9/9/21 8:55 am
another small project, the hoodoo nook of storie for children
it was initially the hoodoo book of wisdom but i was having
trouoble translatiing wisdom to child narrative, stories are
easiier, but i found a file called hoodoo book of tales and its
historical beats i want to run stories off, i got harriet
and david walker, got eh beginng ofothers liike deadwood dick
when i run across bio info of little known haints i put it in
this file, ima do riffs on these two folk stagecoach mary fields
and black herman
(boy, fin a major project and all that energy
gets released,lets see what you do with it . .
at some point going to have to dig into novel
but apparently trying to clear decks 1st)
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STAGECOACH MARY
feeling like stagecoach mary today stagecoach driving sister who always came thru
throw a pistol down on whoever come after her, man or wolf, she didnt take no abuse
but shes a trooper, and when it came time to pull the plug she made sure he went out w/dignity
told this story at his funeral, probably should have rethought it since if values friends over family
i am reminded of the african story of the hunter
who while on the hunt accidentally killed one of the kings men
he went to his brother and said I have killed the kings man
what should I do - his brother said I wish I could help you but I have a
family of my own that I must think of, surely you understand
he went to his father in law and said I have killed the kings man,
what should I do - his father in law, a man of power, said I wish I could help you
but I have responsibilities and people who rely upon me, you must go
he went to his friend and said I have killed the kings man - what should I do
come said his friend, we must bury him
imogunla took a lot of my secrets to the grave w/him
i watched him die and by god and all thats holy I will help him live
in myth and legend (and the works of his peers) - for I am mythmaker
and this story has yet to be told
BlackCowboys.com
Famous Cowboys . . .
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Mary Fields
EX-SLAVE MARY FIELDS FELT AT HOME IN MONTANA, WHETHER WORKING IN A CONVENT OR MANAGING A MAIL ROUTE.
A Black gun-totin' female in the American wild west. She was six feet tall; heavy; tough; short-tempered; two-fisted; powerful; and packed a pair of six-shooters and an eight or ten-gauge shotgun. A legend in her own time, she was also known as STAGECOACH MARY.
Mary Fields was born as a slave in Tennessee during the administration of Andrew Jackson -- a feisty sort with whom she shared driving ambition, audacity, and a penchant for physical altercation on a regular basis. She smoked rather bad homemade cigars.
Well after the Civil War loosened things up, as a free woman in 1884, having made her way to Cascade County (west central Montana) in search of improved sustenance and adventure, she took a job with the Ursuline nuns at their mission in the city of Cascade -- such as it was. (Cascade that is, not the job, although it was not much to speak of either.) Called St. Peter Mission, the nuns' simple frontier facility was relatively well funded, if remote, and the nuns did a thriving business converting heathen savages, and other disgusting customers, to the true path of salvation -- although not salvation from the white men.
Anyway, Mary was hired to do 'heavy work' and to haul freight and supplies to keep the nuns' operation functional and well fed. She chopped wood, did stone work and rough carpentry, dug certain necessary holes, and when reserves were low she did one of her customary supply runs to the train stop, or even to Great Falls, or the city of Helena when special needs arose.
On such a night run (it wasn't all that far, but it was cooler at night), Mary's wagon was attacked by wolves (maybe they wanted some of the dried beans or nun suits on board). The terrified horses bolted uncontrollably and overturned the wagon, thereby unceremoniously dumping Mary and all her supplies onto the dark prairie.
The more doubtful part of the story further says that Mary kept the wolves at bay for the whole of the night with her revolvers and rifle. How she could see them in the pitch black night is not explained however, but she did survive and eventually, when dawn broke, got the freight delivered, to the great relief of the nuns who had spent more than $30 on the goods in question (which was their principle concern). At the same time, they had no hesitation to dock Mary's pay for the molasses that leaked from a keg which was cracked on a rock in the overturn.
At least Mary was prepared for such inconveniences as wolves (or others -- such as drunken cowboys), being heavily armed at all times, and ready for a fist-fight at the drop of a hat. "Pugnacious" is not really an adequate word to describe her demeanor.
Since she did not pay particular attention to her fashion statement, and otherwise failed to look and act the part of a woman in the Victorian age (albeit on the frontier), certain ruffian men would occasionally attempt to trample on her rights and hard won privileges. Woe to all of them.
She broke more noses than any other person in central Montana; so claims the Great Falls Examiner, the only newspaper available in Cascade at the time.
Once a 'hired hand' at the mission confronted her with the complaint that she was earning $2 a month more than he was ($9 vs. $7), and why did she think that she was worth so much money anyway, being only an uppity colored woman? (His name, phonetically, was Yu Lum Duck.) To make matters worse, he made this same complaint and general description in public at one of the local saloons (where Mary was a regular customer), and followed that up with a (more polite) version directly to Bishop Filbus N.E. Berwanger himself (to no avail).
This was more than enough to boil Mary's blood, and at the very next opportunity the two of them were engaged in a shoot-out behind the nunnery, next to the sheep shed. (Actually it turned into a shoot-out, because when Mary went to simply shoot the man as he cleaned out the latrine -- figuring to dump his body in there -- she missed. He shot back and the fracas was on.)
Bullets flew in every direction until the six-guns were empty, and blood was spilt. Neither actually hit the other by direct fire, but one bullet shot by Mary bounced off the stone wall of the nunnery and hit the forlorn man in the left buttock, which completely ruined his new $1.85 trousers. Not only that, but other bullets Mary fired passed through the laundry of the bishop, which was hanging on the line, generously ventilating his drawers and the two white shirts he had had shipped from Boston only the week before. What his laundry was doing at the nunnery is not clear.
That was enough for the bishop; he fired Mary, and gave the injured man a raise.
Out of work and needing some, Mary took a stab at the restaurant business in Cascade. Unfortunately Mary's cooking was rather basic, which means that nobody would eat it, and the restaurant closed in short order. She was looking for work yet again.
In 1895, she landed a job carrying the United States Mail. Since she had always been so independent and determined, this work was perfect for her, and quickly she developed a reputation for delivering letters and parcels no matter what the weather, nor how rugged the terrain. She and her mule, Moses, plunged through anything, from bitterly raw blizzards to wilting heat, reaching remote miner's cabins and other outposts with important mail which helped to accommodate the land claim process, as well as other matters needing expeditious communication. These efforts on her part helped greatly to advance the development of a considerable portion of central Montana, a contribution for which she is given little credit.
Known by then as Stagecoach Mary (for her ability to deliver on a regular schedule), she continued in this capacity until she reached well into her sixties, but it wore her down. She retired from the mail delivery business, although she still needed a source of income. So, at the age of seventy, she opened a laundry service, also in Cascade.
Figuring that by now she deserved to relax just a bit, she didn't do a lot of laundry, but rather spent a considerable portion of her time in the local saloon, drinking whiskey and smoking her foul cigars with the sundry assortment of sweating and dusty men who were attracted to the place. While she claimed to be a crack shot, actually her aim toward the cuspidor was rather general, to the occasional chagrin of any nearby fellow patrons -- never mind, she did laundry.
One lout failed to pay his bill to her however (he had ordered extra starch in the cuffs and collar). Hearing him out in the street, she left the saloon and knocked him flat with one blow - at the age of 72. She told her wobbly drinking companions that the satisfaction she got from that act was worth more than the bill owed, so the score was settled. As luck would have it, the tooth of his that she knocked out was giving him trouble anyway, so there was no reprisal. Actually, he was grateful.
In 1914 she died of a failure of her liver. Neighbors buried her in the Hillside Cemetery in Cascade, marking the spot with a simple wooden cross which may still exist today.
In spite of her drinking, and cigar smoking, and occasional fisticuffs, townsfolk were hard pressed to believe that this mellow (!?) old woman of 80 was the hard shooting and short-tempered female character of earlier years they had heard so much about. But they were wrong, she was.
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I am Mary Fields.
People call me "Black Mary."
People call me "Stagecoach Mary."
I live in Cascade, Tennessee.
I am six feet tall.
I weigh over two hundred pounds.
A woman of the 19th Century,
I do bold and exciting things.
I wear pants.
I smoke a big black cigar.
I drink whiskey.
I carry a pistol.
I love adventure.
I travel the country,
driving a stagecoach,
delivering the mail to distant towns.
Strong, I fight through rainstorms.
Tough, I fight through snowstorms.
I risk hurricanes and tornadoes.
I am independent.
No body tells me what to do.
No body tells me where to go.
When I'm not delivering mail,
I like to build buildings.
I like to smoke and drink in bars with the men.
I like to be rough.
I like to be rowdy.
I also like to be loving.
I like to be caring.
I like to baby sit.
I like to plant flowers and tend my garden.
I like to give away corsages and bouquets.
I like being me, Mary Fields.
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Black Herman's Last Performance
On April 15, 1934, Benjamin Rucker, magician, seer, spiritualist, and fortune teller extraordinaire, appeared at a Louisville, Kentucky theatre where he and his entourage had been giving regular performances since February. What nobody suspected at the time was that this would be the famous magician's final performance.
Though he had already been warned by his doctor about overwork, the 45-year-old Rucker, known affectionately as "Black Herman" to his fans, refused to slow down even after nearly collapsing on the day following his performance. While convalescing in bed, he took time to write a letter to his wife, Eva, advising her that his end was near and that she would need to carry on without him. Then, while chatting with his associates, he began coughing up blood. After what doctors would later determine was a hemorrhage affecting his overtaxed heart, Herman Rucker died that same day *.
It probably said a lot about "Black Herman's" reputation as a magician and seer that news of his death left many people skeptical. Already well known for his colourful stunts and flamboyant performances, rumours that he had faked his death as part of an elaborate trick spread all through his beloved Harlem. That he was justifiably famous for his "buried alive" stunt (more on that later) probably helped feed the rumours even as Herman's body was sent home to New York and prepared for burial.
So, who was Herman Rucker? And why was his death so hard for many to accept? Well, to understand that, you would need to learn more about his colourful history.
Born in Amherst, Virginia on June 6, 1889 to Harry and Louisa Rucker, Benjamin's early years seemed unremarkable enough. Despite rumours that he had been born in Africa and had actually brought to America (at least, that's what his obituary suggests), he seemed to have had the typical upbringing shared by all African-Americans of that era. That included being educated in Lynchburg and working in various odd jobs including being a farm hand, construction worker, chef on the Pennsylvania Railroad, and as a bellhop in a local hotel.
But Benjamin Rucker quickly became tired of his home town and moved to Wheeling West Virginia at the age of 20. It was there that he became an assistant to The Great Keller, a well-known magician who soon took made Benjamin his apprentice. After apprenticing under Keller as well as a second magician, Prince Herman, Benjamin Rucker soon embarked on his own career as a performer. He and Prince Herman worked together both as stage magicians and in selling patent medicines. When Prince Herman died in 1909, Rucker took on the name "Black Herman" in honour of his friend.
Along with working the theatre circuit with his magic act, Benjamin became extremely popular in African-American communities across the southern states. Not only was he a devoted Christian, but he typically gave much of his income as a magician to local churches which helped save many of them from going under financially. He also became a nationally known star with performances at state fairs, theatres, and music halls. In 1923, he premiered at Liberty Hall in Harlem and all 4,000 seats were filled with enthusiastic fans. In an era of rigid segregation and racial disharmony, "Black Herman" Rucker was a star who appealed to everyone, regardless of skin colour though, due to Jim Crow laws, he was often unable to perform before white audiences in many southern states.
Perhaps his greatest feat was what he called his "Black Herman's Private Graveyard" trick. What this involved was, a few days before his next performance, his assistants would sell tickets allowing people to watch his "lifeless body" being placed in a coffin and buried near the venue of his next scheduled show. To verify that the body was indeed lifeless, ticket holders could even check for a pulse. On the day of the show, tickets were sold so the audience could witness the coffin being dug up. They then watched as Black Herman emerge from the coffin alive and well. He would then lead the crowd to the theater for his performance.
But things weren't always rosy. In 1926, his wife Eva petitioned for divorce (a difficult undertaking in those days) on the grounds of adultery. Not only did she accuse him of cheating with numerous women, but also that he fathered at least three children out of wedlock, all of whom he brought home for Eva to raise. It likely says a lot about his charismatic appeal that he and Eva reconciled and that she continued raising the children as her own.
But Rucker was a businessman as well as an entertainer. He was continually searching for new business ventures including selling herbal concoctions and patent medicines from his own "Herb Garden" as well as starting his own "beneficial society" for customers eager to buy his products. After buying his own printing press, he began publishing a regular magazine, "The Spokesman" in which he provided pronouncements on all matters spiritual and metaphysical. Customers could also buy his other publications, including "Black Herman's Dream Book" and "Black Herman's Secrets of Magic, Mystery, and Legerdemain" by mail order or at his performances. While these various side business made him wealthy, they also provided jobs to dozens of people in New York, Philadelphia, and Wilmington, all of which made him more popular than ever.
But these sidelines also caused major legal headaches as well. The police seemed determined to run him out of business though after years of investigation got them nowhere. Getting any of his customers to testify against him was next to impossible though they finally resorted to a "sting" operation using an undercover policewoman. Not only did the "seer" fail to realize the true identity of the supposedly eager young woman but his usual attempt to hustle her into buying some of his herbal remedies backfired on him. Along with making vague pronouncement about the woman's marital problems (she was actually single), he also tried to sell her some of his remedies for a medical problem which she didn't actually have. All of this was more than enough for the police to charge him with fortune telling and practicing medicine without a license.
Still, a brief stint at Welfare Island Prison wasn't enough to keep "Black Herman" down for long. Though he was a little more careful about who he offered private readings to, he was soon back in the limelight and and doing his regular circuit along with his entourage and fellow performers.
Despite being warned about overwork, Rucker wouldn't, or couldn't. slow down. And s0, after his death in Kentucky, his body was returned home to a public funeral at the Mother African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church in Harlem that brought out hundreds of fans. While Eva and the three small children Rucker left behind received condolences, the people in attendance were still half-expecting the great magician to emerge from the coffin for one final trick. It probably added to the surreal atmosphere that his one-time assistant, Washington Reeves, even charged admission to view the body in the funeral home (some viewers brought pins to stick in the body to verify his death). Given his reputation, it is any wonder that many of these fans followed the funeral procession to Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx, half-expecting him to rise once more?
But the fans were disappointed and Benjamin Rucker remained quite dead. People can still visit his grave at Woodlawn to see for themselves if they're still skeptical. Still, his legacy as one of America's greatest magicians and a legitimate African American superstar (especially in that era) continues to be felt even today. Black Herman was a tough act to follow.
*Though a popular legend stated that Rucker died on stage and that audience members believed it was part of the act, contemporary newspaper accounts reported that his death occurred off-stage. FYI.
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While article is riddled with inaccuracies, the author does travel into areas of recently discovered truths - including his tutelage under the Great Keller. A fact that did not come to light until Harvard's investigative report in 2010. This hidden fact explains Ben Rucker's style and polish: as Prince Herman was never more than a second rate magician. This misdirection at every turn was his style - to keep the audience guessing and wanting more. For those cynics that degenerate his style; his philanthropy aptly overcomes any suggestion that he - a common confidence man. There are things that I would touch upon but will not on this eighty-fifth anniversary of his passing; in deference to Eva, my great aunt, who finally succumbed to old age and passed in 2010 aged 111. What I will conclude with is a strong feeling that Herman has been the template for many of the modern heroes in film and literature. 'Once every seven years shall I rise' he promised. Brace yourselves he's coming again!
Posted by: George Patton | April 15, 2019 at 12:06 AM
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