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I worked with an engineer whose grandfather rode with Pancho Villa and Pancho's surgeon (Doc Crisp) hailed from my home town. He ended up in Mexico due to a recurrence of "female" problems.

In reading about Pancho's weapons his Colt Bisley 44-40 and all handguns were called pistols. Of course it was 1911 and the Colt 1911 was just coming into Army use. Growing up all handguns were pistols so it's hard for me (and most) to get used to pistols and revolvers now being separate classes.
 

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The baby in this story is an old friend of mine's Grandfather

Interesting bit of history:

https://www.demingheadlight.com/sto...maude-wright-held-captive-villistas/80806204/

It had been a normal day on the ranch in northern Mexico where newlyweds Ed and Maude Wright had moved six years before. Near sundown, Maude was preparing supper for Ed and their friend Frank Hayden while her two-year-old son, Johnny played contentedly. Earlier in the day, the men had gone to buy supplies in Pearson, about 30 miles away. She expected them to arrive at any moment.
I didn't copy and paste the whole thing, just a teaser :D:

The original story was written in the True West magazine. My friend had the original magazine and let me read the story.

Here's another story by Skeeter Skelton, some of the older farts in here know him as one of the most prolific gun/story writers of the past

http://www.darkcanyon.net/pancho_villa.htm
 

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I love reading Skeeter Skelton.
My dad knew Skeeter by means of a mutual friend and another colorful character named W. W. "Windy" Nicklaus, my dad was a buddy of Windy's and Windy was a buddy of Skeeter's.

Skeeter was instrumental in helping the police dept in my hometown in adopting the 41 magnum revolver for service carry back in the day

Skeeter lived about 30 miles from us outside of a town called Hereford, TX. I never met the man, but I've heard many of stories about him through the years when my dad was alive and I've read all of the stories he's written at one time or another. Bart his son, is also a very good writer.
 
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Why do you ask? 2 Dogs!
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I worked with an engineer whose grandfather rode with Pancho Villa and Pancho's surgeon (Doc Crisp) hailed from my home town. He ended up in Mexico due to a recurrence of "female" problems.

In reading about Pancho's weapons his Colt Bisley 44-40 and all handguns were called pistols. Of course it was 1911 and the Colt 1911 was just coming into Army use. Growing up all handguns were pistols so it's hard for me (and most) to get used to pistols and revolvers now being separate classes.
I wonder what that pistola is worth about now? Or any of the handguns/rifles he had?



Sorry for the derail above!
 
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Discussion Starter #6
The stories and connections are what makes history interesting. Rabbit trails are often far more interesting than the OP.
 

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Fella I knew very well in my Michigan days had the Colt pistol his great-great-grandfather had carried when he rode for Judge Roy Bean. Wanted me to help him load for it, but I declined. Too rare a piece to be doing that.
 

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My cousin in OK collects guns, he probably has some that have historical value. He had to go somewhere and left me with a stack of cowboy shooter magazines to kill time with. When he returned he asked me if I saw anything interesting. I opened to a Ruger Vaquero ad and told him I liked it. He went to his gun safe and came back with a Vaquero with a Bisley hammer and some trigger re-work. I meant to go back for the big gun show and pick one up but it never happened.

My Grandfather worked for a time on the Teddy Roosevelt ranch near Deadwood, SD. Mom always had a pair of buffalo horns on the mantle but we didn't know their history at that time. Her Dad died when she was very young, she was youngest of five kids and they were raised by an uncle.
 

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So you ask me, my friend, have I met Pancho Villa?

Well let me tell you.

I was riding my horse through the desert when I saw him: Pancho Villa. From a mile away I knew him. He wore a pair of leather chaparejos on his legs. On his head he wore a sombrero big enough to stretch from Oaxaca to Aguascalientes and back. But what caught my eye most of all is what he had in his hands: the big guns, both of them pointing right at me.

Pancho Villa called out to me. "Señor!" he called out. "Come down from your horse!"

I looked him in the eye and replied, "I come down from my horse for no man."

But what could I do? What could I say? When he had the big guns. So I came down from my horse.

Then Pancho Villa said to me: "Now, señor, drop the pantalones."

I said to him, "I drop the pantalones for no man."

But what could I do? What could I say? He had the big guns. So I dropped the pantalones.

Then Pancho Villa say to me, "Now, señor, you make a poop."

I say, "I make a poop for no man." But what could I do? What could I say? He had the big guns. So I made a poop like Pancho Villa said.

Then Pancho Villa said to me, "Now, señor, you will eat your poop." I answered, "I eat my poop for no man." But what could I do? What could I say? He had the big guns. So I began to eat my poop.

Then Pancho Villa let out a very big laugh. He let out a laugh so big and so loud that he frightened his horse. The horse reared up on two legs and Pancho Villa dropped the big guns. I ran to grab them, and suddenly I was the one who had the big guns.

For a long moment, Pancho Villa and I stared at one another, saying not a word.

Then I called out to Pancho Villa. "Pancho Villa!" I called out. "You come down from your horse!"

Pancho Villa gave me a stare that was colder than the snows of Orizaba. In a voice that was slow but determined, he snarled, "I come down from my horse for no man."

But what could he do? What could he say? I had the big guns. So Pancho Villa came down from his horse.

Then I said to him, "Pancho Villa, drop the pantalones."

He gave me a menacing look and said, "I drop the pantalones for no man." But what could he do? What could he say? when I had the big guns. So he dropped his pantalones.

Then I said to Pancho Villa, "Pancho Villa, now make a poop." He said, "I make a poop for no man." But what could he do? What could he say? I had the big guns. So Pancho Villa squatted down to make a poop.

"Now, Pancho Villa," I said to him, "You eat your poop." He replied, "I eat my poop for no man." But what could he do? What could he say? I had the big guns. So Pancho Villa ate his poop.

So, my friend. You ask me, have I met Pancho Villa? Yes, one time we had lunch together.
 
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