Border Justice

Border Justice

Samples of Legal Wisdom Dispensed by Judge Roy Bean.

How a Bad Man From the Cherokee Nation was Suppressed.

Reminiscences of a Unique Character.

When Judge Roy Bean of Langtry, Tex., died the other day the most noted exponent of the majesty of the law in the southwest passed to his reward.

Like other pioneer statesmen and "first citizens", he ran a saloon. It was called the Jersey Lily and was a popular institution in Langtry, a one street frontier town nestling in a deep canyon of the Rio Grande where the railroad crosses the big river.

A favorite method of punishing offenders in ordinary cases was requiring them to pay their fines by purchasing beer at the Jersey Lily saloon and treating the crowd. Two dozen bottles of beer was a moderate fine.

A noted story of Judge Bean's early career is thus narrated by Major Horace Bell in his "Reminiscences of a Ranger." It concerns California in the fifties:

While the celebration was at its height a smooth faced young man of exceedingly polite and graceful demeanor rode up, dismounted and entered Roy Bean's saloon. The newcomer leaned against the bar and carelessly surveyed the scene. While quietly looking on he was roughly accosted by a ruffianly looking man, who, taking a position directly in front of the young fellow and surveying him from head to foot, said, with a contemptuous grin:

"Well, where in thunder did you come from?"

"Why, I just arrived from Los Angeles."

The quiet demeanor of the young man enraged the bully, and he became still more overbearing, declaring himself "the wild wolf of the Arkansas."

"I was the bloodiest man in the Cherokee Nation," said he. " I am a half breed Cherokee, I am, and I belong to the Ridge party. I killed three Mexicans on my way out here. I killed a soldier at Fort Yuma, and I've been here three weeks and ain't killed anybody yet. I'm going to give these Mexicans a chance to have a funeral, and if you open your mouth I'll kill you."

Roy Bean was watching the proceedings from behind the bar. His sympathies were with the young man, and he quietly slipped a small derringer into his hand. The youth secreted the weapon, and when the bully resumed his insulting remarks and threats his coolly looked at him and said:

"You are not dangerous, and I don't think you will hurt me."

Then the storm broke. The bully jumped up and cracking his heels, cried to the crowd:

"Get out of the way! I am going to shoot!"

A general rush was made for the doors, and as the desperado reached to draw his pistol, the young man, with a quick movement, placed the barrel of the derringer which he had been holding against the breast of the bully and said:

"My dear sir, hold up your hands or I will kill you."

The bully had found his master and mechanically obeyed the command.

"Now," said the young man, "unbuckle that belt and let your six shooter fall." The bully obeyed without a murmur.

"Hold your hand behind your back. I am going to hold the hot end of this cigar in your nose until it goes out. If you flinch or attempt to take it out I'll make a funeral for these Mexicans."

Stepping back to the bar, the young hero said:

"My name is Joe Stokes, and I can whip any man in California who doesn't like me. I like to 'lay' for such soft snaps as 'the wild wolf of the Arkansas.'"