Across the fence: Jules, Jack and lawless justice.

When the Pony Express made its first run on April 3, 1860 it followed the route of the old Central Overland California and Pikes Peak Express Company. This stage and freight line was owned and operated by the communication and transportation experts of the day, Majors, Russell and Waddell. In addition to the fledgling Pony Express, these three enterprising men had three hundred freight teams hauling supplies to all major shipping points throughout the West. Along this route it was necessary to establish frequent stations or ‘road houses’ where fresh teams could be hitched and road weary travellers could shake off the dust, stretch their legs and quench their thirst. Station agents were often, of necessity, hardened men who were used to a rough and ready lifestyle that augmented company loyalty with fierce independence. One such agent was Joseph A. “Jack” Slade who was the superintendent of the road from Julesburg, on the South Platte River, to Sweet Water.

Along this well traveled route violence was not an uncommon occurrence where disagreements, disputes and larcenous activities were frequently resolved by utilizing Samuel Colts equalizer. In early April of 1860 Jack Slade was pursuing horse thieves who had been raiding stations along his route. His pursuit led him to a known horse thief, Jules Beni, at the Julesburg Station. It was from Beni that Julesburg had been given its name. Jules had also been the division superintendent but had been dismissed by the company and replaced with Slade. While at the Julesburg Station, Slade was ambushed by Beni, shot several times with both pistol and shotgun, then left for dead in the station's corral.

Perhaps death at the hands of a scoundrel equal to his own brutality would have been fitting justice, but destiny had more in store for Jack Slade. Both Slade and Jules Beni were lawless men who frequently found murder to be the quickest solution for removing those who stood in their way. Frontier justice in the territories was swift and sure, though not always truly just. However, if one is seeking consolation, it is likely that those whose demise was brought about by the executions of Jack and Jules were also men of equally base character.

As a young man, Mark Twain ventured into the west to join his brother and seek his fortune in gold. His adventures were published in his book “Roughing It” wherein he had a great deal to say about his meeting of the notorious Jack Slade. Twain introduced his readers to Mr. Slade with the following excerpt:

“Slade was born in Illinois, of good parentage. At about twenty-six years of age he killed a man in a quarrel and fled the country. At St. Joseph, Missouri, he joined one of the early California-bound emigrant trains, and was given the post of train-master. One day on the plains he had an angry dispute with one of his wagon-drivers, and both drew their revolvers. But the driver was the quicker artist, and had his weapon cocked first. So Slade said it was a pity to waste life on so small a matter, and proposed that the pistols be thrown on the ground and the quarrel settled by a fist-fight. The unsuspecting driver agreed, and threw down his pistol—whereupon Slade laughed at his simplicity, and shot him dead!”

So it may have been counted as justice if Slade had indeed died in the corral at Julesburg Station where skittish horses shied from the acrid smell of gunpowder and blood. But stage driver Tom O’Brien heard the shots and saw Jules mount up and ride away. O’Brien carried Slade to the station and a rider was sent to Ft. Laramie, a distance of some 200 miles, to fetch the post surgeon. During the long wait for medical help Slade swore vengeance against his assassin and promised to kill Jules and cut off his ears as a trophy. Under the skilled care of the military surgeon Slade recovered from his many wounds though he carried several bits of buckshot, buried deep in his flesh, until his death in 1864.

Jules had ambushed Slade in April of 1860 and for over a year had managed to stay out of Slade’s path. But revenge would not be held at bay. In July of 1861 Jules rode in to the Cold Springs Station, just south of present day Bridgeport, Nebraska. Slade was still the district superintendent and also owned a ranch nearby. Surely Jules was aware of this, but it could have been that he had simply grown tired of constantly looking over his shoulder and had decided on a final settlement with Slade. However, good fortune was not with Jules on that hot July day.

When Jules rode in he was recognized by three young men who were friends of Slade, Johnny Burnett, Mike Terry and Johnny Frye. It is likely that these three men were all employees of the Pony Express. It is certain that Johnny Frye was a rider for the Express for it was he who was the first rider out of the stables in St. Joseph, Missouri when the Pony Express began. As the cards were played, in this game of revenge, it would appear that an elaborate trap had been laid and Jules Reni rode into an ambush. However, whether by design or by happenstance the three men seized Jules, dragged him to the corral fence and bound him to a post.

Shortly thereafter Jack Slade arrived on the Overland stage and the three abductors informed him that Jules had been captured and was tied to a post behind the station house. Slade intended to kill Jules but not without first inflicting sufficient pain to even the score. There were stories told of Slade’s torture while Jules pleaded for his life and then Slade drew his pistol, pressed it to Jules’ cheek and fired. The bullet passed through Jules’ mouth and exited behind his ear. Jules slumped against his bindings and hung lifeless on the post. Slade turned away and walked to the station house for a drink.

Later, Slade was informed that Jules was still alive and asking to see him. When Slade approached, Jules offered him a thousand dollars to have someone fetch his wife so that he might see her before he died. Slade replied, “…you did not think of mine when you cowardly shot me down unarmed. Now, you’ve got to die.” Slade drew his pistol and fired as Jules turned his face away to look his last upon the distant Scotts Bluff.

It is told that Slade cut off Jules Reni’s ears and wore one as a fob on his watch chain. Whether this was done before or after Jules was dead is not clear.

In 1863 Slade was terminated from his employment with the Central Overland and moved, with his wife, to Virginia City in the spring of that same year. When sober, Slade was known as a polite and intelligent gentleman. But when given to excessive drinking, he became reckless, dangerous and murderous. While in Virginia City, during his frequent sprees of drunken destruction, he would ride through the streets and into local saloons yelling curses and threats while firing wild shots through doorways and windows. Slade’s notoriety and his propensity for murder had preceded him to Virginia City and his increasing episodes of drunken destruction began to alarm the good citizens of the city.

There are two stories that are told to have been the final straw that led to Slade’s demise. One is that Judge Alex Davis had issued a warrant for his arrest for drunken, disorderly and destructive conduct. Outraged by the affront to his personal integrity Slade held a derringer to the judge’s head while he ripped the warrant to shreds and ground it into the dirt with the heel of his boot. This blatant assault led to his eventual arrest and subsequent hanging by the Virginia City vigilantes.

The other story is that while in a drunken stupor at a local saloon he offered to buy the house a round of drinks. One young man, who claimed to not imbibe in strong liquor, refused his hospitality and greatly offended Mr. Slade. Slade’s response to the young mans social slap in the face was to draw his Colt and shoot him dead.

Whatever the offense, the folks of Virginia City, Nevada had taken their fill of the unchecked lawlessness that swept over their town and determined that Slade should hang.

Despite his pleading, the band of vigilantes led Slade to the towering gateposts of a nearby corral. Across the top of the gateposts they laid a wooden beam and slung a rope over it. Slade was forced upon an overturned wooden box and the hastily fashioned noose was drawn around his neck.

The sobering reality of eminent eternity sapped the strength from his legs as he struggled to stand. “My God! My God! Must I die?” he wailed. His final words were, “Oh, my dear wife!” then the wooden box was jerked from beneath his feet.

Perhaps the taming of the west depended not only on the survival of those most fit but also the elimination of the most undesirable.

M. Timothy Nolting is an award winning Nebraska columnist and freelance writer. To contact Tim, email; acrossthefence2day@gm