New information on Soap Gang member Joe Simmons (Josiah Boren Simmons)

Samuel Silas Simmons
1858 - 1924
Brother of Joe Simmons
Courtesy of Anne Simmons Wise

(Click image to enlarge)

 

 

he birth-name of Joe "Gambler Joe" Simmons was Josiah Boren Simmons.

     In researching Joe "Gambler Joe" Simmons for my book, Alias Soapy Smith: The Life and Death of a Scoundrel, I utilized Beth Simmons Jackson, the granddaughter of Joe Simmons, who helped round out Simmons' early history.

     On August 12, 2019, I received a welcomed email from Linda Jackson Rankin, the daughter of Beth Simmons Jackson, and great-granddaughter of Joe Simmons. She writes,

Hi,
     My name is Linda Jackson Rankin and my mother Beth Simmons Jackson contacted you a while ago regarding my great-Grandfather Joe Simmons. As you know, we have been trying for years to figure out where he came from. Thanks to Ancestry.com, I now believe I know! I searched for Joe Simmons and stumbled upon a person named “Josiah Boren Simmons” who was born in Smith, Texas, in 1860 and died in Creede, Colorado, in 1893. He was the youngest son of Caleb Woodson Simmons who was originally from Wilkes, GA. The Simmons family tree shows that they were early settlers in Surrey, VA, and Currituck County, NC. (1600s).
     Of course I was suspicious because this new information did not align with what we were told originally (German, father was a brewmaster from Wisconsin). The final confirmation was when I found out that I have DNA matches to people who are related to the Simmons family tree! So, now we know for certain where Joe Simmons came from. ...

If the information is correct, and it likely is, then Joe "Gambler Joe" Simmons was born Josiah Boren Simmons in 1860 or December 17, 1862, in Smith, Texas according to one Simmons family tree on Ancestry. Interesting to note that Joe was born in the same year as Soapy, when previously it was believed that Joe was older than Soapy. Smith, Texas, is about 250 miles from Round Rock, Texas, where the Smiths took up residence in 1876. In 1880 20-year-old Joe moved with his parents to Williams County, Texas, where in Round Rock, 20-year-old Jeff Smith may have still lived with his father and siblings, making it possible that the two young boys may have known one-another in Texas. Joe's father, Caleb Woodson Simmons II, died in Round Rock on November 26, 1881, so it is possible that they had lived there since 1880. The problem is that Soapy may have already moved on. He is believed to have operated in Ft. Worth by 1878-79 and to have visited Denver in 1879.


Linda continues,

     I would really like to know how Joe (and Soapy) ended up in Denver. After all, that appears to be where my Grandfather (William Edward Simmons) was born.
     If you have information on how Soapy (and possibly) Joe ended up in Denver, I would love to hear it.

All the best,

Linda (Jackson) Rankin

 I responded twelve days later.

August 24, 2019

Hi, Linda.
     First, allow me to apologize for my lateness in responding. It is certainly not because it isn't important to me.
     I remember your mother [Beth Simmons Jackson] very well. Mistakes in family research happen all the time. I have made numerous ones myself, and continue to do so.
     From what I am gathering from your email, Joe Simmons' birth name is Josiah Boren Simmons?
     Up until now, Josiah ("Joe") Simmons is not mentioned until he was manager of the Tivoli Club (Soapy's saloon) in Denver. I don't think Soapy and "Joe" came to Denver together, as his son, William Edward Simmons, was born in Denver in 1876 and Soapy was still living in Round Rock, Texas at the time. The earliest recording of "Joe" being with Jeff is November 1890, though they no doubt knew each other before then. Soapy arrived in Denver in 1879, but was still a nomad, moving around the West until making Denver his permanent home in about 1885.
     I also just received an email from "Anne Simmons Wise" who states that "Joe" was born December 17, 1862, and being that son William was born February 1, 1876, that means "Joe" was only 13 years old at the time. One of the dates must be incorrect. The photo I attached is of "Joe's" brother Samuel Silas Simmons. She also states that the Simmons family lived in Round Rock, Texas, around the time the Smith family lived there. I also attached the old photo supposedly of Joe Palmer and Joe Simmons (on right, standing). If the other photo is Joe's brother, then I do see a resemblance.

 

Josiah Boren "Joe" and Samuel Silas Simmons
A comparison

(Click image to enlarge)

 

Anne Simmons Wise responded, agreeing with the family resemblance between Josiah "Joe" Simmons and his brother Samuel.

Aug 22, 2019
     I'm sure you can see the family resemblance as I did.
     DNA evidence has linked a descendant of Joe Simmons to my Simmons family from Round Rock and Tyler, Texas. I'm descended from Samuel Silas Simmons, a stonecutter. Josiah Boren "Joe" Simmons was born 17 December 1862 in Smith County, Texas, and family story said that he died in a gunfight in Creede, Colorado, 18 Mar 1893. We didn't have any more information on Joe until the DNA link showed up to "Gambler Joe." The year is wrong, but everything else seems to match up.
     I saw that someone else did a genealogy match up with a different Joe Simmons from Wisconsin. I would think that the DNA match would trump that claim. Also, when I read your blog, I saw that Soapy Smith moved to Round Rock, Texas, in the 1870s with his family. My Simmons family (including Joe) was living in Round Rock in the 1870s and 1880s.
     I'd love to learn more about "Gambler Joe" and his best friend.

Sincerely,
Anne Simmons Wise

Four days later I responded.

Aug 26, 2019
     Hello, Annie.
     I apologize for the delay. "Joe" Simmons is very important to the history of Jeff "Soapy" Smith.
     I certainly do see the resemblance in the photographs.
     I have spoken numerous times to that Wisconsin family (Beth Simmons Jackson and her daughter Linda Jackson Rankin). Linda has gone through the DNA information and found Josiah Boren "Joe" Simmons to be accurate. This is pretty exciting news!
     There are still a few questions and issues, which is common (as you know) in history and genealogy.

• You mention that "Joe" was born December 17, 1862. His son William was born in Denver on February 1, 1876. That would put "Joe" at 13 years old when his son was born.
• "Joe" died of pneumonia in Creede, Colorado, on March 18, 1892. There are great newspaper articles, drawings, and a poem written about "Jeff and Joe." Great stuff!
• Very interesting that the father was born in Wilkes County, Georgia, two hours from Coweta County where "Soapy" was born. Then the Simmons family ended up in Round Rock, Texas. Do you have my book? It has all the information on "Joe" as a member of the Soap Gang in Denver and Creede.

That same day, Anne wrote back.

 

Aug 26, 2019
     That is awesome. I believe that it was Linda Rankin that I spoke to about the DNA results linking her family to Josiah Boren Simmons.
     Until this DNA breakthrough I knew nothing about Josiah "Joe" other than that he died in Creede, Colorado. I've been in contact with one of the other Simmons researchers who originally found that information. Hopefully, we'll turn up some sources for that. As far as I know it was family legend.

      You are correct about the birth date possibly being incorrect. Although I believe he must be younger than his brother Samuel Silas Simmons, who was born in 1858.
     I've been enjoying your website and blog.

     I just ordered your book, and am excited to read it.
 

Anne Simmons Wise

 

There are some minor issues with dates but overall it seems pretty clear that Josiah Boren Simmons is Joe "Gambler Joe" Simmons, or more correctly,  

 

Josiah Boren "Gambler Joe" Simmons

Visit the Soapy Smith Soap Box blog

 

Joe Simmons

Oct 17, 2008

Apr 20, 2010

Apr 07, 2011

Apr 21, 2011

Dec 22, 2015

Mar 25, 2019

Jan 09, 2021

Mar 11, 2021

 

Joe Simmons (Josiah Boren Simmons is Joe "Gambler Joe" Simmons): pages 33, 89, 131, 210, 214, 225-29, 273, 594. 

"The story of Soapy's death is at best Murky,
Be it known the killer was really Jesse Murphy."

—Jeff Smith

ROMANCE IN MINING: Joe Simmons, as honest a dealer as ever took in a sucker, 1892

"He never used a brace-box with a real sport.
Them he kept under his seat for tenderfeet."
The World
May 15, 1892

(Click image to enlarge)

 

 

 

oe Simmons, as honest a dealer as ever took in a sucker."

A great article on Creede, Colorado and the demise of "Gambler Joe" Simmons, Soap Gang member and friend of Soapy Smith, posted in the May 15, 1892 issue of The World (New York).

 

The newspaper story was originally published in the Chicago Times by Carter Harrison, owner of the newspaper, and former/future mayor of Chicago, who had paid Creede a visit and decided to write about it. Soapy had apparently known Harrison previously, though Harrison either denied it, or had not remembered. They met up and spoke during this visit. Later, in October 1893, Soapy and his wife Mary went to Chicago for the World Columbian Exposition (1893 World's Fair), and as Harrison had been reelected Mayor of Chicago in 1893, it stands to reason that if Soapy had any interests in possibly making Chicago his new home, he would work to meet with Harrison once again. Soapy was well aware of the mayor’s support of wide-open gambling, prostitution, and liquor, the very things Denver officials (Soapy's primary home-base) sought to shut down. Allowed to operate in Chicago were “saloons and gambling houses, protected bunco steerers and confidence men and brace games of all kinds without hindrance.” As the mayor once declared, “You can’t make people moral by ordinances and it is no use trying. This is a free town.” No doubt, Soapy found Chicago very enticing. He knew that Mayor Harrison maintained close ties with longtime Chicago crime boss Michael Cassius McDonald. “King Mike,” as he was known, was the main man Jeff would have had to see if he wanted a place in the mostly Irish underworld gambling domain. It cannot be ignored as simple coincidence, that Soapy's wife, Mary Eva Noonan was Irish, both her parents having come from Ireland.  More on Harrison below.

Following is the transcribed content of the article.

 

 

ROMANCE IN MINING.
—
The Bright Side of the Gold-Seeker’s Hard and Adventurous Life.
—
GLIMPSES OF CREEDE AND THE FEVERISH EXISTENCE THERE.
—
A Boston Tenderfoot Who Fooled Four Shrewd Old-Timers.
—
A Bit of Coarse Thread That Exposed the Secret of a Salted Shaft—An Entertaining Peep Behind the Scenes of a Mining Camp Theater—Oddities of Animal Life in Abandoned Mines Where Flies and Rattlesnakes Turn White—Recollections of Pat Casey, Who Made a Fortune in the Black Hills—With a Number of Graphic Illustrations by “World” Artists.

      [Carter Harrison in Chicago Times.]
      A couple of hours before nightfall we were at Creede. I would like to describe so my readers may comprehend this wonderful camp.

But here my muse her wing main course,
flights are far beyond her power. ①

      A new world and new revelations were opened before me. A world where man is seen in his naked individuality, stripped of every longing except greed and of every care except self-protection; where conventionalities are all left behind in the home whence, he came; when greed pushes him forward in fierce struggle for gain by day and wild revelry and debauch is his rule by night. There is no groveling[sic] sottishness and no cowardly lying in wait for murder. Men meet and crowd together in pursuit of quick gain or frolic; for gambling, drinking and dancing are handed down by tradition of the past as the pastimes of the miner and gold-seeker. These things are sought, not from any innate depravity or particular love of the amusement, but because they have come down with the unwritten legends from all hot mining camps since ‘49.
     Money is expended to assist an unfortunate one in need, and they bullet’s whisk tells that cheating has been detected and a knockdown or an impromptu duel, a Poutrance, avenges a chip falsely raked in. All Phases of life extend from the sublime to the ridiculous. The philanthropist and the beggar are on a plane of equality; the millionaire and the fakir, the minister of the Gospel and the gambler; the keen merchant, deeply imbued with a knowledge of profit, and the freebooter, who demands your money or your life, and is apparently indifferent as to which he gets. These all meet day and night.

     

Drinking at the grave
The burial of "Gambler" Joe Simmons
The World
May 15, 1892

 (Click image to enlarge)

 

     At the public eating-table you elbow a modest-looking man who has to his credit thirteen killed and yet never actually sought a quarrel, but who, when in one, knows but one way out. By his side sits a man with wild, greedy eye, a hectic cheek, and a cough from his inner caverns. The one and the other is after a rich gulch or a grave. A few days before our arrival a couple of preachers came into camp, and seeing the fearful depravity of the entourage, begged for a chance to preach. The tent house of worship had not been built. The use of a large gambling hall was accorded them for fifteen minutes, a verse was read, a few earnest remarks were given, and a prayer offered up, followed by the amen! The hush of fifteen minutes was immediately over; The shrill call of “forty-seven!” blended with the unctuous “Amen,” and then the cry of “keno!” and the clatter of “Give me back those chips,” and the retort, “You've got ‘em,” — you,” made part of the bustle and confusion of a typical mining camp gambling den.
     A night spent without the noise of gun-play and the rush to see who has died with his boots on occasions remark, but the hiss of the speeding bullet is forgotten before morning.

     

[The following portion of this newspaper article is written with intentional grammar errors and slang, with the intention of trying to capture and mimic Soapy’s southern drawl and personality. I chose to not add in (sic) "spelled incorrectly" as it would ruin the charm.]

 

     Soapy Smith saw me passing and asked me into is fine saloon. He said he had voted for me once.

     “what year was it I let you out?” I asked. Joke did not hurt his feelings. He gave me an account of the funeral of his friend Joe Simmons, a few days prior to our coming. Joe had often been his pal and was lately his chief dealer at the green table. “Joe said he was dying,” said Soapy, and there was a suspicion of dew in his eye.
     "I said, 'Oh, no, Joe! You'll rake in many a red yet before you go over the range.'"
     “Don't lie to me, Jeff,' says he. 'I know I'm dyin'; my last chip is ‘bout to be cashed, and I want to say good-by. Don't let none of ‘em preach over me, Jeff —none of them tramp preachers. No? That's right good of ye. Just lay me out and drink to my health over the range, if there’s another side to it. Good-by, old pard, I'm off.' And sure enough he jess shut his eyes like he was watching the kards as they dropped out of the case; and when he know’d he’d coppered the ace he jess shot over the hill.
     We tuk him up the trail and dug a hole where he can look at the 'last chance' when Gabriel will give his last toot. We dropt the box intar the hole. I tuk off my headgear and I says, says I; ‘My friends'— there was just a twelve of us, and me; I made the baker's dozen— 'you all know’d Joe. He was as true as a eight-ounce nugget with a toch of quartz to bring out the shine. He never used a brace-box with a real sport. Them he kept under his seat for tenderfeet. An’ he was right. What's a Tenderfoot made for ‘cept to fill the pay when the color runs low? That's what they come into the gulch fur. But if any of the ye says he didn't deal square among friends it's a — lie. Friends, I an't much of a speaker, but Joe didn't want no splutter at his funeral. He said to me: 'Jeff, don't make no fuss with your jaw, but just skip rip the necks off’n a dozen and drink to me on my last tramp over the range.' Now, let's refill as honest men and good Christians his last wish and thirteen corks shot out and thirteen cracks rung a volley, and I said; ‘here's to the health of Joe Simmons, as honest a dealer as ever took in a sucker.’ We put the necks to our lips and poured down the last drop an’ planted the bottles on the grave. Wasn't that a real sent-off for a true spirit in a gulch?”
     Soapy asked me to drink, but I had not been at the still when the stuff run out, so declined, but I took a cigar from a box with two Government stamps. I have a suspicion the cigars were put in since the stamps were broken.
     Soapy said he would be in Chicago next year to help me make World's Fair Mayor I warned him not to let Hemp know it or he'd be run in. “Oh, shucks! Chicago is right now. Hemp knows it.② Besides no Mayor can quit me but you, and you won't do it until you've been in the chair a whole month.”
     

THE CREEDE BALLET.
The World
May 15, 1892
Not part of the article
 I wrote about but I
liked the drawing just
knowing that likely
none of the girls were
professional ballerinas

 (Click image to enlarge)

 

When we first run into the station my eyes were amazed at seeing a mighty lumber-yard turn by magic into a city of fresh-cut boards. Not a house was painted except those of the Cyprians. That is their sign. A band of music welcomed us on the platform—the only one in town—the orchestra of the theater just opened. A committee of forty bled into our ear. We were to be driven through the city in the only hack owned, and “would we make the people silver speeches at 8?”
     What's a town! New board houses everywhere, stuck in crevices of crags, perched on mountain sides, and propped up to keep them from sliding down; houses built on posts over the river. Its stream was hidden, but it's ripple was everywhere heard under the doors, houses sticking corners and stoops cut into the narrow streets; houses part boards and part canvas; one-story houses and two-story houses; some so frail that a drunken man could not lean against them, and houses with bay windows to second stories looking pretty and substantial. Every prospector is a squatter or the tenant of or purchaser from a squatter except on a patch taken by the school commissioners and sold the week before, sold at auction and realizing in a day's sale $185,000. This huge sum arose from a piece of land not worth last November as much as the piece of sky hanging over it. The town, or rather the three towns—old Creede, Jimtown (corruption for Gintown) and South Creede—with additions, had last November less than a dozen log huts, stuck in under overhanging precipices, occupied by a few dozen booted and hungry prospectors, but now has a population of from 5,000 to 7,000, with several banks, an electric plant, four or five newspapers, two or three post-offices, several hotels (one with seventy-five rooms), several wholesale stores doing a big business with the outlying districts. Last year a whole month’s cancellation of letter stamps amounted to 115. In February of this year about 5,000 letters were mailed.
     I asked of the owner of an extemporized sawmill, who was sawing up a two-foot log just yelled: “What will be done with those green boards?”
     “Build houses before night and save insurance. These boards are warranted proof against for a month, and that's something when insurance is 12 per cent.”
     I went into a heavily stocked general store, 20 by 110 feet. It was one of two stores of a handsome two-story house. The owner told me he purchased his lot Feb 8 and was now doing a heavy wholesale trade getting big rent for the rest of his house. This is only a sample of many. Last fall the railroad entered the place; now the receipts for freight are about $3,000 a day and the shipments of ore are from 90 to 100 tons. This will be greatly increased when the snow ceases to whiten the ground.

More on Carter Harrison:

 

 

Carter Henry Harrison Sr.
Frontispiece from A Summer's Outing, 1891.
circa 1890
colorized by Jeff Smith

 (Click image to enlarge)

 

 

Carter Henry Harrison Sr. (February 15, 1825 – October 28, 1893) was an American politician who served as mayor of Chicago, Illinois, from 1879 until 1887; he was subsequently elected to a fifth term in 1893 but was assassinated before completing the term. He previously served two terms in the United States House of Representatives. Harrison was the first cousin twice removed of President William Henry Harrison, whose grandson, Benjamin Harrison, had also been president until just months prior to the assassination. Harrison was known to refer to Chicago as his "bride." He supported a “wide-open” policy, meaning gambling, saloons, etc., were allowed to run without trouble or inte3rference from the city government. Harrison's tenure as mayor formally ended on April 18, 1887. Harrison unsuccessfully sought to stage a comeback, running in the 1891 Chicago mayoral election. Harrison was re-elected mayor in 1893, in time for the World's Columbian Exposition being held in the city. Harrison's career and assassination are closely connected with the World's Columbian Exposition, and are discussed at some length as a subplot to the two main stories (about the fair and serial killer H. H. Holmes) in Erik Larson's best-selling 2003 non-fiction book The Devil in the White City.③

 

NOTES:
① Tam O’Shanter, by Robert Burns (1759–1796)
② “Hemp” is Hempstead Washburne, Chicago mayor, 1891-1893.

③ Wikipedia: Carter Harrison Sr.

TRIVIA:

Sylvester Scovel who had befriended Soapy in Skagway, Alaska worked for The World newspaper, the center piece of this post, as a Correspondent.

Carter Henry Harrison: 

March 9, 2010

 

Chicago:

February 11, 2010

February 12, 2010

March 9, 2010

June 7, 2010

October 6, 2011 

September 22, 2012

December 7, 2017

 

"Gambler Joe" Simmons:

October 17, 2008

April 20, 2010

April 7, 2011

April 21, 2011

August 23, 2013

December 22, 2015

March 25, 2019

January 9, 2021 

Carter Henry Harrison: pages 282-83. 

Chicago (including World Columbian Exposition): pages 34, 42-43, 77-78, 86, 90, 92, 106, 109, 121, 138, 152, 197, 238, 253-54, 277, 281-83, 286, 288, 295, 299, 330-31, 333, 386, 391, 407, 475, 574, 579.

Joe "Gambler Joe" Simmons: pages 33, 89, 131, 210, 214, 225-29, 273, 594.

"Nine gamblers could not feed a single rooster."

—Yugoslav proverb

Artifact #70: The Illustrated Police News, the funeral of Joe Simmons, member of the Soapy Smith gang, 1892

The Illustrated Police News
Law Courts and Weekly Record
April 9, 1892
Artifact #70
Jeff Smith collection

(Click image to enlarge)

 

rtifact #70

A Gambler's Funeral. The First Piano in Creede. "Cap" William Light, Bat Masterson, and Bob Fitzsimmons.

 

     Though seeming just a newspaper with a story on Soapy Smith in Creede, Colorado, this issue is much more than that. It's important as an artifact because it was obtained and saved by "Soapy" Smith himself, known for keeping everything he could find that published his name. This is artifact #70 from my personal collection. 

     The Illustrated Police News was a very popular weekly illustrated newspaper published in England and in the United States (between 1860-1904) making it one of the earliest tabloids. It featured sensational and melodramatic reports and illustrations of crime.

     We start this article on page 3 and 13 as this is obviously the main reason Soapy obtained and saved this issue. It deals with the death of "Gambler Joe" Simmons in Creede, Colorado on March 18, 1892 of pneumonia. Simmons had been a long-time friend of Soapy's, as well as a key member of the Soap Gang. He managed the Tivoli Club in Denver and came to Creede to manage Soapy's Orlean's Club. He is also known to have dealt faro. When Simmons died, Soapy took it pretty hard, openly displaying his emotion. Both Creede newspapers, a poet, and the Illustrated Police News wrote of Soapy's mourning. 

     At the grave site, Soapy gave the eulogy.

      The man whom we have just laid to rest was the best friend I ever had. You all knew him. Did any of you ever know him to do a thing that wasn’t square with his friends? No. I thought not. Neither did I. The best we can do now is to wish him the best there is in the land beyond the range, or the hereafter, if there is any hereafter. Joe didn’t think there was and I don’t know anything about it. Friends, I ain’t much of a speaker. But Joe was my friend and all he wanted was for us to gather at his grave and drink his health when he was gone. Let us do it.

     Twelve bottles of Pomeroy were then opened and each of the assemblage took his glass in hand while Smith said: “Here’s to the health of Joe Simmons in the hereafter, if there is a hereafter.” The glasses were drained. Then all joined hands around the grave and sang “Auld Lang Syne.” 

 

An artist for The Illustrated Police News successfully caught the emotion shared at Joe Simmon's funeral in the drawing shown below.

 

 

 

Page 13 - close up
The Illustrated Police News
April 9, 1892
Artifact #70
Jeff Smith collection

 (Click image to enlarge)

 

 

 

Page 13
The Illustrated Police News
April 9, 1892
Artifact #70
Jeff Smith collection

 

 (Click image to enlarge)

 

"Have no preachin' at my send off. Just drink my health."

 

The first and primary reason Soapy saved this issue was the story about the bural of his friend, Joe Simmons. The Illustrated Police News copied the story, A Gambler's Funeral, from the Creede Chronicle, March 22, 1892. Following is the article.

      “Can a feller buy a stack of blues in here, to-day?”
      “Not to-day, pardner.”
      “What’s the matter?”
      “Well, Joe Simmons is being buried to-day and the house is closed until after the funeral.”
      “Who was Joe Simmons?”
      “How long have you been in camp?”
      “Came in on the afternoon train.”
      “Thought so. Well Joe Simmons was Jeff Smith’s best friend. This is Jeff’s house and not a card will be turned or a drink sold until Joe’s remains have been carefully planted. You can slide up to the bar and gulp one to Joe’s health beyond the range, but your money don’t go.”
      The above conversation took place at the Orleans Club in this camp, Sunday afternoon. The inquiring party was a miner fresh from Leadville. The man who responded was the bar keeper at the Club.
      After the drink, the mixologist waxed talkative. “I’ve known Jeff Smith,” he said, “for a number of years, but I never saw him knocked such a twister as when he found out that Joe had to die. Down in Texas years ago both of ’em was kids together. They went to an old log schoolhouse and helped each other to annoy the teacher and get a little learning. Then they went to punchin’ cows and worked for the same outfit, afterwards graduating into the Texas Rangers. They ran together, swore together, yes and I guess they skinned many a sucker together too, but they never gave a friend dirt.
      Well Joe comes into camp when he hears the boom is on and went to dealin’ for Jeff. He finally got sick—pneumonia—and Friday night a few moments before 12 o’clock, Jeff goes up to his room. Joe was dyin’ and Jeff knowed it, but he tried to give him a stall that he was looking all right.”
      “Don’t lie to me, Jeff,” says Joe, “I know I’m dying. My last chip will be cashed in very soon and I want to say good-bye to you. You won’t have no preachin’ at my send-off, will you? No. Good. Just lay me out and wish me good health on the other side of the range. If there is another side and any health there. Good-bye, old pard, I’m off!”
      “Them was the last words Joe spoke, and Jeff came down to the saloon and cried like a baby. He says to me, ‘Chick [William], the whitest man on earth just died,” and I know what he meant. But there goes the funeral procession."

     Joe Simmons was one of the best known gamblers in the West. He had been Jeff Smith's school-day friend, and the last wishes of his friend were a sacred trust to him. Accordingly the funeral and the services at the grave [illegible due to missing newspaper pieces] ... mountain side above Creede w ...[illegible due to missing newspaper pieces] perhaps
[illegible due to missing newspaper pieces] the remains of an erstwhile human being were being consigned to their last resting place.

     At 2 o'clock the funeral cortege left the undertaker's. A wagon containing the deceased was in advance. Next followed the only hack in town, containing Jeff Smith, John Kinneavy, Hugh Mohan and a Creede Chronicle reporter. Ore wagons containing fifty friends of the departed followed.

     A blinding snow-storm was in progress, but the horses plodded on up the steep hill side. When half way up the mourners were forced to get out and walk to the head of the hill, as the horses couldn't stand the strain.

     Finally the cemetery was reached. Six mounds of earth, ominously close together, marked it. A gaping oblong hole had been dug beside the last mound. When the box had been taken from the improvised hearse it was lowered into the grave. Every head was uncovered, and Jeff Smith, standing at the foot of the grave, thus addressed the throng:

     "The man whom we have just laid to rest was the best friend I ever had. You all knew him. Did any of you ever know him to do a thing that wasn’t square with his friends? No. I thought not. Neither did I. The best we can do now is to wish him the best there is in the land beyond the range, or the hereafter, if there is any hereafter. Joe didn’t think there was and I don’t know anything about it. Friends, I ain’t much of a speaker. But Joe was my friend and all he wanted was for us to gather at his grave and drink his health when he was gone. Let us do it."
      Twelve bottles of Pommery were then opened and each of the assemblage took his glass in hand while Smith said: “Here’s to the health of Joe Simmons in the hereafter, if there is a hereafter.” The glasses were drained. Then all joined hands around the grave and sang “Auld Lang Syne.”

     It was a strange and weird sight. The snow was falling in thick heavy clouds, and for a single moment the sun came out above the crested cliff's and glinted on the glasses, giving a new sparkle to the wine that toasted the obsequies of the dead sport. Sorrow for the nonce was drowned by an offering to Bacchus.

     The dirt was filled into the grave and the cortege returned to town. In a few moments funeral goers were busy again with cards and chips and the Orleans Club opened for business. 

Below is page 3, where the story, A GAMBLER'S FUNERAL, is located.

 

 

 

Page 3
The Illustrated Police News
April 9, 1892
Artifact #70
Jeff Smith collection

 (Click image to enlarge)

 

 

The next picture and story of some interest to Soapy is on pages 9-10, and has to do with the arrival of the first piano in Creede.

"The first piano in the new camp.

A great reception at Creede, Col., for a new music maker—The instrument that is doing all-day and all-night duty in a dance hall."

 

     A piano came into the new Colorado camp boom city of Creede a fortnight ago, the "advance courier," as the Daily Crusher declared in a column article on the subject the next day, "of a long line of musical instruments which will make these mountain fastnesses ring with melody, and create a symphonous accompaniment to the everlasting music of the resonant steel discs of the saw mill up Poverty Gulch. The piano has come to stay. It is set up in a dance hall, where its tired strings are nightly hammered by a long-haired virtuoso, who sweeps out the corks in the early dawn, places the 'dead drunks' tenderly under the wooden bunks in the retiring rooms, and acts as tout for his rendervous when the stage whirls in the afternoon."

     There is much of open violation of law in Creede, and as the Crusher's rival, the Prospector, stated in its issue, "the midnight air is rasped by the assassin's bullet. Shootings are common enough, and there is not much of police protection. There is, however, an association of bearded, reputable, determined men, who never fail to receive respect from desperadoes when they find themselves compelled to resort to the vigilantes' ultimatum. Invitations to leave the camp are promptly complied with. 'You have twenty-four hours in which to leave town,' wrote a committee of this kind once in Cheyenne's active days. 'Gentlemen,' came the brief and scholarly response, in fine Italian hand, 'gentlemen, if my mule doesn't buck I'll not need more than twenty-four minutes.' An intimation of a public desire here is sufficient to meet with prompt obedience."

 

 

Page 9 - close up
The Illustrated Police News
April 9, 1892
Artifact #70
Jeff Smith collection

 (Click image to enlarge)

 

 

 

 

Page 9
The Illustrated Police News
April 9, 1892
Artifact #70
Jeff Smith collection

 (Click image to enlarge)

 

 

Below is page 10 where the story is located.

 

 

Page 10
The Illustrated Police News
April 9, 1892
Artifact #70
Jeff Smith collection

 (Click image to enlarge)

 

 

The third story Soapy would have taken interest in is on page 11. It's just three sentences long, having to do with his brother-in-law, William Sydney "Cap" Light, who was a member of the Soap Gang, and a deputy marshal in Creede, Colorado in 1892.

 

The first murder at Creede, Col., occurred March 31. Capt. Light shot and killed McCann, a gambler, in Long's saloon. Light has disappeared.

 

A fourth story makes mention of Soapy's friend, William B. Masterson who was also in Creede.

 

W. B. Masterson, who has been at Creede, Col., managing the sporting house of Watrous, Banninger & Co., a rich Denver firm who opened a branch at Creede, has returned to Denver. It is said that the bar receipts of the Creede branch house averaged $600 a day. Masterson has been living a quiet and uneventful life at Denver for the past ten years, serving most of the time as a deputy sheriff of Arapahoe county. He has never been a desperado in the sense of other men with whom his name has been connected. He doesn't stand accused of train robbery and  such like deeds of lawlessness. But many is the man who did commit these deeds that he has met and vanquished. He has been in nearly every rough town of the west since 1872 as a gambler "on the inside" as the sports term it, and he has come through many a shower of bullets unscathed and has never, it is said by those who know his career most intimately, been the aggressor in a shooting scrape. Masterson, when men have been against him to do him, has simply not taken the worst of it.

 

Below is page 11, where the two briefs are located.

 

 

 

Page 11
The Illustrated Police News
April 9, 1892
Artifact #70
Jeff Smith collection

 (Click image to enlarge)

 

 

 

The final story Soapy would have taken interest in is on page 6, and having to do with middle weight boxing champion Robert "Fitz" Fitzsimmons. It was in Denver in 1891 that Soapy and members of his Soap Gang swindled the famous boxer out of cash and diamonds in a "big mit" poker con. The story is much too long and does not contain anything about Soapy and Denver, but may be of interest to sports historians and fans. 

 

 Below is page 6 and 14, where the story is located.

Page 6
The Illustrated Police News
April 9, 1892
Artifact #70
Jeff Smith collection

(Click image to enlarge)

 

 

Page 14
The Illustrated Police News
April 9, 1892
Artifact #70
Jeff Smith collection

 (Click image to enlarge)

 

 

The remaining pages of the Illustrated Police News is filled with various stories and graphics of interest. There seems to be something for everyone's interest. Enjoy.

 

 

 

Page 2
The Illustrated Police News
April 9, 1892
Artifact #70
Jeff Smith collection

 (Click image to enlarge)

 

 

 

 

 

Page 4
The Illustrated Police News
April 9, 1892
Artifact #70
Jeff Smith collection

  

(Click image to enlarge)

 

 

 

 

Page 5
The Illustrated Police News
April 9, 1892
Artifact #70
Jeff Smith collection

  

(Click image to enlarge)

 

 

 

 

 

Page 7
The Illustrated Police News
April 9, 1892
Artifact #70
Jeff Smith collection

 (Click image to enlarge)

 

 

 

 

 

Page 8
The Illustrated Police News
April 9, 1892
Artifact #70
Jeff Smith collection

 (Click image to enlarge)

 

 

 

Page 12
The Illustrated Police News
April 9, 1892
Artifact #70
Jeff Smith collection

 (Click image to enlarge)

 

 

 

 

 

Page 15
The Illustrated Police News
April 9, 1892
Artifact #70
Jeff Smith collection

 (Click image to enlarge)

 

 

 

 

 

Page 16
The Illustrated Police News
April 9, 1892
Artifact #70
Jeff Smith collection

 (Click image to enlarge)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Joe Simmons:

October 17, 2008

April 20, 2010

April 7, 2011 

April 21, 2011

August 23, 2013

December 22, 2015

March 25, 2019

 

Joe Simmons: pages 33, 89, 131, 210, 214, 225-29, 273, 594.

"It can be argued that man's instinct to gamble is the only reason he is still not a monkey up in the trees."

                                                                           —Mario Puzo, Inside Las Vegas