Charles “Black Bart” Bowles – The Poet Outlaw
The annals of the American West are filled with figures who embody the rugged individualism, the audacity, and the complex moral landscape of a bygone era. Among these figures stands Charles E. Bowles, better known as Black Bart, a stagecoach robber who operated with a unique blend of cunning, courtesy, and a surprising literary flair. His escapades in northern California and southern Oregon have cemented his place in the pantheon of Western outlaws, earning him the moniker "The Poet Outlaw."
Charles E. Bowles, the man behind the legend, was born in Norfolk, England, in 1829 to John and Maria Bowles. When Charles was a mere two years old, the Bowles family embarked on a journey across the Atlantic, seeking new opportunities in the burgeoning United States. They settled in Jefferson County, New York, where John Bowles purchased a farm a few miles north of Plessis Village. Young Charles received a rudimentary education, attending the local school and learning the fundamentals of reading, writing, and arithmetic.
The lure of gold and the promise of untold riches proved irresistible, and in 1849, Charles, along with his cousin David, joined the throngs of prospectors heading west to the California goldfields. After spending a winter in Missouri, they arrived in California in 1850, and started mining at the north fork of the American River, near Sacramento. The reality of gold mining, however, proved far more challenging than the romanticized tales that had fueled their dreams. The work was arduous, the competition fierce, and the rewards often meager. After two years of backbreaking labor yielded little success, Charles and David returned to their home in New York in 1852.
The call of the West, however, remained strong. Charles, along with his older brother Robert and cousin David, returned to California. Sadly, their renewed hopes were soon dashed. Both David and Robert fell ill and passed away shortly after their arrival. Charles, undeterred, persevered for two more years before finally returning east. During this period, he subtly altered the spelling of his last name from Bowles to Boles. In 1854, Charles married Mary Elizabeth Johnson, forging a bond that would endure the trials and tribulations of life. The couple eventually settled on a farm in Illinois, where they raised a family of four children, cultivating the land and building a life rooted in the values of hard work and family.
The tranquility of their rural existence was shattered by the outbreak of the Civil War. Driven by a sense of duty and patriotism, Charles enlisted in the Union Army in August 1862. He quickly rose through the ranks, demonstrating leadership qualities and a commitment to the cause. He was promoted to Sergeant the following year. His service was marked by courage and sacrifice. In May 1864, he sustained serious wounds during the Battle of Vicksburg, a pivotal engagement in the Western Theater. After a period of recovery, Charles returned to his unit, displaying remarkable resilience and unwavering dedication. He fought in the Battle of Atlanta. His bravery and meritorious service earned him brevet commissions as both second lieutenant and first lieutenant. On June 7, 1865, Charles was honorably discharged with his regiment in Washington, D.C., having served his country with distinction.
Returning to civilian life, Charles attempted to resume his farming pursuits in Decatur, Illinois. However, the allure of the West and the promise of striking it rich once again drew him westward. He ventured to Montana, hoping to capitalize on the mining opportunities that the territory offered. Along the way, he located a small mine that he worked with a friend from Missouri. But fate, it seemed, had other plans for Charles Boles. Representatives of Wells Fargo, eager to acquire the land upon which his mine was located, approached him with an offer to buy him out. Charles and his partner refused to sell, clinging to their dreams of prosperity. In response, Wells Fargo officials allegedly cut off their water supply, effectively rendering the mine unusable and forcing them to abandon their claim. Embittered and frustrated by what he perceived as a blatant act of corporate greed, Charles penned several letters to his wife, expressing his anger and vowing to take action to redress his grievances. The last letter Mary Boles received from Charles was dated August 25, 1871, from Silver Bow, Montana. After that, the letters abruptly ceased, leaving Mary to wonder what had happened to her husband.
Years passed without word from Charles, and Mary eventually came to believe that he had met his demise at the hands of hostile Native Americans. In the meantime, a new figure emerged on the California stagecoach routes: Charles Bolton. This elegantly dressed man, estimated to be in his mid-fifties, possessed a commanding presence, standing approximately 5 feet 8 inches tall, with piercing blue/grey eyes and a thick, bushy mustache. This "new" Charles was, in reality, Charles "Black Bart" Bowles, the poet outlaw.
Nearly four years after his last communication with his wife, this dapper middle-aged man embarked on his career as a stagecoach robber. On July 26, 1875, along the Copperopolis and Milton Road in Calaveras County, California, a small man, wearing a long linen duster with a flour sack with holes that had been cut for eyes over his head, and a derby, jumped out from behind a large boulder and waved a shotgun at the driver. Speaking in a deep and resonant tone, the thief politely ordered the stage driver, a man named John Shine (later a U.S. marshal and a California state senator), to throw down the strongbox. When it appeared that the stage driver was hesitating, the robber said: “If he dares to shoot, give him the solid volley, boys.” Looking around quickly, Shine noticed several rifle barrels pointed at him from the nearby bushes and quickly threw down the strongbox. In the meantime, a woman offered to surrender her purse, but the bandit declined, saying that he only wanted the Wells Fargo shipment.
As the driver and the passengers looked on, the outlaw hacked open the box and removed several bags of gold coins and a few express packages before fleeing the scene. Afterward, John Shine went to recover the empty strongbox. Upon examining the area, he discovered that the “men with rifles” were actually carefully rigged sticks. The man soon to be known as “Black Bart” had committed his first robbery, which netted him $160.
His next robbery occurred on December 28, 1875, when he stopped the stage from North San Juan to Marysville, California. Like the first robbery, other men were said to have been hiding in the bushes. However, it was later found that the “rifles” used in the heist were nothing more than sticks wedged in the brush. On June 2, 1876, he robbed another, taking the Wells Fargo Box and mail five miles north of Cottonwood, California
The fourth robbery, on August 3, 1877, was the first time that he identified himself as “Black Bart” and a poet. Stopping the stage between Point Arena and Duncan’s Mills, California, wearing the same dress as he had in the past, he once again broke open the strongbox and made off with $300. This time, however, he left behind a note:
I’ve labored long and hard for bread
For honor and for riches
But on my corns too long you’ve tread
You fine-haired sons of bitches.
It was signed Black Bart – The PO8
On his fourth robbery, which occurred almost a year later on July 25, 1878, he also left a note:
Here I lay me down to sleep
To await the coming morrow
Perhaps success, perhaps defeat
And everlasting sorrow
I’ve labored long and hard for bread
For honor and for riches
But on my corns too long you’ve tread
You fine-haired sons of bitches.
Let come what will, I’ll try it on
My condition can’t be worse
And if there’s money in that box
’Tis money in my purse.
It was signed Black Bart – The PO8
Although there would be no more poems, his signature bank robberies would continue through November 1883 as he made at least 28 stage robberies over the lifetime of his outlaw “career”. Apparently, Charles had found a successful way to take his revenge against Wells Fargo.
His signature became leaving behind a poem at the scene of his crimes, signed "Black Bart, the PO8." These verses, often humorous and occasionally poignant, revealed a man of surprising literary sensibility, a stark contrast to the image of a hardened criminal. This juxtaposition of outlawry and poetry cemented his image as a unique and intriguing figure in the history of the American West. The story of Charles “Black Bart” Bowles – The Poet Outlaw is now firmly entrenched in the popular imagination.
On November 3, 1883, he returned to the area of his first stage robbery near Copperopolis, California. The stage was being driven by Reason McConnell and had only one passenger, a man named Jimmy Rolleri. As the coach slowed to climb the ridge, Jimmy jumped off, hoping to do a little hunting. Just before the stage came to the crest of the hill, Charles “Black Bart” Bowles – The Poet Outlaw appeared out of the brush and ordered McConnell to throw down the strongbox. This time, however, the box was bolted to the floor of the stagecoach. After ordering McConnell to unhitch the team and take them over the crest of the hill, Black Bart went to work on the strongbox with an ax. After retrieving a heavy sack of gold and a bundle of mail, Jimmy appeared out of the bushes, at which time Charles began to flee. McConnell then fired two shots at him and missed, but when Jimmy fired off a shot, a bullet hit Bart in the hand, forcing him to drop the mail, but he got away with the sack of gold. Though Bart had made his getaway, he dropped a handkerchief during his flight that had a distinctive laundry mark. This would be the end for Charles Boles. Detectives used the handkerchief to track him down to a laundry house in San Francisco and eventually to Black Bart.
Wells Fargo only pressed charges on the final robbery, and Charles “Black Bart” Bowles – The Poet Outlaw was convicted and sentenced to six years in San Quentin Prison. He was released after four years for good behavior in January 1888. When he was released, reporters swarmed around him and asked if he was going to rob any more stagecoaches. “No, gentlemen,” he replied, smiling, “I’m through with crime.” He then lived in the Nevada House in San Francisco before disappearing to the Visalia House hotel in Visalia, California, in February 1888. Dogged by Wells Fargo, he was tracked there but had already left. He was last seen on February 28, 1888.
Black Bart’s stage robbery career lasted just over eight years. During this time, he was described as always being polite, never using foul language, never stealing from the passengers, and though he always brandished a shotgun, he never used it. In the meantime, Mary Boles listed herself in the city directory as the widow of Charles E. Boles in 1892.
What happened to Black Bart remains unknown. A New York newspaper allegedly printed an obituary for Charles E. Boles, a Civil War veteran, in 1917. Was this Black Bart? If so, he would have been 88 years old. Others believe he may have returned to some of the old mining camps. One legend says that he returned to his career of robbing stagecoaches until Wells Fargo offered him a pension of $200 a month if he would leave their vehicles alone. Wells Fargo has denied this, but the legend persists.
The enigmatic figure of Charles “Black Bart” Bowles – The Poet Outlaw continues to capture the imagination, reminding us of the complexities and contradictions that defined the American West. His story serves as a testament to the enduring power of legend and the allure of the outlaw spirit.