Bill Longely
1851 - 1878
Gunfighter Bill Longley was a heller for sure. He had a
anti-Negro complex and took it out savagely with twin Colts and
no-church conscience. They say he shot a Negro dead for just
sassing his pa.
He was born in 1851 in Austin County, Texas. His father had been a proud member of Sam Houston's army, so he
understood guns and passed this heritage on to his son, who learned to use them so effectively.
Bill hated the free Negro. One night he rode hell-bent through
Lexington and shot down eight black men. He was just ornery mean.
It is little wonder that he struck terror to the Negro heart.
This was his inroad to gun throwing. He wore guns strapped to his
waist and the tie-thongs went about his legs so that you didn't have to
guess whether he was a killer or not.
The Federals had a count against him and tried to ride him down. Bill killed a cocky sergeant
and then lit out for Arkansas. His
campfire lured a bum by the name of Johnson (in reality a horse
thief). The Feds rode up on them one night and strung them up to
a tree, then switched the horses out from under them. Before
riding off into the night, however, they took a shot at the dangling
figures. Johnson strangled and died. Bill was lucky to have
his rope struck by a stray bullet and landed on his feet very much
alive.
Luck was with him when he ran into one of the bragging Feds who was telling about how he
had hung a big fellow to an oak. He found himself looking into twin barrels of eternity
and Bill Longley telling him to march. Bill led him to the same tree and hung him to the same
limb.
Bill rode trail-herd to Abilene, Kansas, and the trail boss was a
cussed wretch who liked to brag about his shooting and drawing
ability. One night, by the campfire, he told Bill he could
outdraw him. Bill unlimbered but forgot it was in fun and shot
the man dead.
He
was indeed a dedicated Texan. He heard a man loudly declare, as he
bellied up to the bar, that all Texans were "hoss thieves" and their
women prostitutes. There was nothing for Bill to do but slap him
across the mouth, which knocked him down, and then kill him. He
rode out of Abilene when he heard that Wild Bill Hickok would not
tolerate any shooting.
Bill
often found money hard to come by, and so he had to pick a fight with a
wanted man, cut him down, then collect the five hundred-dollar reward
from the sheriff. In this particular instance, he used some of
the money to buy a pair of pistols. In those days, one had to
spin the gun, try the balance, cock it, flick the barrel, and again try
the balance. Bill did this and went to the trouble to put a
couple of shells in the empty chambers, saw a Negro sauntering across
the street, leveled off and killed him. He told the storekeeper
casually that they were fine weapons and then paid for them. The
sheriff came running and tried to place Bill under arrest. "I
guess I'll have to kill you, too, said Bill, and he shot the lawman in
the belly.
The
U. S. Government had put a bounty on his head in Fredericksburg, Texas,
and the law grabbed him as he was eating dinner and took him to the U.
S. Marshal. The government refused to pay a reward.
Bill sent a wire to his folks and they sent a rider on over with the
money, and so Bill walked scot-free.
Bill drifted down into Old Mexico and shot up two or three
Mexican gunslingers, then killed another man with his bare fists
because he had no gun to match his. Near San Antonio, he shot
another fellow and had to unload both guns before the man would settle
down and die.
Bill
made his fatal mistake when he avenged the death of his cousin by
killing a man in public. He was captured at once and sentenced to
hang. His only jail complaint was that he felt he should get as
lenient a sentence as that which was pronounced on John Wesley Hardin,
another famous gunslinger.
Bill Longley was only 27 years of age in 1878 with 31 dead men to
his credit. He lit his last cigar and climbed to the
gallows. He literally smiled at his executioners, who themselves
were trembling. When the trap was released, the rope slipped and
Bill landed catlike on his feet. "This time hang the sonofabitch
for good!" the jailer cried. And this time they did and Bill died
in exactly 11 minutes – a great gunfighter.
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