On this day in 1876, Jack McCall murdered Wild Bill Hickok in Deadwood, South Dakota. The so-called ‘dead man’s hand” Hickok was holding isn’t entirely known. Two black aces and two black eights are accepted. The fifth card, if even dealt, is not.

First, something about Hickok: he was a folk hero known for his life on the frontier as a soldier, scout, lawman, cattle rustler, gunslinger, gambler, showman, and actor, and for his involvement in gunfights. Some fictionalized, some not. He was, though, a legend during his life.

Back to the fateful hand dealt him. Even the black aces and eights have been called into question by a man claiming to have retrieved the cards. The man gave the cards to his son, who told another person the cards were the ace of diamonds, the ace of clubs, the two black eights, clubs and spades, and the queen of hearts. But there was no evidence to support the claim.

Hickok’s biographer, Joseph Rosa, wrote about the hand in which the fifth card was the queen of clubs, along with the black aces and eights. The two pairs, black aces and eights, became known as the dead man’s hand, but they weren’t associated with Hickok until 50 years after his murder in yet another book.

The fifth card is open to speculation. The nine and jack of diamonds come up often. The fifth card has been described as a bullet to the brain from behind because, for Hickok, it was.

The story of Wild Bill has fascinated me since I was a child. I watched the television show in the 1950s featuring him and his fictional sidekick, Jingles, played by Guy Madison and Andy Devine]. I had the lockbox from the show and a fringe coat like the one Jingles wore. My parents got me the Wild Bill outfit, including two six-guns and a holster. That is another story in itself.

Later, I followed the path of Wild Bill from Illinois to South Dakota, where he died at 39 years of age in Saloon No. 10, and read up on the trial of Jack McCall. McCall was found not guilty but tried a second time; the defense of double jeopardy failed on technical grounds. From trial and appeal, McCall was hanged in just under three months. That is speedy justice and interesting to read about.

I played some poker at Saloon No. 10 and won a small amount of money playing blackjack, but it was enough to get my photo taken with the lovely lady dealing cards. I still have the photo somewhere.

Usually, on Facebook, I post a memory from this date; it is from something I put on. This one was by another person, and thinking about it made me smile.

Many years ago, things were different. For a few years, it was the old proverbial cats and dogs relationship. It wasn’t always pretty, and details aren’t necessary, but to use a trite phrase I hate in the past tense, “It was what it was.”

It brings something up for later. My wife became aware that certain kids, boys mostly, seemed to get in tussles with others. I remember she asked me various times why, and not being a sociologist, I gave the only answer that made sense to me.

“We’re from a small town, there was really nothing else to do.” We drank some, but I didn’t add that since I figured she knew it. Words to that effect, which she challenged because it made no sense.

Fast-forward 40-45 years. We attended an off-year class reunion. Tom was there. I have a photo of the two of us from that night. It had been since we were in school I’d seen him. While the relationship had been chilly at one time, it was, after all, years ago. I decided to chat with him.

I’m glad I did. We talked about our lives, some from when we were kids to the present. Like most of us, he joined the military, married, had kids, played pool quite well, sang karaoke, loved his family, and was battling a medical problem.

I spoke with others but seemed to gravitate to him for more conversation, maybe because of how things once were and how we followed different paths but ended up with much in common. One thing we didn’t have in common was getting swats in school. We all got them, and girls were not exempt. But, one year, Tom got 199. He kept track because he was in a race with another kid, and his goal was 200.

The discerning reader will note the date he wrote, July 29, 2014. He was acknowledging a birthday greeting from me and had a question. Less than a year later, on April 12, Tom died. Looking back, I’m glad we had that evening together.

Incidentally, as my wife listened and joined in, she asked him the same question she had asked me about this fascination some seemed to have with pursuing pugilism, though not in those words. Tom thought momentarily, then said, “There wasn’t anything else to do.” I laugh now; it was vindication.

Rest In Peace, Tom.

Funny, I used to earn some money shooting sticks, though mostly beer. Now, this is a game my grandparents had in their bar. Few people have heard of or played bumper pool, but my grandfather was a master at it. It is a strategy game in a sense and requires being able to bank shots and block your opponent.

When I state my grandfather was a master, it’s because my grandparents had the only bumper pool tale I recall seeing in their bar, and he loved shooting pool.

When my grandparents sold one of their bars, we moved the regular pool table and the bumper pool to our home. I loved the game. Friends would play at the house, but eight-ball was preferred because bars only had traditional tables, and there was no money-mastering game one could play elsewhere.

Now, 8 and 9 ball are money games. Well, nine-ball is for sure. Eight-ball is played mostly for a beer for the winner or a couple of bucks a game. Bumper pool is just a game I played for fun. It involves bank shots and is really a strategy game. My grandfather was pretty much a master at both. A hustler, some would have called him. He would play any game for money, including checkers.

The interesting thing about pool in a bar is that it caused more fights than anything else. My grandmother once told me it was second only to a woman entering the bar. Add a full moon; she expected trouble no matter what.

On the quarters, the trouble wasn’t because someone lost, but because they were arguing over whose quarter was next on the table even though quarters tend to look alike, except for the person claiming it. That person, and one other, always knew THEIR quarter. A person doesn’t take it lightly when another claims the same quarter. None do.

When my uncle Kenny took over the last bar they had, he devised a system to eliminate fighting over who was next. He put up a blackboard, and you wrote your name on it in descending order. In theory, you crossed your name off when it was your turn. That pretty much ended the problems unless someone wasn’t paying attention and missed their game.

I enjoyed growing up in a bar. I learned a lot, and some of what I took away was helpful later in life.

Over the past forty-plus years, I have received various plaques and certificates. The one shown is the only one I care about, although there is one other I wish I had.

Some attorneys purchase awards; I have seen them on websites from time to time. The Martindale-Hubbell one is earned based on peer review and is only sometimes an easy group to please.

Some people believe we’re all in cahoots with each other, working together against their interests. Nothing could be further from the truth. Many attorneys go out of their way to take down their own. It was always like that. We fought hard against each other, but only in court. Perhaps there are too many lawyers, and competition drives some to it.

When I started in Portage County, there were five attorneys with the highest Martindale-Hubbell rating in the whole county. I clerked for one of them. For more than 130 years, Martindale-Hubbell has evaluated attorneys for solid legal ability and high ethical standards through a Peer Review Rating system.

It started with the first publication to provide such ratings to attorneys because there was no way to know if the lawyer a person was considering doing business with was trustworthy, ethical, or skilled in the legal field.

So, I like it, appreciate it, and am proud of it. But I also know I have to maintain a level of competence because it can be lost at any time.

Gun control should never be an issue. The Second Amendment is clear. Trite as it sounds, guns don’t kill people, but bad people with guns do.

We can’t stop murder. Murder is against the law. More laws against murder won’t stop murder. There will

always be people who break the law. It’s the same as more laws

against guns. We know bad people won’t follow new laws because they don’t follow the old ones.

It’s plain old common sense, but as Voltaire noted long ago, “Common sense is not so common.”