Wild Bill: Writing to Kin
Uncovering The Man Behind The Myth
Hello, everyone, and welcome to another edition of Canal Stories, a series brought to you by the Canal Corridor Association to celebrate the 175th anniversary of the Illinois & Michigan Canal and the communities that were shaped by its legacy. The 1800s sparked the origins of several American folk heroes and legends, many of whom still live on in our hearts and minds today. One such figure is none other than Wild Bill Hickok, famous lawman, gunslinger, and former mule-tender on the I&M Canal.
With so many larger-than-life tales and outlandish rumors (some even bolstered by the man, himself) that have cemented his reputation for over a century, it would be refreshing to catch a glimpse of who Wild Bill really was, at his core. Well, our friends at the LaSalle County Historical Society in Utica, Illinois, may have just the thing. Today, we’re getting to know the man behind the myth as we explore a few letters written by Wild Bill to the members of his family.
It was 1858 when Wild Bill, still known then only as James, was squatting on Shawnee land. The Hickok family had received word that he was planning to marry a half-blood Shawnee woman, Mary Jane Owen, who had claim to 160 acres. James’ brother, Lorenzo, was soon dispatched to discourage this marriage. When the land where James had been squatting was taken claim by a Wyandot Indian, he moved on.
James wrote one of his little sisters from Monticello on April 22nd, 1858. It is unknown whether he wrote to Celinda or Lydia, but Lydia is whom he is said to have shared a common temperament. In this letter, he refers to the rumored marriage, as well as the native women who came upon him while fishing:
“My dear sister. . . you did not think that I was in earnest when I spoke of marrying, did you? Why, I was only joking. I could not get a wife if I was to try. Why, I am homelier than ever nowadays, and you know that the women don’t love homely men. . . Warner was here the other day, and I sent a letter home by him. Him and myself drank some lager together. . . you ought to see me fishing on my claim. I can catch any kind of fish that I want to. I have fed my fish till they are all tame. The girls come to my claim a fishing some times, and that I don’t like. . . This is a free country. Everyone does as he pleases. . . from your affectionate brother, James Butler Hickok . . .”
In writing directly to his mother, Polly, a month earlier, on September 28th, 1856, James complains that he has received few letters from her. He avoids telling her what he was doing in Kansas at that time, but offers to tell her later:
“Dear mother, You say write often. You know what I came to Kansas for, or you would not have asked me that. I will tell you before long what I am doing and what I have been doing. The excitement is pretty much over. I have seen since we been here sights that would make the wickedest hearts sick, believe me, mother, for what I say is true. Can’t come home this fall. It would not look well. Tell the boys all to write me. . . This is from your son, J. B. Hickok . . .”
In another letter, from 1856, he starts off writing to his brother by apologizing for his writing, which we can assume his mother, as an educated woman, valued greatly. In this letter, he refers to his mother’s disapproval as a voice of conscience in his head. Her disapproval appears as a “tut tut” when he acts in discord with her expectations:
“Now, my Dear Brother, I want you to excuse those few lines that I have written to you, and also those bad mistakes and bad spelling for I have written them all by candle light every night when I was about half right and the other half not exactly right, and I can’t see well enough to spell well at night when I am all right. I have got a bad cold. Otherwise, I am well – weighing 180 pounds now. I will tell you a few lies. I have quit swearing now - take care there, Bill. I have quit drinking - tut tut now, Bill. I have quit playing poker now – there, take care what you say. I have quite dancing entirely. I have quit chewing tobacco, and I don’t take any lager beer, and I don’t speak to the girls at all. I am to be a perfect hermit. My fiddle, my dog, and my gun I almost worship. I hold no interest with the world around as everything looks dark about me, but there is a bright spark a head and it I see, and it I will pursue till my fiddle strings break, and my dog dies, and my gun bursts. That is so.”
On March 5th, 1876, after five years of courting, Wild Bill married a woman he respected, a widowed circus owner by the name of Mrs. Agnes Lake Thatcher. Forever a traveling man, he was not married but two weeks before setting off alone for the gold fields of the Dakotas, where he interspersed prospecting with gambling. In one letter from Omaha, Nebraska, in June of 1876, he wrote to his wife referring to her as “my Agnes.” He wrote that he wanted to put his hands on her shoulders and kiss her, before signing “from your ever loving husband, J.B. Hickok,” followed by “Wild Bill.” He also asked Agnes to give love to his daughter-in-law Emma. He was killed before the end of the year. When Wild Bill’s mother, Polly, learned of his death, she suffered a physical collapse and mourned him until her own death in 1878.
That concludes today’s Canal Story. Thank you so much for joining us as we continue our journey through the history of the Illinois & Michigan Canal. If you’ve enjoyed this episode, pass it along to your family and friends, leave us a like or drop us a comment, and we’ll see you again very soon.