MONTGOMERY COUNTY, KANSAS

DALTON GANG


The Daltons
transcriped by Janice Rice

The Dalton Family

  The Dalton family lived in lower Kansas, near Coffeyville, which was situated almost directly upon the border of the Nations. They engaged in farming, and indeed two of the family were respectable farmers near Coffeyville within the last three or four years. The mother of the family still lives near Oklahoma City, where she secured a good claim at the time of the opening of the Oklahoma lands to white settlement. The father, Lewis Dalton, was a Kentucky man and served in the Mexican war. He later moved to Jackson county, Missouri, near the home of the notorious James and Younger boys, and in 1851 married Adelaide Younger, they removing some years later from Missouri to Kansas. Thirteen children were born to them, nine sons and four daughters. Charles, Henry, Littleton and Coleman Dalton were respected and quiet citizens. All the boys had nerve, and many of them reached office as deputy marshals. Franklin Dalton was killed while serving as deputy United States marshal near Fort Smith, in 1887, his brother Bob being a member of the same posse at the time his fight was made with a band of horse thieves who resisted arrest. Grattan Dalton, after the death of his brother Franklin, was made a deputy United States marshal, after the curious but efficient Western fashion of setting dangerous men to work at catching dangerous men. He and his posse in 1888 went after a bad Indian, who, in the melee, shot Grattan in the arm and escaped. Grattan later served as United States deputy marshal in Muskogee district, where the courts certainly needed men of stern courage as executives, for they had to deal with the most desperate and fearless class of criminals the world ever knew. Robert R. Dalton, better known as Bob Dalton, served on the posses of his brothers, and soon learned what it was to stand up and shoot while being shot at. He turned out to be about the boldest of the family, and was accepted as the clan leader later on in their exploits. He also was a deputy United States marshal at the dangerous stations of Fort Smith and Wichita, having much to do with the desperadoes of the Nations. He was chief of the Osage police for some time, and saw abundance of violent scenes. Emmett Dalton was also possessed of cool nerve, and  was soon known as a dangerous man to affront. All the boys were good shots, but they seemed  to have cared more for the Winchester than the six-shooter in their exploits, in which they were perhaps wise, for the rifle is of course far the surer when it is possible of use; and men mostly rode in that country with rifle under leg. Uncle Sam is obliged to take such material for his frontier peace officers as proves itself efficient in serving processes. A coward may be highly moral, but he will not do as a border deputy. The personal character of some of the most famous Western deputies would scarcely bear careful scrutiny, but the government at Washington is often obliged to wink at that sort of thing. There came a time when it remained difficult longer to wink at the methods of the Daltons as deputies. In one case they ran off with a big bunch of horses and sold them in a Kansas town. On account of this episode, Grattan, William, and Emmett Dalton made a hurried trip to California. Here they became restless, and went back at their old trade, thinking that no one even on the Pacific Slope had any right to cause them fear. They held up a train in Tulare county and killed a fireman, but were repulsed. Later arrested and tried, William was cleared, but Grattan was sentenced to twenty years in the penitentiary. He escaped from jail before he got to the penitentiary, and rejoined Emmett at the old haunts in the Nations, Emmett having evaded arrest in California. The Southern Pacific railway had a standing offer of $6,000 for the robbers at the time they were killed. The Daltons were now more or less obliged to hide out, and to make a living as best they could, which meant by robbery. On May 9, 1891, the Santa Fe train was held up at Wharton, Oklahoma Territory, and the express car was robbed, the bandits supposedly being the Daltons. In June of the following year another Santa Fe train was robbed at Red Rock, in the Cherokee strip. The 'Frisco train was robbed at Vinita, Indian Territory. An epidemic of the old methods of the James and Younger bands seemed to have broken out in the new railway region of the Southwest. The next month the Missouri, Kansas and Texas train was held up at Adair, Indian Territory, and a general fight ensued between the robbers and the armed guard of the train, assisted by citizens of the town. A local physician was killed and several officers and citizens wounded, but none of the bandits was hurt, and they got away with a heavy loot of the express and baggage cars. At Wharton they had been less fortunate, for though they killed the station agent, they were rounded up and one of their men, Dan Bryant, was captured, later killing and being killed by United States deputy Ed. Short, as mentioned in an earlier chapter. Dick Broadwell joined the Dalton gang about now, and they nearly always had a few members besides those of their own family; their gang being made up and conducted on much the same lines of the James boys gang of Missouri, whose exploits they imitated and used as text for their bolder deeds. In fact it was the boast of the leader, Bob Dalton, in the Coffeyville raid, that he was going to beat anything the James boys ever did: to rob two banks in one town at the same time. Bank robbing was a side line of activity with the Daltons, but they did fairly well at it. They held up the bank at El Reno, at a time when no one was in the bank except the president's wife, and took $10,000, obliging the bank to suspend business. By this time the whole country was aroused against them, as it had been against the James and Younger boys. Pinkerton detectives had blanket commissions offered, and railway and express companies offered rewards running into the thousands. Each train across the Indian Nations was accompanied for months by a heavily armed guard concealed in the baggage and express cars. Passengers dreaded the journey across that country, and the slightest halt of the train for any cause was sure to bring to the lips of all the word of fear, "the Daltons!" It seems almost incredible of belief that, in these modern days of fast railway service, of the telegraph and of rapidly increasing settlements, the work of these men could so long have been continued; but such, nonetheless, was the case. The law was powerless, and demonstrated its own unfitness to safguard life and property, as so often it has in this country. And, as so often has been the case, outraged society at length took the law into its own hands and settled the matter. The full tale of the Dalton robberies and murders will never be known, for the region in which they operated was reticent, having its own secrets to protect; but at last there came the climax in which the band was brought into the limelight of civilized publicity. They lived on the border of savagery and civilization. Now the press, the telegraph, the whole fabric of modern life, lay near at hand. Their last bold raid, therefore, in which they crossed from the country of reticence into that of garrulous news gathering, made them more famous than they had ever been before. The raid on Coffeyville, October 5, 1892, both established and ended their reputation as desperadoes of the border. The rumor got out that the Daltons were down in the Nations, waiting for a chance to raid the town of Coffeyville, but the dreaded attack did not come off when it was expected. When it was delivered, therefore, it found the town quite unprepared. Bob Dalton was the leader in this enterprise. Emmett did not want to go. He declared that too many people knew them in Coffeyville, and that the job would  prove too big for them to handle. He consented to join the party, however, when he found Bob determined to make the attempt in any case. There were in the band at that time Bob, Emmett, and Grattan Dalton, Bill Powers and Dick Broadwell. These lay in rendezvous near Tulsa, in the Osage country, two days before the raid, and spent the night before in the timber on Onion creek, not far below town. They rode into Coffeyville at half-past nine the following morning. The street being some what torn up, they turned aside into an alley about a hundred yards from the main street, and, dismounting, tied their horses, which were thus left some distance from the banks, the First National and the bank of C. M. Condon & Co., which were the objects of their design. Grattan Dalton, Dick Broadwell and Bill Powers stepped over to the Condon bank, which was occupied at the time by C. T. Carpenter, C. M. Ball, the cashier, and T. C. Babb, a bookkeeper. Grattan Dalton threw down his rifle on Carpenter, with the customary command to put up his hands; the others being attended to by Powers and Broadwell. Producing a two- bushel sack, the leader ordered Carpenter to put all the cash into it, and the latter obeyed, placing three thousand dollars in silver and one thousand in currency in the sack. Grattan wanted the gold, and demanded that an inner safe inside the vault should be opened. The cashier, Ball, with a shifty falsehood, told him that they could not open that safe, for it was set on a time lock, and no one could open it before half-past nine o'clock. He told the outlaw that it was now twenty minutes after nine (although it was really twenty minutes of ten) ; and the latter said they could wait ten minutes. He was, however, uneasy, and was much of the mind to kill Ball on the spot, for he suspected treachery, and knew how dangerous any delay must be. It was a daring thing to do to sit down in the heart of a civilized city, in broad daylight and on the most public street, and wait for a time lock to open a burglar-proof safe. Daring as it was, it was foolish and futile. As the robbers stood uneasily guarding their prisoners, the alarm was spread. A moment later firing began, and the windows of the bank were splintered with bullets. The robbers were trapped, Broadwell  being shot through the arm, probably by P. L. Williams from across the street. Yet they coolly went on with their work as they best could, Grattan Dalton ordering Ball to cut the string of the bag and pour out the heavy silver, which would have encumbered them too much in their flight. He asked if there was not a back way out, by which they could escape. He was shown a rear door, and the robbers stepped out, to find themselves in the middle of the hottest street fight any of them had ever known. The city marshal, Charles T. Connolly, had given the alarm, and citizens were hurrying to the street with such weapons as they could find at the hardware stores and in their own homes. Meantime Bob and Emmett Dalton had held up the First National Bank, ordering cashier Ayres to hand out the money, and terrorizing two or three customers of the bank who happened to be present at the time. Bob knew Thos. G. Ayres, and called him by his first name, "Tom," said he, "go into the safe and get out that money get the gold, too." He followed Ayres into the vault, and discovered two packages of $5,000 each in currency, which he tossed into his meal sack. The robbers here also poured out the silver, and having cleaned up the bank as they supposed, drove the occupants out of the door in front of them. As they got into the street they were fired upon by George Cubine and C. S. Cox; but neither shot took effect. Emmett Dalton stood with his rifle under his arm, coolly tying up the neck of the sack which held the money. They then both stepped back into the bank, and went out through the back door, which was opened for them by W. H. Shepherd, the bank teller, who, with Tom Ayres and B. S. Ayres, the bookkeeper, made the bank force on hand. J. H. Brewster, C. H. Hollingsworth and A. W. Knotts were in the bank on business, and were joined by E. S. Boothby; all these being left unhurt. The firing became general as soon as the robbers emerged from the two bank buildings. The first man to be shot by the robbers was Charles T. Gump, who stood not far from the First National Bank armed with a shotgun. Before he could fire Bob Dalton shot him through  the hand, the same bullet disabling his shotgun. A moment later, a young man named Lucius Baldwin started down the alley, armed with a revolver. He met Bob and Emmett, who ordered him to halt, but for some reason he kept on toward them. Bob Dalton said, "I'll have to kill you," and so shot him through the chest. He died three hours later. Bob and Emmett Dalton now passed out of the alley back of the First National Bank, and came into Union street. Here they saw George B. Cubine standing with his Winchester in his hands, and an instant later Cubine fell dead, with three balls through his body. Near him was Charles Brown, an old man, who was also armed. He was the next victim, his body falling near that of Cubine, though he lived for a few hours after being shot. All four of these victims of the Daltons were shot at distances of about forty or fifty yards, and with rifles, the revolver being more or less uncertain at such ranges even in practiced hands. All the gang had revolvers, but none used them. Thos. G. Ayres, late prisoner in the First National Bank, ran into a store near by as soon as he was released, caught up a Winchester and took a station near the street door, waiting for the bandits to come out at that entrance of the bank. Here he was seen by Bob Dalton, who had gone through the alley. Bob took aim and at seventy-five yards shot Ayres through the head. Friends tried to draw his body back into the store, but these now met the fire of Grattan Dalton and Powers, who, with the crippled Broadwell, were now coming out of their alleyway. T. A. Reynolds, a clerk in the same store, who went to the door armed, received a shot through the foot, and thus made the third wounded man then in that building. H. H. Isham, one of the owners of the store, aided by M. A. Anderson and Charles K. Smith, joined in the firing. Grattan Dalton and Bill Powers were shot mortally before they had gone more than a few steps from the door of the Condon bank. Powers tried to get into a door when he was shot, and kept his feet when he found the door locked, managing to get to his horse in the alley before he was killed by a second shot. Grattan Dalton also kept his feet, and reached cover back of a barn about seventy yards from Walnut Street, the main thorough- fare. He stood at bay here, and kept on firing. City marshal Connolly, carrying a rifle, ran across to a spot near the corner of this barn. He had his eye on the horses of the bandits, which were still hitched in the alley. His back was turned toward Grattan Dalton. The latter must have been crippled somewhere in his right arm or shoulder, for he did not raise his rifle to his face, but fired from his hip, shoot- ing Connolly down at a distance of about twenty feet or so. There was a slight lull at this point of the street fight, and during this Dick Broadwell, who had been wounded again in the back, crawled into concealment in a lumber yard near by the alley where the horses were tied. He crept out to his horse and mounted, but just as he started away met the livery man, John J. Kloehr, who did some of the best shooting re- corded by the citizens. Kloehr was hurrying thither with Carey Seaman, the latter armed with a shotgun. Kloehr fired his rifle and Sea- man his shotgun, and both struck Broadwell, who rode away, but fell dead from his horse a short distance outside the town. Bob and Emmett Dalton, after killing Cubine and Brown and shooting Ayres, hurried on to join their companions and to get to their horses. At an alleyway junction they spied F. D. Benson climbing out of a window, and fired at him, but missed. An instant later, as Bob stepped into full view of those who were  firing  from the Isham store, he was struck by a ball and badly wounded. He walked slowly across the alley and sat down on a pile of stones, but like his brother Grattan, he kept his rifle going, though mortally shot. He fired once at Kloehr, but was unsteady and missed him. Rising to his feet he walked a few paces and leaned against the corner of a barn, firing two more shots. He was then killed by Kloehr, who shot him through the chest. By this time Grattan Dalton was feebly trying to get to his horse. He passed the body of Connolly, whom he had killed, faced toward his pursuers and tried to fire. He, too, fell before Kloehr's Winchester, shot through the throat, dropping close to the body of Connolly. Emmett Dalton was now the only one of the band left alive. He was as yet unwounded, and he got to his horse. As he attempted to mount a number of shots were fired at him, and these killed the two horses belonging to Bob Dalton and Bill Powers, who by this time had no further use for horses. Two horses hitched to an oil wagon in the street were also killed by wild shots. Emmett got into his saddle, but was shot through the right arm and through the left hip and groin. He still clung to the sack of money they had taken at the First National Bank, and he still kept his nerve and his wits even under such pressure of peril. He might have escaped, but instead he rode back to where Bob was lying, and reached down his hand to help him up behind himself on the horse. Bob was dying and told him it was no use to try to help him.

  As Emmett stooped down to reach Bob's arm, Carey Seaman fired both barrels of his shotgun into his back, Emmett dropping near Bob and falling upon the sack, containing over $20,000 in cash. Men hurried up and called to him to throw up his hands. He raised his one unhurt arm and begged for mercy. It was supposed he would die, and he was not lynched, but hurried away to a doctor's office near by. In the little alley where the last scene of this bloody fight took place there were found three dead men, one dying man and one badly wounded. Three dead horses lay near the same spot. In the whole fight, which was of course all over in a few moments, there were killed four citizens and four outlaws, three citizens and one outlaw being wounded. Less than a dozen citizens did most of the shooting, of which there was considerable, eighty bullet marks being found on the front of the Condon bank alone. The news of this bloody encounter was instantly flashed over the country, and within a few hours the town was crowded with sightseers who came in by train loads. The dead bandits were photographed, and the story of the fight was told over and over again, not always with uniformity of detail. Emmett Dalton, before he was sent to the penitentiary, confessed to different crimes, not all of them hitherto known, which the gang had at different times committed. So ended in blood the career of as bloody a band as might well be discovered in the robber history of any land or time of the world. Indeed, it is doubtful if any country ever saw leagues of robbers so desperate as those which have existed in America, any with hands so red in blood. This fact is largely due to the peculiar history of this country, with its rapid development under swift modern methods of transportation. In America the advance to the westward of the fighting edge of civilization, where it meets and mingles with savagery, has been more rapid than has ever been known in the settlement of any country of the world. Moreover, this has taken place at precisely that time when weapons of the most deadly nature have been invented and made at a price permitting all to own them and many to become extremely skilled with them. The temptation and the means of murder have gone hand in hand. And in time the people, not the organized law courts, have applied the remedy when the time has come for it. Today the Indian Nations are no more than a name. Civilization has taken them over.

The Dalton Raid at Coffeyville
From the 1903 "History of Montgomery County Kansas"

Transcribed by Sheryl McClure


  In all the annals of crime in our country, few if any, events have furnished more dramatic incidents or created more of a sensation than the raid of the Daltons at Coffeyville, on the morning of Wednesday, October 5th, 1892. There have been other bank robberies where larger amounts of money have been at stake, and some in which better known bandits and outlaws have participated, but in the sanguinary nature of the struggle, the number of shots fired, and the victims on both sides, the Coffeyville affair must stand preeminent. The Dalton Gang," whose leaders organized and perpetrated this raid had already acquired an unenviable reputation as outlaws and train robbers, and were ready for any crime if the stakes were large enough. Three of the Dalton brothers, with two ordinary criminals of the sort that could be picked up almost anywhere in the Indian Territory, constituted the party. The Dalton family originally consisted of Lewis Dalton and his wife, whose maiden name was Adaline Lee Younger, and who was born in Cass County, Missouri, in the neighborhood whence came other Youngers, who achieved notoriety as bank robbers.

   They were the parents of thirteen children, of whom two died in infancy. The family were not strangers at Coffeyville, having settled in that vicinity in 1882 and remained there until the opening of Oklahoma in 1889. In fact, Lewis Dalton remained in this county until his death, at Dearing, in 1890. The rest of the family went to Oklahoma and took up claims. The old people seem to have been peaceable and law-abiding, but three of the boys became deputy United States marshals in the Indian Territory, one of them also serving for a short time as chief of police of the Osage Nation. Familiarity with crime and positions seems to have developed a passion for criminal adventure, which may have been also to some extent, a matter of heredity on their mother s side. Gratton, Emmet and Robert were the Daltons in the gang, and the two other members of the quintette who raided the Coffeyville banks were known as Bill Powers and Dick Broadwell. Robert, the leader of the gang, was only 22 years of age, while Emmet was a mere boy two years younger. Gratton was 31.

   The Daltons are credited with having stolen a herd of cattle in the territory about two years previous to the events to be here narrated, and so far as known, they took the first degree in outlawry at that time. In the early part of 1891, Gratton, William and Emmet Dalton were arrested for train robbery in Tulare county, California. Emmet escaped, William was acquitted, and Gratton was convicted and sentenced to twenty years in the penitentiary. He escaped from the county jail before being taken to Folsom, and there was a standing reward of $6,000 offered for Gratton and Emmet by the Southern Pacific Railway at the time these men met their fate at Coffeyville. In early 1891 there was a train robbery by masked men at Wharton, Indian Territory, on the Santa Fe Railroad; and in July of the same year another at Adair, on the Missouri Kansas & Texas, both of which were credited to the Daltons.

   On the morning of the Coffeyville raid, the five men mentioned were seen by several people riding toward that city, and they were taken, in every instance, for a United States Deputy Marshal and his posse. They came in on the main road from the west, turned south one block from the business part of town and hitched their horses in the alley running back from Slossen's drug store, which has since become famous as "the Alley of Death." They then started down the alley, Gratton, with Powers and Broadwell in front, and Emmet and Bob following. Next they crossed the sidewalk, on emerging from the alley, they passed within five feet of a citizen who was acquainted with them well enough to recognize them in spite of the disguises they had assumed on going into a locality where they were so well known. A moment later he saw the three men who were in front enter C. M. Condon & Co.'s bank and present a Winchester at the cashier's counter. He raised the alarm at once.

   Meantime the other two had crossed Union street and entered the First National bank. They were followed by some citizens who suspected their object and the alarm was speedily raised on the east side of the plaza, also. Immediately half a dozen men rushed to the hardware stores of Isham Bros. & Mansur and A. P. Boswell & Co., on the east side of Union street, and proceeded to provide themselves with rifles and ammunition, determined that the bank robbers should not get away if it was possible to prevent it.

   In Condon & Co.'s bank were C. T. Carpenter, one of the proprietors; Chas Ball, the cashier, and T. C. Babb, the bookkeeper. The leader of the raiders, Grat. Dalton, ordered the men behind the counter to throw up their hands; and on looking up from his work at the desk, Mr. Carpenter saw three Winchesters aimed at his head, and heard such reassuring words as these: We have got you, G-- d-- you! Hold up your hands,"

   As soon as Dalton had passed around into the inside of the enclosure at the bank, he ordered Mr. Ball to hold a grain sack he had brought with him, while Carpenter was told to put the money in the canvas sacks in the safe into it. There was $3,000 in silver in the three sacks, and when he had got that Dalton ordered Mr. Ball to open the burglar proof chest in the vault. Ball replied:

It is not time for it to open."
What time does it open?" asked Gratton.
Half past nine," answered Ball, guessing what o'clock it might be, sparring for time.
What time is it now?" queried the bandit.
Twenty minutes past nine." glibly answered Ball, looking at his watch.

   As a matter of fact, it was twenty minutes of ten, but Dalton did not know this and calmly proposed to wait until the chest could be opened. In a moment or two he began to suspect the truth and turned on Ball and cursed him and threatened to put a bullet through him. With the money from the counter the robbers now had $4,000, but the firing which had begun from the outside was getting so hot that the robbers ordered the sack carried into the back room, where the currency was sorted out and the silver left. The bankers and two customers who happened to be in when the raid was made, were lying on the floor now to escape the rain of bullets that came crashing through the plate glass. Broadwell had already received a bullet in the arm that disabled him, and the robbers made haste to get out into the street whence they had come.

   Meanwhile, a good deal had been happening at the First National across the street. Bob Dalton and Emmet entered here about the same time the other three men went into Condon's. They covered the cashier, Thomas G. Ayers, and the teller, W. H. Shepard, with their guns and ordered everyone present to hold up his hands. The men in the bank in front of the counter at the time were J. H. Brewster, the well known contractor, who built the county court house, A. W, Knotts, who was afterward deputy sheriff, and C. L. Hollingsworth. Leaving Emmet on guard in front, Bob went around to the rear and entered the private room, where he found Bert Ayres, the bookkeeper, and ordered him to go to the front and get the money on the counter. He then ordered the cashier to bring out the money that was in the safe, and not satisfied with what he got went into the vault himself and took two packages of currency containing five thousand dollars each and added them to the collection in his sack, which now amounted to $20,000. Ordering the bank force and customers out before them, the bandits started to go out the front door, but soon shots drove them back and they then retreated by a back door.

   Right at this time the murderous work began. So far, only two men had been wounded, Broadwell, on the inside of Condon's bank, and Charles T. Gump, who had taken a position outside of the First National with a gun ready to shoot at the robbers when they started out. Bob Dalton fired a shot which struck him in the hand and disabled him. When the two robbers emerged from the rear door of the First National, having the teller, Mr. Shepard with them, they came across Lucius L. Baldwin, a clerk from Reed Brothers' store. He was holding a revolver at his side and corning forward as if to join the others. Both the Daltons leveled their Winchesters at him and commanded him to stop. For some reason he failed to obey and kept moving toward them, Bob remarked, I'll have to get that man," and pulled the trigger which sent a bullet through Baldwin's breast near the heart. He was only about fifty feet away at the time. He was picked up by friends and carried away but only survived for about three hours.

   The Daltons ran north up the alley to Eighth street and turned west when they reached that street. When they got as far as Union Street on the east side of the Plaza, they looked down that street to the south and fired a couple of shots, apparently for the purpose of frightening their assailants away. By the time they had reached the middle of the street on their way across to the "Little block" in the center of the Plaza, they discerned George Cubine standing in the doorway of Rammel (Ramel?) Brothers' drug store, which adjoined the First National bank building on the north. He had a Winchester in his hand and was looking the other way, toward the door of the bank from which he was expecting to see the outlaws emerge. They each fired twice at him, and as the four shots rang out, he fell to the pavement lifeless, with one bullet through his heart, another through his left thigh and a third through his ankle. The fourth ball went astray and crashed through the plate glass window of the store behind him. Charles Brown, an old man whose place of business was next north of the drug store, rushed out to assist the fallen man; but seeing that he was dead, seized the Winchester Cubine had and turned it on his slayers. Four more deadly shots rang out from the bandits' guns, and Brown fell bleeding and dying. He survived three hours in dreadful agony and then passed away.

   These three murders had been committed in less time than it has taken to tell it. By this time the Daltons caught sight of another man who was watching the entrance of the bank, ready to fire when they should emerge. When turned out of the bank at the time the outlaws started to come out the front way, Cashier Ayres ran into Isham's hardware store, just to the south, and procured a Winchester, with which he took a position in the doorway, where he could command the entrance to the bank. As they were stepping up on to the sidewalk on the west side of Union street, and across the street from the Eldridge House, Bob took deliberate aim at Ayres, who was about seventy-five yards distant, and fired a bullet which struck him in the cheek, just below his left eye and came out at the back of his head near the base of the skull. He fell bleeding and unconscious and for days hung between life and death, but finally recovered.

   Just at this time, Gratton and his companions had reached the alley adjoining Slosson's store, up which they had left their horses, and before the prostrate form of Mr. Ayres could be removed they fired nine shots into the front of the building where he lay. Bob and Emmet proceeded west on Eighth street and were not noticed again until they reappeared near the junction of the two alleys, having come down back of Wells Brothers' store. Their escape would have been comparatively easy, had they not returned to that spot, but made a break for the open country and taken the first horse they came across.

   As it was, the whole force, of the bandit band was now gathered in what has since been known as "the Alley of Death," and there they all fell beneath the bullets of the volunteers for law and order, though not until another good citizen lost his life. For the facts thus far published we are indebted to the painstaking and carefully written work published by Colonel D. Stewart Elliott, of the Coffeyville Journal, entitled: "Last Raid of the Daltons;" and for the story of the concluding scenes of that raid we can do no better than to reproduce the chapter of that work on "The Alley of Death" almost verbatim.

   When the alarm was first given that the banks were being robbed, Henry Isham, the senior member of the firm of Isham Brothers & Mansur, was busy with a customer, as were two clerks in the store, Lewis T. Dietz and T. Arthur Reynolds. This store not only adjoined the First National bank on the south, but from its front a clear view is to be had across the Plaza and up the alley at the west side to which the Daltons first came and to which they finally retreated. Mr. Isham dismissed his customer, closed his safe, and, grasping a Winchester, stationed himself near a steel range in the front of the store where he could see all that was going on in the front part of Condon's bank. Dietz snatched a revolver and stationed himself close to Isham, while Reynolds, having observed the robbers enter the banks, was so eager to prevent their escape that he seized a Winchester, ran out upon the sidewalk and commenced firing upon the robber who was stationed near the southeastern door of the Condon bank. A shot from the latter's rifle struck some intervening ob¬ject and glanced and hit Reynolds on the right foot at the base of the little toe, coming out at the instep. He was the third man wounded in the store, and was now forced to leave the field. Indeed, with its blood¬ bespatteded floor, the store now began to look like a slaughter house or a section of a battle field. M. N. Anderson, a carpenter, who had been at work a couple of blocks away, now arrived and took the Winchester Rey¬nolds had dropped and stationed himself beside Isham, where he per¬formed valiant service until the close of the engagement. Charles K. Smith, a young man from a barber shop near Isham's store, also procured a Winchester and joined the forces in the hardware store in time to help exterminate the gang.

   From five to nine shots were fired by each man who handled a Winchester at this point. The principal credit, however, for the successful and fatal work done at the store was due to Mr. Isham. Cool and collected, he gave directions to his companions and at the same time kept his own gun at work.

   The moment that Grat. Dalton and his companions, Dick Broadwell and Bill Powers, left the Condon bank after looting it, they came under the guns of the men in Isham's store. Grat, Dalton and Bill Powers each received mortal wounds before they had gone twenty steps. The dust was seen to fly from their clothing, and Powers in his desperation at¬tempted to take refuge in the doorway of an adjoining store, but the door was locked and no one answered his request to be let in. He kept his feet and clung to his Winchester until he reached his horse, when another ball struck him in the back and he fell dead at its feet. Grat. Dalton, getting under cover of an oil tank which had been driven into the alley just about the time the raid was made, managed to reach the side of a barn on the south side of the alley, about two hundred feet from Walnut street. The point where he stopped was out of the range of the guns at Isham's on account of an intervening outside stairway. He stood here for a few minutes firing wild shots down the alley toward the Plaza.

   About this time John J. Kloehr, a liveryman, Carey Seaman and the City Marshal, Charles T. Connelly, who were at the south end of the Plaza, near Reeds' store, started up Ninth street so as to intercept the gang before they could reach their horses. Connelly ran across a vacant lot to an opening in the fence at the alley, right at the corner of the barn where Grat. Dalton was still standing. There he sprang into the alley, facing the west where the horses were hitched. This movement brought him with his back toward the murderous Dalton, who was seen to raise his Winchester to his side and, without taking aim, fired a shot into the back of the brave officer. Connelly fell forward on his face, within twenty feet of where his murderer stood. He breathed his last just as the fight ended.

   Dick Broadwell, in the meantime, had reached cover in the Long-Bell Lumber Company's yards, where he lay down for a few moments. He was wounded in the back. A lull occurred in the firing after Grat Dalton and Bill Powers had fallen. Broadwell took advantage of this and crawled out of his hiding place, mounted his horse and rode away. A bail from Kloehr's rifle, and a load of shot from a gun in the hands of Carev Scanlan, overtook him before he had ridden twenty feet. Bleeding and dying he clung to his horse and passed out of the city over a portion of the road by which the party entered it not more than twenty minutes before. His body was subsequently found by the roadside half a mile west of the city, and his horse with its trappings was captured near where he fell.

   Almost at the same moment that Marshal Connelly went down before the deadly rifle of Grat. Dalton, Bob and Emmet emerged from the alley by which they had left Eighth street in their effort to rejoin the rest of the party where their horses had been left. They had not met with any resistance in passing from where they had shot Cubine, Brown and Ayres, as the firing toward the south end of the Plaza had attracted general attention in another direction. The north and south alley through which they reached "the Alley of Death," has its terminus opposite the rear end of Slossin's store. When they reached the junction of the alleys, they discovered F. D. Benson climbing through a rear window with a gun in his hand. Divining his object, Bob fired at him point blank, at a distance of not over thirty feet. The shot missed. Bob then stepped into the alley and glanced up at the tops of the buildings as if he suspected the fusilade that was pouring into the alley came from that direction. As he did so, the men at Isham's took deliberate aim from their positions in the store and fired at him. The notorious leader of the Dalton gang evidently received a severe if not fatal wound at this time. He staggered across the alley and sat down on a pile of dressed curbstones near the city jail. Still true to his desperate nature, he kept his rifle in action and fired several shots from where he was sitting. His aim, though, was unsteady and the bullets went wild. While sitting on the rocks he espied John Kloehr on the inside of the fence near Slosson's store. He tried to raise his Winchester to his shoulder, but could not, and the shot intended for Kloehr struck the side of an outhouse and failed in its mission. Bob Dalton then made his supreme effort. He arose to his feet and sought refuge alongside of an old barn west of the city jail, and, leaning against the southwest corner of the building he brought his rifle into action again and fired two shots in the direction of his pursuers. They were his last shots. A ball from Kloehr's rifle struck him full in the breast and he fell over backward among the stones which covered the ground there, and which were reddened with his life blood.

   After shooting Marshal Connelly, Grat. Dalton made another attempt to reach his horse. He passed by his fallen victim, and had advanced probably twenty feet from where he was standing when he fired the fatal shot then turning his face to his pursuers he again attempted to use his Winchester. John Kloehr's rifle blazed out again now, and the oldest member of the band dropped with a bullet in his throat and a broken neck. He fell within a few feet of the dying marshal.

   Up to this time Emmet Dalton had managed to escape untouched. He kept under shelter after he reached the alley until he attempted to mount his horse. A half dozen rifles were then fired in his direction, as he undertook to get into the saddle. The two intervening horses belonging to Bob Dalton and Bill Powers were killed by some of the shots intended for Emmet; and the two horses attached to the oil tank-wagon being directly in range received fatal wounds. Emmet succeeded in getting into the saddle, but not until he had received a shot through the right arm and another through the left hip and groin. During all this time he had clung to the sack containing the money he had taken from the First National bank. And then, instead of riding off, as he might have done, Emmet boldly and courageously rode back to what he must have known was almost certain death and came up beside where Bob was lying and attempted to lift his dying brother onto the horse with him. "It's no use," faintly whispered the fallen bandit, and just then Carey Seaman fired the contents of both barrels of his shot-gun into Emmet's back, as he was leaning over the prostrate form of his leader and tutor in crime. The youthful desperado dropped from his horse and the last of the Dalton gang was helpless. In falling, the sack containing the twenty thousand dollars he had periled his soul and body to get went down with him, and he landed at the feet of his brother, Bob, who breathed his last a moment later.

   Citizens who had followed close after the robbers, and some of whom were close at hand when they fell, immediately surrounded their bodies. Emmet responded to the command to hold up his hands by raising his uninjured arm and making a pathetic appeal for mercy. Lynching was suggested, but better councils prevailed and he was taken to the office of a surgeon, who dressed his wounds. He recovered with. the quick elasticity of youth and was taken to the jail at Independence, where, in the following March, he pleaded guilty to murder in the second degree and was sentenced to a ninety-nine years' term in the penitentiary, ten of which he has already served. His aged mother is untiring in her efforts to secure pardon and freedom for her wayward boy, but no governor has yet dared to brave the indignation of the friends of the victims of the raid by granting her prayer.

   Less than fifteen minutes had elapsed from the time the raiders entered the banks until four of them were dead and the others helpless with wounds. And it was only twelve minutes from the firing of the first shot until the last one sounded the knell of the Dalton gang.

   Summarizing the reports, it appears that eighty bullet marks and numerous evidences of the impact of small shot were visible on the south front of Condon's bank when the battle ended. Not more than fifteen guns were actively engaged in the fight on both sides; and yet eight people were killed and three wounded. While all the citizens who were killed or wounded were armed, George Cubine was the only one of them who had fired a shot before being struck down, missing the scores of bystanders and onlookers about the Plaza, including many girls and little children, not one was struck by a short or bullet. It was war, a very sanguinary war, while it lasted, the percentage of victims to combatants being greater than in any battle that was not a massacre; but no wild shooting was done.

   While the people of Coffeyville wiped out the outlaw gang at a terrible cost of valuable lives, they insured their city against any more such visitations during the lifetime of the present generation, and conferred a service upon the state and upon society by demonstrating how risky and unprofitable such raids are likely to prove.



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