Mariotti-Angeli Receipt

Miners Hall Museum

6 days ago

Great story which is a part of our Second Quarterly Exhibit, “Little Balkans Coal Camps - Weir”, hosted by David Wallace.The exhibit runs through September 26, 2020. This riveting story was transcribed by David Wallace from the 1892 Philadelphia Inquirer.

"The newest of the new women has at last been found."
The wickedest woman in America.
She lives in Missouri and now she will go to jail to be punished for some of her crimes and to be prevented from doing others which she possibly had already pre-conceived.
She has for years had a great reputation as “a bad man.” And it is known that she is without doubt the bravest female highway robber that has lived in at least a century. It is thought that she is, also, as brave as any highwayman should be expected to be.
The name of this most wonderful woman is Cora Hubbard. Although she has for several years been known as “The Kid.” She is only twenty-five years of age. and yet the story of her life for the last five years would make an interesting and thrilling book of hundreds of pages. The thing is that Cora will probably never give the details for the story, and those who have tried to follow her movements for that length of time have been unable to tell exactly what she has been doing.
It is known that she has been at the head of a lawless gang of outlaws and cut-throats, that she has been connected with enough highway robberies to send her to jail for a hundred years if evidence can be secured to convict her, and it is thought that on her hands is the life blood of several human beings, with a possibility that list of persons who have been killed by her and at her orders would foot up at least a full score, which is saying a good deal for a female highway robber these days, when even the innermost portions of the States are supposed to be under the control of the Federal government.
It was about two weeks ago that Cora and her gang, a body of outlaws which has for years been known as the Dalton gang, made their appearance in the town of Pineville, Missouri. a town which boasts of a small bank, which does the financial business for a large territory and which was consequently supposed to have a great deal of cash on hand.
Cora is, when she is at home, a passable girl, although the hard life she has led has left its traces in her countenance. She is only five feet and two inches in height, rather stout, very active and with a searching eye. She wears her hair cut short, and when “on duty” that is, when about to commit a murder or some financial depredation, wears man’s attire. Her home is at Weir City, Kansas, and she sometimes goes there to visit her father and mother, whom she regularly supplies with money on which they live an idle life. The mother and father know of her evil life, but they say they do not care so long as she keeps the financial end of their establishment in running order.
On this day, when the gang descended upon the Pineville Bank, Cora Hubbard had discarded her female attire and appeared on horseback in the clothes of the regulation cowboy. She carried a repeating rifle over the pommel off her saddle, the belt around her waist contained two revolvers and one Bowie knife, and when she dismounted from her horse in the main street of Pineville there was nothing about her appearance or behavior to indicate that she was anything more or less than one of the members of the gang which has terrorized portions of the State continually for nearly five years.
Cora sprang upon the steps leading to the front door of the bank, got her self-cocking rifle into position and among the score of persons who saw her standing there and who knew full well that the bank was being robbed not one made a motion which might be construed as an intimation that they bore her or any of the gang any ill will.
They knew all too well that they might be instantly shot, and they further knew that even should they escape death then and there it would come sooner or later, for up to date no man has ever interfered with the gang and lived more than three months afterward. Their revenge is swift and sure. There the brave and terrible woman stood while her companions in crime went inside the building and spent ten minutes in getting what cash they could.
Finally, the others came out with their booty and away they rode firing their revolvers as a salute to the town as they quickly got out of the way for they knew it would be only a short time before man hunters would be on their track. Sure enough, they had not gone more than a few miles before a vigilance committee from Pineville was in their wake. This committee did get within gunshot of the robbers and fired forty odd shots at them. They wounded one of the robbers, who fell from his horse and was afterwards captured.
During the firing and about the time the robber was shot, one of the committee shot Cora’s horse, and the beast and its rider went to the earth with a thump. The vigilantes thought they had her at last but before they could reach the spot the girl in the clothing of a cowboy had mounted the riderless horse of the wounded robber and was on her way, turning in her saddle every minute to let loose a few bullets with the evident intention of killing one or more of her pursuers. Had she used her rifle the results might have been different, but she did not and was out of pistol range.
The last they saw of the girl was when she was just entering a rocky place where she would soon be hidden by the trees. The girl turned in her saddle and fired six rapid shots from her revolver, shots ring defiance to the people who believe in law and order.
But they were not to escape so casually, and a few days later Cora Hubbard was captured. She did not show fight for there were too many officers on hand for anything of that kind and she was found with her parents in their Kansas home. She simply saw that resistance was useless and gave in, but it is in evidence that of all those there she was the calmest. She smiled a kind of sorrowful smile, bade her parents good-day and crossed the Missouri border without the slightest hesitation. That is the reason she is now in jail at Pineville, where two others, who had been connected with the robbery, are also behind secure iron bars.
When the girl was caught by the officers, she wore a calico Mother Hubbard dress and seemed to feel just about as sweet as any girl no prettier than she could be. She is fairly well educated, but it is in shooting that she excels. It is said that she can outshoot any of the members of her gang, and that two years ago she got into a controversy with one of them. Finally, the man with whom she was quarreling called her a few vile names and wound up by calling her a liar. He knew that when he accused her of lying there would be trouble, and consequently the instant the word left his lips he drew his revolver. But it happened that he was not quick enough, for before he could “get a bead” on the girl who had also pulled a gun the man dropped in his tracks with a bullet through his heart and never moved a muscle afterwards. Then Cora ordered two of the other men to carry the body away and dump it over into a ravine. This was done, and when the men returned she insisted on giving them some instructions on the drawing of a gun, for she said she did not want it said that any of her friends could not get in the first shot and that the first shot always tells the story, if the one who does the shooting knows how to shoot. After Cora had showed them just how they should pull their guns and the proper time she said that in order to avoid any more trouble she would give any and all of them a chance to show that they were “better men” than she. None of them cared to encounter her bullets and the affair ended peaceably for all except the man whose body had been tossed over into the ravine.
In spite of the fact that Cora Hubbard is probably the worst and wickedest woman on this part of the globe she has never been known to drink any kind of intoxicating liquids, but when the gang makes a successful raid and she can get her hands on some good cigars she takes her choice of the weeds and smokes to her heart’s content.
It is not known when her trial is to come off, for the authorities are after the other outlaws. Neither is it known what sentence will be imposed on her for no one can tell just how much the prosecution may be able to prove. The people of Pineville are afraid that before the trial comes off her friends may make an attempt to rescue her and as the jail is constantly guarded there is bound to be trouble if anything of that kind is attempted.
In conversation Cora Hubbard is apt, and she has received a common school education, uses correct English for the most part and speaks in a clear tone. When she wishes to be emphatic she intersperses her sentences with an expressive “damn” or “damned” in a way that gives the impression that any old time she pleases she could fire a volley of oaths that would make the most profane desperado look to his laurels. She writes will.
Cora is, indeed, a complex and many-sided character. She comes of a family that for the most part has gone to the bad. Her brothers have been rough and wild, and the greatest virtue of them in their eyes has been dare-devil bravery, and Cora has probably followed along the same lines as nearly as a woman could and has developed into the most wonderful new woman of the criminal type that the West has yet produced.
When again asked to talk of the bank robbery, she replied: “Yes, I’ll tell you all about it, but I guess I had better tell you something about my early life first.”
“I was born in Madison County, Ohio. My father is Samuel Hubbard who is part Cherokee Indian. My mother died when I was one year old. And my father moved to Spring Hill, Kan. I went to school there eight years. I liked reading better than anything else, and I used to read wild West novels by the dozens when the teacher was not looking. I read the history of the James boys through twice. My brothers read them, and I did whatever they did. I was an expert shot.”
“I was married when I was 15 years old to Joseph Russell and lived with him seven months. He was not a bit of count, too ornery. Then I came to Pittsburg and sold whiskey. I stayed there five months.”
“Then I got a divorce and went to Vinita and stayed with an Indian woman. I am about one-eighth Cherokee. I was acquainted with the Daltons, but I never ran with them. I never was with them on a raid. I heard a good deal about them and their ways. They were nice men, open-handed and free-hearted. I used to meet them at dances. To tell the truth, Bob Dalton used to be a sweetheart of mine. We used to go together, but I never went in any raids with him. He visited me and took me to the dances.”
“The only robber crowd I ever trained with was with Sheets. I don’t know how long I have been in the Territory-about five or six years. I married again down there to a racehorse man named Russell. I got a divorce from him. I haven’t married anymore; it’s too much trouble.”
“Then I took up with Sheets in the Territory when I was living at Verdigris, where we organized a gang to rob, and we got Jack, who is a Tennison, and he would do most anything. Our first robbing was at Altamont Kan. My brother said we could get $50,000 by robbing the bank at Pineville. He planned it and we came to Pineville about three months ago and lived about three miles from town. The night before the robbery we hovered close to the town, and the next morning we rode up from the station to the bank and kept guard while John and Jack robbed the bank.”
“There wasn’t a man on that street that would have dared to enter that door. Why I could have held up that little town all by myself if I had wanted to. When the men in the street became excited, I pointed my revolver and said: ‘Any man that tries to cross that door dies!’
The safe door was unlocked, and they took out $500. Then we mounted and made for Noel, and the posse caught up with us and began shooting. Bill joined us out of Pineville. We returned fire. I shot more than forty shots. They shot John Sheets horse from under him and his revolver out of his hand. He got his revolver again and we shot back thick and fast.”
“Then they shot my horse from under me and my revolver out of my hand. My Winchester was strapped to my saddle, and I went right after it while they were shooting. I got my Winchester quick and began firing it. I wanted to go back and fight them, but John wouldn’t do it. That was his way. He didn’t want to kill anybody, and never did kill anybody. I guess we scared them. Then we took to the woods and escaped and got horses and went to my home at Weir City.”
“Jack left us eighteen miles southwest of Weir City. My brother gave the whole thing away. I’ll show him when I get hold of him.”
“When the officers came to Weir City I had just got home and was getting ready to go to sleep, and I didn’t have on nothing but my tea gown and underclothes. They didn’t give me time to dress. Marshal Hatton is a shore coward. He brought about twenty-five men armed with revolvers and Winchesters. He said, ‘—you hold up your hands or I will kill you.’ I never throwed up my hands; I stood and laughed. Then the fellows formed around the house and they walked me out in the street and didn’t give me time to dress.”
“I dress as neat as anybody, and I got just as nice clothes.”
“What do you call having a fine time?”
“Having good cloths, getting anything and everything you want and to be with somebody that you think lots of. If we had got plenty of money, we intended to settle down and not rob anymore.”
“Intend to buy a farm?”
“----- a farm, I like town better. I was raised in town, but my father had a farm, too. He was worth nearly $50,000 over five years ago, but he dropped it on account of the boys fighting and getting them out of trouble. They was always trying to kill somebody. I wouldn’t let my youngest brother come on this raid. He has never been in any meanness.”
“How did you become a robber?”
“Well, I used to meet them at dances and houses, and I liked their ways.”
“When did you first dress as a man?”
“At Altamont, and I liked it pretty----easy. I made a pretty good-looking man. I got Bob Dalton’s gun in Chetopa. I bought it from some fellow. I knew the gun, and I haven’t had it over three months. It hasn’t the same handles it had, and it has been cut down some, as it was a twelve-inch bar.” Cora knew the history of the gun but did not care to tell it.
“I never wear men’s clothes, except when I go out on a raid. I like nice clothes as well as any woman. When I get out, I think I will go back to teaching painting.”
“Teaching what kind of painting?”
“Why, I mean painting pictures with oils and brush. I used to give lessons in Pittsburg. I wish I had a picture or two of flowers I have painted. Oh, I can do most anything I----please.”
“How about your swearing, anyway, Cora?”
“Oh, I use a little byword like ‘damn’ most any time, but sometimes I have to swear a blue streak. Can’t get along without it; and then you could look out.” ... See MoreSee Less

Photo