Black Bart, aka Charles E. Boles, was always a gentleman
Published 12:00 am Sunday, June 7, 2009
Black Bart was just a stage name — literally — for in his seven-year spree as a Western bandit he robbed 29 stagecoaches, from 1875 to 1882.
He was no ordinary thief, stealing only from Wells Fargo & Co. and from the United States Postal Service because he figured each had plenty of money and could afford to lose some.
He was a gentleman bandit, always gallant toward lady passengers and never cursing drivers and guards.
He neither smoked nor drank and never bothered the money or jewelry of passengers.
Wearing a duster to conceal his clothing and a flour sack with eye holes to cover his face, all he ever said was, “Throw down the box,” a wooden case containing the money. There was no accent, no hint of where he was from.
While other desperadoes might appear on fine horses, Black Bart was always on foot, brandishing a double-barrel shotgun, usually when the stagecoach had to slow down for a sharp curve or when going up a hill. He seemed to have planned each robbery in the same manner — casing the crime scene until he knew not only the stage’s schedule but also the lay of the terrain. He would establish a camp but left no clues, never even building a fire and never returning. He always broke open the money boxes with an old ax, and he slit the mail bags with a distinctive T-shaped cut.
It is thought he took his name from a story he read, and he signed “Black Bart” several times on bits of poetry he left behind. He was described by the chief of detectives of Wells Fargo as a man of “great endurance, a mountaineer, a remarkable walker,” and, because of his apparent speed, stamina and skill, he was tracked only once by a deputy who, after 6 miles, got a shot at the robber who then disappeared into the thick underbrush. Black Bart rambled all over northern California, from the Sierra Nevada to the Redwood Coast.
Only twice did Black Bart hold up a stage at the same place. Ironically, it was the site of his first robbery, and it also proved to be his last. It was in the mother lode on Funk Hill at a place called Copperpolis. There were no passengers or guards on Reason McConnell’s stagecoach — just boxes of cash. The driver had given a young deer hunter, Jimmy Rolleri, a ride. At one point, he jumped off the stage to hunt, thinking he would meet McConnell on the other side of a hill. Once he got there, he saw Black Bart hacking away at a strong box, and Rolleri aimed his Henry rifle at the bandit, nicking one of his knuckles. As Black Bart fled, he dropped a bundle of money — and a handkerchief.
It was the handkerchief that was his undoing, for it was found by a local sheriff who saw the laundry mark F.X.O.7 on it. There were 91 laundries in nearby San Francisco, and when the right one was found the sheriff waited until a middle-aged miner came in to pick up his laundry — with the telltale mark. After hours of interrogations, the man confessed, but only to the last robbery.
Being found guilty, he was sentenced to just seven years in San Quentin, and served over four and was then released because of good behavior. He was a model prisoner, working as a druggist for the prison’s doctor. While in jail, he wrote McConnell and Rolleri letters, praising the former for his good driving, but said he was unable to compliment Rolleri on his marksmanship. As far as is known, he never committed another crime. At any rate, he was never heard from again. He reportedly caught a ship for Japan in the 1890s.
He came into the world about as mysteriously as he left. He was born about 1832, either in Norfolk, England, or upstate New York. The names of his parents are not known. He had a wife named Mary and three children. Sometime before the Civil War, they moved to Decatur, Ill.
The late Paul Harvey in one of his fascinating accounts, “The Rest of the Story,” wrote of Black Bart that he never rode horses because he was afraid of them and, instead of being a young desperado, he was a middle-aged man who never fired a shot — because he never loaded his gun.
But there’s more to the story.
Black Bart’s real name was Charles E. Boles. He was a private in the 116th Illinois Infantry, Co. B.
You’ll find him listed at the Illinois Memorial Temple in the Vicksburg National Military Park. It was probably in the Union army that he learned to steal.
Gordon Cotton is an author and historian who lives in Vicksburg.