Sam Bass was born in Indiana—that was his native home,
And at the age of seventeen young Sam began to roam.
He first came out to Texas, a teamster for to be;
A kinder hearted fellow you scarcely ever see.
This bit of biography of the Texas bandit was probably the first poem
the writer learned outside the home circle. He learned it at the age
when it was a great privilege to be permitted to pad along in the
freshly plowed furrow at the heels of the hired man, Dave. Not only was
Dave the hired man, he was a neighbor’s boy, and such a good poker
player that he developed later into a professional gambler. But at the
time I write of Dave was my tutor in Texas history, poetry, and music,
all of which revolved around Sam Bass. To me and to Dave, Sam Bass was
an admirable young man who raced horses, robbed banks, held up trains,
and led a life filled with other strange adventure. At length, this
hero came to an untimely end through a villain named Murphy, “who gave
poor Sam away.” It was a story calculated to capture the imagination of
young men and small boys. All over Texas hired men were teaching small
boys the legend of Sam Bass, a story which improved in the telling
according to the ability of the teller.
Not only was the story thus told. Men of high station in life, the
lawyers, judges, and oldtimers, congregated around the courthouse of
this western county and told of how Sam rode through the country at
night after one of his daring robberies. Once a posse organized to go
out and take Sam Bass. The leader of the posse was a lawyer, a smart
man, and he knew exactly where Sam could be found and how he could be
taken. He bravely placed himself at the head of a group of heavily
armed men; he assured them that they would take the bandit and share
the liberal reward that had been set on his head. They rode away into
the night, they approached the lair of the fugitive; they knew they had
him—at least the leader knew it. But that was the trouble. Sam did not
run; therefore, the posse could not pursue. Sam seemed too willing to
be approached; that willingness was ominous. Sam was such a good shot,
so handy with a gun. The posse paused, it halted, consulted with the
leader. The leader’s voice had lost its assurance. The posse that had
ridden up the hill now rode down again. Sam Bass could not be found!
And until this day, when old-timers get together in that county some
one is sure to tell the story of that hunt. The wag of the courthouse,
a lawyer, reduced it to writing, and on such public occasions as
picnics and barbecues, he will read the account of “How Bill Sebasco
Took Sam Bass.” It was cleverly done and made as great hit with the
public as did Dave’s rendition of the song and story to the small boy.
In both cases all sympathy was with Sam Bass, all opinion against
Murphy and Bill Sebasco.
Thus in West Texas, from the judge in the courthouse to the small boy
in the furrow behind the hired man, was the story of Sam Bass told.
What was taking place in this county was occurring, with proper
variations, in every other county in the state, especially in those of
the north and west. The legend of Sam Bass was in the process of
becoming. Today it would fill a volume.
Few are the facts known relative to Sam Bass, but some of them are
these: Samuel Bass was from Indiana. He was born July 21, 1851, came to
Texas, raced horses, made his headquarters in Denton County,
participated in some bank robberies and train holdups. He became the
recognized leader of his band and enjoyed a wide reputation, which he
achieved before he was twenty-seven years old. In the summer of 1878 he
left Denton County with the intention of robbing a bank or train. With
him were Murphy, the man who had arranged to sell him out to the
officers of the law, also Seaborn Barnes and Frank Jackson. The plan
was made to rob the Round Rock bank on Saturday, July 20, 1878. En
route to Round Rock, Murphy sent a note to Major John B. Jones,
adjutant general of Texas, giving their plan. The result was that when
Bass reached Round Rock the town was full of Texas Rangers and other
officers of the law. On Friday Bass with Jackson and Barnes went into
Round Rock to look over the ground before their attempt to rob. While
purchasing tobacco in a store adjoining the bank, they were accosted by
officers of the law, and a battle ensued. Barnes was killed on the
spot, along with an officer. Bass escaped with a mortal wound, was
found next day in the woods, and died the following day, Sunday, July
21, 1878. On that day he was twenty-seven. Frank Jackson made good his
escape and has never been heard from since.
From these facts, the legend of Sam Bass has grown. Legend and fact are
inextricably mixed. I shall make no effort to separate the one from the
other, but shall set all down, much as I heard it.
Bass died gamely, as he lived. He refused to give any of his comrades
away, though he was rational until the end. “If a man knows any
secrets,” he said, “he should die and go to hell with them in him.”
Bass said that he had never killed a man, unless he killed the officer
in Round Rock. Frank Jackson wanted to remain and help Bass, but the
latter, knowing he was near the end, persuaded Jackson to leave him,
and gave him his horse to ride.
Bass and his men had camped near some negro cabins at Round Rock, not
far from the cemetery. Bass had an old negro woman, Aunt Mary Matson,
to cook some biscuits for him and to grind some coffee. When she had
done this, Bass gave her a dollar. He then asked, “Have you ever heard
of Sam Bass?” She told him she had. “Well, you can tell them you saw
Sam Bass,” he said, and went away.
His generosity was well known. He always paid for what he got from
individuals. He was particularly considerate of poor people. He would
give a poor woman a twenty-dollar gold piece for a dinner and take no
change. He paid the farmers well for the horses he took from them,
though sometimes he did not have time to see the farmer.
Sam Bass relics are scattered over the country, everywhere. Some say
that he gave his gun to Frank Jackson. Others declare he surrendered it
to the officers who found him. His belt with some cartridges in it is
in the library of the University of Texas. A carpenter at Snyder has a
horseshoe from Bass’s best race horse nailed to the top of his tool
chest. Near Belton are some live oak trees that Bass is said to have
shot his initials in while riding at full speed. Horns of steers
supposed to have been killed by Bass sell over the country at fancy
prices. In Montague County there is a legend of $30,000 of loot buried
by Sam Bass. Again, he is supposed to have left treasure in the Llano
country. At McNeill, near Austin, there is a cave in which Sam Bass hid
when he was in retirement. There he kept his horses and from there he
made his forays.
Finally, when Sam was dead, legend wrote an epitaph on his monument
which is not there. The legendary epitaph reads:
“Would That He Were Good as He was Brave.” No such inscription can be
deciphered on Bass’s monument. The monument has been badly mutilated by
souvenir collectors, but the inscription remains.
Samuel Bass
Born
July 21, 1851
Died
July 21, 1878
Aged 27 Years
In the lower right hand corner of the block on which the inscription
appears is the name of the maker, C. B. Pease, Mitchell, Indiana. The
people of Round Rock say that the monument was erected by a member of
his family about a year after Bass’s death.
More interesting than Bass’s rather pretentious monument is that of his
comrade, Seaborn Barnes, who sleeps the long sleep by his side. A rough
sandstone stands at the head of this grave. It has been chipped away
until the name is gone. The inscription, however, remains along with
the date of his death. Were there no legend of Sam Bass in Texas, this
inscription would make one. It is written in language Bass would have
loved; it has a certain impertinence to law abiding people in the
nearby graves, a certain pride in the leader at whose heels Barnes
died. The epitaph contains seven words. The spirit of the person who
wrote the seven words of that epitaph is the spirit that has created
the legend of Sam Bass in Texas.