Long Hair and ga Plug Hāt

The first season that I had anything to do with Cody in business way
was begun in St Louis. I hurried the close of the " Troubadour " Season
so that I could be on hand for the organization of the Wild West in the
style that I had unmapped out for it in my mind after seeing the dreadful
fiasco of the first year under Cody and Carver. To this end I had
been prodding Cody all the Winter to get the stuff to St Louis, which
we had fixed on as the place to begin our season. I sent Sheible a w
week in advance to take charge until I got there. He had no sooner
arrived in St Louis, than he began to telegraph me to get there quick,
and that my presence was very necessary. He was too diplomatic to say
what was the urgent need of my presence, so I went to the end of my
Troubadour Season which came in Grand Rapids, and hastened to St Louis.

Filled with the importance of my new venture I arrived there in a
very nervous state of mind, for I realized that I was to begin a new
experience in the management of a new kind of men, than I had been ace
customed to handle. One can imagine my perturbation on going out to
the grounds where the Wild West forces had been put in camp by Cody, to
find him boiling drunk, in company with a man called White Beaver by
those people who like to exalt any long-haired man to a pinnacle of
heroism. As a matter of Fact White Beaver was a man who had practiced
medicine in Wisconsin among the Winnebago Indians and they had called
him White Beaver. His name was D, Frank Powell at one time an Army
Surgeon of ability, who for some freak of mind got disgusted with civil
ization and went among the indians and lived with them for a time andd
practiced his profession. At some period of this experience he met
Cody at some frontier place and they became fast friends, and called
themselves foster brothers, especially when they were on a drunk to-
gether with White Beaver. He was then a man of real ability, and was elected
Mayor of La Crosse several terms. He had two brothers who were also
long-haired men, and they traded on his reputation so much that he fin-
ally cut his hair, and of late years O have seen but little of him.

But to return to Cody. He greeted me with drunken enthusiasm, and
proceeded to gush over me in the most approved style. I was so disgust-
ted with the situation that I seriously thought of giving it up, and
letting the whole thing go to pot. If I had done so, I would not have
had as much money as I made out of the Show afterwards, but I would have
had infinite peace of mind, which I have never had since, so far as my
interest in the show was concerned, for I have always realized the slen
der I hold I have had on a man that would not scruple to throw me out
at a moment's notice if he dared.

The next morning after arrival I went out to the grounds determined
to take hold with a firm grip, and try to get order out of the chaos
that Cody had wrought in throwing a lot of material, and people to-
gether and then left the whole business to shift for itself while he
was filling his hide with Race Track whisky. I found him surrounded by
a lot of harpies called " Old Timers" who were getting as drunk as he t
his expense, but I could not help laughing till my sides ached at the
funny appearance he made as he leaned against the bar. He had taken a
plug hat from some one in the crowd, and jammed it on his head, and as
his hair was long and thick in those days, a more ridiculous figure
could not be imagined than he cut with his arm round White Beaver
while they re-hearsed the exploits of the frontier to the gaping gang
of bloodsuckers that surrounded them.

I let him stay where he was, and proceeded to the work in hand.

Fortunately the men who made up the company were of better clay
than our hero, and I found no difficulty in getting what I wanted out
of them in the way of obedience to orders, and in a few days I was in
a position to call a rehearsal. Of course I was furious with Cody for
his breach of faith with me, but events proved that it was lucky, for
as he was not in a condition to understand everything anything that

I wanted the company to do, I was able to have everything my own way, and formulated the programme to suit myself. This first programme under my direction is the programme of today, except that the introduction of new feature from year to year has altered the sequence of the numbers from time to time. But the original model stands today practically as I fixed it up on the old Race Track in St Louis in 1884.

Cody's drunk lasted for about four weeks, until we got to Pittsburg where he got so sick that he was knotted out and had to go to bed.

I had expostulated and threatened him at various times about his insulting our audiences by his beastly condition, and he had written me several letter of contrie promises to do better. One of these letters I have kept to this day as an evidence of that early experience with a man that I finally brought to the foot of the English Throne, and made him the Lion of the hour all over Europe. His European Drunk began at the end of the Paris season, and lasted fourteen months, and I have seen him in many stages of intoxication, but never has he been so funny as the day his flowing looks fell from under the plug hat onto the greasy buckskin shirt he wore.

Many people may imagine I am inspired by a spirit of malice in writing these things. Not at all. I am only giving those who are dear to me a club to pound him with if he ever attempts to blacken me in support of his overweening vanity that leads him to think he is a Tin Jesus on horseback. Make no mistake in thinking I have not said these things to him in person, or that he does not know how thoroughly I despise his character and habits, to say nothing of his morals and sense of honor.

Fortunately I have preserved copies of some of my latter day letters to him, that will prove my bearing towards him for many years.

There was a time when I would have taken his word in a mere money transaction without a moment's hesitation, and the best proof of that fact is that I have loaned him over a Hundred Thousand Dollars at a time without a scrap of paper between us. But a Wild Wolf will show his teeth, and it remained for him to do me up at the last for more than half of the above sum. Our books will show this last statement to be true beyond the question of a doubt.

His sister wrote a book called the "Last of the great Scouts", and if she will only insure the verity of her title page, she will be doing humanity a service. A man may be a "Great Scout", and a d-d-rascal at the same time. Speaking of great scouts and frontier things in general, reminds me that as a private soldier during the Civil War, I smelled more powder in one afternoon at Chickamauga, than all the Great Scouts" that America has ever produced. Ever did I in a lifetime.

Our Chesterfield

We had a young man with us during the season in Germany, who was made a member of the company at the request of his father, who was an old friend of his fathers. The young fellow had been brought up in a family of position and refinement, his father at one time holding a position

as a Bureauchief in the Government at Washington, but the boy thought that to be a real Wild West attraction, he should begin his career by thrashing a few cowboys, just to show that he could be a "Bad man from Bitter Creek" with any of them. He made the usual mistake that all men do who look for trouble, for he got it in several styles from the real cowboy contingent of the show. He then turned his attention to the "Tenderfoot" members of the company. Here again he met with failure, for the first man he tackled in trying to get "His size" was a doorkeeper who had been especially engaged for his ability to take care of the rough element of the public which is always in evidence around the door of a show of any kind. A few more experiences of this kind rather sobered the young fellow up, and when I thought he had been properly thumped into working shape to hold a position, I put him on the Staff as a Day Watchman at the front gate. His hours of duty to begin with, I had marked for those when he would not be brought into contact with the public at large. His first day of duty in this capacity came in Dresden. On the day before the King of Saxony had visited the Wild West, and after the performance was over he expressed a wish that he might be allowed to come out to the grounds the next morning to inspect our horses as he is a great lover of the horse.

Of course he had only to express the wish to have it granted, for we were always very glad to extend this courtesy to anybody of importance wherever we went. It was not only a great advertisement, but it was a proof to the general public that we were open to expert inspection, thus emphasizing our claims to genuineness in that make up of the Show. I was doubly glad to grant the request of the King, as he had shown me many courtesies in permitting the use of his name in the negotiations for our grounds etc. etc.

Late that evening I told the Night Watchman, that I expected a gentleman to visit the stables at seven o'Clock the next morning, and that if I was not there to receive him, he, that Day Watchman was to show the gentleman every courtesy. Of course I expected to be on hand as was my custom in such cases, but I was providing for any contingency which might arise, for Managers are never sure of their time, except on salary day. For some reason which has slipped my mind, I did not arrive until about half past seven, but I enquired from our recruit if a gentleman had enquired for me? He replied, "Cert, therés an old Geezer down there at the stables, that looks like a Maverick. I was goin' to trun him out, but he said "Nixey de boss wants to see me!""

Do you know who it was you wanted to "Trun out," I asked? Mr. "No" said he, "But he looks like a sheepherder from Burr Oak".

Well, "My young Chesterfield" said I, "That is the King of Saxony you were so polite to." "Hully Gee, was dat his nibs? Why didn't he wear his brand when he cum into de correll," M "My old dad said I never would git into good society, but when I git back to Newark and tell him I had a chin wid a King, he'll let go all holds and leave me all his munny."

I concluded from this experience, that I could not risk the care of any other stay King who might visit us during the season, to the tender mercies of our apprentice, so I put him at one of the entrances to the Grand Stand where the cheap priced tickets were taken up. He filled this position with varying success, until one day in Manchester England. Just after the doors were opened to the public one afternoon, he was approached by a tall, elderly, stately gentleman, who inquired of him in the soft, measured accents of the cultured English gentleman, if he and the two ladies who accompanied him would be allowed to see the Indian Camp?

"Why cert" says Hopeful, "Dats part of de racket." Oh thank

you very much, are you quite sure there will be no objection to our
going therefore the performance begins ?"

" Well sufferin'--- wot tell, -- dere ain't anybody got any
anker tied to you is dey ? Duck yer nut and go over on de odder side uv
de Grand Stan, and yer 'll find more injuns dan ud patch h--| a mile? /

He was talking to the Bishop of Manchester.

I then gave him a JOB in the stables.

I write to his father that his boy was doing nicely, but that I
thought he was better adapted to the Banking than the Show business.

At the Vatican

While in Rome, the Wild West was invited to visit the Vatican, and the day set apart for it was the Anniversary of the Pope's Coronation.

About 90% of the Company was in its bset bib and tucker when I arrived at the ground that morning, and I had the heads of department get out their full strength, so that when we started for the Vatican we had every man and woman in the outfit in line, except the Camp Guards and one Indian that did not feel very well, so his comrades left him covered with a blanket apparently as late as possible.

For a week before this day, John Burke, who is a devout Catholic, had worked on the Indians to impress them with the solemnity of the occasion we were about to assist in celebrating. He impressed them with the idea that they were going to see the Representative of God on earth, and to those of them who had been under Catholic instruction, at the Reservation, the coming event was one of great interest.

Arriving at the Vatican we were escorted to the Court Yard that opens from the Sistine Chapel, and were finally bidden to enter the Chapel itself. Once inside we found all the Diplomatic Corps assembled, while the places reserved for the ladies were crowded with the hundreds of Catholic who were in Rome at that time for this very celebration. It was one of the most impressive human ceremonies that I have ever witnessed as the Pope, borne on his Sedia came down between the Wild West lines on his way to the Papal Throne. We had massed the Wild West Company in open order along the corridor, in full war paint, and all the striking costumes that could be mustered for show, and realism. It was a curious sight to watch the expression of the faces of the people from the Frontier of America, as they gazed in awe struck wonder at the magnificence displayed on all sides, and marked the xenex exhibition of respect shown to His Holiness as borne aloft, he waved his blessing to the worshiping throng. As he passed the spot where Cody and myself were standing he looked intently at Cody, who towered a head and shoulders above everybody else, and who looked a picture in his dress coat and long hair. The combination seems incongruous, but he is the only man that I have ever known that could wear it without exciting laughter. As Cody bowed his head reverently His Holiness spread his hands in token of his blessing, and the good Catholics around us lokked with envy at Cody during the balance of the ceremonies.

When His Holiness took his place on the throne, the Sistine Choir began to intone the beautiful music that was continued at intervals all the time the High Mass was being celebrated. I had heard a great deal of sacred music in my life, but I never imagined anything so magnificently inspiring as that wonderful rendition of the Mass that morning. Any attempt to describe the effect of this music, would be like trying to imitate Niagara with a hand pump and a roadside ditch.

At the conclusion of the ceremonies, His Holiness was again seated in his Sedia, and passed out of the Chapel, through the ranks of the Wild West, followed by all the Cardinals, and attendants of the Papal Court. I had passed a nervous half-hour, for fear some of the Indians, not appreciating the sanctity of the Vatican, would utter an approving war whoop before the ceremonies were ended, in token of his approval of the whole affair. But fortunately Burke had schooled them in the conduct they must bear to the proceedings, but of this I knew nothing when we went into the Chapel. It would have seemed most irreverent if my fear had been realized, but as a matter of fact, it would not have been so, because the war whoop is the natural expression of Indian approval or defiance, and would have been uttered in as much reverence as the lowest prostration made by any of the faithful present.

Deadheads

It a hard matter to define the term deadhead in its various ramifica-
tions. Is is generally cons idered that a man who gets into a show
without paying money for his entrance is a deadhead. This is not so,
for many people earn the right to enter by reason of some service they
have rendered to the manager and the quid pro quo is evened up only
when the performance is over. But it is singular how many people them
are in this world who attach no commercial value to the space occupied
by the seats at an entertainment of any kind. They think that a show-
man gets a lot of money , somehow, and because he gets a lot of money,
somehow he does not earn it as other people do in other walks of life.

He is looked upon as a soft mark for everybody and especially the
particular person who wants to be entertained without money and without
price. Once a deadhead always a deadhead is the rule, and it applies
as perfectly as the rule that once ex a Bucker always a bucker. A con-
firmed deadhead will descend to any abasement of personal pride and
self respect to get inside of a show without paying for his entrance.

"Dear Sir: - clerk

I am a mark in a feather store, and as I understand
that you have some ostriches in your show, I would like to have two zic
tickets for tomorrow night, as it is my evening off".

The above is not an exaggeration of a form of requests that is as
familiar to me as my own signature.

Just before beginning this screed, I answered the following note
which I repeat verbatim.

"N, Salisbury, Esq,
Ridgewood & Putnam Aves.,
Brooklyn, N, Y.

Dear Sir:

Will you kindly send me five tickets to your show (Wild West)
and greatly oblige,

Mr. Hubbs is attached to the Bureau of Buildings, Department of Educa-
tion, of the City of New York, and of course he makes this the virtue
of his demand. Could anything be more insulting to the intelligence of a
manager, than to suppose he could be played for a sucker by such a
fool as the man who wrote this letter.

I have sent the letter to his superior officer, who is more than
likely the sort of a man who makes the same kind of demands, and will
regard it and my indignation as a good joke on a showman. For mind you
a Showman who invests thousands of dollars, and exerts all his inventive
skill to give the public a decent entertainment is not rated as being
in the social swim with the gentlemen who are in the Department of Ed-
ucation, but rather as a poor devil who might have been something in
the world if he had not gone astray in early youth, and put himself out
of the pale of that genteel society which depends on public pap for
sustenance.

The Department of Education of the City of New York is not the
only department of the Government that feels itself compelled to enjoy
itself at the managers expense. Wherever a Manager is brought in con

In contact with official life in America he must submit to being treated the pestiferous chronic dead head, or find himself hampered in every possible way by the Harpies who control his fortune.

In many towns in this country a manager cannot get a licence to exhibit unless he gives passes to all the City Government officials. And this is often a City Ordinance made to fit the case. And yet the public care so little for these things in this country they let this abuse go on from year to year, and consider that official deadheadism is a per-quisite of office that fairly belongs to the man they elect to treat all men with impartiality and justice.

And yet any of these men would be highly indignant if they were accused of sponging their amusements, as indignant as if they were accused of stealing a loaf of bread.

"Nate Salsbury Esq.

Dear Sir:-

I would like to have some tickets to see your show at the Madison Square Garden this evening. I am the Mayor of Spodunk, Oregon, and if you ever bring your show to my town I will recommend it to my friends,

Yours Ett, etc.

Confess

I challenge any showman who reads this, to say he has not had the sister letter to the above many a time in his career.

Would any of the deadheads who may read this, dare to go into his grocer, or butcher and ask him for a pound of meat or bread? Not on his life, and yet he does not hesitate to sacrifice his dignity to the extent of begging a total stranger to give him something without paying for it.

I believe I can change the form of any State Government of earth with a pass for two, if I can get at the right man to give it to.

I know that I have had a fixed law under a Military Despotism that set aside for the time being, for admitting a certain number of soldiers for nothing. This leads me to believe I could have had the law wiped off the books entirely if I could have got at the right man.

I do not believe I have entered the confines of a hotel in the past thirty years, that I have not been asked for passes from the office to my top floor if my room happened to be there, which it often has been.

Waiters, clerks, bootblacks, chambermaids, and proprietors usually vie with each other as to who shall get in his work first.

The Waiter has a claim because he brings you a good steak, the clerk because he gives you a good room, the bootblack because he gives you a good patent leather shine, the Chambermaid because she gives you an extra blanket, and the proprietor because he allows you to stay in his hotel, and thereby get a lot of prestige for yourself. The price you pay for all these accommodations has nothing to do with the case, you are a showman, and you are expected to do as all showmen must do or get as little as possible for your money. They do these things better in Europe, because all kinds of business over there are given equal protection under the law, and a City Father cannot rob you because you do not give him something for nothing.

The Chief of Police in Dresden said to me on my personal application for police protection that it would be furnished promptly. When I asked him what it would cost me, he turned as red as a turkey cook and said, "What do you mean sir?" Why said I, "I am accustomed to pay extra for police protection." You have a licence to perform in this city where you not?" Yes Sir" I replied. Very well said he, "That covers all that you are expected to pay the city, and you pay nothing more to anybody. If you do I will arrest you if I find it out? I will pro-

tect you and at the same time sir, I will protect our citizens? " When his apparent indignation had subsided, I said " Well Chief, can I offer you some tickets for your self and family ? No sir" said he ? " If I come to your show in my official capacity, I shall have no time to look at the performance, and if I come as a spectator I will buy my seats like any of the rest of your patrons. " It took me some time to rattle what I was up against, but when it dawned upon me fully, I thought I could see a faint streak of the Millenium morning creeping up out of the blackness that I had been wandering in for so many years.

Once a deadhead always a deadhead, and always a subject of contempt in the eyes of the Showman who submits to the robbery.

A DILEMMA

At the close of our regular season in 1884, we concluded that we would
try the experiment of running all Winter, arguing that if we only paid
expenses until the Spring opening time we would be making money at the
expense of a little harder work. As I was obliged to be with The
Troubadours that Winter season, I made all the necessary plans for
the itinery of the Shewgong Building after I was obliged to leave it. Th

The only mistake made in these plans was my acceptance of the services of "Pony" Bob, as an Advance Agent for the Show. "Pony Bob2 Was at one time a Pony Express rider, and at all times a sort of vassal for Cody, at whose urgent solicitation I agreed to let "Bob" go ahead and select grounds to play on, at those stands I gave him as the Route. "Bob" had as little judgment in such matters as any man I have ever met with in my whole life, and while he was perfectly devoted to the service he undertook, he had not the slightest fitness for the work in hand. He blundered along in a hap hazard kind of a way until he reached New Orleans, which was our objective point for the Winter. But he was sharp enough to send back the resiest kind of reports on the condition of the country through which the route was laid, as well as to convince Cody that he was a crack-a-jack of an Agent by his voluminous reports of his operations for our benefit. While I had misgivings that he was not giving us facts, I was bound to accept his statements, since they satisfied Cddy that he knew an Agent when he saw one. In due course of time the Show started on its Southern tour, and I went on the way of "The Troubadours". In the few days following I was convinced that all of "Pony Bob's" work would have to be undone by a real Agent, and to that end I sent another man ahead, who while pressed for time, got the rout into playable form, and the Show ent on its way down the river from Cincinnati, where we had chartered a Steamboat for the trip with a view of stopping at available points and giving performances to pay the expenses of the trip. We did not hope to make any money on the river, and we did not. Though I think "Pony Bob" was the large st contributing agent of that result. With more or less adventure and hard work the Show got well down the river beyond Bato n Rouge, when Cody thought it wise to leave it and go direct to New Orleans by rail to see if the grounds which we had hired were ready for our reception of zthazzhowz. He left the Show on Sunday, and the next day was in New Orleans, while I arrived in Denver on the same day, and opened at the Tabor Opera House for a weeks engagement. The first "Black Eye" of the day Cody received when he jumped in a hack and rode out to the ground, for when he arrived there, the first man he saw there was coming out of the grounds in a BOAT. The fact was the rain of the preceding four days had made a lake of the grounds, and they wereutterly untenable. Cody hustled all day, and finally made an arrangement to occupy the Metarie Race Track as long as he wanted to, and went to his hotel pretty well satisfied with his days work. Then he received a Very perfect "Black Eye" in the form of a telegram, which he transmitted to me, just as I was going on the Stateg for a Comic Song in the "Brook". The symphony of the song was being played by the Orchestra, and I was working up my artistic soul to the side splitting point of effect on my audience when a tap on the shoulder interrupted the flow of soul, and izzwazz brought me back to earth. Turning around impatiently, but before I could speak, a boy thrust a telegram into my hand.

I hastily tore it open, and read, "OUTFIT AT THE BOTTOM OF THE RIVER, WHAT SHALL I DO". I have been called an "Emergency man" in my time, but this time I camenear losing the title forever. Rushing to the speaking tube I yelleyd to the Conductor, "Play that symphony again and play it a little harder while I think a minute"

Rummaging around among my gray matter I found an expression that I felt
would fit the case, and not keep me my audience waiting too long, and so
I turned the telegram over and wrote "HAVE THIS BACK, " GO TO NEW ORLEANS
REORGANIZE AND OPEN ON YOUR DATE". HAVE WIRED YOU FUNDS" As an emergency
Cody now came to the front, and organized the Show from elements
that fortunately were to be found in the South -West, and he DID
open on the advertised date. You may ask "Where was the dilemma".

I answer, that if I had known what was to follow, I should have made
my telegram read, "Close up until Spring", and thus would have taken
the favorable horn for our interest, because it rained for over fifty
days after the opening, and caused us a great loss of money nad gave
Cody the hardest tussle of his whole career, which could have been
avoided if Jupiter Pluvius had not conspired with the Mississippi River
to ruin us. Pluvius is always a desirable quality in a Showman, but it
would be still more valuable if he could also be clairvoyant, especially
in New Orleans in the Winter time.

The immediate cause of all our trouble was the lack of foresight in
hiring the boat. She was a "Tub" of the Tubbiest description, but
our talented "Bob" was more familiar with the merits of a bronco than
he was with those of boats in general, and this one in particular.

When our "tub" reached a place called Rodney she collided with
a boat coming up the river, and was so badly damaged that her Captain
ran her ashore, where she was patched up, and then set fire to out again
on her journey. She moved out into the stream, and went down in thirty
feet of water in four minutes. The particulars of saving some of the
Stock and all of the people would fill too many many pages to be
interesting in this connection, and perhaps it had better be left for
another part of the history of the Wild West in the South.

(2)

and, resplendent in the uniform of a Major General of the French Army, he was calculated to make the most extravagant picture of Sol omon look like a soiled deuce in a new pack. At last the blare of trumpets announced the approach of the escort of the Shah. The down were flung open on a signal from me, the escort of cavalry, came in at a gallop, followed by the Equaries of the President of the Republic, who preceded the State Carriage, in which was seated the most unimpressive man I ever saw. The Postillions stopped their horses, the doors of the Carriage were flung open, the Shah descend ed to the ground AND, AND, AND, he was met by the Mayor, who addressed him thus-" Votre Majestie, je suis le Maire d'Neuilly. J'ai l'honneur de vous present e le Colonel---!!!---!!!-. With an impatient gesture his Despotness swept the Mayor aside, and stalked into the Grand Stand with as much disdain, as he would display when ordering a Persian gentleman to be drawn and quartered. To this day Cody and Salsbury have never been presented to the Shah of Persia. And the Mayor---!!! Talk about Mt, Vesuvius doing a bit of irrupting!!!! Chagrined, hot with anger, boiling with insulted municipal majesty, he turned to me and growled-" S-a-c-r-r-e c'est un huitre sans tete!!!!!! Of course Cody and xxx I were convulsed, but we managed to restrain ourselves until the Mayor strutting and fuming strode away taking of decorations as he walked, and stuffing them into his coat tail pocket. Cody went to the xxxx stables to start the performance, while I followed the Royal party into the Grand Stand to see if the orders I had given for xxx the proper care of our visitor were carried out. I have seen some funny things happen in my time, but I cannot recall anything that made me wish I was clever enough to describe in words so much as the various occurrences of that day. Above all other funny things was the bearing of the Despot. Imagine Stuart Robson playing the King in Hamlet, in a travesty of that play and you have a fair idea of the strutting entity whose head was ornamented by a blazing diamond, and whose body was carried on a pair of legs that resembled exactly, the legs and motion of an automaton.

One of the Cowboys sidled up to me when the Despot left the grounds

The Shah of Persia

While we were in Paris that city had a visit from the Shah of Persia. Among other exhibitions we had a place in his programme while he was the guest of the city, and of course we responded to the request of the Prefect of the Seine to assist him in the entertainment of his royal guest.

The day was set for his visit and I had everybody in his best bib and tucker to impress his ignorant Majesty, as I was sure he knew nothing of the manner of men he was to see.

The Mayor of Neuilly came to me when he heard of the intended visit, and asked as particular favor that he be allowed to receive the Shah as we were in his bailiwick and he thought as the chief magistrate he should be accorde the honor. I readily assented, and in return for what he esteemed my kindness he said he would take much pleasure in presenting Cody and myself to the Shah. As this sort of thing was the proper caper, I agreed to bring Cody to the gate when the Shah arrived, so he got into his regimentals I donned a spike tailed coat, and in company with his Honor the Mayor, we repaired to the gate and awaited his coming. The Mayor was a thing of beauty, for he was arrayed as neve a butterfly was. He was covered with decorations, and in the resplendent uniform of a Major General in the French Army he outshone Solomon in his palmiest days. At last the bugle sounded announcing the approach of the Shah and his escort. I ordered the gates flung wide open, the soldiers presented arms, the Cavalry escort and the eququies of the president of the Republic dashed into the grounds followed by a State carriage in which was seated the most unimpressive man I ever saw.

The Postilions stopped the horses, the footmen flung the carriage doors open, and the Shah decended to the ground where he was met by the Mayor, who addressed him thus" Votre Majestie, je suis le Maire d'Neuilly. J'ai monneaux de vous presente----------!!!!!! The Shah never stopped to hear the finish of the presentation speech, but stalking past the Mayor he waved him away with petulent disdain, and passed into the grand stand, and to this day Cody nor I have ever been presented to the Shah of Persia. As for the MAYOR!!!! Talk about Mount Vesuvius doing a bit of irrupting!!!! Chagrined, hot with anger he yelled after his Majesty-"Sacr-r-r-, nom de Dieu, c'est un huitre.

Of course Cody and I were convulsed with the absurdity of the whole proceeding, but we managed to restrain ourselves until the Mayor strutting and fuming strode away.

About half an hour afterwards the Mayor re-appeared at my office and asked if he could have a box, as he wanted to get where he could look at the shape of the Shah's headpiec I gave him the box and he sat the performance through, neve once ceasing to stare at our visitor.

It was curious for a robust republican to watch the slavish deference of the people who formed the body guard

and attendants of the Shah. At his slightest request the party addressed went down on his knees and kissed the hem of his master's coat, and otherwise indicated that the Shah fully deserved his reputation as a despot and petty tyrant.

The professoin who knew John L DeBonay and could imagin
him playing the King in Hamlet will have a very good idea o
the strut of his Majestic Shahship. Talk about a Tin Xuxxi
soldier, or a little tin God! I never saw anything so funny
as his attempt to walk as a King is popularly supposed to
walk. He did not bend his knees an atom, but lifted his
feet just enough to clear the ground and swung his leg s
forward like walking beams on a mud scow.

When he walked I thought I could see myself playing a
king in one of John Broughams burlesques, and doing it badly.

One of the Cowboys sidled upto me as the Escort left
the grounds and said" Is that a King ?" I Modded! " Hell"
said he " He wouldnt be deuce high as a horse wrangler on
sheep ranche".

it

Given the London Times the excuse *thruxxais* is always looking
for to get a whck at American Institutions. You may say th
such action would be Un-American. On the contrary, it
would have been my duty to show the English people os far a
as any action of mine could that the action of an Irish
Chief of Police should not be considered the public opin-
ions of the American public. Of course it is well grounded
in the English mind that New York is the Capital of the Irx
Irish Republic, and it would have been a patriotic duty for
me to give them any evidence I could that they had been
mis-led by the Yellow Journals of this polyglot town.

REMINISCENCES OF NATE SALSBURY

BOYHOOD

1. Leg Bail

CIVIL WAR

1. On the Missouri

2. Horace Porter

3. In Front at Nashville

4. Burying the Hatchet

5. An Order That Didn't Go

6. An Episode of Chickamauga

7. An Evening With Boucicault

THE TROUBADOURS

1. A Texas Bandwagon

2. A night in Joplin

3. Xenia

4. The Wrong "Coon"

BUFFALO BILL'S WILD WEST

1. Secret Service

2. Advance Agent

3. American Exhibition

4. Major General Burke

5. Cody, Manager

6. At Police Headquarters

7. Cody's Personal Representatives

8. The Pan-American Exposition

9. Contract With Bailey

10. Un Mauvais Quart D'heure

11. Long Hair and a Plug Hat

12. Our Chesterfield

13. At the Vatican

14. Deadheads

15. Bridge Across the Firth of Forth

16. A Dilemma

17. Duke of Teck

18. The Origin of the Wild West Show

19. Visit of the Wild West to Windsor

20. Nate Salsbury and the Shah

MISCELLANEOUS

1. Nate Salsbury's "Black America"

2. Is Marriage a Failure?

3. The Regular and the Volunteer

1. Personal

NOTES RELATING TO REMINISCENCES AND OTHER DOCUMENTS

1. Reminiscences.

"Leg Bail" The sister mentioned on page 2 was Hattie Fuller. The half-sister whose letters to him are part of the Nate Salsbury papers.

"Visit of the Wild West to Windsor". The stick-pin and a Grand Army of the Republic badge (formal) are in the possession of Mrs. W. H. Schloss (Ranvel Salsbury) of 221 South Poinsettia Blve, Los Angeles, Calif. and will be kept in her family. (See page 2, last paragraph re pin). My nephew, Nate Salsbury, of 491 Farm Ranch Road, West, Bethpage, Long Island, N.Y. has my father's badge of the Legion of Honor, G.A.R. badge and G.A.R. Post lapel Button. R.S.J.

2. "Black America".

See "Allow Me to Present" by Rebecca James for biography of
Harry Tableton.

On the Missouri (continued)

Our colonel was the first to realize this danger, and jumping on the wheel house he cried, "Five hundred dollars to the boat's crew that saves him." All this time the deckhands had been busy lowering a boat into which six big oarsmen jumped, and just as the boat was cast off Jim Courtright, Sergeant of "H" Company jumped into the bow of the boat, with the cry, "Get to him, boys, and he comes back with us."

Courtright was the biggest man in the regiment, and a Titan in strength, and the whole regiment cheered when they saw him jump into the boat.

All this time the swimmer was getting nearer the danger line, and we were a swaying mob of excited men, who wanted to do something, while we knew we were powerless to do anything. Away shot the boat like a thing of life, for added to the six strong oarsmen was the rush of the tide that carried her at railroad speed. Closer and closer she drew, and we could see Courtright stand up and take off his coat and bare his big right arm for the supreme moment when he would measure his strength against that of the demon of the river.

Nearer, and nearer to the smiling swimmer went the boat, and at last only a few feet divided a human soul and death. Courtright, lying with half his huge length over the bow of the boat, gripping the gunwale with his left hand for a purchase cried to the swimmer, "Tread water", knowing that if the swimmer did this he could grab an arm that he would naturally extend over his head, but his instruction was misunderstood, for just as he swept the water with his hand in the effort to get hold of his man, the swimmer stopped swimming, and at that second of time the undertow caught his feet, and in the twinkling of an eye he was swept into eternity.

A groan of despair went up from the thousand men who watched that tragedy, and I do not believe the memory of that scene was ever blotted out from the minds of those who witnessed it, nor do I ever remember any battle scene that seemed so utterly horrible to me as the loss of that man's life in the muddy waters of the Missouri.

Horace Porter (continued)

To make an interesting incident short, it suffices to say that
explanations followed; but it seemed incredible that Gen. Porter
could be the man who rode away from the shade of that tree, shaking
his head, as if counting me among those who would never report for
duty again. During my stay in Philadelphia, the General and I sat
down to lunch one day, and through the smoke of a good cigar he
told me that he had carried that scene on the field of Chickamauga
in his mind's vision for many days after he rode away from where I
was lying. The whole surroundings of the spot, the distant roar of
the battle which was still on, the name of my regiment and company,
my own name of Natman, which is not a command one, and Salsbury,
which is even less frequently met with: all these things had served
to fix the picture in his mind, and when he attended the theatre
one night in New York where we were playing, the sight of my face
and my name on the programme, had awakened the dormant memories of
twenty odd years, and they had carried him back to the shade of the
old oak tree, under which I was being swabbed off by the doctor,
and he had determined to take the first chance to prove the strength
of his memory. For my part, I cannot recall any such feat of
memory in all my experience, and I suppose that it is from the
fact that nothing ever escapes his mind or memory, that Gen. Porter
is now Minister to France, for the man who never forgets generally
commands what he desires in this world, and common humanity is
glad to accord him the measure of his ambition.

Burying the Hatchet (continued)

had been too much depressed came tearing through the underbrush
about twenty feet from where we were lying, and landed plump in
the middle of the pit which sheltered the sons of France and
Sweden, and then exploded with terrific force, demolishing the
pit completely, and throwing the occupants into space and landing
them several feet away.

Of course we thought they were both killed, but, to our
surprise, in a few minuted Babin raised his head cautiously, and
looking around, let go a yell that might have been heard in
Heaven, and then ducked his head and lay quietly. "He's gone,"
said someone. At that Nelson sat up, and looking around in a
dazed sort of way began to feel of himself to find if he was all
there. Satisfied that nothing of any value to himself was miss-
ing, he laid down again. Someone said, "I guess he's got his
dose." Suddenly they both sat up, and without a word rose to
their feet, advanced to each other, shook hands, and lay down
again.

The whole thing from where we were watching them was too
funny for expression, knowing as we did how cordially they hated
each other, but it proved the sentiment "that one touch of Nature
makes the whole world kin."

An Evening with Boucicault

One evening in the month of December 1888, I attended, by invitation of the Saturday Night Club, a supper given in honor of Dion Boucicault. It was an evening of surprises. Mr. Clark Bell who was at the head of the table, and who had extended the courtesies of the Club to Mr. Boucicault, was surprised at the very late appearance of the guest of the evening, who on entering the room, coolly informed the waiting company that he had entirely forgotten the invitation, and should have gone to bed in blissful forgetfulness of the event, if his valet had not reminded him that he had a supper on somewhere.

Suchuteness on the part of the most distinguished Dramatist of the decade was a surprise to the gentlemen who had assembled to do him honor, and among whom were Gen'l. W.T. Sherman, Colonel R. G. Ingersoll and others who were prominent in the social life of New York City.

The reader can imagine how difficult it was for Mr. Bell to restore the harmony of the occasion after this statement had sent a frosty wave over the cordiality that accompanies, or should accompany, the discussion of the menu.

However, by the time the cigars had been set afire, the incident had lost its depressing effect, and everybody had rallied to Mr. Bell's assistance and good humor was restored.

The company being composed of men selected for their prominence in their various professions, it can be imagined how pleasantly our various excuses for being alive were discussed, as each man was called upon to account for his predelection for, and entyance upon, his chosen career, and to answer such pertinent questions regarding his vocation as any one present chose to ask.

It was in this connection that I sprung a surprise on General Sherman. While he was responding to the toast of "The Army", someone asked him "What class of men made the best soldiers during the Civil War?"

The General said he would reply by relating an incident of the Georgia Campaign, that would illustrate his opinion better than it could be done any other way.

"During the Atlanta Campaign, we were brought up with a round turn, in one of our flanking movements, by General Johnston making a stand at Pine Top, one of the natural barriers that so much assisted him to dispute our right of way to the heart of the Confederacy. After making such a disposition of my troops as was necessary to protect the right of our line, I started with a few members of my Staff, to prospect the ground on our right and front, for the operation of the morrow".

"We had proceeded about half a mile to our right and front when we came to a small clearing which gave us a commanding view of the country for miles around. But the place also gave the Confederates a commanding view of our party, for they proceeded to remind us of their presence by sending a solid sot from a battery they had posted on top of the mountain in our immediate front, so uncomfortably near us as to suggest absence of body being better than presence of mind, and we ingloriously bolted back into the shattering wood behind us.

A Night in Joplin

In the early days of the "Troubadours" we did our share of barnstorming and once upon a time we found ourselves in Joplin, Mo., which at that time was just beginning to be an important lead mining town.

The plays for that evening were "The Brook" preceded by "A Cup of Tea". Both of these were so far above the heads of our audience that I have since wondered why we were not arrested for getting money under false pretences.

I think the receipts that evening must have aggregated sixty dollars or less. I am sure they were not more than that sum. There may have been two hundred men and boys, and about four women in that audience. In the first mentioned part of our audience I did not see one boiled shirt, or an entirely clean face.

I realized when we had garnered all the receipts that were likely to come into our treasury, that we had made a frightful mistake in the selection of the bill for that evening, and that "Patchwork" would have stood a better show of being understood than the beautiful little play called "A Cup of Tea". But I proceeded to debase the play by going on for the maid servant, and making it a wild Irishman looking for a fight. Of course I tore the argument of the whole play into tatters, and did everything I could to make them laugh, as I knew that was what they wanted to do if anything. I unloaded every Irish witticism I could remember, drew on my memory for all the specialties that I had seen in the variety halls, and in fact made a monkey of myself, to save the situation. But I DID NOT save it, for they never craced a smile. Everybody on the stage was speechless with ill-concealed enjoyment of my antics, and when the curtain fell, Webster and Nellie fairly had convulsions and chaffed me unmercifully on my failure to please even the small boys in front.

In those days I very often used to sing the Old Sexton as a song and dance between the pieces, i. e. communities where they liked that sort of thing. It occurred to me that I would save the day with the Old Sexton, and I sent word down to Maeder that I would do the song between the acts. I had always made up in black tights, shoes, hat, gloves, in fact, everything black. But this time I conceived a brilliant idea.

I would give it to them in blue. To this end, I hauled out a blue pair of tights, shoes, jacket, hat with blue feather, and made my face blue to match.

I gave the signal, the curtain went up, and I sallied out from the right first entrance, on Maeder's astonished vision. Expecting to see me in black, he was so entranced by my blue aspect, that he forgot to start the symphony of the song, and falling into a gale of laughter, he yelled, "I can't play it, I can't find the key, where did you get it?"

In short, he could not play the accompaniment for laughing, and walking down to the footlights with great dignity, I said, "Well, then, I will go to a city where there are competent piano pounders," and walked off the stage, and I have never sung the Old Sexton in Joplin yet.

I have often wondered what that audience thought of that performance. Where I came from, what I was trying to do, and what it was all about anyway.

XENIA

Among the towns that the "Salsbury's Troubadours" played in
during the first summer they were on the road was Xenia, Ohio. I
am reminded of this at this writing by putting the town in the Wild
West route for the summer. This town of Xenia will always live in
my memory as the one that furnished the most unique experience of any
in which I ever did business.

We were billed to appear in due time at the Town Hall, in
Patchwork and a farce. We arrived on the date, and put up at one
of the most modest hotels the town boasted, and that was modest
enough as far as the beds and bill of fare went, and my ability to
meet the bill of particulars when presented. As soon as I had
registered the company, I went to the "Hall" to see if there was
anything in the way of scenery that we could use, and was agreeably
disappointed to find the place very well supplied, and a comfortable
auditorium, which as a rule was an indication of enterprise and
patronage by the public which could think of its own comfort and the
actor's necessities. I got everything in readiness, and then went
back to the hotel, feeling that we were in for a good evening's
receipts. Alas for our hopes, never were appearances more decep-
tive. We went to the "Hall" and got ready for the performance at
the regular hour, and I opened the doors, raised the box office
window and waited for customers. They never came. In fact, he or
she never came. For not a single person darkened the door of the
"B Hall" except the janitor and ourselves. And I believe this is
a record, for I have never heard of any other showman having exactly
the same experience, and the nearest to it that I ever heard of was
on another occasion, when the "Troubadours" played a matinee at
Daly's Theatre to $11.50. If any other professional alive can
equal this record I would like to crack a bottle with him, and will
pay for it gladly.

"Hope deferred maketh the heart sick", and at length it dawned
upon me that we would not be likely to gather in the shekels desired
to meet the daily expense, and when the busy hour of nine o'clock
arrived, I sadly intimated to the janitor that his services would
not be needed any longer than it would take the company to get out
of their stage toggery and the "Hall". This they finally did, and
then wended their lonely way homeward to the hotel, wondering what
was in store for us all, and if we had finally reached the end of
our string?

On reaching the hotel I met a gentleman who introduced himself
as the constable, and who presented me with an attachment against the
baggage of the company in behalf of the local billposter. It seems
that he had a scout out on the other side of the street from the
"Hall" to report our prospects of doing business, and the scout had
naturally so alarmed him as to the prospect of getting his money,
that, true to the billposting instinct, he promptly got hold of a
judge who issued the attachment against us, because it was feared
that we would bolt the town in the night. Of course I was furious,
because the bill had never been presented to me at all, and I knew
my creditor had overreached himself in his anxiety to get the $16
owing him. I accompanied the constable to the court house, followed
by the male part of the company, who were in a funk at the appear-
ance of things. I found that the billposter had sufficient local

(printed heading)

Hon. W. F. Cody, Proprietor.

C.A. Dillon, Foreman.

Office of the
SCOUT'S REST STOCK RANCH
Breeder of Draft, Trotting and Road Horses
also, Short Horn and Hertford Cattle

North Platte, Neb. Apr. 12th 188

My Dear Nate

Here I am foot loose and ready for work, but no money. Neither do I know what I can do about giving bonds for Indians as Burke did not mention about the Indians in his letter to me. I have wired him but no answer. I can get Pawnees without any permission, but as Burke has agitated against the question its best now to give the bonds but I know nothing what he agreed to do, so I am up a stump until I get money and hear about how to give bonds for Indians. I bought twelve head of horses and paid for them, including five buckers. Nate what can or had we better do about gambling privelages. I can get the best man in the world to run them so we can make big money out of them and do it in a nice quiet way, if you say so. You think about it. Write me. And write me what to do and if I dont get that money what in K. Christ are we to do?

Write soon
Cody

(Original on page 142 of Nate Salsbury's personal scrap-book)

N. O. Mar. 9th (1884 or 1885)

(New Orleans)

My Dear Pard

Well the weather is better but there is but few
strangers in the City and the people of the City are too
dam poor to patronize anything although will try to pay
expenses while here. I presume Woolcott explained everything.
Now about Buffalo I thought of pulling through to Washington
with what we have but we must have some when we get there. I
did know of six head in Dakota have written about them. Do
you know of any? We have just about the same number of horses
we had last summer. Will have about twenty five Indians in
the saddles 7 Mexicans and 8 Cow Boys when we leave here.
When can you join the outfit? I sent North to Nebraska to
fix my business there and to get some money for me and bring
the New Indians. I will keep some of these Indians but most
of them are farmers at home and will have to be sent back 1st
of April. I guess North will surely get money enough to pay
that expense, he is going to try & get me $5,000. I think
Washington and Baltimore will stand a week each. I want to
play Phila last of June & first week of July -- 2 weeks at
our old plase. Will know what you think about it when Woolcott
comes. Very glad your business is better. Don't fear about my
getting off as I told you that I am to do my very best for
another season. Yet next winter when the show is laid up for
the winter I'm going to get on a drunk that is a drunk. Just
to change my luck I will paint a few towns red hot but till
then I am staunch and true With my shoulder to the wheel
Eli!

Cody

Johnnie Baker is shooting to beat L. breaks balls in the
air like an old timer, I want to star him this summer

(Original on page 140 of Nate Salsbury's personal scrap-book)

R.S.J.

(On the stationary of the Hoffman House, Madison Square)

New York, Jan. 29, 1895

Dear Nate.

Its wrong to trouble you. But I am in a tight
place. And if I had a little time to go on I am sure that
I could pull through and make a loan on my property. I
told Ed Stokes how I am situated and he says that in March
he expects to have a lot of money loose that is now tied
up. And will then let me have what I want. And he says
he will go on my note with any other man now for to help
me out. Nate I can tide over with $5,000 do you think the
bank of the Metropolis would loan me $5,00 for four months
And as soon as I can make the loan on my property I will
take the note up. Will you go on my note with Stokes for
$5,000. Nate this is to keep my credit good that I ask
this. And if I fail to make money by next summer I will
sell everything I have and pay you and others I owe. And
start in fresh. This being pushed to the wall I will not
stand. Nothing hurts me more than to be in debt. Please
answer by messenger and give me your advice, and tell me
how to pull out of this hole

Bill

(From W. F. Cody R.S.J.)

(Page 144 of Nate Salsbury's personal scrap-book)

(New Orleans, 1885)

N. O. Feb 14

My Dear Pard

The cammels back is broken. This day I looked
for ward to, as one to help us out, worked every possible
means to make it a success but God, Christ and the devil
is against me. The morning opened bright I started with a
full parade thousands of people in the <u>damned</u> City, and we
would surely have played to $2000 had it not been so ordained
that we should not. At 10:30 it clouded up all of sudden
and poured rain until 4 PM then it cleared up again just as
pleasant as before. Its plain to me now. I can read it
clearly, fate if there is such a thing is against me. There
is not one bit of use of trying more the more we stick at
this the worse off we are, the sooner we give this outfit
away the better. I am thoroughly discouraged, I am a damned
condemned Joner and the sooner you cut clear from me the
better for you. Mr. Milner came today, he has just gone
into the city with Schiable Burke & Keene. I fear I did
not succeed and capture his good opinion as I really intended
doing, but he struck me with the rain and I was cursing
everything from God to a coyote wolf - I will do what I can
to entertain him, but really I am sic no humor to do so.
I like his appearance very much he was glad to hear from
you says he lost your notes & could not write. I am an
<u>ingersol</u> man from this out, and a damned Joner disgusted
with myself & the world - there is no <u>heaven</u> if so it can
stay there and be damned.

Your Pard & take my advice & quit him
Cody

(original on page 150 of Nate Salsbury's personal scrap-book)

At Police Headquarters

Just before the opening of our season at the Madison Square Garden in 1901, I sent one of the Aglets of the Wild West, Coyle by name, down to Police Headquarters to get the permit to make our usual parade of the Wild West on the streets the day before we were to begin, which was March 1st. Mr. Coyle, to my astonishment, came back and reported that the Police Commissioner, Murphy by name, had refused to grant the order BECAUSE we had advertised that Canadian Soldiers who had taken part in the South African War would be part of the parade. Up to this time I supposed I had met every possible objection that a policeman could think of in his right to make us trouble, under the guise of DUTY. But this was a new one, that required immediate attention. Accordingly, Cody, Cooke, Coyle and the writer went to Headquarters on appointment to protest against the arbitrary ruling he had made.

It was clear that his action was to create popularity for himself among the henchmen of Tammany Hall, and the Pro-Boers in New York. We were shown into the presence of the Czar of New York and to our interrogations he replied that he had made the ruling because he was satisfied that there was a strong sentiment against the presence of British Soldiers in the streets of New York in their capacity of soldiers who had participated in the attempt to conquer the South African Republic. I asked him if he was aware that we had engaged a detachment of Boers and that they would parade on equal terms with the Englishmen and Canadians? He said he knew all about it but that did not change his opinion.

After a lot of palaver Cody said he would not consent to cut the Boers out of the parade to satisfy any prejudice there might be against them, and that he would not be a part of any attempt to insult the English people who had been good friends to us during the Spanish-American War, and that rather than do such a thing we would not make the parade at all, but would of course be obliged to tell the public why we did not follow our usual custom in making the parade. At this, Mr. Czar began to prick up his ears a bit, and after a few "chips" from me, and a few more from Cody that we had rehearsed before we went down, he turned abruptly to his desk and said that the permit would be issued. I think the shot I fired at him "That we were not representing a political idea in the Wild West" rather upset his pre-conceived idea that he would make a ten strike at our expense, and advance his political fortunes accordingly. I fancy he saw visions of the newspapers taking up the quarrel for us, and demanding to know why the doors of this republic should be closed to any class of men or any race of men, who were at peace with us, and who sought the benefits of either a long or short residence here. It was the weakest bluff I ever knew a man to make who was in a position to make all kinds of an ass of himself.

While the Seance was gloing on, Devery, the discredited former Chief of Police was sitting at his elbow, and I could tell by his expression that he saw that Murphy had put his record at our disposal, and he seemed to be relieved when Murphy said the permit would be allowed. There is no city in all the world that stands as much

When I got home and told my wife what had happened, she looked for moments as if she would make a good running mate for the Contractor. But I pounded myself on the breast and told her not to worry, that she was married to an intellectual giant who would sweep failure and opposition from his path like feathers. She braced up and concluded not to worry me by showing anxiety as she had done and has done a thousand times since when I seemed to be over my depth.

Like the measuring worm of our boyhoods experience on the farm, we all managed to make both ends meet in our progress, and the opening of the show was not delayed an hour beyond the advertised date. The Contractor lost about fifty % of his profit for the job by going down town that sunny afternoon, but he was happy that I did not close down on him, and I was happy that he did not lose more, for he worked like a demon to repair his mistake, and as that is not a characteristic of Frenchmen in my experience generally, it pleased me to know that my firmness had saved us both from being parties to a failure.

I will always make it a point however, to advise all young managers to keep an eye on the unfinished end of any job, that affects their contracts with the public.

Long Hair and a Plug Hat

The first season that I had anything to do with Cody in business way was begun in St. Louis. I hurried the close of the "Troubadour" Season so that I could be on hand for the organization of the Wild West in the style that had mapped out for it in my mind after seeing the dreadful fiasco of the first year under Cody and Carver. To this end I had been prodding Cody all the Winter to get the stuff to St. Louis, which we had fixed on as the place to begin our season. I sent Sheible a week in advance to take charge until I got there. He had no sooner arrived in St. Louis, then he began to telegraph me to get there quick, and that my presence was very necessary. He was too diplomatic to say what was the urgent need of my presence, so I went to the end of my Troubadour Season which came in Grand Rapids, and hastened to St. Louis.

Filled with the importance of my new venture I arrived there in a very nervous state of mind, for I realized that I was to begin a new experience in the management of a new kind of men, than I had been accustomed to handle. One can imagine my perturbation on going out to the grounds where the Wild West forces had been put in camp by Cody, to find him boiling drunk, in company with a man called White Beaver by those people who like to exalt any longhaired man to a pinnacle of heroism. As a matter of fact White Beaver was a man who had practiced medicine in Wisconsin among the Winnebago Indians and they had called him White Beaver. His name was D. Frank Powell at one time an Army Surgeon of ability, who for some freak of mind got disgusted with civilization and went amorg the indians and lived with them for a time and practiced his profession. At some period of this experience he met Cody at some frontier place and they become fast friends and called themselves foster brothers, especially when they were on a drunk together. White Beaver however was a man of real ability, and was elected Mayor of La Crosse several terms. He had two brothers who were also longhaired men, and they traded on his reputation so much that he finally cut his hair, and of late years have seen but little of him.

But to return to Cody. He greeted me with drunken enthusiasm and proceeded to gush over me in the most approved style. I was so disqusted with the situation that I seriously thought of giving it up, and letting the whole thing go to pot. If I had done so, I would not have had as much money as I made out of the Show afterwards, but I would have had infinite peace of mind, which I have never had since, so far as my interest in the show was concerned, for I have always realized the slender hold I have had on a man that would not scruple to throw me out at a moments notice if he dared.

The next morning after arrival I went out to the grounds determined to take hold with a firm grip, and try to get order out of the chaos that Cody had wrought in throwing a lot of material and people together and then left the whole business to shift for itself while he was filling his hide with Race Track whisky. I found him surrounded by a lot of harpies called "Old Timers" who were getting as drunk as he at his expense, but I could not help laughing till my sides ached at the funny appearance he made as he leaned against the bar. He had taken a plug hat from some one in the crowd, and jammed it on his head and as his hair was long and thick in those days, a more ridiculous figure could not be imagined than he cut with his arms round White Beaver while they rehearsed the exploits of the frontier to the gaping gang of bloodsuckers that surrounded them.

I let him stay where he was and proceeded to the work in hand. Fortunately the men who made up the company were of better clay than our hero, and I found no difficulty in getting what I wanted out of them in the way of obedience to orders, and in a few days I was in a position to call a rehearsal. Of course I was furious with Cody for his breach of faith with me, but events proved that it was licky, for as he was not in a condition to understand anything that I wanted the company to do, I was able to have everything my own way, and formulated the programme to suit myself. This first programme under my direction is the programme of today, except that the introduction of new feature from year to year has altered the sequence of the numbers from time to time. But the original model stands today practically as I fixed it up on the old Race Track in St. Louis in 1884.

Cody's drunk lasted for about four weeks, until we got to Pittsburg where he got so sick that he was knocked out and had to go to bed.

I had expostulated and threatened him at various times about his insulting our audiences by his beastly condition, and he had written me several letters of contrie promises to do better. One of these letters I have kept to this day as an evidence of that early experience with a man that I finally brought to the foot of the English Throne, and made him the Lion of the hour all over Europe. His European Drunk began at the end of the Paris season, and lasted fourteen months, and I have seen him in many stages of intoxication, but never has he been so funny as the day his flowing locks fell from under the plug hat onto the greasy buckskin shirt he wore.

Many people may imagine I am inspired by a spirit of malice in writting these things. Not at all. I am only giving those who are dear to me a club to pound him with if he ever attempts to blacken me in support of his overweening vanity that leads him to think he is a Tin Jesus on horseback. Make no mistake in thinking I have not said these things to him in person, or that he does not know how thoroughly I despise his character and habits, to say nothing of his morals and sense of honor.

There was a time when I would have taken his word in a more money transaction without a moments hesitation, and the best proof of that fact is that I have loaned him over a Hundred Thousand Dollars at a time without a scrap of paper between us. But a Wild Wolf will show his teeth, and it remained for him to do me up at the last for more than half of the above sum. Our books will show this last statement to be true beyond the question of a doubt.

His sister wrote a book called the "Last of the Great Scouts", and if she will only insure the verity of her title page, she will be doing humanity a service. A man may be a "Great Scout", and a d-d-rascal at the same time. Speaking of great scouts and frontier things in general, reminds me that as a private soldier during the Civil War, I smelled more powder in one afternoon at Chickamauga, than all the Great Scouts that America has ever produced or ever did in a lifetime.

Stand to see if the orders I had given for the proper care of our
visitor were carried out. I have seen some funny things happen in
my time, but I cannot recall anything that made me wish I was clever
enough to describe in words so much as the various occurrences of
that day. Above all other funny things was the bearing of the
Despot. Imagine Stuart Robeson playing the King in Hamlet, in a
travesty of that play and you have a fair idea of the strutting
entity whose head was ornamented by a blazing diamond, and whose
body was carried on a pair of legs that resembled exactly, the
legs and motion of an automaton.

One of the cowboys sidled up to me when the Despot left the
grounds and said, "Is that a King?" I nodded affirmatively. "Hell"
said he, "He looks like a new horse wrangler on an old Rancho."

Note: A second version of "Nate Salsbury and the Shah" is attached.

# THE REGULAR AND THE VOLUNTEER

"Hats off to the homecoming swell volunteer?"
"Why sure, in a minute," the Regular said.
"And there ain't any lungs in the crowd there whose cheers
'll be louder than mine, for a-livin' or dead
Every soldier's a soldier to me thick or thin."
But I ask if these scars that disfigure my brow
Ain't marks of a valor as honest as his'n;
As I lean on my crutch with a leg like a cow,
I look back at the hospital, camp, and the prison,
And I sez 'Where in hell do we reg'lars come in?
Did we fight just as hard as the swell volunteers?
Hats off to the homecoming swell volunteers?
You bet, for down there in the swamps of Luzon
We fought close together and shared the same fears,
And the same kind of pallet we both slept upon,
For we both had the same kind of glory to win.
But my troop ship got here the same day as theirs,
And there wasn't a crowd for to welcome us home:
No reception Committee, no fuss and no airs:--
Did we feel a little downhearted? -- Well some:
And we asked: Where in hell do we reg'lars come in,
For we got it as hot as the swell volunteers?

Hats off to the homecoming swell volunteers,
Then let's talk it over, this difference between
Him and me - for there is quite a gap it appears,
And I wouldn't be thought either selfish or mean.
But it does seem they're splittin' the hairs pretty thin.
I'm told that they hunted the streets up and down
Getting up a big fund for the "Vols" out o' work:
But they've mustered us out and we're all on the town
Just as much as that painted thing here with her smirk,
She'll ask were in hell do we reg'lars come in,
And give up all her smirks to the swell volunteers.

"Hats off to the homecoming swell volunteers,
With their flowers, and their girls, and their banquets and feeds
And I'll go to my home with its signs and its tears,
And its twelve dollar pension to fill all its needs,
Where there's nothing but squalor without and within,
Republics are not the most grateful of things,
But we fought for our livin' I guess -- let it go:--
Still we know in our hearts what the memory brings,
And we're proud of our dozen hard battles or so.
All the same where in hell do we reg'lars come in?
For by God we ain't in it with them swell volunteers.

by N. S. ?

(R.S.J.)