The Early Outlaw

By Emerson Hough in 1905

Before the romanticized era of gunslingers and stagecoach robberies on the wild Western frontier, a lesser-known, yet equally untamed period existed. The desperados of the late 19th century might well have taken notes from their predecessors, those who carved a brutal existence from the dense forests and waterways of the Mississippi Valley. This was a time of raw expansion, as the burgeoning Southern states spilled over the Appalachian Mountains, driven by an insatiable hunger to explore and settle the middle and lower reaches of the American West.

Adventurers, opportunists, and outcasts alike poured down the ancient river routes and forged treacherous "traces" through the untamed lands of Kentucky, Tennessee, and Mississippi, their paths ultimately leading towards the promise of Louisiana and the vast expanse of Texas. The flatboat and keelboat era reigned supreme on the mighty rivers, facilitating a largely transient population, perpetually migrating and undeniably bold. Arguably, this population contained a higher proportion of individuals with criminal intent than any subsequent Western migration could claim.

The landscape of this era was defined by its lack of infrastructure. There were no organized systems of common carriers, no established or dependable roads, and certainly no concept of a formal highway system. The ambitious National Road, intended to connect Wheeling westward across Ohio, faltered and stalled midway through Indiana, leaving the wilderness to reign supreme for hundreds of miles in every direction, demanding that each individual fend for themselves, and survive by their own wits and strength.

Unsurprisingly, this untamed wilderness became a breeding ground for lawlessness. Flatboats laden with goods were routinely ambushed and plundered, caravans of hopeful travelers were subjected to violent attacks, and solitary wayfarers, journeying on horseback through the dense forests, were frequently waylaid, robbed, and murdered. The narrative of this early period paints a stark picture of the first frontiersmen as hardened individuals, far from innocent and deeply versed in the ways of crime. The article, "The Early Outlaw", explores the roots of lawlessness in the American West.

Approximately 20 miles downstream from the confluence of the Wabash River, in what is now the state of Illinois, existed a notorious haven for robbers, a place that seemed to have sprung directly from the pages of a sensational dime novel: the infamous Cave-in-the-Rock, nestled directly into the bank of the Ohio River. This imposing cavern boasted an entrance that soared to a height of approximately 25 feet, extending deep into the bluff for a distance of 200 feet, with a considerable width of 80 feet. The floor of this naturally formed cavern was remarkably flat, making it readily adaptable for use as a habitation. Ascending from this lower cave, a connecting aperture led to a second cavern, situated directly above it within the bluff wall. These two natural retreats, originally intended for wild animals, proved irresistibly attractive to the wild men who roamed the early frontier.

For a considerable period, this cave served as the dwelling place of the infamous robber Samuel Mason, who instilled terror into the flatboat trade along the Ohio River around the year 1800. Mason was not merely a common thief; he was a robber king, a man of imposing stature and possessing a sharp intellect. He was joined by his two sons and a collection of other hardened individuals, forming a band formidable enough to attack almost any group comprising the boat companies of the time or the typical family traversing the forest-covered country of the Ohio Valley, whether mounted on horseback or on foot. The exploits of "The Early Outlaw" highlight the dangers faced by settlers.

For several years, Mason reigned supreme, killing and plundering at will. However, as travel along the Ohio River became increasingly common, he relocated his operations to the more sparsely populated region south of the river. He began preying upon travelers along the old "Natchez and Nashville Trace," a crucial roadway of the South during a period when Indian lands were just beginning to open up to early settlers. Lower Tennessee and virtually all of Mississippi became his new hunting grounds, and his name became synonymous with fear, just as it had been along the Ohio River. The governor of Mississippi, desperate to restore order, offered a reward for Mason’s capture, whether dead or alive, but for an extended period, he evaded all attempts at apprehension.

Ultimately, as is often the case, treachery played a pivotal role in bringing this bold and dangerous man to justice. Two members of his own gang, motivated by the promise of reward, betrayed their chief. Seizing an opportune moment, they crept up behind him and struck him in the head with a tomahawk. To provide proof of their deed, they severed his head and carried it to the seat of government, the town of Washington. However, their moment of triumph was short-lived, as they were recognized and apprehended. They were subsequently tried and executed, effectively bringing an end to the Mason Gang, one of the earliest and most infamous bands of desperados in the American West. "The Early Outlaw" details the fall of Samuel Mason.

Counterfeiters, too, played a significant role in the early frontier’s criminal landscape. One of the first and most notable of these was Sturdivant, who resided in lower Illinois, near the Ohio River, during the first quarter of the 19th century. Sturdivant was more than just a counterfeiter; he was also something of a robber king, capable of summoning 100 armed men at a moment’s notice with a simple blow of his horn. Ostensibly, he presented himself as a steady farmer, living comfortably with a sizable staff of servants and tenants. However, his most trusted associates resided elsewhere. He maintained a network of confederates throughout the Middle West and South, and his operation produced more counterfeit money than any before him.

Sturdivant always demanded a fixed price for his illicit currency, typically $16 for $100 in counterfeit bills. The laxity of currency regulations at the time allowed him to find a ready market for his product, with many willing to gamble on its acceptance. He implemented strict rules for his confederates, forbidding them from passing counterfeit bills in their own states or engaging in any activity that might attract the attention of local law enforcement. They were also required to be particularly cautious within their own counties. Sturdivant presented himself as a respectable businessman, solely motivated by profit, and his meticulous approach allowed him to evade capture by the law, even though his farm was widely suspected as the source of the spurious money. Ultimately, he was "regulated" by the local citizens, who rose up and forced him to leave the region, an early example of lynch law in the West. The results were immediate and effective, as counterfeiting in the area ceased.

Another notorious desperado of these early days was "Big Harpe," a name used to distinguish him from his brother and partner in crime, "Little Harpe." Big Harpe terrorized a wide swath of the Ohio Valley, making travel exceedingly dangerous for anyone passing through. The chronicles of Henry Howe vividly describe the events surrounding his life:

"In the fall of the year 1801 or 1802, a company consisting of two men and three women arrived in Lincoln County, Kentucky, and encamped about a mile from the present town of Stanford. The appearance of the individuals composing this party was wild and rude in the extreme. The one who seemed to be the leader of the band was above the ordinary stature of men. His frame was bony and muscular, his chest broad, his limbs gigantic. His clothing was uncouth and shabby, his exterior weather-beaten and dirty, indicating continual exposure to the elements and designating him as one who dwelt far from the habitations of men and mingled not in the courtesies of civilized life. His countenance was bold, ferocious, and exceedingly repulsive from its strongly marked expression of villainy. His face, which was larger than ordinary, exhibited the lines of ungovernable passion, and the complexion announced that the human breast’s ordinary feelings were extinguished in him. Instead of the healthy hue indicating social emotions, there was a livid, unnatural redness resembling that of dried and lifeless skin. His eye was fearless, steady but also artful, and audacious, glaring upon the beholder with unpleasant fixedness and brilliance, like that of a ravenous animal gloating on its prey. He wore no covering on his head, and the natural protection of thick, coarse hair of a fiery redness, uncombed and matted, gave evidence of long exposure to the rudest visitations of the sunbeam and the tempest. He was armed with a rifle and a broad leather belt, drawn closely around his waist, supported by a knife and a tomahawk. He seemed, in short, an outlaw, destitute of all the nobler sympathies of human nature and prepared at all points of assault or defense. The other man, who led the party, was smaller in size than him but was similarly armed, having the same suspicious exterior and a countenance equally fierce and sinister. The females were coarse and wretchedly attired."

"These men stated, in answer to the inquiry of the inhabitants, that their name was Harpe and that they were emigrants from North Carolina. They remained at their encampment for the greater part of two days and a night, spending the time in rioting, drunkenness, and debauchery. When they left, they took the road leading to Green River. The day succeeding their departure, a report reached the neighborhood that a young gentleman of wealth from Virginia named Lankford had been robbed and murdered on what was then called and is still known as the “Wilderness Road,” which runs through the Rock-castle Hills. Suspicion immediately fixed upon the Harpes as the perpetrators and Captain Ballenger, at the head of a few bold and resolute men, started in pursuit.

"They experienced great difficulty in following their trail, owing to a heavy fall of snow, which obliterated most of their tracks, but finally came upon them while encamped in a bottom on Green River, near the spot where the town of Liberty now stands. At first, they made a show of resistance, but upon being informed that if they did not immediately surrender, they would be shot down, they yielded themselves prisoners. They were brought back to Stanford and there examined. Among their effects were found some fine linen shirts marked with the initials of Lankford. One had been pierced by a bullet and was stained with blood. They had also a considerable sum of money in gold. It was afterward ascertained that this was the kind of money Lankford had with him. The evidence against them was thus conclusive: they were confined in the Stanford jail but were sent for trial to Danville, where the district court was in session. Here, they broke jail and succeeded in making their escape." "The Early Outlaw" recounts the escapades of the Harpe brothers.

"They were next heard of in Adair County, near Columbia. In passing through the country, they met a small boy, the son of Colonel Trabue, with a pillowcase of meal or flour, an article they probably needed. This boy, it is supposed they robbed and then murdered, as he was never afterward heard of. Many years afterward, human bones answering the size of Colonel Trabue’s son at the time of his disappearance were found in a sinkhole near the place where he was said to have been murdered."

"The Harpes still shaped their course toward the mouth of Green River, marking their path by murders and robberies of the most horrible and brutal character. The district of the country through which they passed was very thinly settled at that time, so their outrages went unpunished. They seemed inspired by the deadliest hatred against the whole human race, and such was their implacable misanthropy that they were known to kill where there was no temptation to rob. One of their victims was a little girl, found at some distance from her home, whose tender age and helplessness would have been protected against any but incarnate fiends. The last dreadful act of barbarity, which led to their punishment and expulsion from the country, exceeded in atrocity all the others."

"Assuming the guise of Methodist preachers, they obtained lodgings one night at a solitary house on the road. Mr. Stagall, the master of the house, was absent, but they found his wife and children and a stranger, who had stopped for the night like themselves. Here, they conversed and made inquiries about the two noted Harpes, who were represented as prowling about the country."

"When they retired to rest, they managed to secure an ax, which they carried into their chamber. In the dead of night, they crept softly downstairs and assassinated the whole family, together with the stranger, in their sleep, and then set fire to the house and made their escape. When Stagall returned, he found no wife to welcome him, no home to receive him. Distracted with grief and rage, he turned his horse’s head from the smoldering ruins and repaired to the house of Captain John Leeper. Leeper was one of the most powerful men in his day and fearless as powerful. Collecting four or five well-armed men well armed, they mounted and started pursuing vengeance. It was agreed that Leeper should attack ‘Big Harpe,’ leaving ‘Little Harpe’ to be disposed of by Stagall. The others were to hold themselves in readiness to assist Leeper and Stagall, as circumstances might require."

"This party found the women belonging to the Harpes, attending to their little camp by the roadside; the men having gone aside into the woods to shoot an unfortunate traveler, of the name of Smith, who had fallen into their hands, and whom the women had begged might not be dispatched before their eyes. It was this halt that enabled the pursuers to overtake them. The women immediately gave the alarm, and the miscreants mounting their horses, which were large, fleet, and powerful, fled in separate directions. Leeper singled out the ‘Big Harpe’ and soon left them far behind, being better mounted than his companions. ‘Little Harpe’ succeeded in escaping from Stagall, and he, with the rest of his companions, turned and followed on the track of Leeper and the ‘Big Harpe.’ After a chase of about nine miles, Leeper came within gunshot of the latter and fired."

The ball entered his thigh, passed through it, and penetrated his horse, and both fell. Harpe’s gun escaped from his hand and rolled some eight or ten feet down the bank. Reloading his rifle, Leeper ran to where the wounded outlaw lay weltering in his blood and found him with one thigh broken and the other crushed beneath his horse. Leeper rolled the horse away and set Harpe in an easier position. The robber begged that he might not be killed. Leeper told him that he had nothing to fear from him but that Stagall was coming up and could probably not be restrained. Harpe appeared very much frightened at hearing this and implored Leeper to protect him. In a few moments, Stagall appeared and, without uttering a word, raised his rifle and shot Harpe through the head. They then severed the head from the body and stuck it upon a pole where the road crosses the creek, from which the place was then named and is yet called Harpe’s Head. Thus perished one of the boldest and most noted freebooters ever appearing in America.

Save courage, he was without one redeeming quality, and his death freed the country from a terror that had long paralyzed its boldest spirits.

"The ‘Little Harpe’ afterward joined the band of Samuel Mason and became one of his most valuable assistants in the dreadful trade of robbery and murder. He was one of the two bandits that, tempted by the reward for their leader’s head, murdered him and eventually suffered the penalty of the law as previously related."

Thus, the first quarter of the 19th century on the frontier was undoubtedly a time of great turmoil. The subsequent decade, ending around 1840, presented an even greater instance of outlawry, one of the most famous in American history, though largely forgotten today. This involved the criminal mastermind John A. Murrell, widely known as the great Western land pirate, whose ambition and ruthlessness surpassed even the most daring pirates of the seas.

Murrell was a man of exceptional energy and intellect. He was not merely a brute but a shrewd, cunning, and scheming individual, willing to commit any crime imaginable, yet driven by an ambition that extended beyond simple personal gain. He commanded a vast gang of robbers and murderers, estimated to number nearly 2,000 men, scattered throughout the South below the Ohio River. These men lived among and mingled with their fellow citizens, remaining unknown and unsuspected for years. Some were even said to have come from the most prominent families in the land, and tales, perhaps embellished, continue to surface of death-bed confessions from prominent Southern figures admitting to their past association with Murrell’s gang, followed by repentance and reform. One such individual was rumored to be a prominent Kentucky lawyer. The early outlaw John Murrell’s story is a chilling reminder of the darkness that existed in the American West.

Murrell and his confederates engaged in a wide range of criminal activities. While the lower ranks, known as the "strikers," were responsible for stealing horses and mules, the members of the Grand Council reserved themselves for the more lucrative crimes of murdering travelers and settlers believed to possess money, as well as large-scale slave stealing operations.

Murrell systematized the theft of slaves, the collection of runaway rewards, the subsequent re-stealing and re-selling of the slaves, and the eventual killing of the slaves to eliminate evidence, creating a system unparalleled in the criminal annals of the country. However, even this was not enough for this audacious outlaw. His ultimate goal was to overthrow the entire structure of organized society, using the black population as a means to achieve his ends. One account of his life details a plan for a massive slave uprising across the South.

Similar to other planned black insurrections, such as the Turner Insurrection in Virginia, Murrell’s enterprise was on a far grander scale. The plan called for a simultaneous uprising throughout the South on Christmas Day of 1835. The black population was to unite and attack the settlements, killing all the white residents on the farms where they worked. They would then be placed under the command of Murrell’s lieutenants, who would instruct them to plunder stores, murder white merchants, and seize white women. The banks in all Southern towns would be seized and become the property of Murrell and his associates. In one fell swoop, the entire system of government, painstakingly established in the fierce wilderness along the old Southern "traces," would be obliterated, leaving the land without law and placing the fruits of organized society in the hands of a band of outlaws. This stands as a chilling example of the razor-thin line separating society and savagery.

Murrell’s downfall came at the hands of his supposed confederate, Virgil A. Stewart, a spy operating under the alias Hues, whose testimony ultimately led to the dismantling of the largest and most dangerous band of outlaws in the country’s history. However, Stewart himself was driven by vanity and a desire for notoriety. Trusting Stewart, Murrell recounted the details of his life, which Stewart later used as evidence against him. While Stewart’s account may contain inaccuracies, it remains the most comprehensive record available today.

"I was born in Middle Tennessee," Murrell himself stated. "My parents had not much property, but they were intelligent people, and my father was an honest man I expected and tried to raise me honest, but I think none the better of him for that. My mother was of pure grit; she learned me and all her children to steal as soon as we could walk and would hide for us whenever she could. At ten years old, I was not a bad hand. The first good haul I made was from a peddler who lodged at my father’s house one night."

"I began to look after larger spoils and ran several fine horses. By the time I was 20, I had begun to acquire considerable character and concluded to go off and do my speculation where I was not known and go on a larger scale, so I began to see the value of having friends in this business. I made several associates; I had been acquainted with some old hands for a long time, who had given me the names of some royal fellows between Nashville and Tuscaloosa and between Nashville and Savannah in the state of Georgia and many other places. I and a fellow named Crenshaw gathered four good horses and started for Georgia. We got in company with a young South Carolinian just before we reached Cumberland Mountain, and Crenshaw soon knew all about his business. He had been to Tennessee to buy a drove of hogs, but when he got there, pork was dearer than he calculated, and he declined to purchase. We concluded he was a prize. Crenshaw winked at me; I understood his idea. Crenshaw had traveled the road before, but I never had; we had traveled several miles on the mountain when we passed near a great precipice; just before we passed it, Crenshaw asked me for my whip, which had a pound of lead in the butt; I handed it to him, and he rode up by the side of the South Carolinian, and gave him a blow on the side of the head, and tumbled him from his horse; we lit from our horses and fingered his pockets; we got $1,262. Crenshaw said he knew of a place to hide him, gathered him under the arms and I by his feet, conveyed him to a deep crevice in the brow of the precipice and tumbled him into it; he went out of sight. We then tumbled in his saddle and took his horse with us, which was worth $200. We turned our course for South Alabama and sold our horse for a good price. We frolicked for a week or more and were the highest larks you ever saw. We commenced sporting and gambling and lost every cent of our money."

"We were forced to resort to our profession for a second raise. We stole a black man and pushed for Mississippi. We had promised him that we would conduct him to a free state if he would let us sell him once as we went on our way; we also agreed to give him part of the money. We sold him for $600, but when we went to start, the man seemed to be very uneasy and appeared to doubt our coming back for him as we had promised. We lay in a creek bottom, not far from the place where we had sold the slave, all the next day, and after dark, we went to the china tree in the lane where we were to meet Tom; he had been waiting for some time. He mounted his horse, and we pushed with him a second time. We rode twenty miles that night to the house of a friendly speculator."

"I had seen him in Tennessee and had given him several lifts. He gave me his place of residence so that I might find him when I was passing. He is quite rich and one of the best kind of fellows. Our horses were fed as much as they would eat, and two of them were foundered the next morning."

"We were detained for a few days, and during that time, our friend went to a little village in the neighborhood and saw the slave advertised, with a description of the two men of whom he had been purchased and with mention of them as suspicious personages. It was rather squally times, but any port in a storm; we took the slave that night to the bank of a creek that runs by the farm of our friend, and Crenshaw shot him through the head. We took out his entrails and sunk him in the creek; our friend furnished us with one fine horse, and we left him our foundered horses. We went through the Choctaw and Chickasaw Nations and then to Williamson County in this state. We should have made a fine trip if we had cared for all we got."

"I had become a considerable libertine, and when I returned home, I spent a few months rioting in all the luxuries of forbidden pleasures with the girls of my acquaintance. My stock of cash was soon gone, and I put to my shift for more. I commenced with horses and ran several from the adjoining counties. I had got associated with a young man who had professed to be a preacher among the Methodists and a sharper he was; he was as slick on the tongue as goose-grease. I took my first lessons in divinity from this young preacher. He was highly respected by all who knew him and well calculated to please; he first put me in the notion of preaching to aid me in my speculations."

"I got into difficulty about a mare that I had taken and was imprisoned for nearly three years. I shifted it from court to court but was at last found guilty and whipped. During my confinement, I read the scriptures and became a good judge of theology. I had not neglected the criminal laws for many years before that time. When they turned me loose, I was prepared for anything; I wanted to kill all but those of my own grit, and I will die by the side of one of them before I will desert."

"My next speculation was in the Choctaw region; my brother and I stole two fine horses and made our way into this country. We got in with an old black man and his wife and three sons to go off with us to Texas and promised them that if they would work for us one year after we got there, we would let them go free and told them many fine stories. The old man became suspicious that we were going to sell him and grew quite contrary, so we landed one day by the side of an island, and I requested him to go with me around the point of the island to hunt a good place to catch some fish. After we were