Review by Booklist Review
On July 26, 1875, Charles Boles committed his first robbery of a Wells Fargo stagecoach in California, pulling 28 more such coach robberies over the next eight years and cementing his criminal legacy under the alias Black Bart. Boles was born in London and raised in New York. The California Gold Rush emboldened him and his brothers to try their luck out west. Spirits dampened by the loss of both brothers, Boles attempted to settle down in the Midwest but volunteered for the burgeoning Civil War instead. He served with distinction while also learning how to steal to survive. After the war, normal civilian life didn't appeal to Boles. Propelled by a gun and temerity, he set on a new path. Boessenecker (Wildcat, 2021) offers up a candid biography of a nineteenth-century desperado who flustered law enforcement and mystified the public with his politeness. The Wild West comes to life in vivid detail as Boessenecker describes each theft Boles committed, making for a fascinating account of an enigmatic criminal.
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
The real man behind a Wild West legend is revealed in this immersive chronicle from bestseller Boessenecker (Wildcat). Credited with 29 stagecoach robberies in northern California in the 1870s and '80s, Charles E. Boles, better known as "Black Bart," was born in 1829 in England and immigrated with his family to New York the following year. After failing to strike it rich in the California gold rush, he met and married Mary Elizabeth Johnson in Iowa; the couple eventually had three daughters and a son. Boles struggled to make it as a farmer, however, and after serving in the Union Army during the Civil War, he abandoned his family and headed west, drifting between Montana, Nevada, and Utah before returning to California, where he began his life of crime. Targeting Wells Fargo stagecoaches, Boles--wearing a flour sack mask and armed with a double-barreled shotgun--would politely ask the driver to throw down the strongbox and mail pouch. Twice, he left behind scraps of poetry signed "Black Bart, the Po8." Distinguished by his "gentlemanly demeanor" and disinterest in robbing passengers, Boles was a favorite of California newspapers, who helped spread the myth that he was "a sort of modern Robin Hood." Caught in 1883 after a silk handkerchief he left at the scene of a robbery was traced back to him, Boles served four years in San Quentin prison, then robbed at least three more coaches before disappearing in 1888. Scrupulously researched and smoothly written, this is an entertaining slice of Americana. Illus. (Mar.)
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Review by Kirkus Book Review
A writer with a fascination for the storied crimes of the Wild West turns to the stagecoach robber of history and lore. English-born Charles Boles had gone west seeking fortune, failed, returned to the Midwest in time to serve with distinction in the Battle of Vicksburg and Sherman's March to the Sea, and then gone west again. Somewhere along the way, he decided it was less strenuous work to hold up stages, and so he did. As Boessenecker recounts, an early exploit was a robbery of a stagecoach on the twisty seaside road near Mendocino, California, where, according to some passengers, he told the driver, politely, "Please throw out the box and the mail bags." Boles later left a taunting poem directed at Wells Fargo, the owner of the loot. The politeness and witty literacy--he had excelled in childhood in "reading, writing, and penmanship" as well as Bible study--of the unknown robber offered the local press a field day in recounting tales of the "gentleman bandit," aka Black Bart. The outline of Boles' career is well known. However, as Boessenecker observes, it's so shot through with legend, courtesy of inventive journalists, that much of it is just plain wrong. The author helpfully corrects many of the myths--e.g., that a supposed run-in with a nefarious Wells Fargo agent had sent Boles careening off into a life of vengeful crime, when there's no evidence to support the assertion. While serving up a lively account of Black Bart's career, Boessenecker does the math to conclude that Boles committed 32 holdups--three, daringly, after he'd done time in San Quentin for the previous 29. Following that last blast, Boles disappeared in the late 1880s, never to be seen again, conjectured to be working mine claims in Mexico or ranching in Arizona. As Boessenecker concludes, "the fate of Black Bart, the poet highwayman, remains one of the great mysteries of the Wild West." An entertaining, well-researched foray into the life of a well-known but legend-layered outlaw. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
