Dallas Stoudenmire: Masonic Gunfighter by Joseph E. Bennett, MPS (Reprinted by permission of The Philalethes - December, 1988) The history of Texas is awash with the names of Freemasons who made important contributions to the development of that great state. From the days of 1821 when Stephen F. Austin became a factor in Texas history, through the trauma of the Alamo defense, and spanning the Civil War years. Masons were there and were part of it all. The great Texas Ranger organization boasts its own particular history of great Masons. These are the kind of men we like to think of as shining examples of our esteemed craft. Their lives and deeds reflect great credit to our fraternity. One Texas Mason was somewhat different from the normal concept we hold for members of our fraternity. His name was Dallas Stoudenmire, and he played an important, if violent, role in the transition of the town of El Paso from a sleepy border hamlet to an important frontier crossroads of the old southwest. In 1881, El Paso was in the throes of a turbulent development brought about by a number of factors. During this year, the railroad was to reach the town and forever mark it as an important commercial location. The veneer of civilization had barely reached El Paso in 1881. So far west, she was the last place in the Lone Star State to enjoy the refinements of civilization. The recovering Texas Government, emerging from the confines of the detested Reconstruction following the Civil War, had been able to address the problem of protecting settlers and immigrants on their movement westward. The Indian problems, unchecked during the Civil War, had been at last brought under control by the United States Army and the Rangers. In 1881, El Paso was on the outer fringes of law and order, the last resort for those who harbored a distaste for the restraints of legal authority. A horde of humanity had been pouring into El Paso for over a year. In anticipation of great business opportunities, countless speculators and would-be entrepreneurs flocked to the town. Hustlers, gamblers, drunks, prostitutes, and every imaginable variety of lawbreaker rounded out the new populace of El Paso. Mayor Solomon Schutz, the Master of El Paso Lodge No. 130, along with the members of his city council, wrestled with the problems of this exploding community. Not the least of their headaches was finding a permanent solution to law and order in El Paso. A number of local appointments to the office of city marshal were dismal affairs. Obviously, the city fathers had to look elsewhere for a lawman. In April, 1881, a young Alabama Civil War veteran of German ancestry, Dallas Stoudenmire, had been selected by the El Paso city government to fill the position of marshal. He was a gunfighter of considerable reknown. A young personable man in his mid-thirties, he was a striking figure. His jutting jaw and six foot two frame, in conjunction with his black frock coat and prominent frontier colts, were an imposing advertisement of his profession. Stoudenmire had served briefly as a Texas Ranger. He had served with General Joseph Johnston in the Civil War and had been paroled in April, 1865, following the end of hostilities. Dallas had drifted west after the war, and finally settled in Columbus County, Texas, not far from Houston. During the years following the war, he had acquired a reputation as a fighter and was known to have been involved in numerous incidents; some on the thin edge of the law. His reputation as a gunfighter, and his accuracy with the six-gun, was a natural outgrowth of his turbulent lifestyle. There is reason to believe Stoudenmire had a short tenure in Mexico in a Confederate colony during the days of Maximillan. His early history is sparse, lacking details of his activity for long periods of time. Dallas Stoudenmire had been marshal of El Paso for about a week when he was involved in one of the most famous gunfights on historic record. Three local characters were embroiled in an argument over a coroner's inquest in the center of the town's main thoroughfare, El Paso Street. Words shortly led to gunfire as the only solution to the argument. When the shooting started, Dallas was enjoying a late breakfast in a nearby restaurant. At the first shot, he leaped to the door of the restaurant, drawing his pistols, and he ran. A local citizen. Gus Krempkau, one of the antagonists, was already shot and down. Seeing the remaining two combatants with sixshooters out, Stoudenmire opened fire. His first casualty was a Mexican bystander who had the ill fortune to race across Dallas' line of fire. He fell dead. Undeterred, Stoudenmire coolly shot John Hale and George Campbell, the remaining contestants. The fight was abruptly over. In less than a minute, three men had died under Stoudenmire's guns and Krempkau had been killed by John Hale. The violent entry of Dallas Stoudenmire on the El Paso law and order front had a most sobering effect on the unruly element. An unaccustomed calm prevailed in the lusty border town. Another week passed before Marshal Stoudenmire was to be tested again. This time his trial was to come at the hands of a former assistant marshal. He was Bill Johnson, the town drunk, and a pathetic dupe of the tough saloon element of El Paso. They had cajoled the dull-witted Johnson into attempting an ambush on Dallas Stoudenmire. About 10:00 p.m., on Sunday, April 17, 1881, the marshal was just starting out on his accustomed rounds of the town. With Stoudenmire was his brother-in-law and stout supporter, Samuel "Doc" Cummings. Bill Johnson had climbed atop a pile of bricks at the intersection of El Paso and San Antonio Streets. Here he sat with a shotgun in his lap, awaiting the moment Dallas would get in range. Johnson was more than a little drunk. Too, the fierce reputation of Marshal Stoudenmire was unnerving. These two considerations led Johnson to fire prematurely and the shotgun blast went over Dallas' head. Instantly Stoudenmire and Cummings shipped out their weapons and poured eight rounds into the sodden Johnson, killing him instantly. As Johnson fell, gunfire roared from the darkened entrance of a saloon across the street, Stoudenmire charge the saloon without hesitation. His fearless and unexpected reaction erased any thought of further conflict, and his unseen attackers melted into the dark night. Dallas Stoudenmire had proved that he was equal to the task of bringing order to El Paso. The spring melted into a typical hot El Paso summer. The affairs of the new marshal were progressing smoothly. He held the lawless element under an iron grip and peace ruled supreme in the bustling town. Dallas even had a little time to think about his personal affairs. In October, he submitted his petition to El Paso Lodge No. 130. Desiring Masonic membership, he had plenty of fraternity members who would recommend him. Stoudenmire's petition, written in his own hand, is an important part of the present-day El Paso Lodge archives. The record shows that he received his Fellowcraft Degree in November of 1881, following the October conferral of the Entered Apprentice, and finally was raised on January 7, 1882. The membership of El Paso Lodge at that time was 22. Present for Dallas' raising were eleven members and eleven visitors. He was a member of El Paso Lodge, duly entitled to all its privileges. Dallas took a bride in February, 1882. He returned to Columbus County and took the vows with Isabella Sherrington. Life should have been complete for Marshal Stoudenmire, but nagging concerns clouded his promising future. Dallas had always been a hard drinker. More than that, he was a known visitor to the brothels that abounded in El Paso. Neither of these undesirable characteristics enhanced his Masonic character, let alone his image to the gentry of the El Paso community. Alcohol, particularly, had a deteriorating effect on his personality. He was argumentative and surly most of the time. Now, the specter of a possible assassin, striking from a darkened doorway or a lonely alley, obsessed his waking thoughts. This speculation accelerated his consumption of alcohol, and with it, his personality soured rapidly. It wasn't long before he was so difficult to associate with that it was obvious to the mayor and council that Stoudenmire must go. Finally, in May of 1882, a special meeting of the city council was convened to dismiss Marshal Stoudenmire. Of course, Dallas was summoned to attend. History relates that the members of the council sat on the open window sills, ostensively to seek relief from the oppressive heat. Needless to say, the windows offered immediate exits in case Stoudenmire would become unruly at the unwelcome tidings. Dallas did not disappoint anyone. He showed up at the meeting very drunk. He cursed the entire council, which included Judge Joseph Magoffin, a fellow member of El Paso Lodge. He threatened to "straddle them all." Stoudenmire's demeanor was so fearful, the council meeting ended without transacting any business. When soberness returned, Dallas Stoudenmire knew he had overstepped even his considerable limits. He shortly penned a letter of resignation to the mayor and council and extended apologies "if he had offended anyone." With great relief, the council unanimously accepted the resignation and appointed Dallas' deputy marshal, James B. Gillett to fill the vacancy. Gillett, a famous Texas Ranger, who later became a member of Marfa, Texas, Lodge No. 596, wrote in his book, "Six Years With the Texas Rangers," of his admiration for Stoudenmire. James Gillett maintained that Dallas' anxiety over a possible ambush was a principal cause of his drinking. Stoudenmire stayed in law enforcement. He received a commission as a Deputy United States Marshal, with headquarters in El Paso. For a few months, he seemed to be making amends in his lifestyle. History was to dictate otherwise. On September 17, 1882, Stoudenmire returned to El Paso from a short business trip. He was intoxicated when he alighted from the train. Without delay, he revisited the saloons along El Paso Street, allegedly searching for a fugitive for whom he held a warrant. He continued to down drink after drink as he wandered through town. His old enemies were watching him closely. Some of the most bitter were the Manning brothers. This trio had an old score with Dallas, and now they were told he was looking for them, with six-gun ready. The Mannings were fighters and far from cowardly. All of El Paso knew that a confrontation was imminent. They were right. Dallas awoke sober on the morning of September 18, 1882. He directly corrected that unintentional condition. By mid morning he was drunk. Dallas headed for the Acme Saloon and his date with destiny. On entering the Acme, he accosted Felix "Doc" Manning and engaged him in a heated conversation. Accusations degenerated into action and both drew their weapons. At that moment, a bystander, perhaps in an attempt to forestall a gunfight, had pushed between Doc Manning and Stoudenmire. Stoudenmire was prevented from drawing his pistol momentarily. The delay gave Doc Manning the edge and his first shot ripped into Dallas' chest. He was blown through the doors of the saloon to the street. Stoudenmire had dropped his pistol when he was hit; but lying in the street, he was able to draw his "belly gun" and fire. His shot struck Doc Manning in the right arm, crippling him for life. The panicky Manning jumped atop the prostrate Stoudenmire in an effort to pin his arms and prevent another shot. Jim Manning, Doc's brother, now joined the fray. He approached the struggling pair and got off one shot. He missed. Stepping closer, Jim Manning pumped a second shot at point-blank range into Dallas Stoudenmire's head. The ex-marshal died instantly. Isabella Sherrington Stoudenmire, Dallas's wife, wished to have the remains returned to Columbus County for burial. She was without funds and turned to El Paso Lodge for assistance. The records of El Paso Lodge No. 130 are extensive and complete on the details that followed. The body of member Dallas Stoudenmire was washed, embalmed and prepared for burial. The remains of the famous marshal laid in state in the El Paso Lodge room until 6:00 p.m. on September 18th, in order that all his friends might pay their final respects. The body was then placed on a train and conveyed to Columbus County for burial in the Alleyton Cemetery. Caldonia Lodge No. 68, A.F. & A.M. performed memorial services on September 23, 1882. Invoices on record in El Paso Lodge indicate that for their considerable services, they paid out the sum of $28.05. El Paso was quiet now. The man who single-handedly had brought the law and order to this volatile town was history. That history records him as only a gunfighter, and a drunken one to boot. No movies or exciting novels have been written of his life and times. Only Leon Claire Metz, the renowned western author, has seen fit to write about this old-time Texan. The records of El Paso Lodge, though, are intact and complete. Personally, I wonder if the author of the familiar funeral lines we use so much at Masonic memorial services had Dallas Stoudenmire in mind when he wrote them: "Let us cast around his foibles the broad mantle of a Mason's charity, And let us withold from his memory no just commendation; For the history of mankind teaches us that the best of men may err, and the wisest go astray." True, Dallas Stoudenmire lacked many of the attributes we all desire in a Mason. Many of his personal habits were reprehensible, and reflected poorly on the fraternity. To his credit, he was scrupulously honest, sincere and industrious, loyal to his friends, and totally fearless. No criticism exists in the official record of any of his actions, even though they were publicly known. One may be prompted to ask the question, why wasn't some corrective action taken to call this man to Masonic account for his transgressions? We cannot answer that. We weren't there, and we do not know what the feelings were in that pioneer lodge in 1882. This writer certainly would not presume to make a judgment, not knowing the circumstances that controlled actions at that time. The facts are a matter of record. One indisputable fact remains. Dallas Stoudenmire was a Mason until the day he died. He did not make the same impact on history that Sam Huston, Davy Crockett, Kit Carson and many others may have, but he was part of Texas history just the same. That's a fact.