Heroic Deed

Text by Leo W. Banks Illustrations by Kevin Kibsey Frontier gambler Felix B. Knox, a tough man who walked with a limp, became well-known in the mining towns of Globe and Clifton. He eventually ranked as Arizona Territory's unlikeliest hero.

In the spring of 1882, circumstance brought him to the York Ranch in eastern Arizona at exactly the wrong moment. A band of Apaches was rampaging through that countryside, stealing stock, routing ranchers and murdering settlers in their path.

The renegades descended on Knox as he traveled in a wagon with his wife and four others just west of York's property. Recognizing their dire situation, he grabbed a rifle and ammunition belts, and instructed his young

An Unlikely hero

Gambler Felix Knox staked his life on a long-shot bet

When Knox's wife returned to Globe, she brought her husband's felt hat the Indians had left. A bullet hole pierced the felt above the ear.

Mexican driver to turn back to the ranch while he held off the Apaches. Knox kissed his wife, jumped down from the wagon and ran for cover.

His actions that day left him naked and dead on a hillside. But he saved five lives.

How is it possible to explain such selflessness and bravery, especially from a cardsharp who hung around Army posts on payday, a man known to drop a silver dollar on how far a fellow could spit?

Perhaps the most reliable version of Knox's story comes from the late Clara Woody, an author who got her data from Globe oldtimers, many of whom knew or had heard of Knox.

She wrote of his death in her 1977 book, Globe, Arizona. Woody also left behind notes and papers containing details not included in the book, and these fill holes in Knox's background and character.

Many facts remain unknown, however, including such basics as birthplace and age. Some believe that as a young man Knox served as a drummer in the Union army, but this seems unlikely if, as others have written, he was born in Alabama.

Interestingly, though, he was a drummer in the Globe brass band. He also might have operated a cattle ranch on the upper Gila River, perhaps stocked with rustled beef.

His career as a gambler, which was in those days a respectable profession, probably got its start in the Army, but disagreement exists over whether he was crooked or straight in that business as well. Woody believed emphatically that he was honest, saying he even gave money to tinhorn gamblers to get them out of town if they were too broke to pay their debts.

Sometime in the 1870s, according to Woody's book, Knox operated a saloon called Hog Wallow near old Camp Grant in southeastern Arizona. While trying to break up a fight there, Knox was stabbed and seriously hurt. He bled profusely and might have died if friends hadn't taken him to a Mexican home for care and treatment.

Knox was said to have married, in a church ceremony, the daughter of the woman who nursed him to health. His bride's name was possibly Cadina, but records are unclear. Knox later moved to Globe, where he and Bill McNelly owned the Champion Saloon. The two men hosted the town's first children's Christmas party, held in their building in 1877.

Woody also told of how Knox helped raise money to build a hospital in Globe. One day a determined young woman, identified only as Mrs. Van Wagenen, came to the Champion Saloon and solicited a $50 donation from McNelly. As she was leaving, McNelly said, "Don't forget Felix Knox," and called to him.

As the fund-raiser began her appeal, Knox went back to the gaming tables and said, "Boys, Mrs. Van Wagenen is here asking for money to set up a hospital. You're the fellows that need it, so I'm clearing the tables for the hospital benefit and closing the games while I go with her and help her."

With that, he swept the money from the tables into his felt hat and took it to her. Woody wrote that after making the rounds with Knox, Van Wagenen had $1,700 in cash in her money bag.

Another story, found in Woody's notes, tells of the time a bandit held up a stagecoach outside Tucson. When Knox, a passenger, saw what was happening, he quickly wrapped his traveling shawl around an unusually small schoolgirl named Maggie Wilson.

He told her to play possum, put a huge roll of bills in her hand and covered it with the shawl. Knox handed the bundled girl to a third passenger, and boldly stepped from the stage.

"Shhhh!" he said to the bandit. "We have a sleeping child, and we've had a terrible time getting her to sleep. Please, don't wake her up."

The bandit was gentlemanly and let her sleep. Knox then turned his pockets inside