Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1907-05-03
BRICkY BARR.
A Western Fiddler who Was a Terror
to Bad Men.

special orchestra accompanying dra-
matte production which recently Wis
tied Washington, told at the Garrick
club a curious story about violin pu-
pill he once had.
1T was at Wichita, Kan, where
was teaching in the early sos, that
got hold Of this pupil" he said. HE
was a plasterer. Don't laugh when
say on top Of that that he was one Of
the most promising violin pupils
ever had. He was a quiet, good-na-
tured, sawed-off, named Frank Barr,
but everybody called him Bricky Barr.
because he had the reddest suit Of
cowlicky hair that ever entered into
competition with a stormy sunset
He was about four inches over five
feet high, but as broad across the
back as Hackenschmidt, with a pair
Of orang-outang arms that reached
almost to his knees. He could pick up
by the rear axle a two-horse wagon
loaded with brick and raise 1t five
feet clear Of the ground with one hand.
"T belonged to the drifters when
I reached Wichita and organized my
class there. One evening, soon after
I'd got my scraping flock assembled,
I was passing a mechanics boarding
house on the outskirts Of Wichita.
This cfimson-haired runt was sitting
before one Of the open front windows
saving on a fiddle. 1t wasn't a violin.
1t was a fiddle. and a vicious fiddle.
The man making the sounds on 1t was,
knew at once, an ear player. Yet
there was occasionally a certain SEN
timent true and sound about the fell
lows rude performance. So stopped
and chatted with him.
HE told me that he didn't know
one note from another but that he'd
had the fiddle bug all his life. When
he told me that he was a plasterer
looked at his hands. They were neith-
er rough nor stiffened. Bricky told
me that he always wore gloves while
plastering not with the idea Of keep
ing his hands dainty, but so as not to
spoil them for his fiddling.
"Well, took Bricky into my Wichi-
IA class. Inside Of six months he had
a safe lead on all the rest Of them,
even If had been compelled to make
him unlearn all Of his ear-playing
denominations.
Inside Of a couple Of years I had
pushed Bricky, the plasterer, through
Wichita, Kaiser and Kreutzer and he
didn't do half badly with the Dancle
show pieces that occasionally let him
have to relieve the tedium of exer-
cises.
"Bricky was a tractable pupil. But
one evening, after he'd been working
at the violin under my direction for
about a year and half, something oc-
Cured to convince me that Bricky
wasn't to be fooled with. He was a
bit out of form with his lesson and in
amoment Of petulance I knocked his
bow up from the strings Of his violin
with my bow. Bricky's bow went fly
ing across the room.
"Bricky had a pair Of those steely
blue eyes that a good many western
men Of extraordinary nerve have been
provided with. He turned those eyes
upon me for about fifteen straight
seconds and there were CLEANS Of a
word, but walked over to sofa in a
corner Of the room. He deposited his
violin upon this sofa with great care.
Then ne walked back to where stood
and turned me around, took me under
the arms from behind, toted me over
to a window of the second story room
as II I'd been a setter pup, held me
suspended out of the window for an
instant and then dropped me to the
ground.
'It was only a ten foot drop and
the ground was soft from a recent
rain. No harm was done. / didn't
take 1t to heart, particularly, after I'd
had time to think 1t over.
After that Bricky and got on per-
fectly we'll together, although I never
knocked his bow out Of his hand
again. After two years gave up my
Wichita class and went to Denver to
take a position as orchestra leader in
a theatre. A few years later I quit
music for a time and went into busi-
ness.
| Occasionally my business called
me to Durango, Col. There wasn't
any worse town in the west at that
ti,oa thop Dnroppo Tt was q iumD-
ing off place for bad men. Nearly a
dozen marshals-none Of them a era
ven either-had already, at that peri
cd, been put away by the Durango
gun-fghters.
When I reached Durango one af-
ternoon in the summer Of 1886 there
was q lot of excitement there. Bud
Caldwell had stuck up Schiff's bank
that day. He had most Of the man.
hunters of Colorado and New Mexi-
co tied in bowknots with fear of him
at that time. Caldwell belonged to
that class Of desperadoes Of which
Billy the Kid was another example
that is he killed whether there was any
necessity for it or not He had stood OF
whole camps, backing out Of the camps
afoot when they'd hobbled or shot his
horse. He was so unerring on the
shot that the most determined and
reckless bad-man potters fought shy
Of him.
ION this day, then, Caldwell had
strolled into Schiff's bank at noon and
put the whole outfit back Of the trel-
lis under his pair of guns. He In
structed the cashier to stack up all OF
the gold and currency on the counter
in front Of him.
1.-The cashier didn't make any su-
perfluous movements in obeying. The
other employees Of the bank. also rec
ognizing Caldwell, stood or sat frozen
at their desks Caldwell swept all OF
the banks ready cash, $4,000, into
the leather pouch suspended from his
neck by a strap. Then he backed out
the door, None Of the bank people
had made a move except the cashier,