Christopher Columbus Rogers Marshal of Red Hills

[Shotgun Steve]

Marshal of Red Hills

Christopher Columbus Rogers, Palestine town marshal, tamed this railhead boom town of the 1870s-80s, winning many gun duels before he died with boots on, disarmed pending his second trial on a murder charge, in a barroom brawl with a knife-wielding erstwhile friend. (Photo courtesy of Joe J. Murphy, Jr.)

Marshall Rogers Tamed A
Wild Palestine, Texas


Rogers Brought Town Under Control

Christopher Columbus "sailed the ocean blue in 1492," but modern history has it that Left Ericsson heat him by more than 400 years to the New World.

One immutable historical fact is that Christopher Columbus Rogers tamed Palestine at a time when it was wild and wayward -- a railhead boom town lousy with lawless elements, saloons, bawdy houses and gambling rooms.

Chris, as Rogers was known, during 14 hectic years as town marshal, discovered and polished the shoulder holster quick-draw into a fine art of self-defense against conventional gunslicks.

The son of W. R. (Uncle Billy) Rogers, third sheriff of Anderson County, was born on his father's farm in northern Anderson County. At 15 he joined the Confederate army and guarded prisoners of war at Tyler. After the war, he worked as a printer for his brother-in-law, Col. James W. Ewing, on The Trinity Advocate in Palestine.

Chris had a run-in with Dan Cary, the town marshal during carpetbagger rule, and in a gunfight killed the marshal. To escape martial law execution, Rogers fled to Tyler, where he operated a saloon until he gunned down Mose Remington, a business rival. A Smith County jury acquitted him of that on the grounds of self-defense.

In Palestine, meanwhile, carpetbaggers were chased out in fear of ghostly riders in bedsheets, carrying torches, but the coming of the railroad brought a deluge of violence.

In the spring election of 1873, the job of town marshal found no takers other than "C. C. Rogers," who returned home and was elected. Few could imagine the kid lasting until the proverbial water got hot.

Rogers, however, had discovered a way to master the mob. He was a small, quiet fellow who dressed immaculately but seldom shed the deadly armpit weapon which during that town taming period melted down numerous rowdies and gunmen who came from afar to challenge the marshal.

Night riders had cleared the air of alien rule, but some of them didn't stop there.

On the night of April 23, 1878, a desperate little band tethered horses below a slope near Denson Springs, walked up in front of the home of Dr. R. P. Grayson, and one of them called for the doctor to go treat a sick woman alleged to be in a camp near the site of the old Ioni Indian Village.

Grayson had a good thing going for him. He had come from the North and established himself as a physician in the area. His capable wife, with the help of Negro employees, operated a store, a grist mill and a cotton gin on the small stream near their home.

While his stable boy saddled a horse, Dr. Grayson took his saddlebags and stepped out the front door of his house into a buckshot barrage. More than 50 pellets laid him dying on the step.

The stable hey leaped to the saddle and spurred for Palestine, while the murdering night riders entered the house and killed Mrs. Grayson in her bed. The Grayson baby and small son (who hid under his bed) escaped death.

It was Marshal Rogers the stable boy told of the assassinations. He arrived on the scene at dawn, swore in five deputies on the spot from sturdy farmers who had gathered in horror, and himself took to the trail of one of the killer clan.

Seven men were brought in for the heinous crime. Their brash asserted leader, Roland Rucker, was doomed to die on the gallows.

On the morning of the execution, Rucker cheated the gallows by slashing his wrists in his jail bunk and bleeding to death.

Some of the families represented among the slayers were old and prominent settlers. Hatred for the steely-eyed town marshal spread. It was heightened by subsequent killings. These included the gunning down at separate times of William and James Quisenberry.

No one would dare challenge "C. C. Rogers" when monotonously every two years he came up for re-election.

When the Democrats in 1884 finally won and elected Grover Cleveland president, Palestine's greatest political bonfire was lighted on "Front" Street.

Rogers, who never married, must have come to feel sorry for himself. At occasions he seems to have drowned his sorrow in drink, judging from some of his wild moments.

But it was having to kill a friend that finally unseated the unbeaten elected lawman.

Handsome young Tom O'Donnell, night bartender at the Buckhorn, was going to work at twilight after a run-in with his father-in-law. The old man;s wife demanded Chris arrest Tom. They met on the sidewalk by the opera house, while the old woman, following Chris, kibitzered that Tom had a gun and it was the marshal's duty to disarm him. Chris had started off after ordering Tom to come down to the station and post bail for boating his father-in-law.

Now Rogers turned back and asked O'Donnell for his gun if he was carrying one.

"I give no man my gun," Tom said frowning. He added, in effect, that Chris could come and get the gun if he thought he was man enough.

The marshal undertook to do just that. O'Donneli gave him the gun, in a way. He emptied it at Chris in a moment of senseless passion and fear.

One bullet broke the marshal's right forearm and lodged above the elbow just as the lawman drew his lethal weapon from the armpit holster. His arm went limp; quickly he snatched the gun in his left hand and shot his friend dead.

Witnesses claimed it was cold murder. Rogers was suspended from duty and deprived of the right to bear arms pending trial for murder.

The trial took place at Athens on a change of venue and the jury disagreed, 11 for conviction, one for acquittal.

On Friday afternoon, July 26, 1888, while awaiting a second trial on the O'Donnell murder charge, Chris, without even a penknife for a weapon, entered Robertson's Saloon.

Two barflies were making oblique remarks about Rogers, who sat with a friend, Bill Young, a youthful locomotive engineer, drinking beer.

The two critics drifted out of the saloon, but Young and Rogers got into an argument about the truth of testimony by two witnesses at the Athens murder trial. Chris said they lied; Young yapped that they were his friends and if Chris was going to call them liars, he would call Chris a liar.

They had moved from their table to the bar to get a new round of beers. Chris lost his temper; his broken arm was in a sling. He slapped Young with the broken arm.

They came to grips, fighting. B. A. Durham, who was running the saloon, ran out for help to part them. When he returned, Marshal Chris Rogers lay dying on the floor from numerous knife wounds.

Too late, Christopher Columbus Rogers had made still another discovery: That luck has a way of running out on violence.

[Stillwater]

Another really good, interesting post Steve. Thanks again.

Bill

[kflach]

I love these stories of the people that I hadn't heard of before!

I gotta admit, when I read the phrase "lawless elements" I thought of Washington D.C. and all the politicians there today.