It's funny to try to describe to children of this generation how we used to take sticks, divide into teams, pick a side (Cowboys or Indians) and then proceed to hunt each other down by shooting the other person with our wooden branch.
Let me stop here and emphasize the honesty aspect in this game for those who have had no real experience playing this game. No one wanted to play with someone who never admitted they had been shot. The ethics of the game relied on the sportsmanship of all who were playing. It was a very precise way of determining the character of the neighborhood kids who were participating. And this proved to be an handy metric for our future relationships . . .
So how did you know when you were shot? This outcome was determined by our micro-second reflex reactions, supernatural eyesight and keen hearing. When you leaned around the rock or tree where you were hiding, did you see your enemy first or did he see you? Usually this was determined by who yelled, "Gotcha!" first (or loudest). Many a battle was paused for what seemed like hours as we worked out the intricate details of our deadly skirmishes.
In real life, the results of gunfights tended to be more immediate and were rarely in doubt. Take the case of "Wild Bill" Hickok, who most historians agree was one of the fastest guns in the west. One day at the #10 Salon in Deadwood, Wild Bill was playing poker. His focus was on the game, and not on the man who entered the salon with a singular focus. As Wild Bill studied his cards, the Ace of Spades, the Ace of Clubs, the eight of Clubs and the eight of Spades and the Joker, little did he know this would be the last sight he would ever see.
The day before, on a cool August morning, Wild Bill had also been playing poker at the #10. He was sitting, as was his norm, with his back against the wall this due to his highly paranoid personality, and he was having a pretty good run. When one of the players had enough and dropped out, the very drunk (yes, very drunk in the morning) Jack McCall took his place. Being inebriated and risking your worldly fortune in a card game is not a smart combination. Jack McCall proceeded to lose his proverbial shirt and was quickly busted. Wild Bill, feeling compassion for Jack, offered to buy him breakfast and advised him to stop playing until he could cover his losses. McCall accepted the money, acted on the advice, but inwardly he was raging. (This could also be an affirmation for the saying, "No good deed goes unpunished). Pride, anger and humiliation were the emotions that Jack McCall wrestled with for the next twenty-four hours and anger had the winning hand.
The next day Wild Bill was playing poker again at the #10, however on this day, because his usual seat was taken, he had taken a seat with his back to the door. He never saw Jack McCall stride into the bar but the last words he heard were, "Damn you, take that!"
Jack fired his .45 into the back of Wild Bill's head, and Wild Bill died on the spot, holding what would become known as the dead man's hand from that point forward. Jack McCall would receive the penalty of death, (though it would take seven months, two trials and setting aside the legal precedent of double jeopardy) and was finally hanged for the murder of Wild Bill Hickok.
An interesting sidenote was the burial procession being described in the local paper as, "A motley group consisting of everyone from prospectors to prostitutes accompanied Wild Bill to his final resting place. Calamity Jane loudly proclaimed her devotion to Wild Bill, despite the fact that he had recently gotten married to someone else, and declared her intention to be buried next to him when death reached out for her. This wish was granted and to this day they are together, on a hillside in Deadwood, South Dakota. Wild Bill's killer was buried with the noose still around his neck in Yankton’s Catholic cemetery.
So in this gunfight, unlike most of our childhood reenactments, there was no doubt who lost their life that day. And if you ever visit Deadwood, South Dakota, check out the "death chair" mounted above the door of #10 Salon. It is one of the last relics of an long, lost age.
So in this gunfight, unlike most of our childhood reenactments, there was no doubt who lost their life that day. And if you ever visit Deadwood, South Dakota, check out the "death chair" mounted above the door of #10 Salon. It is one of the last relics of an long, lost age.
