Butch Cassidy (23 page)

Another example involved Phillips’s mention of a location he referred to only as “Lone Bear’s Village” near a bend in the Wind River. Subsequent research revealed that the Arapaho Indians, under a Chief Lone Bear, had been moved to the Wind River Reservation. “Only a person who had visited Lone Bear’s village before [1906],” wrote Pointer, “could have described the Arapaho camp.”

As with the two above, there were many other examples that strongly supported the contention that William Phillips was extremely intimate with this area during the time it was frequented by the outlaw, Butch Cassidy.

Concluding his examination and appraisal of the Phillips manuscript, Pointer determined it was “authentic . . . it is the autobiography of Butch Cassidy. The personal emotions and details from the outlaw’s life could have been related by none other.”

Additionally, Phillips included in his manuscript details about the life and times of Butch Cassidy in between robberies and other commonly recorded events, details that are absent from the historical record.

Many researchers are passionate about their belief that William T. Phillips and Butch Cassidy were one. Likewise, numerous skeptics are equally passionate about the notion that the two men could not have been the same.

No absolute proof exists for either contention, and much of the evidence offered in support of the conflicting claims is arguable and carries with it cadres of supporters and detractors.

For the contention that Butch Cassidy and William T. Phillips are the same man, we need an orderly and logical presentation of what is known, a critical evaluation of the evidence, and a deductive ratiocination based on that evidence.

The following chapter offers an analysis of what is known about Butch Cassidy and William T. Phillips.

Eighteen

What Was the Fate of Butch Cassidy?

Despite the thousands of man-hours invested in the study of Butch Cassidy, the outlaw’s life remains extremely cryptic and disputable. Even today, no one is entirely certain which train robberies and bank holdups Cassidy was involved in. It should be no surprise to anyone, therefore, that his death remains equally enigmatic and controversial.

Determining what actually happened to the outlaw Butch Cassidy is extremely difficult for a number of reasons. First of all, with the passage of a century, records and accounts of the day pertaining to Cassidy and related events are incomplete, if they existed in detail at all. It is fortunate, as well as fine testimony to the patience and perseverance of some conscientious researchers and investigators, that we possess as much information and knowledge about Cassidy and his life and times as we do. But regardless of what has been found and archived, the record remains astonishingly incomplete.

It is certainly easy to understand why the record is incomplete, particularly as it relates to his life from the time he fled from the United States to South America: Butch Cassidy was a wanted man intent on burying his past and pursuing a different kind of life. Purposely, he made his movements and activities throughout much of South America as secretive as possible. Save for employers and only a few acquaintances, he avoided and eluded any contact with the population at large. The reason is quite simple and quite apparent: while Butch Cassidy was on the run, he did not want to be found.

Second, regardless of whether we are willing to admit it or not, the 1969 William Goldman film
Butch Cassidy and the
Sundance Kid
generated perceptions in the minds of the public that, though in most cases depart considerably from the truth, are nevertheless extremely difficult to dislodge. Even worse, many who presume to research and write about the history of Butch Cassidy, the Wild Bunch, and related topics, are often victims of these erroneous perceptions and are unable to distinguish truth from lore and fiction. As a result of their ultimate publications, many of these writers simply perpetuate and reinforce the popular, but often false, perceptions, rather than correcting them. This has been the case with numerous books and articles about American outlaws.

Third, a lot of the so-called research conducted in, along with the subsequent writing about, the field of Western outlaw history in general, and that pertaining to Butch Cassidy in particular, is performed not by qualified and credentialed historians and investigators but by hobbyists and history buffs. While a number of these hobbyists are competent writers, experience has proven time and again that their research methodology, if it exists at all, is lacking or questionable. Far too often, research to many of these enthusiasts amounts to little more than collecting and repeating information that has already been published.

The noted author Ramon Adams once stated,

Nowhere has research been so inadequate or writing so careless as in the accounts of western outlaws and gunmen. Indeed, many chroniclers seem to delight in repeating early sensational and frequently untrue stories without any real attempt to investigate the facts.

In case after case, particularly as it relates to Butch Cassidy, very little in the way of truly professional research and sophisticated investigative technique accompanied by inductive and deductive analysis is ever undertaken.

There are several reasons for this. It has been suggested, and quite correctly, that the majority of competent and qualified historical researchers are employed by colleges and universities throughout the country. These individuals have been schooled in proper and effective research methodologies and, for the most part, can be regarded as experts in American history. Sadly, however, most colleges and universities do not regard Western outlaw history important enough to merit their time and attention. University scholars tend to pursue studies of a more universal orientation, and many academic institutions encourage or require their professors to devote their energies to matters perceived to be of greater import. Besides, studies in American outlaw history do not attract significant funding, and more and more university professors are under pressure to secure monies for their research activities.

Call it elitist, if you will, but outlaw history is just not ranked very high in importance among many of the nation’s universities and their associated historians. Even those few qualified historians who do, in fact, spend some time pursuing outlaw studies too often know their subjects via the prevailing folklore and other discredited treatments. Additionally, legitimate professional and peer-reviewed publication outlets for such studies are rare.

Unfortunately for truth, much of the attention given to outlaw history has fallen into the hands of the enthusiasts, hobbyists, and history buffs, all good people, but people who generally possess little or nothing in the way of qualifications or credentials and who have limited knowledge of correct research methodology and technique. However pure their motives, they are largely responsible, as a result of incomplete and incorrect research accompanied by very little, if any, investigation and often very poor reporting, for clouding the historical truth. Many of them simply do not recognize the differences between hearsay and fact.

For most of them, the largest market for the publication of articles on their “research” is in pulp magazines that offer no peer review and questionable editing, and whose mission is less related to truth than it is to selling magazines. Another outlet for such writers has been the self-publishing or vanity publishing of books that have evaded all of the proper professional treatments any serious work demands and deserves. As a result, much of the so-called history of notable American outlaws such as Billy the Kid, Jesse James, and, of course, Butch Cassidy has evolved to a number of oft-repeated and unsubstantiated tales, and an absence of fact-checking, all of which help to further muddy the waters and cover the truth with an unnecessary sediment of error.

Poor chronicling and unsubstantiated research as it relates to Butch Cassidy began with Arthur Chapman’s 1930 account of the San Vicente shootout. In 1938, Charles Kelly followed with his book
The Outlaw Trail
, which relied heavily on Chapman’s version of events but contributed even more hearsay and lore disguised as fact. In 1941, George D. Hendricks released
The Bad Man of the
West
, which perpetuated the growing mythology. James D. Horan included treatments of Butch Cassidy in four books, the first of which was published in 1949, the last in1976. Historian Frank Richard Prassel refers to Horan’s books as “less than entirely reliable” and containing “numerous assumptions.” Among a large number of amateur historians, the abovementioned books continue to be regarded as authoritative.

Fourth, there exists in the field of Western outlaw and lawman history a passion for the status quo, a certain reverence for things and events as they have long been thought to occur. Anything that challenges the prevailing thought, or more precisely the collective thinking of a cadre of self-appointed “experts,” is commonly attacked, denigrated, and generally deemed unacceptable. Many of these so-called experts are not intimate with proper investigation techniques, are incapable of such themselves, and seem to resent it in others who choose not to align with them and other hobbyists and amateur outlaw historians.

For example, in 1998, I presented contemporary findings relative to the controversy over whether Billy the Kid survived the alleged shooting by Sheriff Pat Garrett in Fort Sumner, New Mexico, in 1881. Rather than enter into discussion or debate, Western lore enthusiasts who clung tightly to the historical status quo, many of whom were published in the aforementioned pulps, sent threatening letters and warnings. Because the status quo as it relates to the fate of Billy the Kid was threatened, those opposed to the premise bowed up and criticized the results of the study without ever once responding to an invitation to deliberate. The findings, all based on original research, competent investigation, state-of-the-art technology, and statistically valid analysis, were never responded to by the critics. When the hobbyists were invited to debate and have an opportunity to prove me in error on television, in newspapers, and in magazines, they never responded.

Humankind’s view of history is never static. As more and more information becomes available, notions about what has happened often change, are modified, and are sometimes thrown out altogether. At one time in history, the idea of geocentrism—the earth is the center of the universe—ruled scientific thought. At one time in the not too distant past, the process of continental drift was believed to be embraced only by madmen. Today, examples of the reality and consequences of the shifting crustal plates are endless. It is no longer theory, as some would have you believe, but well-established, provable, scientific fact.

So it is with Western outlaw history. While many of these topics have been seemingly researched and written about as completely and thoroughly as can be expected, very few of them have, in truth, been investigated. The words
research
and
investigate
are often used interchangeably, and in many cases can overlap, but the latter, in the words of investigator Joe Nickell, “connotes a particular type of scholarly or scientific examination or inquiry.” Applying this concept to historical investigation, Nickell defines it as “that aspect of research in which appropriate methodologies are applied toward the resolution of historical conundrums.”

The goal of the investigator is the accumulation and development of proof sufficient to solve the problem. One important problem encountered here is that the standard of proof required to settle historical questions has never been codified. Clear and convincing evidence that leads to proof beyond a reasonable doubt is an extremely high standard that, unfortunately, generally remains impractical relative to historical questions and conundrums. This high standard is often forsaken for a lower one, one that simply relies on a preponderance of evidence.

When more than one hypothesis can account for the known, established facts, the one with the fewest assumptions is most likely correct. This principle is known as Occam’s Razor, the “principle of parsimony,” which essentially implies that the simplest explanation is usually the right one.

Butch Cassidy’s alleged death and return is a historical conundrum, or more accurately, a set of historical conundrums. To solve this conundrum, we can only make analyses, inferences, and deductions using the existing evidence, and there is precious little substantial evidence. What evidence does exist, however, can provide some important direction toward solving the problem.

There are three events, or issues, relative to Butch Cassidy that must be explored pertinent to determining the fate of the outlaw. First, it must be ascertained whether or not he was involved in the robbery of the Aramayo payroll. Second, it must be determined whether or not it was Butch Cassidy who was involved in the San Vicente incident—the arrival, the so-called shootout, and the burial. And third, elements and evidence of the alleged return of Butch Cassidy must be evaluated.

Finally, given a thorough analysis infused with logic, inductive and deductive reasoning, and a dose of common sense, a conclusion can be made, a conclusion based on the amount and quality of the evidence, a conclusion invoking Occam’s Razor.

The Robbery

There is little reason to doubt that a robbery of the Aramayo mine payroll occurred on or about November 4, 1908. The principal witness to the robbery was Carlos Peró, a mine official and the man in charge of escorting the payroll. However, Peró’s identifications and descriptions remain suspect for they are entirely contradictory; thus, it would be dangerous to rely on his testimony that the robbers were Butch Cassidy and Harry Longabaugh. It would be useful if additional evidence existed that linked Cassidy and Longabaugh to the robbery, but there is none.

Researchers Ann Meadows and Dan Buck have offered what they interpret as additional evidence that Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid were guilty of the Aramayo payroll robbery: the memoirs of one A. G. Francis, a British mining engineer who was working in southern Bolivia at the time.

According to an article written by Francis and published in 1913, two men he “judged to be Americans” arrived at his camp sometime in August 1908. The strangers introduced themselves as Frank Smith and George Low and claimed they were stockmen on their way to Argentina. The three men enjoyed a fairly pleasant visit accompanied by friendly conversation during the next few days. Then, Smith and Low departed.

Francis encountered the same two men a second time in Tomahuaico, where he had later moved his operations—they rode into his camp only a few hours following the Aramayo robbery. According to Francis, one of the men described how they relieved Carlos Peró of the payroll money and fled.

The following day, an Indian arrived in camp to inform the three men that, in response to the robbery, a military detachment had been sent out and was on its way Tomahuaico. To Francis’s dismay, his visitors asked him to guide them, telling him they were going to Uyuni.