Category: Old west newspapers

Newspapers of the Old West

Hi everyone, Winnie Griggs here. Whenever I go to an estate sale or thrift store, one of the things I like to check out are the book shelves. Over the years I’ve found some nice, eclectic research nuggets.

One such book is one I picked up recently call “Newspapering In The Old West.” I know most folks get their news via television or some form of online access these days, but it wasn’t so long ago that the morning paper was a fixture in just about everyone’s home.

This tome not only talks about newspapermen, printing presses and practices of the time, but it also contains a wealth of excerpts from the papers themselves including news stories, photographs and advertisements. Thumbing through this book provides a fascinating glimpse into the history of the old west from the perspective of the early news media.

One story, titled From Dodge City to Potato Hill reads as follows: “Embry, who shot Anthony, editor of the Leavenworth Times, has been acquitted. That’s just the way with some juries – they think it no more harm to shoot an editor than a Jack-rabbit.” Marion County Record, Marion, Kansas, 1876.

The book is also full of fascinating little tidbits, like this one: “Some frontier publishers printed on cloth because of paper shortages. In 1887, however, the Omaha Daily World printed just four copies of its October 12 edition on satin in honor of a visit to that city by President Cleveland.”

Another interesting little fact I learned was that many of the old west newspapers were not averse to hiring women as typesetters and linotype operators. And then there was this  side note: “Husband and wife publishing teams were commonplace on the frontier. Before 1900 the women were more often found in the back shop rather than in editorial positions.” These tidbits will undoubtedly find their way into a book of mine someday.

I was also fascinated by some of the colorful names these early newspapers had, names like The Solid Muldoon, The Tombstone Prospector, The Territorial Enterprise, The Epitaph, The Pick and Drill, The Colorado Chieftain, The Frontier Scout, The Thomas County Cat and The Red-wing Carrier Pigeon.

There was a whole lot more, and the photos were fascinating. If you’re interested in checking it out, you can find copies at THIS LINK

So what do you think? Do you still get the newspaper delivered to your home? And do you know any fun or unusual names of newspapers to add to my list?

Updated: February 5, 2017 — 1:02 am

Kitty LeRoy: Beloved Tramp

Main Street, Deadwood, SD, 1876

Main Street, Deadwood, SD, 1876

Some real-life episodes in the Old West read like fictional adventures. Some read like tragedies. Some read like romances.

The life stories of a few non-fictional characters—like Kitty LeRoy—combine all three.

“…Kitty LeRoy was what a real man would call a starry beauty,” one of her contemporaries noted in a book with a ridiculously long title*. “Her brow was low and her brown hair thick and curling; she had five husbands, seven revolvers, a dozen bowie-knives and always went armed to the teeth, which latter were like pearls set in coral.”

From all reports, LeRoy was a stunning beauty with a sparkling personality that had men—including both notorious outlaws and iconic officers of the law—throwing themselves at her feet. She was proficient in the arts of flirtation and seduction, and she didn’t hesitate to employ her feminine wiles to get what she wanted.

Often, what she wanted was the pot in a game of chance. One of the most accomplished poker players of her time, LeRoy spent much of her short life in gambling establishments. Eventually, she opened her own in one of the most notorious dens of iniquity the West has ever known: Deadwood, South Dakota. With spectacular diamonds at ears, neck, wrists, and fingers glittering bright enough to blind her customers every night, it’s no wonder LeRoy’s Mint Gambling Saloon prospered.

With her reputation as an expert markswoman, there was very little trouble…at least at the tables.

LeRoy was born in 1850, although no one is sure where. Some say Texas; others, Michigan. One thing is certain: By the age of ten, she was performing on the stage. Working in dancehalls and saloons, she either picked up or augmented an innate ability to manipulate, along with gambling and weaponry skills that would serve her well for most of her life. According to local lore, at fifteen she married her first husband because he was the only man in Bay City, Michigan, who would let her shoot apples off his head while she galloped past on horseback.

Lower Main Street, Deadwood, SD, 1877

Lower Main Street, Deadwood, SD, 1877

A long attention span apparently was not among the skills LeRoy cultivated. Shortly after her marriage, she left her husband and infant son behind and headed for Texas. By the age of twenty, she had reached the pinnacle of popularity at Johnny Thompson’s Variety Theatre in Dallas, only to leave entertaining behind, too.

Instead, she tried her hand as a faro dealer. Ah, now there was a career that suited. Excitement, money, men…and extravagant costumes. Players never knew what character they would face until she appeared. A man? A sophisticate? A gypsy?

Texas soon bored LeRoy, but no matter. With a new saloonkeeper husband in tow, she headed for San Francisco—only to discover the streets were not paved with gold, as she had heard. While muddling through that conundrum, she somehow misplaced husband number two, which undoubtedly made it easier for her to engage in the sorts of promiscuous shenanigans for which she rapidly gained a reputation.

Although the reputation didn’t hurt her at the gaming tables, it did create a certain amount of unwanted attention. One too-ardent admirer persisted to such an extent that LeRoy challenged him to a duel. The man demurred, reportedly not wishing to take advantage of a woman. Never one to let a little thing like gender stand in her way, LeRoy changed into men’s clothes, returned, and challenged her suitor again. When he refused to draw a second time, she shot him anyway. Then, reportedly overcome with guilt, she called a minister and married husband number three as he breathed his last.

Now a widow, LeRoy hopped a wagon train with Wild Bill Hickock and Calamity Jane and headed for the thriving boomtown of Deadwood. They arrived in July 1876, and LeRoy became an instant success by entertaining adoring prospectors nightly at Al Swearengen’s notorious Gem Theatre. Within a few months, she had earned enough money to open her own establishment: the Mint. There, she met and married husband number four, a German who had struck it rich in Black Hills gold. When the prospector’s fortune ran out, so did LeRoy’s interest. She hit him over the head with a bottle and kicked him to the curb—literally.

Gem Theatre, Deadwood, SD, 1878

Gem Theatre, Deadwood, SD, 1878

Meanwhile, thanks to LeRoy’s mystique—and allegedly no little fooling around with the customers—the Mint became a thriving operation. LeRoy reportedly “entertained” legendary characters as diverse as Hickock and Sam Bass. But it was 35-year-old card shark Samuel R. Curley who finally claimed her heart. Curley, besotted himself, became husband number five on June 11, 1877.

Shortly thereafter, Curley learned LeRoy hadn’t divorced her first husband. The bigamy realization, combined with rumors about LeRoy’s continued promiscuity, proved too much for the usually peaceful gambler. He stormed out of the Mint and didn’t stop until he reached Denver, Colorado.

Folks who knew LeRoy said she changed after Curley’s departure. Despite nights during which she raked in as much as $8,000 with a single turn of the cards, she grew cold and suspicious.

Her grief seemed to dissipate a bit when an old lover showed up in Deadwood. LeRoy rented rooms above the Lone Star Saloon, and the two moved in together.

By then, Curley was dealing faro in a posh Cheyenne, Wyoming, saloon. When word of LeRoy’s new relationship reached him, he flew into a jealous rage. Determined to confront his wife and her lover, he returned to Deadwood December 6, 1877. When the lover refused to see him, Curley told a Lone Star employee he’d kill them both.

LeRoy, reportedly still pining for her husband, agreed to meet Curley in her rooms at the Lone Star. Not long after she ascended the stairs, patrons below reported hearing a scream and two gunshots.

Deadwood, SD, 1878

Deadwood, SD, 1878

The following day, the Black Hills Daily Times reported the gruesome scene: LeRoy lay on her back, her eyes closed. Except for the bullet hole in her chest, the 27-year-old looked as though she were asleep. Curley lay face down, his skull destroyed by a bullet from the Smith & Wesson still gripped in his right hand.

“Suspended upon the wall, a pretty picture of Kitty, taken when the bloom and vigor of youth gazed down upon the tenements of clay, as if to enable the visitor to contrast a happy past with a most wretched present,” the newspaper report stated. “The pool of blood rested upon the floor; blood stains were upon the door and walls…”

An understated funeral took place in the room where Curley killed his wife and then took his own life. Their caskets were buried in the same grave in the city’s Ingleside Cemetery and later moved to an unmarked plot in the more noteworthy Mount Moriah.

The happiness the couple could not find together in life, apparently they did in death. Within a month of the funeral, Lone Star patrons began to report seeing apparitions “recline in a loving embrace and finally melt away in the shadows of the night.” The sightings became so frequent, the editor of the Black Hills Daily Times investigated the matter himself. His report appeared in the paper February 28, 1878:

…[W]e simply give the following, as it appeared to us, and leave the reader to draw their own conclusions as to the phenomena witnessed by ourselves and many others. It is an oft repeated tale, but one which in this case is lent more than ordinary interest by the tragic events surrounding the actors.

To tell our tale briefly and simply, is to repeat a story old and well known — the reappearance, in spirit form, of departed humanity. In this case it is the shadow of a woman, comely, if not beautiful, and always following her footsteps, the tread and form of the man who was the cause of their double death. In the still watches of the night, the double phantoms are seen to tread the stairs where once they reclined in the flesh and linger o’er places where once they reclined in loving embrace, and finally to melt away in the shadows of the night as peacefully as their bodies’ souls seem to have done when the fatal bullets brought death and the grave to each.

Whatever may have been the vices and virtues of the ill-starred and ill-mated couple, we trust their spirits may find a happier camping ground than the hills and gulches of the Black Hills, and that tho’ infelicity reigned with them here, happiness may blossom in a fairer climate.



* Life and Adventures of SAM BASS, the Notorious Union Pacific and Texas Train Robber, Together with a Graphic Account of His Capture and Death, Sketch of the Members of his Band, with Thrilling Pen Pictures of their Many Bold and Desperate Deeds, and the Capture and Death of Collins, Berry, Barnes, and Arkansas Johnson (W.L. Hall & Company, 1878)

The Lady Was a Gambler: True Stories of Notorious Women of the Old West by Chris Enss (TwoDot, October 2007)

Women of the Western Frontier in Fact, Fiction and Film by Ronald W. Lackmann (McFarland & Company Inc., January 1997)




World of Newspaper Publishing by Carol Cox

carolphotoI’ll admit it—I’m a research junkie. I love digging up new information that will breathe life into my historical novels. In writing my latest release, Truth Be Told, that meant delving into the world of newspaper publishing in the late 19th century. My travels over the past year took me to a number of museums featuring exhibits from early frontier newspaper offices.


I picked up some basic terminology from those visits—as well as from reference books—but for this story, I needed more. Amelia Wagner, my heroine, would be operating a weekly frontier newspaper. Many scenes would be set in the printing office, so I had to have a clear idea of what the setup would look like. And what would she be doing from one day to the next? I needed to make sure the setting and Amelia’s activities offered an accurate reflection of the times.
After scouring the internet for more information, it turned out the answer lay practically in my own back yard. A call to Sharlot Hall Museum in nearby Prescott led me to Sky Shipley, the owner-operator of one of only three type foundries left in the UnitedState, who graciously agreed to help fill in the many gaps in my knowledge.
Washington_Hand_PressWe met at the print shop at Sharlot Hall Museum, where a Washington hand press—identical to the one Amelia uses in Truth Be Told—is on display.


Seeing the press up close and personal helped me envision some of the day-to-day operations of a weekly frontier newspaper. I could almost see the ink man using a brayer to distribute ink across the set form while the press man put a sheet of newsprint in place before cranking it forward under the platen.
Hauling on the lever, the press man would move the platen down to make an impression on the paper before rolling it back again so the sheet could be stripped out and then repeating the process all over again, one sheet at a time.
Two people working in a well-established rhythm might be able to make two impressions per minute.  After printing, the sheets would be hung up to let the ink dry before being printed on the other side.
While the Washington press would have been used to print the weekly paper, jobbing presses, like the one in the photo below, produced smaller items—business card, invitations, menus, wanted posters, etc.—that provided a much-needed cash flow essential to the paper’s survival.

Jobbing_pressOne especially fascinating tidbit of information was that newspapers of that era were often the target of ill will, because editors had opinions that didn’t always sit well with all sectors of the population. Editors were threatened, and their shops were sometimes attacked. In addition, editors often had wars in print with each other. When it came to name-calling, there were no holds barred, and no one cared much whether the printed accusations were true or not.

That set the stage perfectly for the premise of Truth Be Told, where Amelia’s father, the original editor of the Granite Springs Gazette, is a man committed to printing nothing but the truth. His passion for integrity would have made him something of an anomaly—and a ready target for men who were less scrupulous.
It was a thrill to find such a treasure trove of information so close at hand, and it just goes to show you never know where research may take you…sometimes you’ll find the answers you need right under your nose!
Truth Be Told cover
Many thanks to Karen Witemeyer for inviting me to join you today! I’ll be giving away a print copy of Truth Be Told, so be sure to leave a comment in order to be included in the drawing. I can’t wait to chat with you!


Updated: May 22, 2014 — 7:37 pm

Today in Texas History – Last Known American Town Crier Dies

newsletter_headerjpg - 2

towncrierHear Ye . . . Hear Ye . . .

What do you think of when you hear the term Town Crier? I tend to picture Paul Revere shouting warnings about the British or those medeival guardsmen pacing about and announcing “9 o’clock and all’s well” every hour. Before the advent of newspapers, town criers were responsible for shouting out the relevant news items to the townsfolk. However, as times progressed and news traveled by way of newspapers, telegraph, and even telephone, the town crier’s job description transitioned into an advertising role. Companies would pay them to advertise their goods and services. The town government would pay them to announce times and locations of sporting events and parades.

Technology, the radio in particular, eventually erradicated the need for town criers. Yet there were a few who held on to the treasured tradition longer than most. The one to hang on the longest was Julius Myers, the last known American crier. And on this day in Texas history, September 18, 1929, Julius Myers died in San Antonio at the age of 62.

Julius Myers was born in New York in 1868 and moved to Luling, Texas at around age 20. He opened a small grocery business and soon after began advertising with posters and hand bills. Before long, other companies noted his success, and paid him to advertise for them as well. At the time, newspapers only came out once a week, so this form of additional advertising proved quite effective. His business thrived.

In 1912, Julius moved to San Antonio and became the official town crier. He and hist trusty steed, Tootsie, could be seen roaming up and down Houston and Commerce streets on a daily basis. He carried a megaphone and would call out details pertaining to store sales, theater performances, and sporting events. He would dress in costume to match what he was advertising. A farmer for a farm and ranch show, a clown for a dog show, even a frontiersman with buckskin and six shooter. He also donated his time and voice to charitable causes like the Red Cross and the Elks Lodge when they sponsored events to raise money for needy children.

San Antonio 1920s

Downtown San Antonio, 1920s

Eventually, as more and more automobiles clogged the downtown streets, people began to complain that Julius and his horse were holding up traffic. In 1927, the mayor officially asked Julius to resign his position as town crier. So many people missed him, though, that pettetions were signed and demands were made to reinstate him, calling him a San Antonio institution and a unique tourist attraction. A few months later, Julius was given special permission to resume his role on a limited basis as long as he didn’t use his horse and impede traffic. Julius continued on as town crier until his death two years later.



Have you ever seen an historical reenactment with a town crier?

What is your preferred method of receiving local news today? TV, online, newspaper, Facebook?

Updated: September 9, 2013 — 10:33 am

Yesteryear’s News …

My hero in our first Anthology “Give Me a Texan” was newspaperman Quinten Corbett who wasn’t exactly expecting his new apprentice to be a female.  Quin has to find something for the Boston-born Kaira Renaulde to do since she was much too sophisticated for the rough-and-tumble frontier town of Amarillo. He gives her assignments that today might be called “fluff” reporting.

In order to stay authentic, I researched newspaper articles during that era and used two of them.  “October 9, 1884: An itinerant looking man with very small mules was selling apples and things here Wednesday. They came from Wichita Falls. The apples retailed at four bits a dozen, and were quickly taken.”    — The Mobeetie Panhandle

Naturally, this type of article didn’t set well with the newspaper man, so he sends her out again.  This time she comes up with another piece.  “August 14, 1884: The juicy watermelon, the odoriferous muskmelon and the warty, git-up-and-dust cucumber have been here several days. Men and things change, but every returning season finds the cucumber possessing unalterably the same old characteristics.”    — The Mobeetie Panhandle

I’m happy to say that “Give Me a Texan” is still in print, so if you want to know more about how Quin and Kaira handle working together, you can still order it through and

In the anthology “Give Me a Texas Outlaw” coming out next month I used old newspaper articles for the epilogue taking a bit of creative liberties. I tried to tie together my stories in the four anthologies just a little bit, along with foreshadowing the next two in the series coming out later this year.

October 25, 1890: “At Tolosa, five miles south of Kemp, John Williams and Will Perkins became engaged in a difficulty, both being under the influence of whiskey. Perkins struck Williams just above the temple with a black smith’s hammer, smashing his skull. Williams made his escape, with the officer in pursuit, going in the direction of Athens, his former home. Williams is the son-in-law of W. Almow, a prominent farmer.”  Note: They called this “engaging in a difficulty” in those days?          —The Galveston Daily News

December 19, 1890: “Professor Garard, superintendent of the public schools, died very suddenly last night. He had been complaining a little for several days, but was feeling better yesterday. He ate a hearty supper last night, retired to his room and was found dead this morning.”   —The Galveston Daily News

I thought it’d be fun today to give you a taste of authentic news articles during the 1800’s.  I’ve left the spelling and punctuation as it was written for authenticity, so you’ll see some very odd spelling.  It took the folks a while to decide exactly how to spell Panhandle.  It was Pan Handle and Pan-handle, plus a couple of other ways before they settled into Panhandle.

“September 27, 1883: The largest cattle ranch in the world is said to be that of Charles Goodnight, at the head of Red River, Texas. He began buying land four years ago, securing 270,000 acres at 36 cents per acre. In the meantime the price has advanced from $1 to $2 per acre, but he is still buying, and controls 700,000 acres. To enclose his landed possessions, 250 miles of fence is required. On the range he has 40,000 cattle.”   Dodge City Times

September 20, 1883: “The wire cutters are busy at work with their clippers, cutting the fences in Montague, Clay, Wise and Denton counties, greatly to the annoyance of the owners.”

–Mobeetie Panhandle

June 29, 1882: “Hamburg has a curiosity in the shape of a chicken which has only one leg. It was hatched that way, is about two months old and seems as happy and contented as though it had four legs.”     —Dodge City Times

May 18, 1882:  “Pan Handle Items: The road between here and Tascosa said to be well defined by a row of black bottles that flash back the rays of the sun. They are empty.”   –Mobeetie Panhandle

October 16, 1880: “Land in Texas is cheap. The last Legislature set apart 3,000,000 acres of land in the Pan Handle, ordered a survey and put it on the market at a minimum price of 50 cents per acre. The survey of this 3,000,000 acres has been completed, and the land is now in market.” **    —Dodge City Times

**This is the land the state traded for a new capitol building, land that became the well-known XIT Ranch.   On my list of future blogs is the story of the famous XIT Ranch, which is still in existence today.

And, one of my favorite articles comes from the Dodge City Times dated September 20, 1879: “The Pan Handle has been suffering for the want of rain, as several weeks have elapsed since rain has fallen; and if we don’t soon get rain we will have a long dry spell.”

Since the Panhandle, as it was finally spelled, is suffering from a serious drought and prairie fires today, I must agree … if we don’t soon ge rain we will have a long dry spell.

Do you have favorite newspaper or magazine quotes you’d like to share?

I’ll draw for two lucky commenters today! You can have your choice of “Give Me a Texan” and find out more about Kaira and Quin or our newest anthology due out next month, “Give Me a Texas Outlaw”.

Give Me A Texas Outlaw


Updated: August 9, 2011 — 10:40 am

All the News That’s Fit to Print–and Then Some


Love and Laughter in the Old West


Margaret Brownley





One of my favorite research tools is old newspapers.  I used to make myself sick going through microfiche at the library, but thanks to the Internet many old newspapers are now available on line.


Reading some of these newspapers is like reading the National Enquirer.  During the 1800s there were no shortages of ghosts, UFOS, monsters and other strange phenomena.  Weird animals?  You name it.  Giant reptiles, huge birds and an eighteen horn cow made headlines.  It wasn’t just oversized animals that made news: One man supposedly outgrew his coffin. 


Buzzing lights, airships, immense meteors and strange moving lights were witnessed by firemen, undertakers, miners and a twelve year old who “didn’t believe in ghosts, whose parents never scared him with spook stories, and who is one of the best behaved scholars in the fourth grade.”


Meteor sightings frightened residents and created “adject fear” in livestock. An air ship spotted over Dallas, Texas in 1896 was proclaimed by preachers to be the “Second coming of Christ.”


Cowboys and Martians


You’ve heard of Roswell and the alien that supposedly crashed there, but did you know that something similar happened in Aurora, TX in 1887?  According to “Hidden Headlines of Texas” compiled by Chad Lewis “something out of this world” crashed and demolished a windmill in Aurora.  “Mr. T.J. Weems, a U.S. Army Signal Service Officer and an authority on astronomy, gives his opinion that the pilot was a native of Mars.”


Ghosts were reported throughout the west, even by those proclaiming not to believe in them.  Houses, mines, theaters and even certain roads were haunted.  According to an article in a Tombstone Epitaph dated 1907, a Texas mining man purchased a haunted mine and soon realized his mistake when “spirits” chased away his workers.


Wild men ran rampant through the old west, though none of the real wild men reported in newspapers were quite as handsome as the “wild man” in my June release A Vision of Lucy (Yep, inspiration abounds in those old newspapers). Posses were formed to chase down scantily-clad wild men but apparently few were ever caught. 


Blame it on the Republicans


One wild man in Galveston created “consternation” among its citizens by “lapping up milk like a dog” and “eating fried chicken raw.”   Not everyone was disturbed by his behavior.  The Galveston Daily News defended the wild man in an editorial: “Well, do not be heard on the poor, frenzied half-frenzied creature; he is probably some eminent Republican who ran away to keep from being nominated for the vice presidency.”


“Lunacy” and “sudden insanity” seemed to plague 19th century citizens.  Jokes, religious excitement, storms and disgrace were among the reasons given for a sudden crazed or deranged state.   One husband had his wife committed for reading a dime novel.


You’ve heard of postal workers running amok, right?  It turns out that telegraph operators sometimes went postal, too.  One such telegrapher in El Paso, Texas proclaimed he was God and threatened to “demolish” a co-worker.   Another crazed telegraph operator terrorized an entire county.  It’s not clear if he was ever captured.  Then there was the man who claimed to be hypnotized by telegram.


Things got so bad according to a preface in Wisconsin Death Trap by Michael Lesy that “Many historians have become convinced there was a major crisis in American life during the 1890s.”


 Must be Those Electric Curlers


Some people blamed the bizarre behavior reported in newspaper in the latter half of the nineteenth century on the Industrial Revolution.  Electricity, telephone and automobile came right on the heels of the train and telegraph.  Not only did these inventions change the way people lived but how they thought.  Electricity was even blamed for “messing with women’s heads.”  Some were more than eager to blame Edison for the suffragette movement that swept the country.   


It kind of makes you wonder what they’ll say about those of us who lived through the electronic revolution, doesn’t it?  Personally, I haven’t seen any Martians, but I swear I was once hypnotized by my iphone.


A Vision of Lucy (A Rocky Creek Romance)

Updated: May 20, 2011 — 6:07 am
Petticoats & Pistols © 2015