Forty Years at El Paso, 1858-1898

by W. W. Mills

THE BLOODY REIGN OF MARSHAL STUDEMEIER.

Twenty years ago, with the coming of the first railroads to El Paso, there came also many bad men, and our mayor and city fathers concluded in their wisdom that they must have a city marshal who would be “bader en anybody,” and they succeeded beyond their most sanguine expectations. They imported one Dallas Studemeier, and installed him in that office.

His coming, if we can trace human events back to their causes, cost the lives of half a dozen men, his own included. The supplanted marshal, a Mr. Johnson, was the first victim. He was killed one night on San Antonio street, near its junction with El Paso, “by parties unknown,” as was said at the time. No one dared ask why or by whom he was killed.

Studemeier brought with him a brother-in-law, one “Doc” Cummings, a man of his own ilk. Soon the Studemeier-Cummings party became involved in a quarrel with the four Manning brothers, who resided here at the time, and Cummings was killed by Jim Manning in a fight.

It is enough to say that Manning was fairly tried and acquitted on a plea of self-defense.

In the Bosques above El Paso there were several parties of cowboys, both American and Mexican, some of whom were, no doubt, looking after their own cattle, while others were certainly looking after other people’s cattle. One morning the bodies of two young Mexicans from Juarez were found dead at their camp near Canutilla, sixteen miles above El Paso. They had been recently shot. The Mexicans of Juarez asked permission to send an armed party to take home the bodies, and they passed through El Paso. With them went a young German named Kramkauer, a stranger in El Paso, but who we afterward learned was a good man, and he certainly was a brave man.

On their return, this party of about thirty armed men halted on El Paso street, appearing angry but making no threats or hostile demonstrations, but Kramkauer did not hesitate when questioned to say that the signs at the Mexicans’ camp clearly showed that the two young Mexicans had been surprised while preparing their breakfast and assassinated. This was too much for the American cowboys and their friends who had collected on the street, and for a time I feared a conflict between them and the thirty armed Mexicans, which I knew would be a bloody affair, and therefore interceded to prevent it. But the Mexican party sullenly moved south on El Paso street, and halted when about half way to the river. Now the wrath of the American party was turned toward Kramkauer, who remained on El Paso street, near the head of San Antonio, and one Campbell, of whose history or character I know but little, but who appeared to be the spokesman of the party, called on Kramkauer to retract what he had said. Kramkauer quietly but firmly refused, saying that he had stated only the truth. I was standing near these two men, and was surprised at the low, protesting, almost pleading tone of voice in which they spoke to each other. Both were sober, both were brave. The marshal, Studemeier, was standing near me and them, but spoke no word. Others soon gathered about us, but the young German was without friends. I believe these two men might not have fought, but Johnnie Hale, who was intoxicated, called out: “Turn her loose, Campbell; damn ’em, turn her loose,” and drew his pistol. Studemeier, who stood within four feet of Hale, shot him in the back of the head, and Hale fell and died in a few moments. Campbell and Kramkauer fired simultaneously at each other, both shots taking effect. Each fired several times. Campbell fell, and the German staggered to the wall, and, leaning against it with his smoking pistol still in his hand, said, “I will fight till I die,” and he died soon. Campbell lingered till the next morning, and died.

A second shot fired by Studemeier accidentally killed a Mexican who happened to be passing down the street. I do not know who Studemeier was shooting at then, and I don’t believe he knew himself. Less than ten seconds time passed between the first shot and the last one, but four men were killed! Two of the three participants in the above affray having killed each other, and Studemeier having killed two men “on the side,” as it were, he became a hero with the rabble and a terror to the more thoughtful of the city officials, who sought to get rid of him. But it is sometimes easier to catch such a man than it is to let him go. I found a way.

I was deputy United States marshal at the time, and at the next meeting of the council I presented a telegram from the United States marshal of New Mexico, stating that Studemeier had accepted an appointment as his deputy, thereby vacating the office of city marshal, and the city council declared it vacant. An alderman immediately nominated Studemeier to succeed himself, and Alderman Hague nominated the writer of these pages. The vote stood four and four, and then the mayor, to the surprise of many, gave the casting vote to Studemeier! One night, soon after the above occurrences, I went to a public meeting at the old Central hotel, and in the hall, in the presence of many people, Studemeier accosted and cursed and threatened to kill me, and called on me to defend myself. I was unarmed, and so informed him. He then produced two pistols, and generously offered to loan me one, but I had seen that trick played before, and I told him that as he and I were not good friends I did not feel like accepting a favor from him, and he went away. I went home and armed myself and returned to the meeting and met Studemeier, but nothing more was said or done. This was the last time, so far as I know, when I have been in any great peril from my fellow men—unless from their tongues.

There are probably as many Davids as Goliaths, and this desperado was about to meet his David—and his death. Dr. Manning was small of stature, modest in deportment, devoted to his family and his profession, and as to fighting, his disposition is well described in the words of the old negro, “Mammy,” in speaking of her old master. She said, “Colonel Purdue want no man to go about hunting for no fuss, but if anybody brought a fuss to him and laid it in his lap, he would nuss it and coddle it and try to keep it from ketchen cold.”