Boot Hill Unmasked: The Real People Behind Dodge City’s Deadliest Year

Boot Hill gets talked about like a legend, but legends get lazy. We wanted the names, the dates, and the ugly little details that show how Dodge City earned its reputation before the “classic” era of Wyatt Earp and Bat Masterson even settles in.

We walk through the earliest Boot Hill burials starting in 1872, when the railroad, soldiers from Fort Dodge, gamblers, buffalo hunters, and nonstop drinking turn a new town into a combustible mix. Stories like Jack Reynolds, the man remembered as Blackjack or Tex, the killing of hotel owner Carpenter J. M. Essington, and the violence in Tom Sherman’s dance hall make it clear that these were not neat Western showdowns. They were crowded, impulsive, and often senseless.

Then the episode turns to vigilante justice, the executions of Ed Williams and Charles “Texas” Hill, and the return of McGill, a buffalo hunter whose behavior becomes infamous. The real pivot point comes with the murder of William Taylor, a Black man and the private cook for Colonel Richard Dodge, and the military response that follows. That single killing helps push Dodge City toward formal law enforcement, the election of Sheriff Charlie Bassett, and a clearer divide in how ordinances are enforced north and south of the tracks.

If you’re into Dodge City history, Boot Hill history, or the truth behind Wild West myths, this is the ground-level story of how reputation is made and why a town eventually tries to bury it. Subscribe, share with a fellow Western history fan, and leave a review with the one Boot Hill story you think more people should know.

Transcript

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You know, here on Wild West Podcast, we talk a lot about the big famous names that came in and out of Dodge City over the years and just the American West in general. You know, the names that everybody knows, the Bat Mastersons, the Bill Tillmans, the Wyatt Herps, uh, all these guys. We even talk about some of the lesser-known folks, the infamous ones, the ones that don't get movies and TV shows and big books dedicated to them, but were every bit as important in telling the story of Dodge City in Western development uh as the names that that every school kid knows. We even talk a lot about Boot Hill in Dodge City and what that represented to the town and to Western culture, and why Boot Hill kind of put Dodge City on the map, uh, so to speak, in in a uh, I guess in a derogatory sense. What we never talk about, and what most people never talk about, is the actual names that were buried on Boot Hill. Those bodies uh everyone used to be a living person. Uh, and and I think that their stories deserve to be told, at least in some cases, the the very few details that we truly do know about them. Uh, these are the guys who made Boot Hill the location that it was, uh, and their stories definitely deserve to be told. Boot Hill started to be populated in Dodge City uh as early as the summer, early fall of 1872, when Dodge City was very much in its infancy. Dodge City was known by many monikers uh over the years, the wickedest little city in America. Comparisons to Babylon were not at all unfounded. And it's these stories of violence and death that populated Boot Hill that gave rise to those monikers. And honestly, when we read some of these stories, they didn't even hardly scratch the surface. So, one of the earliest names that we do know who was buried on Boot Hill in Dodge City was a man by the name of Jack Reynolds. The date was September 5th, 1872. Jack was described as a notoriously mean and contemptible desperado. Jack, for whatever reason, we don't know the cause of the affair, got in a fight with one of the tracklayers who was still coming through Dodge City at that time. The Atchison Topeke and the Santa Fe Railway arrived in Dodge City in early September of 1872. So it was a very, very active uh hub for railroad development. A lot of track layers, a lot of railroad workers there in the midst of the soldiers from the fort, all of the itinerants, the buffalo hunters, uh, all of the alcohol intake that was happening in the growing town. Violence was bound to happen. It was a combustible powder keg ready to blow. And Jack was one of the first that really set off that match. So he got in a fight with a tracklayer, and the tracklayer was apparently having none of it. Uh, rather than mince too many words with Mr. Jack Reynolds, the track lair pulled his six-shooter and put six balls in rapid succession into Jack's body. The newspaper account that we have regarding the affair at the time read that the law-abiding people of the Southwest had been rid of a terror. The next body that we we know was buried on Boot Hill. We know the story, but we're not exactly sure of the name. He went by a couple of different monikers. Uh, one was Blackjack. He was also known by Tex or Texas from different sources. The story goes, there was apparently a ruckus out in front of Dog Kelly's house. Kelly was an early saloon owner, early mayor of Dodge City. There was a platform out in front of Kelly's house, and a crowd had gathered out in front of it. As the railroad traffic increased in Dodge City, so did the people coming uh in and out of town. The businesses got busier, the streets got busier, and it was not uncommon to see crowds gathered out in the streets with all of the liquor that was flowing in and out of most of the businesses in Dodge City at the time. It was not unheard of for these crowds to suddenly turn unruly. We know from a story that uh some folks on one side of the crowd started firing shots over the heads of the people in the streets from the other side. Uh a general ruckus ensued, and one of the members of the crowd was a gambler by the name of Denver. Guess where he was from. Well, Denver took advantage of the the ruckus, uh, pulled his gun, and saw this man, this blackjack, standing on the platform in front of Kelly's house, a little bit above and and within view of the crowd, kind of had a clear shot, which Denver took. He pulled his gun, he leveled it at Blackjack's head, and pulled the trigger. Now, those bystanders standing around there, they they assumed, just due to the uh general melee, that they just assumed it was an accident. And that's the story that was told for many years, although there were rumors of a beef between the two men, although no one seemed to know what had caused it. It was not until years later that word got back to Dodge City into the hand of Robert Wright that said this gambler, Denver, who long after he had passed through Dodge City through to parts elsewhere, was bragging about the murder of Blackjack. He said that he had killed Blackjack, shot him through the top of the head out of pure cussedness and just for the pleasure of watching him kick. The fall of 1872 started off uh as equally as violent as the summer had been in Dodge City. And as the businesses started growing, you had not just bars and and retail establishments, uh, Dodge got its first hotel in the form of the Essington House, owned by Carpenter J. M. Essington. Now, again, as we keep stressing, Dodge City was founded on whiskey and definitely made a name for itself in those who partook uh in the good spirits. Now, Mr. Essington seemed to be uh taking a little bit too much time in his own stores there in the hotel. And if anybody has ever been involved in the restaurant industry, one of the first things you learn is don't antagonize the cooks. Well, Mr. Essington learned that lesson a bit too late. When he got drunk, spent a little bit too much time digging into his own stores there, and began to antagonize his cook. The cook also was having none of it, pulled his gun, leveled it, and killed Mr. Essington. Essington was the next burial on Boot Hill. His business partners then uh took advantage of their now silent partners, a sudden demise, rebranded the Essington House into the Dodge House Hotel, which became a Dodge City legend on its own. December 3, 1872, there was yet another bar fight. This time in a place called Tom Sherman's Dance Hall. Now remember that name, Tom Sherman, because we'll visit him again later. There was a fight in Tom Sherman's place between a group of gamblers and a group of soldiers off duty from Fort Dodge. One of the soldiers, a man named Hennessy, who was apparently a bully of the company, was also killed in the Farakus. But a man named Charlie Morehouse, possibly one of the gamblers, Morehouse got drunk and tried to flirt with a girl who was on the arm of a young man named Billy Playford. Billy took advantage of the general ruckus and killed Charlie Morehouse. In December 3rd, 1872, Charlie Morehouse was the next burial on Boot Hill. If the summer, fall, and winter of 1872 weren't enough to cement Dodge City's wicked and wild reputation, New Year's Day of 1873 opened with a bang. And that bang came from the gun in the hands of a buffalo hunter named McGill, who killed a 16-year-old boy. We don't know the boy's name or anything more to the story. But McGill apparently continued to run free throughout Dodge well into the coming year. And remember that name because, like Tom Sherman, we'll see him again later. Later that month, on January 17th, 1873, a man by the name of Ed Hurley was crossing the street, probably going from one saloon to another. As he crossed the streets, navigating the crowd between the buildings, there was a buffalo hunter that he passed who was being a bit too loud and belligerent, hooping it up a little more than Mr. Ed Hurley could stand. Hurley shot and killed the buffalo hunter, left him laying in the street, and continued to walk into the next saloon. There he saw a man named McDermott, who was flirting with a girl by the name of Nellie Rivers. Jealous? Ed Hurley pulls his gun, starts shooting at McDermott. McDermott then returns fire, and Ed Hurley pays for his act of violence on the Buffalo hunter in the street. Ed Hurley was the next victim buried on Boot Hill. Although a possibly uh innocent bystander who had nothing to do with the beef between the two over the girl, a man by the name of Barney Cullen was also caught up in the violence, killed, and joined Ed Hurley in a grave next to him on Boot Hill. McDermott's story was not over yet either, although it was about to be. His story came to an end on February 18th, 1873, when a friend of Ed Hurley, a man by the name of Casey, took his revenge out on Mr. McDermott, this time in A.J. Peacock's saloon. He stormed into the saloon, found McDermott there sitting, and shot him dead. When Nellie Rivers, the girl in question of the fight between uh Ed Hurley and McDermott earlier the previous month, when she heard that McDermott had been killed, she stormed across the street, entered Peacock's saloon, saw the dead man there laying on the floor, and took her own revenge out and slapped his dead face silly. That same month, February of 1873, a sudden blizzard north of Dodge City caught five buffalo hunters unawares. They were found a day or two later, brought back into town, and all buried together on Boothill. February 1873 was becoming a busy month. With all of the violence in Dodge City, some of the more upstanding citizens of Dodge had begun to have enough. They got together and formed a group of vigilantes, seeing how there was no legitimate law enforcement yet in Dodge City. The vigilantes included names that we've talked about on this podcast before: men like James Hanrahan of Adobe Wall's fame, and one of those names I told you we'd mention again, Mr. Tom Sherman. There was a certain gang, apparently operating in Dodge City at the time, that had at least seven men who were sort of hoorah in the town, the leaders of which we have the names of Ed Williams and Charles Hill, often known as Charles, Texas Hill. On February 9, 1873, the vigilantes caught up with the gang, they captured the two leaders and executed them. The other five members of the gang were given a choice. Either join their friends or leave Dodge City on the first train. They chose the second option. Ed Williams and Charles Texas Hill were buried on Boot Hill. On March 11th, 1873, that buffalo hunter by the name of McGill, that same one who had killed the 16-year-old boy on New Year's, again rears his unglyhead. He'd been riding herd over Dodge City for several months already, and was next on the vigilantes list. McGill was finally caught up to by vigilantes James Hanrihan and John Scott. The newspapers reported at the time after McGill's demise, it was reported that he was known to uh entertain himself by shooting bullets through the windows of every building that he passed by, and that he would not pass this way again. The following day, on March 12th, 1873, Tom Sherman, possibly caught up in the spirit of the vigilante violence, took part in a shooting that has sort of gone down in history, although most folks don't know exactly how. On the day in question, a man named Burns was causing a bit of a disturbance in Tom Sherman's dance hall.

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Mr.

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Sherman had enough. He threw Burns out in the street and shot him through the doorway, followed him out, and as the Johnny Cash song goes, he stood over Burns there in the mud and the blood and the beard. Looked around to the street and any passers by within earshot. Mr. Sherman spoke loudly. He said, Well, I better shoot him again, hadn't I, boys? Put his gun between Burns' eyes and blew his brains out. Burns' body was left there for an entire day. On June 3rd, 1873, a burial on Boot Hill was a result of a particular murder in Dodge City that was very much to change the course of law enforcement in the town. William Taylor, who was a black man, a friend, and the private cook of the commander of Fort Dodge, Colonel Richard Dodge. Taylor was hired by a group of drunks, including some of the vigilantes, to transport them in his mule-drawn wagon from one saloon to another, sort of a uh a party bus in 1872. After several trips back and forth, Taylor had had enough. He told the men that his mules were tired and that he was going to be quitting the ride-giving service. Well, in response, one of the men shot one of Taylor's mules. Taylor, of course, was indignant. He told them so. And in defiance, they shot William Taylor. Taylor's body was then hauled by friends across the street into Herman Fringer's drugstore. However, the the vigilantes and the the rest of the drunks, they went inside, they drug William Taylor's body back out into the street, and it was a mass execution. They all continued just pumping bullets into Taylor's body until their guns were empty. Two of these men, one vigilante, John Scott, and another by the name of Bill Hicks. The following day, when Colonel Dodge got wind of what had happened to his friend William Taylor, Colonel Dodge was also, let's just say, indignant. He wired the governor of the state of Kansas for permission to use military force to go into Dodge City and arrest the perpetrators, which he could still do at the time. This was not long before the Posse Comatatus Act was passed in the United States, which prohibited uh federal military force being used on civilian populations. Well, permission was granted. Uh Colonel Dodge took a contingent in and basically declared martial law over Dodge City while he was hunting down the perpetrators. And on June 4th, 1873, uh Bill Hicks was arrested by Colonel Dodge. Scott, however, got away. He was hiding in the icebox of A.J. Peacock's saloon. The very next day, and this is why I say it, that killing very much changed the course of law enforcement in Dodge City. Was June 5th, 1873. With the violence in Dodge City, the wickedest little city in America, had gotten completely out of hand. Boothill was already filling up, and Dodge City had barely been open for a year. Ford County was uh officially established, and the first elections, uh kind of emergency elections took place, and Charlie Bassett was elected as the very first Ford County Sheriff. So now for the first time, there was some actual legal law enforcement in Dodge City and Ford County, which, for the sake of judicial purposes, Ford County essentially uh occupied the entire southwest corner of the state of Kansas. Uh so Dodge City was now the law in the entire southwest corner of the state. And Sheriff Charlie Bassett and his deputies were tasked with keeping the law, which as the stories that we've told so far show in Dodge City was not to be an easy task. Of course, now that there was law enforcement in Dodge City of the legal kind, uh, we're we're trying to get past the vigilante days. There was now city ordinances, county ordinances. Uh, one of the misconceptions about law in Dodge City is that the law was the same all over town, no matter what side of the railroad tracks you happen to be on. How they were enforced differed. The south side was generally accepted to be more wide open. The north side was more subdued, more enforced. It was illegal to carry and discharge a firearm anywhere inside the city limits of Dodge City. However, on the south side of the tracks, if you you didn't get in trouble for it, you weren't gonna get in trouble for it. The north side was a little more strictly strictly enforced. Not just in regards to firearms, but in regards to women in saloons as well. Now, as everyone knows, a woman in a saloon is a prostitute. That's how it was assumed to be. Why else would a woman be in a saloon in Dodge City? Now, if you bring a woman into a saloon, that's the way you're treating her. You're treating her like a prostitute. Well, that just wasn't done. A woman is a lady and she will be treated as such, no matter what she does for a living. That was commonly understood. On the north side of the railroad tracks, there were no licensed dance halls, which meant there were no women allowed in the saloons. A man by the name of William Ellis apparently did not get that memo. Because on July the 20th, 1873, he attempted to escort a woman into the Dodge House saloon, which was on the north side of the railroad tracks, directly north of the train depot. And the bartender, Dave Burrell, seeing Mr. Ellis trying to bring this woman in the front door of the saloon, thought, How dare you? And shot Mr. Ellis dead. Of course, Dodge City being what it was, Dave Burrell, the bartender, was then immediately killed by one of Mr. Ellis' friends, and they both wound up on Boot Hill. But a Wichita newspaper reporting on the event did say that Ellis was well liked and would be very much missed by his parents. It's doubtful that they knew he was bringing women into saloons in Dodge City. There are any number of historians of late that do try to make the case that Dodge City really wasn't as violent as the stories and the reputation would seem to indicate, although they they do seem to be largely looking at more the heyday of Dodge City, that post-1875 period, uh, where after Dodge City was incorporated, and uh there was not only county law enforcement, but city law enforcement as well for the first time. And from that point moving forward, the what do you call the Boot Hill stories, they did kind of seem to slack off a little bit. But that first year and a half, two years of Dodge City definitely cemented the reputation of Dodge uh for all time. Based on the number of killings that we actually know about that were recorded uh in not even in Dodge City newspapers, but uh newspapers across the state who were sending reporters out fascinated, telling their readers what was going on in Dodge City. That reputation of that first two years made Dodge City what it what it was, and Dodge never really recovered from that. Boot Hill as the kind of the geographical focal point for so much of that violence uh also became the kind of a byword for the the wickedness and and evil and den of iniquity that Dodge City was. Dodge City was so identified with what Boot Hill represented that it wasn't long before Dodge finally got sick of that reputation and wanted to close down that focal point. Uh Boot Hill. Boot Hill was never a cemetery. Boot Hill was a dumping ground. The cemetery was at Fort Dodge. Anybody who actually mattered, anybody with uh with means, with people who knew him, anybody anybody cared about was buried out at Fort Dodge. That was the legitimate cemetery. The city being kind of an extension of the what was needed to supply and assist the fort, it was a natural extension to continue to use that cemetery as a base. Boot Hill was just as far outside of town as they felt like dragging a dead carcass that nobody knew and nobody gave a damn about. And I said, by 1879, uh even by the summer and fall of 1878, Dodge City had gotten beyond their willingness to deal with that reputation any further. And Boot Hill was closed.