Second in a Series: Harry Wheeler of the Rangers

CAVALCADE HARRY WHEELER OF THE ARIZONA RANGERS

In the closing years of the 1800s, lawlessness was rife across the vast Arizona Territory. By the turn of the century, the need for a special force of lawmen had become clear to the legislature. On March 21, 1901, the Twenty-first Legislative Assembly approved the creation of the Arizona Rangers.

Many dedicated men served with the Rangers, but one stands out because of his heroic confrontations with the desperadoes of infant Arizona. His name was Harry Wheeler.

It was Sunday evening, October 23, 1904. Tucson was wide open. Every other building downtown was a dance hall or saloon, and money was changing hands at the gaming tables in all of them.

Late that evening, Joe Bostwick, a shabby-looking stranger in overalls and a long faded coat, was determined to test Lady Luck in a game he thought he couldn't lose. At the back entrance of the Palace Saloon at 24 West Con gress, Bostwick tied a red bandanna prepared with eye holes across his face, cocked his long-barreled .45, and eased into the building.

The menacing figure emerged into the smoke-veiled light near the gambling tables. One man in the room, M. D. Beede, caught the glint of the revolver in Bostwick's fist and bolted out the front door as the robber shouted "Hands up!"

Beede raced from the saloon, blurting the news along Congress Street that an armed robbery was in progress. At At that moment, Sergeant Harry Wheeler stepped onto the street after his evening meal at Wanda's Restaurant. Wheeler encountered Beede, heard his report, and turned toward the Palace.

Back at the saloon, Bostwick's nerves must have been tight, for he'd surely noticed Beede when he lunged out the door. But he felt he still had time. He edged toward the craps table where money waited by the dice.

Abruptly, Harry Wheeler appeared at the front door. Bostwick swung to fire. But Wheeler's single-action Colt reported first, creasing the robber's forehead. Bostwick returned fire, but his bullet strayed. Then Wheeler squarely placed his second shot. The Ranger's heavy .45 slug ripped through the right side of Bostwick's chest.

A fourth shot was fired by Bostwick's accomplice, a lookout man stationed across the street. But the bullet, meant for Wheeler's back, imbedded itself harmlessly in the leg of a roulette table.

The accomplice escaped, but Bostwick died in the local hospital the following Tuesday.

The Bostwick shoot-out was only one of Wheeler's deadly encounters. The Ranger went on to face the guns of other robbers, murderers, and rustlers in classic man to-man duels.

Today we often think of the "good guy" with the star and the white horse as a movie myth. But Harry Wheeler reminds us that such men were real.