~ December 27, 1879 • Black Hills Weekly Pioneer ~


Pursued by the Truly Vicious in and About Deadwood and Vicinity.

A Little Incident that Fully Illustrates the Wild and Reckless West.

Deviltry in All its Degrees.


A terrible fight took place Monday morning between two men in a saloon on Sherman Street, whisky being the cause of the disturbance. One of the parties had his head cut most frightfully, while the other had the end of his nose chawed full of holes. The entertainment lasted about ten minutes, when both parties desisted for want of wind to continue their sport.


A very lively shooting affair took place at the foot of Main Street Monday morning about daylight between some four or five men. One of them was shooting form the balcony of Gaar’s building, another protected himself as best he could in the corner of a log building, while on the other side of the street their antagonists were stowed away behind a wagon. About a dozen shots were fired, then it suddenly ceased and the parties walked away without even uttering a word. During the day an attempt was made by the officers to discover who did the shooting, but nothing could be learned as to who they were or the cause of the bombardment. It leaked out that two of the parties were wounded, but how badly was not learned.


A very characteristic incident of life in the wild and reckless west occurred in one of our popular saloons Monday afternoon. A party of four were playing poker, and the bets were running high. A couple of the boys got to bucking at one another and a huge pile of chips and greenbacks were soon piled up between them. At last one called the other and he showed three queens.

The other quietly turned over three kings. “Take the money,” said the patron of the ladies, as quietly as though asking the other to take a drink. The man of many kings reached over to rake in the pot, when one of the other players interfered and claimed that one of the kings in the hand of the winner belonged to him, unless there were five in the pack, as he laid down two of them when the heavy betting began. He of the queens rose up quietly and pulled out a murderous-looking bulldog revolver, which he placed in unpleasant proximity to the other’s head, and simply remarked, “Drop it.” He dropped it, you bet, and then without another word the game went on, as though nothing had happened.


Some one not having the fear of the law before his eyes, or else being pressed by hunger, broke into the cabin of Charles Brewerung and David Newhall, last Sunday afternoon between one and three o’clock, and got away with the following described articles, to-wit: Five pounds flour, 10 pounds bacon, 1 can yeast-powder, 1 box soda, 3 pounds coffee, 6 pounds salt, 1 box pepper, 1 box condensed milk, 1/8 of a deer, 1 silver watch. This list can be relied upon as absolutely correct, as it was handed in by one of the victims. The only thing surprising is that the unhung wretch did not pack off the matches, unless it was that there was something unpleasantly suggestive in the odor of the brimstone. The thief is known, but they don’t feel able to prove it up against him.


It was Witches’ Sunday, last Sunday, that’s dead sure; for there was more deviltry going on that night than there has been for a month before—that is in any one night. About 9 o’clock Henry Edelman, a ranchman, stopped in front of a gin-mill in Elizabeth-town and laid a buffalo robe on the sidewalk. He then opened the door, stuck his head in and inquired for someone. Receiving an answer, he turned around to pick up his bundle, and lo, it was not; and is still not to an alarming extent. The thief who corralled the outfit was a slick one.


George Wagner felt aggrieved at Felix Rooney and swore out a warrant against him, charging Felix with assaulting him in a violent manner, with an application of sole leather. The case was called before Justice Clark, Monday, and revealed the fact that Rooney simply put him out of his cabin and would not let him pack off a sack-full of provisions. After hearing both sides of the case the justice discharged Rooney. It was a sad sight to see his honor trying to regain his wonted cheerfulness as he thought of the costs—he didn’t get.

Julius Burns had J. W. O’Brien arrested yesterday for an assault, and taken before Justice Clark. It seems that Burns wanted to see the fight between the icepick thumper and the nose-chawer, tried to crowd in and O’Brien pushed him back. Justice Clark could see no assault in the act and discharged O’Brien. It was an action worthy the noblest magistrate that ever ruled in Rome’s whitest day, and shows the justice capable of rising above mere self, for the food of the republic. He lost his costs a second time in one day. Can the effete east or downtrodden south produce as illustrious an example?


There were a few mad merchants in Deadwood Monday, not because of what they had lost, but because they allowed John Hanor to walk into them on the old confidence game of representing an eastern house and borrowing money on the strength of it, which John did very successfully in several instances. He was taken before Justice Clark yesterday, but waived an examination and will await the action of the grand jury.


George Olley, who was arrested for stealing money from a trunk in Central, an account of which has already been published in the Pioneer, was brought back from Fort Meade and turned over to the civil authorities Monday. He was taken before Justice Clark, but waived an examination, and will attract the attention of the gigantic intellect of the grand jury.

~ December 27, 1879 • Black Hills Weekly Pioneer ~

Thinks It Only A Plain Jamboree.

The Duluth (Minn.) Tribune says: The third military court-martial of Major Reno, which has been going on out at Fort Meade seems to be a trial of that officer on a lot of trumped-up charges by other officers, that are too trivial and silly to be credited to a pack of monkeys. Reno, to be sure, got on a jamboree and, as his accusers have doubtless done on a score of occasions themselves, succeeded in making a magnificent ass of himself, and did several little things unbecoming an officer and a gentleman—nothing more. Though not without sin themselves, the shoulder (under) strappers seem to deem it their religious duty to pitch into poor Reno on the slightest provocation in order to thrust him out of the army. Reno is far from perfection, no doubt, but in the present instance it is clear to the average outside observer that his accusers are making a pack of persecuting fools of themselves. Pull down your pinafores, lieutenants, etc., and go to your quarters.


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