John Wesley Hardin & The Shootist Archetype
John Wesley Hardin, a name synonymous with the tumultuous era of the American Old West, remains an enigmatic figure. Was he a cold-blooded killer or a man simply trying to survive in a brutal world? While his life was undeniably steeped in violence, Hardin’s story transcends simple categorization. He embodies the archetypal "shootist," a particular kind of man forged in the crucible of the frontier. Examining his life allows us to delve into the characteristics that defined these individuals, separating them from mere outlaws or hired guns.
Hardin’s existence was a paradox. Despite claiming that every violent act stemmed from self-preservation, he consistently made choices that jeopardized his own safety. This self-destructive tendency, coupled with his undeniable skill with a firearm, paints a complex portrait of a man wrestling with his own nature. A vintage article from 1924 quotes Hardin’s midwife as predicting he would become either a "great hero" or a "monumental villain." The truth, perhaps, lies somewhere in between.
The term "gunfighter" is often used loosely, but the true John Wesley Hardin & The Shootist Archetype was more than just someone who carried a gun. In the Old West of the 1860s, 70s, and 80s, firearms were commonplace. Owning a Colt revolver didn’t automatically qualify a person as a gunslinger, nor did a single act of self-defense. The John Wesley Hardin & The Shootist Archetype differed significantly from the romanticized depictions often found in Hollywood Westerns. The meticulously choreographed showdown at high noon, with both opponents politely waiting for a fair draw, rarely occurred in reality.
The Shootist: A Breed Apart
A "shootist," unlike a bushwhacker or assassin, was a highly capable and often unpredictable individual whose violent actions typically arose from perceived insults or slights. He was more likely to be a loner than a member of a gang or posse. Whether playing the role of sheriff or outlaw, the John Wesley Hardin & The Shootist Archetype possessed a certain charisma and style. He felt more at ease outside the constraints of civilized society, trusting his own intuition, skills, and instincts above all else. Slow to form alliances, the shootist often adhered to the martial principle that "offense is the best defense." He rarely backed down, not out of fearlessness, but because he knew how to harness his fear into assertive action. Whether objectively right or wrong, the shootist acted from a place of moral certainty, adhering to his own personal code of honor, even if it meant breaking laws or cultural taboos.
Assessing Other Western Figures
To better understand the John Wesley Hardin & The Shootist Archetype, it is useful to consider other figures from the Old West. Wyatt Earp, for example, was arguably more of an entrepreneur and vigilante than a true shootist. Doc Holliday, on the other hand, certainly qualified, although his willingness to inflict harm may have been a greater factor than the number of his victims. Billy the Kid, despite his bravado, seemed to yearn for a life beyond gunfights, preferring dancing and romance to violence. Jesse James, a thief motivated by political factors, typically operated with a gang and had no apparent qualms about shooting from ambush or attacking from behind. Clay Allison, while undeniably a homicidal maniac, was at least an upfront shootist. And James "Wild Bill" Hickok, with his impressive kill count, was a prime example of the classic gunfighter.
The Reality of Gunfights
It’s crucial to dispel the myth that all gunmen were highly skilled marksmen. In reality, most were notoriously poor shots, partly due to the scarcity and cost of ammunition, which limited their practice. Shooting one-handed further decreased accuracy. In a confined space, the black powder smoke from the first shots would obscure the target. Alcohol was often a contributing factor, as illustrated by Wyatt Earp’s brother Warren, who drunkenly challenged someone in Willcox, Arizona, only to realize he had forgotten his gun.
Hardin’s Place Among the Legends
Like other memorable figures, John Wesley Hardin & The Shootist Archetype was forged in a crucible of intense circumstances. From this same mold emerged figures such as Beowulf, Crazy Horse, Alvin York, and William Wallace. In Western movies and television, this archetype is embodied not by sanitized heroes but by the solitary determination of characters in films such as "The Brave Cowboy," "Billy Jack," and "Thelma & Louise."
John Wesley Hardin & The Shootist Archetype was arguably the most proficient with handguns and the most willing to use them. While only eleven kills in eighteen fights can be independently verified, his probable tally of thirty to forty victims killed in face-to-face gunfights likely exceeds that of most other known shootists, though not necessarily all killers.
A contemporary of Hardin’s, James P. "Deacon" Miller, likely murdered more than forty men, but he typically used a rifle from ambush. Miller was eventually lynched in Oklahoma. It’s important to remember that generals and politicians oversee the deaths of millions, sometimes for justifiable reasons and sometimes not. Even contractors’ indifference to asbestos risks has resulted in countless fatalities.
Hardin stood apart for meeting most of his adversaries head-on and never losing a fight. He may have wished he hadn’t killed a man for snoring, but he never drew blood for financial gain. He lived not to fit in but to distinguish himself, guided by instinct and heart rather than obligation or duty.
A Complex Personality
Hardin could be relaxed and jovial one moment and tense or solemn the next, quoting scripture between bouts of intemperate opinions and whiskey. He held prejudices against Native Americans, Mexicans, and Black people and likely instigated many of his confrontations.
Like all of us, Hardin was a product of his time and circumstances. His strict religiosity and moralism, combined with a mean streak, may have stemmed from the pressures of being the son of a preacher. Named after the founder of the Methodist Church, he faced high expectations. Like many adolescents, he struggled between his love for his family and the need to establish his own identity.
His first victim was a former slave named Major Holzhausen. After losing a wrestling match to Hardin, Holzhausen sought revenge. When Holzhausen grabbed the reins of Hardin’s horse, Hardin shot him five times. Despite this act, Hardin rode eight miles to get help for the wounded man. However, Holzhausen died a week later, and Hardin became a fugitive.
Much of Hardin’s fame in Texas stemmed from his conflicts with Federal troops and the State Police. Shortly after becoming a fugitive, Hardin ambushed four soldiers his brother believed were hunting him.
His shootouts were face-to-face but hardly "fair." Hardin did everything possible to gain the upper hand, practicing his fast draw, anticipating others’ moods, and initiating the draw when tensions escalated. He was not averse to drawing on unarmed opponents. His goal was to "get the drop" on his opponent, meaning to be the first to aim and fire. While an assassin’s purpose is to kill, a gunfighter’s intent is to prevent himself from being shot. The most effective way to do this is with a disabling shot, typically to the head, spine, or heart.
The Hickok Encounter: Fact or Fiction?
Some stories in Hardin’s autobiography are questionable. One tale recounts how, at the end of a trail ride to Abilene, Kansas, the eighteen-year-old Hardin supposedly got the drop on Wild Bill Hickok. Hardin appeared to surrender his revolvers but then quickly twirled them into firing position. This story is unlikely. Hickok would likely have had his own gun drawn or been poised to draw. The "Curly Bill Spin" was a known stage trick, and Hickok would likely have anticipated it. Furthermore, such a public humiliation would have demanded retribution, not Hickok’s supposed offer of friendship.
It is also unclear whether the man Hardin shot through a wall in Abilene was actually trying to kill him. He may have simply been silencing a snoring neighbor. If so, he may have concocted the story to justify the killing.
In Trinity City, Texas, in 1872, Hardin was shot by Phil Sublett, a drunken gambler trying to win back his losses. While Hardin wounded Sublett, the buckshot that struck Hardin’s kidney nearly killed him. He arranged a sickbed surrender to a trusted sheriff and then escaped from jail with a smuggled saw.
Wanted by the Texas Rangers, Hardin remained active. He joined the Taylor-Sutton feud in 1873. In 1874, Hardin claimed that Sheriff Charlie Webb drew on him before Hardin shot him.
The Hunt Intensifies
Now the Rangers were in earnest pursuit. Hardin found himself hiding in thickets and barns. Earlier, he had been applauded for killing Sheriff Jack Helm, but Webb was generally liked. This incident proved to be Hardin’s undoing.
Hardin’s love for horses allowed him to evade the Rangers. But their inability to capture him fueled a civilian mob. When they couldn’t get to Hardin, they lynched his brother Joe. In total, eight of Hardin’s friends and family were killed. Hardin was haunted by the deaths of those who died in his place. He grieved that his actions had "drove my father to an early grave…almost distracted my mother…killed my brother Joe and my cousins Tom and William…left my brother’s widow with two helpless babes…to say nothing of the grief of countless others."
Hardin could no longer rely on indifferent officials and community support. He moved his family to Florida, assuming the name "J. W. Swain." He became the subject of the largest manhunt in Texas history, with a four-thousand-dollar reward, "Dead or Alive."
In August 1877, a drunken friend exposed Hardin. Authorities set a trap and arrested him as he boarded a train. Hardin was pistol-whipped as he struggled to draw a hidden Colt .44.
Extradited back to Comanche, Hardin was sentenced to twenty-five years in the Texas Penitentiary in Huntsville.
Prison and Release
Hardin did not adjust well to prison, repeatedly attempting to escape. After numerous punishments, he settled down, studied law, and passed the bar examination. His letters to his wife became infrequent and distant.
Hardin served sixteen years, from 1878 to 1894. During his imprisonment, America witnessed significant technological and cultural changes.
Hardin was released with a new suit and a state-issued check for under fifteen dollars. His mother had died during his imprisonment, and his wife died shortly before his release.
A New Chapter in El Paso
In 1895, Hardin chose El Paso to practice law. However, he found that few trusted an ex-convict. He turned to whiskey and gambling.
El Paso authorities anticipated his arrival with apprehension. Police Chief Jeff Milton secreted shotguns around town, and deputies John Selman and George Scarborough made plans to deal with him. Hardin didn’t ease their concerns by showing off his gun handling skills.
Hardin was always willing to challenge authority. In August 1895, he acquiesced to Milton’s accusations. In July, he appeared on charges of gambling, carrying a firearm, and robbery.
On May 2nd, an intoxicated Hardin pointed a gun at someone who called him a "jail rat" and retook the $95 he had lost gambling. He wrote to the newspapers, defending his actions.
Throughout his life, Hardin preferred close-range confrontations, using Colt and Remington revolvers.
Upon his release, he seems to have preferred the rapidity of fire offered by double-action revolvers. Besides the .41 Colt 1877, he also owned a .38 LC "Lightning" and a .44 WCF Colt 1878.
Hardin’s proficiency with firearms was remarkable, demonstrated through his growing body count and by blasting poker cards held by admirers. Ranger Jim Gillette described his gun handling as having been executed with "magical precision."
A Tragic End
A fast gun and "pluck and push" could not guarantee freedom or life. Hardin found that standing up to insult was no longer considered a virtue. He grieved over lost values and the existential loneliness that haunted his nights.
Hardin’s gambling increased, giving him a sense of mastery and excitement. It was an attempt to control his life in an environment of disempowerment.
On the afternoon of August 19, 1895, Hardin was gambling at the Acme saloon, standing with his back to the door. Constable Selman entered and shot Hardin in the back of the head, then fired two more rounds into his body.
It could be said that Hardin was weary, but he was aware of the dangers he faced. It was something more than alcohol-induced laxness that determined his posture on that fateful day.
Hardin’s death was not suicide. He was gambling with his life, increasing the stakes, and calling the opposition’s bluff. The last sounds he likely heard were Selman’s footsteps and the rattling of dice.
As his world collapsed, firearms were something he felt he could count on. They were more than a means of defense; they represented a love, a code, a way of being that might never die.
In conclusion, the John Wesley Hardin & The Shootist Archetype remains a fascinating and complex figure. He was a product of his time, a man who embodied the violence and contradictions of the American Old West.