by Joe Corso
“One more, Kid. Ready?”
The Kid shook his head. “Hold on a minute, Ned, while I reload the guns.”
Ned waited patiently, while swaying a little. It seemed that he had taken copious nips of a bottle he had with him and was now feeling its effects.
“Ready, Ned.” Buntline threw the coin high in the air and it surprised the Kid because he thought it would be another billiard ball. Everyone in the audience held their breath as the spinning coin flew upward until it finally crested and began its downward spiral. BANG!
The coin flew back up in the air, much to the delight of the people watching. When Ned was handed the coin, he noticed that the Kid got lucky because he just nicked the edge of the coin. The Kid holstered his new nickel-plated ivory-handled Colts.
Boss Tweed led the two men across Central Park to their waiting carriage. “That was some exhibition you put on back there, Kid. If I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it.”
Buntline looked at Tweed. “That’s exactly what I told him when he gunned down those two desperadoes before I could clear my holster.”
Tweed looked at Buntline with a lot more respect. “You mean the gunfight you described in your book actually happened?”
Buntline slapped Tweed on the shoulder, but Charlie thought he did it more to steady himself than to acknowledge what Tweed had said. “It happened exactly the way I wrote it. In fact, that gunfight gave me the inspiration to write the book about the Kid and you have to agree, he’s everything I said he was.” Buntline stopped Tweed and faced him. “Say, you are coming to the opening of our show tomorrow night, aren’t you?”
Tweed smiled. He liked these boys. “Boys . . . I wouldn’t miss your show for all the tea in China.”
When the two men reached their coach, they were surprised to see that it was occupied. Buntline looked confused. “I thought this was our carriage, Bill?”
“Relax, Ned. It is your carriage, but Ms. Bernhardt wanted you to give her a lift to her hotel.”
Charlie smiled inwardly. So that’s who the fine lady was. Sarah Bernhardt, the actress whose play they had gone to see last night.
“You coming with us, Bill?”
Tweed shook his head. “I have my own coach, but I’ll see you boys tomorrow night. Buntline was about to step into the carriage, but thought better of it. Instead, he asked Tweed to hold on a minute. “Could you drop me off at my hotel, Bill? I don’t feel up to going out with the Kid tonight.”
“Sure, Ned, I have plenty of room. Besides, I think the Kid would like a few moments alone with Ms. Bernhardt.”
Buntline looked at the Kid through red-rimmed blurry eyes and agreed. The Kid had to laugh, watching as Ned leaned on Bill for support as they stepped into Tweed’s coach.
Charlie sat opposite the actress and he thought he could see a Mona Lisa smile on her face. Was she smiling or was it his imagination? Charlie broke the silence first. “I was surprised to see you this afternoon, Ms. Bernhardt. Do you like guns?”
She pouted. “Not at all; as a matter of fact I hate guns.”
“So why did you come to see me shoot today?”
“That’s a fair question, Mr. Longstreet. The fact is - you interest me. I have never met a man quite like you, and believe me, I have met a lot of men all over the world.” She was silent a moment and Charlie decided not to interrupt her thoughts. “I read the book Buntline wrote about you. Was any of that true?”
Charlie was embarrassed by the question and he looked sheepishly back at her. Then he shrugged, “You know how sometimes things are said about you that may or may not have happened, but to be fair to Ned, much of what he said in the book was true. He just embellished it a bit. Let’s not talk about me. Let’s talk about you. I came to your show last night.”
“Oh,” she said, acting as though she hadn’t known that he was in the audience. “Really?”
“Yep, and that’s a fact.”
She enjoyed his innocence. He may be a desperado, but he was sweet and he was honest, the two traits she liked in a man. “And did you like the show?”
“No,” he said, which hurt her, although she didn’t show it. She wasn’t used to such honesty. But he added, “I really loved your performance. I thought you were great.” Then he leaned closer to her as if he were imparting a great secret. “You know. I never seen a stage show before where someone playacted in front of a lot of people. And I thought you were wonderful, just wonderful.” She was touched because she knew that he really meant it and wasn’t complimenting her just to gain her favor. “I hear that your show is opening tomorrow night at the Bowery Theater.”
“Yeah,” he said, fidgeting with his hands. “I’m a little nervous about standing up there on the stage in front of all those people and not knowing what to say.”
She reached over and took his hands in hers. “Listen, your manager booked your act in the right theater because it caters to the working class where they present action-packed spectacles and your act will fit in perfectly. Let me give you a little advice, Charles.”
Wow, he thought. She called him “Charles.” She lifted his face with one of her dainty hands so she could look him directly in the eye. “The important thing is once you’re alone on the stage, forget there are people sitting in the audience looking at you. Just be yourself and act natural. Speak your lines as if you are speaking them to me - or to Ned. Talk natural like you’re talking to me right here in the carriage, and if you forget a line then just say whatever comes to your mind. People will love it. They know that you’re not a professional actor, and they’ll come to see your show because it’s you they came to see. Even if you stood on that stage and said nothing at all, they would love it. So don’t worry about tomorrow night. Picture me in front of you and say your lines to me and you’ll do just fine.”
“Thanks, Ms. Bernhardt. I really appreciate the advice.” She looked at him sadly. She didn’t want the night to end or for him to ride away, but she was too much of a lady to ask him to stay. If only he would ask her out for a drink, then she would manage it from there. He turned to leave, then stopped. Her heart beat a little faster as he turned to her. “It’s still early. Would you like to go for a drink somewhere?”
She smiled demurely. “I know just the place.”
CHAPTER 27
The Kid peeked through the curtains and looked out at a packed house. “Good God, Ned, would you look at all those people out there? What in hell do they expect to see tonight?”
“Don’t worry about them, Kid. Just go out and say your lines the way we rehearsed them.”
“Ned, maybe we should call this whole thing off. I can’t remember a damned thing.”
“Don’t think like that, Kid. Look, I’m going to go out there and begin the show. I’ll talk for a while and tell the audience some of your adventures. After I finish softening the audience up, I’ll introduce you and then I’ll tell the audience what’s about to happen. I learned a long time ago, Kid, that when you give a lecture, you tell the audience what you are going to say, then say it and then you tell them what you said. That is exactly what we’re going to do tonight. I’ll tell them about you and let them in on what you are going to do, then you’ll do it and when the play is finished, I’ll tell them what they saw and that’s how simple it is.”
The Kid had doubt in his eyes and he looked at Ned questioningly. “I don’t know how this is going to work out, Ned, but I’ll do it.”
Buntline let his breath out. “That’s great, Kid. Okay now, the red light just went on. In sixty seconds, the green light will light up and that’ll be my signal to get the show started.
The green light flashed and Ned stepped out from behind the curtains to thunderous applause. Ned told a long drawn-out story of how the Kid and he fought three desperados in the town of Lone Jack and you could hear a pin drop as the audience held its collective breath. Then, Ned said in his most serious voice, “Ladies and gentlemen, this is exactly the way it happened.” The
lights dimmed, the curtain opened, and there stood Buntline with John Sturman holding a gun to his ribs. The scene played out the way Buntline wrote it and the Kid was relaxed in the role simply because he didn’t have to say a word; he just had to use his gun. Charlie didn’t tell Buntline, but instead of fake bullets in his guns, he only placed the fake bullets in his shoulder holster. His sidearm held real bullets. After the act was over, the audience stood and clapped for five whole minutes. Then it came time for the Kid’s monologue. Buntline settled himself in the orchestra pit with all of the Kid’s cue cards. Buntline had them placed in the proper order, but Charlie had a problem reading the cards because of the lights. He stared for a minute, trying to read the cards, but finally gave up. He motioned for Ned to come onto the stage and ask him questions. Ned was taken by surprise by the Kid’s request, but being the professional he was, he bounded onto the stage and took a position about six feet from the Kid.
Ned looked at the Kid, who nodded back at him, and Buntline began to ask his questions. The audience, thinking this was part of the show, watched with rapt attention. “So, Kid, what did you do with yourself now that you are in New York?” Buntline waved his hands skyward to emphasize the grandeur of New York.
The Kid smiled, not knowing what to say because he forgot his lines, but he was reminded of what Sarah Bernhardt had told him, so he began saying whatever came to his mind. The Kid looked down at the audience and said, “Why, I went shooting today.”
Buntline picked up on it. “That must have been wonderful, Kid. Who did you go shooting with?” The Kid put his hand over his eyes, trying to see who was in the audience and apparently spotted the person he was searching for. He pointed down at the second row. “Why, I went shooting with the grand Mayor of New York City, the greatest city in the world - the honorable John T. Hoffman.” Hoffman stood and waved to the audience and then pointed at the Kid and clapped before sitting down again. The audience applauded without stopping until Buntline raised his arms and asked for quiet.
Then Buntline, being the showman he was, started asking the Kid questions with a serious tremor to his voice. “Who else was with you boys when you went shooting, Kid?”
The Kid pointed to Boss Tweed. “Why, none other than that great leader of Tammany Hall, William Magear Tweed.” The crowd roared once again when the Kid mentioned Tweed’s name and that pleased Tweed more that any of his illegally gotten gains could ever have pleased him. The audience erupted once again with applause.
There was one more act that the Kid had to do, and then the play would be over. The curtains opened to show the Kid standing at the bar. Then three taps could be heard coming from the other side of the stage. The audience knew the Kid was being challenged by someone looking to make a name for himself by killing the Kid. This scene alone told the audience what the Kid had been up against and when he left New York, he would be facing that danger again, for how many times, no one knew. The act proceeded with the Kid and his challenger going for their guns. The Kid beat the stranger to the draw and killed him, shooting him with fake bullets. The Kid spun his gun fancy-like into his holster, but the show wasn’t over because the Kid pulled his other gun that contained real bullets, spun around into a shooting crouch and opened up on a line of bottles sitting on the bar, which stunned the audience and took Buntline completely by surprise as this was not part of the script. But the effect was startling and his accuracy in hitting the bottles deadly. The audience, again thinking that this was a part of the show, applauded until the curtain came down.
Buntline wiped his brow, then separated the curtains and stepped out onto the stage. He closed the show by informing the audience that his two books about The Adventures of The Lone Jack Kid were on sale in the lobby. And his third book on the Kid was in the process of being published and would be on newsstands soon.
The show ran for six months and Buntline used what worked from the first show. Every evening, Ned would take note of the famous or distinguished people or anyone of note in the audience and wrote their names in his pad for the Kid to mention in his act.
One night, when Buntline asked the Kid the question on what he did today, the Kid responded by saying. “Why I went shooting today in Central Park.”
“Really?” Buntline said. “What was it that you went shooting with.”
The Kid made a dramatic motion toward the audience. “Why, I went shooting with the greatest newspaper man in the world, James Gordon Bennett Jr. And there he is in the third row.” Everyone clapped and asked Bennett to stand up and take a bow. Then Bennett did something unusual. Before he sat back down, he saluted the Kid with a wave of his hand, which brought the audience to their feet.
During the first show when the Kid shot the bottles off of the bar, it took Buntline by surprise, but although it was unexpected, he kept it in the act because the Kid fired real bullets and the audience thought it was all part of the show and they loved it.
Money kept rolling in from ticket sales and from sales of books and memorabilia. Everyone wanted a piece of the famous Lone Jack Kid. One evening after the show, while the Kid was taking his makeup off, someone knocked on his door. “Come in,” he bellowed. The door opened and to his surprise in walked the Youngers and the James Brothers. Charlie jumped up from his chair and embraced the lot of them. “What in hell are you guys doing in New York City?”
Cole shrugged his shoulders. “It was getting kind of hot back in Missouri and we’ve been following your adventures in the local papers, so we decided to visit New York until things cooled off back home. While we were here, we decided to take in your show and then when it was over, we’d pay you a visit backstage.”
Charlie grinned. “This sure beats robbing banks. You fellas should get into this game.”
Jesse shook his head. “Are you kidding me? I won’t make a fool out of myself by play acting on a stage.”
Charlie looked at Cole. “Hey, Cole, how about playing yourself in the next show? You won’t have to say anything--just shoot your gun. But, Cole, you’d have to use fake bullets ‘cause we don’t want you to kill an actor now, do we?”
Cole shook his head and waved his hands defensively. “No. You’re not gonna get me on a stage in front of all those people.”
“Come on, Cole, do it for me. I’d love to have you with me on that stage. I’d be more relaxed knowing I had you there alongside of me.” Cole vacillated for a moment and Charlie knew he’d do it. “Come on, Cole. Don’t let a pal down. I need you with me for the next show. I promise you won’t have to do anything but pull your gun and shoot fake bullets.”
“You sure that’s all I’d have to do?”
“I promise.”
“All right then. I’ll do it, but you owe me one.”
The next show went off perfectly, especially the part where Cole joined the Kid and Buntline in shooting the three desperadoes. Cole took his part seriously and when he drew his gun and fired it, he acted as if he was in a real gunfight and the audience picked up on it. When the show was over and Buntline introduced the actors, he told the audience that one man wouldn’t come onto the stage to be recognized. That person was in the first scene where the Kid, Buntline, and Cole Younger faced the three gunslingers. The man who wouldn’t come out was none other than Cole Younger himself. For this one show only, he replaced the actor who played him. The audience was abuzz with the news that they had witnessed the real Cole Younger shooting and acting in this play.
When the Kid was introduced, it was to a standing ovation. He raised his hands for the audience to quiet down, then he spoke to them. “Yes, that was Cole Younger himself. He’s here with his brother Bob and some other friends of mine.
Someone yelled out from the audience. “Who are those other friends, Kid?”
Charlie didn’t say anything for a moment, not knowing if he should mention the others. He looked at Buntline for support and received a slight nod of his head. “My other friends are Frank and Jesse James, who are backstage waiting for me to finish this
show so we can leave here and howl at the moon.”
Instead of applause, there wasn’t a sound coming from the audience. Charlie wondered if he did or said something wrong, but to his credit, he took the bull by the horns and spoke to the audience. “Folks. These men are my friends. In the War Between the States, they fought beside me. Cole and Jesse came out west and helped me when men were looking to kill me and I don’t turn my back on my friends, nor do I apologize for them.” Charlie turned and was about to leave when the audience broke out in applause and shouted for him to remain on stage.
“Bring your friends out, Kid. Your friends are our friends. Come on, bring your friends out so we can meet them.” The Kid looked off stage and motioned for his friends to walk on stage with him. Cole walked out with Bob following. Then Frank walked slowly out while Jesse hesitated for a moment and then followed the others. Never let it be said that Jesse James was afraid of anything, not even being on a stage with a room full of people.
“This is Cole and Bob Younger and these two are the James brothers, Jesse and Frank.”
The audience, as well as the entire country, had read of the exploits of the James/Younger gang and for a moment, they were speechless. Then they burst into applause for the Kid’s friends. The two brother teams were uncomfortable on the stage because they couldn’t see past the lights - and old habits die hard. They were nervous, thinking that enemies of theirs could ambush them, which Charlie was quick to assure them that this wasn’t the case and could never happen. The men lingered on the stage for a few minutes longer, then they took off their Stetsons and waved goodbye to the audience. It was a fitting end to the Kid’s stage career.
