Charles “Black Bart” Boles - June ‘82 American History Feature

During his years of larcenous mischief, Boles garnered–excluding some jewelry and petty cash picked from passengers–a mere $18,000 from Wells Fargo. But in 1883 that was a princely sum that could keep him in the just-short-of-elaborate style he preferred. He posed as Charles Bolton, a successful mining man; lived in comfortable San Francisco hotel suites; traveled frequently to Southern California for pleasure; wore fine clothing; and husbanded a nascent interest in poetry. However, the Southern California forays were often a sham, opportunities for Boles to ply perhaps the only trade he had ever followed with consistency.

Detectives Hume and Morse were not surprised when Boles first denied he had any connection with the stage robberies, declaring defensively, "I am a gentleman." In fact, Morse admitted that Boles "looked anything but a robber." More questioning, however, brought about a confession and Boles’s real background as a Midwesterner, a Civil War veteran, and a man who deserted his wife and children to come west and seek a fortune. But they were taken aback by what he had to say about the buckshot wrapped in the laundry-marked linen. In eight years of outstanding highwaymanship, Black Bart may have never loaded his shotgun.

Though he lived well during his robbery career, Boles had set aside a good deal of his booty and was able to return it to Wells Fargo when he was captured. This, and the fact that he had never harmed anyone in the course of a robbery, brought him the opportunity to plead guilty to one count of armed robbery and take a six-year sentence in the state penitentiary.

In consideration of his age–somewhere around sixty–Boles was released from prison in 1887, before completing his sentence. In the four years and sixty days of his incarceration, his reputation had grown, and he emerged from San Quentin possibly more famous than when he first went in. During his years in jail, he had been described in newspapers and dime novels as being everything from a poor school teacher to a starving poet. On his release, reporters rushed him, eager for the "true story." Soon their questions became routine. When one reporter asked the old bandit if he would continue trying his hand at poetry, Boles replied, "Young man, didn’t you just hear me say I will commit no more crimes?"

Black Bart’s end is more in keeping with the way the romantics of his day would have had it. He disappeared. Although some reported he died in New York City in 1917, others preferred to believe that the poet bandit had gone to the wilds of Montana, or was it Nevada, game for another try at making a fortune.