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Black Bart

by J. Younger

Events & Genealogy
Born: Charles Earl Bowles
Birthplace: Little Dunham, Norfolk, England
Birthdate: April 5, 1828
Marriage: Mary Elizabeth Johnson in 1854
Children:
Ida Martha Boles (1857-1899)
Eva Ardella Boles (1860-1922)
Frances Lillian Boles (1861-1929)
Arian Boles (1865-1871)
Death:
Burial: Unknown

Black Bart: The Gentleman Bandit of the Old West

Black Bart, whose real name was Charles Bowles, was the 9th born sibling of 13 brothers and sisters. He was born on April 5, 1828 to parents John Wright Bowles and Charlotte Maria Ledgett. Charles was born in Little Dunham, Norfolk, England.
Not much is known about Charles early life but he did turn up in America at New York in 1831 with his family.

In 1849, Charles joined the California Gold Rush, traveling to the Sacramento goldfields with his cousin David. The work was grueling and unprofitable, prompting his return to New York after a year. In 1852, undeterred, he ventured back to California with his brother Robert and cousin David. Tragedy struck when both relatives died of illness, leaving Charles to mine alone for two more years before returning east in 1854, disillusioned by his lack of success.

Mr. Charles Bowles married Mary E. Johnson at the age of 19 in 1856 at Farmington, Iowa. At the time of their marriage, Charles was 28, and shortly thereafter, the couple welcomed their first daughter, Ida, on April 26, 1857, in New Oregon Township, Iowa. It was here at marriage where Charles Bowles respelled his name as “Boles”.
In 1860, the family of three relocated to Alexandria, New York, which was Mary’s hometown. It was in New York that the couple gave birth to their second child, Eva, on June 16, 1860. Following Eva’s birth, the family returned to the Midwest, where they welcomed another child, born on June 6, 1861, in Decatur, Illinois.

When the Civil War broke out, he enlisted in the 116th Illinois Infantry Volunteers, rising to the rank of sergeant and participating in key battles, including General Sherman’s March to the Sea. After the war, he returned to farming.
After arriving back home and then moving to Minnesota, the Boles’ had their last child, Arian Boles. She was born on January 2, 1865, at Howard Lake, Minnesota. In 1867, he left his family again to prospect in Montana and Idaho.
Back home by 1870, the family of six had settled back in Iowa. Tragically, in August 1871, their youngest daughter, Arian, passed away, possibly due to drowning near Shellsburg, Iowa.
The following year Charles lost both his parents. In New York, his mother passed away in September 16, 1872. His father, at age 84 followed just nine days later on September 25.
For reasons unknown Charles left his family and home again, possibly having something to do with his daughters death.

The catalyst for Charles Boles’ criminal career appears to have been a dispute with Wells Fargo. While prospecting in Montana, Boles purchased a share in a mine, but when he refused to sell it to Wells Fargo, the company allegedly cut off his water supply, forcing him to abandon the venture. Enraged, Boles wrote to his wife, vowing revenge against the company. This grievance would fuel his outlaw activities for nearly a decade.

In 1875, Boles adopted the persona of Black Bart, a name inspired by a fictional villain from a dime novel titled The Case of Summerfield by William Henry Rhodes, published in the Sacramento Union. The story’s antagonist, a fearsome robber dressed in black, resonated with Boles, who crafted his own version of the character. Unlike the novel’s villain, however, Boles’ Black Bart was a gentlemanly figure, marked by sophistication and restraint.

Black Bart’s criminal career began on July 26, 1875, when he robbed a Wells Fargo stagecoach near Copperopolis, California. Wearing a long linen duster coat, a bowler hat, and a flour sack with eyeholes cut out as a mask, he brandished a double-barreled shotgun and politely demanded the strongbox. To intimidate the driver, he called out to imaginary accomplices in the bushes, where he had rigged sticks to resemble rifle barrels. The ruse worked, and he made off with $160 without firing a shot. This clever deception became a hallmark of his robberies.

Over the next eight years, Black Bart may have robbed up to 28 Wells Fargo stagecoaches across Northern California and Southern Oregon, often targeting routes along the historic Siskiyou Trail. His methods were meticulous: he studied stagecoach schedules, chose remote locations where drivers had to slow down, and worked alone to minimize the risk of betrayal. According to legend, he committed all his robberies on foot, as some say he was terrified of horses.

In the historic town of Cazadero, California, nestled amidst rugged landscapes, the late 19th century saw a surge in logging, mining, and railroad operations. This bustling hub of industry, with its intricate network of trails weaving through dense forests toward the Pacific coast, provided an ideal setting for the infamous outlaw Black Bart to orchestrate his daring stagecoach robberies. The labyrinth of paths, forged for timber transport, mineral extraction, and rail lines, created a haven for ambushes and heists and Black Bart took full advantage.

Bart’s gentlemanly demeanor was legendary. He never robbed passengers, focusing solely on Wells Fargo’s strongboxes and mailbags, and he treated victims with courtesy, especially women. In one instance, when a female passenger threw her purse at him in panic, he returned it, saying, “Madam, I do not wish your money.” His polite commands, delivered in a deep, resonant voice, and his refusal to use profanity (except in his poems) earned him the nickname “Gentleman Bandit.”

Black Bart’s most distinctive trait was his penchant for poetry. At his fourth robbery on August 3, 1877, near Point Arena, California, he left behind a note that read:

“I’ve labored long and hard for bread,
For honor and for riches,
But on my corns too long you’ve tread,
You fine haired sons of bitches.”
~Black Bart, the Po8.

A year later, on July 25, 1878, after robbing a stagecoach from Quincy to Oroville, he left another poem:

“Here I lay me down to sleep
To await the coming morrow,
Perhaps success, perhaps defeat,
And everlasting sorrow.
I’ve labored long and hard for bread,
For honor and for riches,
But on my corns too long you’ve tread,
You fine-haired sons of bitches.
Let come what will, I’ll try it on,
My condition can’t be worse;
And if there’s money in that box,
‘Tis money in my purse.”
~Black Bart, the Po8

These poems, signed with his alias “Po8” baffled lawmen and captivated the public. They were not only taunts but also expressions of his grudge against Wells Fargo, whom he blamed for his misfortunes. Though he left poems at only two robberies, they cemented his legend as the “Poet of the Sierra.”

Wells Fargo, exasperated by Bart’s repeated targeting of their stagecoaches, which resulted in losses of over $18,000, tasked their chief detective, James B. Hume, with capturing the elusive bandit. Bart’s success stemmed from his careful planning and ability to blend into society. In San Francisco, he lived as Charles E. Bolton, a dapper gentleman who claimed to be a mining engineer. His frequent “business trips” coincided with his robberies, but his refined appearance and quiet life at Webb’s Hotel kept him above suspicion.

Bart’s luck ran out on November 3, 1883, during a robbery near Copperopolis, the same location as his first heist. The stagecoach, driven by Reason McConnell, carried a passenger, Jimmy Rolleri, who had stepped off to hunt. When Bart stopped the coach and began hacking open the bolted strongbox, Rolleri returned and fired, wounding Bart in the hand. Bart fled with $4,800 in gold but left behind personal items, including a handkerchief with a laundry mark, F.X.O.7.

Detective Hume traced the laundry mark to a San Francisco washhouse, where the owner identified the handkerchief’s owner as Charles E. Bolton. When confronted, Boles initially denied being Black Bart but later admitted to some robberies, believing the statute of limitations had expired for earlier crimes. A Bible inscribed with his real name, a gift from his wife, confirmed his identity. Wells Fargo pressed charges only for the final robbery, and in 1884, Boles was sentenced to six years in San Quentin Prison.

At San Quentin, Boles was a model prisoner, working in the prison’s drug department and honing his skills as a chemist. His good behavior earned him an early release on January 21, 1888. Upon leaving prison, he was swarmed by reporters who asked if he would return to robbing stagecoaches.
“No, gentlemen,”
he replied with a smile,
“I’m through with crime.”
When asked if he would write more poetry, he quipped,
“Didn’t you hear me say I’m through with crime?”

After his release, Boles wrote to his wife, Mary, in Hannibal, Missouri, expressing frustration at being shadowed by Wells Fargo and a desire to “get away from everybody.” In February 1888, he checked into the Palace Hotel in Visalia, California, and then vanished. His fate remains one of the Wild West’s enduring mysteries. Some rumors suggest he lived quietly in Marysville, California, as a pharmacist or was buried in an unmarked grave in Knights Landing. Others claim he moved to Japan or died in New York in 1917. A romanticized tale even suggests Wells Fargo paid him a stipend to stop robbing their stages, though no evidence supports this.

To be continued soon!!

"I grew up in Sonoma county north of San Francisco in a small town called Cazadero. We lived in the mountains above the town. The road up is very windy and goes all the way to Fort Ross. It’s an old stage coach road and the old stage stop house at the top is still there (or was 20 years ago). On the way up the road there is a huge rock on the side of the mountain, mossy and covered with ferns. My dad and all the locals used to say it was Black Bart’s rock and he robbed stages hiding behind it as they went up the mountain."