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[{"type":"text","text":"Oh good, it's our favorite symphony!!"}]

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Cowboy State Daily is Wyoming’s largest newspaper with Wyoming’s most experienced journalists. 

<title>You Still Here? Saturday, October 14, 2023 | Cowboy State Daily</title>

Oh good, it's our favorite symphony!!

You Still Here? Saturday, October 14, 2023

Headshot of Cowboy State Daily reporter, Jackie Dorothy.

Jackie Dorothy

Wyoming Life

Around Wyoming

Wyoming's oil boom in the late 1800s quickly became a frontier land war as former gunmen, prospectors and even nobles from Europe converged on the Salt Creek and Teapot Dome oil fields near Casper.

The cowboys of the Hole-in-the-Wall area were just learning their outlaw trade when the first oil claim had been made in the Salt Creek oil field. 

In the fall of 1889, an oil baron from Pennsylvania, Mark Shannon, known to his associates as a successful wildcatter, producer and promoter, saw the possibilities in the land that the cattle barons had scorned. 

Shannon had started secretly drilling the first well the year the Johnson County War was first erupting. 

While the cattlemen saw nothing in the sparse grasslands, alkali creeks and oil film on the soda lakes, Shannon saw a fortune to be made in oil, according to Ed Bille who grew up in the oil fields during the 1920s Teapot Dome Scandal. 

Bille documented these early days of lawlessness in his 1978 book, “Early Days at Salt Creek and Teapot Dome.”

“When the well came in, the derrick was fenced and guarded and an air of secrecy hung over the project for a few months,” Bille wrote. “The reason given was that Shannon wanted to be sure of a clear title to the land.”

In the days before the automobile became commonplace, Shannon hauled his oil to Casper by wagons using 12 to 18 horses. 

The string teams would then return with a load of supplies while people wondered out loud what this oil was even good for. Hundreds of barrels of the black gold went unused for those first decades, and newspapers lamented the waste. 

In the meantime, there was plenty of scandal associated with those early days of the Teapot Dome and Salt Creek oil fields before the oil hit the fan in the 1920s.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Wildcatting"}]

Early day wildcatters were prospectors who took a string of tools and drilled for oil in places it was not known to exist. 

Bille said they came from all walks of life, including ranchers, doctors, lawyers and merchants. 

Those flocking to this new oil boom were also promoters, “fast-buck artists” and former outlaws, such as Butch Cassidy’s best friend Elzy Lay, who made his own claims in Wyoming oil fields after getting out of prison. 

Oil industry historian James A. Clark said that the wildcatter had to be gambler, trader and entrepreneur

“He had a lot of things the old gold miner had,” Clark said. “Many died poor, but a few hit it big.”

These oil pioneers quickly moved into the oil fields located at the southwest edge of the Powder River Basin.

“Land titles were often vague, unstable, and insecure, and claim jumping was a fact of life in the Salt Creek Field from its beginning until the Leasing Act became law in 1920,” Bille wrote.

A location notice filed in the county records would supposedly hold the land for a year. Oil prospectors had to dig or drill a hole in what was called “validating the claim.” Sometimes, three men operating a spring pole outfit could put down three or four validating holes in a day.

Havoc reigned in the oil field as men argued who had the right to the land. 

Confrontations, threats, and violence were common during these early years. 

Often, these arguments were settled by the one who had the quickest draw and was best at handling his gun.

This alkali land, forsaken by stockmen, was soon eyed by nobility of the old world, according to Bille. 

Promoters had brought Wyoming oil to national and international attention by the early 1900s, and a large number of European investors were attracted by the growing realization of oil potential in the Salt Creek area. European  barons and princes began to invest in the development.

At the end of 1903, Shannon sold his entire Wyoming properties — refinery, wells, placer claims — for $350,000 to a group of Europeans. That would be about $13.2 million today.

This set off a fierce rivalry that was fought from 1905-1910 between the Holland-owned “Wyoming Syndicate” and local investors.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Hired Guns"}]

Land titles in Salt Creek and Teapot Dome were confusing and unsecured, so many wildcatters and oil companies hired gunmen, known as line riders, to protect their claims.

“Line riders were men of nerve, and they put up a fight for their companies equal to the fights on the range made in the earlier days by the cowboys for what they considered their rights,” wrote Harold Roberts in his book “Salt Creek.”

 in 1910-1920 only slightly deviated from a decade before when differences were frequently settled with .45-caliber revolvers and Winchester rifles. 

During these early gold rush days in Wyoming, it was not uncommon for owners and claim jumpers to mysteriously vanish.

Bille said that reputations had been built during that outlaw time. Oil field claimants were thus more likely to back down in the face of a gun held by someone who was known to have used it in the recent past against horse rustlers.

Early cowboys and gunmen, such as William “Missou” Hines, were hired and well-known for quickness and accuracy with a gun. Hines, who became a line rider in the 1910s, was an example of what the lawless Wyoming oil fields had become.

Dan Adamson, a cattleman from Nebraska, wrote in the Jan. 1, 1934, Omaha Daily Journal/Stockman that Missou was known to whip out his gun and shoot at even his friends for sport. 

[{"type":"text","text":"Adamson said that became known as a “Missou joke.\""}]

When the town of Casper was still young, Missou was riding down the street with his fellow cowhand, Texan Charley "Red River" Stuart. 

Adamson said that Missou pointed out that Red River was riding a horse with a reputation as a hard bucker and asked if Red River could really ride such a horse.

[{"type":"text","text":"“You bet your life; every jump in the road!\" Red River responded."}]

Missou promptly whipped out his gun and shot under the horse's nose. The old bucker went after Red River in earnest and threw him off in the street.

Another time, Adamson said a magician was performing in Casper and claimed that he could catch a bullet shot from a pistol in his mouth.

“Of course this was hooey as his partner in the audience was supposed to do the shooting, changing to a blank cartridge,” Adamson said.

Just as the head performer got through with his explanation, Missou got his gun out and hollered, "Are you ready?"

“The fellow took one look at Missou and bolted for the door, but Missou punctured his coat tail as he went out,” Adamson said.

Missou was first hired to guard the oil fields by engineer William Fitzhugh, described as a fiery tempered, capable, energetic person who could be both generous and very difficult to deal with. 

Fitzhugh hired Missou to keep trespassers off the field and discourage the jumping of his claims by others, Bille wrote.

Fitzhugh also took the fight to the courts because he openly had plans to “jump” every claim in the field and take the entire Salt Creek area. 

He believed that the titles which others had were no good and promptly filed on all of it and started drilling wells to acquire title. He clashed with representatives of the Dutch properties, The Midwest Co., and others.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Evicting Squatters"}]

Since much of the land in the Salt Creek area was public domain, homesteaders could settle the area as “mineral claims” or “desert claims.” They just had to do a certain amount of assessment work to get a patent to the land.

With the new developments, and new strikes in different sands, much of the alkali flats became valuable oil land. Squatters subsequently settled on some of that land in an effort to lay claim to it.

“Many of these squatters, attempting to establish holdings in the oil fields, were attacked and beaten,” Bille wrote. “In some cases, contestants moved in with teams of four and six horses, and plenty of strong-arm help, and moved the squatters’ shacks.”

While there was the threat of serious trouble hanging in the air, most of these eviction events occurred without major incident. In fact, as the horses dragged away the shacks, large crowds would gather to watch.  

Eventually, the oil field was mostly under the domain of Midwest, which had won the right to most of the land in Salt Creek and Teapot Dome through strong armed tactics.

However, even as Missou and other hired guns began hauling freight instead of flashing their rifles, trouble of another kind was ahead for the infamous fields of Salt Creek and Teapot Dome.

Corrupt politicians had also seen the potential of the oil-rich area as oil became more in demand. The fight for control of the Salt Creek and Teapot Dome oil fields soon drew the attention of the world. 

However, those who once patrolled the oil fields knew that the 

was not the beginning, but only the continuation of a fight that had been going on for decades in the lawless land of Wyoming. 

Teapot Rock inset Getty 6 21 26

<title>Teapot Dome Oil Fields Were Plenty Scandalous Before Historic Scandal Of 1920s | Cowboy State Daily</title>

Years before armed Marines invaded Wyoming and a cabinet secretaries went to prison for the Teapot Dome scandal of the 1920s, those same oil fields were already plenty scandalous. Arguments over land were often settled by whoever had the quickest draw.

Teapot Dome Oil Fields Were Plenty Scandalous Before Historic Scandal Of 1920s

Headshot of Cowboy State Daily reporter, Dale Killingbeck

Dale Killingbeck

He drove a public bus in Casper in the 1920s and also took the wheel of trucks hauling contraband booze.

By the 1930s his two-bit criminal history in central Wyoming morphed into big-time felonies that made front-page headlines. 

In 1936, Harry Campbell hit the FBI’s most-wanted list as “public enemy No. 2” just behind his friend and partner in crime Alvin Karpis, the leader of the Karpis-Barker gang.

Campbell’s crime career ended with a life sentence at Alcatraz for his role in the kidnapping of a Minnesota brewery heir in 1934. 

But before he arrived at “The Rock” he, with Karpis, successfully escaped an FBI arrest in a hail of machine-gun bullets.

When the FBI finally put Campbell in cuffs for his role in the kidnapping, the raid was led by storied Director J. Edgar Hoover. 

The Casper Tribune-Herald reminded every one of Campbell’s ties to the region.

“Former Casper Man Seized In Toledo Today,” the paper reported on May 7, 1938. “Companion of Karpis Once Drove Bus to Evansville.”

Harry Campbell began life as a New Year’s baby in a new century, on Jan. 1, 1900, in McClintocksville, Pennsylvania. 

He was the fifth of seven children born to George and Melissa Campbell. By the second decade of his life, his family moved to Oklahoma, and it was in Tulsa where his bad seeds were initially sown.

FBI documents on the Barker gang state that Campbell grew up knowing the infamous brood and their mother, Kate “Ma” Barker.

“Many of the sons of Kate Barker became associates of these boys in their later lives,” states the file dated Nov. 19, 1936. “Harry Campbell and Volney Davis matured and grew up with the sons of Kate Barker, and in later years they collectively engaged in lives of crime.”

The file states that Campbell became a prominent member of the gang.

Reflecting on Campbell’s life of crime, The Tulsa World reported on May 8, 1936, that he was first arrested for vagrancy in the city on Dec. 25, 1920, and again on June 11, 1921, for bank robbery. 

He was sent to prison, but a few months later was acquitted and released.

Within the next two years, Campbell moved to the Casper region, first working the Salt Creek oil fields and then from 1923-1924 driving a bus between Casper and Evansville.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Transporting Booze"}]

The Casper Tribune-Herald reported on May 7, 1936, about how Campbell’s wayward nature continued to find opportunities in his new state.

“He gained a livelihood, police recall, from hauling truckloads of contraband liquor. Those were prohibition days, and on several occasions he ran afoul of the law because of his rum-running activities,” the newspaper reported. “He was arrested by Detective Miller in 1924 on a possession of whiskey charge.” 

But Campbell’s criminal ways meant he was never long in one region.

In August 1932, Campbell and Fred Barker were being sought for the murder J. Earl Smith, a Tulsa lawyer who had represented both men. 

Smith had told his wife that he was going to meet men to receive some money for his services. 

Campbell made the appointment to see Smith and had a dispute with the attorney about charges for his representation on a burglary charge. 

Smith’s body and bullet-riddled car were found outside Tulsa.

In August 1933, Campbell was sought in Oklahoma along with two others for the May 11 murder of a truck driver who tried to stop a safe robbery at a trucking firm.

In September 1933, FBI files state that Campbell was recruited by the Barker gang to St. Paul, Minnesota, and he brought along his second wife, Wynona Burdette, from Oklahoma. 

From Minnesota, the gang drove to Reno, Nevada, to meet with others, gamble and drink.

By late December they returned to Minnesota, and late in the month decided to kidnap Edward George Bremer, a St. Paul bank president and son of the owner of the Schmidt beer brewery. 

The plan was tentatively called off after two members left a kidnap planning session and shot and wounded a Northwest Airways employee who was wearing a uniform and mistaken for a cop.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"The Kidnapping"}]

By Jan. 17, 1934, plans were back on, and Campbell and Karpis were among five gang members watching for Bremer to drop off his daughter at school. 

When his car pulled up at a stop sign a half-block away after depositing her, a gang member stepped up to Bremer’s door with a gun, told him to move over.

Asecond gang member opened the right-side door, struck him in the head several times and shoved him on the floor, FBI files state.

Bremer’s car, followed by the remaining kidnappers, took off. Hoover later claimed it was Karpis and Campbell who initially grabbed him.

The kidnapping resulted in a $200,000 ransom payment with the serial numbers of the cash recorded by the FBI and later shared with banks across the country.

In its 1936 story, The Casper Herald-Tribune reported that Campbell and Karpis had visited Casper two years earlier in summer 1934 as the heat from law enforcement for the kidnapping made life harder elsewhere in the country.

The newspaper recounted how Campbell was seated at an “inconspicuous table” in a Casper night club and enjoying a drink and music trying to avoid attention. 

A former girlfriend reportedly walked up, called him by name and asked, “Where have you been keeping yourself?”

Campbell exchanged pleasantries and quickly disappeared from the club, the newspaper reported.

“The ensuing hunt for him revealed he had a companion and that the companion was Alvin Karpis,” the newspaper reported.

After the kidnapping and subsequent manhunt, the Casper paper noted that local law enforcement had been watchful for any appearance of Campbell in the region.

“Vigilance had been especially keen in recent weeks as the dragnet closed in on him and Karpis,” the newspaper reported.

When Fred Barker and Kate Barker were killed in a shootout with the FBI in January 1935, Campbell and Karpis were tracked to a hotel in Atlantic City. 

Campbell’s wife had been released by Oklahoma authorities with a promise from her brother that she would lead authorities to Campbell.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"The Shootout"}]

According to news reports, Campbell’s wife Burdette, aka Louise Campbell, and Karpis’ girlfriend traveled from Florida to join them. 

Some news reports state they tipped off authorities as to who was in the room next door.

When federal agents surrounded the motel room and banged on the door, news stories declared that Karpis sent a stream of bullets through it. 

Then Karpis, wearing trousers, slippers and overcoat, and Campbell with a pistol in his underwear, ran out the door as police returned fire. 

The pair stole a car and then engaged in a running gun battle with police as they gave chase.

“The bandits jumped into a coupe owned by Mrs. Harold Brand, and with Karpis lying on the running board and pumping shots from his machine gun, they drove out Kentucky Avenue,” the Press of Atlantic City reported on Jan. 21, 1935. 

“Store fronts and small hotels on Kentucky Avenue bore marks of the battle as the guns of the fleeing mobsters and police revolvers raked the entire section,” the story addded.

Karpis and Campbell escaped, ditched the car, kidnapped a man and stole his car, and then released him.

Karpis in his autobiography told a different story, writing that he and Campbell were in rooms individually with their women.

When the cops banged on the door, it was Campbell who opened up with the machine gun. No one was on the sideboard. He drove and Campbell fired at cops out of the back window.

The pair ended up in Toledo, Ohio, under assumed names. 

They recruited a couple of other criminals to join them and robbed a mail truck in Warren, Ohio, of $72,000. Two other known criminals were arrested, charged, and convicted, the FBI file states.

But a continued investigation showed Karpis and Campbell were responsible.

Meanwhile, Campbell married a 19-year-old girl named Gertrude as he used the name Clarence C. Miller on May 29, 1935.

On Nov. 7, 1935, five armed men with two machine guns, a shotgun and automatic pistols robbed a train in Garrettsville, Ohio, as it went from Detroit to Pittsburgh. 

Once again, Karpis and Campbell were leading the group, the FBI file states.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"But the law was closing in on them. "}]

They separated and Campbell stayed in Ohio under his assumed name and Karpis went south. 

Karpis was finally arrested on May 1, 1936, in New Orleans, Louisiana, and Hoover made sure he was present.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"The Arrest"}]

Six days later, agents closed in on Campbell in Toledo.

The FBI file states that at daybreak on May 7, 1936, agents raided his apartment and arrested him. Under his pillow was a .45-caliber Colt automatic pistol.

Headlines across the nation proclaimed the arrest. Hoover had flown to Cleveland to be on hand to bring him in.

Oklahoma prosecutors conceded that Hoover had a stronger case linking Campbell to the Bremer kidnapping than they had linking him to the 1932 murder of the attorney Smith.

Federal agents flew Campbell to Minnesota to face charges.

Campbell’s mother told the Tulsa Tribune for its May 7, 1936, edition that her son “has been a heartbreak to us.”

His parents and other siblings were described as “law abiding” and “mighty nice people” by a local Tulsa police detective.

Once in court on May 12 in Minneapolis, Campbell pleaded guilty to driving the kidnap car that took Bremer to the hideout and for guarding him for 21 days and then taking him to the place where he was released.

The Minneapolis Star Tribune reported on May 13 that the federal prosecutor said Campbell’s split of the ransom money was only $6,000 to $7,000. 

The judge asked him if there was any reason that he shouldn’t sentence him that day.

“No,” the paper reported Campbell stated.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"He got a life sentence."}]

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Alcatraz"}]

The Winona Daily News reported on May 15, 1936, that he was shackled and taken secretly to Leavenworth by federal marshals and FBI agents.

“Campbell, federal authorities admitted, undoubtably will be taken to Alcatraz Prison in San Francisco Bay,” the newspaper reported.

Online federal prison records for Alcatraz list him as prisoner No. 322 having been sent there from Leavenworth. 

The record describes Campbell as “of the vicious type and his past record is a definite indication that would not hesitate from using violence in order to obtain his freedom … committee recommends maximum supervision.”

The federal prison record states that Campbell had a daughter with his second wife “of whom he is very fond.”

“In all probability his asocial activities were conditioned by associates and environmental influences,” his record states. “He has always been an oil field worker but was unemployed for three years prior to his arrest.”

Campbell’s potential parole date was May 11, 1951. Where and when he was released from prison is unknown. 

A search for information about his life after prison was unsuccessful.

The website Find a Grave states that Campbell died in Amarillo, Texas, on Nov. 20, 1974. He was buried after a gravesite service in Rose Hill Memorial Park in Tulsa.

Campbell and Alcatraz 6 21 26

<title>From Casper To Alcatraz: Former Bus Driver Hit No. 2 On FBI’s Most Wanted List | Cowboy State Daily</title>

A former Casper oil worker and bus driver in the 1920s careened into a life of crime with the infamous Karpis-Barker gang that included murders, kidnappings, and robberies. He was the FBI's No. 2 most-wanted before being caught and sent to Alcatraz.

From Casper To Alcatraz: Former Bus Driver Hit No. 2 On FBI’s Most Wanted List

Headshot of Cowboy State Daily's general assignment reporter, Clair McFarland.

Clair McFarland

Opinion

CSD Columnists

[{"type":"text","text":"My dad is a mechanic."}]

Sure he’s other things too: a husband, a father, grandfather, business owner.

But in the hierarchy of my mind, my dad is the Mechanic, and the Mechanic is king.

Since I was old enough to pedal a trike, I’ve always found a device between me and what I wanted to do.

I wanted to go places, so my dad had to patch my bike tubes. I wanted to ride our Yamaha three-wheeler up every hill in Fremont County; my dad had to replace spark plugs.  

My siblings and I wanted nice school clothes. Our dad welded together a trailer and fixed up an old Chevy truck so we could haul our lawn mowers around town and make money cutting grass.

When he wasn't at work he was flipping cars in our garage for extra money.

I always understood that if the devices functioned well, then we would be well.

So to me, the valiant man of our world is the one who makes things run, makes things last, makes things hold their purpose under pressure.

[{"type":"text","text":"That’s my dad."}]

He scans the world with both eyes and tests it with both ears. Ailing truck brakes and weak chassis designs hit him like bad notes hit a musician. 

The whole mettle of his being compels him to wrench the things back into harmony.

That’s not just some personal mandate. His internal design simply matches his function, like a well-built motorcycle:

[{"type":"text","text":"He is a fixer, so he fixes things."}]

 the function, as the good Lord and Soichira Honda intended.

[{"type":"text","text":"I don’t ride three-wheelers through the hills anymore. "}]

I’m not surrounded by the same gear-head, oil-rig-hand, farmer-rancher, make-things-go folk who thronged my upbringing once my parents bought the motorcycle shop.  

Now that I’m in the news business, I spend my days covering lawyers, politicians and public servants.

[{"type":"text","text":"But I’m still looking for mechanics."}]

The economist Thomas Sowell explained it better than I could, in his book “A Conflict of Visions.” He wrote that the true distinction in politics isn’t between the Left and the Right – but between the outcome-seeking people and the process-seeking people.

Some people in government want to get a quick fix for the problem of the day, and some want to improve the whole machine of government.

Sometimes we, as a society, find ourselves in a crisis. And we need a quick fix to some injustice.

But more often than we-the-people dare to realize, the quick fixes damage our whole civic machine, because they warp one of the arching principles that made the machine function beautifully in the first place.

As an example, let us say that the American government has functioned well because we don’t like to meddle in private contracts. But some crisis hits us, and we decide through our representatives that it’s OK to meddle in private contracts 

[{"type":"text","text":"And then again, for a different crisis."}]

[{"type":"text","text":"And again, for another."}]

Pretty soon, the government is meddling in all manner of contracts on a whim, and based on the favoritisms, personality clashes, and crises – real or contrived – in the fad and phase of each era.  

 crisis demanded that we depart from our civic-mechanical principles. And maybe you’re right – and we can debate that. Let our discourse fuel this combustion engine. 

But many public servants are the type who, faced with a broken dirt bike at a kids’ motorcycle race, would scoop up the bike in their arms, rush it over the finish line and say “Look! I won!”

No, silly. You were supposed to fix the bike so the next kid could ride it at the next race. This isn’t about you. It’s about the machine.

You were supposed to fix the machine so that any person of any level of mechanical aptitude could ride it without incident! Now get off the track before you become the grim inspiration for a new rear-brake design.

Clair McFarland writes, "To me, the valiant man of our world is the one who makes things run, makes things last, makes things hold their purpose under pressure. That’s my dad.”

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