TUCSON — Dillinger Days are held in this city on the third Saturday of each January, giving the locals and visitors a chance to dress in pinstripe suits, felt fedoras, flapper dresses and moustaches. The annual event at the Hotel Congress commemorates the arrest of John Dillinger, the notorious gangster who became the FBI’s first Public Enemy Number One.
The genesis of Galeyville, on the eastern side of the Chiricahua Mountains, was similar to many other short-lived boom towns in Cochise County.
In this case, it all started in 1880 when John Galey arrived from Pennsylvania to promote a silver mine. Since the prospect was only 60 miles, as the crow flies, from Tombstone’s bonanza, Galey visualized himself as the next silver king of Arizona. He secured some financial backing and laid out a townsite. Before long, Galeyville boasted 11 saloons and some 30 other various and sundry enterprises.
The boom lasted only about a year. The silver played out and Galeyville became another metropolis that didn’t quite metropolis. The story of old Galeyville might have ended right there, had not a pack of outlaws led by Curly Bill Brocius decided to take up residence.
The arid desert south of Thatcher is the site of the Wham paymaster robbery which, despite the name, had nothing to so with “wham,” “bam” or other common Batman terms.
It’s so named because, on May 11, 1889, a band of robbers ambushed a group of soldiers carrying a U.S. Army payroll to Fort Thomas and Maj. Thomas W. Wham was in charge of the unit. After a lengthy gun battle, the outlaws made off with $28,345.10 in gold and silver coins.
Eleven men were arrested in connection with the robbery; only seven stood trial in Federal Court. But, despite overwhelming evidence from the soldiers, all were found not guilty and none of the money was ever recovered.
Burt Alvord was a big, strapping, swarthy-looking character with a bald pate and an I.Q. that was said to be considerably less than his age, which was about 30. Alvord did have a few positive attributes. He was usually cheerful, had a sense of humor and was a mighty popular fellow in Cochise County during the 1890s. He’d been a deputy for county sheriff John Slaughter, who’d pronounced him absolutely fearless.
Burt was also pretty good with a six-shooter. Old timers said he demonstrated his prowess at beer bottles hung from a tree limb by a string. He’d shoot the string with his right hand, then draw with the left and break the bottle before it hit the ground.
His major interests seem to have been poker, pool, horses, guns and practical jokes.
Bill Downing was one of the most disliked fellows in old Arizona. He was moody, morose, bad-tempered, sullen and surly. That was when he was sober. He got downright mean and ugly when he was drinking ol’ red-eye.
He was so unpopular that even members of his gang couldn’t stand him. It’s a historical fact that one time when Bill and several other members of the Alvord gang were languishing in the Tombstone jail on a train robbery charge, a crony broke in and freed the other outlaws but left Bill locked in his cell.
He was so bad that the only thing good one could say about him was he wasn’t as despicable sometimes as he was usually.
If I seem to have painted ol’ Bill with a jaundiced brush, it’s because he likely would have wanted it that way. If he had any good qualities history has mislaid them like some old lost gold mine.
