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In his forty years as a freelance writer and newspaper reporter, Bill Kelly had interviewed and written about hundreds of names familiar to us: Mickey Rooney, Rory Calhoun, Sylvester Stallone, Gene Autry, Roy Rogers, Broderick Crawford, Henry Fonda, Victor Mature, Ginger Rogers, Ida Lupino, John Wayne, Aldo Ray, Joe Louis, Rocky Marciano, Sugar Ray Leonard, Muhammad Ali, and Henry Armstrong are among many.

Bill has authored an astounding 15,000 magazine articles -- a phenomenal feat for any writer. He had appeared in Poker Digest, Card Player, Real West, True West, Treasure Search, Treasure Cache, Lost Treasure, South Bay, Country Review, True Detective, Inside Detective, California Highway Patrolman, Oklahoma State Trooper, Texas Highway Patrol, Inland Empire, Reader’s Digest, Poker World, Ring Magazine, Boxing Illustrated, K.O., and Variety.

His freelance work has appeared in too many California newspapers to list here, but they include, Herald Examiner, Orange County Register and Press-Enterprise.

His critically-acclaimed Collector’s Edition of Bill Kelly’s Encyclopedia of Gunmen is a reference book treasured by historians and Western buffs alike. Bill’s second book, Treasure Trails and Buried Bandit Booty, is a collection of true accounts of buried outlaw swag, and contains clues to reportedly hidden loot throughout the United States.

Bill recently appeared on the History channel as an old west historian in High Rollers: The History of Gambling.

His latest book is Gamblers of the Old West ($24.95). An autograph copy can be purchased by contacting Bill by e-mail: wildbill@cosmoaccess.net or by snail mail: 29759 Longhorn Dr. Canyon Lake, Ca. 92804.

Bill Was born in Tom’s River, New Jersey, on May 5, 1927. He now resides in Canyon Lake, California, where he spends most of his waking hours writing tons of articles to be enjoyed by thousands of readers.

His book, EMPTY SADDLES, is a nostalgic tribute to the sagebrush sagas of the 1940s and 50s, and contains Bill’s interviews with fifty Cowboy stars that made cinema history. No release date has been set for this book at this writing

Archive of Wild West of Gambling
MADAME MOUSTACHE: ANGEL OF SIN

POKER ALICE, THE WEST’S BEST LADY GAMBLER

THE AMAZING MADAME VESTAL

BELLE STARR: THE WEST'S MOST FAMOUS FARO DEALER

FANNY PORTER: CARD CHEATER'S LADY

GERTRUDIS BARCELO: GAMBLING QUEEN OF
SANTA FE

LUKE SHORT: THE PRODIGAL GAMBLER

Before the Apple Valley Inn ceased to exist in California, about 1985, several portraits of men and women who played major roles in the making of the Western frontier decorated its walls. Among those of note was Luke Short - lawman, gunfighter, and gambler extraordinaire.

Frank Dowler, old-time sheriff of Palmdale, California, probably won and lost more money at the poker tables than most. He once talked about the emergence of Short.

"Seldom did anyone make a laughing remark about his height, or the fact that the name Short might refer to his shortness. On rare occasions when they did, he would jump up and snarl, "No man can harrah me, and get away with it!" And that man would be looking into the business end of a gun barrel."

Beneath the Apple Valley portrait of Short was a plaque, which in part described the man as "an immaculate dresser and gentleman." "Dapper Luke," with a breadth of outlook peculiar to the West, wore a silk stovepipe hat, a fancy braided shirt with ruffles, and a diamond stickpin in his tie. He was something of a beau brummel in the West and wore a long mustache with pointed ends.

To preface his character traits, one should know his background.

The son of a sharecropper, Short was born in 1854, and in spite of fresh Texas air, exercise, and healthy food, he remained as thin as a whisper. He got schooling at home, and when he was 17, he joined up with a trail heard headed for Dodge City. Because of Short's size, a man from Nashville named Judge Stordon took him under his wing and taught him jockeying, and an unholy alliance was born.

When Stordon thought his frail protege was ready, they headed for the races in Hot Springs, Arkansas. Stordon also urged Short to practice a fast-draw and straight aim, because a fast gun could mean the difference between life and death in the deep gambling pockets that had yet to earn a place on the map.

Short wasn't interested in jockeying, but he hewed to the circumstance that had united him with Stordon. Gambling was part of the night life at the hotels in Hot Springs. Short won enough races to charm the ladies and get invited to sociable poker sessions. He became such so adept at blackjack and poker that he won the purses of riders and grooms in trackroom games. An opportunist, Stordon saw in Short the instincts of a successful gambler that was later extoled by his unlucky victims.

Posing as indolent transients, they pooled their racetrack winnings and visited all the gambling parlors in St. Louis, New Orleans, and San Francisco, always searching for that pot of gold. When Stordon died of a heart attack, Short struck out on his own with a leather gripsack filled with double eagles and a hidden pistol to protect his investment. He wore fancy attire, and among the miners he fleeced, he became known as "the gentleman gambler."

There had been some bad luck to curdle the good, and Short ended up so broke that he had to sell his fancy duds, his diamond stickpin, and even his horse. But with bandits posting themselves advantageously along the highways, he wasn't about to part with his pistol. Returning to the lure of the cowtowns, he worked as a bartender and part-time house gambler.

When Wyatt Earp took his poker game 4, 500 feet above sea level, where Tombstone lay in its heat-blistered facades, and where excited crowds passed in and out of gambling establishments fronted by wooden plankwalks, Luke Short tagged along. He and Wyatt visited all the grogshops in Tombstone, and Short eventually became a dealer at the Oriental, a gambling house partially owned by Earp.

One night in Tombstone, he was turning cards in a faro layout at the Oriental, when an hombre named Charley Storms started to shift his betting arrangements. "Keep your hands off my chips," said Short, as he proceeded to give Storms a blistering tongue lashing. Storms went for a hidden pistol, and Short's cane slammed down on his head, knocking Charley senseless.

Short's employers saw his showdown with Storms as a lure to bring in business. He became a full-time house gambler, and things were going well for Luke, until one night while he was banking a faro layout a shot crackled from an open window and went through his derby. Someone shouted, "it was Charley Storms.

A short time later, as Short, Earp, and a few of the veteran gamblers were playing stud poker, Short murmured to Wyatt maliciously, "Wyatt, I'm going to kill Charley Storms. If I don't he'll drygulch me, fer sure." "Do what you have to," Earp agreed. At that, Short threw in his hand and emerged from the lighted saloon. As he stepped into the street, a pistol shot rang out from a crouched figure behind a halter-polished hitch rail at the end of the road. Short saw a silhouetted figure streak across the street and he shot at it. The bullet went straight through Storms' head.

Short's newly-found notoriety followed him to Dodge City and allowed him to associate with memorable men in the gambling annals of Kansas. His green-felt-table associates were bankers, lawyers, businessmen, judges, and other dignitaries. But he also went on gambling blowouts with Bat Masterson, Wyatt and Virgil Earp, and notorious gunmen like John Henry "Doc" Holliday. The cards had turned right for Luke, he bought the Long Branch saloon.

In 1884 Luke Short had some trouble running the Long Branch because of business rivalry, so he left, and with his sale from the Long Branch, opened up the White Elephant, in Fort Worth, Texas, with its luxurious billiard room, its elaborate rosewood bar and sparkling chandeliers. The money rolled in .

A few years later a group of underhanded business men in Fort Worth organized the Commercial Detective Agency, which in reality was a front for extorting protection money from saloons and gambling casinos. The chief collector for the organization was Longhaired Jim Courtright. Considered to be the fastest gun in Texas, his cross draw made him equal, if not superior, to men like Wild Bill Hickok, Johnny Ringo, and Wes Hardin. Short had no desire to brave the fire of Courtright's awesome pistols. Just the thought of it made him as nervous as a calf with clabbers.

But things go as fate wills.

Courtright's fearsome reputation with a gun made him a successful collector for the agency, and every gambling joint and saloon owner paid up rather than go against him. On the night of February 8, 1887, he strolled through the batwings of the White Elephant Saloon to collect from Short. Luke told him to go to hell. Courtright was startled. "I - I'll be back," he snarled, "and you'd better pay up!"

Most of Short's friends advised him comply with Courtright's demands.

The next evening, Courtright returned to the White Elephant. Short was running the roulette wheel. Courtright stepped through the crowd and asked for the money. Without looking up, Short told him, "I have no intention of paying - is that plain enough?"

So Longhaired Jim went for his gun and so did Little Luke. Short fired a split second before Courtright's gun was leveled, and the slug severed Courtright's thumb on his gunhand. Courtright attempted a "border shift" of tossing his .45 from his right hand to his left. While the gun was in mid-air, passing from one hand to the other, Little Luke got in his second shot. The bullet struck Courtright squarely between the eyes. David had slain Goliath.

The following day the body of Jim Courtright, gunfighter, lawman, fireman, and shakedown artist, were borne to the Oakland Cemetery. The funeral procession stretched a city block. The vehicles included the hook and ladder wagon of the fire department, of which Jim had served honorably, and that vehicle was draped in black tapestry.

To understand why the killing of Jim Courtright, the fastest man with a gun in Texas, by the pigmy-sized gambler was so baffling, certain details must explained. Courtright came in with his six-guns in holsters. Luke didn't wear holsters. His gun was in his hip pocket, and anybody knowing about gunfighting knows that a man with a gun in his hip pocket against a gunfighter with one in a holster has practically no chance at all against him, even if the man with a holster gun is a mite quicker.

His White Elephant gambling hall was packed night after night with ogled customers who not only wanted to gamble, or see nude or seminude girls on the stage, but also people who wanted to shake the hand of the man who had killed the notorious Jim Courtright. Gamblers didn't mind losing their hard-earned money, so long as they could boast that they had sat in on a card game with the famous Luke Short.

Luke Short died peacefully in bed in Tueda Springs, Kansas, September 8, 1893. Ironically enough, when Luke killed Courtright, Jim was 39-years old; when Luke passed on, he, too, was 39-years-old.

Today the prodigal gambler and Courtright rest in the same cemetery.