Western Outlaw Christmas 1894
a true story re-told by Sam Travers
Kid Curry was mean; to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that.
Christmas morning, 1894, Landusky, Montana. Jew Jake's (real name)Place was part dry-goods store part saloon and oddly enough, about to be a part of Christmas history.
This was an odd fellow, Jew Jake! Easy to recognize as he had one leg standing, and the other missing. In the space vacated by the latter leg was propped a Winchester rifle, it was a bit slow going in a three legged race but this volatile leg had silenced at least two troublemakers, which made it a barkeepers best friend. In essence we can say, with clear conscience and easy heart, Jake was not a ladies man nor was he a great dancer. But Harry Logan (alias Kid Curry) held no interest in women nor dancing that cold Christmas day, so it is at Jake's that we find him, and not in search of canned beans or candy canes.
The Kid had been doing an exceptional job of wrapping any and all of his Holiday cheer in whiskey. He had been laboring on it most of the day until what ever fragment of goodwill he began with was now completely invisible to any human eye that might be reckless enough to wander in his direction. Kid Curry was in a very black mood and no amount of red or green, nor crystal white could sway him out of it. Black was his, and he wore it like garland! Unfortunately he had a mind to decorate the town.
At some point he grew restless, staring into a glass no longer satisfied him, the need to share was upon him, so out he went to do a little last minute holiday shooting!
In this he showed no prejudice, no one home received more bullets than another! Windows were his favorite! He even shot the blacksmith sign!! He treated all, as equals...there were holes everywhere.
Others, who had been in possession of that same special brand of holiday cheer decided
they to would join in, after all there was much town left and Kid was only one mean man. It was indeed the charitable thing to do! They proceeded to ventilate the little town until they got bored, or cold or possibly just got thirsty. Then it was back to Jew Jakes for refreshments. Neither the libations nor the bullets worked to fill the blackness Curry held so dear, no matter how regularly or skillfully applied. The void not only remained, but grew in size and hunger, needing tending once again.
Enter into Jew Jake's, one Pike Landusky, town father, and a man who should have stayed home. For months Pike had been looking to deliver a certain caliber Christmas card to Curry, a little note of displeasure for the seduction of his stepdaughter by Lonnie Logan brother of Harry. Pike and the Kid were sworn blood enemies; murky eyes met as brown teeth clenched, dirty fists swelledää the saloon held its collective breath, ducked under tables and hid their candy canes. Kid struck first, then Pike, and so forth and so on and round about until Pike found himself back to the floor and face to a six-shooter. He did try to reach for his gun, but never had a chance. Six in the face beats one in the coat every time.
Lonny stole the first wagon he could find, Kid jumped aboard and ere they drove out of sight.........he shot what was left of the town to shoot that Christmas night!
One can only imagine that after word of this incident got around, Kid Curry was not invited to a lot of Christmas parties. The same probably held true for Lonnie.
Sam Travers 2003