January 14, 2021 • 34 mins
George Parrott claimed to have ridden with Butch Cassidy and Jesse James, but his legendary status has nothing to do with being an outlaw.
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Speaker 1 (00:02):
You're listening to American Shadows, a production of I Heart
Radio and Grim and Mild from Aaron Manky. Tales of
the American West have long fascinated us. Stories of cowboys,
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wagon trains, and gold rushes speak to an unpamed spirit
in the eye for adventure. Even after the Civil War,
news articles about the new Western frontier were read as
eagerly as the latest bestsellers. Maybe the appeal stemmed from
the long ravages of war the West offered a new
way of life, or perhaps people were enthralled by the
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draw of possibilities out in open country where people struck
it rich in gold, oil, or land. But it wasn't
the prairies or distant mountains alone. People were the real story,
especially horse thieves and cattle wrestlers, as well as bank,
train and stagecoach robbers. Equally fascinating were the lawmen who
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went after them. When it comes to the sheriffs and
marshalls wearing that gold star, many of us undoubtedly think
of why Morgan and Virgil earp along with their friend
Doc Holiday. Of all the histories surrounding them, none is
more enduring than the shootout at the Okay Corral. Though
the gunfight itself lasted only thirty seconds. As for cattle wrestlers,
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horse thieves, and murderers, names like Billy the Kid made
for great headlines. The kid nickname stemmed from his age.
He was just twenty one when he died, which was
also the number of men that he killed. Cattle and
horse theft might have been the equivalent of a Wild
West car theft ring, but the real money was in
robbing banks, stage coaches, and trains. From Jesse James to
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the Dalton Gang, armed robberies were as much a part
of the West as cowboys and saloons. Jesse James pulled
off nineteen robberies. The Dalton Gang started as lawmen before
finding better pay pulling off bank heists and robbing trains.
Part of their claim to fame was not one, but
two bank robberies at the same time in broad daylight.
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But few have ever captured our attention like Butch Cassidy
and the Sun Dance Kid. Born Robert Leroy Parker, he
adopted the Cassidy moniker to protect his family's good name.
He left home early, finding life in cattle wrestling more
lucrative than small town work. Soon his gang known as
the Wild Bunch, began robbing trains. Their heists were always
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well planned. Occasionally the addresses waiters at gala events to
gain information on the trains would be on them and
other details to help them pull off the job. Cassidy
had a reputation for never batting an eye during a robbery,
but he did have a weak spot. His lack of
etiquette knowledge made him incredibly nervous as he did his
best to properly serve the rich party guests. Harry Longabu,
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also known as the Sun Dance Kid, didn't meet Cassidy
until they worked at a ranch together. While they would
end up two of the most famous outlaws, neither was
prone to gun violence. In fact, people thought they were
friendly and everyone said they were helpful. Though Cassidy and
sun Dance pulled off robberies that would be worth ten
million today, they had a code of ethics assure they
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had robbed trains and banks, but common folk were off limits.
Cassidy never shot anyone during a hold up either. Lawmen
on their trail labeled them as the most shrewd and
daring outlaws in the West, but don't mistake daring for carelessness.
The gang's success came from Cassidy and sun Dances meticulous planning.
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The men spent hours training horses in ways that aided
the gang in their robberies. They also took their time planning,
often months, to avoid capture. No detail was too small.
Over the years, though they tired of life on the run.
Cassidy once asked a lawyer if he couldn't do something
to earn himself a pardon and settle down. Disheartened but
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not surprised at the answer, he made plans with Sundance
for one last heist that used the money to fund
a new way of life in Bolivia. Down in South America.
They pulled it off too. Before leaving, Cassidy stopped by
a local ranchers place. The rancher's son had always been
enamored with Cassidy's horse, and the outlaw gifted it to him.
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The two fled to South America after that. It's still
a mystery whether they died during a shootout with the
Pinkerton detectives who eventually tracked them down, or if they
escaped once more. DNA from the bodies at the side
of the shootout has since proved they were not Cassidy
or sun Dance. No matter whether you envision an epic
shootout where Butch and Sundance died in a blaze of
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glory or an ingenious dodge where they once again planned
the perfect escape, They've left us with an enduring and
legendary story. Some outlaws, though, have left behind something darker.
I'm Lauren Vogelbaum. Welcome to American Shadows. His name was
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George Friederic Menus. Maybe you've never heard of a French
Wild West outlaw, but George was born in Montbeille, of
France on March eighteen thirty four. He was married there too,
to Lucie Mathilde m Lindon. The two shared deep roots
in the area and soon became parents to a boy.
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All seemed well until George left his family and traveled
to America on April seventeenth of eighteen sixty two. While
that alone wasn't done heard of, plenty of immigrants established
themselves in America before sending for their families, but George didn't.
He cut ties and changed his first name to George
and his last name to Parrot like the bird, but
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with a second tea and sure immigrants often changed their
names in an attempt to fit in, or maybe to
make a name easier for English speakers to pronounce George,
though given his appearance, it seems more likely that he
took the physical feature and embraced it. He stood five
ft ten and weighed a hundred and sixty pounds. His
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hair and mustache were dark and bushy, and his eyes
were dark and heavily litted. George wasn't really considered handsome,
but he did have one standout feature, his nose. His
nose was large. Some say it looked like a parrot's beak,
hence the nickname's big Nose George and big beak Parrot.
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George headed west, where the lore and promise of land
parcels were common and railroads made the trip easy. Some
of the largest and richest employers were also out west.
Once into Code territory, George found that an honest man
could make an honest day's wages if he was willing
to put in the back breaking work. He found employment
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as a freight wagon driver, hauling supplies to gold rushed towns.
From there, he worked the railroad on gold or shipments
to the Union Pacific Railroad depots in Sydney, Nebraska and Cheyenne, Wyoming,
all honest work and honest pay. George found the competition tough,
though the West was full of other immigrants and settlers,
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all trying to cash in on the government's offer of
free land, much to the Dakota people's dismay. As you
might imagine, the West was pretty close to a free
for all. Sure, there were law men, but in some
cases by the barest of definitions. Before long, George found
a lucrative job with a gang of seven cattle wrestlers.
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Stage coaches became their next target. After a string of
successful robberies, the emboldened gang felt confident in their ability
to pull off something larger. This time, they set their
sights on the Union Pacific Railroad. Probably inspired by the
finesse with which Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid pulled
off train robberies. George and the gang might have thought
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it would be an easy payday. They'd leave the gold
it was heavy and made fast getaways difficult. Instead, they
set their sights on the payroll money that should be
on board. But George and the gang didn't train their horses,
nor did they infiltrate elite parties to glean information on
their intended target. They went with the basic knowledge that
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the train sometimes carried payroll. On Sunday, August eighteen seventy eight,
they took a page from other outlaws and loosened a
spike along a desolate stretch of track near Medicine Bow.
When the train derailed, their rest would be easy. All
they had to do was wait. Unfortunately for the outlaws,
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a large crew of repairmen arrived ahead of the train
to check the tracks. They hadn't thought of this. One
of the gang members wanted to kill the servicemen, but
George and another member thought missing linemen would raise a
red flag. Frustrated, the would be robbers had to wait
in hiding all day until the repair crew left before
removing the spike again. Their lack of planning became their undoing.
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Missing spikes had become a popular technique among train robbers,
and the repairman reported the instant upon their return. The
train stayed at the station while George and the others
waited for it to arrive. When it didn't, the gang
realized their mistake and fled. Authorities weren't far behind, though,
a search party along with the Carbon County Sheriff Robert
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Whiteford and Railroad special agent H. H. Vincent were on
the men's trail. The two had a good idea of
who they were looking for. George and the others had
been spotted in the area just days before. The lawmen
separated from the rest of the search team, finally coming
across the gang's hideout and rattlesnake can in, finding evidence
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that the camp had recently been vacated. They knew they
were close, they just had no idea how close. George
and the others had decided to ambush the lawmen. Instead
of running outnumbered, widow Field and Vincent were killed. The
gang stole their weapons and valuables through the bodies into
the brush, and left, feeling secure that they had covered
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their tracks. Back in town, the remainder of the search
party suspected foul play. When Widowfield and Vincent didn't return,
they put together a larger search team. Ten days later,
they found the bodies. Officials in Carbon County quickly organized
a manhunt and offered a hefty reward two thousand dollars,
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which would be over fifty thousand in today's money. Widow
Field and Vincent were the first lawmen killed in the
line of duty, and authorities didn't care if George and
the others were captured, dead or alive. The gang had
a botched train robbery, empty pockets, and a price on
their heads. Naturally, they fled. Two men split from the group,
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taking their chances on their own. For a short while,
it looked like this plan worked. Their luck wouldn't hold though.
A string of bizarre twists soon began to unravel their plans,
and little did they know things were about to get worse. First,
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one of the outlaws died from tuberculosis. Another Dutch, Charlie Burris,
made the mistake of staying too close to town, and
the authorities captured him within weeks. Days after that, the
former fugitive sat handcuffed and shackled on a train heading
back to Carbon County. Sheriff Jim Rankin wrote along as
an escort to ensure Dutch Charlie made it to trial.
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The transport had been arranged quietly, but in a small
western town, secrets had a way of traveling at lightning speed.
As soon as the train stopped to refuel at that evening,
a group of armed and masked men burst into the cabin.
Within minutes, they had dragged Dutch Charlie outside where a
mob had gathered. Deciding that a court of law would
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take too long, the masked men beat the outlaw, finally
getting a full confession from him. The admission didn't save him, though.
The mob dragged Dutch Charlie to a telegraph pole and
strung him up as a message to other would be outlaws.
They left his body swinging at the end of the
rope a full day before cutting him down and chucking
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his body into a coal car, the rope still around
his neck. Despite hearing the news, the rest of the
gang returned to their old ways. They robbed a stagecoach
and made off with seven thousand dollars that would be
over seven hundred thousand today. Though it was their biggest
pay day yet, it had come at a cost. One
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member died from gunshot wounds. Once again, the gang found
themselves on the run. They rode for days, putting miles
behind them, finally stopping in Yellowstone County, Montana. With their
new wealth from a successful heist, two of the outlaws
decided that this was where they parted ways. George and
a couple of others stayed behind, though within a year
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they spent their entire windfall. One February night, the men
were sitting in a local saloon lamenting their lack of funds,
when they overheard that Morris Can, a merchant and one
of the richest men in Montana, was planning a trip
to North Dakota for supplies. The desperadoes went right to
work on a plan. A military ambulance and an escort
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of fifteen soldiers were also making their way to North Dakota,
and Can had managed to secure passage with them. Sweetening
the deal, the soldiers would be carrying a neighboring town's payroll.
All George and the gang needed to do must follow
the caravan beyond the Powder River, crossing into the steep
walled valley beyond it. If they timed it just right,
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Can and the others would walk straight into an ambush.
And the plan worked. When the first segment of riders
entered the valley and made the first turn around large boulders,
George and two others held them at gunpoint, then secured
them and their weapons. Moments later, the second group, including Can,
rounded the bend and found themselves looking down the barrels
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of several shotguns. All the men were robbed of cash
and valuables. To add insult, the outlaws took hands peach, Brandy,
and the lead sergeant's horse. As the gang rode off,
they tossed the wagon driver a cigar. They fled across
the Yellowstone River before doubling back north, returning to Miles
City in Montana. It had gone perfectly, they thought, except
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for one thing. Despite wearing bandanas and wide brimmed hats
pulled down over their eyes, George's big nose had given
them away. It didn't take long before authorities arrested him.
Of course, bragging about the exploit didn't do him any favors,
but although he was put on trial for the robbery,
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no one made the connection to the wanted poster for
murder just a few miles south. During the trial, a
witness testified that George had been in Buffalo Springs at
the time of the hold up, making it impossible for
him to have been in Powder Springs. The witnesses had
been paid for the testimony, but it did the trick.
The case ended with an acquittal. George felt rather pleased
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with himself, and once back at the saloon, he bragged
about the crimes to all who would listen. He falsely
claimed that he had done jobs with more renowned outlaws
like Jesse James and the Wild Bunch, and all that
attention seeking tipped off locals who spread the word. Soon
the United States Army was rumored to be heading to
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Miles City with a score to settle. Once more, the
gang was forced to flee. They made their way three
hundred miles north to Rocky Gap, where the men took
ranch jobs while keeping an ear out for stage coach runs.
When the men weren't working, they spent the evenings at
another local watering hole, planning to rob a paymaster's wagon
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due to arrive from Helena, but the wagons escort party
proved too large to take on. Without many stage coaches,
opportunities proved few and far between, and the gang headed
back to Wyoming. After failed attempts at multiple robberies and
run ins with angry and well armed ranchers, they returned
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to Miles City by now though Tom Irvin, the local sheriff,
had seen the wanted posters. While the rest of the
gang left town, George took refuge at a friend's cabin.
The sheriff had his own plan, had been watching the
cabin and noticed that a sex worker was a frequent visitor.
Irvin struck a deal with the woman, who reported back
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to him. Irvin hired two additional deputies, both of whom
George wouldn't know. They posed as prospect buyers to scope
out the property. The first time the men showed up,
they were met with rifles. When the men presented no threat,
George let his guard down. On the second visit, the
deputies were greeted unarmed. Then the sheriff came out of
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hiding and George was hauled off to jail. Once more.
The news traveled far and wide. Then another of the
murdered lawman's killers had been caught. Time hadn't reduced to
the anger of the people living in Carbon County. If anything,
it burned hotter and brighter than it ever had before.
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It was a big day for the authorities. On August
fourteenth of eighteen eighty, Sheriff Rankin arrived in Miles City
with extradition papers and a couple of newly sworn in deputies.
A posse formed to assist with safe passage for the
officials and their prisoner to the steamboat landing on the
Yellowstone River. The sheriff had taken no chances. Handcuffed and shackled,
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George wasn't going to escape. Once the steamboat docked in Omaha, Nebraska,
Rankin ushered the outlaw to the Union Pacific Railroad headquarters.
George's mug shot was taken, one of only two known
photos of him in existence. Then the interrogation began. Though
they tried for hours, Rankin and the others couldn't get
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a single confession. George repeatedly and calmly denied his involvement
in the robberies and the murders. When the train to Cheyenne,
Wyoming arrived, the officials continued the interrogation on route to
the next stop. Without a confession. The outlaw began to
feel pretty confident about as chances for another acquittal. One
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thing had to sit on his mind. Though. They were
headed to Rowlins, the same trip Dutch Charlie had taken,
and just like that trip, the train stopped for fuel
and water. As the train pulled into the station, George
noticed the stores were lit in celebration and people danced
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in the streets. Detecting that their prisoners seemed nervous, Rankin
and the deputies recounted the night the crowds had strung
up Dutch Charlie. They took turns telling the story how
the mob had dragged him to his fate. They spared
no detail. George began to sweat. As they finished with
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how the body had been discarded into a coal bin.
The doors to the cabin flew open. A dozen armed
and masked men stormed inside, easily overcoming the sheriff and deputies.
Rankin called upon the passengers to intervene, that justice should
be in the hands of the corps. The passengers eyed
the armed men, and, figuring an outlaw wasn't worth the effort,
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stayed in their seats. One masked man wielding an axe
broke George's shackles. Feeling pretty certain that the mob wasn't
there to rescue him, he grabbed one of the men's guns.
The struggle was short lived, and the men quickly wrestled
the gun away. They dragged George off the train. The
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train platform was a sea of angry men and women,
each of them calling to string him up. Some demanded
to know why he had killed the law men. Still
protesting to the bitter end, he denied both the robbery
attempt and the murders. His persistent innocence acted like a
fuel to a fire. Another angry round of string him
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up erupted. More hands grabbed him, and as they hauled
George from the platform, the chanting and cheering continued. He
begged them to shoot him instead, but they ignored his please.
They dragged him down the street to a corral. The
crowd applauded and cheered louder when someone tossed a rope
over a beam. One of the men placed the noose
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over his head. Faced with eminent death, George begged the
crowd once more, telling them he was scared, and asked
for a few moments to compose himself. The crowd quieted
down and waited. Finally, George confessed, at least somewhat. He
admitted that he was part of the gang, and that
they had killed the men because, as the old adage says,
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dead men told no tales. It had been Dutch Charlie's idea,
he insisted. Then he waited to see what they'd do
with his partially true confession behind him. He expected then
hang him anyway. Instead, the leader ordered him returned to
the sheriff. They had gotten a confession, after all, let
the courts order a legal execution. The group pushed and
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shoved him back to the station and tossed him unceremoniously
into the train car. Witnesses said George collapsed into a seat,
shaking and laughing until he cried. Outside. The crowd began
to dance again, and Rankin smiled at his prisoner. He
had a confession, and as far as he was concerned,
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the townfolk hadn't hung an innocent man the night that
strung up Dutch Charlie. George stayed in jail until the
preliminary hearings in September of eighteen eighty. Right from the
start he pled guilty, though once the court gave him
a lawyer, he recanted his confession. There wouldn't be an
acquittal this time. The case went to trial and the
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court found George guilty. On December sev the judge sentenced
him to death by hanging, scheduling the date of execution
for April second of eight one, between the hours of
ten and four. Bailiffs had to support George back to
his cell in an attempt to protest his execution, he
staged a hunger strike. It didn't take long to figure
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out that no one much cared if a condemned man
starved to death. When that failed, he claimed had repented
and had converted to Christianity in the hopes that his
captors would grant him more freedom, and it worked too.
Over time, they permitted George to roam the hall outside
his jail cell. Over the next few months, he collected
a knife and a piece of sandstone and began planning
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his escape. That day came when Sheriff Rankin left town,
putting his brother Robert in charge of the jail. On
the night of March twenty second, George used the knife
to file down the rivets on his leg shackles, and
then waited. As soon as Robert rounded the corner to
lock the prisoners in their cells, he leaped from his
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hiding place and struck the jailer in the head at
the eight pound shackles. Robert fought back, all the while
shouting for his wife. As you might imagine, Rosa didn't
take to the assault on her husband. Sitting down, she
sweet talked the outlaw back into a cell with a
loaded still leveled at his head while her sister went
for help. Later, the women were awarded a gold watching
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key in a velvet lined box for their service and bravery.
Needless to say, no one believed George had truly found
Jesus after that. The news of the attack, in the
form of Rose's sister running down the street in search
of help, enraged the citizens. Before long, a mob formed
outside the jail. Around ten that night, the mob burst
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through the door and stole the cell keys. A few
masked men headed towards the cells. Instead of being afraid,
George Oddley mistook their intention as a rescue mission. The
men whisked him from his cell and out onto the street.
The side of the mob made him realize his mistake.
They were there to watch him drop. With a sudden stop.
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They placed the noose around his neck, tied his hands,
and forced him onto a barrel under a telegraph pole.
The sister law of one of the murdered men, kicked
the barrel instead of hanging. The rope snapped, and George
tumbled to the ground, choking and gasping for air. Within
minutes they had another rope ready. They forced him up
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a twelve foot ladder and slid the noose around his neck.
Just as they pushed the ladder away, George managed to
slide his hands free and grab the telegraph pole. He
begged them to just shoot him. Instead, the mob grew
quiet and waited for him to lose his grip. The
news spread of how the citizens had hanged Big Nose
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George and Dutch Charlie. Other outlaws decided to slip out
of town rather than meet the same end. But hangings
weren't the only way citizens had of preventing would be
outlaws from messing with Carbon County, Wyoming. Because it seems
there really was a fate worse than death. No family
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stepped forward to aimed. George's body had abandoned them in
France years before. If any of the remaining gang members
were still alive, they knew better than to step foot
in Carbon County. But his corpse was claimed by two
doctors and their medical assistant. Doctors McGhee and Osbourne studied criminals,
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and they had a keen interest in George's brain. Surely
there had to be some abnormality that might explain his
criminal behavior. First, they made a death mask of George
then sawed off the top of the dead man's skull.
An autopsy of the brain turned up no clues. Though disappointed,
they decided to use the body for well other things.
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Assistant Lillian Heath, who would eventually go on to become
Wyoming's first female physician, took Big Nosed George's skull cap
as a souvenir. Dr Osborne sent George's body to a
tannery in Denver, ordering two things made from the human hide,
a pair shoes and a medical bag. The rest of
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the remains were dismembered, placed into a barrel, and buried.
Dr Osborne was quite proud of those shoes when the
people of Wyoming swore him in years later as governor,
he wore them to the inauguration and the ball that followed.
And then time moved on, The city grew and the
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story of Big Nose George slowly faded away. But seventy
years later, in nine a construction company came upon a
grizzly discovery a barrel with human remains inside. Law enforcement
were called in, but they determined that the body wasn't
recent and summoned historians instead. Noting the missing skull cap.
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They assumed they had found Big Nose George. To be sure, though,
they called the only person still alive who might be
able to solve the puzzle, doctor Lillian Heath. Intrigued, she
arrived with a skull cap in hand. Over the years
she had used it as a planter, a paper weight,
and even an ashtray. As she looked at the skull
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from the barrel, she placed the cap over the clean
hole on top, and it was a perfect fit, like
Cinderella's slipper, only darker. This time, George received a proper burial,
minus the skull cap and shoes. Of course, those, along
with the shackles, were all handed over to the Carbon
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County Museum as relics from a bygone day. The medical bag, though,
has never been recovered. There's more to this story. Stick
around after this brief sponsor break to hear all about it.
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Nay can be confusing. When he was born in Lancaster, Massachusetts,
in eighteen o nine, his parents called him James Allen.
Later on, though, he went by a number of different
aliases Jonas Pierce, James York and others, but mostly folks
called him George Walton. Orphaned as a child, his grandparents
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did the best they could to raise him, but when
he was a young teen, they too passed away. Now
entirely on his own, he returned to Lancaster. He applied
for work as a sailor, but was rejected. After holding
down a few odd jobs, he turned to crime, landing
him in jail at the age of fifteen. With time
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to kill, Walton read a lot and even learned a
few trades. After his release, he teamed up with a
former prisoner and the two went back to the life
they knew best, burglary. Like many of the legitimate jobs
he had held, Walton wasn't very good at stealing, and
saw him revisiting jail on and off for years. Each
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time he had read more and learn new skills, yet
upon release he always went right back to its criminal ways.
His favorite mode of operation was to hide just off
the side of the road, then jump out when a
wagon was passing by. He had level a pistol at
the driver and shout your money or your life. Normally,
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people chose their life, tossed him their money and fled,
but that didn't happen when Walton tried his routine on
a large and rather intimidating traveler named John Fenno. When
Walton made his usual demand, Fenno briefly paused to consider
the offer and then chose both. Walton had never been
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challenged before, and it took him by surprise before he
could back up his threat. Fenno leapt from the wagon
and the two fought. Moments later, Walton fired his pistol,
grazing Fenno's chest. Realizing he had just shot a man,
he fled. Authorities offered a one thousand dollar reward for
his capture, forcing Walton to go into hiding. The reward
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money proved too tempting to one of his own criminal friends,
and the man turned him in. Walton was convicted on
February twenty one, eighteen thirty four, and sentenced to serve
time at the State Penitentiary in Charlestown. Yes, he was
headed back behind bars, yet again, a common theme for
his life. This visit turned out to be a life sentence, though,
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but not because a judge said so. You see, while
he was in there, George Walton contracted tuberculosis, and apparently
the fatal illness changed him. That along with a surprise
visit from John Fennel Walton spent his last remaining days
in jail writing his own memoir. When he finished, he
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asked the warden to make two copies and then have
each bound into a book, but not with ordinary leather. No,
he requested that his own skin be used as a cover,
and amazingly, the warden followed through with it. After George
Walton died in eighty seven, the warden kept his promise
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and sent the body to a tannery and the memoir
to a printing press. Two copies were made. One stayed
with the warden and the other went to none other
than George's last victim, John Fenno. Both men kept those
books for the rest of their lives. Eventually, one copy
found its way to the Boston Atheneum's collection, and every
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year at Halloween the library puts the book on display
as part of their spooky offerings. It's unclear how that
copy ended up in the library's collection. Some believed Fenno's daughter,
feeling a lot less enamored with the book than her father,
donated it after inheriting his estate. But the second Coppy, Well,
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it seems the book is still missing. Maybe it's in
a private collection or perhaps it's sitting forgotten in an
attic in someone's home. Either way, I think it's fair
to say that George Walton's journey has come to a
dead end. American Shadows is hosted by Lauren Vogelbaum. This
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episode was written by Michelle Muto with researcher Robin Miniter,
and produced by Miranda Hawkins and Trevor Young, with executive
producers Aaron Minky, Alex Williams, and Matt Frederick. To learn
more about the show, visit Grim and Mild dot com.
For more podcasts from my Heart Radio, visit the I
Heart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.
(34:00):
Who
You're listening to American Shadows, a production of I Heart
Radio and Grim and Mild from Aaron Manky. Tales of
the American West have long fascinated us. Stories of cowboys,
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wagon trains, and gold rushes speak to an unpamed spirit
in the eye for adventure. Even after the Civil War,
news articles about the new Western frontier were read as
eagerly as the latest bestsellers. Maybe the appeal stemmed from
the long ravages of war the West offered a new
way of life, or perhaps people were enthralled by the
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draw of possibilities out in open country where people struck
it rich in gold, oil, or land. But it wasn't
the prairies or distant mountains alone. People were the real story,
especially horse thieves and cattle wrestlers, as well as bank,
train and stagecoach robbers. Equally fascinating were the lawmen who
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went after them. When it comes to the sheriffs and
marshalls wearing that gold star, many of us undoubtedly think
of why Morgan and Virgil earp along with their friend
Doc Holiday. Of all the histories surrounding them, none is
more enduring than the shootout at the Okay Corral. Though
the gunfight itself lasted only thirty seconds. As for cattle wrestlers,
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horse thieves, and murderers, names like Billy the Kid made
for great headlines. The kid nickname stemmed from his age.
He was just twenty one when he died, which was
also the number of men that he killed. Cattle and
horse theft might have been the equivalent of a Wild
West car theft ring, but the real money was in
robbing banks, stage coaches, and trains. From Jesse James to
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the Dalton Gang, armed robberies were as much a part
of the West as cowboys and saloons. Jesse James pulled
off nineteen robberies. The Dalton Gang started as lawmen before
finding better pay pulling off bank heists and robbing trains.
Part of their claim to fame was not one, but
two bank robberies at the same time in broad daylight.
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But few have ever captured our attention like Butch Cassidy
and the Sun Dance Kid. Born Robert Leroy Parker, he
adopted the Cassidy moniker to protect his family's good name.
He left home early, finding life in cattle wrestling more
lucrative than small town work. Soon his gang known as
the Wild Bunch, began robbing trains. Their heists were always
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well planned. Occasionally the addresses waiters at gala events to
gain information on the trains would be on them and
other details to help them pull off the job. Cassidy
had a reputation for never batting an eye during a robbery,
but he did have a weak spot. His lack of
etiquette knowledge made him incredibly nervous as he did his
best to properly serve the rich party guests. Harry Longabu,
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also known as the Sun Dance Kid, didn't meet Cassidy
until they worked at a ranch together. While they would
end up two of the most famous outlaws, neither was
prone to gun violence. In fact, people thought they were
friendly and everyone said they were helpful. Though Cassidy and
sun Dance pulled off robberies that would be worth ten
million today, they had a code of ethics assure they
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had robbed trains and banks, but common folk were off limits.
Cassidy never shot anyone during a hold up either. Lawmen
on their trail labeled them as the most shrewd and
daring outlaws in the West, but don't mistake daring for carelessness.
The gang's success came from Cassidy and sun Dances meticulous planning.
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The men spent hours training horses in ways that aided
the gang in their robberies. They also took their time planning,
often months, to avoid capture. No detail was too small.
Over the years, though they tired of life on the run.
Cassidy once asked a lawyer if he couldn't do something
to earn himself a pardon and settle down. Disheartened but
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not surprised at the answer, he made plans with Sundance
for one last heist that used the money to fund
a new way of life in Bolivia. Down in South America.
They pulled it off too. Before leaving, Cassidy stopped by
a local ranchers place. The rancher's son had always been
enamored with Cassidy's horse, and the outlaw gifted it to him.
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The two fled to South America after that. It's still
a mystery whether they died during a shootout with the
Pinkerton detectives who eventually tracked them down, or if they
escaped once more. DNA from the bodies at the side
of the shootout has since proved they were not Cassidy
or sun Dance. No matter whether you envision an epic
shootout where Butch and Sundance died in a blaze of
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glory or an ingenious dodge where they once again planned
the perfect escape, They've left us with an enduring and
legendary story. Some outlaws, though, have left behind something darker.
I'm Lauren Vogelbaum. Welcome to American Shadows. His name was
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George Friederic Menus. Maybe you've never heard of a French
Wild West outlaw, but George was born in Montbeille, of
France on March eighteen thirty four. He was married there too,
to Lucie Mathilde m Lindon. The two shared deep roots
in the area and soon became parents to a boy.
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All seemed well until George left his family and traveled
to America on April seventeenth of eighteen sixty two. While
that alone wasn't done heard of, plenty of immigrants established
themselves in America before sending for their families, but George didn't.
He cut ties and changed his first name to George
and his last name to Parrot like the bird, but
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with a second tea and sure immigrants often changed their
names in an attempt to fit in, or maybe to
make a name easier for English speakers to pronounce George,
though given his appearance, it seems more likely that he
took the physical feature and embraced it. He stood five
ft ten and weighed a hundred and sixty pounds. His
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hair and mustache were dark and bushy, and his eyes
were dark and heavily litted. George wasn't really considered handsome,
but he did have one standout feature, his nose. His
nose was large. Some say it looked like a parrot's beak,
hence the nickname's big Nose George and big beak Parrot.
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George headed west, where the lore and promise of land
parcels were common and railroads made the trip easy. Some
of the largest and richest employers were also out west.
Once into Code territory, George found that an honest man
could make an honest day's wages if he was willing
to put in the back breaking work. He found employment
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as a freight wagon driver, hauling supplies to gold rushed towns.
From there, he worked the railroad on gold or shipments
to the Union Pacific Railroad depots in Sydney, Nebraska and Cheyenne, Wyoming,
all honest work and honest pay. George found the competition tough,
though the West was full of other immigrants and settlers,
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all trying to cash in on the government's offer of
free land, much to the Dakota people's dismay. As you
might imagine, the West was pretty close to a free
for all. Sure, there were law men, but in some
cases by the barest of definitions. Before long, George found
a lucrative job with a gang of seven cattle wrestlers.
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Stage coaches became their next target. After a string of
successful robberies, the emboldened gang felt confident in their ability
to pull off something larger. This time, they set their
sights on the Union Pacific Railroad. Probably inspired by the
finesse with which Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid pulled
off train robberies. George and the gang might have thought
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it would be an easy payday. They'd leave the gold
it was heavy and made fast getaways difficult. Instead, they
set their sights on the payroll money that should be
on board. But George and the gang didn't train their horses,
nor did they infiltrate elite parties to glean information on
their intended target. They went with the basic knowledge that
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the train sometimes carried payroll. On Sunday, August eighteen seventy eight,
they took a page from other outlaws and loosened a
spike along a desolate stretch of track near Medicine Bow.
When the train derailed, their rest would be easy. All
they had to do was wait. Unfortunately for the outlaws,
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a large crew of repairmen arrived ahead of the train
to check the tracks. They hadn't thought of this. One
of the gang members wanted to kill the servicemen, but
George and another member thought missing linemen would raise a
red flag. Frustrated, the would be robbers had to wait
in hiding all day until the repair crew left before
removing the spike again. Their lack of planning became their undoing.
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Missing spikes had become a popular technique among train robbers,
and the repairman reported the instant upon their return. The
train stayed at the station while George and the others
waited for it to arrive. When it didn't, the gang
realized their mistake and fled. Authorities weren't far behind, though,
a search party along with the Carbon County Sheriff Robert
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Whiteford and Railroad special agent H. H. Vincent were on
the men's trail. The two had a good idea of
who they were looking for. George and the others had
been spotted in the area just days before. The lawmen
separated from the rest of the search team, finally coming
across the gang's hideout and rattlesnake can in, finding evidence
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that the camp had recently been vacated. They knew they
were close, they just had no idea how close. George
and the others had decided to ambush the lawmen. Instead
of running outnumbered, widow Field and Vincent were killed. The
gang stole their weapons and valuables through the bodies into
the brush, and left, feeling secure that they had covered
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their tracks. Back in town, the remainder of the search
party suspected foul play. When Widowfield and Vincent didn't return,
they put together a larger search team. Ten days later,
they found the bodies. Officials in Carbon County quickly organized
a manhunt and offered a hefty reward two thousand dollars,
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which would be over fifty thousand in today's money. Widow
Field and Vincent were the first lawmen killed in the
line of duty, and authorities didn't care if George and
the others were captured, dead or alive. The gang had
a botched train robbery, empty pockets, and a price on
their heads. Naturally, they fled. Two men split from the group,
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taking their chances on their own. For a short while,
it looked like this plan worked. Their luck wouldn't hold though.
A string of bizarre twists soon began to unravel their plans,
and little did they know things were about to get worse. First,
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one of the outlaws died from tuberculosis. Another Dutch, Charlie Burris,
made the mistake of staying too close to town, and
the authorities captured him within weeks. Days after that, the
former fugitive sat handcuffed and shackled on a train heading
back to Carbon County. Sheriff Jim Rankin wrote along as
an escort to ensure Dutch Charlie made it to trial.
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The transport had been arranged quietly, but in a small
western town, secrets had a way of traveling at lightning speed.
As soon as the train stopped to refuel at that evening,
a group of armed and masked men burst into the cabin.
Within minutes, they had dragged Dutch Charlie outside where a
mob had gathered. Deciding that a court of law would
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take too long, the masked men beat the outlaw, finally
getting a full confession from him. The admission didn't save him, though.
The mob dragged Dutch Charlie to a telegraph pole and
strung him up as a message to other would be outlaws.
They left his body swinging at the end of the
rope a full day before cutting him down and chucking
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his body into a coal car, the rope still around
his neck. Despite hearing the news, the rest of the
gang returned to their old ways. They robbed a stagecoach
and made off with seven thousand dollars that would be
over seven hundred thousand today. Though it was their biggest
pay day yet, it had come at a cost. One
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member died from gunshot wounds. Once again, the gang found
themselves on the run. They rode for days, putting miles
behind them, finally stopping in Yellowstone County, Montana. With their
new wealth from a successful heist, two of the outlaws
decided that this was where they parted ways. George and
a couple of others stayed behind, though within a year
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they spent their entire windfall. One February night, the men
were sitting in a local saloon lamenting their lack of funds,
when they overheard that Morris Can, a merchant and one
of the richest men in Montana, was planning a trip
to North Dakota for supplies. The desperadoes went right to
work on a plan. A military ambulance and an escort
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of fifteen soldiers were also making their way to North Dakota,
and Can had managed to secure passage with them. Sweetening
the deal, the soldiers would be carrying a neighboring town's payroll.
All George and the gang needed to do must follow
the caravan beyond the Powder River, crossing into the steep
walled valley beyond it. If they timed it just right,
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Can and the others would walk straight into an ambush.
And the plan worked. When the first segment of riders
entered the valley and made the first turn around large boulders,
George and two others held them at gunpoint, then secured
them and their weapons. Moments later, the second group, including Can,
rounded the bend and found themselves looking down the barrels
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of several shotguns. All the men were robbed of cash
and valuables. To add insult, the outlaws took hands peach, Brandy,
and the lead sergeant's horse. As the gang rode off,
they tossed the wagon driver a cigar. They fled across
the Yellowstone River before doubling back north, returning to Miles
City in Montana. It had gone perfectly, they thought, except
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for one thing. Despite wearing bandanas and wide brimmed hats
pulled down over their eyes, George's big nose had given
them away. It didn't take long before authorities arrested him.
Of course, bragging about the exploit didn't do him any favors,
but although he was put on trial for the robbery,
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no one made the connection to the wanted poster for
murder just a few miles south. During the trial, a
witness testified that George had been in Buffalo Springs at
the time of the hold up, making it impossible for
him to have been in Powder Springs. The witnesses had
been paid for the testimony, but it did the trick.
The case ended with an acquittal. George felt rather pleased
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with himself, and once back at the saloon, he bragged
about the crimes to all who would listen. He falsely
claimed that he had done jobs with more renowned outlaws
like Jesse James and the Wild Bunch, and all that
attention seeking tipped off locals who spread the word. Soon
the United States Army was rumored to be heading to
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Miles City with a score to settle. Once more, the
gang was forced to flee. They made their way three
hundred miles north to Rocky Gap, where the men took
ranch jobs while keeping an ear out for stage coach runs.
When the men weren't working, they spent the evenings at
another local watering hole, planning to rob a paymaster's wagon
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due to arrive from Helena, but the wagons escort party
proved too large to take on. Without many stage coaches,
opportunities proved few and far between, and the gang headed
back to Wyoming. After failed attempts at multiple robberies and
run ins with angry and well armed ranchers, they returned
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to Miles City by now though Tom Irvin, the local sheriff,
had seen the wanted posters. While the rest of the
gang left town, George took refuge at a friend's cabin.
The sheriff had his own plan, had been watching the
cabin and noticed that a sex worker was a frequent visitor.
Irvin struck a deal with the woman, who reported back
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to him. Irvin hired two additional deputies, both of whom
George wouldn't know. They posed as prospect buyers to scope
out the property. The first time the men showed up,
they were met with rifles. When the men presented no threat,
George let his guard down. On the second visit, the
deputies were greeted unarmed. Then the sheriff came out of
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hiding and George was hauled off to jail. Once more.
The news traveled far and wide. Then another of the
murdered lawman's killers had been caught. Time hadn't reduced to
the anger of the people living in Carbon County. If anything,
it burned hotter and brighter than it ever had before.
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It was a big day for the authorities. On August
fourteenth of eighteen eighty, Sheriff Rankin arrived in Miles City
with extradition papers and a couple of newly sworn in deputies.
A posse formed to assist with safe passage for the
officials and their prisoner to the steamboat landing on the
Yellowstone River. The sheriff had taken no chances. Handcuffed and shackled,
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George wasn't going to escape. Once the steamboat docked in Omaha, Nebraska,
Rankin ushered the outlaw to the Union Pacific Railroad headquarters.
George's mug shot was taken, one of only two known
photos of him in existence. Then the interrogation began. Though
they tried for hours, Rankin and the others couldn't get
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a single confession. George repeatedly and calmly denied his involvement
in the robberies and the murders. When the train to Cheyenne,
Wyoming arrived, the officials continued the interrogation on route to
the next stop. Without a confession. The outlaw began to
feel pretty confident about as chances for another acquittal. One
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thing had to sit on his mind. Though. They were
headed to Rowlins, the same trip Dutch Charlie had taken,
and just like that trip, the train stopped for fuel
and water. As the train pulled into the station, George
noticed the stores were lit in celebration and people danced
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in the streets. Detecting that their prisoners seemed nervous, Rankin
and the deputies recounted the night the crowds had strung
up Dutch Charlie. They took turns telling the story how
the mob had dragged him to his fate. They spared
no detail. George began to sweat. As they finished with
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how the body had been discarded into a coal bin.
The doors to the cabin flew open. A dozen armed
and masked men stormed inside, easily overcoming the sheriff and deputies.
Rankin called upon the passengers to intervene, that justice should
be in the hands of the corps. The passengers eyed
the armed men, and, figuring an outlaw wasn't worth the effort,
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stayed in their seats. One masked man wielding an axe
broke George's shackles. Feeling pretty certain that the mob wasn't
there to rescue him, he grabbed one of the men's guns.
The struggle was short lived, and the men quickly wrestled
the gun away. They dragged George off the train. The
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train platform was a sea of angry men and women,
each of them calling to string him up. Some demanded
to know why he had killed the law men. Still
protesting to the bitter end, he denied both the robbery
attempt and the murders. His persistent innocence acted like a
fuel to a fire. Another angry round of string him
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up erupted. More hands grabbed him, and as they hauled
George from the platform, the chanting and cheering continued. He
begged them to shoot him instead, but they ignored his please.
They dragged him down the street to a corral. The
crowd applauded and cheered louder when someone tossed a rope
over a beam. One of the men placed the noose
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over his head. Faced with eminent death, George begged the
crowd once more, telling them he was scared, and asked
for a few moments to compose himself. The crowd quieted
down and waited. Finally, George confessed, at least somewhat. He
admitted that he was part of the gang, and that
they had killed the men because, as the old adage says,
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dead men told no tales. It had been Dutch Charlie's idea,
he insisted. Then he waited to see what they'd do
with his partially true confession behind him. He expected then
hang him anyway. Instead, the leader ordered him returned to
the sheriff. They had gotten a confession, after all, let
the courts order a legal execution. The group pushed and
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shoved him back to the station and tossed him unceremoniously
into the train car. Witnesses said George collapsed into a seat,
shaking and laughing until he cried. Outside. The crowd began
to dance again, and Rankin smiled at his prisoner. He
had a confession, and as far as he was concerned,
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the townfolk hadn't hung an innocent man the night that
strung up Dutch Charlie. George stayed in jail until the
preliminary hearings in September of eighteen eighty. Right from the
start he pled guilty, though once the court gave him
a lawyer, he recanted his confession. There wouldn't be an
acquittal this time. The case went to trial and the
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court found George guilty. On December sev the judge sentenced
him to death by hanging, scheduling the date of execution
for April second of eight one, between the hours of
ten and four. Bailiffs had to support George back to
his cell in an attempt to protest his execution, he
staged a hunger strike. It didn't take long to figure
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out that no one much cared if a condemned man
starved to death. When that failed, he claimed had repented
and had converted to Christianity in the hopes that his
captors would grant him more freedom, and it worked too.
Over time, they permitted George to roam the hall outside
his jail cell. Over the next few months, he collected
a knife and a piece of sandstone and began planning
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his escape. That day came when Sheriff Rankin left town,
putting his brother Robert in charge of the jail. On
the night of March twenty second, George used the knife
to file down the rivets on his leg shackles, and
then waited. As soon as Robert rounded the corner to
lock the prisoners in their cells, he leaped from his
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hiding place and struck the jailer in the head at
the eight pound shackles. Robert fought back, all the while
shouting for his wife. As you might imagine, Rosa didn't
take to the assault on her husband. Sitting down, she
sweet talked the outlaw back into a cell with a
loaded still leveled at his head while her sister went
for help. Later, the women were awarded a gold watching
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key in a velvet lined box for their service and bravery.
Needless to say, no one believed George had truly found
Jesus after that. The news of the attack, in the
form of Rose's sister running down the street in search
of help, enraged the citizens. Before long, a mob formed
outside the jail. Around ten that night, the mob burst
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through the door and stole the cell keys. A few
masked men headed towards the cells. Instead of being afraid,
George Oddley mistook their intention as a rescue mission. The
men whisked him from his cell and out onto the street.
The side of the mob made him realize his mistake.
They were there to watch him drop. With a sudden stop.
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They placed the noose around his neck, tied his hands,
and forced him onto a barrel under a telegraph pole.
The sister law of one of the murdered men, kicked
the barrel instead of hanging. The rope snapped, and George
tumbled to the ground, choking and gasping for air. Within
minutes they had another rope ready. They forced him up
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a twelve foot ladder and slid the noose around his neck.
Just as they pushed the ladder away, George managed to
slide his hands free and grab the telegraph pole. He
begged them to just shoot him. Instead, the mob grew
quiet and waited for him to lose his grip. The
news spread of how the citizens had hanged Big Nose
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George and Dutch Charlie. Other outlaws decided to slip out
of town rather than meet the same end. But hangings
weren't the only way citizens had of preventing would be
outlaws from messing with Carbon County, Wyoming. Because it seems
there really was a fate worse than death. No family
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stepped forward to aimed. George's body had abandoned them in
France years before. If any of the remaining gang members
were still alive, they knew better than to step foot
in Carbon County. But his corpse was claimed by two
doctors and their medical assistant. Doctors McGhee and Osbourne studied criminals,
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and they had a keen interest in George's brain. Surely
there had to be some abnormality that might explain his
criminal behavior. First, they made a death mask of George
then sawed off the top of the dead man's skull.
An autopsy of the brain turned up no clues. Though disappointed,
they decided to use the body for well other things.
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Assistant Lillian Heath, who would eventually go on to become
Wyoming's first female physician, took Big Nosed George's skull cap
as a souvenir. Dr Osborne sent George's body to a
tannery in Denver, ordering two things made from the human hide,
a pair shoes and a medical bag. The rest of
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the remains were dismembered, placed into a barrel, and buried.
Dr Osborne was quite proud of those shoes when the
people of Wyoming swore him in years later as governor,
he wore them to the inauguration and the ball that followed.
And then time moved on, The city grew and the
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story of Big Nose George slowly faded away. But seventy
years later, in nine a construction company came upon a
grizzly discovery a barrel with human remains inside. Law enforcement
were called in, but they determined that the body wasn't
recent and summoned historians instead. Noting the missing skull cap.
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They assumed they had found Big Nose George. To be sure, though,
they called the only person still alive who might be
able to solve the puzzle, doctor Lillian Heath. Intrigued, she
arrived with a skull cap in hand. Over the years
she had used it as a planter, a paper weight,
and even an ashtray. As she looked at the skull
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from the barrel, she placed the cap over the clean
hole on top, and it was a perfect fit, like
Cinderella's slipper, only darker. This time, George received a proper burial,
minus the skull cap and shoes. Of course, those, along
with the shackles, were all handed over to the Carbon
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County Museum as relics from a bygone day. The medical bag, though,
has never been recovered. There's more to this story. Stick
around after this brief sponsor break to hear all about it.
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Nay can be confusing. When he was born in Lancaster, Massachusetts,
in eighteen o nine, his parents called him James Allen.
Later on, though, he went by a number of different
aliases Jonas Pierce, James York and others, but mostly folks
called him George Walton. Orphaned as a child, his grandparents
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did the best they could to raise him, but when
he was a young teen, they too passed away. Now
entirely on his own, he returned to Lancaster. He applied
for work as a sailor, but was rejected. After holding
down a few odd jobs, he turned to crime, landing
him in jail at the age of fifteen. With time
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to kill, Walton read a lot and even learned a
few trades. After his release, he teamed up with a
former prisoner and the two went back to the life
they knew best, burglary. Like many of the legitimate jobs
he had held, Walton wasn't very good at stealing, and
saw him revisiting jail on and off for years. Each
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time he had read more and learn new skills, yet
upon release he always went right back to its criminal ways.
His favorite mode of operation was to hide just off
the side of the road, then jump out when a
wagon was passing by. He had level a pistol at
the driver and shout your money or your life. Normally,
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people chose their life, tossed him their money and fled,
but that didn't happen when Walton tried his routine on
a large and rather intimidating traveler named John Fenno. When
Walton made his usual demand, Fenno briefly paused to consider
the offer and then chose both. Walton had never been
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challenged before, and it took him by surprise before he
could back up his threat. Fenno leapt from the wagon
and the two fought. Moments later, Walton fired his pistol,
grazing Fenno's chest. Realizing he had just shot a man,
he fled. Authorities offered a one thousand dollar reward for
his capture, forcing Walton to go into hiding. The reward
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money proved too tempting to one of his own criminal friends,
and the man turned him in. Walton was convicted on
February twenty one, eighteen thirty four, and sentenced to serve
time at the State Penitentiary in Charlestown. Yes, he was
headed back behind bars, yet again, a common theme for
his life. This visit turned out to be a life sentence, though,
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but not because a judge said so. You see, while
he was in there, George Walton contracted tuberculosis, and apparently
the fatal illness changed him. That along with a surprise
visit from John Fennel Walton spent his last remaining days
in jail writing his own memoir. When he finished, he
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asked the warden to make two copies and then have
each bound into a book, but not with ordinary leather. No,
he requested that his own skin be used as a cover,
and amazingly, the warden followed through with it. After George
Walton died in eighty seven, the warden kept his promise
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and sent the body to a tannery and the memoir
to a printing press. Two copies were made. One stayed
with the warden and the other went to none other
than George's last victim, John Fenno. Both men kept those
books for the rest of their lives. Eventually, one copy
found its way to the Boston Atheneum's collection, and every
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year at Halloween the library puts the book on display
as part of their spooky offerings. It's unclear how that
copy ended up in the library's collection. Some believed Fenno's daughter,
feeling a lot less enamored with the book than her father,
donated it after inheriting his estate. But the second Coppy, Well,
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it seems the book is still missing. Maybe it's in
a private collection or perhaps it's sitting forgotten in an
attic in someone's home. Either way, I think it's fair
to say that George Walton's journey has come to a
dead end. American Shadows is hosted by Lauren Vogelbaum. This
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episode was written by Michelle Muto with researcher Robin Miniter,
and produced by Miranda Hawkins and Trevor Young, with executive
producers Aaron Minky, Alex Williams, and Matt Frederick. To learn
more about the show, visit Grim and Mild dot com.
For more podcasts from my Heart Radio, visit the I
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