The Cattle Boom
Into the vacuum of open range created by the virtual annihilation of the
buffalo came the cattle barons, the great herds of Texas longhorns, and that
classic Wyoming archetype, the cowboy. Although the great cattle boom
lasted only a decade, it had an enormous impact on Wyoming's self image and
its image in the eyes of the rest of the world. The first people to
begin cattle ranching in northeastern Wyoming were a wealthy, aristocratic
group. Of the twenty big ranches operating in 1884, ten had English or
Scottish backers and others were backed by German or American money.
English brothers Moreton and Richard Frewen threw spectacular parties at
their log castle located south of Buffalo. Their guests traveled 250
miles north from the railroad in private stagecoaches; with them came
hothouse flowers from Denver so the ladies could wear corsages at dinner.
Many of the cattle barons were horsemen, having hunted fox in England or
having fought as hussars, but most weren't actually in charge of day-to-day
operations. Although they entertained their guests at remote and
beautiful ranch homes, they entertained themselves back in civilized
Cheyenne. Here they maintained elegant town homes and an unofficial
headquarters, the exclusive Cheyenne Club. It was a romantic,
attractive lifestyle, and the cattle business was wildly profitable -- at
least in the beginning.
In many ways, the cattle barons had transplanted the European feudal system
directly into the heart of Wyoming. Soon, however, problems began to
crop up. Wyoming cattle operations were much more flexible than a
feudal system ought to have been. The owners delegated authority to
foremen, who in turn directed the activities of the cowhands. But
these divisions were not set in stone. A cowboy who was good at his
job might easily become a foreman, and there was nothing to stop a foreman
from going into business for himself. The land itself was legally
owned by no one and the cattle ranged freely. They were rounded up,
sorted, and sold only once a year.
Cattle Barons and Rustlers
Branded cattle had legal owners, of course, as did their calves.
Mavericks -- weaned unbranded calves -- were a different story. The
cattle barons’ system for handling them was to collect them at the roundup
and distribute them according to each baron's herd size. The small
ranchers, on the other hand, saw mavericks as a marvelous way for an
entrepreneur to make a start in the world. Although there were many
scrupulously honest small ranchers, there were also many variations on the
fine art of creating a cattle herd out of thin air. It was considered
legal for anyone to brand year-old mavericks that had been missed in the
round ups, but many were not too careful. Some even created instant
mavericks by slitting calves' tongues so they could no longer suckle.
Cows began to miraculously give birth to twins, triplets, and even
quadruplets. The short (or running) iron allowed a cowboy to put a
brand on a calf or alter a brand on a cow very quickly. And of course,
the group of ranchers who held their roundup first had control over any
mavericks they collected.
The big ranches were not only losing their profits to rustling, they were
facing encroaching sheep herds, increasing wolf depredation, and cattle
diseases. The range itself was becoming over grazed. When a
summer of drought was followed by severe blizzards during the winter of
1886-1887, thousands of cattle died. Cattle prices plummeted as well,
and many of the cattle barons, including the Frewens, were forced out of
business. The beleaguered cattle barons who remained found themselves
greatly outnumbered by small ranchers who had little or no sympathy for
their problems. When the barons found that it was almost impossible to
get a jury to convict someone of stealing cattle, they began to exert more
questionable forms of power. Their Wyoming Stock Growers Association
had employed range detectives since the mid 1870's to help curb cattle
rustling -- these detectives were increasingly implicated in the deaths of
assorted small ranchers and suspected cattle thieves. The Association
made it extremely difficult to register a new brand, and employed stock
inspectors at shipping points to confiscate cattle with unregistered brands.
They also gained a legal right to set the dates of the spring cattle roundup
and tightly controlled which outfits would be allowed to participate.
The towns in the region became polarized: Sheridan was a bastion of the
cattle barons, while nearby Buffalo was a small rancher stronghold.
The Johnson County War
In the spring of 1892, two years after Wyoming became a state, a group of
small ranchers in Johnson County formed the upstart Northern Wyoming Farmers
and Stock Growers Association. They scheduled their own roundup in
advance of the roundup organized by the Wyoming Stock Grower's Association.
They appointed Nate Champion, who had a widespread reputation for cattle
rustling, as roundup foreman. Losing what was left of their patience,
the members of the Wyoming Stock Growers Association decided to settle the
matter once and for all. Member Frank Wolcott had been agitating for
some type of action and the previous summer had suggested the possibility of
having a “lynching bee.” Two days after their annual meeting at the
Cheyenne Club, about twenty ranch owners and foremen, along with five stock
detectives, a reporter for the Chicago Herald, and twenty-two hired Texas
gunmen (mostly unemployed sheriffs and U.S. marshals) boarded a train for
Casper. Two adventurous Easterners came along for the excitement.
One of them, Dr. Charles Penrose of Philadelphia, volunteered his services
as company physician. The invaders had a hit list of 70 small
ranchers/rustlers whose careers they intended to end. They planned to
take over the town of Buffalo and administer “justice” from there.
After cutting the telegraph line to keep word of their invasion from going
ahead of them, they headed north from Casper on horseback, supply wagons
following.
Forty miles up the road they heard that fifteen of the rustlers were
spending the night at the nearby KC Ranch. By dawn, the two small
ranch buildings were completely surrounded. Inside the ranch house
slept only four men -- two uninvolved trappers and two men on the hit list: Nate Champion and Nick Ray. The trappers happened to go outside first
and were quietly captured. Nick Ray came out next into a hail of
bullets and fell, seriously wounded. Champion managed to drag Ray back
into the building, where he eventually died. Champion spent the day
holding off (and delaying the progress of) the entire band of invaders while
keeping a diary of the day's events. When a neighboring rancher and
his son accidentally stumbled into the siege, they too were shot at, but
managed to escape, leaving their wagon behind. They then rode directly
for Buffalo, spreading the alarm as they went.
Now that the invaders’ surprise attack was in jeopardy, they ended the
standoff with Champion by loading the neighbor's wagon with flammable
materials, shoving it up against the log cabin, and setting it on fire.
Champion, whose only hope had been to make a break for freedom once night
fell, closed his diary with this entry. "It's not night yet. The house
is all fired. Goodbye, boys, if I never see you again." He made his
break in broad daylight and was immediately killed.
A day behind schedule and with only two names crossed off their list, the
invaders hurried on toward Buffalo. They were nearly there when a
sympathizer warned them of a “welcoming party” waiting eagerly at the
Buffalo city limits, so they turned back and took refuge at the TA Ranch
twelve miles southeast of Buffalo on Crazy Woman Creek. The TA was
owned by an Association member and they built breast works, dug rifle pits,
and otherwise prepared it for a siege.
The Johnson County defenders, meanwhile, made their own preparations.
When they captured the invaders' supply wagons they discovered dynamite as
well as food. They also tried to borrow a cannon from nearby
Fort McKinney.
By April 11, two days after Champion's death, at least 200 Johnson County
defenders surrounded the TA. All had been legally deputized for the
occasion. Bullets flew harmlessly back and forth for two days while
the defenders -- now the ones on the attack -- built a moveable wall (a
double thickness of eight inch logs attached to two wagons) that could be
moved by a handful of men while protecting up to forty. The wall was
intended to get them close enough to the ranch buildings to begin lobbing
dynamite bombs.
At sunrise on April 13, the completed wall was being moved into place when
help arrived for the invaders. The telegraph line had finally been
repaired, and influential friends had convinced Wyoming's governor to
telegraph President Harrison for help. The governor described the
conflict as an insurrection against the Government of Wyoming and Harrison
called out Fort McKinney's cavalry. The invaders surrendered
themselves into the protective custody of the Army, which transferred them
to Cheyenne, where the Texas contingent was released on bail and promptly
disappeared. The locals were housed at the jail at night but were free
during the day. Court proceedings dragged on, material witnesses
disappeared, and when Johnson County was unable to afford room and board for
so many prisoners, the entire case was dismissed. It was a typical
Wyoming sort of justice. Both sides of the conflict gained some
wisdom, however, and tensions gradually lessened. Today descendants of
the cattle barons and the small ranchers exist amicably side by side.
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