The Long Journey Home

by Don Coldsmith

  Always a promoter and skilled as advance man for the show, Arlington decided to capitalize on their misfortunes. His press releases engendered sympathy, and the public turned out in record numbers. Extra shows were added to an already full schedule.

  Horse traders understood their urgent need for replacement stock and scoured the continent to be of help. Of course, with Yankee dollars in view, even Billy Lorette found a small mule for his clown act. The 101 Wild West Show was back in business for the South American schedule. The whirlwhind tour became one of their best, several times performing three shows a day.

  January 1914 …

  Zack Miller sat on a hilltop outside Presidio, Texas, watching activity across the Rio Grande. He had been on a buying trip, and was waiting to take delivery on a herd of mules. He had negotiated the purchase, amounting to several thousand dollars, and was to accept delivery from Ojinaga, Mexico, to Presidio, where the mules would be shipped by rail to the 101 in Oklahoma.

  But, as often where the Millers were concerned, outside events had intervened. There was a revolution in progress in Mexico. Above all else, Zack Miller was flexible. He had long ago learned that in such a conflict, there was money to be made. One of his first such coups had been more than a decade earlier, in California. Starting with a small stake, he had bought, sold, and traded mules. Britain was engaged in the prolonged and costly Boer War, and her demand for mules provided a market for Zack Miller’s acquisitions.

  This had convinced the horse trader in him. Where there was a war—anywhere—there would be a demand for horses and mules. The other Miller brothers, while horse traders in their own right, were more content with ranching, raising livestock and crops, and with showmanship. They, too, enjoyed the stimulation of a good horse trade, but Zack was the undisputed negotiator of the big trading deals. He had set up the purchase and supply lines for supplying the thousands of horses which they had shipped to the Greek Army in 1913 for their war in the Balkans.

  In all of this, he had learned patience. This war in Mexico was interfering with the delivery of his mules. But where there was a war, there might be a profit to be made. So he sat on the hill outside Presidio, watching the battle across the river near Ojinaga.

  The rebel forces were led by Doroteo Arango, who would go down in history as “Pancho Villa.” He, too, had a flair for showmanship and had set up this campaign for maximum publicity. He had actually negotiated a contract for movie rights to this battle with Mutual Films, agreeing to fight only during daylight hours for film purposes. All battle plans were to be available to the film company. This could not have happened, of course, except that the rebel forces were in virtually complete control of the situation.

  Crowds of newspaper reporters had descended on Presidio, observing and reporting the battle’s progress from the safety of the bluffs on the United States side of the Rio Grande. The Villistas were pushing the government troops hard, shelling the retreating columns. Many of the Mexican troops had with them an assortment of camp followers, personal belongings, families, and even pets. Even Zack Miller, with his broad exposure to the seamy side of the world, was appalled at the suffering.

  “The screams of the wounded and dying,” he later described to a biographer, “were sharp and shrill against the rattle and thunder of the Villista gun-fire.”

  Refugees began to stream across the river, attempting to surrender to American authorities to save them from the rebels. Within ten days, the Mexican town of Ojinaga had fallen to Pancho Villa’s troops.

  U.S. Army Colonel John J. Pershing, assigned to defend American interests, asked and received permission to confer with rebel leaders in the captured territory. Since the United States was not involved in the war, the situation was delicate. Pershing could not actually accept the surrender of Mexican troops, but announced his intention to shelter refugees on the American side of the river. This met with the approval of Villa, and the conference was cordial.

  Refugee camps were set up along the road north out of Presidio. Several thousand defeated soldiers and their equipment, including weapons, horses, and mules, were scattered along the route. Their status was questionable. Their equipment could not be classified as “spoils of war” because it was in neutral territory. Already, in the freezing weather with no fuel available, the refugees were beginning to burn their military saddles to survive.

  Zack Miller had little use for Mexican military saddles or abandoned arms, but realized something else. Each of those saddles had been worn by a horse that had crossed the river. A quick estimate suggested that there must be at least 3,000 horses in limbo, not counting wagon mules, which might number hundreds more. He quickly dispatched a telegram to the Mexican consulate in San Antonio, offering to buy all the livestock and equipment, and bidding $45,000 to complete the deal. He then sent a second telegram, this time to his brother Joe back in Bliss, Oklahoma.

  “Yes, sir. You sent for me?” asked John Buffalo as he entered Joe Miller’s office.

  “Yes, John. I want you to go with me to Texas. Any objections?”

  Miller seemed to be organizing quickly, preparing to leave.

  “Right now?”

  “Yes. As soon as we can get to town.”

  He was tossing some papers into a briefcase.

  “Here … read this,” he said, handing a John a telegram.

  COME AT ONCE HAVE BANK GIVE ME FORTY FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS CREDIT OR BRING THAT MUCH IN GOLD GOT A HELL OF A BIG DEAL ON

  ZACK

  “I need somebody I can trust.” Joe Miller stated, as he stuffed a few more papers into the case and buckled it shut. “I don’t know what this deal of Zack’s may be, but we’ll see. Go get your stuff together. We have to get to the bank at Ponca. There should be a train outa there.”

  Why me? John wondered as he hurried to the bunkhouse to toss a few things together.

  His question was partly answered on the way to Ponca City in the buggy. The fast team covered the distance in a hurry, as Joe rambled, half to himself.

  “Zack’s probably got some deal goin’ that involves livestock,” he pondered. “But it must be sorta tricky. He’s dealin’ with people, money, and livestock … . He wants me to bring it, not send it … . He’s in Presidio, right on the border, so that maybe involves Mexican traders. I know he was buyin’ some mules to bring across the border, but this must be a bigger deal. I don’t know what he’ll need, but you can handle livestock, you can talk to folks, and you come across as pretty honest to people you meet.”

  He was quiet for a moment, and then ended the conversation with a short statement.

  “Vern and Ed Arlington said you did a good job in Germany.”

  John was honored at this display of trust.

  “I’ll try, sir.”

  At the bank in Ponca City, Joe negotiated the necessary bank draft, and they hurried to the depot to catch the next train south.

  Meanwhile, Zack continued to walk the thin ice of international intrigue. He had no use for the thousands of weapons and uniforms that were now stacked in piles along the highway to Marfa, Texas, north of Presidio. Joe would be of help with dealing with the myriad of inspectors, customs agents, and minor officials, as well as the Mexican consulate.

  One threat was a duty charge of $3.50 per head on livestock crossing the border. This would amount to a considerable cost for the thousands of Mexican cavalry horses which had already crossed the border before the negotiations transferred ownership.

  “Maybe Will Bryan can help us,” Joe suggested.

  They wired their friend, William Jennings Bryan, in Washington, now President Wilson’s Secretary of State. Bryan telegraphed the U.S. Customs office in Presidio and ordered waiver of the usual fees in the interests of relations with Mexico.

  There was a final coup in Zack Miller’s complicated venture into international affairs, and his major purchase of a defeated army’s property. He sold the equipment, uniforms, and weaponry piled along the retreat route out of Mexico back to the Mexican
government, even as they loaded horses into boxcars for shipment to the Hundred and One.

  But every rose has its thorns. Only a short time later, in the bitter January of 1914, White Eagle, chief of the Poncas and friend of the Millers, died of pneumonia after prolonged exposure as he walked home from the Agency. Joe Miller, especially, was stricken with grief. He recalled a childhood among the Poncas, neighbors to the Millers, and had always had good relations with the Indians. He was sometimes jokingly referred to as the “white chief of the Poncas.”

  There was a marked disagreement about the burial of the venerable chieftain. Christian missionaries on the reservation demanded a “Christian” burial. The Poncas, equally determined, wished for their fallen leader a traditional “crossing-over.”

  A compromise of sorts was agreed upon: A wooden coffin, containing the body of White Eagle, dressed in his finery of soft buckskin and intricate regalia, his proud face painted for the crossing. The Poncas bored a hole in the lid of the coffin, through which his spirit could cross over. Burial was on a ridge overlooking the bluestem prairie, the traditional burial ground of White Eagle’s people. His grave was covered with offerings of food for his journey, and his favorite horse was strangled nearby to provide transportation to the Other Side. Horse Chief Eagle, son of White Eagle and successor to the old leader, led the days of prayer, dancing, and feasting in his father’s honor. Many of their friends from the 101 Ranch were in attendance.

  It was a hard time for the Millers, who had lost a friend. Some years later, they erected a limestone monument on the ridge to honor their old comrade, White Eagle.

  This year of 1914 was already off to a bizarre start that would be eclipsed by coming events.

  In the midst of all this, John learned that some time earlier, Jim Thorpe’s accomplishments at Stockholm had been declared ineligible. It was demanded that his medals, on display at Carlisle, be returned to the Olympic Committee. Thorpe had been disqualified, classed as a professional athlete because of having his expenses paid while playing summer baseball in South Carolina.

  FORTY-FOUR

  The 1914 season began with a three-week stint at Madison Square Garden, with daily shows. The great Barnum and Bailey Circus had closed there only days before, after a successful run.

  The Hundred and One boasted an influx of new performers, including some of Buffalo Bill’s headliners. There was also a rugged young soldier, just mustered out of the army, who had wandered into the show at Texas City in October and applied for a job. His name was Charles Gebhart, and he had proved his skill with a rope, on a horse, and as a sharpshooter. He would later become famous as cowboy actor Buck Jones.

  The public had more interest in the 101 cowgirls. They became known as the “Oklahoma Cowgirls,” astounding audiences with their riding, roping, and shooting. The Millers were determined that their female performers would appear “wholesome,” and there were strict rules as to dress and costuming. They were not allowed to wear rouge or lipstick in public.

  Inspired by the successes of 1913, in the face of adversity, the Millers elected to take a bold step: They would split the Wild West Show, sending the second unit to England and Europe for the season.

  Many of the crowd-pleasing headliners were booked for England. Zack Miller himself would lead this second unit, including Bill Pickett, Milt Hinkle, Hank Durell, now fully recovered from smallpox, George Hooker, and top cowgirls Ruth Roach, Mabel Cline, Lucille Mann, and Dot Vernon. Zack borrowed Joe’s fancy parade saddle for the tour.

  Although not as large as the main show, the European contingent included a cowboy band, a mule caravan, bucking broncs, longhorn cattle, and buffalo. To emphasize the international flavor, there were not only Mexican vaqueros, but Cossacks, under Prince Lucca of Russia. There were sixty-five Indians, mostly Oglala Sioux. In addition to the Wild West acts, there was a demonstration blending the modern age into the Old West, with souped-up automobiles playing “motor-polo.” A matinee and an evening performance were to be held daily through the summer months at the venerable Shepherd’s Bush Stadium at London, newly renovated for the occasion.

  “John, I’d like to have you in the second unit, the one goin’ to England,” Zack Miller told him. “You were a big help with Wayne Beasley, settlin’ the Oglalas down in Germany last year. Most of them are goin’ with us, so I guess they felt treated purty good. You got no problems with a summer over there?”

  John had anticipated that this might be the case, and had given it a considerable amount of thought. Hebbie remained a major concern in the back of his mind, but he had heard nothing. Even with the far-flung influence of the Millers, there had been no word, no clue where she might be. It was as if she had dropped off the face of the earth, or as if she had never been. He thought of the dream or vision on board the ill-fated S.S. Varsara. Maybe Hebbie herself had been only a beautiful dream all along … . No, that could not be … . there was too much about her that was warm and human: her laugh, the little crinkles around her eyes when she smiled … .

  He shook his head to clear it. It would do no good to try to build his life around the slim possibility that she might try to locate him. She was undoubtedly using a different name, which was preventing success in his inquiries. If and when she wished to find him, she would. Their base in common was the 101 Ranch, and she would start there. But there was no point in staying at the home ranch, or even in the States. He could be located.

  “Yes, sir, I’d be glad to go,” he told Zack Miller.

  “Good! I figured so. Now, we may subcontract the Oglalas to the German outfit again for a while. You were a big help over there. Well, we cross that bridge when we get to it.”

  Despite misgivings on the part of some of those who had been on the Varsara, the crossing was accomplished with no trouble. The troupe was welcomed to London with such enthusiasm as they’d never experienced. From the first, they were accepted and cheered by the public, and Shepherd’s Bush was packed twice daily.

  John happened by the chutes one morning to encounter Pickett, leaning on the fence, quietly watching a couple of strange animals. They were light brown, about the size of cattle, with slender horns, and covered with long, shaggy hair. New and exotic animals were nothing unusual around the 101. Zack must have made another deal of some sort.

  “What the hell are them?” John asked.

  “Them,” replied Pickett, “are Scotch cattle.”

  “Cattle?

  “So they say. ‘Highlanders,’ somebody called ’em.”

  “What are we doin’ with ’em?”

  Even as he voiced it, John realized that it was a foolish question. Zack Miller didn’t need a purpose for anything new and unusual. If he didn’t have one, he’d find one. But these …

  “Reckon ah’m gonna bulldog ’em,” said Pickett.

  And he did, further delighting the crowds. Bill Pickett became a favorite with the British, and his steer-wrestling act became the high point of every performance.

  Pleased with their acceptance, Zack leased a mansion on Holland Road, complete with servants and housekeeping staff. He had brought his daughter, Virginia, who was enthralled with the entire British scene. Not only Zack and his daughter, but many of the performers, were wined and dined by British nobility, with chauffeured automobiles and receptions in their honor. Sir Thomas Lipton, the tea magnate, merchant, and philanthropist, entertained on board his private yacht. The Earl of Lonsdale hosted receptions. Lord Robert Baden-Powell, founder of the Boy Scout movement, attended the shows. The Wild West shows were attended by not only nobility, but by the royal family. King George V and Queen Mary were enthralled, and it was said that the King became so excited that he began to cheer like a commoner, and was reprimanded by the Queen. Virginia, Zack’s daughter, presented the royal couple with flowers and curtsied before the royal boxes, pleasing not only the “Royals” but the crowd.

  It was customary for the royal couple to leave any event early to avoid the crowds, but King George remained until th
e last dust had settled. He then stationed himself at the main gate, where he officially received the performers, repeating “Most wonderful exhibition! Most wonderful exhibition!” again and again.

  It was whispered that His Majesty had never before stayed until the end of any event.

  There were, of course, a few problems. A few times in the States the show had been ostracized by humane societies for mistreatment of animals. This was a growing problem for people handling livestock. At what point does restraint become inhumane?

  In this case, Bill Pickett’s use of his teeth was protested. There was a list of lesser offenses involving the handling of horses by the hostlers. Ultimately, the London Humane Society persuaded the authorities to arrest Pickett. A hue and cry arose from Pickett’s fans, and Zack Miller decided to take advantage of the backlash. He paid Pickett’s fine of a few shillings and negotiated a bargain with the authorities. They would charge Pickett each week, and Miller would pay his fine while Pickett continued his act. Between the indignant radical press with their slanderous accusations and the indignant fans of the Dusky Demon, enough publicity was generated to make Pickett a celebrity in his own right. The Earl of Lonsdale threw a huge dinner party in Pickett’s honor at his ancestral castle.

  The royal family continued to patronize the show. Queen Mother Alexandra and her sister, Dowager Empress Marie of Russia, attended a performance with their entourage of European royalty, cheering their Cossacks as well as the cowboys. Queen Alexandra, an amateur photographer, took innumerable photos. This royal party had been transported in four motorcars to Shepherd’s Bush.

  Ironically, only two days later, that an incident occurred in another part of Europe that would plunge the world into flame. It would affect the lives of everyone, including the performers of the 101 Wild West Show. On June 28, Austrian Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife, Duchess Sophie of Hohenberg, were assassinated. As their motor car drove through the town of Sarajevo in Bosnia, Garrilo Princip, a Serbian nationalist, gunned them down. This ignited a tense situation that had been building for years, and would become the “Great War.”