Poker & Pop Culture: The Long, Strange Life of the Dead Man’s Hand

This week we conclude our survey of “saloon poker” with some consideration of the most famous hand ever played in a saloon, the last one ever played by James Butler “Wild Bill” Hickok — a.k.a, the “dead man’s hand.”

“I’m Sort of Public Property”

Hickok was a well known figure for several years prior to that fateful August afternoon in Nuttal & Mann’s Saloon No. 10.

Born in Illinois in 1837, by his late twenties Hickok had already collected a number of adventures, including enduring a bear attack, working with the Pony Express, and serving the Union Army in various capacities during the Civil War. He’d also been involved in a couple of shootings, most notably the first widely reported “quick draw” duel in which he killed a man named David Tutt following a dispute about poker debts (and, likely, a woman).

In the fall of 1865 — not long after the Tutt duel — Hickok’s notoriety had grown enough to earn him a visit from journalist George Ward Nichols. Later, in the February 1867 issue of Harper’s New Monthly Magazine, Nichols would tell Hickok’s story to a national audience, going to great lengths to present Hickok as some sort of gunslinging god among men.

Wild Bill Hickok (ca. 1873-74)

Upon meeting Hickok, Nichols sketches him as the epitome of rugged, Old West manhood, possessed with the “handsomest physique I had ever seen” and “a singular grace and dignity of carriage.” Nichols seems spellbound by Hickok’s appearance, describing his eyes as “gentle as a woman’s.” Continuing his impression of Hickok, he even suggests “the woman nature seems prominent throughout” — until, that is, Nichols remembers that “you were looking into eyes that had pointed the way to death to hundreds of men.”

In case you missed that, Nichols repeats it.

“Yes, Wild Bill with his own hands has killed hundreds of men. Of that I have not a doubt.”

It’s an exaggeration, of course, not unlike the fabricated story about Bat Masterson having killed 26 men by the age of 27 published a few years later in the New York Sun. Such hyperbolic tales of “Wild West” figures were popular, though, in post-Civil War America, often creatively enhanced by audience-seeking journos like Nichols.

Nichols briefly relates the story of the shootout with Tutt, then asks Hickok if he himself ever felt fear. Hickok admits he has. “They may shoot bullets at me by the dozen, and it’s rather exciting if I can shoot back,” Hickok explains. “But I am always sort of nervous when the big guns go off.”

A demonstration of Hickok’s skill with a pistol follows, then Nichols wraps up his report noting “it would be easy to fill a volume with the adventures of that remarkable man.” Before departing, Nichols asks Hickok if he might be permitted to share with the world his story.

“Certainly you may,” Hickok replied. “I’m sort of public property.”

Wild Bill Hickok at Cards

The Harper’s story catapulted Hickok to nationwide fame, accompanying him wherever he went as he proceeded to work in various locales as a lawman. Stories of his poker playing continued as well, and it was in both contexts — as an upholder of the law and at the card tables — that Hickok would become involved in more shootouts.

One such scene is imagined in N.C. Wyeth’s 1916 oil painting of “Wild Bill Hickok at Cards” (appearing above). Another oft-repeated (and perhaps invented) story attributes a classic Old West poker line to Hickok.

While playing an opponent he suspected was cheating, Hickok called a bet and saw his opponent turn over jacks full. Hickok responded by showing his hand and declaring a winner, aces full of sixes. When his opponent saw only three aces and a single six, he objected.

“There’s only one six,” he said.

Hickok then pulled out his pistol. “Here is the other six,” he said, and his opponent conceded the pot.

Eventually Hickok’s career as a lawman would end with his losing a position as a marshal in Abilene, Kansas after accidentally shooting and killing a deputy. (Poor eyesight, perhaps caused by glaucoma, may have contributed to the mistake.)

He’d marry an older woman in Wyoming, and soon after a 39-year-old Hickok …

continue reading in source www.pokernews.com