barney sweeney "falls" for a bit of strategy, after

killing his pal in a fake hold-up down in

indian territory.

the old indian territory, now the eastern portion of the state of oklahoma, was the scene, or stage, of many daring hold-ups and brutal murders, during the early days, but no crime committed there was surrounded with more mystery than the one of which i am going to relate the particulars.

on the night of september 13th, 1882, as a north-bound m. k. & t. passenger train was being moved out onto the main line from a siding about a mile north of vinita, two men climbed onto the front platform of the smoker. "chick" warner, the conductor, espied them and opened the door. before a word had been spoken, one of the men shot the conductor in the cheek with a small caliber revolver, making a painful and dangerous wound. the man who is said to have done the shooting, was then shot and instantly killed by his companion, his lifeless body[pg 253] falling across the platform of the car. the man who did the killing stepped from the train and walked back to vinita station, where he reported to the station agent, who also represented the express company, that the train had been held up by the famous james brothers and ed miller. he named others who had often been mentioned as members of the notorious james gang. he stated that this gang had been camping in the woods, or brush, on little cabin creek, about four miles to the north and east of the scene of the alleged hold-up. he had known them all personally before coming to the territory, having been born and raised in clay county, missouri, near the former home of the james boys. he also said that he was a cousin of the jameses. when the gang went into camp on little cabin creek, it was near to a farm where his sister lived, and where he was staying. they met him and had told him that they intended to hold up and rob, not only that train, but other trains on the "katy," and invited him to join them. he also told the express agent that he was an expert marksman with a revolver and rifle, and that he had been practicing shooting with his gang, and had beaten them all shooting at a target, and that he agreed to aid them in holding up the train near vinita for the purpose of causing their arrest and punishment later on.

i was chief special agent of the gould system at that time, and the m. k. & t. was one of its leased properties. col. eddy, the general manager, wired me to go to vinita at once and investigate the affair, and instructing me further to prosecute all parties connected with the crime. i arrived in vinita the next day. i had no difficulty in establishing the identity of the man who had done the killing. his name was john b. (or barney) sweeney, formerly a resident of clay county, missouri, and whose reputation was all bad.

murderer, train robber and monumental liar who claimed

kinship with the james boys.

i ascertained that during the afternoon preceding the affair sweeney had been at vinita, and while standing on the platform of the railroad station he, with others, had seen the special train bearing general manager eddy pass, south bound. the telegraph operator, of course, knew it was col. eddy's train and that the colonel was aboard, and had conveyed the news to the spectators.

i learned that the man who had been killed was an unknown young man who had appeared at vinita but a few days before the trouble had occurred. he succeeded in making the acquaintance of a brother-in-law of sweeney's, who lived on a farm near the alleged camping place of the james gang on little cabin creek, and with whom sweeney was making his home. this brother-in-law needed help to work his corn field and employed the young man to go to work for him as a farm hand. the young man, who appeared to be a swede, or norwegian, and spoke but poor english, accompanied this man, whose name, i think, was powell, to his home and there met sweeney for the first time. i also learned that the latter had afterwards induced this unknown farm hand to accompany him and assist him in this attempted hold-up near vinita. sweeney had furnished the unknown with a little, light calibre, toy pistol, which was afterwards picked up near the scene of the killing. sweeney was a man about five feet seven inches tall, stout, stocky built, and about twenty-eight or thirty years of age, dark complexioned, dark small eyes, a luxurious head of black hair, a rather pretentious, long, dark mustache, and weighed about one hundred and seventy to eighty pounds. he was very quick and active in his motions, was a great braggart, and whenever occasion[pg 256] presented itself, never failed to tell people of his great marksmanship and how fearless he was. he was raised near missouri city, clay county, missouri, where his father owned a farm in what was known as the missouri river bottom. he had a sister, a young woman, who kept house for the father, his mother having died prior to the occurrence of which i write.

sweeney's father bore the reputation of being an honest, hard-working man, while his son had the reputation in clay county of being a suspected horse thief, a notorious liar, absolutely unreliable and a treacherous coward. he had been arrested and tried for the murder of a reputable farmer of the neighborhood, who was shot and killed one evening while sitting on the porch of his home with his infant baby in his arms. the shot was fired from behind a thick hedge, from the opposite side of the road, and from a distance of perhaps seventy-five feet from where the farmer was sitting. sweeney was seen going towards the farmer's house a short time before the shooting had occurred. he had also been seen returning to his home from the same direction some time after the shooting. he was carrying a rifle. he was arrested and tried for the murder of the man, and it was proved at the trial that he had once threatened the life of the murdered farmer, who lived but a short distance from his father's place, but he was acquitted, there being no direct evidence of his guilt. however, a great many people of clay county believed then, as they do up to the present day, that "barney" sweeney, as he was familiarly called, had been the murderer of the farmer.

a short time after this, by reason of his unpopularity, he left that part of clay county and went to live with his sister on little cabin creek. knowing the facts about[pg 257] sweeney's bad reputation, and after hearing the story he had told about the affair at vinita, i concluded to place him under arrest, charging him with having shot and seriously wounded conductor warner, as well as having murdered the man who he claimed was ed miller, or wilson, thinking, as i did, that i would surely be able to find out who this unknown man was. i knew that it was not ed miller, because i knew that he was dead, having been killed while attempting to rob a bank in a little town in minnesota. i also knew that at this time the james boys were not in or about the indian territory. frank james was living peaceably, as a good citizen, in tennessee. jesse, his brother, was also supposed to be somewhere in that vicinity. i knew where dick little, another member of the outfit, was making his home, and thus knew that sweeney was deliberately falsifying all the way through. to use stronger language, he was a deliberate liar.

at the time of which i write, captain sam. sixkiller, a full-blooded cherokee indian, was the chief of the united states indian police, and lived at muskogee. this police force was maintained by the united states government, and consisted entirely of indians of good reputation, and it was their duty to patrol the indian territory. they were armed and mounted, and were there to protect the law-abiding indians and other residents and their property, especially from whiskey peddlers, of which there were a great many plying their nefarious trade, selling the indians cheap whiskey at exorbitant prices, which was strictly prohibited by the federal laws governing the indian territory.

sixkiller and his force had all authority to arrest any person charged with a crime, on sight or on complaint. so after deciding to arrest sweeney, i wired from vinita to[pg 258] capt. sixkiller, at muskogee, requesting him to join me at vinita for the purpose of arresting this law-breaker, without mentioning sweeney's name.

in a short time i received an answer from sixkiller's physician stating that sixkiller was confined to his bed with a severe attack of fever. upon receipt of this information, i reported to luke sixkiller, a brother of the chief, who lived at vinita, and who was a member of the united states indian police force. i requested luke to accompany me to where sweeney was living with his brother-in-law to arrest him. luke promptly told me that he would not dare arrest sweeney unless his brother, the chief, was present. "why," he said, "this man sweeney is a terror. he is a wonderful shot with either rifle or pistol, and it will take at least a half-dozen men, well armed, to capture him. he is a desperate man, and so we will have to wait until the chief gets well enough to come and help capture him."

i had been accompanied to vinita by one of my assistants, whose name was william h. bonnell. he was a little fellow, only weighing about one hundred and thirty pounds, inclined to be tall, but slender, had plenty of nerve, and was a remarkably good marksman, always willing and anxious to do his duty, and would take as many chances as any man i ever knew. he had helped me to get the information which led me to the decision of arresting sweeney, and on hearing that sixkiller was sick he at once suggested that he and i go to the little cabin creek farm and capture sweeney ourselves. our conference took place in the evening, and i told bonnell that i would sleep over the matter and would decide by morning what should be done.

for many years one of detective furlong's trusted operatives

and noted for his fearlessness.

i had seen sweeney but once in my life, and that was[pg 259] about a year before in kansas city, he having been pointed out to me by an officer, but i was satisfied he did not know me, so after carefully considering the matter next morning, i decided that i would take a horse and ride over to the little cabin place alone. i felt sure if sweeney did not know me, or recognize me, that i would be able to bring him into vinita alone, with less trouble than if i was accompanied by another stranger, knowing, as i did, his treacherous and cowardly disposition. i reasoned that if he saw two strangers approaching his brother-in-law's[pg 260] house he was liable to open fire on us and might kill one or both of us before we could reach him, and that he would be less liable to open fire on a lone man. bonnell demurred, saying that i would probably get killed going over there alone, but for the reasons above stated, i decided to go alone.

i procured a horse from a livery stable and started. i reached the farm-house about 9:30 o'clock in the morning. i took a course across the open prairie, a distance of about four miles. on the other side of this i came to little cabin creek. there was a heavy growth of timber and thick underbrush on every side. the trail to the farm led directly through the brush timber for about two or three miles. at last i reached a set of bars that served for a gate directly in front of a two-story, frame farm-house, which stood in an open field, and about one hundred feet from the bars. the thick timber and undergrowth shut out a view of the house, and i did not see it until my horse had reached the bars. when i reached there i discovered the house and saw sweeney sitting on the porch in plain sight, and a winchester rifle was leaning up against the building near him. i got off my horse, placing the rein over the bar post, let down one of the bars and crawled through. as soon as i had got inside the bars sweeney commanded me to throw up my hands, and looking up at him i found that he had risen and was holding the winchester pointed at me. i halted. he said, "who are you and what do you want?"

i replied, "my name is foster, and i want to see mr. john b. sweeney."

"i am john b. sweeney," he said, "what do you want with me?"

i answered him by saying, "i beg your pardon, mr.[pg 261] sweeney, but is that gun loaded that you have pointed at me?"

he laughed and replied, "what the h—l do you think i would be doing with this gun if it were not loaded?"

"well," i said, "if that gun is loaded i wish you would turn the muzzle of it in some other direction. that horse that i have down there is one that i borrowed from the livery man at vinita to ride over here on, and if that gun would accidentally go off it might scare the horse and cause him to break loose or maybe hurt me. if the horse got away i would have a lot of trouble catching him, and if i did not catch him the livery man would make trouble for me. furthermore, i did not come over here anyway to get shot. if i had expected there would be any shooting i wouldn't have come."

"what did you come here for?" asked sweeney.

i said, "col. eddy, general manager of the m. k. & t. road, went south last night, passing vinita on his special train (said this, knowing that sweeney had been standing on the platform when the colonel's train had passed) and he wired me from eufaula, in a cipher, to come out here and see john b. sweeney and ask him to come over to vinita and meet him on his return north to parsons. he said in the message that he expected to arrive at vinita about eleven-thirty today, and that he wanted to have a private talk with you to arrange with him for your services in assisting in the capture of the parties implicated in the holdup that occurred at vinita a few days before. if you are mr. sweeney, and will accompany me back to vinita we will just about have time, by starting soon, to reach there before col. eddy's train arrives. the colonel does not want the people at vinita to know that you have met him, as he has been led to understand that the people[pg 262] of that town do not like you, so he will run his train onto the siding about a quarter of a mile from vinita, and we can leave our horses at the livery stable and walk to the side track, each of us taking different directions, and the people will know nothing about your having met the colonel."

sweeney replied, "i know them fellows at vinita are all afraid of me, and if col. eddy will give me a job and pay me enough i will get those train robbers for him. i will go with you."

he called his brother-in-law and said, "go and put the saddle on baldy." baldy was his horse. he turned to me and said, "come up and take a seat here on the porch while i go up and get ready to go with you."

he took his rifle and went upstairs. i took the seat he had previously occupied on the porch, to await his coming. i asked his sister to please give me a drink of water. i was terribly thirsty, caused, no doubt, by looking into the barrel of that winchester. i had only been seated a few moments when sweeney appeared in the doorway carrying in his left hand his nine-inch .45 six-shooter, colts, and in his shirt sleeves. he had left the winchester in the house. he said to me in a commanding voice, "you have found the way out here, and now you can get on your horse and lead the way back."

while he was speaking the brother-in-law brought the horse around, sweeney mounted it and i let down the bars. he motioned me to lead the way, which i did. he rode up close behind me, carrying his gun in his left hand, and continuously telling about how he had practiced shooting with the james gang while they had been camping near his home, and that he had beaten them. he also pointed out a clump of bushes in which he said the gang had camped[pg 263] during the several days that they had been in that neighborhood. after we had left the covered ground and come out onto the prairie i told sweeney that i occupied the corner room in the hotel at vinita the night before. i said, "i have not settled my bill and my grip is still in the room, and i think we had better ride to the livery stable and leave our horses, and you had better go to my room direct, and i will go from the stable to the telegraph office and find out from the operator where col. eddy's special train is and at what time it will arrive at vinita. i am getting hungry and if i find that we have time to get something to eat before the special arrives, i will order something. i will come direct to the room and tell you what i have learned."

we separated, sweeney going to the hotel and i, apparently, going to the telegraph office, which was in the opposite direction to that taken by sweeney. i did not stop at the telegraph office, but went around back of it, placing some buildings between sweeney and myself. i crossed the street at a point west of the depot and went around to the rear of the hotel, where there was a flight of stairs leading from the back yard to the second floor of the hotel from the outside. i ascended these stairs and went to my room, where i found the door standing about half way open and could see, through a crack between the door and the jamb sweeney lying down on my bed with his hat, boots and spurs on. he was taking things easy. i entered noiselessly, holding a small, double-barrel, remington derringer that i had taken from my pocket as i entered the room. i was whistling, and suddenly thrust the derringer into mr. sweeney's mouth, breaking two of his upper teeth loose. i told him to throw up his hands, and he was not long in obeying. with my left hand i unbuckled his belt and [pg 264]removed it from him. it contained the holster in which he had placed the nine-inch colts.

bonnell had noticed us when we arrived, and when we separated and as i crossed the street going to the hotel i gave him a signal to follow me. he entered the room just as i had disarmed sweeney. i told him to put handcuffs on the prisoner and to take him to the calaboose and lock him up. i had sweeney's meals sent to the lock-up.

when the next train arrived there, who should be on it but capt. sam sixkiller, who had left his sick bed and come up to vinita to assist me in making the arrest. he told me, on his arrival, that it would not do to take sweeney through muskogee, as the railroad men there were aroused and would undoubtedly attempt violence, for they had all come to the conclusion that sweeney was a fraud and was the man who shot conductor warner. warner was very popular among the employes of the road. so we boarded the north-bound train and brought sweeney to st. louis, transferring there to the iron mountain for little rock, arkansas. here we changed cars for the fort smith and little rock road, and thus reached fort smith, arkansas, in safety with our prisoner and without any interference from the railroad men.

sweeney never uttered a word from the time i disarmed him until we had boarded the train for st. louis and were probably twenty miles north of vinita. we were in the smoking car, capt. sixkiller and the prisoner ahead and i in a seat just behind them, when finally sweeney turned his head around towards me and said, "mr. foster, i wish you would please show me that gun you stuck into my mouth."

i took the cartridges out of the gun and handed it to him. it was not more than five inches in length and of .41 calibre. he examined it critically, and without turning his head handed it back to me over his shoulder, saying in a disgusted[pg 265] manner, "h—l, i thought that gun was a foot long."

we lodged him in jail at fort smith in due time. he was indicted and finally tried, but, because i was never able to find out who the unknown farmhand was that he had killed and the motive for the crime, he was acquitted. however, he had lain in jail for nearly a year, and on his release he returned at once to clay county, missouri, and wrote a letter to a. a. talmage, then general manager of the missouri pacific, demanding that mr. talmage send him ten thousand dollars immediately, and threatening that if he did not that he would blow up the bridge on the wabash railroad and destroy property in general, and in any event he would kill furlong on sight. he sent this letter through the united states mail. mr. talmage gave the letter to me, and i at once made a complaint to the united states commissioner, got a warrant for sweeney's arrest and went to his father's farm near missouri city, clay county, accompanied by a deputy sheriff, whose name i don't remember, but who was a brave and splendid officer. sweeney was at home. it was after night and he had gone to bed. we rapped for admission and the door was opened by his father, to whom we stated that we were officers and had a warrant for the arrest of his son, "barney." the latter was in bed upstairs, but heard us when we rapped for admission and had come to the head of the stairs with a shot-gun in his hand. he said, "i am here and i will kill any man who attempts to come up those stairs."

in an instant, and before i had time to think, the deputy sheriff, who had been standing beside me, sprang up the stairs. i followed him as quickly as possible, but before i had reached the top the officer had clinched with "barney" and had thrown him to the floor. i picked up the gun that sweeney had let fall, and in less time than it takes to tell[pg 266] it we had captured mr. sweeney without a shot being fired, so i feel safe in saying that he was an arrant coward as well as an inexcusable liar.

i took him to st. louis, where he was tried and convicted for having sent the threatening letter through the mail. he was sentenced to either three or four years in the penitentiary. he served his time and again returned to his father's home at missouri city. a short time later he held up and tried to rob a wabash passenger train at missouri city. in this attempt he was shot through the ankle by a telegraph operator. he tried to escape by running, but was captured by the train crew and the company's telegraph operator at that city. he was tried for this offense and sent to the penitentiary for fourteen years, and i had lost track of him until he recently turned up in st. louis as a witness against the new york life insurance company, in the famous kimmel case. he claimed to have visited the wilds of oregon with kimmel, a man named johnson and another party to search for some hidden treasure. a portion of the treasure was found. a row over its division resulted and johnson shot and killed kimmel. sweeney avenged kimmel's death by killing johnson on the spot. both of the dead men were buried near where they fell. on reading sweeney's story in the papers, which was almost a repetition of the story of the fake hold-up down in the territory, as related to the express officials and myself, i will admit i really sympathized with the attorney who had gone to the trouble and expense of getting sweeney here, knowing, as i did, that he was absolutely untruthful and unreliable.

i do not believe that i ever ran into as fun-loving a bunch of railroaders as the one which attended sweeney's trial. ft. smith was crowded, as was usually the case when court was in session. at that time there was only one "leading" hotel in[pg 267] town. it was a three-story, old-fashioned structure, the top story of which was one large room, or hall. social functions, such as balls and other gatherings, were usually held in this hall. when the railroad men arrived—there were about fifteen of them, including "chick" warner, ed smith, w. b. maxwell, "lute" welch and tom hall, all passenger conductors on the katy—all of the regular rooms had been taken. the proprietor, in order to take care of the boys as best he could, turned this large room, or hall, into a dormitory, placing therein several different kinds of beds and cots for them to sleep on. a large round table and a few rickety old chairs constituted the balance of the furnishings of the room. there was not much doing in the amusement line after dark in ft. smith in those days, so the railroaders retired to their rooms early—but not to sleep. the first seven or eight up the stairs, and there was always a race to see who would get upstairs first, would assemble themselves around the table and soon be busy playing a game of—well, there is no need of me naming it, as everybody knows the name of the game that usually interests the average railroad man most. i will add, however, that there was no "limit." by and by, those who were lucky enough to have to "sit out" would get sleepy and roll into their bed or cot, but they did not have a chance to get to sleep, the "i'll pass" or "i'll raise you" of the players keeping them awake until the game would break up, which was usually about the time the sun commenced to shine in at the windows in the early morning. the players would then retire and soon be snoring to beat the band. "chick" warner being a big, deep-chested man, had all his competitors skinned a mile at this snoring game. as soon as he hit the bed his snoring machinery would get in motion. then the real fun would begin. the balance of the gang would throw pillows, or shoes, or any old thing they could find at his head to wake[pg 268] him up. these efforts would not always be successful, however, and the snore would either increase in tone or volume.

at the breakfast table one morning, after there had been an unusually long "sitting" the gang decided to get even with "chick" warner, who was still in bed, by holding an old-fashioned irish wake at his bedside. charlie walters, an express company route agent, who was an artist of no mean ability, procured a piece of chalk and in less time than it takes to tell it, had transformed the head of the bed into a monument with very appropriate inscriptions thereon. some lumber was secured and a fence arranged around the bed, on which were placed a lot of empty beer bottles. a candle was placed in the neck of each bottle, and after these were lighted and the windows darkened, the bunch arranged themselves around the "bier" and commenced a weird chant. the noise made by the bunch attracted the attention of most of the people in the town, and the big room was soon filled. news of what was going on soon reached the court room and judge parker adjourned court and he and his officers and the lawyers and jurors rushed to the hotel to witness the fun-making. after an exceedingly loud and boisterous outburst of "grief" on the part of the "mourners" warner awoke. it did not take him long to break up that "wake," as he at once began raising a rough house by throwing everything he could get hold of at his tormentors. the affair was the talk of the town for some time to come, and is to this day referred to when two or three of the gang happen to get together.

on the sunday following, the citizens of the town, to show their appreciation of the bunch as good fellows, decided to give them a carriage ride and show them the places of interest. judge parker, in his private conveyance, was to lead the procession. as none of the vehicles had been decorated, as some of the railroaders thought they should be, they[pg 269] decided to do some decorating on their own hook. an empty beer keg was procured and with a rope it was anchored to the rear axle of the judge's conveyance. as the judge's abstemious habits were known to all the citizens of the town, the sight of the beer keg under his buggy created a great deal of amusement on the part of the citizens when they saw it as the carriage was drawn through the streets. the judge did not discover the trick that had been played on him until after the ride was over, but he seemed to enjoy the joke as much as did the jokers.