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| Saint Sebastian River Bridge [Click image to call up all published instalments] |
June 1922, continued
“Please, call me Red.”
The lawyer nodded, “All right, Red it is, young sir. You can call me Grey, as a matter of fact.”
Red thanked him for his kindness and proceeded. “Well sir,” and the Judge shook his head.
“Grey, please.”
Red started over, although it felt awkward calling a distinguished gentleman three times his age by a nickname; he hadn’t been raised that way. “Well, ah, Grey, I know pretty much that they’re bootleggers, rum-runners, hijackers, bank robbers and murderers, but I don’t know much of the details. It occurs to me that, due to some unwise actions on the part of my brother Guy, we might wind up on their list of folks they feel have infringed on what they consider their territory. And it further occurs to me, if that’s the case, it might be a smart move on my part to learn as much of those details as I can.”
Like most country folk, Red could speak as civilized as the next fella when he took a mind to, and this seemed like a time to take such a mind.
Stikelether nodded sagely.
“I couldn’t agree more, Red, couldn’t agree more. All right then, I’ll start at the beginning.”
Stikelether shoveled some more catfish into his gullet, dropped the bones and slurped up some tea. He needed that napkin all right, the man ate like a starving glutton.
“Claimed the Indian had tried to cheat him” |
“Trouble was a couple Dutch trapper boys name of Girtman said Ashley had sold them the hides for $1200 and had a bill of sale signed by Ashley to prove it. They also said Desoto was nowhere in sight.
“Jimmie Gopher, an old Cow Creek Seminole trapper, told the sheriff’s deputies he’d seen John with Tiger and a skiff full of the hides the day before that sale. I presided over several cases against Jimmie; he was a terrible thief. By that not only do I mean he did it regular, I also mean he was no good at it. Always gettin’ caught.
“But when you had him dead to rights, he would never lie about it, nor about anything else. Jimmie Gopher claimed stealing was an Indian tradition as old as the world, ordained by the Great Spirit; that if a man didn’t see to it his goods couldn’t be stolen, then it was nobody’s fault but his own if they were. He maintained that it was perfectly moral for a man to steal but it diminished a man to lie, and there wasn’t a human being on Earth, not even President Woodrow Wilson, for whom he would stoop so far as to do so.
“He always jokingly called the President the ‘Great White Father,’ but then he always was a sarcastic old shit too. And I swear to you, son, every Indian in that courtroom agreed with him. When he told me that I sentenced him to ten days in jail for stealing a set of otter traps and a rifle, but immediately suspended it on account of his honesty. The goods had been retrieved, and none the worse for wear, after all. I did make him serve the night for showing up in my courtroom drunker than Cooter Brown, though. I truly respected that old rascal, and I think he respected me too.”
The old man’s eyes saw into an earlier time, and his hands were folded, almost as if in prayer. “Anyway, he wouldn’t have lied.”
Just then Lilly brought Red’s own plate of catfish, piled high and sizzlin’ right from the fryer.
“A dragline crew found young Desoto’s body” |
“Yes sir, Mr. Amion William Dedge, Tommy Tiger is the most sober Indian I ever met, and they aren’t known for teetotalers, I can tell you that too.”
He waved at Lilly, who slowly swayed over with a pitcher and refilled their iced tea glasses. Since the trains had begun running regular, the luxury of ice in Florida had become a bit more common. Even the poorest folks could have a cold drink now and then.
[image: Turn Back the Universe]Harry MacDonough and the Orpheus Quartet played “Turn Back the Universe and Give Me Yesterday” on the radio. Grey took up his tale again.
“By then John and Bob Ashley had gone back to Palm Beach, which folks called ‘Lake Worth Country’ then, and some still do. When Sheriff George Baker sent men to arrest John, they found him at a chickee hut near Hobe Sound, but Bob got the drop on them. They took the deputies’ rifles, taunting them and the sheriff of Palm Beach County with a threat to kill any other men who came after them.
“They hid out in the Everglades for a while, some say he even left the state. Oh, the stories proliferated: he was a high-rolling gambler in New Orleans. He did some logging in Seattle, panned for gold in California. Some even said he’d robbed a bank in Canada.
“From what I know of the Ashleys, my guess is he never left at all. Their father, Joe, has taught them boys all there is to know about the Everglades, trapping otters, hunting alligators, and living off the land. He’s a damned fine moonshiner too, and passed that knowledge along to his sons as well. Not even the Seminoles know the place any better.
“He was lovesick for that swamp wildcat Laura Upthegrove” |
“She hadn’t taken up with him full-time back then like she has now. I reckon she’s what you’d call his common-law wife. Can you imagine? They call her ‘Queen of the Everglades’ these days! Make out like she’s some kind of great beauty, a heartbreaker with a pistol strapped on her hip. She’s got the pistol all right, but fact is, she’s rather plain and dumpy if you ask me. But, to each his own they say, and it’s no doubt John’s taken a real shine to her, regardless.
“A trial date was set in Palm Beach County, even though the murder had taken place in Dade. Sheriff Baker never was one to miss a chance to get his picture in the papers with a high-profile case like that, and minor details about jurisdiction be damned.
“But by then John was somewhat of a local hero. Folks in Palm Beach who didn’t love John were afraid of him. The Palm Beach prosecutor knew a conviction was unlikely. Besides, by then the entire Seminole Nation was in an uproar over Desoto Tiger’s murder, which was a Dade County case. Hell’s bells, even the Federal Government was getting involved. Why, no less a personage than Secretary of State William Jennings Bryan was pressuring Governor Trammell to do something to satisfy the Seminoles’ wrath. So, the order to extradite John to Miami instead came down from my very own gavel. The Ashleys knew that would be bad news for John because he was nowhere near as popular, nor as feared, in Dade County as he was in Palm Beach, and I knew it too. I’d hoped to put an end to John’s running from his sins, but it didn’t work out like that.
“Seems the prospect of hanging for the murder of Desoto Tiger clearly didn’t set well with John Ashley, so as Sheriff Baker’s son Bobby escorted him back to the Palm Beach County jailhouse, Joe showed up with a plate of food for his son. He handed it to Bobby, and the second Bobby took the plate, John bolted, climbed a ten-foot chicken-wire fence and made off into the Everglades again.
“It was a great embarrassment to Bobby, who was a deputy for his daddy George. I think Bobby took it to heart, as he became one hell of a lawman himself, and took over for George when the Sheriff passed away, two years gone. Got his foot shot off at one point, and lost part of his leg, but that didn’t slow him down none; he’s still chasing down miscreants and ne’er-do-wells down in Palm Beach to this day.
“John gathered his family and some others, one of the Middleton boys from over Blue Cypress way, and Young Matthews, kin to the Storeys in Fort Pierce. The Storeys jazz up fast cars for the bootleggers like the Ashleys so they can outrun the Revenue agents.
“John Ashley went into the robbery business full time” |
“Meanwhile, Lowe was terrorizing the passengers for money and a woman’s frightened screams brought John at a run. He said only a coward would rob a woman, and made Lowe apologize to the terrified lady. Then they jumped off the train and hightailed it somewhere south of Stuart. That incident started the legend of John’s good manners. He was said to give food and money to widows and orphans, like some kind of backwoods Robin Hood or some shit.”
It surely sounded like shit to Red Dedge.
“Not long after that, John, Bob and the Chicago mobster boys, Lowe and Lynn, robbed the First Bank of Stuart, netting some forty-five thousand in cash and silver. The papers originally reported only about forty-three hundred was missing, but it turned out the bank manager had been waiting for just such an opportunity. He stole another fifty thousand from a hidden cash box and headed for the hills. The real loss was almost one hundred thousand dollars, but banks don’t like that kind of story going about, so they let the much lower claim stand.
“Word was John’s daddy Joe and some of the other boys were in on the job too. As they escaped, Lowe fired his pistol at their pursuers, but it ricocheted off the window frame of the getaway car, smashing into John’s jaw and destroying his right eye. Sheriff George Baker’s men captured John when he tried to get medical help from a local doctor, while Bob, Lynn and Kid Lowe made off with the loot. Due to the continued agitations of the Cow Creek Seminoles and their chief Tommy Tiger, John was extradited to Miami, to face another trial for the murder of the chief’s son Desoto.
“For some reason, most likely that a white jury was unlikely to convict a white man, even a snake like John Ashley, for the murder of an Indian, the District Attorney there decided to try to send him back to Palm Beach County to stand trial for the robberies the gang had committed there.
“The First Bank of Stuart wasn’t the only one either; those boys were right busy robbing banks, payroll trains and whatnot in those years. If I had been the presiding judge, God damn if I would have let John go back where I knew he’d likely either get off scot-free or just escape again, but I wasn’t. John was represented by Alto Adams, and he convinced the judge to send John back for trial in Palm Beach for the robberies.
“Always thought I’d like to meet that woman” |
The judge went back at his dwindling plate of catfish and they both ate silently for a few minutes. Stikelether finally finished his fish, swabbed the grease from the plate with the last of his hushpuppies, and wiped his face and hands with the napkin.
“The widow apparently had more sand than skill with a pistol, so Bob was unharmed, and hijacked a passing truck. But after a few blocks a Dade County deputy, J.R. Riblet, caught up with him, and in the ensuing shootout both Bob Ashley and Riblet were killed. The driver of the truck was injured, one T.H. Duckett, and his sixteen-year-old niece Annalee Brickell was killed. The good folks of Miami, never having been under the spell of the Ashley legend, were ready to lynch John, especially over the poor child, Annalee; the Brickells have been in Miami since Methuselah wore short pants. You couldn’t swing a dead cat in Miami in those days without smacking someone named Brickell, or a close relative.
“Story went, there was more than a thousand people at the jail demanding John’s neck. The fact that it had to have been Riblet’s gun that had killed Duckett’s niece didn’t seem to matter. Worse, Riblet was the first Dade County officer ever killed in the line of duty, so the deputies had blood in their eyes too, and were inclined to give John up. Finally, Dade County Sheriff Dan Hardie had the body of Bob Ashley paraded through the crowd, and they dispersed, apparently satisfied justice was being done.”
| Copyright © 2022 by Roger Owens |
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