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THE "PO 8"

Summarized from the Time-Life Series on The Old West-Volume:The Exoressmen by Editor Theresa Lund

James B. Hume was the cigar loving, native of the Catskill Mountain area of New York who worked for Wells Fargo as Chief of Detectives. He shunned publicity, declined interviews and avoided the limelight. His most famous case involved a worthy adversary, who basked in the limelight, and who called himself the "PO 8" (poet) for the compositions he left in the treasure boxes he robbed. He never stole much, some 28 or 29 holdups produced ill-gotten gains of only $18,000, and not once did he do anyone physical harm.

The man who became known as Black Bart robbed his first stage July 26, 1875, near Copperopolis. As the stage , driven by John Shine, struggled to the top of a hill, a lone figure stepped into its path. He was armed with a double barrel shotgun and was wearing a flour-sack mask with cut eye-holes. He had on a long, soiled, white linen duster and had cloth wrapped around his boots. "Please throw down the box" he said politely. The treasure box was not bolted down, but Shine fumbled with it stalling for time. "If he dares to shoot, give him a solid volley boys" called the bandit over his shoulder. Shine looked and seeing several barrels aimed at him, hurriedly dropped the box. The bandit chopped it open and began stuffing bags of gold coins into the pockets of his duster. At one point, a frightened female passenger threw down her purse. The bandit paused, picked up the purse, handed it back and said grandly "Madam, I do not wish your money. In that respect, I honor only the good office of Wells Fargo". With that he finished emptying the strong box and waved the stage on. Later, Shine realized that the bandit had been alone when he learned that the weapons that had been aimed at him were only sticks, carefully aligned and tied in place.

In later robberies, Black Bart always used the same method of operation. He came out of the brush, at the top of a hill, on a lonely road. His appearance never varied, a flour-sack mask, a linen duster covering his clothing and concealing his build. His manner was calm and pleasant.

Bart added the touch that was to make him famous when he held up his third stage. This was on the road to Duncan near the Russian River. He left behind a one-stanza poem, written on a scrap of paper, each line in a different style of handwriting:

"I've labored long and hard for bread For honor and for riches But on my corns too long you've tread You fine haired Sons-of-Bitches"

It was signed "Black Bart, the PO 8". Now the bandit had a name and a personality. He became a celebrity and newsmen wrote about him often. Bart rewarded them with other bits of taunting messages for Wells Fargo that they could quote. He grew bolder, his string of holdups longer. They were unpredictable, sometimes months between robberies and once he struck two stages within 24 hours at two places thirty miles apart. He was inspired to torment Wells Fargo exclusively.

Detective Hume interviewed numerous ranchers and farmers who lived near the crime scenes. Gradually he pieced together the picture of a stranger who had been seen by many. He appeared to be a laborer passing through the area. He was erect, spare in frame, gray-haired, between 40-50 years of age and standing 5 feet 8 inches. His clothes were rough, his boots badly worn and slit to ease the pressure of corns. The stranger usually wore a derby hat and he carried a blanket roll that held his belongings. People liked him, families often invited him to eat, they enjoyed his conversation and interesting stories.

As Hume deduced, the stranger moved about the country easily. He was able to elude capture because he could cover great distances quickly. He never used a horse and never paused stayed overnight within twelve miles of a robbery. Once trackers followed him 60 miles through wilderness before they lost his trail.

Black Bart's downfall started on the same hill, near Copperopolis, where he staged his first robbery. A young man by the name of Jimmy Rolleri, who was going hunting, was riding on the box beside driver Reason McConnell. As the stage started up the hill. Jimmy dropped off to scout game and planning to meet the coach on the far side. Near the top of the hill, Bart stepped into the road, shotgun leveled at the driver. McConnell stopped. This time the treasure box was bolted to the floor. Bart ordered the driver to unhitch the horses and take them over the hill. The bandit then climbed into the coach to chop open the box.

By the time Bart finished, Jimmy had rejoined McConnell. The driver grabbed Jimmy's rifle and fired twice at the bandit as he backed out of the coach. McConnell missed both times, and Jimmy snatched his rifle back, fired and hit the fleeing bandit. Bart stumbled, but held onto the gold, regained his footing, and disappeared into the brush.

When Detective Hume arrived on the scene, he found the ground littered with field glasses, a derby hat, a razor and a knotted handkerchief filled with buckshot. He recognized them as belonging to Black Bart but found no clue as to his identity…until he saw that the handkerchief had a faint laundry mark: F. X. O. 7.

Hume checked laundries in dozens of towns before he found one in San Francisco that recognized the mark. It belonged to a prosperous mining man, Charles E. Bolton, who made regular trips to San Francisco and stayed at the Webb House Hotel. He was described as "elegantly dressed, carrying a little cane, and wearing a derby hat. He had a diamond pin, wore a large diamond ring on his little finger, and had a heavy gold watch and chain. He was about five feet eight inches in height, strait as an arrow, broad shouldered with deep sunk, bright blue eyes, high cheekbones and a large handsome gray mustache".

Wells Fargo Detective, Harry Morse, persuaded the laundry owner to accompany him to the hotel. As they approached, Bolton stepped out of the doorway and spoke to the laundryman, who introduced him to Morse. Later Morse said "One would have taken him for a gentleman who had made a fortune and was enjoying it. He looked anything but a robber."

"Black Bart", folk hero, was captured!. "Bolton" was really Charles E. Boles, a restless, ne'er-do0well who had left a wife and four children in the mid-west.

Boles was permitted to plead guilty to only one count of armed robbery. This was in consideration of his lack of violence and the return of most of the stolen gold. He was sentenced to six years in the State Penitentiary at San Quentin.

Diehard romantics continued to revere the bandit that "wounded" Wells Fargo's pride and kept "rubbing salt in the wound". The idea of one man outwitting a business colossus endeared him to everyman who worked for low wages while others grew rich. Still others chose to believe that the "real" Black Bart still roamed the forests and that every holdup by a lone bandit was his handiwork!