WILLIAM EASTMAN
ROBERT WILSON


August 8, 1899
Arizona Republican Newspaper

A unique and picturesque character was seen in a hotel reading 
room here this evening, a man apparently about 65 or 70 years 
of age, tall and muscular with a weather beaten face and grizzly 
gray beard.  He wore an entire suit of buckskin and from the 
collar of the coat hung three tufts of long wiry hair that 
looked like portions of a horse's main or tail.  The man was 
William Eastman who was at one time a resident of New York 
but the greater portion of whose life has been spent on the 
frontier.

Mr. Eastman is one of the few men who has experienced the 
sensation of being hanged and lived to describe it.  And 
it was for the purpose of getting an account of his experience 
that an interivew with him was sought. In response to a 
question Mr. Eastman said:

"I have just finished an extended visit with relatives in the 
east.  It was the first time that I have been east since the 
winter of 1851.  I was scarecely more than a boy then, very 
large and muscular for my age. I caught the western gold 
fever when it was at its height and with a company of 
prospectors I started in the spring of 1851 for the coast 
and for many years led a wild and adventurous life.

"I was twice made captive by the Indians but managed to 
escape, the second time, however, receiving wounds that 
came near making an angel of me and the scars of which I 
shall carry to my grave. 

The closest call that I ever had however, was near what is 
known as Skull Valley, a small town in Yavapai County. I had 
been up near where the village of Burnt Ranch is now located 
in Crook County, Oregon and while there fell in with a man 
named Robert Wilson who had been a vessel broker in New York, 
but whose life had been embittered by family troubles and 
who plunged into the then wild and trackless west to seek 
the plains and in the mountains, relief from so keen a mental 
distress that he once remarked to me would have driven him 
insane.

I liked the man from the first. He was in trouble and my heart 
went out to him.  He and I became fast friends and were close 
companions for years. He had become a typical plainsman, 
rough of exterior, but a genial, whole-souled fellow who 
lived in his saddle by day and rolled himself in his blanket 
at night and slept wherever darkness overtook him.

He used to get the blues once in a while and when he did he 
would give himself up absolutely to a week or two of debauchery.  
Drink changed his whole nature and in all my experience among 
lawless characters in the west I do not think I ever met one 
who could compare with Robert Wilson for pure devilishness 
when he was drunk.  The time of which I speak resulted in a 
lynching in which I played the leading role as corpse.

One day Wilson and I were in Agua Fria Valley in Yavapai County 
and met some parties who were en route to Skull Valley in the 
same county and they told us that a ranchman near the latter 
place wanted to hire some herders. Wilson and I were out of 
work and hard up and we decieded to apply to the man for a 
job to tide us over. Upon arrival at the ranch we found him 
to be a coarse, ignorant and brutal fellow who as we afterward 
learned had been compelled to fly from his native place to 
escape punishment for a crime.  He was a sullen fellow with 
stiff bushy hair, swarthy complexion and black piercing eyes.  
I disliked him and distrusted him from the instant I saw him 
and so did Wilson. He hired out to him however, and went to 
work the next day.

We had been at work only two days when he gave Wilson a 
tongue-lashing for letting some cattle wonder away. When I 
heard the ranchman open up on Wilson I expected to see the 
latter shoot the fellow without further talk but he managed 
to contain himself and that night when we went into our hut 
on the feeding grounds, he told me what an effort it had been 
to keep from killing the man and declared that if that sort 
of thing occurred again there would be a funeral on that 
ranch.

A few days afterward a party of prospectors passed that way 
and unknown to me, Wilson procured from them a bottle of 
whiskey and proceeded to take frequent generous doses of 
the liquor which aroused everything mean in his nature.  
He became reckless and allowed the cattle under his charge 
to roam at will and the result was the some of them strayed 
away.

When I saw the boss ride rapidly across the feeding grounds 
toward Wilson and saw him gestulating wildly with the whip, 
I realized at once that the hour for the promised funeral was 
at hand. I saw him raise his whip as if to strike Wilson and 
at the same instant, a pistol shot rang out, a little puff of 
smoke rose above the boss's horse and the man fell from his 
saddle. He was as dead as a door nail when two of the other 
herders and myself reached him. The instant the shot was 
fired, Wilson put spurs to his horse and was off like the 
wind. A couple of the herders gave chase and they soon 
abandoned the pursuit.

I noticed that after the shooting some of the herders gave me 
looks that indicated that the act of my partner had prejudiced 
them against me.  The matter didn't worry me particularly and I 
gave it no further thought after I reached my hut that night.  
I had been in bed probably three or four hours when I was 
suddenly aroused from my sleep by a strong grasp on my arms 
and found them pinioned and a revolver pointed at my head. 
I was unable to understand at first what it all meant, but 
I soon found out.  My assailants were a couple of half breeds, 
favorites of the dead boss and I realized when I recognized 
them that they proposed to wreak vengeance on me for the 
act of Wilson. One of the fellows forced a gag into my mouth 
and made the strings fast at the back of my neck.  I felt 
that it was pretty tough to be murdered that way on account 
of what Wilson had done and for which I was in no manner 
responsible but there appeared to be no help for it.  The 
fellows tied my legs together at the knees and ankles and 
then carried me out and threw me across the back of a 
horse and conveyed me to a tree about a hundred rods 
from the house.

One end of the lariat was then fastened around my neck and 
the other thown over a limb and the scoundrels then pulled 
me up.  I can remember that I suffered excrutiating pains 
in my neck and back and my head seemed to burst. Then I 
began to lose consciousness and experienced a sensation 
of floating.  I knew nothing after that. 

In the meantime Wilson had ridden back to the ranch under 
cover of darkness because he feared I would be in trouble.  When 
the scoundrels left the scene, he appeared and cut me down.

It was several days before I recovered from my rough treatment.  
Wilson stood right by me and pulled me through in good shape.  
We got out of that country as soon as we would and a few months 
later Wilson got into a quarrel with another ranchman in 
Southern  Texas the the Texan proved a little too quick on 
the trigger for him and killed him before Wilson could 
get a shot at him.

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