Where Did The Tradition of Big Belt Buckles Come From?

By Jennifer Uhlarik

 

If you’re a fan of country music, cowboys, or any sort of western culture, you’re probably very familiar with the large and glitzy belt buckles worn by those in that world. But have you ever wondered how the ornate buckle became synonymous with cowboys and western life? I did, so I thought I’d share what I found with you.

Notice the waist cinch and suspenders.

Early on in American history, pants weren’t made with belt loops. In fact, these utilitarian strips of fabric didn’t make an appearance on pants until 1922, when Levi Strauss began including the feature on his denim jeans. Prior to that, many trousers came equipped with a small cinch across the back that could be tightened to help the waist fit better—or people used suspenders to hold up their pants.

 

An unknown Union soldier with prominent belt buckle.

But in 1861, the Civil War broke out, and belts with a prominent brass buckle were part of the uniforms worn by both sides. The belts often held an ammunition box, a sword’s scabbard, pistol holster, or other necessary items. The buckles were usually emblazoned with “CSA” for Confederate States of America or “US” for the Federal soldiers—or some had eagles with their wings spread wide. At the war’s end, many men continued to wear parts of their uniforms, since supplies were scarce—so the belts became a bit more common.

Robert E. Lee with a belt and buckle.

 

Belts and their buckles became more mainstream as the American west opened up—and people needed a reliable way to carry a sidearm. Many of the Texas Rangers converted their uniform belts into gun belts, and the belts, buckles, and holsters began to transition to a more ornate style. No longer were the belts just simple straps of leather with a brass buckle. In this era, leather workers began tooling the leather with intricate patterns, both on the belt and the holster, and silversmiths developed more ornate three-piece buckles. Loops were sewn into the belt to carry extra bullets, and a whole new style developed.

William F. "Buffalo Bill" Cody, who led one of the best-known Wild West Shows.
Notice his large belt buckle.

 

In the 1870s, the Wild West show became prominent. Actors and notable figures of the era donned western-styled costumes and regalia to entertain and wow audiences with feats of horsemanship, shooting, and reenactments of western events. In turn, this gave way to moving pictures. The first western movies—a series of silent reels—was put out by Thomas Edison’s studio in 1894, and the popularity grew from there. Many of the early western movies gave moviegoers quick snapshots of what life on the frontier was like. As actors portrayed life out west on stage and screen, the ornate gun belts and large buckles that held them in place became a common sight across America. The belt and its buckle was becoming mainstream.

John Wayne in a 1930s-era movie,
sporting a belt and gun belt.

 

Then, enter the rodeo. As I wrote about in an earlier post, the rodeo has a long history dating back to early ranch life. But as the rodeo became a professional group of sports with a union and set rules, along with that came trophies—in the form of ornate belt buckles for the top-placing competitors. The higher one placed in a given event, the larger the buckle one could win.

 

So there you have it—the history of the western belt buckle. From a non-existent object to a utilitarian bit of metal, all the way to a wearable trophy, this fashion statement has embedded itself into America’s history and culture.

It's Your Turn: Do you like the big, glitzy western belt buckles as a fashion statement? Why or why not?

Jennifer Uhlarik discovered western novels at twelve when she swiped the only “horse” book from her brother’s bookshelf. Across the next decade, she devoured westerns and fell in love with the genre. While attaining a B.A. in writing from the University of Tampa, she began penning her own story of the Old West. She has finaled in and won numerous writing competitions and appeared on various best-seller lists. Besides writing, she’s been a business owner, a schoolteacher, a marketing director, a historical researcher, a publisher, and a full-time homemaker. She lives near Tampa, Florida, with her husband and fur children.

 

 

Love and Order: A Three-Part Old West Romantic Mystery

Wanted: 

Family, Love, and Justice

One Old West Mystery Solved Throughout Three Short Romantic Stories

Separated as children when they were adopted out to different families from an orphan train, the Braddock siblings have each grown up and taken on various jobs within law enforcement and criminal justice.

 

Youngest child, Callie, has pushed past her insecurities to pursue a career as a Pinkerton agent. Middle child, Andi, has spent years studying law under her adoptive father’s tutelage. And the eldest and only son, Rion, is a rough-and-tumble bounty hunter. 

 

When the hunt for a serial killer with a long history of murders reunites the brother and sisters in Cambria Springs, Colorado, they find themselves not only in a fight for justice, but also a fight to keep their newly reunited family intact. How will they navigate these challenges when further complicated by unexpected romances?

 

 

 

 

 

Lizzie Borden's Forty Whacks: Fact or Fiction Edition

By Jennifer Uhlarik

 

I’m sure most of us have heard of Lizzie Borden, the woman best known for having been accused of and tried for the Massachusetts axe murders of her parents in the 1890s. Perhaps you know of her for no other reason than the oft-repeated playground rhyme that kids skipped rope to. Or maybe you’ve read of her yourself…there have been several great blog posts done on her here at Heroes, Heroines, and History across the years, as well as many other places. Or…<shiver> maybe you’re one of the brave souls who so loves this macabre historical murder that you’ve stayed in the supposedly haunted Borden house turned into a Bed & Breakfast.

Lizzie Borden

For those who don’t know of Lizzie Borden, here are the basic facts: On August 4, 1892, Andrew and Abby Borden were discovered in their home, deceased, each apparently killed with a hatchet or an axe. Living in the house with them at the time of their deaths were 32-year-old daughter Lizzie, her older sister Emma (age 41), and Bridget Sullivan, the 25-year-old live-in maid who’d immigrated to America from Ireland. Also having stayed in the Borden’s home the night prior was one of Lizzie’s maternal relatives, John Morse.

The Borden House,
Fall River, Massachusetts

Present at breakfast on the morning of the murder were Abby and Andrew, Mr. Morse, and Miss Sullivan. According to my research, neither Lizzie nor Emma ate with the family that fateful morning. Following breakfast, Mr. Morse and Andrew talked about some family business until about 8:30 a.m., then Morse departed to attend to some other errands. Somewhere between 9 a.m. and 10:30 a.m., Abby went about her usual house chores, and somewhere after 9 a.m., Andrew took his usual morning walk. It is thought that during his walk, Abby was murdered as she made up the guest room bed. Upon returning from his walk around 10:30 a.m., Andrew struggled to open the door, so he knocked. Miss Sullivan testified during the trial that she found the door jammed, and that as she opened it, she heard Lizzie laughing from the top of the stairs, though Lizzy denied that fact. According to the forensic investigation, Abby had already been murdered in the guest room by this time, though she’d not been discovered. Andrew went to the sitting room to nap on the couch, and as he slept, was also killed. As the history goes, moments after 11 a.m., Lizzie called out to Miss Sullivan in her third-floor bedroom to come quickly, someone had killed her father, and when Miss Sullivan arrived in the room, Andrew’s blood was still flowing, indicating the blows had been delivered very recently.

Abby Borden's body, 
lying dead in the guest room

Andrew Borden's body on the 
sitting room couch

 

Those are the basic facts of the case, but let’s look more deeply—at both the childhood rhyme and other details of the case—and see what’s fact and what is fiction. 

 

Fact or Fiction: The Childhood Rhyme

 

As the rhyme goes…

“Lizzie Borden took an axe,

and gave her mother forty whacks;

when she saw what she had done,

she gave her father forty-one.”

 

Let’s take it line by line.

 

“Lizzie Borden took an axe…”

 

Uncertain. During her trial, Lizzie was acquitted of Andrew and Abby Borden’s murders, so no one knows who the real culprit was. Perhaps it was Lizzie and the jury got it wrong—or maybe the real culprit got away with murder. Twice.

 

“And gave her mother forty whacks…”

 

Fiction: This is actually false on two fronts. Abby Borden was Lizzie’s step-mother. Her mother had passed away some time before this. Also, Abby was struck about seventeen or eighteen times, not forty.

 

“When she saw what she had done,

she gave her father forty-one.”

 

Fiction: While he was Lizzie’s father, and not a step-parent as above, he received about ten or eleven blows with the murder weapon, not the forty-one chanted in the rhyme.

 

~~~~~

Fact or Fiction: The police investigated the Borden murders for possible poisonings.

 

Fact. Several days before their deaths, everyone in the household had fallen ill, and Abby said she thought someone had poisoned them because her husband was disliked among the neighbors and townsfolk. During the autopsies, both Abby and Andrew’s stomachs were removed and thoroughly checked for poison. None was found. The more likely cause of the bout of illness days before their murder was mutton that had been left out too long and allowed to spoil.

~~~~~

Fact or Fiction: Lizzie destroyed a dress in the first days after her parents’ murders.

 

Fact. More than one witness saw Lizzie tearing or cutting up one of her dresses and tossing the pieces in the stove to be burned up, though she was not stopped from doing so. When asked why she was destroying the dress, she said it was old and had paint stains on it.

~~~~~

 

Fact or Fiction: Lizzie was denied her right to an attorney.

 

Part Fact/Part Fiction. If you’ve watched any police drama on TV or the big screen, you have heard the “Miranda Rights” quoted—the right to remain silent, to have an attorney, and if you can’t afford one, to have one appointed for you. However, those rights were not officially created until 1966, decades after Lizzie Borden’s case. So she was never promised an attorney or her choosing or the court’s.

 

Despite that fact, Lizzie found herself facing an inquest, and she did ask that a family attorney be present. It was wise of her to request this, since she’d been consistently given morphine for her nerves after the murders. And yes…fact…she was denied the requested attorney for the inquest due to a Massachusetts rule that said inquests were to remain private. Poor Lizzie was erratic, likely from the morphine, and changed her story multiple times. She sometimes refused to answer questions, even if those questions might have helped her case. Thankfully for her, her testimony from the inquest was not allowed in the actual trial (where she was allowed to have an attorney—and in fact, had three).

~~~~~

 

Fact or Fiction: An eerily similar axe murder happened in the same town as the Borden Murders days before Lizzie’s trial began.

 

Fact. Lizzie’s trial was days away from beginning when Bertha Manchester was found in her home, also hacked with an axe or hatchet, in very similar style to Andrew and Abby Borden. A Portuguese immigrant was later found guilty of the Manchester murder, though apparently, they couldn’t not place the man in Fall River, Massachusetts, during the time of the Borden murders. Despite that fact, it certainly helped sway the jury that another, uncannily similar murder was just committed—and not by Lizzie.

 

This is by no means an exhaustive list of all the facts of the case. There are many more details that must be considered to come to any sort of informed conclusion on who really killed Mr. and Mrs. Borden. What I have presented here are some of the oft-misquoted, interesting, or otherwise bizarre details that accompany this case.

 

It’s Your Turn: Had you heard of Lizzie Borden? Do you suspect she is the real culprit or do you think someone else committed these heinous crimes? If so, who—and why do you believe that?

 

Jennifer Uhlarik discovered western novels at twelve when she swiped the only “horse” book from her brother’s bookshelf. Across the next decade, she devoured westerns and fell in love with the genre. While attaining a B.A. in writing from the University of Tampa, she began penning her own story of the Old West. She has finaled in and won numerous writing competitions and appeared on various best-seller lists. Besides writing, she’s been a business owner, a schoolteacher, a marketing director, a historical researcher, a publisher, and a full-time homemaker. She lives near Tampa, Florida, with her husband and fur children.

 

 

Love and Order: A Three-Part Old West Romantic Mystery

 

Wanted: 

Family, Love, and Justice

One Old West Mystery Solved Throughout Three Short Romantic Stories

Separated as children when they were adopted out to different families from an orphan train, the Braddock siblings have each grown up and taken on various jobs within law enforcement and criminal justice.

 

Youngest child, Callie, has pushed past her insecurities to pursue a career as a Pinkerton agent. Middle child, Andi, has spent years studying law under her adoptive father’s tutelage. And the eldest and only son, Rion, is a rough-and-tumble bounty hunter. 

 

When the hunt for a serial killer with a long history of murders reunites the brother and sisters in Cambria Springs, Colorado, they find themselves not only in a fight for justice, but also a fight to keep their newly reunited family intact. How will they navigate these challenges when further complicated by unexpected romances?

 

The First Borden Murders

 

By Jennifer Uhlarik

 

If you’ve heard of Lizzie Borden—raise your hand!

Most of us probably have—at least by the oft-quoted schoolyard rhyme about the woman who delivered forty whacks of an ax to her mother, then another forty-one to her father. However, Lizzie was not the first Borden whose name was associated with murder. Four and a half decades before the murders of Andrew and Abby Borden (father and step-mother of Lizzie), the first Borden murders occurred.

Lizzie Borden

 

Lawdwick Borden’s First Marriage

 

On March 14, 1812, Lawdwick Borden entered the world—the brother of the man who would become Lizzie Borden’s grandfather. From a well-to-do family, he eventually opened a planning business to compliment his brother, Cook’s, lumber business.

 

At twenty-one years old, Lawdwick married the first of his four wives. His union with Maria Briggs started happily enough, though that happiness wouldn’t last. Within their brief five years together, they brought two children into the world—and lost both in less than a year from each of their births. And in their fifth year of marriage, Maria died also. So by age 26, Lawdwick had already suffered the loss of a spouse and two children—all to illnesses.

 

But that wasn’t where his losses ended. Indeed, things were about to get quite a bit worse.

 

The Horrific Second Marriage

 

Six years after Maria died, on March 16, 1843, Lawdwick married Eliza Darling—his second wife. Within a year and a half, they welcomed their first child, Maria, to the family. Two years later, along came their second daughter, Eliza, and two years after that, their son Holder completed their family. This should have been a joyous time for the growing family, but Lawdwick’s wife suffered with “melancholy” after her children’s births, likely a case of what we call postpartum depression today.

 

If you’re not aware, many women suffer some small form of the “baby blues” after giving birth. This is usually a brief period (two weeks or less) of mood swings, trouble eating, trouble sleeping, mild anxiety, crying, and other such symptoms. But sometimes the blues don’t abate within a couple of weeks. Today, we know this as postpartum depression, a condition marked by depression and severe mood swings, trouble bonding with the new baby, the mother’s withdrawal from family and friends, excessive crying, extreme irritability, anger, and even hopelessness. In truly severe cases, the mother can fantasize about harming herself or her baby—or even make such attempts.

 

News article announcing Eliza's murder of her children
and her own suicide.

The articles I have read on Eliza Darling Borden didn’t detail her symptoms, but I can imagine she must have been plagued by all of these and more to do what she ultimately did. Around the time that Holder was six months old and little Eliza was two, their mother was in the grip of a madness she couldn’t break free of. On a given morning, she waited for their young maid to leave the house on an outside chore. At that time, she took little Eliza and Holder to the cellar of the house at #96 Second Street in Fall River, Massachusetts, and drown her two youngest children in the cellar’s cistern. I have found no details as to why Maria was not also drowned that day, but the oldest daughter survived.

 

After drowning her children, Eliza took one of her husband’s straight razors and did herself in by cutting her own throat. Some accounts have her taking her life in the same cellar where her children died, while others say she walked back upstairs before ending her life.

Eliza Borden's grave marker.

 

Later Marriages

 

I have to give Lawdwick Borden credit. After losing two wives and four children—two by murder—I am not sure I would have had the strength to marry again. But Lawdwick did. His third wife was yet another woman named Eliza! (Did I mention I couldn’t have married again? I really  don’t think I could’ve married another by the same name)! The third wife—and second Eliza—died also, leaving poor Lawdwick to marry his final wife, Ruhama. 

 

Lawdwick and Ruhama shared a number of years together before his death on October 6, 1874. She survived him by about five years, ultimately succumbing to cancer in 1879.

 

The Surviving Child

 

You might be wondering what happened to the surviving child of Lawdwick and Eliza Darling Borden. Maria went on to lead a full life, marrying twice herself. Her first marriage lasted only a handful of years and ended in divorce. However, her second marriage to a man named John Chace, produced two children, one of which survived into adulthood. The other died early from illness. Maria lived out her days in Fall River.

 

The House Next Door

 

Interestingly, Maria was a just an infant when her father took a portion of the land where his house was situated and build a second home. The home’s address was #92 Second Street, Fall River, Massachusetts. In the early days after it was built, that house was occupied by Charles and Hannah Trafton, who welcomed Charles Jr. to their family. But only shortly after Charles Jr’s birth, Hannah succumbed to tuberculosis and the baby died of an unknown illness. Charles Sr. married again and lived in that house next to Lawdwick’s family until 1872—when the house was sold to Andrew Borden, father of Lizzie and Emma Borden. 

 

Check back next month for more about the murders of Andrew and Abby Borden in that very house.

 

It’s Your Turn: Were you aware that the murders of Lizzie Borden’s parents were not the first suspicious deaths in the Borden family tree? In your opinion, what is the saddest part of the original Borden murders?

 

Jennifer Uhlarik discovered western novels at twelve when she swiped the only “horse” book from her brother’s bookshelf. Across the next decade, she devoured westerns and fell in love with the genre. While attaining a B.A. in writing from the University of Tampa, she began penning her own story of the Old West. She has finaled in and won numerous writing competitions and appeared on various best-seller lists. Besides writing, she’s been a business owner, a schoolteacher, a marketing director, a historical researcher, a publisher, and a full-time homemaker. She lives near Tampa, Florida, with her husband and fur children.

 

 

Love and Order: A Three-Part Old West Romantic Mystery

Available now from your favorite bookseller

 

Wanted: 

Family, Love, and Justice

One Old West Mystery Solved Throughout Three Short Romantic Stories

Separated as children when they were adopted out to different families from an orphan train, the Braddock siblings have each grown up and taken on various jobs within law enforcement and criminal justice.

 

Youngest child, Callie, has pushed past her insecurities to pursue a career as a Pinkerton agent. Middle child, Andi, has spent years studying law under her adoptive father’s tutelage. And the eldest and only son, Rion, is a rough-and-tumble bounty hunter. 

 

When the hunt for a serial killer with a long history of murders reunites the brother and sisters in Cambria Springs, Colorado, they find themselves not only in a fight for justice, but also a fight to keep their newly reunited family intact. How will they navigate these challenges when further complicated by unexpected romances?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Incarcerating Outlaws in the Old West

By Jennifer Uhlarik

 

Hello, readers! For the past several months, I’ve been sharing some of the fun facts I had the pleasure of researching for my recent release, Love and Order: A Three-Part Old West Romantic Mystery. This month, I am sharing some interesting tidbits about the jails and prisons of the Old West—and how some prisoners escaped these places.

 

This isn’t my first time writing about jails—either on this blog or in one of my stories. So to recap a previous post that I wrote several years back, here’s a bit about the jails in the Old West. 

 

What were Old West jails really like?

 

Many Hollywood movies and television shows depict a rather secure, up-to-date building with multiple cells and modern-looking bars on the windows and doors—but the reality was usually much cruder. Sometimes, a jail was nothing more than a large tree, boulder, or telegraph pole with a prisoner tied or chained to it. Other times, the jail was a deep pit dug into the ground with wood planks covering the hole, and a lawman standing guard.

The Wickenburg "Jail"

 

When there was a more traditional jail facility, these varied greatly. They would’ve been constructed of whatever material was most readily available in the area, be it milled wood planks, logs, stones, brick, or adobe. Many were separate single-room buildings—with a door and little else. No indoor plumbing. No modern conveniences. A bucket for a toilet—if that. (Can you imagine the stench?) Often, these facilities were overcrowded, and illness and disease spread easily in such confines.

 

In some rare cases, a locality would put more money and effort into making their jail facilities liveable—building a “modern” jail with multiple cells, barred windows and doors for ventilation, a room for the guards to sleep in, a kitchen to prepare meals, and a space for the inmates to stretch their legs or exercise. 

 

What happened once an outlaw was tried and convicted of a years-long sentence—where did he go then?

 

It all depended on the state or territory. If there was a prison available, the inmate was transported to that facility. But if one hadn’t been built in that territory or state yet, the inmate continued his stay in the local jail for the length of his sentence. (Thus, the overcrowding). As the old saying goes, idle hands are the devil’s playground, so if left to sit very long with nothing to do, rebellions or riots sometimes ensued. To keep these down, the prisoners might be flogged or put in a separate location for solitary confinement. Or, often they were relegated to manual labor in chain gangs.

 

Once such example was in the Arizona Territory. As the population of Arizona grew, it was decided that they would build a territorial prison and Yuma was chosen as the appropriate site. Seven men with multi-year sentences were pulled from their respective local jails and sent to the blazing-hot desert and forced to build the dreaded Yuma Territorial Prison, then incarcerated in the very facility they’d built themselves. (Though from what I’ve read about that facility, it had a library, a school program where inmates learned the Three R’s, and more “amenities” that made it rather more luxurious than many other prisons).

Yuma Territorial Prison

 

How secure were the jails in the Old West?

 

Oftentimes, not very secure at all! In fact, one article I read in my research of jails described them as “leaky”—meaning they were easy to escape from. You’ve got stories of notorious escapes like Butch Cassidy, who used a smuggled tool to pick the lock on his cell door and escape his jail. In less well-known instances, I read about an outlaw gang coming to the jail and lifting the corner of the building off its foundation just far enough that their compatriot could squirm out under the wall. In cases of jails made from adobe, the walls could be dug through fairly easily, so if left unsupervised for long enough (which was often the case—as many towns didn’t have the inmates guarded overnight), the prisoners had ample time to dig out and escape. In another case, I read of a heavy rainstorm kicking up a flash flood, which washed out the corner of a jailhouse, allowing the inmate to slip into the water and be “washed away” by the current. Then, of course, there’s the “Great Escape” from Yuma (since I have already mentioned that territorial prison). In that instance, three inmates managed to tunnel out from the prison and escape across hundreds of miles of brutal desert terrain. So even the larger prisons weren’t immune to escapes.

 

It’s Your Turn: Tell me what you find most interesting about the incarceration practices of the Old West.

 

Jennifer Uhlarik discovered western novels at twelve when she swiped the only “horse” book from her brother’s bookshelf. Across the next decade, she devoured westerns and fell in love with the genre. While attaining a B.A. in writing from the University of Tampa, she began penning her own story of the Old West. She has finaled in and won numerous writing competitions and appeared on various best-seller lists. Besides writing, she’s been a business owner, a schoolteacher, a marketing director, a historical researcher, a publisher, and a full-time homemaker. She lives near Tampa, Florida, with her husband and fur children.

 

Available now from your favorite bookseller:

Love and Order: A Three-Part Old West Romantic Mystery 

Wanted: Family, Love, and Justice

One Old West Mystery Solved Throughout Three Short Romantic Stories

Separated as children when they were adopted out to different families from an orphan train, the Braddock siblings have each grown up and taken on various jobs within law enforcement and criminal justice.

 

Youngest child, Callie, has pushed past her insecurities to pursue a career as a Pinkerton agent. Middle child, Andi, has spent years studying law under her adoptive father’s tutelage. And the eldest and only son, Rion, is a rough-and-tumble bounty hunter. 

 

When the hunt for a serial killer with a long history of murders reunites the brother and sisters in Cambria Springs, Colorado, they find themselves not only in a fight for justice, but also a fight to keep their newly reunited family intact. How will they navigate these challenges when further complicated by unexpected romances? 

Courts of the Old West

By Jennifer Uhlarik 

If you’re anything like me, watching western movies as a kid led to the belief that the western territories and states were a completely lawless land. Sure, I knew there were lawmen—sheriffs, marshals, and the like—and even a plethora of bounty hunters. Western movies, shows, and books were filled with those. But so many westerns, whether on the big or small screen, or in print, conveyed the idea that things were dealt with by vigilante justice rather than in an actual court of law. People took matters in their own hands, rather than seeking out a lawyer, a judge, or a court, right? Turns out, nothing was further from the truth.

 

In researching for my newest release, Love and Order: A Three-Part Old West Romantic Mystery, I had the pleasure of ferreting out whether there was the court system in Colorado Territory in the 1800s and how such an animal might have operated in that time and place. 

Judge Roy Bean, a Justice of the Peace, dubbed himself the "Only law west of the Pecos."

So, the court system in the western territories was typically set up with a Territorial Supreme Court, comprised of three justices who were each appointed by the President of the United States. These justices were not only the highest judges in the territory—but often, they were the only judges. (Yes, there might have been Justices of the Peace who were in charge of hearing small local matters, but these JP’s were not typically part of the Territorial Court system that would try cases dealing with the Territorial laws. An example would be Judge Roy Bean).

 

Each territory was segmented into three parts, and each Supreme Court Justice became the traveling judge who oversaw cases in one of those territorial districts. Each judge had a U.S. Marshal working closely with him to schedule trials, who acted as bailiff during trials, and helped with other court matters. If a lawman or prosecutor wished to bring a case to trial, he would contact the Marshal, get the case on the judge’s docket, and then would have to wait until the judge and his traveling court continent made it through the circuit to the nearest town to hear that case.

 

In most places, there wasn’t a dedicated courthouse in which to host a trial. So where did the proceedings happen? Anywhere they could find a place. Court cases might have been held in an open field if the weather permitted, in a schoolhouse, a church, a meeting hall, or a saloon. And the cases were often seen as a great source of entertainment, so people would often take off work to witness the spectacle. And a spectacle it often was! 

An Old West Saloon

Though the judges had garnered the attention of the President to receive the appointment as territorial justice, many of them saw this as a punishment. They viewed it not as an honor, but as being banished to the uncivilized territories. Thus, many of them took a very lackadaisical attitude toward their jobs. Judges were sometimes known to come into court drunk (or to become so as the day went on—especially when the venue was a saloon). They also often lent only half an ear to the proceedings while they trimmed their nails or took care of other personal grooming tasks. And often, lots of shenanigans went on because the judge would allow the audience too much power. For instance, in one case I read about, held in a local saloon, many of the townsfolk who were in attendance would holler out, asking for a recess, so that they could get a refill on their alcoholic beverages—and the judge permitted it. I’m sure you can imagine the wild and wooly spectacle such a trial might have been.

 

Certainly, some of the judges would’ve taken their jobs seriously, but many didn’t treat it with the respect it deserved. So if the outcome of a trial was in question, the defendants and their attorneys could always ask for an appeal to the Supreme Court. But wait…! Keep in mind that the judge who just heard the case was one of the three Justices of the Territorial Supreme Court, and an appeal required two of the three Justices to agree to hear the case. If the original judge ruled no (which they often did), and he could convince a second Justice to deny the request, then the appeal would go nowhere. The initial judgment stood.

 

I mentioned earlier about the court contingent that the judges traveled with. Interestingly, each territorial judge had a whole group of people they would bring along on their circuit—a slate of prosecutors, defense attorneys, a court reporter, investigators, and more. Everyone the judge would need to try a case was in that company, except for the defendants and witnesses. Now, that’s not to say that every trial lawyer traveled with the judge around the territory. In fact, one of the many interesting facts I discovered through my research was that the topmost profession in the 1800s western territories was that of attorney. So not all attorneys could travel with the itinerant court system. In fact, attorneys were so prevalent in that day that most of them had to have a second job to pay the bills, which tied many of them to their local towns. They might also own a saloon (great if the court used their venue for its cases!), ran cattle or horses on a ranch, or operated a local store. Some were miners, land surveyors, or had some other kind of business to help make ends meet. Really, the only attorneys who made a living from their law practice were the ones who were part of the traveling court system. 

By Jonathunder -
Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0,
https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3899115

 

So if a defendant didn’t have a private attorney, a traveling defense attorney would be assigned his case. Same with the prosecutors. If a local prosecutor wasn’t bringing the case, a traveling one was assigned. These attorneys could prepare for their cases before arriving in the town where the trail was to take place by writing letters, sending telegrams, reading up on any reports or testimony that had been gathered (if there was any), and could break away from the traveling company to go and meet with a defendant or other witnesses in between other cases they were assigned. But I’m sure you can imagine, expecting a traveling attorney to mount an airtight defense under such circumstances could be a risky thing. So it was in the defendant’s interest to retain his own attorney so that he could expect a better defense. (Surprise, surprise…not a lot has changed in that aspect between the courts of old and courts of today).

 

(If you’re interested in learning more about how one became an attorney in the Old West, I wrote a post on the topic several years ago. Please find it here.)

 

Lastly, as I mentioned earlier, when the court rolled into town, it was usually quite a spectacle. Often, there was as much excitement for the court proceedings as there might be for a traveling circus, medicine show, or other form of entertainment. And sometimes, there’d be some very interesting happenings in the proceedings. In one case I read about, a widow sat quietly through the trial of her husband’s killer, waited for the verdict, and then calmly left her seat, approached the defendant, and feet from the judge, leveled her dead husband’s pistol at the killer’s belly. If my memory serves, not only the U.S. Marshal bailiff drew down on her, but so did the judge, the defense attorney, and several who’d come to watch the proceedings.

 

So yes, there was a court system in the western territories of the 1800s. But I should add one other fact. The movies, TV shows, and novels I took in during my teens did have it partially right. Because the traveling courts could take months to reach a town and try a case, it often did lead to the prevalence of vigilante groups bringing justice outside of the courts—especially since jails of the Old West tended to be rather “leaky.” (That’s a tease for next month’s topic…)

 

It's Your Turn:

Were you aware that there was a robust court system in the western territories of the 1800s? What did you find surprising about how these courts operated?

 

Jennifer Uhlarik discovered western novels at twelve when she swiped the only “horse” book from her brother’s bookshelf. Across the next decade, she devoured westerns and fell in love with the genre. While attaining a B.A. in writing from the University of Tampa, she began penning her own story of the Old West. She has finaled in and won numerous writing competitions and appeared on various best-seller lists. Besides writing, she’s been a business owner, a schoolteacher, a marketing director, a historical researcher, a publisher, and a full-time homemaker. She lives near Tampa, Florida, with her husband and fur children.

 

 

Available now

 

Love and Order

 

Wanted: 

Family, Love, and Justice

One Old West Mystery Solved Throughout Three Short Romantic Stories

Separated as children when they were adopted out to different families from an orphan train, the Braddock siblings have each grown up and taken on various jobs within law enforcement and criminal justice.

 

Youngest child, Callie, has pushed past her insecurities to pursue a career as a Pinkerton agent. Middle child, Andi, has spent years studying law under her adoptive father’s tutelage. And the eldest and only son, Rion, is a rough-and-tumble bounty hunter. 

 

When the hunt for a serial killer with a long history of murders reunites the brother and sisters in Cambria Springs, Colorado, they find themselves not only in a fight for justice, but also a fight to keep their newly reunited family intact. How will they navigate these challenges when further complicated by unexpected romances?