SPECTACULAR ARREST OF THIS MUCH-WANTED MAN ON A CROWDED ST. LOUIS STREET
CAR
The arrest, in St. Louis, on the evening of March 12, 1888, of the
notorious Charlie Dalton, was accomplished in a rather unique, yet
sensational manner. Dalton had been "scouting" for a couple of years,
with a large reward offered by the state of Texas and the Missouri
Pacific Railway hanging over his head. Almost every sheriff, police
officer and detective in the country had his description and were
looking for him. The charge was murder, and the crime was committed
during the 1886 strike on the Gould properties. On the afternoon of
April 3, 1886, a freight train pulled out of Fort Worth, Texas, for New
Orleans, Louisiana. Besides the regular crew, the train carried a number
of guards in charge of Jim Courtwright, a noted western officer, who had
formerly been Chief of Police, Sheriff and Deputy United States Marshal
at Fort Worth.
As the train neared the Fort Worth and New Orleans crossing, it was
fired on by a gang of outlaws and cut-throats, headed by Dalton, who
were in ambush behind a pile of ties on the Missouri Pacific
right-of-way. Two of the guards were killed outright and several
wounded. The crime created a great sensation throughout the entire
country, because of its dastardliness.
The St. Louis Globe-Democrat of April 13, 1886, editorially referred to
it as the "Fort Worth Massacre."
Dalton and some of his gang were indicted by the Grand Jury, but when
the officers began a hunt for them they had disappeared. Circulars
announcing the amount of the reward and giving a description of the men
wanted, were scattered almost broadcast over the United States, Canada
and Mexico.
I received one of them, studied it carefully and got into communication
with the officers at Fort Worth. I had never seen Dalton, but I had seen
his brother, Geary, who was connected with the track department of the
Missouri Pacific Railroad, in St. Louis, where he lived. I noticed a
resemblance in the photo I had of Charlie to that of his brother, and
had instructed my operatives to keep a sharp lookout for Charlie, as I
had learned that his mother was then residing in Carondelet. In the
latter part of February, 1888, one of my operatives reported that he had
learned from a reliable source that the much-wanted man had been seen at
his mother's home in Carondelet. Whereupon, I took measures to have the
premises watched. I later learned that he had been making a practice of
visiting the Standard Theatre nightly.
On learning this, I arranged with the Chief of Police of St. Louis to
detail a couple of his men to visit the Standard Theatre nightly, where
I should have one of my men, who knew Dalton, on hand, so that he might
point him out to the officers, and they were to arrest him. These
arrangements were all completed on the afternoon of March 12, 1888.
At about six o'clock that evening I left my office for home. I then
lived at 2723 Walnut Street, and I walked to the corner of Eighth and
Market Streets, where I boarded a horse-car for home. The car proceeded
west and when we got to the corner of 10th and Market Streets, two good
sized, rough-looking young men ran to the rear end of the car and swung
themselves onto the platform, one of them lighting heavily on my right
foot and hurting me very much. His partner followed him and stood on the
lower step. This man, who had tramped on my foot, offered no apology for
his rudeness, and, in fact, paid no attention to me or the injury he
had done, but instead remarked to his partner that people ought to get
out of the way when they saw a person wanting to catch a car. His
partner said, "Charlie, we can't stay out at Geary's but a few minutes,
as you know I have got tickets for the Standard tonight and we must get
there early to get good seats."
"We won't stay out there only long enough to say goodbye, as we leave
town in the morning," replied Charlie.
While they were talking I took a good look at the man addressed as
Charlie, and from the conversation, and from the resemblance he had to
his brother, I concluded that the man thus addressed was Charlie Dalton.
I knew who Geary was, and I saw the resemblance that "Charlie" bore to
him. I also knew that the car would necessarily have to pass what was
then known as the Mounted Police Station, located between 27th and 28th
Streets, on Market Street, and before reaching Geary's house, and I
decided that when we got in front of the station I would arrest Mr.
Dalton and lock him up there. He was standing directly in front of me on
the platform and had me crowded up against the rear dashboard. He was a
burly fellow, considerably taller than I was, and would weigh one
hundred and seventy-five pounds. Having become satisfied that I had made
no mistake in his identity, I waited until we had arrived in front of
the police station, when I seized him by the coat collar with my left
hand, pulled the bell-cord, and after the car had slowed up I sprang to
the ground, taking Dalton with me, but as he struck the street, he
facing the car, he fell on his back, and I, still holding onto his coat
collar, reached for his pistol, which I was sure I would find, and I was
not disappointed, for there it was in the waist band of his trousers,
and proved to be a 41 Colts. Dalton then made an attempt to rise, but I
took all of the fight out of him by giving him a blow over the head
with his own weapon.
"What is this for?" he asked.
"Your name is Charlie Dalton and you are under arrest for murder," I
replied.
"My name is Charlie Dalton, all right, by G-d, partner," he exclaimed.
I then took him by the collar and assisted him to his feet. I took the
prisoner over to the police station and had him locked up, and later
wired the Fort Worth authorities that I had arrested Charlie Dalton, and
he was being held by the police of St. Louis, subject to their orders.
In due time I received a reply from the Chief of Police of Fort Worth,
requesting me to bring Dalton to that city, providing he would go
without waiting for requisition papers. Dalton, having already informed
me that he would go to Texas without requisition papers, I left with him
for Ft. Worth the following evening. On our arrival there the prisoner
was lodged in jail, and remained there a number of months without bond.
Between the date of the crime and the arrest of the cutthroat a number
of witnesses against him had died. Others had left the state, and the
result was that when his trial was called the state was unable to
produce its evidence and the defendant was finally released from
custody.
While it is true that I was anxious to apprehend this outlaw for the
Texas authorities, and had just finished making preparations to do so
should he visit the Standard Theatre that night, because of his known
desperate character, and the further fact that he was accompanied by a
big, husky pal, I doubt that I would have attempted his arrest
single-handed, had it not been for the incidents enumerated. I know I
would not have recognized him on this crowded car had not his rudeness
attracted my attention especially to him. The remarks of his pal settled
the question of his identity in my mind, and the pain in my foot and his
insolence aroused my ire. The arrest followed, and it has a
moral--"People should be careful as to whose toes they trample on."