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The Reverend Malachi Gosse

How far do YOU go? Alias and Story

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I go by Doc Ward because I was a medic in a combat arms unit in the Army, and they tend to call their medics, or the ones they like, "Doc." It is a nickname I'm proud to have earned. I sort of toyed with the idea of a "backstory" for a long time. Basically, I tried to picture what if I had been born way back when. I sat down and fleshed it out for the story Return to Toostone here recently. The ancestry is true to my best knowledge based upon a couple of genealogies, including an ancestor who was a circuit rider. The reason I went with the military unit I did is because the unit I spent most of my career in, the 1/134 Field Artillery, carries that lineage. A Hospital Steward was about the closest I could think of to a medic. At any rate, here it is:

 

Glancing at the sign in the window that pronounced to the world “Attorney and Counselor at Law,” he slowly shook his head, thinking how he had come this far. He got the nickname “Doc” because he had deftly patched up a few fellow travelers  after an incident with raiders on the trip west, and they assumed from his skill he was a doctor. Despite his assertions to the contrary, the name stuck.
 
Doc Ward had, in fact, started out this life on a small bit of property with some good bottom land in a hollow in Southeastern Kentucky. His father, a demanding yet distant man, was a Methodist circuit rider, and had arranged for him to travel to a small Methodist college in Ohio for his education. “Boy, it’s against my better judgment, but I can tell you have an itch to always be learning things, so I made it happen. You just do well and when you come back, maybe you’ll be ready to help out around the place.”

When war broke out, he was just finishing his time in school, where he had also been reading law with a local attorney in anticipation of going into practice. He had never thought of fighting, particularly against his fellow Americans. Then again, it wasn’t in him not to fight, either. Which side to fight on was never in doubt. His grandfather had fought in the War of 1812, and his great-grandfather had been one of the men who made sure Major Ferguson kept his oath to never leave King’s Mountain. Before that, there were Wards fighting against the French and Indians. A lot of Ward blood and sweat had been shed to build the country. He didn’t think he could look his ancestors in the eye when his time came if he didn’t fight to keep it built. He knew he had friends and family who thought otherwise, but once he did some soul searching, he knew what choice would be his. After commencement, he went to see President Merrick in his office at school and told him his decision. The President nodded, and assured him he would keep him in his prayers.

It seemed like just yesterday that he was taking the road south to Camp Chase, where he mustered into the First Ohio Light Artillery as a private in Battery A. From there they headed south, seeing action at Shiloh, Chicamauga, Kennesaw Mountain and other places. Initially on a gun, Doc had driven an ambulance back to the Regimental Surgeon, and upon talking with him, his education caused the surgeon to arrange for him to be made Hospital Steward and promoted. There he spent the majority of the war, moving with the regiment as ordered, compounding prescriptions, doing administrative work and assisting the surgeons became routine for him. It was at this time he learned the skills that led to his nickname.

Once the war ended, he headed back home only briefly. He found his ailing father, whose health had deteriorated greatly from worry. His mother had died without him knowing about it, and he sadly walked up the hill to place flowers on her grave. His father passed days after his arrival home, almost as if he waited for his time until he knew his son was safe. After saying words over his grave, he went into the log house to sort through his father's things. Picking up his father’s tattered Bible, he found inside a piece of paper. Opening it, he found a note from Col. Garfield of the 18th Ohio, a brief thanks to his father, who had offered them provisions as his men marched from Paintsville in 1862 to fight at the Battle of Middle Creek. The note commented on his father’s pride in his son serving. Doc smiled reading the note. He didn’t recall his father ever saying he was proud of him. With nothing left to keep him, Doc headed west.

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Between the time I decided to try Cowboy Action Shooting and stepping up to sign in for my first match,  I anguished over an alias.  My first thoughts were something including mule as Missouri is known as the leading mule producing state with Callaway County leading the way.  A mule from Callaway County won world champion in the 1904 St Louis Worlds Fair. 

 

On the drive to our first match,  I ran through a half dozen aliases trying to pick one. It was at the moment of signing in that Prairie Dawn as, "Alias?", that I blurted out, "Warden Callaway".  Warden is my surname that happens could double as a title.  The Callaway part is from an early pioneer of the area, Captain James Callaway, the nephew of Daniel Boone.  He was killed in a conflict with "indigenous people".   When the county was organized,  it was named in his honor. 

 

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Callaway

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Ok, I posted earlier how I got my alias but I didn’t, give a back story as I didn’t have one. So here goes:

 

Born in Rochester, NY of Scots immigrants, Jack Calder was apprenticed to a sawyer (A man who turns trees into lumber) at a very  young age. After several years of grueling labor, he decide sawdust would not make him rich and ran away at the age of fourteen. 

Heading the words of Horace Greeley, Jack headed west. Of course at this point he was just Jack Calder, the Cactus part came later. ;)

Who knows there might be more to the story! 

 

 

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I worked in a paper mill when I started SASS.  I recycled a LOT of old paper into pulp.  Pulp was born in the Indian Territory, son of a white man and half breed Cherokee woman.  He became a Deputy Marshall and wrote short stories about life in the Nations.

 

My maternal grandmother told me once that some of the McDaniel line had been Deputy Marshalls, on a trip to Ft Smith I learned that there were three McDaniel’s on the list.  I need to research and see if any were actually kin.

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Since so many others have told their story here, I decided to edit what I'd said in "Return to Toostone", together with some more detail, and post it here. Enjoy.

 

Back just before the War, I was just a green kid from Ohio, all of 15 years old. My dad ran a small newspaper there, and I was helping him while going to school. Dad always wanted me to get an education. He thought I should be a lawyer because I like to argue so much. 
My sister was a couple years older, in collage to be a teacher. She was smart, but naïve. 
“She met up with a drummer from down Florida who said all the right things, and made her feel special. She wound up pregnant and he left town. 
I borrowed a pistol, an 1836 Colt Paterson, from the man that taught me how to shoot, an old Railroad man named Oscar Cordell, The Big O people called him,  and chased after him. When I caught up to him, he took a shot at me, hitting me in the left arm.”

I rolled up my sleeve, showing Blackwater a nasty looking scar on the inside of my elbow.
I fired back, killing him. When I brought his body in, I was arrested for the killing. When he heard my story, a local Judge , threw the case out sighting self defense on my part.
But it didn’t end there. The drummer’s family sent a couple more of their kin to finish it with me. They didn’t fare any better than their relative had. 
The Judge got tired of seeing me in his courtroom, and advised that maybe I should make myself scarce in those parts. The War was just starting, so I enlisted in The Marines and got myself stationed on the Naval Blockade off the South Carolina coast. I also changed my name to make it harder to find me. I used a couple of names from cousins of mine, Cristian and Joshua. My original last name is Rogers.
Since I was called Sgt. Sabre, you might think that I could handle one, but the opposite is true. Any time I got a Sabre in my hand, I wound up the one bleeding. My fellow Marines, in typical Marine Corps fashion started calling me Sgt. Sabre because of it and I kept the monicker. On the other hand, I AM better than fair with my war souvenir, an 1861 Colt Navy. I took it from a Confederate Captain that didn't need it anymore. He didn't need his belt and holster either.
Towards the end of the War, I was sent to Fort Huachuca in southern Arizona to help the Army train The Buffalo soldiers how to shoot Marine Corps style. 
While I was on the way to Arizona, I spotted a gun shop with something interesing In the front window. It was an 1860 Colt, but it had been converted to fire cartridge ammunition like a rifle. He had always wished that he could reload his pistol that way, so I went in to ask about it. 
The gunsmith told me that it was something called a "Richards Conversion".  He told me that, if I wanted it done, he would cut off the back of the cylinder to allow a cartridge to be inserted. He would replace the rammer with an ejector rod, mount a breech plate on the frame with a frame mounted firing pin, rear sight, and loading gate on it, and cut the hammer to fit. He had parts to do it in stock, and it could be ready by the next day. I thought that such a thing was the greatest idea he'd heard in a while. "What's next," I wondered aloud, "Sliced bread?"
"Actually, maybe something better." The gunsmith told me. With that, the 'smith brought out a newer Colt. It had everything the 'smith was going to add to my pistol and more. It had a topstrap on the frame, making it much stronger than the older open top pistols I was used to seeing. 
"This", the 'smith said, "is a pre-production model of the next Colt revolving pistol. Colt's making most of them in a new .45 caliber, but this one is the same .38 caliber that your 1861 will be in. Just think of it, two pistols, that use the same ammunition." 
Now, by  nature, I wasn't one to spend money on frivolous things, but this was too good to pass up. After test firing the new pistol out back of the gun shop, I decided I had to have it. But I needed something to carry it in. I'd still need my old holster for my '61. 
"No problem", the 'smith told me. "The saddle maker next door can fix you up with a new holster, and a belt with cartridge loops for the ammunition like the Mills belts the soldiers wear."
I thanked him, and with the new pistol stuck in my belt, went next door the see the saddle maker. The saddle maker must have been in cahoots with the gunsmith, because he had a few holsters already made up for the new pistols like I had just bought. But since I was using the new .38 ammunition, he didn't have a belt with cartridge loops ready made. 
"I have plain belts that I can add the loops to, and can have one made up in a hour or so," the saddle maker told me. 
While I thought that that would be fine, I did have a request. The belt I was currently wearing was the one I'd taken, along with the pistol, off that Confederate Captain that no longer needed it. It was kind of worn and stretched out, but I liked the Officer's buckle that was on it. I asked that the buckle, be used on the new belt. 
"Sure, I can do that," the saddle maker said. "Leave it with me and I'll see to it."
 Next day, I went to the gun shop to see about my pistol. 
“Got it right here,” the gunsmith offered. “Turned out nice, too." 
The pistol was changed dramatically! The ’smith had done not only what he said he would do, but more. The most obvious was the new front sight on it. The old one was little more than a brass bump on the barrel. The new one was dovetailed into the barrel, and could be drifted as needed to adjust for windage. Further, the ’smith had re-blued the barrel so that it’s finish matched the new parts he’d installed.  
At the “smith’s instance, and after checking that the pistol was indeed not loaded, I cocked the hammer. The feel was MUCH smoother than it had been. Pulling the trigger was much the same. A short, light pull was all it took to fire the gun now. 
Thanking the “Smith, I headed next door to the saddle maker’s shop for my new gunbelt and holster. 
The saddle maker was as much an artist as was the gunsmith. He had done as he had been asked, mounting my old buckle on the new belt. The new holster was what the saddle maker called a “Half breed” holster. Where the back of the holster folded over to form the belt loop, it followed the contour of the body, dropping the pistol down a few inches from waist level, and was fastened to the holster's body with a separate loop. Since my old holster had been a cross draw, this one rode on my right hip.
Both belt and holster were stained a deep black, set off with a couple of nickled conchos on each end. The bullet loops, thirty of them, were centered on the belt.  My old holster had been dyed to match, too. Altogether it was a handsome rig.
“Here’s something else I came up with for you,” the saddle maker said. 
“What’s this for?”, I asked. 
What I had been handed looked like a miniature of the gunbelt. Less than a foot long, and only as wide as the bullets it held were long, it was a strip of leather holding ten additional rounds of ammunition. 
“Since the ammunition comes in boxes of fifty, I thought that this might come in handy to carry what was left over after loading both pistols and your belt. I call it a 'loading strip'."
When the War was over, I stayed in Arizona and took to driving freight wagons. I occasionally worked for the Law, rode in a few possies, and eventually joined the Arizona Rangers.

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I didn't tell my "personal history." Allie Mo is an actress.

 

It is that simple. That way, she can dress any way she chooses. She had a part in a play as an Indian captive (leather outfit and braided wig). In another play she was a Can Can girl. Another time, she was a Wire Walker in a Circus. She has been a saloon girl several times. Then, lately she has been a bit player in BW movies. Occasionally, she was a Victorian lady (until all of those clothes shrunk). The list goes on.

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 Took the name of one of Louis L'amour's characters and used it for about 15 years. Got lazy paying my dues and someone else ended up with that old alias. So I picked this new alias which probably fits me better anyway. Dusty Wyatt sounds like an old gun handler who is way past his prime. Kind of like me.  :)

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A Wapaloosie is a mythical beast of the PAC NW.....it’s also the name of a mountain and a horse camp at the trailhead. Where I’ve spent a lot of time mule skinning.

 

http://www.lumberwoods.com/pg25.htm

 

https://www.fs.usda.gov/recarea/colville/recarea/?recid=68064

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Whew, when I get to writing the words really fly. I figured that I needed to pare down my story so it wouldn’t turn into a novella. So here is part 2 of Cactus Jack Calder’s back story.

 

Synopsis:

When Jack reached Kansas he joined a wagon train headed for Oregon. An old Mountain Man named Pete took him under his wing and taught the greenhorn all he could on how to survive in the west. Leaving Oregon, Jack drifted south over the next five years finally ending up in Austin, Texas. Now 19 or 20 years old Jack was a man and a force to be reckoned with. The Texas Rangers were recruiting and Jack happily joined up. Assigned to the Mexican border area, the Battalion was headed by Captain John (Jack) Coffee Hays, a legend in his own time. After a bloody raid by the Juarez Gang from Mexico, against official policy, Jack slipped across the border and began antagonizing the gang in their home territory. While making a desperate run for Texas, Jack’s horse stumbled and dumped him into a stand of Cholla Cactus. Unable to spare the time to pick off the cactus, he jumped on his horse and continued into Texas. There a carefully prepared ambush by the Rangers killed or captured the bandits chasing Jack. Among the captured was Juan Bautista Juarez, the bandit Chieftain. The captured bandits were soon hung for their bloody crimes. 

And of course this is where Jack became known as “Cactus Jack”, a monicker he never lived down. Not that he really wanted to, few desperados wanted to face “Cactus Jack” after word spread of his daring deed. 

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I've always been called Hoss by people that didn't know my name.  Munny was taken from 'Unforgiven' becuase the main character reminded me of my father.  

Hoss's backstory is he is a farm boy turned gunslinger.  He's trying to right some wrongs in the world and help those who need it.  He's caring and treats people better than they treat him until they treat him or someone innocent bad, then he treats them worse.  He unintentionally fell in love with a woman he saved.  That's about it I guess!

Although I sometimes wish I'd have used Maurice as an alias.  I could've been a space cowboy!

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Mine is pretty simple.  If you ask my husband Uno Mas, there is always a Calamity going on when I'm around.  Kris is part of my Christian name.  That simple.

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You know how Mamas will name their little girl babies after a soap opera character.

My Pa allowed as I would be named after a horse opera character.

(My brother, Wes, was named for John Wesley Hardin, and baby sis Dixie Lea, for the Grand Old South and Father Lee!)

Jimmy Stewart's character in "Winchester '73" was named Lyn (spelling from the film credits)

The correct, early-Ohio spelling, not uncommonly given to the firstborn son, is "Linn."

As far as back story ... well, let's see ...

The Sheriff's Legacy

The Sheriff's Betrayal

The Sheriff' Journal

The Sheriff's Son

The Sheriff's Grandson

The Sheriff's Ghost

The Sheriff's Daughter

Troublemaker

... and now I understand why Sir Arthur Conan Doyle complained to a reporter that "the tall spare from of Holmes occupies an over-large part of my imagination!"

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I can see Utah from my house.

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Tried for a week or more to sign up for SASS on the internet.  Every time I was stumped by the 'enter three aliases' part.  My mind was blank, kinda like when a website wants you to invent a password using small letters and capitals and numbers and symbols and make it both memorable and obscure, in 30 seconds.

I finally came up with three names, all meaningless and silly/weak.  Put my head down and charged ahead with the on-line signup.  Then came the blank for 'email address'.  Mine is " jholcomb..." (J. Holcomb).  For reasons unknown, I read it as a word while entering it and it came out, "Joke 'um".  Much better than the weak stuff I 'thought up'.

The rest will be history . . .

 

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Thought I posted this a while back, but can't find it now.  Robert Heinlein had the character Lazarus Long and his sister Lorelei in at least one of his books so my husband became Lazarus Longshot, and I became Lorelei Longshot.  

Our backstory was that Lazarus was a banker in Tomball, TX while I ran the ranch.  In reality my grandfather worked at the bank in Tomball and got locked in the vault once when the bank got robbed.  The family actually owned several thousand acres of land outside Huffsmith which gradually got sold off, sometimes for as little as 5 - 25 cents an acre.  During the 1950s my grandfather, 2 uncles, aunt, and mother still had something like 125 acres total left from the original homestead.

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Madera County, where I live, is cursed with a layer of not-quite-concrete hardpan just below the surface of the soil county-wide.  You do not dig a hole here with a shovel; best to use some sort of machine, or if doing it by hand at least a railroad pick or better yet a 15+ lb iron bar with a chisel on one end.  And when the "Future Former Missus Hardpan" decided once that she wanted some trees planted in the front yard, that's how I went about it.  On a hot day, chiseling my way into the petrified earth, until I stopped at one point to wipe my brow, have a drink, and proclaim "Sheesh!  This damned hardpan's gonna make a curmudgeon outta me fer sure!" 

 

And an alias was born.

 

Bit of a historical backstory:

 

Bill "Hardpan" Lane made his fortune in the Klondike toward the end of the 19th century.  And, like most other folk who did, he preferred warmer climes.

 

He also liked baseball!

 

So later, with his hard-earned wealth, he eventually owned a minor-league baseball team - the Salt Lake City Bees (not to be confused with the present team of that name).  The team moved a few times, and ultimately evolved into the San Diego Padres. True story, that!  :)

 

And for many years my main match rifle (Rossi '92) has sported an engraved, crossed miner's pick and shovel in deference to Mr Bill "Hardpan" Lane.  Mebbe I'll add a bat and ball!  ^_^

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Bowdrie comes from a Louis LaAmore character, Texas Ranger Chick Bowdrie. Bowdrie is portrayed as a hardened Texas Ranger, with a reputation as being good with a gun, and who is feared and respected by outlaws and lawmen alike. He is described by L'Amour as a man who could have easily ridden as an outlaw or gunfighter, but was instead recruited by the Rangers. 

At the time I joined Chick Bowdrie was taken so looked for something else. As I was pondering for a week or so I was on the way to range when I got a call to bring some buckshot.

Buckshot Bowdrie was born; a Confederate  cavalry  soldier who fell into some trouble with carpetbaggers after the war, went west, and got recruited by the Texas Rangers before he got into to much more trouble. 

This story is loosely based on my Great Grand Father (Wm J “Buck” McEwen)

who was a early Texas pioneer and a member of a cavalry company that protected Texas during the war. Some of these companies later became the Texas Rangers. (Another reason “buckshot” fit well)

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Always liked coloured tattoos rather than just black so that's the PAINTED  part...and the MOHAWK  was because I had one when I started SASS =  PAINTED MOHAWK

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My maternal grandfather was born in 1869 and always wanted to be a Texas Ranger. He never made it, but became a Special Texas Ranger working for the railroad, riding trains like our air Marshalls. While riding on the cow catcher an old tree fell across his body and severed his right foot. The railroad gave him a night watchman job that lasted several years. I used his name, Tobe Mathew, as my first alias, until a beautiful female airline pilot from Air France said in pilot vernacular, "You mean Tango Mike?" That did it.

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Got mine from my favorite American Girl doll as a kid. Loved the character just as much as the name so I decided to stick with it!

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Well, it’s a pretty simple story...

 

Wild Will was/is an actual character; me. It started back in my late teens, when my close friends would call me Will. No reason, I guess. My family called me Billy, as did most people after my rookie time on the job. Those who took the time to ask, were told about Will, and some went on to become my closest friends. People who knew me were split between ‘Wild Bill’ and ‘Wild Will’ , the ‘wild’ part for fairly obvious reasons; handiness with firearms and being a character of sorts.

Not proud of the ‘wild’ part, and I’ve managed to put a lid on that for the last 15 or so years. When I started to shoot CAS, I decided to keep that moniker around as a reminder of the person I used to be, and a place I don’t care to return to.

The back story is I became a Police Officer in 1980, so it made sense that Wild Will would be an 1880’s lawman for the purposes of CAS. 

There you have it.

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I tried and tried to come up with a backstory when I started-wanted to be an ex-cavalry officer that became a civilian after the war, and other things along the way.  Then I settled on a moniker.  Wanted Paladin, but that was already taken, so I settled on SinCity Paladin since I live in Las Vegas and thought I would emulate the character from the television series.  It worked, at the time, for two reasons--1) my hammermark (or brand) is an S and a P combined (Think dollar sign with the vertical bar dropped halfway down), so the initials fit and I could brand cart, ammo boxes and leather items with it should I chose to do so and, 2) I always liked the character on TV and could identify with his ideals and traits.  It just didn't roll off the tongue the way I wanted it to!  And, I didn't want to be all in black at every shoot!  So, thinking about it the other day and playing around with the initials I came up with the new alias of Smoky Pistols.  Now I'm back to the original backstory and just have to embellish it a bit more.  

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My alias is easy. My favorite TV Western was Cheyenne. My second was Lawman. But over time I had put these heroes of the small screen aside. My wife had over the decades correspondet with Clint Walker, and eventually phone calls and visits. In the 70s I started collecting M1 Carbines along with having ads in couple gun related magazine, and during this time got a letter asking if I had seen ever or had a 1916 Colt Army Special in .41 LC, seeing my ad for military firearms. The letter was signed J. Russell with a phone number. Well happens that there was a pawn shop in area that had one in almost perfect condition and not re-blued. I called the number up, and told J Russell we had one in local pawn shop. He asked if I trusted him and would I purchase it or put a down payment on it for him. He was in Indiana visiting friends and would drive over,  asking my address. I said I would, (if he didn't follow through, it would be in my collection, or a future trade item). Surprise the next day when a Ford Thunderbird drove down our lane and out stepped John Russell, the Lawman. After coffee at our kitchen table, and small talk we headed to pawn shop were Mr. Russell made necassary paper work to have the pistol sent to his dealer.

Mr. Russell was a ardent firearm collector, shooter, and hunter. We continued keeping in touch until his passing, and was able to get together over the decades many times, just not enough.

So, when it came time to pick an alias, Cheyenne was my first choice, taken. Then asked if Marshal Troop was available, it wasn't. Now you know the whole, and complete story.  MT

Just to add: Mr Russell was a wise investor and got me on the road on how to invest. Me and the Judge at the 1st State match in St Augustine, had a good conversation on Mr Russell. The Judge also knew him personally.

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I started to flesh mine out, but gave up pretty quick.  Contrary to what the name would suggest, my character is a homebody who isn't very good at cards and doesn't like taking chances. 

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I didn't put near as much time and effort into my alias as y'all did.

 

I was a Law Enforcement Officer for many years, so a LE title like Sheriff or Marshal or Deputy just seemed a natural match.  After only 2 minutes of thought, "Hangtree" just jumped out of thin air.  I decided that name was fittin', so I stuck with it.

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My alias is a historical character. James Hugh Callahan was a very early Texas Ranger captain who also fought in the Texas Revolution and was one of the few survivors of the Goliad massacre. He led the first Ranger expedition into Mexico in pursuit of Indians, and wound up fighting the Federales in Piedras Negras, burning part of the town to cover his men's retreat across the Rio. He seemed to be quite a freebooter, Callahan's Expedition led to his dismiss from the Rangers. Another long story, but he was finally killed in a shotgun ambush in somewhat of a feud. The killer was arrested and feared that Callahan's friends would lynch him. He was right and was lynched! I live in Callahan County Texas that was named for him. I really wanted a Texas Ranger alias, but the famous ones were all taken. I found his name researching Texas Rangers and it rang a bell, drove over to the county seat and sprawling metropolis of Baird, Tx. ;) a few miles from here and found a big monument at the court house, I was like hey, this is perfect!

James Hugh Callahan (most of my research said the name was Hugh not Hughes,  but maybe that's unclear) I'm buried at the Texas State Cemetery in Austin and my marker says Hughes!

https://tshaonline.org/handbook/online/articles/qyc01

https://tshaonline.org/handbook/online/articles/fca16

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The Cold Lake Kid was born and raised, (under another name) around Cold Lake, in Rupertsland, (Now known as Alberta)

After a brief skirmish with rival white-eyes, selling fire-water to some of his own First Nation customers/relations, he took off for healthier climes, eventually arriving in Savannah, Georgia, (not far from where his european ancestors originally landed in the 1640's) just prior to some unpleasantness at Fort Sumter and the War of Northern Aggression.

Becoming infatuated with a Savanah belle and in an attempt to impress her, he joined the 27th Georgia Infantry.

He wore the uniform, never advancing beyond Private, (due to some mis-understandings with his officers), until Lee's surrender.

One step ahead of civil and Union military authorities, who wanted to discuss some missing gold coinage, he made his way back North of the Medicine Line where he lived, high off the hog, for a time, in York. (Now Toronto)

He eventually ran low on funds and stealli borrowing a horse, he made his way west, often crossing the Medicine Line, just ahead of whoever wanted to discuss matters with him.

His current location Is unknown.

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As I am a fan of Kevin Costner, Robert Duvall and Annette Bening; when Open Range set in 1882 Montana (Where Cylinderella was from) was released on DVD I bought it and watched it several times.  I went to a gun show in March of 2005 where members of the Dakota RoughRiders were dressed in period correct outfits right down to their six shooters.  I was intrigued so I went to their table where they explained what SASS was, gave me a brochure and invited me to shoot with them.  I showed up with the equipment I had - minus a rifle so Blake Stone let me use his.  As I registered for the match I was informed I needed an Alias.  The only thing that came to mind was what Annette Bening said just before the gunfight in the movie "I'll be seein you Charlie T Waite" so that was the alias I gave them.  Whats funny is that 
I and a coworker were in Deadwood SD on business so we stopped into the Midnight Star (which is owned by Kevin Costner) for a meal.  On the walls were displays of outfits from his westerns.  We sat at a table directly in front of the display from Open Range when the owner himself Kevin Costner appeared greeting guest.  He eventually made to our table to greet us.  At some point during the brief encounter I had commented that I used Charlie T Waite as my SASS alias because of the movie and had given him a business card.  He left the table and we enjoyed our meal then toured the entire establishment.  About a month later I received a padded envelope containing a Metal "Golden Dollar" Morning Star house chip and 2 autographed in costume photos 1 of Kevin Costner and 1 Robert Duvall.  This confirmed that I had chosen the right alias.

 

Charlie

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When I joined SASS I cast about for an alias. Everything I thought of was taken or didn't sound right, especially in the movies (not that many made). I was trying to find a name to go with my .African- American ancestry. So I hit the history books. At that time SASS sent you about 6 sheets of paper with all the alias' on them,,, it was a long time ago :rolleyes:. After I read his back story,, I picked Isom Dart 'cause it sounded "right".  Born into slavery,, after the war headed west. Changed his name. Cowboyed some, was pretty good. Kinda' sorta' fell in with the Hole in the Wall gang. He was on both sides of the law, ,,,"depending". He was one of Tom Horn victims, supposedly. Google his story, his grave is in northern Colorado. Would like to visit it one day.

Isom

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When I did some searching, I found family that fought on both sides of the Civil War, but the one that caught my attention was the one from the 27th Georgia, who had the same name as me. (OooKay says I. I guess that'll be me and give me a back story! )

On a recent trip from Ottawa, Canada to Florida, I stayed in a small town bearing my family name, close to where my European ancestors are supposed to have landed some 375+ years ago.

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When I joined SASS, I was searching for an alias. Lady over in Wenatchee suggested Badger Mountain,

because I owned some property up there. Loved the place. So I became Badger Mountain Charlie. 

Charlie is my first name. 

 

I fleshed out the story to be a small rancher that mined for gold, made bootleg whiskey, and tried to 

snooker my neighbors. In other words, a ner-do-well. 

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Howdy Pards, It amazes me how new shooters are still able to come up with such unique allias that are so appropriate with our sport. Since I have been a SASS member I haven't noticed competitors "shooters" all that concerned about the history of thier alias. I have had a few members tell me how they came up with thier allias. I enjoy hearing about the historic event or the relationship to thier allias. I haven't competed in any costume  competition. It's my understanding that folks that do have been asked to explain thier allias as it pertains to the costume competition. I don't feel that it is important that every allias has a unique story. I feel being kind, helpful and making sure that everyone is safe and having fun is the main objective. How many of you can remember when your competition helped you stage, shoot and tricked out your firearms. Now members are expected to pay to attend a course for these techniques. These awesome shooting techniques came over a period of years free from many of the best competitors. All allias are equally important to the sport of Cowboy Action Shooting. With or without a story. Happy and safe shooting regardless of your allias. 

Marshal Dillon Life--20316

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