BLACK BART: THE POET BANDIT........And Legends & Lies... By Gail L. Jenner

Not much  has been written in fictional form about California's most successful stage bandit, Charles Boles (Bowles), aka BLACK BART. His life was an enigma to many; born and raised in New York, he traveled west during the gold rush to California. After trying his hand at mining, and after the death of one brother, he returned to NY, then settled for a time in Illinois. There he married; he taught school for awhile, but when war broke out, he enlisted in the 116th  Illinois Volunteer Infantry. A good soldier, he was wounded and promoted to sergeant. Returning to his wife after mustering out, he tried farming, but found it frustrating and disappointing.

Charles was well-schooled and liked by all who ever met him. But, as my grandmother would have said, "he was a ne'er do well."  Easily frustrated, wanting to make his way but not knowing how, he tried many things, but to no avail. Sadly, he abandoned his wife and daughters after an infant son died. Hoping to make his fortune again through gold mining, he went to Montana, c. 1872. Again, he was unsuccessful. By now, however, he was growing more and more frustrated. 

History does not give us a lot of clues about why or how, but Charles did return to California for gold. But THIS time, he decided to steal it. Dressed in a duster and sack over his head (under which he wore a derby to make him appear taller) and armed with a plugged shotgun, he successfully held up 28 Wells' Fargo stage coaches all over Northern California without firing a shot. Called the poet bandit, he left verse, poorly rhymed and humorous, at the site of two of his hold ups. 

James Hume, Wells' Fargo's chief detective, became obsessed with capturing Charles. Ironically, these two men had more in common than one might assume (including their profiles!). And so their game of cat-and-mouse began; for several years, Charles outsmarted Hume and the lawmen who tried to catch him. Ironically, too, it was a boy who finally shot the bullet that hit Charles (not fatally, just in the hand), which eventually led to his arrest in San Francisco.  He served 4 1/2 years of a six-year sentence in San Quentin.....and then.....?

As noted at the outset, there has never been a novel written about Charles's life -- except for the one I coauthored with fellow historian, Lou Legerton, titled: BLACK BART: THE POET BANDIT -- even though there have been numerous articles and newspaper profiles of this infamous but fascinating man.

Because of my connection to this story, I was invited to be interviewed for an upcoming episode of "Legends and Lies," narrated and produced by Bill O'Reilly, to be aired on Sunday, May 10, on the Fox News Channel. Others have also been interviewed, but I invite you to watch the episode....it was great fun! (The link will take you to a video clip of it....) 

Of course, as with all television programming, it will be interesting to see how little or how much I'm included in the episode!  However, one important note: Lou and I were given the FIFTH only known photograph of Charles, by his great niece, which I did share with the producers of the show. I hope it makes its way into the episode!

I'm ending here with the Prologue of our novel : BLACK BART: THE POET BANDIT.

PROLOGUE

January 21, 1888

            Charles stepped out into the foggy morning and sighed. He knew there’d be a crowd, and he wasn’t disappointed. Reporters, in dark suits and heavy coats, were awaiting his appearance.

            “Mr. Bolton,” called one, raising his pencil, “how does it feel to be a free man?”

            Charles took a long, deep breath. “I can’t lie, fellows. It feels good.”

            The reporter nodded. “You’ve had enough thieving?”

            Charles smiled as he looked around at the blur of eager faces. “Oh, I’m done with Black Bart and my life of crime. For one thing, I’ve grown a bit deaf and need spectacles. That would present a bit of a problem for a stage bandit, don’t you think?”

            The men in dark suits laughed.

            A second reporter stepped forward. “But what of your literary efforts, Mr. Bolton? Are you through writing poetry? You know, our readers enjoyed the verse.”

            A ripple of good-hearted cheers passed through the crowd.

            Charles tapped the brim of the bowler he’d been given by the warden just this morning. “If I managed a bit of a rhyme,” he said, tilting his chin, “like, as not, it might add to my time. It’s better left dead, buried alive, filled with lead—but I thank ye for asking, my fine friend.”

 A round of applause erupted before Charles could continue. “Like I said, sir, I’m done with my life of crime.”

“And what about Mr. Hume? Has Wells, Fargo & Company given you any advice?”

“I would hope Mr. Hume is satisfied that justice was served,” said Charles. In truth, the Wells, Fargo & Company detective had avoided contact with him since his incarceration at San Quentin, but Charles knew the man was following his every move. No doubt he’d been disappointed when Charles was given an early release.

“You’ve not served your full sentence, and it’s been said that Mr. Hume is apoplectic over this turn of events. He says it’s a foolhardy gesture.”

“Gentlemen,” interrupted Charles, “I served my time and did so with no complaints. How can Mr. Hume be anything but satisfied? I’m satisfied,” he added, winking at a man near him.

“Here, here!” responded the man warmly.

Suddenly another journalist at the back of the crowd spoke up. “I do believe he questions your contrite heart, Mr. Bolton. After all, you did manage to fool him twenty-eight times. Perhaps even more than that, if all were told?”

Charles tried to capture the man’s glance. “I was able to keep Wells, Fargo & Company rather busy, wasn’t I?”

Those nearest him smiled and nodded.

“But you’re not repentant?” came the immediate reply from the back.

“Oh, I have much to repent, as do we all,” Charles said, his steady gaze on the reporter who had finally moved into his line of vision. He was handsome, young, and eager. “In fact, I would suggest,” he added, “that when you take the measure of a man, sir, be sure to take the full measure.”

“Very well. Does that mean there is something you’d like to add to your story? Our readers are anxious to know what you are about. Why you chose to rob only Wells, Fargo & Company, for instance.”

Charles grimaced as he considered the question. Tell all?

No, he’d not give these men, or anyone, such satisfaction. “May I get back to you?” He faced the rest of the crowd. “For now, I just want a beef steak and a glass of ale.”

“Indeed,” returned another man.

Just then a coach pulled up.

The crowd fell back and gave Charles clear passage even as they scribbled across their notepads. He moved past them, nodding to those closest.

“Good luck, Mr. Bolton.”

Charles stopped.

The earnest young journalist had moved to the end of the line of dark suits and his gaze was clear and focused.  “Remember, sir, I’d appreciate your story in full, if you ever have a mind to share it. I work for the San Francisco Examiner,” he added, “and the name’s Randolph Hearst.”

 +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

For more on Gail L. Jenner's writing, visit her author site on Prairie Rose Publishing

Or visit: www.gailjenner.com

Or visit: http://www.amazon.com/Gail-Fiorini-Jenner/e/B005GHR47O

THE CHINESE LAUNDRY: A nearly forgotten piece of San Francisco History By Gail L. Jenner

As a writer, it's always interesting to pursue those often overlooked details involving, for example, the more intimate details of life. I recently found some fascinating history on the mundane subject of laundry -- or, more precisely, the infamous and stereotyped Chinese launderer. There were hundreds of Chinese laundries and washermen throughout the West; even on my husband's family's five-generational ranch, there was a hired Chinese launderer. He never married, but was counted in the family census and lived with the family for many years. I believe he passed away in the mid-1930s.

For anyone in the early days of the West, clean clothes were almost a luxury! We've all seen the old pictures of women using scrub boards or banging clothes on rocks over a stream, and certainly that was the way pioneer women laundered their clothes before the first wringer machines were invented.

Because cleanliness was difficult to maintain on the plains, on the trail or in mining camps, or around the farm or ranch, it's easy to understand why women wore large aprons, hoping to preserve some semblance of respectability, ie: cleanliness. It also explains why Sunday clothes were reserved just for Sunday go-to-meetings or other special occasions. Even wedding dresses were often altered or dyed and used again. "Better" dresses or suits were maintained by heavy brushing and being hung out in the sunshine to reduce odors. For obvious reasons they were not cleaned often.

I recognized how limited early women's wardrobes were when we moved into my husband's great grandparents' farmhouse. There were no clothes closets in any of the rooms (in fact, the last time the upstairs had been painted or updated was 1898!). There was a single "wardrobe" or armoire in each room, and only 3 or 4 hooks inside each of them. Certainly that's not much space for the kinds of clothes that now line our contemporary closets.

Within the pages of the historic material I've begun to collect, it was fascinating to read about San Francisco's burgeoning laundry market, an economic endeavor that attracted many Chinese immigrants; clearly it was one venture where they were not as persecuted by Caucasians and even achieved financial success. Of course, many left after the implementation of the Exclusion Act, although throughout the gold fields there were a number of successful Chinese stores, pack trains, mining companies, and the like.


Before the rush to the gold hills of California, laundry was done by Spanish-American or Indian women who worked along the edge of a small fresh-water lake
located about two miles west of San Francisco (Yerba Buena), at a place also known as "Washerwoman's Lagoon."  As noted in one source, "the water was soft, and the shore was covered with thorny scrub brush which answered admirably for drying." But as the new city grew, so did its need for laundry services. Many resisted paying the going rate of $8 per dozen shirts charged by French laundries, and some began sending their laundry off to China or Honolulu! Amazing to realize that laundry was shipped to these exotic locations, but ships arriving from China or the Sandwich Islands brought back hundreds of bundles of clean clothes.

Then things began to change:  even the Daily Alta California, San Francisco's leading newspaper, reported in 1850: "Much excitement was caused in the city last week by the reduction of washing prices from eight dollars to five dollars a dozen. There is now no excuse for citizens to wear soiled or colored shirts. The effect of the reduction is already manifest -- tobacco-juice bespattered bosoms are no longer the fashion."

Reportedly, it was an immigrant named Wah Lee who displayed the first laundry sign in San Francisco, announcing, "Wash'ng and Iron'ng" over the door of his business on Washington Street.  By 1876, there were approximately 300 Chinese laundries in the city, each one employing at least 5 men. The laundries were not confined to the area known as Chinatown, but were located throughout the city.

As a result of the number of immigrants entering the profession, the price for clean shirts dropped to $2 a dozen and business boomed. Even at Wah Lee's establishment, there were more than twenty washermen employed, and they cleaned clothes for individuals from as far away as Monterey or Sacramento. Eventually, the less numerous French laundries, as well as most of the Native American or Spanish-American washerwomen lost their hold on the flourishing laundry business in San Francisco.

It became a familiar sight to see a Chinese launderer with a pole across his shoulders from which hung two baskets, one on each end. Clean clothes were stacked in each basket and covered over with a cloth to keep them clean. Eventually San Francisco passed a law prohibiting these Chinese couriers from carrying their baskets in the streets. A few launderers who became much more prominent chose to drive small, black, covered buggies (or "vans"), the tops of which were covered with tin "to ward off the rocks thrown by ruffians."

Even though this was not the era of unions, within a short period of time, a protective Chinese society was established. It became a powerful organization that regulated the establishment of wash houses in San Francisco, even regulating how many "doors" must separate them; still, small stations and wash houses continue to spread through the city. This Chinese society -- or company, as it was called -- also settled disputes, collected dues, and managed the washermen's activities. Admission to the company cost an individual $10 and all workers had to attend meetings or pay a fine. Unfortunately, this society ran the washermen with an iron fist, even employing secret thugs to help keep the peace.

The Chinese laundry of old has now faded into history, seen only in westerns or old films. It's hard to contemplate their role in the lives of early San Francisco residents, but it was an important role in actuality. Interestingly enough, it was a simple "Chinese laundry mark" that led to the capture, arrest and conviction of Charles Boles, aka Black Bart; it was found on the handkerchief he dropped after his 29th holdup of a Wells Fargo stage coach in Copperopolis, California. So even such a mundane detail as a laundry mark became a significant historical detail!


Gail L. Jenner is the author of two historical novels, including BLACK BART: THE POET BANDIT, the story of California's most successful stage bandit who used a plugged shotgun, only targeted Wells Fargo stage coaches, and left poetry at the site of two of his 28 holdups. The enigmatic outlaw was well-liked and was eventually captured by James Hume, the Wells Fargo detective. He served 4 1/2 years in San Quentin then disappeared from history.

For more about Gail, visit:  www.gailjenner.com or http://prairierosepublications.yolasite.com/gail-l-jenner.php