Chapter 5 – Interviews and Supper

May 1, 1883

I thought we looked very smart as we made our way down to the dining room that evening. Cora Sue, with her strawberry blond hair and green eyes, was wearing her new blouse, which was in pale yellow ecru lace. I thought the neckline was particularly pretty – being rounded, and the sheer blouses had what looked like tiny flowers all over it, with a secondary layer over the shoulders to almost look like a cape – but in the same fabric. She wore it with her mauve brocade skirt with the double pleat in the front.

My new blouse, which is cream colored, has a high neck with broomstick pleats in the voile with satin ribbon & lace trimming in a sort of V across the front and back, again almost making it look like a cape, and pearl closures I wore my black taffeta skirt, which is made in panels, giving it a lovely flowing look. With my dark eyes and hair, I made quite a contrast to delicate Cora Sue, but I knew, as soon as we entered the room, that all the eyes turned to us were approving.

Cora Sue took the seat which had been kept free next to Buffalo Bill, and he stood up and helped her into it. Rather than sitting on the other side of him, I indicated that I wished to sit next to Captain Bogardus – and he seemed very pleased by this change in plan. He also stood and helped me into my seat.

“How much we enjoyed the show,” I started out with. “Your shooing ability, Captain Bogardus is unbelievable. How did you ever get to be that good?”

“Been shooting all my life, ma'am.”

“Oh, please calle me Mattie. Everyone does. My real name is Martha, but I prefer Mattie.”

“And you better call me Adam, although most people call me Captain,” he said, blushing.

Cora Sue said she was frightened of him because he was so big – and he certainly was big. He must have measured well over six feet tall and weighted about 250 lbs, with muscles bulging in his arms that attested to his strenth in places other than his trigger finger.

“Do you come from these parts, Adam?”

“No, Ma-am, I mean, Mattie. I come from New York originally, but  the folks moved to Illinois when I was 20. But I was a good shot before that. Back in Albany, I started shooting a Brown Bess – that's a musket – when I was fifteen, and I was the best hunter in the area, if I do say so myself.”

“So, where abouts in Illinois did you settle?”

“A little town called Petersbury but it didn't suit me – too quiet – so I moved to Elkhart, Indiana, where there was more game around.”

“But you didn't make your livelihood just by hunting, surely.”

“No, Mattie. I am a trained carpenter, but I can tell you for a fact that I have made much more money from shooting than any carpenter could.”

“How did you become a Captain, Adam? Were you in the war?”

“In 1863, as General Robert Lee moved his army of Northern Virginia closer to Washington, I became concerned that the Union was losing the war, so I recruited a volunteer company of Elkhart soldiers and was named their captain. I did two 90-day enlistments and returned home for more pressing obligations, namely getting married and having a family.”

“Do you have children Adam?”

“Yes, Ma'am, I mean Mattie. We have thirteen all together.”

“My goodness. And when you got back to Elkhart and to having all those children, were you a carpenter or a hunter?”

“I couldn’t make enough carpentering around Elkhart so started to earn my living by hunting. Chicago had an eager taste for wild game, and I could get from five to 25 cents for birds. My daughters complained and one said you couldn't move for the dead meat.The back porch of our home was always piled high with game - pinnated grouse, ducks, turkey, quail and snipe - all waiting for shipment."

“When did you start shooting in tournaments?”

“Those were the days of the great live pigeon tournaments. Local matches were held in nearly every village, county matches were numerous, and once every summer the states held their championships. A good shooter could earn thousands of dollars a year.”

“And you won them all.”

“Near enough. But it is interesting how I got into pigeon shooting. A fellow from Detroit named Cough Stanton got boasting one day about just how good he really was. One of my friends heard him and told Stanton there was a shooter around Elkhart who was just as good as he was so he challenged him.When he told me about it, I wasn’t so happy. I had never shot a trapped pigeon or even seen a pigeon trap in my life, and I wasn’t eager to shoot against a man I had never met.”

“But you did it.”

“A week or so later, the one train a day through Elkhart delivered Mr. Stanton, looking to collect "some of that easy money."

The match was set up with the usual rule: gun down, distance 21 yards, 50 birds and a stake of $200. Two hundred dollars was a fair amount when you earned it by shooting game at about 15 cents a head, and I was nervous I might lose the money.But luckily he was nervous too, and I beat him 46-40. So that started my new career.”

“Did lots of people come to try to beat you?”

“I often had several matches within a week. Three brothers from Illinois named Kleinman gave me plenty of tough competition. Abraham was the best and champion of Illinois. He agreed to meet me at Elkhart for a 50-bird match, $200 to the winner. I bet him I would drop at least 46 of the 50 birds and an additional $200 was wagered.”

“Did you win?”

“I won my bet but lost the match. I killed 46, Kleinman 49. A month later I challenged him again for the Championship of Illinois. The match was to be held in Chicago for $200 and the right to wear the state championship badge. We agreed to shoot at 100 birds, 50 singles and 25 pair of doubles. The singles were to be released from a normal ground collapsible trap, the doubles from a slung trap that pushed the birds into the air.”

“So this would have had everybody watching, with it being for the State Championship.”

"An estimated crowd of some 2,000 gathered at Dexter Park and lots of newspapermen. The match was close, very close. In singles, I won by a bird, 43 to 42. Each of us dropped 43 of the doubles, giving me the state championship title by a single bird.”

“After you defeated him, you were quite famous, I expect.”

“I became a full-fledged professional and began traveling the country competing in all the big tournaments. Generally, minor challenges were conducted as side bets during the course of a normal race with up to $2,000 to the winner. I won the great majority of the time but after awhile I experienced difficulty finding competition. No one wanted to take me on. So I decided to get the Chicago Tribune to help me out and in September, 1869, printed the following challenge:

"I hereby challenge any man in America to shoot a pigeon match, 50 single, and 50 double rises for from $500 to $5,000 a side, according to the rules of the New York Sportsmen’s Association. I to use my breech-loading shotgun, my opponent to use any breech-loading gun of any manufacturer he may choose. The match to be shot in Chicago. Man and money ready at my place of business, No. 72 Madison St., Chicago. A. H. Bogardus."

“Did you get many takers?”

“Enough to keep my family fed. And I kept trying for new stunts to keep the newspapers interest up. For instance I challenged Kleinman with me shooting from a buggy with a horse at full trot. Singles and doubles birds were released at 21 yards. Kleinman shot from 25 yards in a stationary stop. I won. I could go on and on telling you about stuff like that, but here I am talking about myself all the time. Tell me about yourself.”

“I'd much rather talk aboaut you. I am just an ordinary teacher, or will be in the fall. Did you ever get really hurt?”

"About ten years ago, I had an accident that almost cost me my life. I was hunting prairie chicken from a buggy, and the weather was cold. The birds were wild, and the gun lay across my knees with both hammers cocked. As I stooped to draw a lap robe over my legs, a rear wheel hit a rut, the gun canted, hit the other wheel, and a hammer fell. Five drains of black powder drove an ounce and a half of No. 9 shot through my thigh. Fortunately, most of the shot missed the bone, but I was bedridden for four months and never walked well again. You probably noticed my limp.”

“It sure doesn't seem to have slowed you down.”

“Well, about this same time, we had another problem. It was the growing sentiment against the use of live birds in shooting matches. Humane societies were stirred up; women’s organizations were on the rampage. Laws were finally passed in most states prohibiting the use of live birds for any kind of trapshooting. So I was out of work.

"But before long we started shooting glass balls with feathers in. They were hurled in the air by a contraption called a sling device, but they only went about 30 yfeet or so.”

“So you got some new matches then, did you?”

“First I developed a lighter ball, and came up with a stronger trap, and then I sold them, giving me another string to my bow, so to speak. To promote my new products, I went to New York and at Madison Square Garden and put on two strenuous matches against time. In March of 1877, I agreed to break 1,000 balls in two hours and 40 minutes, and did it with an hour to spare. So I had lots of well publicised chaallenges after that, and most of them I won.”

“How did you get to meet Buffalo Bill?”

“It was Doc Craven who I shot against that introduced us. He was in the show today too.  About three years ago, they introduced the flat clay targets which scale, spin, and rise, behaving very much like a bird. Ligowsky, the inventor,  immediately hired me and Doc Carver at $2,500 each to tour the country and introduce his new "birds" to shooters. But, now that I'm 50, I decided to retire from competitive shooting and I purchased part ownership in the Bill's Show. We shall have to see how it all pans out.”

“What do your wife and kids think about all this?”

“Oh, I get them in on the act, with four of them, Eugene, whose 18 was an expert by the time he was 11. When I went to England in 1878, he came with me and shot his first match with a gentleman at Woowich Gardens, London. He won the Boy's Champion Medal with his .44 Winchester.

Then there's Edward, who's11, and he has been shooting for a year or so ; and eight-year-old Adam Henry Jr. has just started, and he shoots a .32 caliber rifle, and hits glass balls out of my fingers."

The meal had finished and everyone was standing up, getting ready to leave.

“I certainly enjoyed talking to you Adam. And I wish you every bit of luck with the show. I'll certainly tell all my friends to go and see it.”

“Nice meeting you too, Mattie. And good luck with that teaching of yours. I'm sure you will make a good teacher. Look at all that talking you made me do.”

So Cora Sue, who looked as if she had accomplished her goal as well, and I made our way up to bed, eager to write up our notes before we forgot all the interesting things we had learned.