"Wild Bill" Hickok...

It was the evening of July 20th, 1865.

"Wild Bill" Hickok was playing poker with a number of the regulars at a local saloon in Springfield, Missouri.

Springfield, as you may know, was just about the last true frontier town at the very end of what's come to be known as the "Old West."  That's the period from 1850 - 1895.  And I, The Chuckmeister, happen to be a generally-recognized expert thereon.  

Hey, we all have to be expert in something, don't we?

And so I thought I'd pass along one of the more colorful, and I trust thought-provoking, stories that springs forth from that time.   

One of the folks "Wild Bill" was playing poker with that night was a guy named Davis Tutt.  He and Bill were old acquaintances, if not actually friends.  They certainly knew one another well, Bill having "knocked up" Davis' sister, and Davis having secretly been courting Bill's girlfriend, a fact not withheld from the public.  

Being "cuckolded" back then was a big deal.  Ahem.

Anyway, Davis and Bill were playing poker.  Bill was disputing a $20 debt he supposedly owed Davis, and Davis wouldn't leave it alone.  And Bill by that time was flat broke and unable to pay this old debt.  Davis continued to carp about it until Bill gave him his prized pocket watch as collateral until the next morning, when Bill told Tutt he could get him the cash.

The next morning came.  Bill, through an emissary, sent Davis his $20.  Davis, through his spokesperson, refused to accept it, demanding an additional $10 as a "fine."  Bill, not surprisingly, took umbrage at this demand.  He sent word back to Davis that he'd meet him at the Town Square (yes, that was - and is - its name) if he didn't change his mind.  By this time Tutt couldn't back down.  Saving face was a Big Deal back then, just as it is today.  Except today it's couched as receiving "respect." 

So the die was cast.  The last "high noon-style" gunfight was set into motion (and the template for the Movie of the same name).  Wild Bill, the aging ex-sheriff and Army scout and Indian fighter and buffalo hunter and cattle drover, was about to burnish his already-rich legend.  And it was quite a legend, to be sure.

I've heard, but cannot confirm, that upon arising each day Bill would exit his dwelling and proceed to empty his matched set of .36 caliber Colt Navy revolvers at a handy nearby target.  And I gather there would usually be a crowd gathered to witness this bit of showmanship (he was famous by this time due to the plethora of "dime novels" about the Old West).  

His pistols, you see, were of the "cap and ball" variety, meaning one had to pour a measure of powder into each of their six cylinders before seating a round lead bullet on top.  The bullets would keep the powder from leaking out, but the moisture in the air might make the powder unable to fire after several hours.  Thus, Bill would shoot, and then reload, his guns every morning to make sure they were at the ready whenever needed.  

And they were needed that evening in Springfield, Missouri.

It was 6:00 p.m.  Bill walked onto the East end of the Town Square.  He called out, "Davis, here I am."  Davis slowly moved onto the Square from the West, toward Bill.  As soon as he stopped walking, he pulled his pistol and shot at Bill.  Bill saw him draw and pulled his pistol and shot, almost simultaneously.  The bullet from Tutt's gun whizzed over Bill's head.  Bill's bullet entered Davis Tutt's body between his 5th and 7th ribs, right through his heart.  He crawled a few steps toward the nearby saloon and uttered with his last breath, "Boys, I'm killed."

Wild Bill Hickock shot Davis Tutt from a distance of just over 75 yards!  That' 225 feet!  With a Colt Navy revolver!  Among the least accurate weapons one could choose at that distance.  Unless one was a true professional gunfighter.

There's a moral to this story, and one I'm happy to pass along.  In fact, I'll use one of my midwestern colloquialiasms (pardon the language) to help drive home the point.  Goes like this:

     "You F*** With The Bull,

         You Get The Horn."

I might pass along a word of warning to the O'Biden Administration.  The main difference between the United States and let's say Venezuela, or Cuba, or even Germany, Australia or Austria these days, places where their citizens' weapons have been seized by their governments, and the wildly authoritarian stances they've taken of late, is that some 100,000,000 of us still own just over 475 Million Guns here in America.  

And just might be incented to use them.  

A small indication of which might be the number of hunters who submitted requests for deer tags in the State of Wisconsin 2019.  Just this one state as an example.  That would be 600,000.  Or, if all assembled together, the 4th Largest Standing Army in the world.  It's true.  Google it.  And that's just one of our states.  Just imagine if ALL of those whose citizens are still armed got together and decided our Gubmint needed to be brought into check.  Which is why the 2nd Amendment was written.  Remember, 475 Million Guns.  And if we're forced to use them to remind our Gubmint who they work for, like a guy named Thomas Jefferson* warned us we just might, I'm pretty sure they just might...  

As the old adage goes, "A word to the wise should be sufficient." 

*  "The tree of liberty needs to be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants."