Ferd Patterson – Living and Dying by the Gun
Ferdinand "Ferd" J. Patterson, a name that echoes through the annals of the American West, embodies the turbulent spirit of a bygone era. He was a figure cloaked in contradictions – a "dandy" gambler, a skilled gunfighter, and a man whose life was punctuated by violence and bloodshed. His story unfolds across the landscapes of California, Idaho, and Oregon, a journey that ultimately culminated in a fatal encounter in Washington Territory. Ferd Patterson was a man who lived and died by the gun, leaving behind a legacy that continues to fascinate and intrigue.
Born in Texas in 1821, the early life of Ferd Patterson remains shrouded in mystery. Few details have survived the passage of time, leaving historians to piece together fragments of his past. However, accounts suggest that even in his youth, Patterson displayed a rebellious streak and a volatile temper, traits that would later define his infamous persona.
The late 1850s marked Patterson’s arrival in California, coinciding with the waning years of the Gold Rush. Standing over six feet tall and weighing in excess of 200 pounds, he was an imposing figure, further accentuated by his fiery red hair and piercing blue eyes. Patterson cultivated the image of a "dandy," meticulously crafting his appearance to project an air of sophistication and confidence. He favored cashmere shirts, silk vests, and a long black frock coat trimmed with fur, attire that set him apart from the rough-and-tumble miners who populated the goldfields. Completing his ensemble was an ivory-handled Colt .31 caliber revolver and a matching Bowie knife, constant reminders of the lethal skills he possessed.
In 1859, Ferd Patterson ventured into the mining camp of Waldo, Oregon, a bustling hub fueled by the promise of riches. His refined appearance and demeanor made it immediately apparent that he had no intention of engaging in the backbreaking labor of mining. Instead, he gravitated towards the saloons and gaming tables, where he quickly established himself as a formidable gambler. The local miners, ill-equipped to match his skill and cunning, soon found themselves losing their hard-earned fortunes to the charismatic stranger. Tales circulated of Patterson’s ruthlessness, including an incident where he allegedly gunned down two miners during a heated argument over a card game, solidifying his reputation as a dangerous man.
Patterson’s actions inevitably drew the attention of George Wells, the local lawman and a former Texas Ranger. Wells, a man of experience and resolve, represented the forces of order in a lawless frontier. The inevitable clash between the two men occurred one afternoon in front of a saloon. An argument escalated into a violent confrontation, resulting in an exchange of gunfire. Wells managed to wound Patterson in the side, but even as he fell, Patterson continued to fire, striking Wells in the arm. Both men survived the encounter, although Wells was left with a permanently disabled arm. In the aftermath of the shootout, Patterson was forced to leave Waldo, his reputation preceding him.
Undeterred, Patterson continued his life of gambling and gunfighting, traversing the landscapes of Oregon and California. He frequented the less savory establishments of San Francisco, where he honed his skills and further solidified his image as a man not to be trifled with. Despite the inherent dangers of his lifestyle, no one seemed capable of gaining the upper hand on him.
The year 1861 found Ferd Patterson aboard the steamer Panama, en route from San Francisco to Portland, Oregon. The passenger manifest included a contingent of individuals described as "sporting men and women," with Patterson seemingly recognized as their leader. Once the ship had set sail, Patterson and his companions seized control of the saloon and cardroom, transforming it into a floating gambling den. They introduced games like three-card monte, enticing passengers to wager their money. Patterson was accompanied by a woman in her late twenties, who was also adept at cards, further bolstering their operation.
As the Panama anchored at Astoria, Oregon, the group indulged in a night of revelry that stretched into the early hours of the morning. Complaints from other passengers regarding their boisterous behavior and profane language reached Captain G.W. Staples. The Captain politely requested that the group cease their disruptive activities. Patterson responded with insults, prompting the Captain to threaten him with irons. The group dispersed, but not before Patterson vowed to settle the matter with the Captain upon their arrival in Portland.
Upon reaching Portland, Patterson, still seething with anger, tracked down Captain Staples to the lobby of the Pioneer Hotel. Without hesitation, he drew his weapon and fatally shot the Captain. Patterson surrendered to a policeman who arrived on the scene after hearing the gunshot. He was arrested and tried for murder, but to the astonishment of many, a local jury acquitted him.
Following the trial, Patterson reportedly commented on the incident, stating, "Guns were drawn, shots exchanged, he’s dead, I’m not – and the court found the killing justified." His words reflected a cold detachment and a belief in his own invincibility.
However, Patterson’s legal troubles in Portland were far from over. In another incident, he accused his girlfriend of flirting with other men. Enraged, he used his Bowie knife to cut off a large lock of her hair, inadvertently taking a piece of her scalp as well. Responding to the woman’s screams, a policeman entered the house and arrested Patterson. Once again, he found himself in the custody of Portland authorities.
He was brought to trial, but once again, he was acquitted. Patterson later justified his actions by saying, "When a woman’s mine, she’s mine – and she’d better not blink her eyelashes at anything else in pants. This one – never mind her name – did a bit of blinking." His possessive and violent tendencies were on full display, revealing a disturbing aspect of his character.
In 1863, Ferd Patterson made his way to Idaho City, Idaho, a thriving mining camp nestled in the mountains outside of Boise. He was pleased to discover a significant population of Southerners who shared his fervent hatred of the "damn Yankees." This environment fostered his rebellious spirit and set the stage for further conflicts. Here, he would repeatedly clash with Boise County Sheriff Sumner Pinkham.
On one occasion, Patterson and his associates unlawfully seized control of a brewery. The owner appealed to Sheriff Pinkham for assistance. When Pinkham entered the brewery, he was met with fierce resistance. Pinkham and Patterson immediately recognized each other as ideological adversaries. Patterson represented the Southern cause and a disregard for the law, while Pinkham embodied Northern principles and a commitment to justice. In the end, Pinkham prevailed, and Patterson was arrested.
The following year, Pinkham ran for re-election as Boise County Sheriff. The election was a bitter contest between Democratic secessionists and Republican candidates. Pinkham, an outspoken supporter of the Union, was defeated by A.O. Bowen.
As the ballots were being tallied, Patterson celebrated his victory when he encountered Sumner Pinkham, who was visibly enraged. Without hesitation, the lawman struck Patterson, knocking him off the street and into the gutter. Pinkham then walked away, leaving Patterson humiliated and seeking revenge. Locals anticipated an immediate retaliation from Patterson, but it never materialized.
Following his election defeat, Sumner Pinkham traveled to Illinois to visit his ailing mother. Upon his return to Idaho City in 1865, speculation immediately arose regarding a potential confrontation between Ferd Patterson and Sumner Pinkham.
After the Civil War’s conclusion, Sumner Pinkham organized a grand Fourth of July celebration. The atmosphere was largely festive, with fireworks, alcohol, and patriotic displays. The festivities included a brass band, speeches, patriotic songs, a picnic, and a parade led by Pinkham himself. For the victorious Union supporters, it was a moment of pride and triumph. However, for the Confederate sympathizers, it was a reminder of their defeat and a source of resentment. They heckled the Unionists throughout the day. For Patterson, seeing Pinkham leading the parade was a direct affront to his Southern loyalties.
Pinkham was singing, "Oh, we’ll hang Jeff Davis to a sour apple tree!" when Ferd Patterson challenged the former sheriff, threatening to silence him if he didn’t stop. Pinkham dared him to try, and a brief scuffle ensued, resulting in the American flag falling to the ground. Witnesses provided conflicting accounts, with some claiming that Patterson spat on the flag, while others asserted that Pinkham vowed to kill Patterson for the perceived desecration.
Several weeks later, on Sunday, July 23rd, Sumner Pinkham hired a carriage from Idaho City to the Warm Springs Resort, located approximately two miles west of town. Upon arriving, Pinkham joined a group of his Unionist friends in the saloon, where they were heard singing patriotic and anti-Confederate songs.
Later that day, Ferd Patterson entered the resort as Pinkham was settling his bill. Initially, Patterson ignored Pinkham, but as the former sheriff exited the resort, Ferd was waiting for him outside. Witnesses reported hearing Patterson utter the word "draw" and then taunt Pinkham, calling him an "Abolitionist son-of-a-bitch." The question of who drew their weapon first remained in dispute, but the outcome was undeniable: Pinkham was dead.
Patterson fled the scene, but lawmen quickly pursued him. Famed lawman Orlando "Rube" Robbins was the first to apprehend the killer, finding Patterson on the road to Boise, about 14 miles from Idaho City. Patterson surrendered to Robbins, who then handed him over to Sheriff Bowen, who had arrived on the scene. Bowen and his men escorted Patterson back to Idaho City.
Upon their arrival, they were met by a mob intent on lynching Patterson. However, the lawmen managed to outwit the mob and safely secured their prisoner in the town jail, which was protected by a stockade. The mob surrounded the stockade, continuing to threaten Patterson, but the lawmen defended their position with a cannon positioned behind portholes in the fence.
Ferd Patterson’s trial for Pinkham’s murder began in November 1865. During the six-day trial, defense attorney Frank Ganahl argued that his client had acted in self-defense, claiming that Pinkham had been waiting to ambush him. In contrast, Pinkham’s friends testified that he had tried to avoid a confrontation and that Patterson had come to Warm Springs with the express intention of murdering him.
After deliberating for only an hour and a half, the jury acquitted Patterson.
On November 16th, the Oregon newspaper reported:
"This ruffian has gone through the farce of a trial by a jury of fellow ‘Democrats’ at Idaho City and, of course, has been acquitted. By those who know the character of Patterson and his associates in Idaho, no other verdict was anticipated."
The Idaho Statesman echoed this sentiment, writing:
"Ferd Patterson has been acquitted, as expected. Idaho juries do not inquire whether a crime has been committed. All they ask is: ‘Was it a fair fight?’ If so, they cry: ‘Not guilty!’"
Knowing that he was in grave danger, Patterson quickly fled Idaho City following his acquittal.
He resurfaced in Walla Walla, Washington, where he resumed his gambling activities. On the night of February 14, 1866, he encountered Hugh Donahue, the lawman who had arrested him for assaulting his girlfriend in Portland, Oregon. The two exchanged harsh words but parted ways without resorting to violence.
However, the following morning, as Patterson sat in Richard Bogle’s barbershop for a shave and a haircut, Donahue entered through a back door and shot Patterson, hitting him in the right side of his jaw. As Patterson stumbled towards the door in an attempt to escape, Donahue continued to fire, killing the "dandy" gunfighter.
Donahue was arrested and charged with murder. His trial resulted in a hung jury, and a new trial was ordered. One night, while awaiting his second trial, Donahue discovered that his cell door had mysteriously been unlocked. Unguarded, he walked out of the building and vanished without a trace.
The life of Ferd Patterson, a man who lived and died by the gun, came to an end in a barbershop in Walla Walla. His story serves as a reminder of the violence and lawlessness that characterized the American West, and the complex characters who shaped its history.