Jim Cummins, The James Gang's Last Survivor

Much has been written over these many years, actually decades, about the James gang of the old American West. For those out there who have been living in a cave their entire life, or possibly has been raised by a pack of wolves and has not heard of the James gang, they were a pack of outlaws that terrorized the states of Missouri and Minnisota, to name a few, in the 1870s and early 1880s. Jesse and brother Frank James along with others robbed banks, stores, trains and, on accasion, regular people. And more often than not, they killed people.

The Pinkerton National Detective Service tracked them for several years but the Jameses alway's seemed to stay five steps ahead of them. Findly, on April 23, 1882, Bob Ford, along with his brother, Charlie, while staying at the James home in St. Joseph, shot and killed Jesse James for the reward money on his head. Actually, history tells us that Bob Ford only got a small share of the $25,000 that was offered for Jesse. The governor just wanted the James boys ether alive or dead. And Bob Ford sort of fell into his hands and was used as a government assassin. It was just as well, Ford was a coward most of his life and was not the brightest bulb in the box anyway.

Since that day in 1882, when Jesse met his maker, historians have had a field day writing about the gangs "adventures" and many have harolded Jesse as an up-standing young man, more like a Robin Hood figure, who took from the rich and gave to the poor. In reality, there was nothing good or moral about these thugs. Take the murderous criminal gangs of New York, L.A. or any other American city and stick them in the 1880s, and you have the James gang. But over the years, many writers have choosen to write acculades about Jesse, Frank, Clell Miller, Ed Miller, Dick Liddil, Bill Ryan, Charlie Pitts, Bill Chadwell and the rest of the gangs members. Also, for a spell, cousins to the Jameses, Cole Younger and his brothers also rode with the gang and took part in many holdups and several killings.

This blog I have created to bring down some of the myths and glory of these murderers. Please, don't get me wrong, the James gang has always been a fun topic for me as well. I have studied them for the better part of my life. However, I try to set the record straight when I can. It's perfectly alright to study them, and even admire their bravado, but always keep in mind that Jesse and/or Frank would kill you dead for $50...and sometimes even free of charge.

Jim Cummins rode with the James gang for awhile. In the early part of the 20th century, Cummins wrote his thoughts and dealings with Jesse James. Actually, he and Jesse were very good friends. They grew up together. Good friends enough that Cummins knew Jesse and Frank as well as anyone did during their lifetimes. And he knew of their short commings. Jim Cummins wrote an unpublished manuscript about his life with the James boys. We know that at the time of Cummins' death on July 9, 1929 in the Missouri State Confederate Home nears Higginsville, the manuscript was in a bank vault in Kansas City, Missouri. Cummins did write a book that was published in 1903 titled: "Jim Cummins Book, Written by Himself". But the manuscript has, for these many years been lost. It is supposed to reveal many facts about the private James boys and also about many events in their lives.

The following is a short report that Jim Cummins told reporters who visited him at the Confederate Home. He was interviewed there several times before his death. His facts and stories were always the same. He wanted, as he put it, to "tell all". The manuscript was written. Where it is today, if it's anywhere, is a mystery.

This blog was taken from an article that originally appeared in the March, 1980 issue of Western Frontier magazine. It was taken from the reporter's original interviews with Jim Cummins and compiled by Donald H. Hale. The photos here came from that article and were furnished by Hale also.

This is the way Jesse and Frank James really were. They were not heros in any sense of the word. They were not Robin Hoods. What they were were criminals. murderers and theives.

Frank and Jesse James and I were born and raised together in the same neighborhood. I knew their mother --a regular she-devil-- and I have been in their home many a time. We went to the same school, played together, and strange as it may seem, we went to church together to hear the old Baptist preacher.

One evening when I was a boy I was coming home from cutting timble and as I neared the house I heard loud talking and cursing. I peeked around the corner of the house and there were five of Bigelow's men in militia uniform, cursing and abusing my mother because she had nothing left for them to steal, because she had two sons in the Confederate Army, and for being a Rebel herself. One of them, whose name I have never learned, drew back his fist to hit mother, cursing and abusing her all the time.

I think I first began to carry a gun when I was about thirteen years old. Anyway, I carried it for many years. I loved it, practiced with it and was a good shot. After the border troubles started I carried it always with me. I had it with me when I turned the corner that evening, and I am thankful to God that I did have it, because it enabled me to send that fellow who was threatening to strike my mother, to hell in a hurry. That was one of the good acts of my life. When he fell to the ground the others with him reached for their revolvers. I killed three of them altogether, and broke the arm of the fourth. He and the fifth rode away and escaped. I found an order, signed by Bigelow, directing them to go to the home of Samuel R. Cummins (my father) and commandeer livestock and provisions.

Mother urged me to leave at once, as others would come to kill me, so that night I left home, never again to see the old place as it was then. I crossed the Missouri River and served for a while under that prince of gallant soldiers, Joseph O. Shelby, and when I was seventeen years old I was mustered into the regular Confederate service by Colonel Calhoun Thornton at the home of my uncle, Robert Ferril, in Clay County.

This cost the life of my uncle; Bigelow hung him, and to show his contempt of him, would not allow his body to be buried, but left it hanging. Finally our Negroes cut it down and buried it. This is a fair sample of life on the border in those days.

However I had the supreme pleasure of being one of a party that went to the home of Captain Bigelow in 1864, to arrest him and his brother, and as they resisted arrest we killed them both. Shot them, which was a shame, as they should have been hung.

I was in on the raid on Lawrence...Quantrill was a well educated man, of great personality, very handsome, looking more like a minister than an outlaw. This refined man was one of the coolest and most determined men I have ever saw in action. He did not know what fear was and in action he had a heart of stone.

...On this particular day Frank James seemed to have a habit of taking cover at every opportunity. I don't think there was a man in the detachment that could find as many safe places to fire from as could Frank James.

After the war was over I tried to return to my home. I was accused of being an outlaw and I had to hide out. In February, 1866, I received a note from Frank James to meet him in Liberty, Missouri, on the 14th. I was in Jackson County at the time, working on a farm near Lee's Summit. When I got to Liberty I hid around the best I could, waiting for them to show up. I did not know what they wanted.

In a few moments I heard a shot fired and, running out on the street, saw Frank and Jesse coming out of the bank with guns in their hands. Clell Miller had a sack in one hand and a gun in the other. As they ran to their horses a young man named Wymore, about sixteen years of age, on the other side of the street, stopped to see what was going on. Frank James shot and killed the Wymore boy, who was unarmed and a little more than a child.

Frank then saw me standing on the street and called to me, saying, "Come on, Cummins." From that day on I became an outlaw in the minds of many people.

This book of mine is not going to be seen by anyone untill after I am dead, but I am writing it so that the truth about the james gang may be known at last. The truth has never been told. I am going to tell it and tell it all.

I...daren't tell the truth while I'm living. They'd lock me up if I did. Why, I know things that I could get $5,000 today for telling, but it wouldn't be healthy for me if I told. When I'm dead they can't hurt me.

Another reason why I want to write the book--I want to tear the mask off of Frank and Jesse James posing as heroes. Bah! They were just common ordinary robbers, traitors and double crossers. Heroes? Not on your life! I know--I rode with them, camped with them, slept with them, went into the jaws of death and fumes of hell with them. I knew Frank and Jesse James better than any man who ever lived, and I tell you they were just plain robbing crooks, without honor.

I remember one time, after the Glendale train robbery near Kansas City in 1879. Jesse James, Dick Liddil, Bill Ryan and myself crossed the river at Leavenworth and rode down to Nashville, and I went out to see Frank James who lived near there.

Frank kicked because Jesse had brought Bill Ryan with him, and Frank said to me, "Jim, you are welcome at my house at any time but you go over to Nashville and tell Dingus not to bring that damned Irishman here."

Frank always called Jesse 'Dingus'. When I told this to Jesse he became all riled up and he threatened to kill Frank. The next day Jesse hired a buggy, and he and his wife and Bill Ryan drove out to Frank's house and spent the day there. Jesse tried every way that day to pick a quarrel with his brother, Frank, so he could kill him, but Frank knew what he was after and managed to keep the peace.

Jesse had murder in his heart that day and when he saw that he couldn't pick a row with Frank he quarreled with Dick Liddil, and drew his revolver. He would have killed Dick, but I stepped in between them and prevented it. Jesse told me that day he believed his brother, Frank wanted him to be killed.

Jesse said that if he was dead and out of the way Frank would then surrender and ask a pardon on the plea that Jesse was the real bad man of the two and did most of the robbing and killing. And sure enough, not long after Jesse was killed, Frank did surrender and did contend that Jesse and I were responsible for most of the robberies.

Talk about Frank James being a hero. If Frank had been the right kind of a man he would have avenged the death of his brother, Jesse. He would never have rested untill he had killed Bob and Charlie Ford. If they had killed Frank, you bet your life Jesse would have killed them both. But Frank was intent only on saving his own bacon.

Now, I'm going to tell the inside facts in my book. I am going to tell the truth about the part Jesse and Frank James took in the Northfield bank robbery.
The men in that robbery were Frank and Jesse James, Cole, Jim and Bob Younger, Clell Miller, Charlie Pitts and Bill Chadwell. Frank James always denied that he was in that raid and insinuated that I was in it. But I know who was there. They all met in Kansas City and planned the raid. Then they went over to the home of Mrs. Samuels, mother of the James boys, in Clay County. From there they rode to Northfield.
Miller, Pitts and Chadwell were killed outright in the street fight in front of the bank. The others got away and hid in the timber in a creek bottom. They pretended to be fishermen. Cole Younger foraged out and got a couple of horses, but his brother, Bob, was wounded and couldn't ride and Cole wouldn't leave him. Jesse wanted to kill Bob and leave him, as he would hinder their escape. Jesse and Cole quarreled and Jesse and Frank took the two horses and rode off.
They barely got away across a bridge as the posse came up which captured the Youngers. Jesse and Frank had a hard time getting away. Once they rode for miles in the covered wagon of a sewing machine man. They returned home by a roundabout way that took them out through Arizona and New Mexico. They nearly starved; they ate raw rabbits and roots. They findly got back to Clay County and they got away to Kentucky.

Tyler Burns drove Frank James' wife in a covered wagon and Frank rode on horseback. When they came to a town, Burns would drive through and Frank would ride around the town and join them beyond it. Jesse James and his wife went in the same way, the wagon being driven by Johnnie Samuels.
After they got down in Southern Missouri the two parties joined company, but Frank and Jesse had a violent quarrel and separated.

After Jesse James and I had been together for years, facing death together, we fell out, and I tried to kill him and he tried to kill me. Our quarrel was over the murder of my friend, Ed Miller.

Miller was with Jesse James in the Glendale train robbery in Jackson County in 1879. At that time Frank James was living under the name of Ben Woodson on the Pike Road, three miles from Nashville, Tennessee. Jesse James' wife was boarding in Nashville.

Jesse got a lot of money in the Glendale robbery and Jesse and Ed Miller bought a race horse, Jim Malone, and took him around to differant race meets, but went broke on him.

Meantime, Tucker Basham had been arrested for the Glendale robbery and turned state's evidence and told that I and Jesse, Ed Miller, Bill Ryan and Dick Liddil were in the robbery.

Of course, he lied about me. I was not in it. Neither was Frank James.

After Jesse and Ed Miller went broke on their race horse they started back for Missouri on horseback. Near Norborne, Missouri, Jesse James killed Ed Miller and took his watch and horse and rode on to Charley Ford's in Ray County, and then on to the home of Mose Miller, Ed's brother, and told him Ed was sick and likely to die and Jesse presented to Mose Miller a forged order for $375 signed by Ed Miller, and Mose paid Jesse the money. Jesse disposed of the watch. The body of Ed Miller was buried by Sam Burton, who found it badly decomposed.

That's the kind of hero Jesse James was, murdering his comrade and robbing his body. And for what?
I learned finally that Jesse had killed Ed Miller, and I decided to kill Jesse. I went to a house where he was stopping in Edsville, Kentucky, and asked Jesse to come out and look at a horse. I intended to kill him as he came out the door, but he smelled a rat and wouldn't come. He said he would see the horse in the morning.

I told him he had killed Ed Miller and I intended to let Miller's friends in Missouri know all about it. I did that and Jesse James did not live long afterward. I never spoke to Jesse James after that night. I was his enemy and he was mine. He tried to get me killed and came to the home of William Ford, my brother-in-law, to kill me himself.

I was offered $5,000 in cash by the authorities if I would give information that would lead to the capture of Jesse James, and I could have got the money easily. But no one can put the brand of traitor on me. I wouldn't have surrendered him for a million dollars. I despise and hate the way he was killed, but still it was a traitor against a traitor. Jesse James was as much a traitor as Bob Ford, and he got what he deserved for killing Ed Miller. But still, I think that Jesse was more honorable than Frank, at that.
After Jesse's death all the robberies and killings were laid at his door by Frank James and his friends.

In my book I'll who killed Whicher, the Pinkerton detective, and who murdered Westfall, the Rock Island conductor, and McMillan, the old man in the train robbery at Winston, Missouri in 1881.

Frank James was tried for the murder and acquitted. He said I was the man in that robbery who resembled him. I deny it. I say Frank James was in that robbery. It was done by Frank and Jesse James, Wood and Clarence Hite and Dick Liddil. I was working at that time in the harvest field at Gorham, Russell County, Kansas for $1.50 a day. I was there when Jesse James was killed and from there I went to Buffalo, Wyoming and opened a shoe store and stayed there untill I came back to Missouri and surrendered.

So, there you have it! This was the legend of Jesse and Frank James as told by Jesse's good friend, Jim Cummins, in his own words, during the 1920s. Many folks through the years, in their own minds have this vision of Jesse James as a bigger than life hero who helped the poor and lower class. This is not the facts. How much of this story is true, I don't know. I do know that I have studied Jesse James and the James gang for most of my life and the events, dates and timelines that Mr. Commins details here are mostly accurate. We do know that Jim Cummins did know Jesse James and that he rode with the James gang in, at least, a few raids. I did notice that Commins shyed away from exposing himself to any wrong-doing. But you have to keep in mind that, at the time of these interviews, he was still alive and could have still been charged with any crimes that he may have admitted to.
The book that Mr. Cummins was supposed to have written was to be a tell-all. It was to be released after his death so that he could not be arrested and charged with any crimes. But, of course, the book has never been found. Odds are, it never will be. That's too bad because it would have shed a light on many events that happened and would have been another great tool in the search for the real Jesse and Frank James.

Feb. 9, 1957: Television’s Wyatt Earp, actor Hugh O’Brian, on left, and Al Jennings, onetime western bad man, draw guns for Los Angeles Times staff photographer Al Markado. O’Brian won, but Jennings, at 93, had the experience to make the shot count – if he needed too.

Times staff writer Norman Dash reported:

TARZANA–A 93-year-old “bad man.” who was once allegedly the fastest man with a gun in the West, met up with television’s Wyatt Earp and immediately went for his clippings, memories and tales of the Old West at his modern-day hide-out in Tarzana.

Al Jennings, last of the real shoot-‘em-up gun slingers, can talk for hours about such men as the original Wyatt Earp, the Daltons, Jesse James, Doc Holiday and Bat Masterson–all men he has known.

“I won’t give ya a plugged nickel for today’s crop of television’s western heroes,” Jennings told Hugh O’Brian, who plays Earp. He reached for a gun that O’Brian gave him to look at.

The small, wiry, white haired former desperado, not much taller than 5 feet, tried twirling Earp’s gun and finally gave it up because his once nimble fingers weren’t what they used to be.

Finally he snorted, looked at the blank TV screen and confided to O’Brian: “These television heroes are no good at all!. They’re certainly not as good with a gun as the men in my day. It’s a joke!”

Jennings should know what he’s talking about. His trail leads back to train and bank robbing feats, five years in the penitentiary at Columbus, OH., a parole by President McKinley and a pardon from President Theodore Roosevelt in 1907.

“Now let me tell ya,” he continued, “On television they’re always hitting the cap of the gun and fanning it real fast so it looks good.”

“I always aim before I shoot,” OBrian answered.

“Why, that’s right!” Jennings said. “A man couldn’t hit a flock of barns shooting the way most of them movie gunmen do. He’d be jerking the gun so much that he wouldn’t be able to aim at anything.”

Jennings passed away in 1961. His Times obituary published on Dec. 27, 1961 reported:

Al Jennings, said to have been one of the most feared of the bad men in the blazing youth of the Southwest, died at 97 Tuesday with his boots off….

Jennings was an admitted bank robber, train robber and cattle thief of the 1880s, and was said to have been acquainted with some of the marshals and badmen whose names still live in western legend.

“Some of the finest men I ever knew were horse thieves,” Jennings once said.

During the O’Brian – Jennings shootout, neighbors called the police. This photo, bottom, showed up in the Times library.

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