The Shootout Between Wild Bill Hickok And Dave Tutt
On 21st July, 1865, Wild Bill Hickok and David Tutt quarrelled over cards (one story) and decided to have a gunfight. At 6pm Hickok and Tutt arranged to walk towards each other. When they were about 50 yards apart both men drew his gun. Tutt fired first but missed. Hickok's shot hit Tutt in the heart. This was the first recorded example of two men taking part in a quick-draw duel. The following month Hickok was acquitted after pleading self-defence. Tutt was one of the estimated 20,000 men in the American West were killed from gunshot wounds between 1866 and 1900.
In 1866 he gave an interview to a journalist, George Ward Nichols about his exploits as a gunfighter. The article appeared in the February, 1867, edition of Harper's New Monthly Magazine. Newspapers such as the Leavenworth Daily Conservative, Kansas Daily Commonwealth, Springfield Patriot and the Atchison Daily Champion quickly pointed out that the article was full of inaccuracies and that Hickok was lying when he claimed he had killed "hundreds of men".
Hickok responded to these articles by giving an interview to another journalist, Henry M. Stanley. The article appeared in the St. Louis Missouri Democrat in April 1867. It included the following dialogue: "I say, Mr. Hickok, how many white men have you killed to your certain knowledge?" After a little deliberation, he replied, "I suppose I have killed considerably over a hundred." "What made you kill all those men? Did you kill them without cause or provocation?" "No, by heaven I never killed one man without good cause."
The articles by George Ward Nichols and Henry M. Stanley helped to develop the myth of the ritual shoot-out between two gunfighters who confront each other in a quick-draw duel. Most gunman who were in conflict with another westerner were much more likely to shoot them in the back than face a duel. There are no examples in history of two well-known gunfighters fighting in this way. However, once a man developed a reputation as a gunfighter, meant that he sometimes had to face a duel from a young gunman. Good gunfighters also faced the danger of being shot from behind. Wild Bill Hickok, Pat Garrett and John Wesley Hardin all died in this way.
The main feature of the story of the duel was told me by Captain Honesty, who was unprejudiced, if it is possible to find an unbiased mind in a town of 3000 people after a fight has taken place. I will give the story in his words: "They say Bill's wild. Now he isn't any sich thing. I've known him gong on ter ten year, and he's as civil a disposed person as you'll find he-e-arabouts. But he won't be put upon. I'll tell yer how it happened. But come inter the office; that's a good many round hy'ar as sides with Tutt--the man that's shot. But I tell yer 'twas a fair fight. Take some whisky? No! Well, I will, if yer'l excuse me.
"You see," continued the Captain, setting the empty glass on the table in an emphatic way, "Bill was up in his room a-playing seven-up, or four-hand, or some of them pesky games. Bill refused ter play with Tutt, who was a professional gambler. Yer see, Bill was a scout on our side durin the war, and Tutt was a reb scout. Bill had killed Dave Tutt's mate, and, atween one thing and other, there war an onusual hard feelin atwixt 'em.
"Ever sin Dave come back he had tried to pick a row with Bill; so Bill wouldn't play cards with him any more. But Dave stood over the man who was gambling with Bill and lent the feller money. Bill won bout two hundred dollars, which made Tutt spiteful mad. Bime-by he says to Bill:
"'Bill, you've got plenty of money--pay me that forty dollars yer owe me in that horse trade.' And Bill paid him. Then he said: "'Yer owe me thirty-five dollars more; yer lost it playing with me t'other night.' Dave’s style was right provoking; but Bill answered him perfectly gentlemanly: "'I think yer wrong, Dave. It's only twenty-five dollars. I have a memorandum of it in my pocket down stairs. Ef it's thirty-five dollars I'll give it yer.'
"Now Bill's watch was lying on the table. Dave took up the watch, put it in his pocket, and said: 'I'll keep this yere watch till yer pay me that thirty-five dollars. This made Bill shooting mad; fur, don't yer see, Colonel, it was a-doubting his honor like, so he got up and looked Dave in the eyes, and said to him: 'I don't want ter make a row in this house. It's a decent house, and I don't want ter injure the keeper. You'd better put that watch back on the table.'
"But Dave grinned at Bill mighty ugly, and walked off with the watch, and kept it several days. All this time Dave's friends were spurring Bill on ter fight; there was no end ter the talk. They blackguarded him in an underhand sort of a way, and tried ter get up a scrimmage, and then they thought they could lay him out. Yer see Bill has enemies all about. He's settled the accounts of a heap of men who lived round here. This is about the only place in Missouri whar a reb can come back and live, and ter tell yer the truth, Colonel--" and the Captain, with an involuntary movement, hitched up his revolver-belt, as he said, with expressive significance, "they don't stay long round here!
"Well, as I was saying these rebs don't like ter see a man walking round town who they knew in the reb army as one of their men, who they now know was on our side, all the time he was sending us information, sometimes from Pap Price’s own headquarters. But they couldn't provoke Bill inter a row, for he’s afeared of hissel when he gits awful mad; and he allers left his shootin irons in his room when he went out. One day these cusses drew their pistols on him and dared him to fight, and they told him that Tutt was a-goin ter pack that watch across the squar next day at noon.
"I heard of this, for every body was talking about it on the street, and so I went after Bill and found him in his room cleaning and greasing and loading his revolvers. 'Now, Bill,' says I, 'you're goin to get inter a fight.' 'Don't you bother yerself, Captain,' says he. 'It's not the first time I have been in a fight; and these d---d hounds have put on me long enough. You don't want me ter give up my honor, do yer?' 'No, Bill,' says I, 'yer must keep yer honor.'
"Next day, about noon, Bill went down on the squar. He had said that Dave Tutt shouldn't pack that watch across the squar unless dead men could walk. When Bill got onter the squar he found a crowd stanin in the corner of the street by which he entered the squar, which is from the south, yer know. In this crowd he saw a lot of Tutt’s friends; some were cousins of his'n, just back from the reb army; and they jeered him, and boasted that Dave was a-goin to pack that watch across the squar as he promised.
"Then Bill saw Tutt stanin near the court-house, which yer re-member is on the west side, so that the crowd war behind Bill. Just then Tutt, who war alone, started from the court-house and walked out into the squar, and Bill moved away from the crowd toward the west side of the squar. Bout fifteen paces brought them opposite to each other, and about fifty yards apart. Tutt then showed his pistol. Bill had kept a sharp eye on him, and before Tutt could pint it Bill had hi'sn out.
"At that moment you could have heard a pin drop in that squar. Both Tutt and Bill fired, but one discharge followed the other so quick that it's hard to say which went off first. Tutt was a famous shot, but he missed this time; the ball from his pistol went over Bill's head. The instant Bill fired, without waitin ter see ef he had hit Tutt, he wheeled on his heels and pointed his pistol at Tutt's friends, who had already drawn their weapons.
"'Aren't yer satisfied, gentlemen?' cried Bill, as cool as an alligator. 'Put up your shootin-irons or there'll be more dead men here.' And they put 'em up, and said it war a far fight." "What became of Tutt?" I asked of the Captain, who had stopped at this point of his story and was very deliberately engaged in refilling his empty glass.
"Oh! Dave? He was as plucky a feller as ever drew trigger; but Lord bless yer! it was no use. Bill never shoots twice at the same man, and his ball went through Dave's heart. He stood stock-still for a second or two, then raised his arm as if ter fire again, then he swayed a little, staggered three or four steps, and then fell dead.
"Bill and his friends wanted ter have the thing done regular, so we went up ter the Justice, and Bill delivered him self up. A jury was drawn; Bill was tried and cleared the next day. It was proved that it was a case of self-defense. Don't yer see, Colonel?
I answered that I was afraid that I did not see that point very clearly. "Well, well!" he replied, with an air of compassion, "you haven't drunk any whisky, that's what's the matter with yer." And then, putting his hand on my shoulder with a half-mysterious half-conscious look in his face, he muttered, in a whisper: "The fact is, thar was an undercurrent of a woman in that fight!”
The Holcombe Version
"Killing of Dave Tutt by 'Wild Bill'”
For some time after the close of the war Springfield was the resort of many hard characters. Adventures of every sort came in and met the ruffians of both armies, who, lately disbanded, were seeking a livelihood by any means not involving hard work. Among those who were in the town in the summer of 1865 was one J. B. Hickok, who came to be known as "Wild Bill," and as such has been made the hero of divers improbable adventures set forth in certain flashy, sensational publications.
Hickok had been in the Federal service in Southwest Missouri and Northern Arkansas, as a scout for the army of the frontier, and in the performance of his duties had grown to be well acquainted with danger, and being by nature a ruffian he soon became a desperado—a drunken, swaggering fellow, who delighted when "on a spree" to frighten nervous men and timid women, After settling in Springfield a favorite diversion of his was to ride his horse on sidewalks and into saloons, hotels, stores, and other public places, and make the animal lie down and perform other tricks, to the infinite delight, no doubt, of the proprietors, none of whom, unfortunately, had grit enough to blow the bully's head off.
A man after Wild Bill's own heart was one David Tutt, an ex-Confederate soldier, who had lived at Yellville, Arkansas, and had come, with his mother, sister and younger brothers, to Springfield, early in the spring. Tutt was a ruffian and a crack pistol shot. He was said to have "gotten in his work," not only on Federal soldiers, but on citizens who had crossed his path against his protest. Both Tutt and Hickok were gamblers, and good ones, although the ex-Confederate was the more proficient of the two. The two men were boon companions for a time; the one touch of ruffianism made them both akin. They walked the streets together, they drank together, they gambled together—and in the latter pastime Tutt effectually "cleaned out" Bill.
On the night of the 20th of July the two men played poker in a room at the "Lyon House," now the Southern Hotel, on South street. Hickok was the loser. First his money went; then his watch, a fine gold hunting-cased "Waltham," with a flashy chain and seal, then his diamond (?) pin and ring. He rose from the table completely "strapped," and much irritated and crest-fallen. Everybody knew Wild Bill's watch, and after it had been surrendered to Tutt this night, Bill asked him at a special favor, not to wear it publicly, or let people know that it had changed owners, as he (Bill) felt bad enough already and did not want the evidence of his misfortune, of his ill-luck and bad playing, flaunted in everybody's face.
Tutt laughed a mocking laugh at Bill's humiliation, and assured him that it would give him as much pleasure to wear the watch on the streets as it had already given him to win it. "I intend wearing it in the morning," he added. Bill replied with an oath, "If you do, I'll shoot you, and I warn you not to come across the square with it on." The two men parted and retired to their rooms—to put fresh caps, on their revolvers!
The next morning Tutt put on his watch,—and his revolver, too, and went down on the square. Going along the west side he entered the livery stable on the northwest corner and sat in the door where he could command a view of all four sides of the square, and especially of the Lyon House and South street. Very soon afterward Hickok came out of the hotel and down on the square, at the corner of South street. He stood on the west side of the street, and stopping one or two passersby inquired if they had seen "Dave Tutt down town this morning?" On being told that Tutt was on the square, Bill said, "Well, it's all right if he hain't got my watch on, but if he has there'll be merry hell, you bet your life!" Tutt's younger brother came up, and to him Bill said, "You had better go and tell Dave to take off that watch;" and when young Tutt said he thought his brother had a right to wear what he pleased if it belonged to him, Bill answered, "He shan't wear that watch anyhow." Just then Tutt came out of the livery stable and walked south along the square. Bill saw him and exclaimed, "There he comes now." The little group about Bill scattered, and he took a few steps forward and drew his revolver, a Colt's dragoon, with cap and ball.
Just as Tutt reached the corner of the courthouse and Campbell street, Bill called out, "Dave, don't you come across here with that watch." Tutt, as some say, drew his pistol, and almost instantly Bill fired, using one arm as a rest for his revolver. Tutt fell, shot nearly through the heart, and died very soon. Some deposed that Tutt's revolver was out of its scabbard when the body was first examined, and that Tutt had fired first. One chamber of the revolver was empty, and there were those who swore that they heard two pistol shots. Bill's shot was a fine one, but it is said by those who knew him well that it was a chance shot, for it is averred that when here Wild Bill was not considered a crack shot at all, and that his shot which killed Tutt at a distance of 75 yards was an accident.
As soon as he had fired and seen that his shot had taken effect Bill handed over his pistols to the sheriff, who came up, and informed that officer he was his prisoner. A few minutes afterward Bill was observed riding leisurely up South street taking the morning air. The circuit court was in session at the time. Bill was promptly indicted, arrested on a bench warrant, and brought to trial. He was vigorously prosecuted by the circuit attorney, Maj. R. W. Fyan, and ably defended by Hon. John S. Phelps. Witnesses testified that they heard two shots, and that the first came from near where Tutt's body was found. The empty chamber of Tutt's revolver was exhibited, and upon the ground of "reasonable doubt" that Hickok was the aggressor, the jury acquitted him. There were those, however, who, asserted that Hickok was cleared because he was an ex-Federal and a Radical, and the man he shot was a "rebel," and the jury were all men who could take the "Drake oath." A prominent attorney harangued the crowd from the balcony of the court house, and denounced the verdict as against the evidence and all decency, and there were threats of lynching Bill, but nothing was done, and he was allowed to live until shot by another desperate character, named Jack McCall, at Deadwood, D. T.
Local History Website. From George Ward Nichols, "Wild Bill,” Harper’s New Monthly Magazine. February 1867. From "Killing of Dave Tutt by 'Wild Bill,'" in R. I. Holcombe, History of Greene County, Missouri 1883. Website Created and Maintained by F. Thornton Miller, SMSU Department of History
