Billy Connolly's Route 66_ The Big Yin on the Ultimate American Road Trip - Billy Connolly [61]
Springfield is an attractive little city, the third largest in Missouri, and for the first time I felt that I was bordering the Deep South of America. Towards Springfield’s centre, there are long avenues of large Victorian homes. With wicker porch swings on covered verandas, some of them look like southern plantation houses. It’s a relaxed, calm kind of place. But if you’re a cowboy at heart, which I am, it’s also a hugely significant place.
In 1865 a guy called James Butler Hickok was living in Springfield. Tall, lean and muscular, with long blond hair falling to his shoulders and two pistols shoved into his belt, Hickok looked like a Western hero straight out of central casting, particularly with the lawman’s badge pinned to his chest. We know him better as Wild Bill Hickok, although quite how they got that from James Butler, I don’t know. Nevertheless, in July 1865, Wild Bill did something that set a trend for decades to come.
The final shot of the Civil War had been fired only a month earlier when Wild Bill, who had fought on the Union side, came face to face with his arch enemy, a Confederate veteran called Davis Tutt. Even though they’d fought on opposite sides in the war, they’d originally been gambling buddies, but had fallen out over a woman called Susanna Moore. There were also suggestions that Hickok had dallied with Tutt’s sister, possibly fathering her illegitimate child. Whatever the cause, they now hated the sight of each other.
On 20 July, Hickok was playing poker when Tutt walked into Springfield’s Lyon House Hotel. Wild Bill was doing well, so Tutt started loaning money to the other gamblers and offering hints on how to beat him. It made no difference – Hickok’s winning streak continued and he had soon amassed more than two hundred dollars (several thousand dollars in today’s money), much of it straight from Tutt’s pocket. Remembering that Hickok owed him forty dollars for a horse trade, Tutt insisted that he repay it there and then. Hickok shrugged and handed over the money. Then Tutt demanded another thirty-five bucks, for a gambling debt. This time Hickok disputed the figure, saying he owed only twenty-five. A furious Tutt grabbed Hickok’s watch, which was lying on the table, pocketed it, and announced that he was keeping it as collateral. Faced with a room full of Tutt’s allies, Hickok reluctantly agreed, as long as Tutt didn’t wear the watch in public. That would have been a public humiliation, and retribution would have to be sought.
‘I intend wearing it first thing in the morning,’ said Tutt, with a sneer.
‘If you do, I’ll shoot you,’ Wild Bill replied calmly. ‘I’m warning you here and now not to come across that town square with it on.’
The following day Wild Bill came round the corner into Springfield’s town square to find Tutt swanning around, asking people if they wanted to know the time. Flaunt, flaunt, flaunt.
Wild Bill warned Tutt to cut it out, but Tutt ignored him. They attempted to reach an agreement over the outstanding debt, but failed. After a drink, they parted.
Later that day, shortly before 6 p.m., Hickok returned to the square, this time with a pistol in his hand. Onlookers scattered, leaving Tutt standing on his own in the far corner of the square.
‘Dave, here I am,’ shouted Hickok from a distance of about seventy-five yards. ‘Don’t you come across here with that watch.’
Hickok had cocked his pistol and returned it to his hip holster. Tutt stood his ground with a hand on his own pistol, silent. For a few seconds, the two men faced each other down. Then Tutt pulled his pistol from its holster. Hickok drew his gun too, steadied it on his forearm and fired at exactly the same moment as Tutt. Wild Bill’s bullet hit Tutt in the