Outlaw Country

There is no mistake: when you find yourself in the badlands of New Mexico or Arizona, you have entered outlaw country.

I had passed into a land that was strange to me.

The people of New Mexico and Arizona have a different sense of humor compared to the rest of the country. They can laugh about themselves as well as the rest of the people. They can laugh about the temperature being 106 in the shade and his pardner responding, 'But you don't have to stand in the shade.'

It's outlaw country when you find yourself standing on a narrow street in Ft. Sumner, N.M., the last known town where Billy the Kid lived before he was shot to death by Marshall Pat Garrett.

I have been to the small cemetery where Billy the Kid is supposed to be buried. I say 'supposed' because strong rumor has it that the Kid's body is supposedly buried elsewhere Still there is a headstone for William Bonney, alias Billy the Kid, in the Ft. Sumner town cemetery.

There was another tough outlaw named Black Jack Ketcham who teamed up with Billy the Kid. They reportedly hid from the law by holing up in a mountain cave just outside Tucumcari, N.M.

I have been to that cave. I rode up there on horseback when I was 19. I had to hitch my horse to a Joshua Tree and trek the last 200 yards on foot in order to enter the cave.

Once inside its darkened chambers, You could look out over the mountain and see for 100 miles in nearly every direction. With the cave at your back and a six-gun and rifle, you could protect yourself from all enemies.

I poked around the cave and didn't find anything. I should have expected that I guess. After 150 years, you would think the place would have been picked clean.

There were rumors that Black Jack and Billy turned some of the gold and cash they had stolen in their armed robberies near the cave where they hid. Naturally, that caused a lot of treasure hunters to dir around the cave on Tucumcari Mountain.

Now I know there has been a lot of digging going on there because I have contributed to the cause. Never found anything from my digs, although I heard a rumor that a tourist had found an 18th century $20 gold piece in the area.

Now, when I enter a casino in the Southwest, whether it's Albuquerque, Phoenix, Tucson or one of the desert watering spots where grizzled ex-cowboys call their temporary home, I feel at ease with the country.

This is outlaw country. It's my kind of country and if you don't like it here, I feel sorry for you.

Maybe the customers don't wear guns on their hips, although a few of them have the guns concealed on various parts of their bodies. But they bear the spirit and the temperament of the men of the old West.

I have played poker and blackjack in legal as well as illegal games across the Southwest. My stomping grounds included Tucumcari, Clovis, Hobbs, Roswell, Albuquerque, Deming and Las Cruces.

I partied with country western music legends and ladies of the night. Some of the people I met were ex-outlaws. They were all alive to the moment. They lived in outlaw country.

Bud Adair was a former enforcer for a Dixie outlaw band that operated out of Texas during the famous jukebox wars. His job was to leave a half stick of dynamite on somebody's front or back porch if they refused to use his boss's vending and jukebox machines.

Bud was running for sheriff of Maricopa County, AZ. He wanted to replace Sheriff Paul Blubaum whom he hated. He was a gambler, he formed a non-profit search and rescue organization which collided with Blubaum's posse rescue organization. Blubaum fumed but there was nothing he could do legally to stop Bud.

Adair used a lot of gimmicks to raise money, most of which he pocketed. He would raffle off a pony and make sure the winning ticket was drawn by one of his search and rescue members. He must have raffled off that pony half a dozen times.

He would organize fund-raising poker games at the Westward Ho Hotel and cut the pot to fund his political campaigns. Since the poker players included cops, sheriff's deputies and judges, nobody ever complained about them.

Somebody once pulled Will Rogers, the great humorist, aside and said, 'Will, people are talking about some of the folks you associate with. They say they're pretty seedy characters and they're worried about you.'

Will just chuckled. 'You'd do better to worry about the welfare of my seedy character friends,' he said.

Just remember one thing...

When in outlaw country, think like an outlaw. Realized that if there is a poker game, they will try to trick you. When W.C. Fields announced that all poker tables were made up of thieves, liars, varlets and an occasional gentleman, he wasn't just whistling Dixie.

Author: Geno Lawrenzi Jr.

(Geno Lawrenzi Jr. is an international journalist, magazine author and ghostwriter and poker player who lives in Phoenx, AZ. He has published 2,000 articles in 50 magazines and 125 newspapers. If you want to share a gambling story or book idea with him, send an email to glawrenzi@gmail.com ).