July 17, 2009
Went into the Beast last night and met Kathy at Fashion Square to see a sneak of the new movie Julie & Julia. Even though we arrived fifteen minutes early, the line snaked all the way down the second story of the mall and we didn't make the cut to get in. Drove over to Bombay Spice for a dinner of hummus and veggie curry dishes ($35, includes tip, house account) and then drove home. Speaking of veggies, I am in the third week of my plant diet. Goal is 28 days not eating anything with a face. Ha. So far, so faceless.

Excellent comments on yesterday's questions about the type of Naco policemen who shot it out with Jeff Kidder in 1908. Here is a recreation by Robert Ray of the New York Times article that ran before Kidder died:

And here is Kidder's deathbed statement: "I had not had a chance to move when two Mexican police came through the doorway with their six-shooters drawn, and one fired hitting me."

After Kidder's death, Captain Harry Wheeler went across the border to investigate the shooting. He interviewed eyewitnesses and the three wounded officers directly (one of them allegedly died of his wounds). The stories conflicted wildly and many put Kidder in a bad light. A bartender testified Jeff "had taken at least fifty drinks." Wheeler had to go to Cananea to recover Kidder's revolver and badge, the latter found in a pawn shop. Because of the political fallout, there were some fifteen cantinas in Naco and they were ordered closed and 20 Naco policemen and line riders were dismissed, including the wounded chief. Of course, as is often the case on both sides of the border, some of the discharged officers were soon reinstated.

"I can die with the knowledge that I did my best in a hard situation."
—Jeff Kidder

July 16, 2009
Drove into the Beast at 11 this morning to pick up my Big Billy oil, but it was too hot to transport via my pickup. Ed Mell and I went to the Heard Museum for lunch again. I needed to check out their gallery for an art issue we're doing this fall. Found a couple pieces I liked and drove back out to Cave Creek.

Decided to back up on the Naco gunfight and get some good types for the Naco policia who shot it out with Arizona Ranger Jeff Kidder in 1908.

I have great reference of Mexican Revolution soldiers and I started my search there. Always a bit dicey because the revolution is at least ten years later and any style you put on them may be a later fashion, sort of like putting a Nehru jacket on General Eisenhour, instead of a vaquero inspired short jacket which he actually wore.

But I digress. Here's my first five sketches, or audition, for my Naco Policia fighters:

An educated guess is that the police in Naco were not wearing uniforms but I could be wrong. The two guys who answered Chia's call were working the night shift, although in a border town that could be prime time. I really want to give one of them a big sugarloaf sombrero and for that inspiration I have some historic reference: the feared Rurales, who roamed Sonora and ruled with an iron fist, all wore sugarloafs, so, like modern day police in border towns who emulate SWAT team uniforms (black T-shirts with the word POLICIA on the back) I kind of think one of them would be wearing one:

The other consideration is, they may not have been the bad guys. There is some evidence that Kidder was drunk and may have pulled his gun. The New York Times reported as much in the next day's edition (April 5, 1908) so I don't want to necessarily portray them as nefarious, mordida type lawmen. I have a hunch they were typical local guys doing a distasteful job in a whore house infested town. Anyway, that's my speculation. I'd love to hear what others here have to say.

"A well-composed book is a magic carpet on which we are wafted to a world that we cannot enter in any other way."
—Caroline Gordon

July 15, 2009
Nothing kills a painting faster, for me, than serious intention. As soon as I grip my wrist and say to myself, "This is going to be good," I start to strangle everything in my path.

I did some decent color studies last night, warming up for the Jeff Kidder, Naco fight illustration:

But when it came time to do a serious intention study, this afternoon, I flat out killed it:

In fact I'm so disgusted with this I may pull this Classic Gunfight and put in another fight for this issue and hold the Kidder shootout for another day.

Very discouraged. Feel like giving up. Gee, I wonder what ol' Waldo has to say about this?

"A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, but he is braver five minutes longer."
—Ralph Waldo Emerson

July 14, 2009
Working on the cantina shooting between Arizona Ranger Jeff Kidder and two Naco, Mexico policemen, Tomas Amador and Dolores Quias. As mentioned, I believe I have a good idea what this bordertown cantina must have looked like even though my exposure to them was some sixty years later:

This is a patina painting of a small room filled with blackpowder gunsmoke. Also, whipped out another gaggle of patina studies, like this:

A canyon nocturne in the Chiricuahuas. Meanwhile, here's another take on the choking smoke of a cantina patina:

Has potential, but then so does this one:

And this one:

Need to combine the patina background with the action of the actual fight. Here are the sketches of that:

Results tomorrow.

"The secret of success is constancy to purpose."
—Benjamin Disraeli

July 13, 2009
Kathy and I drove to Kingman on Saturday morning. She dropped me off at the Power House Route 66 Museum, while she drove on to Vegas to attend a memorial service for an old friend. Tom Erickson was setting up his camera equipment in the back of the museum when I arrived. He told me to meet him at the "Al Bell Memorial." I laughed and assumed it was some humorous reference to a gas station display to celebrate Route 66. But when I got back there, on a big mural that runs for ten or twenty yards, there, in a six foot tall cartoon was a smiling gas station attendant giving the thumbs up with the name tag proclaiming, "Al Bell" And on his cap is the slogan "Al Bell's Flying A". And, although it's emblazened on a Texaco logo, I won't complain. As I stood there all alone I said out loud, "Well, Allen P. Bell, would you take a gander at THAT!" I was as proud as the son of a proud Norwegian can be.

We taped several voice overs for the Exits Exit video and then Tom, Charlie Waters and I went over to Calico's for lunch (I bought: $29, includes tip, house account). Charlie and I had a nice visit and got caught up on world and family news, and then Kathy picked me up at four, and we drove home, getting home 13 hours after we left (and 557 miles of driving).

On Sunday I worked quite a bit on patina washes:

And here's something I call "Teenage Mutant Kachinas":

Could be a funny piece with a tweak or two. Also spent quite a bit of time on patina borders, like this:

And this:

And this:

And this:

And this:

Which is from my sketchbook (sketch #9,400 by the way). And this:

And, I know this is getting ridiculous, but this too:

Believe it or not, all of these border experiments are leading somewhere. Where? Well, to this month's Classic Gunfights, wherein an Arizona Ranger, Jeff Kidder, shot it out in a cantina in the border town of Naco, Mexico with two of the local policia. The fight started over a woman named Chia, who Kidder "spent time" with at about midnight on April 3 of 1908. As he was leaving the bar he noticed a silver dollar he kept in his vest pocket was missing. Jeff grabbed Chia by the arm and accused her of stealing it. She slapped him and started screaming "Policia!" It all went south from there. As for Chia chiquita, there are no known photos of her, but having spent time, while a student at "Nogo U" in Tucson, we were, during our freshmam and sophomore years, required to attend border relation classes on Canal Street in Nogales, Mexico. And, although I didn't meet the real Chia in the B-29 Club on Canal Street, I do believe I can somewhat accurately illustrate her:

Chia: Una Puta Suprema de Naco

She is pliant but defiant. She is comely but tough, she has been abused and she can do her own abusing. Not a pleasant memory for me, or one that I'm proud of, but sometimes the artist needs to see the world, or at least see around the world. And, on this particular subject, I can safely say I have done my due diligence.

"Believe in fate, but lean forward where fate can see you."
—Old Vaquero Saying

July 10, 2009
Well, I believe this is a record for the number of cover designs we have gone through before going to press. Dan The Man just sent up covers 20 and 21 for our consideration. Here's a sneak peek:

Cover Contender #20:

And Cover Contender #21:

I like elements in both. I think the closer horse and rider in version #20 is stronger, but I also like the air in #21 (this cover seems to breath more). I also prefer the headline style in the second (500 Years Before The Cowboy). Trish Brink and several others up here prefer the closer rider because they believe it pops more and I think that is a valid consideration, especially on the newsstand. The ground seems richer in the first one, but Dan is concerned this cover may end up a mudbath, since the values are quite close in density. All good points and worth talking about.

So, don't just sit there, tell us what you think?

July 9, 2009
Came into the office early and worked on our big vaquero package with Robert Ray and Meghan Saar. Excellent images and text by Lee Anderson and Jay Dusard. Going to be a very sweet cover story. And speaking of the cover, we are having fits with it, trying to give the cover the right Old West patina. It's a color photo and the desert is too green for a classic Vaquero scene. Dan did four or five versions today, while Robert Ray is tweaking the photograph as well, trying to find the magic mix that will make it a winner. It's late in the day (4:15) and we still don't have it, but I have confidence in the boys to pull it out.

And speaking of age old patina, I had to go home at 10 this morning to meet the plumber (we've got a leak in the kitchen sink). While waiting, I started my daily sketches by whipping out a gaggle of patina washes:

After the plumber left (and I was $115 lighter) I went out to the studio to whip out some patina boards. Building off of the last several days, I felt kind of cocky (always a bad sign), and, so, I immediately ruined four boards. Here's the least bad of the bad:

And here's the second least bad (which still has some possibilities):

I don't even want to scan the others, because they are so bad. As, is usual, after the five bad ones, and just when I was about to give up, I got this puppy:

In the huge forest fires we have been having out here in the West, they are so big they are creating their own weather systems and that's what this illustrates. Thinking about putting Mickey Free riding towards it, at the bottom, with a mountain range ahead of him, burning across the tops the ridges. Should pop it into a nighttime scene. We'll see. Wanted to do it before I came back in the office, but chickened out. Too afraid I'd ruin it.

And speaking of ruining it, and this cover we're fighting, sometimes we get tired of fighting the same old battles (insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results), and other times we get tired of fighting each other ("Where you want the contest is not among people, but among ideas." —Casey Cowell). We are closing in on 100 covers and it can get wearisome, but I remember a quote by Alice Roosevelt, when in old age, someone asked her how she felt about outliving her enemies and she said, "I miss them terribly because they defined me." So, although we all get battle fatigue from time to time, I think it's good to remember ol' Burke's advice:

"He that wrestles with us strengthens our nerves, and sharpens our skill. Our antagonist is our helper."
—Edmund Burke

July 8, 2009
Went home for lunch and worked on several of the rough patinas I posted this morning. Added a running Kid to the lightning scene:

This illustrates the Kid running along the ridges near Picket Post. Also did another one, using a failed board (obliterated most of it with gray, but left a couple places for the original underpainting to peek through, and also left a yellow swatch, that is a pretty good take of lighting coming through the clouds. Oh, Happy Accident No. 2!

Also started another patina with integrity:

By patina with integrity, I mean that when puddles of paint don't look contrived, they have a certain integrity (to my eye). Usually, as soon as I begin to try and make them into something, the integrity starts to disappear. It's a very odd and intriguing phenom, but it's true. And so I start by loading up my brush and laying in an undercoat, all the while looking for integrity, then add layers with as much spontaneity as I can. Like I said, as soon as I start aiming at some sort of scene the magic seems to go away, but if I keep coming back to letting it be what it wants to be, many times it ends up like this. I'm not exactly sure what it is, perhaps clouds of sheep jumping. Oh, wait! See the sheep dog, at lower right? That's it! I planned it all along.

Kathy and I are going on a dinner and movie date this evening. We got an invite to see a sneak preview movie at the Camelview Five. Review tomorrow.

"Life's under no obligation to give us what we expect. We take what we get and are thankful it's no worse than it is."
—Margaret Mitchell

July 8, 2009
Still working on more patina washes, or, starter pictures, if you will:

I think the biggest thing I've learned on this quest for 10,000 bad drawings, is that to achieve almost any effect, there is an opposite way from the most logical, or obvious one. In this case I wanted an early evening dusky effect on the desert and after I laid in the sky and the pinkish foreground I experimented with my fan brush and brought some of the sky color (which was still wet) down into the mountains. It was too strong, so I took a paper towel and rubbed it out, threw the painting down on the floor, and, while waiting for it to dry, I started another patina painting:

But when I came back to the original twilight piece I noticed that when it dried it gave off a very subtle effect of twilight with the distant mountains blending into the sky as distant mountains tend to do at twilight! This is called a happy accident, and this is an effect I would never have achieved if I hadn't made a mistake. Ha.

Perhaps the best way to document my artistic improvement is to go back to the beginning. Not the beginning of this quest, no, wayyyyyyy back, to, say 1964:

Truly Trudy Bad

Fellow Mucous classmate, Trudy (Peart) Burrus sent me this drawing I allegedly sketched in Mr. Wallace's Civics Class at Mohave County Union High School in 1964. (yes, that's allegedly Trudy at left) If you can't read the writing on the trophy it says: "Brown Nose Champ 1964-65, 1st Place." Mr. Wallace didn't much like me and the feeling was mutual, but he sure liked the cute girls in the first row, which included Trudy and the second place trophy winner, at right, Jan Prefontaine. Not a bad likeness of Mr. Wallace, but the hands and feet are Platypus City! Typical juvenile attempt. As usual, the best thing in the drawing is something totally insignificant: his pocket protector, which is decent.

"In order for the artist to have a world to express he must first be situated in this world, oppressed or oppressing, resigned or rebellious, a man among men."
—Simone de Beauvoir, "The Ethics of Ambiguity"

July 7, 2009
As I mentioned this morning, I have contacted a feature writer about doing a piece on my quest to do 10,000 bad drawings. Here is the query letter:

The 10,000 Bad Drawings of BBB

I am closing in on 10,000 bad drawings. As of today I have documented 9,340 sketches and drawings, stored in a series of sketchbooks bought at Aaron Brothers at Desert Ridge.

My quest started on a dare, or, actually, a statement made, by fellow cartoonist, Dave Sim (of Cerebus fame), who once claimed, "Every artist has 10,000 bad drawings in him." I remember thinking at the time I read it (probably in the mid-1980s) that the claim was probably accurate. And, from time to time, I wondered how far along I was on the path.

Several years ago, the notion hit me that I would test this rule and arbitrarily decided I would execute six sketches a day until I made the prerequisite 10K number and see for myself if I improved.

Since I've started my quest, and, in an odd serendipity, I've read that Malcolm Gladwell, the author of Outliers, has postulated that the magic number of hours needed for mastering a particular field is "10,000 hours." He reckons Bill Gates had that much computer time logged when he launched Microsoft and the Beatles had that much playing time together before they conquered America.

I had several thoughts and concerns: would my drawing skills improve? How much? Would there be a breakthrough moment?

During my quest I have tried to do my daily sketches no matter where I have been, so I have sketches done in New York City, Georgia, Wichita, and New Mexico, and also sketches done in Mexico, Nicaragua, Guatamala and Peru.

The only significant time I missed sketching was when I had a heart attack, playing Wipeout at a band reunion in Kingman in March of 2008. I missed about five days, but got right back on it, and was soon up to speed again.

BBB

I got back an immediate positive response (assuming he still has a job after Thursday). He also asked me if I could illustrate how much I had improved and, although it's hard for me to be objective, here is an example of a study I did at lunchtime today:

This, of course is another take on the Apache Kid running (yes, he's whipping along in the left, middle distance), but this has some very sophisticated effects, especially in the distant cloud shadows on the mountains and in the clouds themselves. Believe me, I never had anything close to these skills at the beginning of the quest. Meanwhile, since I've upped my daily quota to ten, I have left a few boxed-patina gaps (with no sketches in them), and so, lately, I've been going back from time to time to fill in drawings in the patina boxes. Here is a patina wash page from last week:

And here's the quick gesture sketches I added today:

Heina Patina, No. 1:

Did the same thing to a batch of patina washes I did on June 28. Here are the patina washes:

And here are the patina washes with the storm riders I added at lunch today:

Heina Patina No. 2

Not quite sure how to count these. Since I already counted the ten patina boxes as my daily quota, not sure it's fair to count the sketches on top of the boxes. Hmmmmmm. Not inclined to count them, but it is an interesting new phase of the quest, with layers of effort adding tiny gusts of inspiration to almost every page. Now I'm starting to get nervous that it's all going to end. Ha. Typical artist behavior. Reminds me of the old vaquero saying to the effect that happiness is that moment between having too little and having too much. Ha.

Went and got our passport photos taken at Walgreen's at lunchtime ($7 each). Then had a veggie sandwich at the Blue Burger Grille with Kathy ($29, includes tip, house account). Bob and Trish Brink turned us on to this place last week when Ken and Lucinda Amorosano were in town. Very healthy food. Enjoyed it. I've been on my plant diet for eight days now. So far, so good. What do I miss the most? Carne asado tacos, Baby! Oh, and sirloin, and bacon and cheese crisps and key lime pie and chicken fried steak and albondigas soup and tampiquena and the Keg's filet and my grandma's Sunday roast beef. Other than that, I'm perfectly fine.

"Books won't stay banned. They won't burn. Ideas won't go to jail. In the long run of history, the censor and the inquisitor have always lost. The only sure weapon against bad ideas is better ideas."
—A. Whitney Griswold

July 7, 2009
Got up at 6:30 and took another crack at the Apache Kid blasting across the border on foot:

That's a little more like it. Like the forward momentum. Still debating exactly what the Kid would carry with him. A pistol? A knife? Both? I do know he stripped down to just mocassins and loin cloth for ultimate manuevering on his midnite trek.

We were mentioned in The New York Times the other day. Several people sent me the link:

Don't know if you saw this or not: New York Times

See paragraph 10.

“It represents this Texas notion of the white hats taking out the black hats and keeping the trophy,” Mr. Brinkley said. “It’s a True West magazine kind of pulp western mentality. For President Bush, this pistol represents his greatest moment of triumph, like the F.B.I. keeping Dillinger’s gun. He wants people generations from now to see the gun and say, ‘He got the bad guy.’ ”

—Jim The Reader

More Jack Durant Memories And Reference
“Have you ever read the biography of Durant? It is The Saga of Jack Durant. There was a copy of it in the Arizona Republic’s library and i read it. The guy was a genuine hoot. he even hung out in Globe for a while. Recommended reading for any AZ101 pupil.”
—Gus Walker, The Mapinator

Speaking of the Republic, I heard they are laying off 1,400 employees this Thursday. Man, those have to be deep cuts. One of the feature writers there mentioned to me he wants to do a piece on my quest for 10,000 bad drawings, but he's got to wait until Thursday to see if he even has a job! This is one of the Republic's premiere talents. Ouch!

"The generous and the bold have the best lives."
—Poetic Edda

July 6, 2009
Went home for lunch and reworked one of the images I posted this morning:

Wanted to make it more dramatic and yet shadowy, plus give the Kid at bottom, a secondary effect. Hopefully, you don't see him at first glance.

Also played more with the sunset aspect of the Apache Kid's run:

He's perhaps a little too casual in this long-distance posture, or stance, but then if you were running from Naco to San Carlos I think there'd be stretches where you might be re-oxygenating as well.

"They still believe in the family, logic, clarity, punctuation and other obsolete stuff."
—Isaac Singer, on why he began writing for children

July 6, 2009
It started with a signal fire. Or, actually, it started with the painting of a signal fire this last weekend:

As I laid in the twilight washes around this lone fire in the middle of nowhere a plot sequence began to take shape in my mind. After the killing of Sheriff Reynolds, the Apache Kid had safely made his way to Mexico and was in hiding in the Sierra Madres when he received word that the love of his life, Beauty, had been cut by her abusive and jealous husband, Curly. The Kid made up his mind to go back and rescue her but he also knew the U.S. border was crawling with troops and scouts (led by Curly) anticipating this very move.

The Kid hatched a devious and clever plan. He easily stole a hacendado's favorite stallion, known for its speed and bottom, and headed north in plain sight. With the help of a young Yaqui boy, the Kid built a huge signal fire, just south of Naco, Mexico. Sending the boy to the west on the stolen horse as a diversion (he knew the Rurales and the U.S. troops stationed along the border would come investigate), the Kid, on foot, set off on a legendary run, crossing the border fifteen miles east of Naco, skirting the Mule Mountains, South Pass and into the Dragoons.

Running mostly at night and sleeping in the crevices of the tallest peaks by day, the Kid blasted past every patrol sent out against him. Several times, while crossing an open valley, he had to divert from his path to avoid the dust of riders coming his way. There's much more, but suffice to say that gave me plenty to work on this weekend. Worked on runners:

And more runners:

And even more runners:

The Kid arrives at San Carlos unmolested, but how will he ever get past the guards surrounding Beauty's wickiup? Time to do another painting.

"The essence of tragedy is the struggle of right against right. In a tragic struggle, the victors become the guilty and must make amends to the defeated."
—I.F. Stone

July 1, 2009
Every so often I love to look at my many art books for inspiration. Last week I came under the spell of Rembrandt and ear marked a couple paintings to do studies from. Here is one of his paintings that caught my eye:

The Abduction of Proserpina, c. 1632 struck me as quite bold in its design, especially how he pushed everything over to the left which leaves this huge negative space to the right. Can you do that? Well, considering how dynamic The Abduction is, I would say, YES, YOU HAVE TO DO It!

So, I did:

The others are also inspired (or poached, if you want to get technical) from other Rembrandt paintings, including, but not limited to: Self-Portrait with Gorget, 1629 and The Entombment of Christ, c. 1639. However, the rock throwers in the bottom, right panel are from a news photograph of rioters in Iran.

I actually laid in a bold wash before I went to work this morning, and, when I came home for lunch I finished it:

This is the Apache Kid on his run (remember, he can outrun a horse) from Mexico to San Carlos to rescue—or is it a kidnapping?—Beauty. He knows where all the springs are (this one is in a side canyon of Arivaipa Creek).

Michael Jackson Vs. BBB Heart Attack
"On the medical front, I was thinking of how strange it is that a drummer for a long-defunct local band can collapse from a heart attack at a rehearsal and end up walking out of a hospital....compared to one of the best selling music artists of all time, who suffers cardiac arrest at home, with a doctor present, and doesn't even make it to the hospital. Of course, you haven't abused drugs for years....I think. It's a strange world, isn't it?"
—Mark Boardman

"The only thing I have abused is the patience of my co-workers and my family."
—BBB

July 1, 2009
I sent out the first batch of 8-Page-Mickeys yesterday. They should start landing any minute now. Got the first response from Albuquerque:

"Love those mini-Mickeys!"
—The Top Secret Writer

Yes, there is something so cool about those 8-Page-Mickeys, even though it is incomplete, people are responding. Robert Ray's wife, Bea, sat down, read it and said, "I want to read the rest." That's a good thing.

Finished the Apache Kid book last night.

Once again, if you want one, call Bob Pugh at (520) 293-1260. A couple interesting tidbits:

McKanna claims the Apache Kid grew up in the Ash Flat area of Arivaipa Creek and that he preferred this area to hide in (the book says, "The Ash Flat region is near the northern end of Aravaipa Canyon"), and also the Santa Catalinas north of Tucson, and then in the Sierra Madres. The book calls out Fronteras, Bavispe, Nacozari de Garcia (south of Fronteras and west of Bavispe), but he doesn't explain why. I'm contracting Gus to do us a series of good maps for this.

When the Kid ran away from Sieber and Pearce at the Tragic Pow Wow, he was on foot. Gonshayee, who allegedly became a sub-chief of the S1 clan when Apache Kid declined, testified at the court marshal, "I saw [Kid] afterwards way up the Gila [River]. . .Kid got up there on foot, of course he is better than a horse, can run better than a horse."

I'm using that quote for sure! Sometimes you can't make up anything better than the real stuff.

When the Kid came back from Alcatraz he was serenaded by the 10th Cav. band at San Carlos, but within days Captain Bullis filed a complaint against the Kid for the murder of Michael Grace near Crittenden during the raid a year earlier when the Kid almost went to Mexico but returned. Kid was arrested and transported to Tucson and put in the Pima County Jail. He was then taken to Globe for his trial which lasted only a day (and convicted and sentenced to seven years in Yuma). This takes some of the onus off of Sieber and puts it on Bullis, who is our heavy anyway. Interesting. According to McKanna, it's Bullis who sets in motion the final transformation of the Kid into "a renegade."

All told, the Kid spent two years in prisons from the San Carlos Guardhouse, Alcatraz, and the Pima and Gila county jails.

McKanna sites evidence that Massai teamed up with the Apache Kid in Mexico, and in October of of 1890 Captain Bullis complained of numerous disturbances on the San Carlos Res during the year and blamed Massai. And "In 1893 Captain Johnson admitted that Kid had made several intrusions upon the reservation. On at least one occasion Kid was accompanied by two Chiricuahuas from Sonora, one of whom might have been Massai."

Our friend Bachenol, who McKanna calls"Bachoandoth" loses his head. He was decapitated by scouts who tracked him down after his escape from the ill-fated Reynold's stagecoach ride.

Also, a newspaper claimed the best way to eliminate the Kid was "to offer 'head money' on the reservation." So, our decapitated beginning and ending, has some historic heft. As if we needed it! Ha.

Both Mexico and the U.S. feared the Kid's raids so much that, in June of 1890, Mexico approved a reciprocal crossing agreement that allowed troops from both countries to pursue renegades across the border.

Again, quoting McKanna: "In 1896 Archie McIntosh, a scout, suggested to General Miles that, with the aid of five Apache scouts, he could capture Kid. Miles, rather foolishly, endorsed the plan, but McIntosh went on a drinking binge and Miles fired him before he began his expedition."

According to the artist Ross Santee, the Kid rode with Pancho Villa's troops in 1915. Even as late as 1935 there were reports that the Kid "had visited old friends at San Carlos."

"Chance is always powerful. Let your hook always be cast. In the pool where you least expect it, will be fish."
—Old Vaquero Saying