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Early lifeHis father, James G. Hardin, was a Methodist preacher and circuit rider. His mother, Elizabeth, was described by him as being "a blonde, highly cultured, and charity predominated in her disposition." Hardin's father traveled over most of central Texas on his preaching circuit until 1869. He eventually settled in Sumpter, Texas, in Trinity County. Here he taught school and established an institution that John Wesley and his brother Joe G. Hardin attended. It was and still is often incorrectly assumed that John Wesley Hardin was an uneducated vagabond cowboy who would fire on anyone he pleased. However, a review of several more reliable sources gives a more robust view of his life.[citation needed]
Life on the runAs a fugitive, Hardin traveled throughout Texas evading the law. He was arrested several times, but always managed to escape. After the last of his escapes, he found refuge among relatives, the Clements family. They informed him that by getting into the growing cattle market he could make money in Kansas. This would allow him to get out of Texas long enough for things to cool down. So Hardin took up work with the Clements, gathering cattle for Jake Johnson and Columbus Carol. He would then begin his trip to Kansas. On his way, Hardin fought Mexican vaqueros, Indians, and cattle rustlers. At the end of his trip in Kansas came one of the most famous confrontations between Hardin and the law. The "Bull's Head Tavern", in Abilene, Kansas, was established by gambler/gunman Ben Thompson with businessman and gambler Phil Coe. These two gamblers painted a rather vulgar picture of a bull as an advertisement for their establishment. Then the "prudish", as described by Dee Brown, citizens of the town complained to Abilene's Marshal "Wild Bill" Hickok. When Thompson and Coe refused to take down the bull, Hickok altered it himself. Infuriated, Thompson exclamed to Hardin, "He's a damn Yankee. Picks on Rebels, especially Texans, to kill." Hardin simply replied, "If Wild Bill needs killin', why don't you kill him yourself?". Later that night, Hardin was confronted by Hickok, who told Hardin to hand over his guns, which Hardin did. Hickok did not arrest Hardin, for reasons unknown, and it was later claimed that Hickok had no knowledge that Hardin was wanted. Hickok did advise him to avoid problems while in Abilene. Phil Coe was later killed by Hickok during a street brawl, during which Hickok also accidentally killed his own deputy. Thompson did not confront Hickok over the Coe shooting, allegedly believing that Hickok had been justified in the event.
Within a year, Hardin did kill. Like Bill Longley, he was spurred by the hatred that seethed between newly freed blacks and defeated Southern whites. Visiting relatives near Moscow, Texas, in 1868, he was egged into a wrestling match with an ex-slave named Mage. In the rough-and-tumble bout, Mage's nose was bloodied. By Hardin's version, the black man then declared that "no white boy could draw his blood and live." The next day, Mage caught up with him as he was riding home and dared him to fight again. Hardin was armed. When Mage seized the bridle of his horse, he later recounted, "I shot him loose. He kept coming back and every time we would start, I would shoot him again and again until I shot him down." Hardin's father, "distracted" by the killing, urged his son to go into hiding. The elder Hardin believed, in the son's words, that to be tried "at the time for killing a Negro meant certain death at the hands of a court backed by Northern bayonets." The boy fled, and for the next 10 years he stayed on the run, eluding pursuers who sought to bring him for justice for one crime or another. But he seldom wandered far from his native ground. Central Texas abounded with John Wesley's kin-folk. All of them- and most of their neighbors-- were happy to shelter any fugitive from carpetbagger justice. At one point, while he was in hiding, he received word from his other brother Joseph that Union soldiers were looking for him. Knowing the byways through the back country, John Wesley bushwhacked three of the pursuing Yankees-- two white and a black man-- at a creek crossing. "Parties in the neighborhood took the soldiers' horses and as we burned all their effects everything was kept quiet," he noted in the remarkable autobiography that he composed in the last year of his life. "Thus by the fall of 1868 I had killed four men." He was only 15 years old. By ironic chance, Hardin was arrested in 1870 for a murder in Waco that he had not committed. Unable to persuade a judge by his innocence, he was held temporarily in a log jail in the town of Marshall, awaiting transfer to Waco. In the privacy of this crude lockup, he bought two useful items from a fellow prisoner: an overcoat against the winter cold-- and a Colt .45. Thus he was ready when a Captain Stokes of the state police and a guard named Jim Smolly came to convey him to Waco for trial. Hardin was wearing the overcoat when they arrived. Under it, tied to his shoulder with twine, was the Colt. One night while the three men were camping en route, Stokes went to rustle up some fodder for the horses, and Hardin was left alone with Smolly, a loud, over-bearing man. Smolly began to revile his 17-year-old charge. Hardin who had a canny sense of the uses to which callow youth could be put, hurst into tears and huddled against his pony's flank while Smolly watched in amusement. Behind the pony, Hardin slipped his hand into his coat and untied the string that held his gun. He shot Smolly dead and ran. A few days later, several of Hardin's relatives were gathering, at Gonzales in southern Texas for a drive up the Chisholm Trail to Abilene, Kansas. They persuaded a rancher to hire John Wesley as a trail boss for his herd. Toward the end of the drive, a Mexican herd crowed in behind Hardin's and there was some trouble keeping apart. Hardin got into a verbal battle with the Mexican in charge of the other herd. Both men were on horseback. The Mexican fired, putting a while through John Wesley's hat. Swift to retaliate, Hardin found that his own weapon, a worn-out cap-and-ball pistol with a loose cylinder, would not fire; he dismounted, managed to discharge the gun by steadying the cylinder with one hand and pulling the trigger with the other, and hit the Mexican in the thigh. A truce was declared, but John Wesley was not content with merely winging his opponent. He borrowed a pistol from a friend, went after the Mexican again, and this time shot him through the heard. A general fire fight between the rival camps ensued. The Mexican's suffered all the casualties. Six vaqueros died in the exchanges-- five of them felled by the six-shooter in John Wesley Hardin's hand. In Abilene, Hardin met Wild Bill Hickok, at the time the cattle town's reigning peace officer. Hickok took an indulgently paternal attitude toward the young killer. He drank with Hardin, whored with him and gave him advice, and at one point, when a gang of Hardin's Texas pals and relatives got into trouble, disarmed them but left Hardin his weapon, presumably to allow him to either protect his friends or to keep them in line. For his part, Hardin was fascinated by Wild Bill and glowed at being seen on intimate terms with so celebrated gunfighter. But all the while, down deep, he realized that Wild Bill would kill him without qualm if circumstance suggested the need-- perhaps not out of ill will, but certainly for self-protection. The climax for association came with one of Hardin's most callous crimes, so ignoble that even he showed some faith sign of shame and attempted to pass off as the justifiable shooting of a man who was trying to steal his pants. Actually, he had less excuse than that. At the American House Hotel, where Hardin had put up for his Abilene he began firing bullets through a bedroom wall simply to stop the snoring of a stranger in the next room. The first bullet merely woke the man; the second killed him. In the silence Hardin realized that he was about to plunge into deep trouble with Wild Bill Hickok. Still in his undershirt, he exited through a window and ran onto the roof of the hotel portico-- just in time to see Hickok arriving with four policemen, alerted by other guests. "I believe," Hardin said later, "that if Wild Bill found me in a defenseless condition, he would take no explanation, but would kill me to add to his reputation." Not waiting to determine Hickok's disposition in the matter, Hardin leaped from the roof into the street and hid in a haystack for the rest of the night. Towards dawn he stole a horse and made his way back to the cow camp outside town. The next day he left for Texas, never to return to Abilene. Years later Hardin made a casual reference to the episode. "The tell lots of lies about me," he complained. "They say I killed six or seven men for snoring. Well, it ain't true, I only killed one man for snoring."
Sutton-Taylor FeudAbout this time Hardin turned up in southeastern Texas, in the area around Gonzales County, reuniting with his Clements cousins, who were allied with the local Taylor family, who had been feuding with the rival Sutton family for several years. Already notorious, Hardin was wounded by a shotgun blast in a Trinity City gambling dispute on August 7, 1872. After recovering, he resumed his depredations. Hardin's main claim to fame in the Sutton-Taylor feud was the killing of Jack Helm, a former captain in the Texas State Police who was the sheriff of DeWitt County, Texas. For years, Helm had been allied with the Suttons and participated in killings with them. On the afternoon of May 17, 1873, Jack Helm was at a blacksmith's shop in the hamlet of Albuquerque, Texas when Hardin and Jim Taylor stumbled into him. Helm advanced on the two men with a knife, only to be cut down by a Hardin-administered shotgun blast. As Helm writhed on the ground, Taylor marched over with his pistol drawn and emptied it into his head (with each bullet he fired, Taylor called out the name of a relative who had met death at the hands of Helm and the Suttons.) The next night, Hardin and other Taylor supporters surrounded the ranch house of Sutton ally Joe Tomlinson. A shouted truce was enacted and both sides signed a peace treaty in Clinton, Texas. Within the year, war once again broke out between the two sides, culminating when Jim Taylor gunned down Billy Sutton as he waited on a steamboat platform in Indianola, Texas in April 1874 (ironically, Sutton was set to leave the area forever at the time of his killing). On May 26, 1874, Hardin, Jim Taylor, and others were cornered in Comanche, Texas by Brown County Texas Deputy sheriff Charles Webb. In the ensuing gunfight, Webb was shot dead by Hardin. A couple weeks later, a lynch mob killed several of Hardin's friends, including his brother Joe. Shortly after this he and Jim Taylor parted ways for the final time. Capture, later life, and deathEventually, Hardin was captured but entered prison with a pre-law degree he had earned along with his brother. He finished his law degree while incarcerated. After serving 17 years in prison Hardin was released, and he began practicing law as an attorney in El Paso, Texas. Despite his law practice, Hardin was frequently drunk and violent, often demanding his money back at gunpoint if he lost at cards. Rumor had it that he was haunted by past atrocities. In 1895 he began work on his autobiography. On August 19,1895, El Paso lawman John Selman arrested Hardin's prostitute girlfriend. Hardin confronted Selman, and the two men had a verbal dispute. Hardin then went to the Acme Saloon, where he began playing dice. Selman walked in shortly thereafter and shot Hardin three times from behind, killing him. Selman was arrested for the murder, stood trial, but a hung jury resulted in his being released on bond. Selman was also killed, in a shootout several months later, by US Marshal George Scarborough who had been close friends with another man Selman had killed. Scarborough was mortally wounded in a gunfight with two robbers and died on April 5, 1900, exactly four years after he shot John Selman. Hardin in popular culture
Hardin and the lawPrior to his killing of Deputy Sheriff (and ex-Texas Ranger) Charles Webb in May 26, 1874 and his arrest in July 23, 1877, Hardin had at least three confirmed clashes with the law:
Hardin and unconfirmed claimsLike his contemporary fellow outlaw Bill Longley, in several cases where Hardin claimed to have been involved in killings, the reports either cannot be confirmed or prove to be nonexistent. For example:
Miscellaneous
References
"The Old West- The Gunfighters." by TIME-LIFE BOOKS with text by Paul Trachtman
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