Because I had a misspent youth in the Fort Worth Stockyards before the advent of Billy Bob's Texas and all things touristy there, when the streets were still dark and drunks still made impromptu beds of the sidewalk -- and because I have always been attracted to dangerous men -- my first post on this blog will be about gunfighter Luke Short of White Elephant Saloon Shootout fame. (The crowning achievement of my misspent youth was working as a teenage cocktail waitress at the White Elephant. My mother was so proud, as you might well imagine.)
Now the gunfight involving Luke and 'Longhair Jim' Courtright ended in front of a shooting gallery down the way, but it began in the White Elephant. To be fair to you, gentle reader, it should be noted that the saloon was then located a bit further away, in Hell's Half Acre -- one of the Old West's seamiest dens of iniquity -- comprising gambling, prostitution, robbery, armed and unarmed violence, outright murder, and any other illicit activity you can think of.
Luke Short was new to town, and a dapper and deceptively mild-mannered fellow of middling height. He probably appeared to most unsuspecting Cowtowners to be a harmless dude.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
Luke -- though he was of nondescript stature, dressed fancy, and bathed way too often to suit most Westerners -- had grown up in Texas. He took off for the hinterlands as a kid after reportedly killing a school bully with a pair of scissors. He then made a living cowboying for several years, followed by scouting and riding dispatch for the Army.
The itchy-footed young man subsequently peddled booze to the Native Americans, escaped from federal officers trying to arrest him for this business, played cards, and ran saloons and gambling houses. He had a famously fatal gunfight in Tombstone, AZ under his belt as well as various and sundry other killings.
Luke next tangled viciously, and victoriously, with Dodge City officials trying to railroad him out of town and business as a hall manager, resulting in what was known as the Dodge City War. He was tight with none other than Bat Masterson and Wyatt Earp.
Let me put it this way: Savvy folks gave Luke Short a wide and polite berth.
Let me put it another way: During his heyday, Luke Short was nicknamed "The Undertaker's Best Friend."
Okay, are we all on the same page here?
Well, on the night of Feb. 8, 1887, Luke was in his mid-thirties and had been hired to take over the down-on-its-luck White Elephant Saloon. Owners hoped his natty appearance and shadily glamourous reputation might turn the business around.
A Fort Worth fixture and popular former marshal named Longhair Jim Courtright, who was running a 'protection' racket, was more than a little P.O.'ed that newcomer Luke had refused his services -- i.e., Luke wouldn't pay up. He told Jim he felt sure he could more than take care of any situation which might arise in his place of business.
Jim should have listened.
Instead, he determined to make an example of the outsider and called Luke out of the White Elephant on that cold evening in 1887. They walked down the street about a half-block, exchanged words, turned, and Jim reached for his gun.
Unfortunately, his revolver caught on his watch-chain and Luke got the drop on him, shooting off Jim's right thumb. Jim tried to flip the gun to his left hand to fire (i.e., a 'Mexican switch'), but in the interim Luke drilled him four more times.
The "Undertaker's Best Friend" had struck again.
Longhair Jim had the biggest funeral the town had ever seen up until that time, but Luke went scot-free in this very public case of self-defense.
He stayed around until he felt good and ready to leave, later ranging quietly (unless bothered) around the West until 1893, when he 'died sociable' in his bed in Kansas of heart failure.
However, Luke Short is buried in the same Fort Worth cemetery -- Oakwood -- as Longhair Jim Courtright.
Go figure.
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