Wyatt Earp, Bob George and Me....Dodge City...

Who knew? In a cluttered but neat den, in a non descript house in a non descript neighborhood in Dodge City, Kansas, there exists a remarkable collection of some of the most interesting crime memorabilia Ive ever seen. No, Im not referring to Old West lore, although there is a lot of that here in Dodge, as there should be, since this was such an important stop along the Santa Fe Trail. Im referring to notebooks full of letters and drawings and other mementos from serial killers, even a check endorsed by Jeffrey Dahmer.
The collection is owned by Mr. Bob George, retired history and psychology teacher at Dodge City High, where his old room, first room on the ground floor to the right of the blue awning, he notes as we drive past, still stares out at the road past the school. I met Bob a couple of days ago as I was walking along Route 54 towards Mullinville, Kansas. He was going fishing (he fishes like most men breathe---constantly---and to stay alive.) He pulled over on the side of the road and waited for me to pass. He beckoned me over and asked me if I needed anything, thinking I was in dire straits. We talked a few minutes and he offered to take me around Dodge City, where he lives, when I got to town, if I wanted. I got his numbers and we parted.
Arriving yesterday, I called him. He came right over and we went out for a drive. The very first place we went, and I was not expecting this, was…fishing. I was just in town, hot as hell, and thought we were gonna drive all over and see the sights. Instead, I got about a half hour of watching Bob trying to drown a rubber worm, and I even tried to drown one for a few minutes. Then it was over. We left and went to Bob’s house, aka the Museum, where he let me peruse his notebooks, all meticulously arranged and neatly ordered.
Inside I was amazed to find several handwritten letters from Charles Manson, with whom Bob had a running correspondence for several years. Manson is tricky though---to get a letter from him you need to pony up some dough for commissary or for hobby supplies at the prison in Corcoran, where he is a guest of the state of California. He knows his signature has value, and makes sure someone does not get something for nothing.
There were also letters from David Berkowitz, (Son of Sam), Arthur Shawcross, John Wayne Gacy, and many others, including one in the neatest handwriting imaginable, from Charles Harrelson, convicted killer and father of actor Woody Harrelson. It was really an amazing set of notebooks, and I feel privileged to have seen them. He also at one time requested hand tracings from notable murderers, like Richard Ramirez (the Night Stalker) and Susan Smith (who killed her babies by allowing them to drown in a car), and he received them. There is something creepily giddy about a serial killer like Ramirez tracing his right hand, like a child’s drawing of a Thanksgiving turkey. Incredible.
Bob’s collection and knowledge of the serial killer set is so respected that authors have come to him for information for book projects, and Bob has also been invited to speak at schools about the topic, where he once did a presentation in the first person : “I am Dennis Rader” (the BTK Killer) which awakened any of the dozing kids in the class. “What? He’s out already??”
After a quick spin around the downtown part of Dodge, Bob dropped me off at my motel. He gave me a number for a man who knows more about the history of Dodge City than anyone alive, in Bob’s opinion. Im heading out to get a tour from him now.
SIX HOURS LATER
Well, I don’t know if the man, Charlie Meade, knows more about Dodge City than anyone alive but it’s a close bet that no one knows more than he does. What a treasure trove of information and stories! I need to describe Charlie first, though. He stands maybe 5’2” tops. He is 76 years old, and has been a deputized Dodge City Marshall since 1964, and for the past 5 years has been a US Marshall. I suspect it to be ceremonial because he seems too nice a man to arrest anyone. He met me today wearing a full gun belt, with a large revolver in the holster, spurs (the first time in my life Ive seen real spurs) and a large ten gallon hat, which he never took off.
He took me, and another fellow we picked up along the way around downtown Dodge City. He explained that Dodge City's Front Street, the original one depicted in the movies and recreated in the Boot Hill Museum, had burned down, since almost all of the buildings that lined Front Street were wooden contruction. Gradually things were rebuilt in a different way, and the city was thriving. Then in 1969 came the advent of Urban Renewal, and the city was given two million bucks to spruce up. Instead, as Charlie said, “We self-destructed” and instead of fixing up the buildings that needed it, the city tore down ALL of them and made a big parking lot. A faux western façade was added to some existing buildings to try to capture the feel of the old west but it didn’t match the buildings and is now scheduled for demolition or removal.
Charlie took us around a few blocks, where we saw a Walk of Fame dedicated to both Old West lawmen and television and film stars, mostly people who had been in the show Gunsmoke, including the recently deceased James Arness “A giant of a man, 6’8’’ tall, and quite a comedian,” says Mr. Meade. “When we were doing the Walk of Fame a few years ago we had someone fly out to his home with the concrete so he could sign it and put his handprints in it.” Arness’ ill health in recent years was cause for enough concern that the committee was not taking any chances, apparently. One former Gunsmoke star that has not been to Dodge is Burt Reynolds, and Meade speculates, with a laugh, that the reason Burt has not been back is because he has to keep busy making movies to keep up his alimony to Loni Anderson. Old Charlie Meade is quite a kidder, and a character. When it came time to part, I reached for some money for a tip for him, but he waved me off and said, “You don’t owe me a thing. Just be careful on your trip.”
It was not the last I would see of Charlie Meade though. Another thing that Bob George had told me about was a new book by an author named Jeff Guinn. The book, called The Last Gunfight, details the alleged, and legendary Gunfight at the OK Corral, in Tombstone, Arizona. As it turned out, Guinn was scheduled for a book signing right here in Dodge City on this very day, at 4 pm, and I decided that I wanted to go. And who should I see there but Charlie Meade, wanting more info to impart about Wyatt Earp and his times.
Now, Wyatt Earp lore has always been of interest to me, and I thought it would be interesting, although I was not going to buy a book with my limited budget.
A Wyatt Earp primer: Earp was a deputy marshall in Dodge City in the 1870’s. Bat Masterson was the Sheriff. The south side of town, which was divided by railroad tracks, was the rough side of town and the north was the more socially appropriate, shall we say, side. Earp, an imposing figure who would not hesitate to “buffalo” a ne’er do well, a reference to a whack on the head with his long Buntline pistol, was a tough enforcer of his own laws, and in a few short years had Dodge City, once known as the naughtiest little city in the west, running so straight and narrow that there was nothing for him to do any longer. So he, his brothers and a friend “Doc” Holliday, a dentist, and a damned good one, according to both Guinn and Meade, moved to Tombstone, Arizona, where an arrest gone wrong ended up with a lot of dead outlaws and some lawmen brought up on charges. It was a turning point of the old west and soon the whole scene was gone, its final chapters being written by the advent of the railroad and the Industrial Revolution.
Guinn, who is working on a book about Charles Manson, had been out to Bob George’s house to interview him, and to make copies of a lot of Bob’s material. I mentioned Bob to Huinn and we had a nice talk about the collection, writing and my walk. After a short talk about the book, and the Kansas Cultural Center, where the signing was held, and where Guinn found a treasure trove of material never before seen, he surprised me with a copy of the book, as a gift. I was not expecting that at all and I was and am very grateful. I told him about my own failed publishing experience (my publisher died mid-book) but he just told me to keep writing and things would fall into place. His own experience was that he wrote several books that “sold in the dozens” of copies each, until a book about Christmas, told through the eyes of Santa Claus, and now published as the Christmas Chronicles , sold a half million copies, and he has not had a day job since. I can only hope to follow that luck train.
Dodge City, a smelly old cowtown, a city in search of its identity, and far more sophisticated than popular perception would allow---it has been a delight to visit here. The cheesy gunfight recreation at the Boot Hill Museum, the lousy smells of cow crap from the empty cattle trucks, (17000 head of cattle are delivered and killed each day at the two main facilities here. THAT is where the beef is, Clara Peller!
And somehow, for me, despite the 60 percent latino population and the loud mufflers and the fake saloons, the tough guy spirit of old Earp still roams the place, keeping the bad guys on the straight and narrow.