| ©Contents Copyright Ron Young
|
A Story of the Killer Boone Helm
Never
before in the history of colony of British Columbia had such a viscious and
depraved badman, in the character of one Boone Helm, travelled amongst us.
Having killed, robbed, cheated and even eaten so many of his honest brethren
that it is doubtful whether even he, could have given an accurate account
of his crimes; still, he escaped the laws of two countries over a period of
some twenty years and left a legacy of infamy that lives on to this day.
Born in Kentucky in 1828, Boone moved with his parents
to one of the newest settlements in Missouri when he was very young. The rough
pursuits of border life were congenial to his tastes and, as a young man,
he became known for his great physical strength and his rowdyism. He delighted
in nothing more than any quarrel which would bring his prowess into full display.
He was also an inordinate consumer of liquor, and when thus excited would
give way to all the evil passions of nature. On one occasion, while the circuit
court was in session, the sheriff attempted to arrest him. Helm resisted the
officer, but urging his horse up the stairs into the court-room, astonished
the judge by demanding with profane emphasis what he wanted with him.
Boone determined to emigrate either to Texas or California.
Littlebury Shoot, a neighbour and friend had promised to accompany him. By
some accounts, Shoot had made the promise to a drunken Helm with intent of
pacification. When Helm heard that his friend was intending to stay in Missouri
he called upon his friend’s house and an exchange of this sort took place:—
“So Littlebury, you’ve
backed down on the Texas question, have you?”
Shoot, attempting an explanation was stopped by the preemptory demand:—
“Well, are you going or not? Say yes or no.”
“No!”
At the utterance of this reply, Helm dissolved the brief partnership with a bowie knife between the ribs. Shoot died instantly and Boone fled West.
The brother of the victim and a few resolute friends
followed in pursuit. They tracked him for a distance before capturing him
by surprise at an Indian reservation and returning him to Monroe county for
trial. He was convicted of murder; but his conduct was such while in confinement
as to raise some serious doubts of his sanity. In the words of the court,
“His manner was not only unbecoming but unbalanced.”
After his conviction, under the advice of physicians, he was consigned to
the lunatic asylum from which he eventually escaped and fled immediately to
California.
Helm killed several persons then in 1858 escaped arrest
by flight to the Dalles, Oregon Territory.
Late in October Boone and several companions left Grande Ronde river for Camp
Floyd. A first hand narrative of this adventure was detailed byJohn W. Powell
who unwittingly saved the scoundrel’s life near the end of his journey:—
“...on the 10th of April,
1859... I had crossed the Snake river just above Fort Hall, pitched my lodge
and was entering to indulge in a brief sleep, when I heard some one outside
ask in a loud tone of voice, “Who owns this shebang?” Stepping to
the door and looking out, I saw a tall, cadaverous, sunken-eyed man standing
over me, dressed in a dirty, dilapidated coat and shirt and drawers, and moccasins
so worn that they could scarcely be tied to his feet. Having invited him in
and inquired his business, he told me substantially the following:—
His name was Boone Helm. In company with five others he had left Dalles City,
Oregon, in October, 1858, intending to go to Camp Floyed, Utah Territory.
Having reached the Raft river they were attacked by a party of Digger Indians,
with whom they maintained a running fight for several miles, but none of the
party was killed or severly wounded. Late in the evening they reached the
Bannack river, where they camped, picketed their horses near by, and stationed
two sentinels. During the night one of the sentinels was killed, the savage
who committed the deed escaping on a horse belonging to the party.
(Eventually) … they reached Soda Springs on Bear river... and travelled
up that river until they reached Thomas’s fork... where they found a
comfortable cabin and went into winter quarters. Their provisions soon being
all gone they commenced subsisting on their horses, killing one after another...
making snow-shoes out of the hides of the horses... and started towards Fort
Hall.
The party kept together until they had got beyond Soda Springs, where some
had become so exhausted they could scarcely travel. With their meat supply
getting low, Helm and a man named Burton concluded not to endanger their own
lives by waiting for the wearied ones, so they left them behind.
When they had reached the site of Cantonment Loring, Burton: starving, weary,
and snow-blind; was unable to proceed. Helm left him, and continued on for
the Fort.
Reaching the fort, he found it without an occupant. He then returned to Burton,
reaching him about dark. When out in the willows procuring firewood, he heard
the report of a pistol. Running back into the house, he found Burton had committed
suicide by shooting himself. Helm decided to try and find his way into Salt
Lake valley. Cutting off, well up in the thigh, Burton’s remaining leg
(having already eaten the other) he rolled the limb up in an old red flannel
shirt, tied it across his shoulder, and started.
Boone Helm eventually made Salt Lake City where he was again driven out of
town for his atrocious deeds. There is good reason to believe that before
Helm fled from that town, he murdered two citizens in cold blood.
From a letter published in the Colonist newspaper on April 4, 1864 we learn
that Helm has made his way to Cariboo.
In July of 1862 the villain is reported to be at Antler Creek, some sixteen
kilometres from Barkerville over the heights of Prosperpine Mountain. Here
our story picks up in the words of W. T. Collinson, a miner of the era who
had the misfortune of meeting Boone that fateful spring, and the good luck
of surviving to tell the tale some 31 years later.
“Tommy Harvey, alias ‘Irish Tommy’ and myself left Antler Creek
with Sokolosky and two Frenchmen for Forks Quesnelle. This was on or about
the 18th of July, 1862. We journeyed together until we arrived at Keithley
Creek, where the three aforementioned gentlemen, carrying on a mule and two
horses about $32,000 in coarse gold, stopped for dinner. Harvey and I, continued
on three miles... where we cooked our repast a la mode Cariboo.”
Some have reported that Boone befriended Sokolosky
& co. in Antler Creek, although this seems unlikely given Collinson’s
account. More probable is that after passing Collinson on the road, Helm and
his associate met the three men either at Keithley Creek or somewhere between
there and Heck’s ferry. After an exchange of lead slugs, in which the
three gold-laden miners were slayed, Helm & friend, buried the greater
portion of gold and left the bodies near the road. Boone Helm and his partner
turned back to Quesnelle Forks in haste, intending to retrieve their cache
at a later date.
Collinson continues:
“We stayed at the Forks next day and saw the murdered men brought
in. They had made a brave fight, every man’s pistol (good six shooters)
was empty, and each man had a bullet through his head. Boone Helm and his
chum killed these three men, took and hid the dust, and if no stranger has
found it, it is there yet. For Boone left the country, I have proof of that...
“After leaving the Forks, I … journeyed on down, stopping at Beaver
Lake, Deep Creek, and Williams Lake. I met Boone Helm and his chum at Little
Bloody Run ...a few miles above Cook & Kimble’s Ferry (now Spence’s
Bridge).”
“The first thing I heard was,
“Throw up your hands!”
and looking up, I saw the muzzle of a double-barreled shot-gun about four
feet from my head. It took his partner about five minutes to cut my pack-straps,
after taking my six shooter and purse. The latter contained three Mexican
dollars and three British shillings. One of my old shirts contained a good
wad...” but a “small bag containing bullets attracted their attention
and saved my dust, which being tied in the old shirt pocket... was not seen.
They emptied my pistol, gave it back to me and told me to ‘git’
and not look back. As my road was downhill, I lost no time.”
A. Browning had just arrived in Quesnelle Forks the
day after the murders had been committed and saw the bodies brought in. He
gives the following illumination:
“The trail leading down the mountain to the Forks of Quesnelle was a
mile long and as I came near... I saw on the trail... a procession of men
carrying three stretchers. I found on meeting them that they were carrying
three dead men. They were found on the trail coming from Cariboo, robbed and
murdered for... each of them [had been] carrying bags of gold... Who was the
murderer, or who were the murderers? Everybody said in whispers it was Boone
Helm, a gambler and cutthroat who had escaped the San Francisco Vigilance
Committee...”
“Pursuit down the trail was determined on, and $700 raised to pay the
cost of pursuers. Boone, I imagine, got wind of all this, and escaped across
the line...”
From Browning, we see that the case was viewed with
grave sincerity by the community of Quesnelle Forks and that every effort
was made to capture Helm and bring him to justice for his evil deeds. Strangely,
Boone Helm did not go ‘across the line’, or at least, not for any
length of time. The Victoria Colonist next reports him showing up in that
city on October 13, 1862.
“Boone Helm, said to be a dangerous character, was arrested by Sergeant
Blake last evening.”
And
on October 14th:
“Suspicious Character.- Boone Helm, represented as a bad character, was taken into custody on Sunday night last, upon a charge of drinking at saloons and leaving without settling his score … Sgt. Blake, who made the arrest, said that he understood the accused had killed a man at Salmon River (Florence), and fled to British Columbia. Helm was remanded for three days in order to see what account he can then give of himself.”
And on the 17th.
“Boone Helm.- … was brought before the Police Magistrate yesterday
on a remand from Monday last. The prisoner was defended by Mr. Bishop, by
whom it was urged that a prejudice had been created against him in the minds
of the residents. The Police officers present denied that any such arrangement
existed so far as they were aware, and the Chief of Police swore that he was
known as a bad character. The proprietor of the Adelphi Saloon testified that
he had procured drinks there, and then when pay was requested, replied,
“Don’t you know that I’m a desparate character?”
Sergeant Blake said that people who knew the accused
best, were afraid of him. The Magistrate ordered Helm to find security to
be of good behavior for the term of six months, himself in 50, and two securities
in 20 each; in default, to suffer one month’s imprisonment.”
Boone defaulted and spent the next month building and repairing the streets
of Victoria in a chain gang.
As another historian echoes before me, “It seems
odd that in the newspaper articles at the time of Helm’s court hearing
in October 1862, that no reference is made to the suspicion that he was responsible
for the three deaths in the Cariboo that summer.” Victoria was a popular
wintering place for miners who had ‘made their pile’, surely there
would have been those in Victoria who had heard of Helm’s involvement
in the slayings at Quesnelle Forks?
The Colonist reports that authorities held Boone Helm
in “safe-keeping for some three or four weeks, in the expectation
that a charge would by preferred against him by our cousins on the other side,
and a request made for his surrender, but as nothing transpired, he was released
and three days afterwards the demand came.”
By that time, Helm was gone and it wasn’t until
the spring of 1863 that he was again arrested, this time at Fort Yale in the
Fraser Canyon.
W. T. Collinson says this:
“The next I saw of Helm was at Sumas in the spring of 1864 (Collinson
has his year confused, it was 1863). He was along with a packtrain owned by
Dan Harris (alias Dirty Harris)... Helm was on his way to get the dust hid
at Quesnelle and next day I got on my way to intercept Helm at Yale,"
From the Colonist:
“...a notorious character named Boon [sic.] Helm, who it is said to
have committed a murder somewhere on the Salmon River, has been arrested by
the British Authorities at Fort Yale on the Fraser River, and handed over
in due form to the custody of a Mr. Brandian, a special offecer sent across
for the purpose by the U.S. Authorities...” while another BC paper reports
“He was brought into the city last night strongly ironed. The first clue
of the detectives was the report that two men had been seen trudging up the
Frazer river on foot... Helm’s conduct on the road is conclusive evidence
that he was aware he was being pursued. He passed around the more populous
settlements, or through them in the night time. When overtaken, he was so
exhausted by fatigue and hunger that it would have been impossible for him
to have continued many hours longer… Upon being asked what had become
of his companion, he replied with the utmost sang froid:—”
“Why, do you suppose that I’m a — fool enough to starve to
death when I can help it? I ate him up, of course.”
“The man who accompanied him has not been seen or heard of since, and
from what we have been told of this case-hardened villain’s antecedents,
we are inclined to believe he told the truth. It is said this is not the first
time he has been guilty of cannibalism.”
Boone Helm was transported from Victoria to Port Townsend
where Collinson reports he “dug out of Townsend jail and once more
made his way to the hills, finally fetching up in...” either Boise,
Idaho or Bannock, Montana.
Here begins the final chapter of Helm’s depravity.
Having teamed up with the notorious Henry Plummer, who was sheriff of Bannock
and a thief and murderer on the side, Boone and his friends raised the ire
of the local communities in Bannock and Virginia City to the point where a
vigilante committee was formed to deal with the public menace. After capturing
five of the gang-leaders, Helm amongst them, the Committee tried these men
in secret.
On February 15, 1864, the Victoria Colonist writes
“Hung at Last.- The Notorious Boon [sic.] Helm, who so long suceeded
in escaping the ends of justice, has been lynched, with twelve others, at
Bannock Mines.”
Epilogue ...
His grave, marked by a well-kept metal headstone and flanked on either side
by two of the ‘oreniest’ cutt-throats that ever graced a gallows,
sits on a little knoll overlooking the town. These five were planted there,
plenty deep, on January 14, 1864, by the vigilantes who tried them in secret
and hanged them in public from a cross beam in an uncompleted building in
the centre of town.
| ©Contents Copyright Ron Young
|