Howdy everyone. Looks like the month of April has proved it will continue to shower to bring forth May flowers. On the other side, the wind seems to want to tear everything apart and rain continues to flood. Snow blankets the mountains much to the delight of the skiers and snow boarders. The calendar proclaims that spring has sprung -- but old man winter hasn't quit yet. It is interesting how weather is unpredictable. We're a bit late with our efforts of the WW newsletter, but sure you will enjoy what is here.

The Western Writers of America conference is scheduled for June 13 - 17 at Kerrville, Texas. The hard working members who have organized this years conference have an excellent program planned. It might be a good idea, if you are planning to attend, to arrange your flight passage now. Make sure your reservations at the hotel are set. Don't forget the early bird gets the best seats on the plane and the best rooms at the hotel. The following are interesting links:
Link to Yo ranch-> Holiday Inn Y.O. Ranch Kerrville, Texas
Link to San Antonio, airport-> SAN ANTONIO INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

Western Writers: When did you start writing?

JT: In high school, just for fun. After my discharge from the Air Force and graduating from Woodbury University in Los Angeles, I took two writing courses at University of California. Then I started to get serious with my writing, submitting stories to magazines. None sold, but I kept studying and writing.

WW: Why did you choose the western genre?

JT: I had always written contemporary fiction. When I reached retirement age, I left California and came back to my "roots" in New Mexico where I decided to write full time. It was here, in Roswell, that I realized the wealth of history in New Mexico and I wrote "To Die In Dinetah, The Dark Legacy of Kit Carson." The success of that book kept me in the western genre.

WW: What inspired you to write?

JT: I felt so comfortable writing western historic fiction that I continued dealing with incidents during the 1800s in New Mexico. After joining Western Writes of America and attending their conventions, rubbing elbows and talking with established western writers, I was hooked on western writing.

WW: Do you have a favorite author and did that author influence you?

JT: I think Elmer Kelton is the greatest! When I started writing western historic fiction, I read all of Elmer's books and marveled at the way he brings his characters to life, even in the first paragraph. I'm still trying to handle my characters the way Elmer does.

WW: What are the titles of the books you have written?

JT: "To Die In Dinetah", "The Dark Legacy of Kit Carson", "Monument In The Storm", "Clay Allison, Legend of Cimarron", "Maximilian's Gold, The Secret of Castle Gap"

WW: Do you do any research for your books?

JT: By the truckload! Before starting to write the story, I research for almost a year, creating a chronology of the subject, listing all important historical figures and incidents.

WW: Have you visited the places you write about?

JT: Yes, every one of them, not only to get the feel of the place, but I can usually find an old timer who can tell me things I wouldn't find in any book. When I visited the Fort Concho Museum and Historic Park in San Angelo, Texas, to research a portion of "Monument In The Storm," the park's staff bent over backwards for me. They even gave me the use of their library, where no tourists are allowed, and I spent the afternoon poring through dozens of books on the fort's history. They also let me use their photocopy machine to make copies from a book on uniforms used in the early days.

WW: What type of writing schedule do you keep?

JT: Although I'm a very scheduled person, I don't think of my writing as being scheduled. I just write. I'm a "morning person," so I usually write from seven (or earlier) in the morning to one or two o'clock in the afternoon, breaking for a quick lunch. If I'm on a roll, I'll eat a sandwich while I write.

WW: Do you have a favorite book among those you have written?

JT: I love them all. But I was so deeply drawn into the life of Clay Allison, even to the point where I knew he was watching over my shoulder while I wrote his death scene, that my favorite book has to be, "Clay Allison, Legend of Cimarron."

WW: What advice would you give to new writers?

JT: Read all the books you can on the genre you're writing about, and do your research. This is especially important when writing historical fiction. Don't get discouraged and don't throw anything away. When the break comes, you might need something you wrote long ago to put into a new book. My files are bulging with research material and my shelves are overflowing with books on western history.

The New York Reception went very well. We had many reviewers on hand, as well as editors, publishers and agents such as:

These are people who have never or only rarely ever attended a WWA function of any sort in the past.

The reviewers made me aware of a problem that confronts New York review editors and that is the shortage of competent reviewers. I was asked to write reviews which I will do. We'll see how far I get.

As for the book signing in Grand Central Station. We certainly met the public from 5 to 7 P.M. during rush hour on Friday. It is truly amazing to watch the flow of people that pass.

Larry Jay Martin sold out all his books in 20 minutes, followed by John Duncklee who sold out QUEST FOR THE EAGLE FEATHER, followed by JoAnn Levy who sold out THEY SAW THE ELEPHANT.

I sold a $26.95 hardcover to a Mexican lady, a man from Australia, a girl from Prague, Chekoslovakia, a man from the Dominican Republic and a couple from California on their way to Europe. Many people who were catching trains and did not have the time to stop, admired our wonderful window display compliments of Kent from Posman Books. Hopefully, they will be back in the future. Others just came in to chat. The public was interested. The experience has convinced me that our western topics will sell if only we can get some viable promotion. I presented my book as the story of the push for individual freedom and the rights and opportunities of the common man and that sells to everybody.

So don't give up hope, western writers.

The American River coursed it's way through the Sacramento Valley for many miles, water rolled and churned over good land. Crowds of people worked the banks so thick it was hard to move from one area to the next. The fever of panning for gold was still prevalent even in the year 1859. Along the Rattlesnake Bar, gold was being found in huge amounts and the miners had staked out their claims, leaving not an inch for any new comers.

Dick Barter, along with his brother and a cousin had come south from Sweet Home, Oregon where they had lived for several years after coming to the United States from Quebec. Dick looked the situation over and realized there was nothing for them to stake a claim on. The only other thing to do was to try working for the men who already had claims on the Rattlesnake Bar. He was positive this was the place he would find his fortune. He hired on with several men doing odd jobs, working very hard but getting hardly any pay.

After a year of hard work, scrimping and not finding any gold that would amount to much, Dick's brother and cousin decided they wanted to head back to Oregon. Dick wouldn't hear of leaving. He voiced it loud and clear that it was here along the Rattlesnake Bar that he would find his big strike and he wasn't going to give up. "Good for you, Rattlesnake Dick," an old man shouted at him. This was a name that Dick would remember and use in future experiences.

In spite of Dick's tenacity, nothing was found that would cause him to become a rich man. Although Dick worked hard with an eye on a big strike at any time, he managed to get a few men mad at him. His fingers worked into their gold pockets and they didn't like it. The men were embittered enough that they pointed a finger at Dick when the Sheriff came around asking questions about several missing cattle from a near by rancher. The men accused Dick of stealing the cattle, but the blame could not be turned into positive fact and the Sheriff could not arrest Dick. However, the pointed finger still burned into the minds of the people and Dick found it hard to get jobs with some of the men.

A year later one of the miners, working the North fork, claimed his mule had been stolen. Dick was convicted on the slight evidence that he had been seen in that area. Dick sat for a few days in jail awaiting a trial. If it hadn't been for a drunk miner telling everyone he had stolen the mule, Dick might have been sentenced.

Feeling very low after sitting in jail, Dick felt his reputation had been ruined and that he could be jailed for any offense. He decided to leave, which was exactly what his brother and cousin had wanted to do for some time.

They left Rattlesnake Bar traveling some 200 miles away to Shasta County. Dick changed his last name to Woods in hopes of leaving behind his identity. For two years things went along smoothly. Dick, his brother and cousin always found just enough gold to support themselves and just enough to keep Dick believing the big strike was about to happen.

They moved on to French Gulch, where they heard the gold was more plentiful. It wasn't long before someone recognized Dick, causing him to feel so uncomfortable that he became outraged that he was thought of as a criminal. If they thought of him like that, then he'd show them how a real outlaw operated. He held up a man at gun point taking $400. Dick pulled the man toward him by his shirt front and growled, "Anyone ask who robbed you, tell them it was Rattlesnake Dick."

Dick's brother and cousin left for Oregon, leaving the raving relative to his unfortunate destiny. Dick found it easy to shove a gun at someone and take money without having to work for it. Life was going to be a lot easier. Dick walked a thin thread of chance getting away with the holdups only because the law was not looking for single holdup men, they were out riding hard for menacing outlaw gangs.

Dick encouraged other disgruntled men to join him. There were plenty of unsavory characters around who would listen to ways of getting easy money. Dick was joined by George Skinner, George's young brother, Cyrus, Big Dolph Newton, Romero and Bill Carter. They pulled small jobs in Placer and the Nevada counties that the law ignored.

Dick felt a new perception about himself. He was what people thought of him and he found it exciting and full filling. They would all know him as Rattlesnake Dick and even fear his name.

Dick took interest in a pack train that hauled large shipments of gold ore out of the Shasta and Trinity Counties. This was to be his big strike. They would hold up that pack train and divide the huge amounts of gold between them.
"That's a hell of a big job," groaned George Skinner. He pointed out to Dick that there was so much heavy gold they'd have a time trying to haul it away.
"Them mules have Wells Fargo brands," Skinner said. "Be stupid for us to use them and get spotted right off."
"So, we'll steal some other mules," Dick said.

Dick and his men rode around investigating the pack trains route. It left Yreka on the first of the month and would be in lonely hill country for an easy take.

When the first of the month came, Dick and his men rode right up to the pack train, leveled their guns at the men in charge and told them they had five minutes to get lost before they started shooting at them. The men ran for their lives much to the amusement of Rattlesnake Dick and his men. They now had the big shipment in their hands. They hauled the gold ore to a hiding place in Redding where they turned the mules with the Wells Fargo brands loose and Dick and Cyrus rode off to steal other mules to haul away the gold.

For several days, George and the other boys sat waiting for Dick and Cyrus to return. George was getting nervous, feeling that the law would be on them soon. He figured Dick should have been back with the mules a few days ago. George instructed the other boys to bury half the gold and split up parts for each man to carry out. They could always come back later for the rest of the shipment. They rode out burdened with gold ore toward the hideout they had agreed upon in Auburn. When George and the others arrived at Auburn, they ran head long into a Wells Fargo posse. Without knowing if the law was after them, George started firing. The return fire resulted in a perfect shot that killed George. He fell out of the saddle and hit the ground hard. Romero also fell from the saddle, wounded, which caused Newton and Carter to surrender immediately.

Newton, and Romero received ten years at Angel Island. Carter told the lawmen where the gold shipment was and led the posse to the burial place. Carter was later released from custody for his service in handing the gold over to the Sheriff.

Dick and Cyrus had been arrested in Placer County for the attempted theft of six mules. When their trial came up, Dick managed to escape leaving Cyrus behind to do a term of four years in the state prison.

Dick, like a wounded lone wolf, drifted around. He fell in with more disagreeable men looking for a good robbery. He formed another group making sure everyone knew it was the Rattlesnake Dick gang and they robbed as they moved around the countryside. His name had become well known with the lawmen and they decided to take him down whenever the opportunity presented itself.

Sheriff George Martin, along with two deputies were easing their horses across the trail in Placer County when they spotted and recognized Dick and his gang loping along near by. Martin waved to his deputies to follow and they put their horses into a hot pursuit toward Dick and his gang. They rode up close to the outlaws with guns drawn.

Dick swung around in the saddle, fired at Sheriff Martin and killed him. Then he turned his gun on the deputies and wounded one. Crutcher, the last deputy fired several shots straight at Dick and his gang as they rode off for cover. Crutcher decided it was useless to try to ride after them. He placed the dead Sheriff across the saddle and helped the wounded deputy to ride to the nearest town. Crutcher believed he had wounded Rattlesnake Dick, although the man did not fall off his horse.

Several days later, the Iowa Stage was running it's route when they noticed a man lying across the trail. The stage driver picked up the dead man and brought him into town, where he was identified as Rattlesnake Dick. Dick didn't have one cent on him when they searched him so they buried him at the County's expense.

Dick Barter's, life ended on a lonely trail, his dreams were never accomplished.

Simone Jules, a curvaceous, beautiful brunette of twenty years surprised the gambling clientele in a San Francisco saloon when she leisurely strolled across the room to sit down at the poker table, scooped up the stack of cards and began shuffling them with her long, slender fingers. Her lazy smile and flirtatious eyes trained on each player as she began dealing. Dressed in a black, long tight formed gown with low, open cleavage, one can imagine that a gambling man's concentration was very difficult that night.

When word spread around San Francisco about a woman gambler, all saloons began hiring women to work their tables. Competition was great and what appeared to captivate the people was soon adapted to all the businesses. Women found new positions waiting for them and if they were smart enough they could easily become rich. The waging men were very agreeable to accept women gamblers. The superstition of no man looking over a card players shoulder was soon forgotten when an attractive lady leaned near.

They called her Madame and Simone played her part well, drawing a huge audience. They came to gamble and they came just to look. She didn't stay long in the small saloon. The business men of the Bella Union hotel set her up to run their roulette wheel with an increase in wages. They knew a good "crowd draw" when they saw one. She operated for some time bringing a good deal of business to the San Francisco gentlemen. Even those who had ignored gambling were drawn in to see the fine lady.

Simone was the first woman card sharp to appear in California. However, she mysteriously vanished. If anyone knew what happened to the lovely woman, their lips were sealed and nothing was ever reported about her.

A stage arrived in Nevada City, California in 1854 with a lovely woman passenger. She stepped down from the stage and immediately caused men to turn to look. She wore a tight formed gown that smoothed over her shapely body. Her dark hair glistened in the sun under a tiny hat. Her lazy smile and bright eyes tempted a good many men strolling near. The stage driver was only too glad to haul her luggage into the hotel. She signed her name at the hotel desk as Eleanore Dumont and was issued a room. Her baggage was brought up to her by a smiling attendant. Her French accent, her long lovely hands could not cover over that this was the missing Simone Jules. She had the new habit of rolling her own cigarettes and smoking in public. She fancied wines over hard liquor. She would stroll along the boardwalk with an umbrella to cover the sun from her face. If she was approached by men, she would turn them away with such dignity that even an aggressive man would recoil.

It wasn't long before Eleanore began to invite certain men to her room. Men were very surprised to find she hadn't invited one man, she invited three at the same time. They were even further surprised to find out why she invited them. The exciting lady had a game of cards to offer. She insisted her men take off their hats, leave on their jackets, not to swear and not to fight. They were highly amused and curious until they found their money didn't last long. Even at that, to the men, it was worth the price just to sit down to a game of cards with such a woman. Men flocked to her room and there were no hard feelings when they lost their money. Her very manner of being a grand woman accomplished more than all the saloon bouncers. She kept a cool, calm game.

Eleanore eventually had enough money to open a large establishment of her own. She hired help and her business prospered. She drew large crowds of gambling men who found it a grand place to have your money taken. The fact that women were so scarce in the mining fields and towns made it a pleasure to have tried to win against the lovely woman. She captivated her gamblers for a good two years, then in 1856, Nevada City's gold ran out. The mines began to close and the miners moved on along with many of the well established businesses who depended upon the gold. Eleanore moved on to other areas of California. She went to Nevada, Idaho, South Dakota and Montana. However, she never found the royal acceptance she had at Nevada City.

From her travels and probably from losses, Eleanore's beauty began to fade. She put on weight and neglected her demure characteristics. She became terribly concerned about the light hairs across her lip. They had started to darken. She tried all types of makeup to cover it but nothing worked. She was growing a mustache.

In 1860, Eleanore began drinking whiskey and mouthing raw jokes to her men gamblers. All of her refined attitude was gone. She also succumbed to sleeping with some of the richer gamblers to get more money. The hair line across her lip, which so embarrassed her caused her to receive the nickname of Madame Mustache. If she knew she had that name she never said anything.

At age 40, Eleanore was operating her own saloon and brothel in Fort Benton, Montana near the upper section of the Missouri River. She had several prostitutes working for her who gave her a percentage of their take. She hired a bar tender and a man to keep things clean. Eleanor took care of the gambling operation. She kept moving in as high a style as she could manage. It was never the style she had hoped for.

Possibly, Eleanore heard about the big gold strike in Bodie, California because she left Montana for the notorious city in 1879. She opened a small gambling house on one of the main streets. However, Eleanore's luck had frozen over. Several professional gamblers beat her hand at cards and she went broke. For the first time, men gamblers had broken the charm of the once lovely lady.

Just before dark, the townsmen saw Eleanore stroll down the street out of town. They never saw her come back. The next day's newspaper ran a small item: A woman was found dead, a mile out of town. An apparent suicide, she was identified as Eleanore Dumont, who was well known in Bodie. Simone Jules, Eleanore Dumont or Madame Mustache was 50 years old when she ended her own life. Little did she know, or perhaps did anyone else, that she set a president of being the first woman gambler that opened new prospects for other women.

That's it for this month, partners. We hope you have enjoyed this month's issue. Thanks so much to all those who contributed articles.

Until next month .........

Jack & Marge