Modern Bad Men
The annals of the early American borderlands, predating established legal systems and stable property rights, occasionally cast a romantic glow upon outlawry. The allure of readily available gold in the mountains and untamed cattle on the plains, in an era of perceived abundance and relaxed societal norms, presented temptations that were easily embraced and readily excused. These early ruffians often operated on a grand scale, imbuing some with a certain captivating quality. If leniency could ever be extended to lawlessness, or if any justification could be offered for actions defying the law, it might be found in the context of these individuals and their time. However, such excuses and justifications fall silent when confronted with the figure of the terrible and base individual, one who kills purely for personal gain, compounding their actions with cruelty and cunning rather than boldness and courage. Such individuals inspire only horror, a horror utterly devoid of admiration.
Yet, if we steel ourselves to delve into the grim and sordid, the brutal and ignorant underbelly of sheer criminality, we are compelled to confront some of the most bloodthirsty figures in American history. These were individuals who thrived well within the era of established law, making a trade out of robbery, their capital derived from a profound disregard for the lives and possessions of others.
The fact that such individuals could reside for years on end at the very fringes of major cities, in well-settled regions, their true nature known to countless upstanding citizens, stands as a bizarre commentary on the American character, yet the historical record bears witness to this very reality.
History demonstrates that widespread warfare invariably diminishes the value of human life, both within and beyond the ranks of the fighting forces. England’s early wars, marked by the longbow and buckler, coincided with the nation’s zenith of pickpockets and cutthroats. The period following the American Civil War proved terrifying for the entire nation, stretching from Montana to Texas. This was particularly acute along the dividing line between North and South, where animosity, far exceeding mere soldierly antagonism, characterized a significant portion of the population on both sides of the conflict. Narrowing the focus further, nowhere on any borderland did animosity burn so fiercely as in western Missouri and eastern Kansas. Here, the Jayhawker and border ruffian engaged in a prolonged guerrilla war, predating the nation’s descent into organized civil conflict. If sheer bloodshed is the metric of our consideration, this region presents a landscape of profound interest. The actions of James Lane and John Brown, as well as those of William Quantrill and Charles Hamilton, are unrivaled in their terror within the annals of any nation. Osceola, Missouri; Marais du Cygne and Lawrence, Kansas – these place names still evoke a chilling resonance.
This specific locality – encompassing parts of Kansas and Missouri near the towns of Independence and Westport, and especially the counties of Jackson and Clay in Missouri – was perpetually turbulent, and with justifiable cause. This region served as the last outpost of westward-bound civilization, situated on the edge of the Great Plains and marking the demarcation between white settlers and Native American territories. Like gravel accumulating along the cleats of a sluice, the daring men who had pushed westward from Kentucky, Tennessee, lower Ohio, and eastern Missouri were the Boones, Carsons, Crocketts, and Kentons of their era. Here, the Mormons arrived to establish their communities, only to face armed resistance that ultimately drove them across the plains. Here, in these very towns, was the staging ground and departure point for the caravans of the early Santa Fe trade. From here, the Oregon Trail branched out towards the far Northwest, and here, the Forty-niners paused momentarily in their frenzied pursuit of the golden shores of the Pacific. Moreover, adding the bitterness of fanaticism to the courage of the frontier, came the determined men of the North, insisting that Kansas be free to expand northern populations and institutions.
This corner of Missouri and Kansas served as a crucible of recklessness and daring for over a generation. The children born within this area inherited an indifference to death that was unmatched on the American frontier, save perhaps in the blood-soaked Southwest. At the onset of the Civil War, the men of this region exhibited an unparalleled level of desperate fighting. Too restless to serve under any banner but their own, they forged their own standard. The black flags of Quantrill and Lane, of border ruffian and jayhawker, were guidons under which quarter was unheard of and mercy a forgotten concept.
Warfare devolved into murder, and murder became assassination. Ambush, surprise attacks, pillaging, and arson became commonplace, with women and children falling victim alongside combatants. Is it surprising, then, that such a school produced those figures that a particular class of writers has termed "bandit kings": the bank robbers and train robbers of modern days, the James and Younger type of modern bad men.
The most notorious of these border fighters was the bloody leader, William Quantrill, the mastermind behind the Sacking of Lawrence. He was as formidable a partisan leader as ever mounted a horse. Born in Hagerstown, Maryland, on July 31, 1837, he spent part of his childhood in Cleveland, Ohio. At the age of 20, he joined his brother on a journey to California via the Great Plains. This was in 1856, a time when Kansas was teeming with Free-Soilers, whose political convictions were not always untainted by a readiness to rob. A group of these men ambushed the Quantrill party on the Cottonwood River, killing his older brother. William Quantrill vowed vengeance, an oath he would relentlessly fulfill.
It is unnecessary to meticulously recount the deeds of this border leader. While their audacity might have garnered some admiration, it was overshadowed by their brutality and treachery. Quantrill commanded a band of sworn men, bound by solemn oaths to support one another and maintain secrecy. These men were well-armed and well-mounted, all fearless and skilled marksmen, with the revolver being their weapon of choice, much like Mosby’s men in the Civil War. Their tactics involved surprise attacks, ambushes, and determined rushes. Time and again, they triumphed over Federal forces far outnumbering them, thanks to their intimate knowledge of the terrain and their willingness to resort to any treachery, disregarding the odds they faced. Their victims were sometimes paroled, but infrequently, with massacres often following defeats.
Cold-blooded and unhesitating murder became an everyday occurrence. For instance, during the march to the Lawrence Massacre, Jesse James was entrusted with the care of three men, including an elderly individual, whom they had taken as guides from Aubrey, Kansas. They utilized these men until they were within a few miles of Lawrence, at which point, it is alleged, members of the band led them aside and murdered them. The old man pleaded for his life, insisting that he had never wronged them. His murderers were no more than boys. This act may have been the act of modern bad men, but not the kind that evokes any respect, unlike that which might be afforded to Wild Bill Hickok, even Billy the Kid, or any number of other larger-than-life desperadoes.
This assassination was but one among countless others. A neighbor suspected of harboring Federal sympathies might be visited in the night, shot or hanged, his property destroyed, and his family slaughtered. The culmination of this violence was the Lawrence Massacre, simply the logical outcome of principles rooted in blood and revenge. In that engagement, or more accurately, that massacre, women and children perished alongside men. The James boys were Quantrill’s riders, Jesse a recruit, and on that day, they claimed to have killed sixty-five individuals and wounded an additional twenty! What was the total tally of these two men alone throughout this period of guerrilla warfare? It is impossible to know. They themselves likely lost count. The four Younger boys had records that were almost as appalling.
There existed, indeed, a borderland saturated in blood, a region ravaged by internal conflict. Quantrill suffered defeats from time to time, encountering fighting men in both blue and civilian garb, and leading fighting men himself. Occasionally, he was compelled to disband his men, only to regroup later and resume his marauding activities along the border. His actions garnered the attention of leaders on both sides of the opposing armies. At one point, there was a near-agreement between Confederates and Unionists to unite against these guerrillas, who had turned the name of Missouri into one of reproach and contempt. The matter was ultimately resolved with Quantrill’s death in a fight at Smiley, Kentucky, in January 1865.
What could be expected of Quantrill’s surviving men, given their upbringing and training? They dispersed across the frontier, from Texas to Minnesota, most living in constant fear for their lives, the name of Quantrill serving as a badge of infamy wherever their past was known. Numerous border killings years later, and far removed geographically, stemmed from the implacable hatred that originated in those days.
As for the James boys and the Younger boys, what options did they have? The days of war were over. There were no longer any armed banners arrayed against one another. Soldiers who had fought bravely and openly on both sides had laid down their arms and begun to fraternize. The Union grew stronger and more indivisible. Men settled down to farming, craftsmanship, and commerce, and their wounds began to heal. Amnesty was offered to those who desired it and deserved it. These men could have found an easy living, for the farmland remained rich and available. However, they rejected a life of toil. They preferred the path of robbery and bloodshed that they had already embarked upon. They now harbored animosity, not towards the Federals, but towards humanity itself. The social world was their harvest field, which they reaped with weapons in hand. The modern bad men chose the criminal life.
The James family originated in Kentucky, where Frank was born in Scott County in 1846. The father, Robert James, was a Baptist minister. He relocated to Clay County, Missouri, in 1849, and Jesse was born there in 1850. Reverend Robert James departed for California in 1851 and never returned. The mother, a woman of considerable strength of character, later married Doctor Samuels. She felt deeply embittered by the persecution of her family. She lost an arm in an attack by detectives on her home, during which a young son was killed. The family had many friends and confederates throughout the country; otherwise, the James boys would likely have met their end long before they were brought to justice.
The Younger boys, Thomas Coleman, or "Cole," Younger, and his brothers, John, Bruce, James, and Robert, came from similar backgrounds. Their father was Henry W. Younger, who settled in Jackson County, Missouri, in 1825 and was known as a man of ability and integrity. He served as a county judge for eight years and was twice elected to the state legislature. He fathered fourteen children, five of whom ultimately turned to a life of crime.
He once owned extensive tracts of land and was a successful merchant in Harrisonville for a time. Cole Younger was born on January 15, 1844, John in 1846, Bruce in 1848, James in 1850, and Bob in 1853. As these boys came of age, they joined Quantrill’s bands, and their careers mirrored those of the James boys. Their choice of sides stemmed from similar circumstances. Charles Jennison, the Kansas Jayhawker leader, during one of his raids into Missouri, burned the Youngers’ houses and confiscated the horses in his livery stables. Following that, the boys of the family swore revenge.
At the conclusion of the Civil War, the Younger and James boys often collaborated, leading a band that maintained a cave hideout in Clay County and had numerous farmhouses where they could seek refuge when needed. Included in their ranks, at least some of the time, were George and Ollie Shepherd; other band members included Bud Singleton, Bob Moore, Clell Miller, and his brother, Arthur McCoy; others came and went periodically, regularly involved in the more significant operations. It would be tedious to enumerate the long list of crimes these men committed for ten or fifteen years after the war. They undoubtedly brought notoriety to their region. They faced condemnation from the entire American press directed at the State of Missouri; they drove the governors of that state and several others to their wits’ end; they completely confounded the best forces of the major city detective agencies. They killed two detectives – one of whom, however, killed John Younger before he died – and executed another in cold blood under circumstances of repulsive brutality. They raided Missouri, Kansas, Kentucky, Tennessee, and even as far east as West Virginia, as far north as Minnesota, as far south as Texas, and even Old Mexico. They plundered dozens of banks and held up countless railway passenger trains, stagecoaches, and travelers. The James boys alone are known to have stolen $275,000 in their robberies, and, including the illicit gains of their colleagues, the Youngers, they could undoubtedly account for over half a million dollars. They mocked the law, defied state and county governments, and roamed freely as they pleased, turning the name of law in the West into a jest. If magnitude in crime merits distinction, they might lay claim to the title, for their exploits were unparalleled and perhaps will never be equaled. And they perpetrated all these unbelievable acts in the heart of the Mississippi Valley, in a densely populated region, despite their long-standing reputation for criminal activities, and in a region fully aware of their presence. Indeed, it seems that American law can sometimes be weak. These modern bad men were a menace to society.
The pattern was largely the same in the numerous robberies of small-town banks. A gang member would scout out the bank, familiarizing himself with the interior layout. Two or three members of the gang would enter, pretending to want a bill changed; then, they would hold the cashier at gunpoint, forcing him to open the safe. If he resisted, he would be killed, sometimes killed regardless of his actions, as was cashier Sheets in the Gallatin bank robbery. The guard stationed outside would terrorize the citizens until the loot was secured; then, they would make their escape on fast horses. Following that would be a frantic and unorganized pursuit by citizens and officers, possibly another killing or two along the way, and a return to their hideout in Clay County, Missouri, where they never had any difficulty in establishing any alibis they needed.
None of these men ever confessed to a complete list of these robberies, and even years later, they all denied any involvement. Still, the facts are too well-established to give any credence to their denials, which were based on a natural reticence.
Of course, their safety depended on the sympathy of many neighbors of similar disposition, and fear of retaliation provided the remaining motivation necessary to enforce secrecy.
Some of the most notorious bank robberies in which the aforementioned men, or some of them, were known to have been involved were as follows: The Clay County Savings Association, of Liberty, Missouri, February 14, 1866, in which a young boy named Wymore was shot to death for obeying the bank cashier’s orders and raising the alarm; the bank of Alexander Mitchell & Co., Lexington, Missouri, October 30, 1860; the McLain Bank, of Savannah, Missouri, March 2, 1867, in which Judge McLain was shot and nearly killed; the Hughes & Mason Bank, of Richmond, Missouri, May 23, 1867, and the subsequent attack on the jail, in which Mayor Shaw, Sheriff J. B. Griffin, and his brave fifteen-year-old son were all killed; the bank of Russellville, Kentucky, March 20, 1868, in which cashier Long was severely beaten; the Daviess County Savings Bank, of Gallatin, Missouri, December 7, 1869, in which cashier John Sheets was brutally murdered; the bank of Obocock Brothers, Corydon, Iowa, June 3, 1871, in which forty thousand dollars was stolen, although no one was killed; the Deposit Bank, of Columbia, Missouri, April 29, 1872, in which cashier R. A. C. Martin was killed; the Savings Association, of Ste. Genevieve, Missouri; the Bank of Huntington, West Virginia, September 1, 1875, in which one of the bandits, McDaniels, was killed; the Bank of Northfield, Minnesota, September 7, 1876, in which cashier J. L. Haywood was killed, A. E. Bunker wounded, and several of the bandits killed and captured as described later.
These same men, or some of them, also robbed a stagecoach now and then, near Hot Springs, Arkansas, for example, on January 15, 1874, where they acquired $4,000 and included ex-Governor Burbank of Dakota among their victims, taking $1500 from him alone; the San Antonio-Austin coach, in Texas, May 12, 1875, in which John Breckenridge, president of the First National Bank of San Antonio, was relieved of $1000; and the Mammoth Cave, Kentucky, stage, September 3, 1880, where they took nearly $2000 in cash and jewelry from passengers of distinction.
However, the most daring of their exploits, which brought them into conflict with the United States government for tampering with the mail, was their repeated robbery of railway mail trains, which became a matter of simplicity and certainty in their hands. To flag down a train or stop it with an obstruction, or to board and mingle with the train crew, then halt the train, kill anyone who resisted, and force the opening of the express agent’s safe, became routine for them over time. The total amount of cash they obtained in this manner was staggering.
The most notable train robberies involving members of the James-Younger bands were the Rock Island train robbery near Council Bluffs, Iowa, July 21, 1873, in which engineer Rafferty was killed in the wreck, and but meager loot secured; the Gad’s Hill, Missouri, robbery of the Iron Mountain train, January 28, 1874, in which approximately $500 was taken from the express agent, mail bags, and passengers; the Kansas Pacific train robbery near Muncie, Kansas, December 12, 1874, in which they secured more than $55,000 in cash and gold dust, along with a considerable amount of jewelry; the Missouri-Pacific train robbery at Rocky Cut, July 7, 1876, where they held the train for an hour and a quarter and secured approximately $15,000 in total; the robbery of the Chicago & Alton train near Glendale, Missouri, October 7, 1879, in which the James boys’ gang secured between $35,000 and $50,000 in currency; the robbery of the Rock Island train near Winston, Missouri, July 15, 1881, by the James boys’ gang, in which conductor Westfall was killed, messenger Murray badly beaten, and a passenger named MacMillan killed, with little booty obtained; the Blue Cut robbery of the Alton train, September 7, 1881, in which the James boys and eight others searched every passenger and took away a two-bushel sack full of cash, watches, and jewelry, severely beating the express messenger because they obtained so little from the safe. This last robbery prompted Governor Crittenden of Missouri to resolve to capture the bandits dead or alive, with a reward of $30,000 offered by various railways and express companies, placing a price of $10,000 each on the heads of Frank and Jesse James.
Aside from this lengthy catalog of the bandit gang’s deeds of outlawry, they were continuously involved in smaller undertakings of a similar nature. On one occasion, they stole $10,000 in cash from the Kansas City Fair box office on September 26, 1872, in a crowded city with all the modern law enforcement resources available to protect its citizens. Many acts in widely separated parts of the country were attributed to the Younger or James boys. Although they cannot have been guilty of all of them, and although many of the adventures credited to them in Texas, Mexico, California, the Indian Nations, etc., bear earmarks of doubtful origin, there is no doubt that for twenty years after the close of the Civil War they made a living in this way, their gang being composed of perhaps a score of different men in all, and usually consisting of about six to ten men, depending on the size of the undertaking at hand.
Meanwhile, throughout these years, the list of homicides for each of them continued to grow. Jesse James killed three men out of six who attacked his house one night, and not long after, Frank and he were alleged to have killed six men in a gambling fight in California. John and Jim Younger killed the Pinkerton detectives Lull and Daniels, John himself being killed at that time by Daniels. A little later, Frank, Jesse James, and Clell Miller killed Detective Wicher of the same agency, torturing him for some time before his death to force him to reveal the Pinkerton plans. The James boys killed Daniel Askew in revenge, and Jesse James and Jim Anderson killed Ike Flannery for robbery. This last act set the gang into hostile camps, for Flannery was a nephew of George Shepherd. Shepherd later killed Anderson in Texas for his role in that act; he also shot Jesse James and, for a long time, believed he had killed him.
The complete record of these outlaws will never be known. Their careers came to an end soon after the substantial rewards were placed on their heads, and it occurred in the usual way, through betrayal. Enticed by the prospect of gaining ten thousand dollars, two cousins of Jesse James, Bob and Charlie Ford, pretending to join his gang for another robbery, became members of Jesse James’ household. At the time, he was living incognito as Thomas Howard. On the morning of April 3, 1882, Bob Ford, a mere boy not yet 20 years of age, stepped behind Jesse James as he was standing on a chair dusting off a picture frame and, firing at close range, shot him through the head, killing him. Bob Ford never gained much respect for his actions, and his money was soon gone. He was killed in February 1892 at Creede, Colorado, by a man named Kelly.
Jesse James was about five feet ten inches tall and weighed about one hundred and sixty-five pounds. His hair and eyes were brown. During his life, he had been shot twice through the lungs, once through the leg, and had lost a finger of the left hand from a bullet wound.
Frank James was slighter than his brother, with light hair, blue eyes, and a ragged, reddish mustache. Frank surrendered to Governor Crittenden at Jefferson City in October 1882, removing his revolvers and stating that no man had touched them but himself since 1861. He was sentenced to the penitentiary for life but later pardoned, as he was thought to be dying of consumption. At the time of this writing, he is still alive, somewhat old and bent now, but leading a quiet and steady life and showing no inclination to revert to his old ways. He is sometimes seen around the race tracks, where he does little talking. Frank James has had many apologists, and his life should be considered in light of the environments in which he grew up. He killed many men, but he was never as cold and cruel as Jesse, and of the two, he was said to be the braver man by those who knew them both. He never was known to back down under any circumstances.
The fate of the Younger boys was closely intertwined with that of the James boys, but the end of the careers of the former came more dramatically. It is remarkable that both parties clung together for so long, given that Cole Younger once intended to kill Jesse James and on one occasion came close to killing George Shepherd due to malicious statements Jesse James had made to him about the latter. Shepherd encountered Cole at the house of a friend named Hudspeth in Jackson County, and their host placed them in the same bed that night due to a lack of better accommodations. "After we lay down," said Shepherd, describing this, "I saw Cole reach up under his pillow and draw out a pistol, which he put beside him under the cover. Not to be taken unawares, I grasped my pistol and shoved it under the covers beside me. Were it to save my life, I couldn’t tell what reason Cole had for becoming my enemy. We talked very little but just lay there watching each other. He was behind me on the front side of the bed, and during the entire night, we looked into each other’s eyes and never moved. It was the most wretched night I ever passed in my life." Such may sometimes be the price of being "bad." Fortunately, they did not kill each other, and the next day, Cole informed Shepherd that he had expected him to shoot on sight, as Jesse James had claimed he would. Explanations then ensued. It nearly resulted in a confrontation between Cole Younger and Jesse James later, for Cole challenged him to a fight, and it was only with difficulty that their friends resolved the matter.
The history of the Younger Boys is tragic throughout. Their father was assassinated, and their mother was forced to set fire to her own house and destroy it under penalty of death; three sisters were arrested and confined in a barracks at Kansas City, which collapsed during a strong wind, killing two of the girls and crippling the other. John Younger was a murderer at the age of fourteen, and the number of times Cole Younger was a murderer, willingly or unwillingly, will never be known. He was shot three times in one fight during the guerrilla days, and likely few modern bad men carried off more lead than he did.
The story of the Northfield bank robbery in Minnesota, which ended so disastrously for the bandits who attempted it, is interesting as it reveals the raw courage and, indeed, the fidelity and fortitude that dangerous specimens of bad men can sometimes display. The purpose of the robbery was criminal; its execution involved murder, and the retribution was swift and severe. In all the annals of desperadoes, there is no battle more striking than this one, which took place in a sleepy and contented little village in the quiet northern farming country, where no one for a moment imagined that the bandits from the rumored bloody lands along the Missouri River would ever bother to come. The events immediately connected with this tragedy, which resulted in the Younger gang’s demise, unfolded as follows.
Bill Chadwell, alias Styles, a James boys’ gang member, had previously lived in Minnesota. He presented a flattering picture of the wealth of that region and the ease with which bandit tactics could obtain it. Cole Younger was against venturing so far from home but was overruled. He eventually joined the others – Frank and Jesse James, Clell Miller, Jim and Bob Younger, Charlie Pitts and Bill Chadwell. After surveying the area, they traveled to Minnesota by rail, purchased quality horses, and prepared to raid the small town of Northfield in Rice County. They put their plan into action on September 7, 1876, employing methods with which earlier experience had made them familiar. They rode into the center of town and opened fire, ordering everyone off the streets. Jesse James, Charlie Pitts, and Bob Younger entered the bank, where they found cashier J. L. Haywood with two clerks, Frank Wilcox and A. E. Bunker.
Bunker started to run, and Bob Younger shot him in the shoulder. They ordered Haywood to open the safe, but he flatly refused, even though they slightly cut him in the throat to compel compliance. Firing erupted from the citizens on the street, and the bandits inside the bank hastened their work, settling for whatever loose cash they could find in the drawers and on the counter. As they began to leave the bank, Haywood gestured toward a drawer as if to retrieve a weapon. Jesse James turned and shot him through the head, killing him instantly.
These three bandits then burst out into the street. They were met with gunfire from Doctor Wheeler and several other citizens, Hide, Stacey, Manning, and Bates. Doctor Wheeler was positioned across the street in an upstairs room, and as Bill Chadwell attempted to mount his horse, Wheeler fired and shot him dead. Manning fired at Clell Miller, who had mounted, and shot him from his horse.
Cole Younger was by this point ready to retreat, but he rode up to Miller and removed his belt and pistols from his body. Manning fired again and killed the horse behind which Bob Younger was hiding, and an instant later, a shot from Wheeler struck Bob in the right elbow. Despite this arm being disabled, Bob shifted his pistol to his left hand and fired at Bates, cutting a furrow through his cheek but not killing him. Around this time, a Norwegian man named Gustavson appeared on the street, not stopping when ordered to do so. He was shot through the head by one of the bandits, receiving a wound from which he died a few days later. The gang then began to scatter and retreat. Jim Younger was on foot and wounded. Cole rode back up the street and placed the wounded man on his horse behind him. The entire party then rode out of town to the west, none escaping without severe injuries.
As soon as the bandits had departed, the news was sent by telegraph, alerting the surrounding area to the robbery. Sheriffs, policemen, and detectives rallied in such numbers that the robbers found it difficult to escape alive. A state reward of $1,000 for each was published, and all of lower Minnesota organized itself into a determined manhunt. The gang attempted to cross the Iowa line, and they managed to evade their pursuers until the morning of the 13th, a week after the robbery. The six survivors were surrounded on that day in a strip of timber. Frank and Jesse James broke through, riding the same horse. They were fired upon, a bullet striking Frank James in the right knee and passing through Jesse’s right thigh.
Nonetheless, the two escaped, stole a horse apiece that night, and continued towards the Southwest. They rode bareback and occasionally enforced a horse trade with a farmer or livery-stable owner. They traveled near Sioux Falls and encountered Doctor Mosher, whom they compelled to treat their wounds and provide them with horses and clothing. Later, their horses gave out, and they hired a wagon and continued on. Their escape seems incomprehensible, yet they did manage to get relatively clear, eventually reaching Missouri.
Of the other bandits, Cole, Jim and Bob Younger, and Charlie Pitts remained; many citizens followed closely behind. Despite the relentless pursuit, they stayed out of reach for another week. On the morning of September 21, two weeks after the robbery, they were in the woods along the Watonwan River, not far from Madelia. Sheriff Glispin hastily assembled a posse and surrounded them in a patch of timber no more than five acres in size. Shortly, more than one hundred and fifty men surrounded this area, but despite maintaining constant fire, they could not dislodge the concealed bandits.
Sheriff Glispin called for volunteers, and Colonel Vaught, Ben Rice, George Bradford, James Severson, Charles Pomeroy, and Captain Murphy moved into the area. As they advanced, Charlie Pitts sprang from the brush and fired point-blank at Glispin. Simultaneously, Glispin also fired, shooting Pitts, who ran a short distance and fell dead. Then Cole, Bob, and Jim Younger stood and opened fire as best they could, with all the members of the storming party returning their fire. Murphy was struck in the body by a bullet, and his life was saved by his pipe, which he carried in his vest pocket. Another posse member had his watch destroyed by a bullet. The Younger boys retreated slightly, but this brought them within sight of those surrounding the thicket, so they withdrew again closer to the line of volunteers. Cole and Jim Younger were now badly wounded. With his broken right arm, Bob stood his ground, the only one able to continue the fight, and kept firing his revolver with his left hand. The others handed him their revolvers after his own was empty. The firing from the posse continued, and at last, Bob called out to them to stop as his brothers were all shot to pieces. He threw down his pistol and walked toward the sheriff, to whom he surrendered. Bob always spoke respectfully of Sheriff Glispin as a fighter and peace officer. One of the farmers raised his gun to kill Bob after he had surrendered, but Glispin ordered him to drop his gun or he would kill him.
It is doubtful that any group of men ever displayed more determination and ability to withstand punishment than these misguided outlaws. Bob Younger was hurt less than any of the others. His arm had been broken at Northfield two weeks prior, but he was wounded only once, slightly in the body, despite all the shots fired at him while in the thicket. Cole Younger had a rifle bullet lodged in his right cheek, which paralyzed his right eye. He had received a .45 revolver bullet through the body and had also been shot through the thigh at Northfield. He sustained 11 separate wounds in the fight, or 23 serious wounds in all, enough to have killed half a dozen men. Jim’s condition seemed even worse, as he had eight buckshot and a rifle bullet in his body. He had been shot through the shoulder at Northfield, and nearly half of his lower jaw had been destroyed by a heavy bullet, a wound that caused him intense suffering. Bob was the only one able to stand on his feet.
Of the two men killed in the town, Clell Miller and Bill Chadwell, the former had a long history of bank robberies; the latter, guide for the ill-fated expedition to Minnesota, was a horse thief of considerable notoriety at one time in lower Minnesota.
The prisoners were placed in jail at Faribault, the county seat of Rice County, and soon after, the Grand Jury returned true bills against them, charging them with murder and robbery. The court convened on November 7, with Judge Lord presiding. All of the prisoners pleaded guilty, and the court ordered that each should be confined in the state penitentiary for the duration of their natural lives.
The later fate of the Younger boys can be found in the concise records of the Minnesota State Prison at Stillwater:
"Thomas Coleman Younger, sentenced November 20, 1876, from Rice County under a life sentence for the crime of Murder in the first degree. Paroled July 14, 1901. Pardoned February 4, 1903, on condition that he leave the State of Minnesota and never exhibit himself publicly."
"James Younger was sentenced on November 20, 1876, from Rice County under a life sentence for the crime of Murder in the first degree. Paroled July 13, 1901. He shot himself with a revolver in St. Paul, Minnesota, and died immediately from the wound inflicted on October 19, 1902."
"Robert Younger was sentenced on November 20, 1876, from Rice County under a life sentence for the crime of Murder in the first degree. He died on September 16, 1889, of phthisis."
The James boys almost miraculously escaped, traveled across Iowa, and returned to their old haunts. They did not stop but continued on until they reached Mexico, where they remained for some time. However, they failed to heed their warning, and some of their most audacious train robberies were committed long after the Younger boys were incarcerated in the penitentiary.
Given the bloody careers of all these modern bad men, it must be acknowledged that the law was remarkably lenient with them. Yet, the Northfield incident proved decisive and marked the most significant setback ever suffered by any gang of outlaws, save perhaps for the defeat of the Dalton Gang at Coffeyville, Kansas, some years later, the story of which is recounted in Badmen of the Indian Nations.