Sam Bass, “Texas’s Beloved Bandit,” was a notorious outlaw whose wildly successful, yet brief career as a bandit and train robber earned him glory and adoration across Texas and beyond. In parts of Texas, his fame long rivaled that of Jesse James or Robin Hood. Bass’s circumstances and personality also added to his mystique as a “good” outlaw, for he was reputed to be kindhearted, generous, slow to anger, and only targeted the rich for his robberies. Popular belief in Texas in the decades following his death held Bass to be a good boy gone bad.
This portrait of American outlaw Sam Bass (1851–1878) was taken around 1875. In the popular lore of Texas, Sam Bass was something of a Robin Hood figure, a thief with a heart of gold who robbed from the rich bank and railroad interests who preyed upon the poor. Betrayed to the Texas Rangers by a turncoat companion, Bass was mortally wounded during a botched bank heist, a circumstance which only burnished further his already growing legend. (American Stock/Getty Images)
Born in Indiana and orphaned before the age of thirteen, Bass spent five years under the care of an uncle who refused to provide him with schooling. He ran away in 1869 and headed for Mississippi. There he worked in a saw mill and developed a fondness for gambling as well as becoming an expert shot with a pistol. Bass arrived in Denton, in north Texas, in 1870. He worked as a cowboy and ranch hand for several years (part of the time for the local sheriff, W. F. “Dad” Eagan) before purchasing a racehorse known as the Denton Mare in 1874.
Bass’s horse was one of the fastest in Texas, giving him the opportunity to quit toiling on local ranches and spend more time gambling and drinking in the Denton saloons with unsavory characters. He won races across central and north Texas, even in Indian Territory, where he allegedly stole a herd of Indian ponies after the losers refused to pay up. As the Denton Mare aged and wins became more infrequent, Bass returned to cow handling. In 1876, he and fellow cowboy Joel Collins drove a herd of longhorn cattle north to Deadwood, Dakota Territory, where they sold the herd for a profit of $8,000. Instead of returning to Texas (where they owed money for the cattle), Collins and Bass invested in a freight-hauling business, a combination brothel-saloon-gambling den, and finally in a gold mine. They quickly lost their money and to recoup their losses, they turned to crime.
After several modestly successful stagecoach robberies, Bass and his growing band of robbers planned a daring raid on an eastbound Union Pacific train rumored to be carrying gold from California. They rode south to Big Springs, Nebraska, and held up the train on September 18 or 19, 1877. The employee in the express car could not open the time-lock safe and was beaten severely for his failure. Legend has it that Bass intervened to save the man’s life. As the robbers were leaving, they discovered three lockboxes containing $60,000 in gold double eagles from the San Francisco mint. The gang made good its escape after robbing the passengers, and they soon became the most wanted men in the United States. Their robbery of the Union Pacific train was the largest in that company’s history.
The six bandits split up into pairs, each taking a share of the loot and heading in different directions. Joel Collins and another bandit were killed a few days after the robbery. Another gang member, James Berry, was wounded in a gunfight and captured in mid-October. Berry gave the names, descriptions, and destinations of the surviving robbers to the authorities, who began in earnest to hunt for Bass and the others.
Bass and another bandit, Jack Davis, obtained an old wagon and disguised themselves as farmers, making their way south into Texas. The disguise, and Bass’s cheerful nature, allowed them to allay suspicion along the way, and the two even camped near a cavalry detachment that was searching for the robbers. The soldiers helpfully warned Bass and his companion to be on the lookout for the bandits.
Bass returned to the Denton area, where he soon recruited a new band of desperadoes and returned to train robbery. The exploits of Bass and his bandits gained a wide following, especially after they robbed four trains in less than two months. Local and national press descended on Denton and nearby Dallas, fueling the public’s excitement and Bass’s fame. Dubbed “Sam Bass and Company” by the newspapers, the gang’s exploits became the stuff of legend in parts of Texas, inspiring fear in businessmen and bankers and admiration in the poor. The fact that none of the new gang were captured immediately and continued to rob trains into the summer of 1878 added to their fame.
The success and notoriety of Sam Bass and Company proved to be their undoing. The Texas Rangers were put on Bass’s trail, along with Pinkerton agents hoping to claim the substantial reward offered by the railroad. Eventually, more than a hundred bounty hunters, rangers, and other police were hunting Bass and his gang. However, Bass’s downfall came about by treachery. The rangers captured one of the gang, James W. Murphy, who was taken to Tyler, Texas, for trial. There he offered to betray Bass in exchange for a pardon and medical care for his ailing father. His offer was accepted, and Murphy rejoined Bass and Company. Despite his misgivings about Murphy’s loyalty, Bass continued to be accompanied by him on several robberies. Murphy kept the authorities informed of Bass’s whereabouts for several weeks, but they failed to capture him.
In July 1878, the gang headed south to Round Rock, where they decided to rob a local bank. Murphy was able to inform the rangers ahead of time, and several were hiding in Round Rock when the gang entered the town on the afternoon of July 19. They first went to a store and next to the bank, where the deputy sheriff and another man confronted them for carrying weapons. The Bass gang gunned down both men and fled. Outside, three Texas Rangers and several citizens opened fire on the gang, mortally wounding Bass and killing one of the bandits. Bass and fellow bandit Frank Jackson managed to escape on horseback. The rangers captured Bass the next day lying under a tree north of Round Rock. He was taken back to town for medical care, but nothing could be done to save his life. He died on his birthday, July 21, 1878, and was buried in Round Rock. Frank Jackson rode north and escaped justice. James Murphy lived in constant fear of being murdered by Jackson or some other friend of Bass for his betrayal, and often spent his nights sleeping in jail for protection. In the end, Murphy committed suicide by poison, less than a year after Bass’s death.
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969)
An iconic American outlaw film, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid was the highest grossing movie of 1969, and starred Paul Newman and Robert Redford in the title roles. Telling the story of the Un-Wilding of the West from the perspective of a pair of picaresque heroes, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid ends in Bolivia, where its protagonists quixotically end their days by squaring off against what seems to be the entire Bolivian army in perhaps the greatest underdog fight in American movie lore. The real-life Sundance Kid, aka Harry Longabaugh, was said to be the fastest, sharpest gun of the Wild Bunch gang; he and the historical Butch are supposed to have died in 1909 or 1911. Legends persist, however, that Sundance survived that last shoot-out in South America, returning to the United States and spending his remaining decades as Harry Long.
C. Fee
Like many other outlaws of the Old West, Bass’s legend grew after his death. His tombstone had to be replaced several times after souvenir hunters defaced it. Poetry and songs celebrated his deeds and in more recent years, he was featured in movies like Calamity Jane and Sam Bass (1949) and television westerns like Colt .45 (1959) and The Outlaws (1961). These often portrayed Bass as a hero in spite of his lengthy criminal record, reinforcing the popular image of Bass as a good boy gone bad.
David Raley
See also Boles, Charles E. “Black Bart”; Bonney, William “Billy the Kid”; Bonnie and Clyde; James, Jesse; Outlaw Heroes
Further Reading
Gard, Wayne. 1936. Sam Bass. Boston: Houghton Mifflin.
Gillett, James B. 1925. Six Years with the Texas Rangers, 1875 to 1881. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press.
Webb, Walter Prescott. 1935. The Texas Rangers: A Century of Frontier Defense. Austin: University of Texas Press.
Bass, Sam—Primary Document
Charles J. Finger, “The Song of Sam Bass” (1927)
Sam Bass, the Robin Hood of Texas, earned respect and admiration for his generosity as an outlaw. In an era when banks and railroads were vilified by frontier settlers, Bass’s willingness to share his spoils was the mark of a true hero. This folk ballad, published nearly fifty years after Sam Bass’s death, was purportedly sung by an old acquaintance. Contained within it is a rare glimpse at how folklore is created. The teller of the song provides a constant commentary on elements that in his opinion have been left out, underplayed, or exaggerated. In doing so, he subtly modifies the existing legend into a tale of his own.
“This is the song of Sam Bass. He was a true-blooded hero. He was a kindly natured fellow. I knew old Dad Egan, sheriff of Denton Country, Sam’s first boss. This is how the song goes:
Sam Bass was born in Indiana, which was his native home.
Before he reached young manhood, the boy began to roam.
(In Lawrence County, he was born. Eighteen fifty-one if the gravestone don’t lie, and July 21st)
He first came out to Texas a cowboy for to be.
(Working for Dad Egan, like I said. Then he drifted down to San Antone and after a while out to Uvalde County.)
He first came out to Texas a cowboy for to be—
A better hearted fellow you scarce could hope to see.
(All them fellows is good hearted. That’s their downfall. Their good heartedness is. But the dadgummed, jim-crow laws, they don’t care about a man’s good heartedness. Anyone knows that. See, where was I?)
Sam bought him first some race stock and also the Denton mare.
He matched her in all races and took her to the fair.
He fairly coined money and spent it frank and free.
He drank the best of whiskey wherever he might be.
(Let me tell this. That mare was sure good. Sam he put right smart of money into her. Cleaned up a lot, too, he did, I’d say. A little sorrel she was. Dad Egan offered Sam to give up the mare or quit his job, but Sam, he loved her like a child. A man can love a mare or his dog more faithful than a woman.)
He left where he was working one pretty summer day.
A-heading for the Black Hills with his cattle and his pay.
In Custer City sold the lot and then went on a spree,
His chums they was all cowboys rough and hard as they could be.
(Deadwood, it was—Deadwood, in the Dakotas. A wide-open town. Sam, his boss was Jo Collins who bought his cattle on time I’ve heard it said, but when he sold out, gambled and lost. So him and Sam they held up a stage coach or two, though the song don’t tell nothing of that.)
A-riding back to Texas they robbed the U.P. train,
For safety split in couples and started out again.
The sheriff took Jo Collins who had a sack of mail
And with his partner landed him inside the county jail.
But Sam got back to Texas all right side up with care.
And in the town of Denton he did his money share.
The lad he was so reckless, three robberies did he do,
The passenger and express car and the U.S. mail car, too.
(He was the boy to do that all right. I forgot to say that this here Jim Berry he got caught by a posse, shot in the knee and his leg bone was shattered. Old Dad he got away safe with his share. I’ll start up that again.)
Now Sam he had four pardners, all bold and daring bad.
There was Richardson and Jackson, Jo Collins, and Old Dad.
More daring bolder outlaws the rangers never knew,
They dodged the Texas rangers and beat them, too.
Sam had another pardner called Arkansaw for short,
But Thomas Floyd the ranger cut his career quite short.
This Floyd stood six feet in his socks and passed for mighty fly,
But them that knows will tell you he’s a dead beat on the sly.
(That about Floyd the ranger is only put in for the poetry of it.)
Jim Murphy was arrested and then let out on bail,
He jumped the train at Terrel after breaking Tyler jail.
But old Mayor Jones stood in with Jim and it was all a stall,
A put-up job to catch pore Sam, before the coming fall.
Sam met his fate at Round Rock, July the twenty-first.
They dropped the boy with rifle balls and then they took his purse,
Poor Sam he is a dead lad, and six foot under clay.
And Jackson’s in the mesquite aiming to get away.
(About this Murphy. Sam he was suspicious of him and wanted to shoot Murphy. Murphy and Jackson they was cousins and there ought to be something about that in the song. But there hain’t. Some poet ought to put it in. I tried but can’t quite make it go right. This Murphy he agreed to double-cross Sam, agreed with General Jones, and Sam he got to hear of it. That’s why he wanted to shoot him.)
Jim, he had took Sam Bass’s gold and didn’t want to pay,
His only idea it was to give brave Sam away,
He sold out to him and Barnes and left their friends to mourn—
And Jim he’ll get a scorching when Gabriel blows his horn.
(At Round Rock sure enough with Jackson holding the rangers back shooting with his right hand while he helped Sam get in the saddle. Jackson stuck by Sam to the end, with Sam shot through the kidneys. Three days Sam suffered and when he died he was buried at Round Rock. I seen the gravestone. Murphy, he committed suicide, drinking eye medicine, and there ought to be something about that in the song, but there hain’t.)
Perhaps he’s got to heaven, there’s none of us can say,
My guess it is and surmise, he’s gone the other way,
And if brave Sam should see him as in the place he rolls,
They’ll be a lively mix-up down there among the coals.
(I made up that last, to get the rights of it about Murphy going to hell.)
“There is a lot more verses,” said the old man in ending, “a regular raft of ‘em, a hundred more.”
Source: Finger, Charles J. “The Song of Sam Bass.” In Frontier Ballads. Garden City: Doubleday, Page, & Company, 1927, pp. 65–71.