The Good Old Days
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Truckee Rowdy
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As was later reported, “Hardly a month passes that he has not had some quarrel and has drawn his revolver on several occasions. He is a consort of rounders and fancies women, and a bad and disagreeable person for the community.”
It was noted that Ingersoll had made himself “too popular” with the wife of a man named Page. News traveled fast in those days, and it wasn’t long before Shannon, a close friend of Page, exchanged words as they passed by each other near the Capitol Building, setting the stage for the inevitable showdown that followed.
On the following evening at about 5pm, Shannon was seated at a poker table in Lenahan’s & Dixon’s Saloon, bragging loudly to some friends about his earlier encounter while sipping his fifth straight shot of whisky, when who should appear at the door but Ingersoll himself.
As Ingersoll approached the table, the melodic tune of the piano suddenly stopped, and the smelly saloon instantly became as quiet as a church at midnight. Shannon’s red hair seemed to stand on end as two men exchanged deadly glances.
Unbeknownst to Shannon, Ingersoll was “heeled” with his Navy Colt revolver and must have felt quite confident as he grabbed the enraged Irishman by the shoulder before he could rise from his chair.
“I’d like you to repeat to what you said yesterday,” shouted Ingersoll, while at the same time giving Shannon a shove, causing him to tumble from his chair and land in an embarrassing position against the upright piano; knocking over a repulsively full spittoon.
In an instant, Shannon jumped to his feet, picked up the overturned chair and threw it at Ingersoll. The chair missed its target, but managed to shatter the handsomely lettered window, which Mr. Dixon had installed only a few days earlier.
The two men grappled with each other, eventually landing against the bar breaking glasses and several expensive bottles of whiskey before finally being pulled apart by a very angry Mr. Dixon.
“Take yer danged fight outside!” barked Dixon, whose face had turned redder than the feathers which partially covered the breasts of a lovely woman portrayed in the huge oil painting which hung above the bar. “Who’s gonna pay fer all this damage?” he added.
Before anyone could answer, the enraged Ingersoll reached under his frock and pulled his revolver, leveling it at Shannon, and ordered him at once to leave the building.
Believing the fight was over, Shannon rushed out the door and headed down the boardwalk toward Hurd’s saloon, where he stopped to talk to a friend. As he glanced behind him he suddenly realized that Ingersoll had followed him and was approaching rapidly.
Drawing his revolver, Ingersoll began shouting, “We're going to settle this here and now! while loudly applying various “vile epithets” to his opponent. He then charged forward toward the two surprised men.
In fear of his life, Shannon grabbed for the gun and wrestled Ingersoll to the ground, where they rolled, kicked, bit and clawed at each other, oblivious to the mud and large piles of horse manure. By now a large crowd of men had stumbled out of the bars and began to shout and cheer as they eagerly watched the event.
During the melee, the pistol went off and the bullet ricocheted off the bricks of Hurd’s Saloon, barely missing the town undertaker who had a remarkable knack for being nearby whenever shooting started.
Ingersoll managed to free his gun and slammed the barrel on the top of Shannon’s head, dealing a large gash from which blood flowed freely, but that only served to make the Irishman even angrier.
By now, the saloons along Front Street had emptied and the crowd applauded Shannon as he bravely planted his muddy fist on Ingersoll’s jaw, sending him into the back of a horse which began to whinny and kick wildly. In the confusion, Ingersoll lost his pistol as well as his courage and, “like the errant coward that he was," began yelling for help.
The men finally separated, much to the disgust of the crowd, which favored Shannon and recognized that he had gained the upper hand. Infuriated, Ingersoll grabbed a shotgun out of the hands of Dixon who had appeared, hoping to enforce some restitution for the damages to his saloon. Ingersoll cocked the shotgun and began making threats toward the angry crowd, which had begun to close in on him.
Without warning, Ingersoll was grabbed from behind by Constable James Reed and his deputies who arrived just in time to prevent a volley of buckshot from being discharged into the crowd.
Ingersoll was promptly arrested for assault with a deadly weapon and locked up in Truckee’s stone jailhouse. He was later brought before Justice Dunster who fixed bail at $2,000, which the defendant was unable to raise, and ordered to be “taken below” to the county prison in Nevada City. Ingersoll was never again seen in Truckee.
In closing, the Truckee Republican commented that Ingersoll “had no sympathizers even among his own class. Everyone in town is glad to be rid of him.”
Justice in Truckee, although sometimes unorthodox, was usually swift and, in the case of Jim Ingersoll, certainly just.
It was noted that Ingersoll had made himself “too popular” with the wife of a man named Page. News traveled fast in those days, and it wasn’t long before Shannon, a close friend of Page, exchanged words as they passed by each other near the Capitol Building, setting the stage for the inevitable showdown that followed.
On the following evening at about 5pm, Shannon was seated at a poker table in Lenahan’s & Dixon’s Saloon, bragging loudly to some friends about his earlier encounter while sipping his fifth straight shot of whisky, when who should appear at the door but Ingersoll himself.
As Ingersoll approached the table, the melodic tune of the piano suddenly stopped, and the smelly saloon instantly became as quiet as a church at midnight. Shannon’s red hair seemed to stand on end as two men exchanged deadly glances.
Unbeknownst to Shannon, Ingersoll was “heeled” with his Navy Colt revolver and must have felt quite confident as he grabbed the enraged Irishman by the shoulder before he could rise from his chair.
“I’d like you to repeat to what you said yesterday,” shouted Ingersoll, while at the same time giving Shannon a shove, causing him to tumble from his chair and land in an embarrassing position against the upright piano; knocking over a repulsively full spittoon.
In an instant, Shannon jumped to his feet, picked up the overturned chair and threw it at Ingersoll. The chair missed its target, but managed to shatter the handsomely lettered window, which Mr. Dixon had installed only a few days earlier.
The two men grappled with each other, eventually landing against the bar breaking glasses and several expensive bottles of whiskey before finally being pulled apart by a very angry Mr. Dixon.
“Take yer danged fight outside!” barked Dixon, whose face had turned redder than the feathers which partially covered the breasts of a lovely woman portrayed in the huge oil painting which hung above the bar. “Who’s gonna pay fer all this damage?” he added.
Before anyone could answer, the enraged Ingersoll reached under his frock and pulled his revolver, leveling it at Shannon, and ordered him at once to leave the building.
Believing the fight was over, Shannon rushed out the door and headed down the boardwalk toward Hurd’s saloon, where he stopped to talk to a friend. As he glanced behind him he suddenly realized that Ingersoll had followed him and was approaching rapidly.
Drawing his revolver, Ingersoll began shouting, “We're going to settle this here and now! while loudly applying various “vile epithets” to his opponent. He then charged forward toward the two surprised men.
In fear of his life, Shannon grabbed for the gun and wrestled Ingersoll to the ground, where they rolled, kicked, bit and clawed at each other, oblivious to the mud and large piles of horse manure. By now a large crowd of men had stumbled out of the bars and began to shout and cheer as they eagerly watched the event.
During the melee, the pistol went off and the bullet ricocheted off the bricks of Hurd’s Saloon, barely missing the town undertaker who had a remarkable knack for being nearby whenever shooting started.
Ingersoll managed to free his gun and slammed the barrel on the top of Shannon’s head, dealing a large gash from which blood flowed freely, but that only served to make the Irishman even angrier.
By now, the saloons along Front Street had emptied and the crowd applauded Shannon as he bravely planted his muddy fist on Ingersoll’s jaw, sending him into the back of a horse which began to whinny and kick wildly. In the confusion, Ingersoll lost his pistol as well as his courage and, “like the errant coward that he was," began yelling for help.
The men finally separated, much to the disgust of the crowd, which favored Shannon and recognized that he had gained the upper hand. Infuriated, Ingersoll grabbed a shotgun out of the hands of Dixon who had appeared, hoping to enforce some restitution for the damages to his saloon. Ingersoll cocked the shotgun and began making threats toward the angry crowd, which had begun to close in on him.
Without warning, Ingersoll was grabbed from behind by Constable James Reed and his deputies who arrived just in time to prevent a volley of buckshot from being discharged into the crowd.
Ingersoll was promptly arrested for assault with a deadly weapon and locked up in Truckee’s stone jailhouse. He was later brought before Justice Dunster who fixed bail at $2,000, which the defendant was unable to raise, and ordered to be “taken below” to the county prison in Nevada City. Ingersoll was never again seen in Truckee.
In closing, the Truckee Republican commented that Ingersoll “had no sympathizers even among his own class. Everyone in town is glad to be rid of him.”
Justice in Truckee, although sometimes unorthodox, was usually swift and, in the case of Jim Ingersoll, certainly just.
