Probably no man now living knows as much of the personal history of the late W. D. “Bill” Fossett of Kingfisher as does Joe Grimes of McCloud, Okla., formerly of the local community. Fossett is shown above at left with Grimes, in a picture taken in Kingfisher in 1900. Photographer was a Miss White, sister of Mrs. S.S. Simpson of McPherson, Kans., well-known in Kingfisher. Her studio was located in the Anheuser-Busch building on Roberts Avenue, then the main business thoroughfare of the city.

Grimes said Fossett had two identical $45 tailor-made suits made in Guthrie at his own expense for the occasion.

Grimes Was Deputy

Grimes served as a deputy under Fossett when the latter was chief United States Marshal for the western district. A furor was Updated by Fossett’s appointment of Grimes as deputy, for Grimes was a democrat, and the republican administration, which was in power at the time, took its politics seriously. But the appointment stuck, and Fossett and Grimes served the law enforcement needs of the region with distinction.

Grimes came to Kingfisher last Wednesday to serve as one of the pallbearers at the funeral of his old friend. He said that it had been planned that he and Fossett and Chris Madsen of Guthrie, another frontier marshal, would make a trip to Pawnee in the spring to spend a week as guests of the famous frontiersman, Pawnee Bill, but death intervened to prevent the keenly anticipated reunion.

The Times and Free Press asked Grimes if he would write a story concerning some of the recollections of Fossett, and in response that request he had contributed the following:

Dear Folks:

You asked me to give you a story of W. D. “Bill” Fossett as I knew him. I knew Bill, and we were more than friends for almost 60 years. Bill thought more of a friend than he did of all the silver and gold. He lived not for himself, but for what he could do for his friends.

I have seen Bill tried in many different ways. No matter what anyone had to say he always stayed true to his friends, helping everyone that called on him for help. I said to him once, “Bill, you are too big-hearted,” His reply to me was “I thought money was to spend won’t do you any good to keep it. I would rather make someone happy and have my pocket empty that to turn someone down who is in need.”

His home in Guthrie was always open to his friends. I remember Jerry Cunningham of Kingfisher, who was visiting Bill in Guthrie. While there he suddenly became ill with typhoid fever and died in Bill’s home. Bill paid all expenses, both doctor and funeral bills.

When Colonel Theodore Roosevelt was elected president, Bill chartered a special car, took with him a number of friends to Washington to notify Roosevelt of his being elected. On his return he told me the trip cost him $300. He got a kick out of giving presents to his friends. On one occasion he paid $500 for a saddle, and had it expressed to President Theodore Roosevelt as a present.

If Bill Fossett had an enemy it was someone who did not know him. Even the prisoners in the federal jail in Guthrie, many of whom Bill had run down and put behind the bars, all respected him and called him Uncle Bill.

To Bill, Kingfisher was always home. Last fall when I was sick he made me a visit. He held my hand and cried like a child. He said: “Joe, I’m so sorry to see you so sick. I’m coming back to see you: I would stay longer, but I’m homesick to get back to my old hometown Kingfisher.”

Bill could have reached the top of the ladder financially had he not had such a big heart—he was too liberal for his own good.

After all, he took with him just as much as Henry Ford will when he goes.

Respectfully,
Joe Grimes

W. D. ‘BILL’ FOSSETT’S OWN STORY

March 18, 1940— The Kingfisher Free Press--The story, which follows, is made of incidents in the settlement of Oklahoma as related by W. D. “Bill” Fossett to his nephew Burt V. Manigold of Oklahoma City and as recorded by the latter. Manigold has prepared a detailed account of many of Fossett’s exploits and hopes to have the material published in book form.

Great ranches were broken up and the cowboys found themselves without occupation.

They had been led by the cattlemen to believe that the nesters, as they called them, had no rights.

Deputy marshals were needed sorely, and as the fees were liberal and the work easy, many cowboys entered this vocation. Such danger as was attached to the office only made it the more alluring to these bold riders.

There seemed to exist a great chance for graft from the settlers on the one hand and the outlaws on the other. This situation led to a great amount of trouble. Few people of this generation have any conception of the manner in which the federal government handled law enforcement during the settlement of Oklahoma; or of the causes, which frequently transformed government from orderly process into misadministration of law.

Deputies Were Numerous

The president appointed a federal judge, with territorial as well as the usual power; also a United States marshal empowered to name his own deputies. I have seen as many as 150 deputy marshals in the field at one time, each man having the right to name two possemen.

With the increasing settlement of the territory, the judicial districts were increased to seven each consisting of two or more counties.

Deputy marshals were allowed a mileage fee, substance charge transportation for themselves and prisoners, fee for guards, and a fee for “endeavoring’ to catch criminals, whether or not they were successful. In many instances, it was profitable not to catch them. That would have killed the goose that laid the golden egg if pushed to its logical conclusion.

Jobs Were Lucrative

I have been asked why, in a terrain like that of Oklahoma notorious criminals roamed at liberty for years without apprehension. Of course, portions of the sate, notable in the west, are rough and broken: there are large areas of dense black jack pines, or deep cedar bend canyons. Settlers also sheltered the bandits fearing reprisals if they should give information to the officers.

But the main reason for the criminals’ immunity lay in the fact that the deputy marshals did not desire to lose those lucrative fees. All the outlaws understood this condition thoroughly, and felt fairly safe so long as they did not flaunt their lawlessness needlessly under the very eyes of the marshals.

Scores of ex-cowboys and criminals took advantage of the situation to secure appointments, in which they could rob the government by padding accounts. It would be unjust and untrue to brand all early deputies with this stigma. There were many conscientious deputies who made every effort to apprehend the law violators. Nevertheless, I challenge anyone with knowledge of early Oklahoma history to name half a dozen of the earlier outlaws who had not previously been cowboys or deputy marshals of the United States.

Bob and Grat Dalton both served as United States deputies before they decided that banditry was more profitable—if not quite so safe.

These deputies could work both sides of the road without danger of violating a statue of the United States, or of losing reputation except amen the better-informed citizenry.

Many Settlers Abused

One of the most frequent, most lucrative and most dastardly abuses practiced by them was made possible by a federal law that forbade the cutting of green timber on government land.

In those days, the southwestern portion of Oklahoma was covered with dense areas of mesquite. Small cedars filled the deep canyons. For the benefit of those who have not seen mesquite, I might liken it to a discarded, deserted peach orchard, scrubby and useless. Most of the wood is underground. It makes good firewood, but that is about all. Some of the cedars were large enough for the manufacture of fence posts.

The poor settlers, reduced to extremity by the severity of unplowed wilderness, would cut and haul a load of posts a hundred miles, perhaps to earn the wherewithal to buy a few meager grocery supplies and thus feed their starving families.

Hardships Were Many

No one who has not undergone such an experience can imagine the misery and hardships encountered. Plaques of malaria and typhoid attended the breaking of raw sod, and the use of water from shallow, surface wells in a land devoid of sanitary precautions. Hundreds died during the first two years from typhoid alone.

These years were marked by severe drouth. Wheat and corn burned in the fields, and barely enough was save for seed. Families lived like rodents in pitiful dugouts, infested with vermin, sleeping upon dirt floors and using furniture made from dry goods boxes. Women fashioned dresses for themselves and their children from gunnysacks. Flour sack garments were regarded as quality clothing.

It was against the law to ship game out of season, but many an Oklahoma settler obtained all the money he secured for four and bacon and beans from the shipment of quail in lots of small as half a dozen birds. These were saleable on the St. Louis and Kansas City markets at rates varying from $1.25 to $1.50 per dozen. With this money they drove the snarling wolf from the door…but he returned the next night and sniffed at the window.

Homesteaders Arrested

It became a favorite means of graft among these “brave” deputy marshals of that undesirable type I have described to swoop down upon some miserable homesteader, hauling a load of ill-shaped fence posts or firewood to market, arrest him, take him before a United States Commissioner and have him bound over to the next term of court.

The nearest commissioner was in Wichita, from 300 to 400 miles distant; while the federal court, presided over by the famous hanging jurist--Judge Parker—was at Fort Smith, Ark. Each mile that the homesteader traveled to commissioner or court—often driving his skinny team—and paying his own subsistence—added to the deputy’s fee.

Charges Mounted Fast

The commissioner would charge his fees to the government; the deputy would charge his arrest fee, his mileage fee, transportation for himself and prisoners, subsistence and sometimes the routine fees for guards to keep the “outlaw farmer” from escaping. There have been well-authenticated instances when a deputy had run his account to $700 or $800 in a few days’ time by gathering 40 or 50 homesteaders—and with very little legitimate expense.

When I was appointed United States marshal for Oklahoma, I explained to the department of Justice that mesquite was detrimental to the land’ and thus won leniency in the attitude of the department. I cut the marshal’s force from 150 men to 15 and found that I had plenty of officers to conduct the legitimate business of the territory.

Never during my nine years as chief deputy and United State marshal did I permit the arrest of a homesteader for cutting green timber. I did not feel that the government should penalize pioneer heroism, regardless of any statue.

In the above picture, taken in the early days of Kingfisher on Roberts avenue at the post office corner, the lady on the white horse is Mamie Fossett, daughter of Bill Fossett. Kingfisher pioneer and former United States marshal, whose funeral services were held in Kingfisher Wednesday morning.

According to a story told to The Times and Free Press by Fossett during Kingfisher’s golden anniversary celebration last April 22, the white horse his daughter was riding in the picture, once was owned by Dick West, outlaw and member of the infamous Al Jennings gang.

West, with the Jennings gang, held up a Rock Island train in 1897 at Siding No. 1, now Pocasset. West rode the white horse to the holdup scene and after the robbery made his escape on the horse. At the time of the crime, Fossett was busy hunting some desperadoes in western Kansas.

On hearing of the robbery, the Rock Island Railroad furnished Fossett with a special train, consisting of a locomotive and a coach and rushed him back to Oklahoma.

On arriving in Kingfisher, Fossett received a tip that West was hanging out at a farm about six or seven miles south and west of Guthrie, near Seward. Fossett accompanied by Sheriff Rhinhardt of Logan County, went to the farm. Rhinhardt was armed with a shotgun and Fossett with his heavy revolver, which he always carried while on trips of this nature.

As the two officers neared the farmhouse they called out to the occupants to come out and surrender. Instead of following orders, West ran out the back door to his white horse, standing at the edge of some nearby timber. Rhinhardt took a shot at West with the shotgun as West was making the dash for his horse, but the outlaw escaped unhit. Getting the horse between himself and the officers, West opened fire on the officers with his six-gun. Fossett fired once and West dropped dead.

(In telling this story, Fossett, who had a reputation as one of the best shorts in the history of Oklahoma, was very apologetic that it was necessary for him to kill West.)

Fossett later acquired the horse and presented it to his daughter. Mamie Fossett, according to reports, died many years ago. Others shown in the picture are Mrs. Sam Lowry, driver of the rig: Bess Roberts (Mrs. G. A. Nelson of Waurika) sitting on the floor of the rig; Mag Roberts (Mrs. Charles Van Dyne of North Bend. Ore.), sitting next to the driver; and Kit Spice, Lincoln, Nebr., standing. Note the old post at the left of the picture.

* * * * * * *

NOTE: A. C. Black, who was a telegrapher at the Rock Island depot in Kingfisher at the time of the Siding No. 1 holdup, recalls hearing the news of the crime coming over the telegraph wires. He tells that Jennings and his gang forgot their dynamite with which to open the express messenger’s safe, so they lined the passengers up along the right of way fence and forced the porter to collect in a sack any valuables the passengers might have.

* * * * * * *

Doubtless there are others who could add to the saga of the man who was a contemporary of Chris Madsen, Bill Tilghman and Wyatt Earp, men of the law who were as well known in their time as J. Edgar Hoover and Thomas E. Dewey are today. But all are agreed that when the going was hardest, “Bill” Fossett led the way.

Bill Fossett, Unscathed By Outlaw’s Bullets In Long and Colorful Career As Peace Officer, Dies—In Bed

Terror of Early-Day Desperadoes in Texas, Kansas and Oklahoma Dies quietly In Kingfisher Honored by ‘Teddy’ Roosevelt

Last rites for W. D. Fossett will be held at 9 o’clock Wednesday morning at the Catholic Church in Kingfisher, Rev. Theo Van Hulse officiating. Interment will follow in Kingfisher cemetery. Arrangements are in charge of Bracken funnel home.

“Be you born to die in bed, bullets in their deathly course will bend around you. Lethal lead will never lay you low.”

This comment written in a story concerning W. D. “Bill Fossett of Kingfisher, became an actuality at 10:10 o’clock Saturday morning when the great frontiersman and pioneer peace officer breathed his last in bed. He had been ill for several weeks.

In the whole history of Oklahoma, perhaps, more hot lead streamed by the form of Bill Fossett without touching him than shot alongside any mortal in this region. No one was more frequently exposed to danger than he—yet he lived healthily to an age, which long since had surpassed the ordinary span of life.

Age Not Definite

Just how old Fossett actually was at the time of his death is in doubt. Some reliable sources said he was 90. Date of birth given on his social security card was November 3, 1851, which would fix his age as 88. However, the “Portrait and Biographical Record” volume published in Chicago in 1901, statement was made that Fossett was born in Watertown, N. Y. on November 3, 1852, which would make his age 87 years.

Fossett was city marshal of Caldwell, Kans., in the wide-open frontier days when that city was at its roughest and toughest. He also was the first city marshal of Kingman, Kans., and as a deputy United States marshal. In the early days before Oklahoma statehood, his career became part and parcel of the evolution of this commonwealth.

Staked First Claim

“Uncle Bill,” as many Kingfisher people had affectionately called him in recent years, staked the first claim in Kingfisher. After an all-day and all-night ride over the uncharted prairies from the present vicinity of Alva, he arrived on the line west of Kingfisher only a few minutes before the shot was fired that started the race for homes.

His horse, though tired from the forced journey, led the procession into Kingfisher and Fossett dismounted and staked his claim on the quarter section now occupied by the post office (at that time by the land office). Many others claimed that this land should have been divided into town lots and that Fossett had no right to claim the entire acreage, but he and his Winchester “defied the world:” and won. No one dared set foot on Fossett’s homestead, and in court he later was able to establish his right of ownership to the tract.

Knew Chisholm Trail

Few persons were so well informed concerning the Chisholm Trail days preceding the opening of Oklahoma to settlement as Fossett. In 1873—16 years before the opening Fossett traveled the cattle trail from Abilene, Kans., to Wichita, where he struck the Chisholm Trail for the first time and followed it into Oklahoma. He traveled the trail on many occasions during the years that followed, and said that the lonesomest night he ever spent was a night on the bank of Kingfisher creek when the Indians were holding a big pow-wow and he found it prudent to stay awake all night lest ill fate befall him while asleep.

Fossett was best known, though, for his accomplishments as a peace officer. For 50 years in various capacities in Texas, Kansas and Oklahoma, he was the terror of outlaws and lawbreakers in general. For a number of years he was a special officer for the Rock Island railway, and during that time he brought an end to the careers of several notorious train robbers. At one time he was chief of police in Kingfisher.

President Praised Him

As a deputy United States marshal he got results that others before him had been unable or unwilling to produce. President Theodore Roosevelt, who had appointed him chief deputy in 1907, called him to Washington an honored him at a dinner in the White house. Roosevelt, in a talk at the dinner, placed his hand on the should of Fossett, who sat next to him and said:

“I have had a good deal of trouble with my marshal appointments in Oklahoma, but gentlemen, I made mo mistake when I appointed Mr. Fossett.”

The United States attorney general voiced similar expressions of gratitude for a job well done at that time. Fossett, unlike some other early day officers who preyed upon unfortunate homesteaders who because of the press of adverse circumstances were forced to cut protected timer or indulged in other minor infraction of law, turned his attention to the “big time” law violators and did much to bring order to a new land where every man had been obliged to be his own protector.

Was Crack Shot

Alva McDonald, who at tome time was Fossett’s boss when the latter was a deputy United States marshal, said Saturday in El Reno:

He was one of the most feared officers in the history of the southwest, and I consider, him the best shot with rifle or pistol in the history of Oklahoma.

"Why, that man could shoot a bird out of the sky with a rifle, and he could snap a barbed wire fence with a pistol while riding in an automobile.”

Fossett was born of Scotch-Irish parents, and came west with them when he was four years old. In 1872 he went to Kansas, and engaged in the cattle business on the Smoky River, near Solomon City. For several years he dealt exclusively in livestock, often going to Monterrey, Mexico, and driving as many as 500 horses at a time to Emporia, Kans., where he shipped the animals to Michigan and other eastern points.

In recent years Fossett had lived quietly in Kingfisher. His greatest enjoyment was to renew old friendships with pioneer people whom he had not seen for many years. Last April 22, when Kingfisher celebrated its golden anniversary, he was particularly overjoyed when visited by David Leahy of Wichita, Kansas., who was a newspaper correspondent here at the opening and became one of the fist mayors of the twin cities of Kingfisher and Lisbon. It was the first reunion of the two colorful characters since shortly after the opening of the country to settlement. The picture on this page was taken at the time.

Fosset was married several times, and a wife Laura, still resides in Enid. A son, Louis, resides in Tulsa, and a daughter Mayme, died a number of years ago. Three nephews and two nieces also are known to be among his survivors. They are listed as follows: C. S. Fossett, Caldwell; Winifred Fossett, Wellington; B. V. Mangold, Oklahoma City; Mrs. H. W. Grabber, Minneapolis; and Mrs. George Nivar, Oklahoma City.

Recently he had made his home at the Utley residence on West Broadway.

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