigar ashes, dance with a dozen men, carry a half-dozen mugs of beer across the floor, many times, trying not to spill some along the way, and getting some on their dress... which had to be washable, because accidents happen. And maybe daily. And they had to constantly wear a smile, so that the customers would buy more alcohol, on which they received commissions on the sales.
Saloon girls were sales personnel. If they were not too busy, they might agree to a dance with a cowboy or two... fellows they liked, who understood that they had to pay for that pleasure too. Then at closing time they had to turn in their receipts and clean up the place after fifty drunks had trashed the place. They wore working girl clothes... and maybe some ribbons or a little jewelry to make themselves feel attractive... but they wore their hair short, to avoid beer and slobber, and their dress was only a few inches shorter than the average woman on the street. NOBODY ever saw their legs, or their chest, and certainly not any cleavage.
The very first entertainers in Western saloons were probably flamenco dancers and the guitarists and fiddlers who accompanied them. “Spanish” music was often the fare, and “Spanish” flamenco dancers were known to wear more suggestive clothing... low cut blouses, a sexy flower in their hair... a person might be able to see their calves when they twirled. Sometimes Irish music found its way into the saloon.
Later German polka music, played by “Hurdy-Gurdy” girls became the standard. A hurdy-gurdy was a German instrument, which was played by a musician in the old country while a girl danced for tips... The name became synonymous in America with “dance hall girl,” female entertainer, or anything “proper folk” imagined went on in such questionable places.
The idea that saloon girls served drinks all night and then suddenly hopped up on a stage and broke into the can-can dance is absurd. Most saloons had no stage. When they did, these dances were provided by traveling entertainers, who (usually) would not be caught dead waiting on drunks, or wrestling with them. These dances and short plays were a special treat, and not always available. But the prostitutes were, and were allowed to hang around the place, daily, as long as they behaved. It is said that they usually paid a commission to the bar owner.
Many saloon girls were just poor country girls forced into work to survive. A significant percentage fell into the sex-trade, but more ended up getting married and putting those days behind them. Out West, propriety had little to do with status. A predominance of the most famous men of the Old West were either pimps or whore-mongers. A saloon girl had little to fear, in a place where a person's reputation was enlarged by their counter-cultural behavior. ***************************************************************************************** Saloon girls were not necessarily dance hall girls. Sometimes, often times there was also no dance floor available. Besides the fact that they were often quite busy, and unable to make themselves as attractive, saloon girls were usually not the apple of the average customer's eye... *****************************************************************************************
Dance hall girls, like the ones above from Arizona, were employed at large dance halls, sometimes adjacent to saloons, but not always. These halls featured professional bands, and more refined atmosphere, and more importantly, the girls where usually more attractive, younger women, whom men were willing to pay to be next to. If they were not attractive, men in the West learned not to be that selective. They were at least, WOMEN! It was not unheard of for miners or lumberjacks or cowboys to dance with each other when women were too scarce. A woman of any kind was a treasured thing.
“Hurdy-Gurdy” or dance hall girls were usually dressed well, and had no other responsibilities... and they would dance with you if their card was not yet full. A dance card was the prepared list for the evening's music, which each girl carried, and male dancers would reserve dances with certain girls for certain songs. The men had to pay, so it was not often that a girl was all tied up by just one partner. If she was, this was the equivalent of “going steady.”
These women wore dancing gowns, often with a minimal bustle, often a nice white dress which had previously been a confirmation dress... or somebody's wedding dress. The hems were kept above the heels to prevent tripping... so ankles were barely visible. They “spruced up” these make-do ballroom dresses with ribbons and perhaps a corsage... but necklines were kept very proper... but open at the base of the neck to allow for ventilation. Those halls got terribly warm. Hair, again was kept short, or tied up to stay out of the way. Men were bad about wanting to stroke and pull it... best to keep it out of reach. ***************************************************************************************** Remember, these courageous young women were often dancing with total strangers, being held, twirled, and dragged about like rag dolls. Often times these dance partners were tipsy, or worse, and not always polite or gentle. These dance hall girls earned their money, as dancing all night took energy and some skill, and tons of patience. It was often a dance hall girl who taught a new dancer how to dance...
So, what DID they look like, those Victorian female icons of frontier fun? "Saloon girls," or bar maids, or whatever they may have been called; they may have been pretty boring looking in the beginning, compared to the Hollywood vision of them... Here are some images I have collected over the decades... and digitially restored... and colorized, to try to capture the spirit of the times.
When we consider the various women and the purposes they served in association with the Western saloon, we cannot find a single one which would have worn the sexy, fancy outfits we are accustomed to seeing in every Western. Each job had its demands, and each its suitable attire. So typically, Hollywood just stuck them all in French Can-Can costumes, and ran with it; Bar maids, saloon girls, dance hall girls, prostitutes, all the same. Imagine if every man in the same Western was dressed as a circus performer... and you might begin to fathom the silly, shallow, inexcusable absurdity. We have been brain-washed by sexist, lascivious lies.
And no wonder young American couples quit meeting one another's naive expectations... and divorce rates sky-rocketed, and homo-sexuality with them... and all of us red-blooded American males grew up believing in SALOON GIRLS, and lots of other Hollywood myths. If you are still shaking your head in disbelief, read LEGENDARY WATERING HOLES, The Saloons That Made Texas Famous, 2004, Texas A&M Press. Here several authors explore the most famous saloons in Texas, and the cultures in which they thrived... and struggled. Saloon girls are never even mentioned. You cannot find the term in the book index. According to this book, they were not even a thing.
The closest acknowledgment of any semblance of saloon girls was Chuck Parson's chapter on the Iron Front Saloon in Austin, where he compared Austin's strict written and unwritten codes about women in saloons to those of San Antonio. San Antonio was more like El Paso, as in wide open, and Jack Harris had "female drink servers" at his Vaudeville Saloon and Theater, which would have been illegal and unwanted in Austin, where saloons were proudly reserved "for men only." ************************************************************************************************
The myth of the American saloon girl is like the sun, The more we look at her, the blinder we get, and the less we can see anything. The term "Saloon Girls," in most instances, appears to have been merely a euphemism, a nice way to identify a possible prostitute without using an ugly word... because in many major cities, even by the 1880's, prostitution was frowned upon if not illegal, and any woman inside of a saloon was assumed to be a whore. Most saloons which were owned by women were in fact fronts for brothels. Ginnie Banters in Jerome, Arizona, Lottie Deno's in Jacksboro, Texas and Silver City, New Mexico, had saloons in tandem with their brothels.
There were saloon girls, but most saloons were off limits to all women... and saloon girls probably evolved over time as saloon proprietors got married and their wives helped out in the family business. Female saloon employees were predominantly drink servers, bar maids, and would probably have been insulted if someone called them a "saloon girl," which originally meant a woman involved in the sex trade. When a bunch of indignant female saloon employees banded together to change their public image in Cripple Creek, Colorado, and made public appeals, they referred to themselves as "dance hall girls."
They were working girls... actually some of the first in the country not employed in sweat shops, and proud to have jobs, even if these jobs required no small amount of humiliation. They fiercely held on to their self-respect, and resented the stereotype promoted by the newspapers and "proper" society, and demanded more respect from both. They would have been very put-out with how they have been depicted for the past one hundred years... *********************************************************************************************** Only Hollywood could have or would have ignored such a large and important demographic, all while they contrived a genre that barely existed, if at all, while making the world's oldest profession a glamorous, iconic, and ubiquitous institution in our imagined past. Read on and get an introduction to the REAL dance hall girls of the American west...
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Anatomy of a Doppelganger

Welcome to Hidetown- This time we are looking at a photograph circulating on the Internet, supposedly of Wild Bill Hickok. You can see f...