On January 31, witf will be airing two more documentaries from AMERICAN EXPERIENCE that explore some of the most controversial and mythic figures of the American West.
At 8 p.m., we'll start with Annie Oakley, the story of a five-foot, 100-pound sharpshooter who pulled herself out of the depths of poverty to become an iconic performer known the world over as a symbol of the Wild West. The film chronicles Oakley’s life from her childhood in the Midwest to her world tours with Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show. “Many people know the fictionalized story that’s been told on countless stages in Annie Get Your Gun,” says program producer Riva Freifeld. “But the real Annie was much more than a brassy cocksure babe who would do anything to get her man.”
Phoebe Anne Moses, called Annie, first picked up a gun in 1875 at age 15 not to become a superstar, but to save her family from destitution. Annie taught herself to shoot and took to the woods of Greenville, Ohio, to hunt quail, which she could sell at the general store. “She was a market hunter, and turning a very nice profit,” says Mary Zeiss Stange, a professor of women’s studies. “Certainly not something that was at all appropriate for a woman to be doing in that time and place.” Thanks to her prowess with a shotgun, Annie was able to become the primary breadwinner in the house and to pay off the mortgage on the family farm.
Annie was soon noticed by Frank Butler, who was making a name for himself on the variety stage. On a trip through Ohio, Butler boasted that he could outshoot anyone around. But the teenaged girl from Greenville didn’t just outshoot the rising star, she won Butler’s heart. They married and toured the world as Butler and Oakley — the stage name that Annie adopted.
As Annie Oakley, she dazzled crowds around the world, first on the variety circuit, then with the circus and eventually with Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show. Annie amazed her audiences by splitting playing cards in two, hitting countless moving targets, even once shooting a cigarette out of Prince Wilhelm of Prussia’s mouth at 30 paces. She could shoot with her left hand, her right hand, upside down and sideways. “She was this really remarkable shot,” says historian Elliott West. “But what makes her especially interesting is that she was able to combine that with an image of American womanhood that was provocative, but that many people felt comfortable with.”
Annie found herself caught between the demure expectations of the Victorian age, and the lasciviousness that typified women on the stage. She made all of her own costumes in order to maintain an air of respectability. Her modest long-sleeved tops and skirts set her apart from other female performers.
In 1885, Annie entertained crowds in 40 cities across America. By 1895, that number grew to more than 130 cities around the world. She was a star at the Paris Exposition in 1889 and shone again in 1893 when Buffalo Bill set up shop just outside of Chicago’s Columbian Exposition. The girl from Ohio had become a living symbol of the Wild West — a place that was fast disappearing.
But in true celebrity style, the end of Annie’s career was plagued with scandal. Erroneous stories of Annie stealing to pay for cocaine hit the papers in 1903, when Annie was 43 years old. She spent six years ensnared in legal battles trying to clear her name. “She had fought very hard to earn her own security, to have a good name, to be the kind of person that everybody would see as a role model,” says historian Virginia Scharff.
Annie would perform for just a few years more. She retired from public life in 1913, but continued working as an advocate of women’s use of firearms, teaching thousands to shoot. Hollywood and history have kept the legend of Annie Oakley alive. Her story lives on in film, television, on the stage and in history books.
Then at 9 p.m., we'll show Jesse James, the true story of an outlaw who has captured the imagination of generations of Americans. “There’s something about this legend that Americans have a hard time letting go of,” says film producer Mark Zwonitzer. “Perhaps it’s the much-needed idea of a hero or the allure of an outlaw. Either way, I hope this film will set the record straight on Jesse James.”
At age 16, Jesse James was a kid in appearance, but a warrior in spirit. Raised in a household where half the family income came from slave labor, Jesse and his brother Frank were destined to fight for the southern cause. But Missouri was a divided state and Union troops occupied much of the territory. It was common for Southern sympathizers to be lynched, have their houses burned or livestock confiscated. An eye for an eye was standard practice, and vengeance was best gotten riding with one of the dozens of groups of guerrilla fighters — better known as bushwhackers.
In the spring of 1864, when Jesse rode to war, there were no papers to sign, no brass-button uniforms, no government-issue firearms — Confederate forces had left the area. Jesse simply followed creeks and hog-trails into the darkness of the Missouri woods, where the bushwhackers made camp. Over the next year, he would be schooled in violence and terror. “Jesse and his companions, they’re not satisfied just to kill the enemy. They will go in, they’ll wade in, they’ll break skulls, they’ll slash throats. They took trophies,” explains author Fred Chiaventone in “Jesse James.” “What they set out to do was to terrorize all of their enemies and potential enemies and to dissuade people from supporting the federal cause.” They would spread word of their deeds and also of their threats, providing sensational front-page stories for local newspapers.
On September 27, 1864, James’ gang gave the Centralia, Missouri, papers something to write about. They murdered 22 unarmed Union soldiers heading home on leave and, as part of the larger guerrilla army, ambushed and butchered 150 federal soldiers.
The Confederacy surrendered the following spring, but Jesse continued to fight. The James brothers, along with about a half a dozen ex-bushwhackers, robbed banks, stagecoaches and railroads, leaving a trail of dead bodies in their wake.
But the hideous crimes of the James Gang read as something quite different in the papers. James and his cohorts penned a series of published letters and press releases, and had a strong ally in Kansas City Times writer John Newman, referred to by some as the minister of propaganda for southern rebels. James created his own fame, painting himself as a defender of southern manhood and a fighter of the establishment — the corrupt railroad corporations and banks. The legend of the victimized farm boy from Missouri who fought against northern oppressors spread far and wide, reaching New York, California, Chicago and New Mexico. Jesse himself came to believe the image he created. “All of the sudden, he’s in newspapers across the country,” historian Deb Goodrich comments in “Jesse James.” “It’s a lot easier to buy into that legend than it is to take a long, hard look at yourself.”
For nearly two decades, Jesse James, heartless thief and cold-blooded murderer, pushed ahead with his outlaw career. His gang would be reconfigured multiple times, compensating for members who were lost to death or simply to lack of interest in the outlaw lifestyle.
But Jesse never gave up the fight and never abandoned his desire for fame. And while his image as a benevolent thief won him many fans, the true story of his vicious career put a price on his head. Threats came from all sides. Tired of having their safes emptied, the railroad companies hired a detective agency to hunt down the James boys. Finally, in 1882, a $10,000 bounty was too much for fellow gang member Bob Ford to resist. He assassinated James in a fitting manner — Jesse was unarmed, and shot from behind.
