Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1903-07-24
A BAD MANS FINISH.
How Jim CrandaIl Killed Too Many
Cinnamon in Tucson.
[From the Washington Start

i've met uu with a lot of bad men,
some of whose annals have kept the
scrbesmen of the western states busy,
but the hardest man l ever saw was
grubstake fellow l met up with about
dozen times while | was assigned to the
Navajo and Moqui tribes" said an in
spector of Indian agencies. " He lived
in Tucson when he wasn't up in the
Santa Anita mountains looking for pay
dust, and for several years he was the
chief contributor of inert subjects to that
little white cemetery that lies to the
west of the town, more or less covered
with yellow sand. His name was Jim
Crandall. Jim was six feet six inches in
stature, and he weighed $50 pounds.
Every pound that he had on him was
bear meat-that is to say. his life in the
mountains after the quartz, kept him
down to the minute.
But Jim never used his strength eX-
cept to show off. | suppose there was
not a man in the Southwest that could
have COPIED with him in a straightout
match of strength, but he always leaned
to the Bowie and the gun in close quar-
ters so that none of his victims ever had
a chance to feel the clasp of his gorilla
arms. Sober, Jim was as mild a man as
ever slit an oesophagus, but when he got
about four rounds of juniper juice in
him he was a worse terror than a desert
mirage to the sand Indians. Before |
met him he had slaughtered seven men,
five of them in straight gun fights and
two in knife plays. and he had always
contrived to duck the law and make a
getaway on the ground of self-defense,
which is certainly main ground down
in the Southwest territories.
" It's a thing | don't like to mention,
but | happened to be with Crandall on
the night he made his lose-out. He had
just got back from old Mexico, where he
had been doing "A dodge-out for a year
after killing Buck Evans the marshal of
| Tucson. and at the supper hour that
met him he was in several fashions dan
gerous. But he had acquired a habit in
previous meetings of leaning upon me
| reed to lean upon-and so l didn't care
| how he acted long as he kept within
| the bounds of reason. We went to a
| Chink feed outfit and ordered a stack OF
birds nests-which used to mean in the
Southwest steak smothered in onions
| and French fried potatoes-and | adj
| dressed myself to the task of trying tc
| clip some of the feathers off of Jim's
| paradise-bird stories of the Santa Anita
mountains.
Il was just telling Crandall that hC
was rough and uncouth and that he wore
| too many guns on his person to suit my
| cithed, civilized game, when Jim-th'
|
| ging along inside of him-looked up.
| 60 Jimmy. he said to me, I've got {
| big kill on, and | hate Chinks,' and JUS
then the two assistants of the Chimes,
| proprietor of the restaurant walked in
slidingly, with their soft sandals.
- Let 'em CO.. ] said to Crandall wher
| saw him going for his guns, They're
only parasites, and what do you care?'
-" This much said Jim, Just as thu
| two soft footed Cinnamon were passing
| into the kitchen.
" He pulled both of his guns out, anC
bawled stand still!" to the two China
men. They both came to a halt RICH
abatt the kitchen.
9" You likee die?' said Crandall. then t.
the two Chinese, and without a furthe
word, he plugged both of them through
the heart.
THE Tucson vigilence outfit got jim
about 10 minutes later, and he made tn
most horrible fight for his life that
ever witnessed. But San Francisco
doctor has Jim's bones nova docto
with whom l am on terms-and ever
time that | go out to the Gate he give
me a peek at Crandall's dried skull an
says, Aren't you glad you are good?'