Cowboys vs Germans: The Hoodoo W4r of Central Texas

Cowboys vs Germans: The Hoodoo W4r of Central Texas

On August 10th, 1875, former Texas Ranger Scott Cooley rode into Mason, Texas and put a bull3t in the head of Deputy Sheriff John Worley. He then sh0t five additional rounds into the deputy’s body before kneeling over and lping him, right there in front of God and everybody. This would mark the sixth k1lling in what’s now known as the Hoodoo or Mason County W4r, a bl00dy feud that pitted Texas Hill Country ranchers against their own German immigrant neighbors.

Before it was all said and done, another six men would rish, one of whom at the hands of a young g.unman named Johnny Ringo. Maybe you’ve heard of him. What exactly caused the Germans to go to war with their own neighbors? Who the h3ll was this Scott Cooley guy, and how did he get so good at sc4lping? And why, pray tell, is the Mason County W4r sometimes referred to as the Hoodoo W4r? Stick around and find out.

My name’s Josh, and this is the Wild West Extravaganza.  YEEHAW! IF you’ve ever spent much time in the Texas Hill Country, you likely noticed a very strong German influence. And by the way, don’t worry, we will get to the Mason County W4r here in just a moment. First though, I would like to offer up a little bit of context.

You see, it all started back in the 1830s when a German by the name of Frederick Ernst received a large land grant in what’s now Austin County, Texas. He liked what he saw and started writing letters to his friends back home describing Texas as a veritable paradise. And it was these letters that set off a chain migration that would continue for decades to come.

Just to give you an idea, between the years 1844 and 1847 alone, over 7,000 Germans flocked to Texas, pushing deep country and eventually forming what’s known as the German Belt. Just a broad stretch of settlements running from the Gulf Coast on up to towns like Mason and Fredericksburg. These new arrivals naturally brought with them their own customs, language, and even architecture.

I’m talking stone houses and Gothic churches mixed with sauerkraut, polka music, and strong beer. A lot of beer. If you’ve ever had a sausage and cheese kolache washed down by an ice cold Shiner Bock, you can thank the Germans. As for their non German neighbors, these were mostly just your typical Texas cowboys and ranchers. Now, these two groups may have spoken different languages and gone to different churches, but they did get along for the most part.

I mean, they sort of had to, right? Especially considering that the Comanche remained a very viable thre4t. Hell, even as late as the year 1860, the first ever sheriff of Mason County, Tom Milligan, was k1lled by a native war party right there on the outskirts of town. And it was these type of @ttacks that caused the Germans and non Germans alike to form an alliance.

Really wasn’t until the Civil W4r that things began to change. Texas may have voted overwhelmingly to secede from the Union, but most of the newly arrived Germans opposed slavery. Or at the very least, they opposed the idea of conscr.i.ption. There’s even a town in Mason County called Loyal Valley on account of the German residents who remained loyal to the United States.

Well, this didn’t sit too well with many of the Texas Confederates, and it wasn’t long before the tension turned vi0lent. One of the more well known 1ncidents occurred during the summer of 1862. That’s when Confederate troops k1lled over 30 Germans attempted to flee the draft.

Hell, even as far north in places like Cooke County, German immigrants were being executed for their loyalty. Others were arr.ested, in some cases they even had their homes burned down. As I’m sure you can imagine, this led to a good deal of animosity between the two communities. And then on top of all of that, Germans also fell prey to quite a bit of cattle rustling, especially after the war was over.

You see, back in those days, unbranded cattle were considered fair game. And if a few branded cows happen to get mixed in with a herd, well, that was just the cost of doing business. Or at least, that’s according to many of the ranchers. The Germans, however, disagreed. First, they appealed to the army, asking for troops to be sent in.

And when that didn’t work, they decided to take matters into their own hands. Per historian Alan Hatley, quote, “In October of 1873, the German majority in Mason County chose a sheriff, a man they obviously felt could protect their interests. Little is known of Sheriff John Clark’s background. Even his middle name or initial is uncertain.

How an apparent stranger could be elected sheriff is unclear. When Clark rode out of town 2 years later, nobody is sure where he went. One thing is clear, though. While sheriff of Mason County, Clark had no problems with lynching or shooting those accused or merely suspected of livestock theft.

Clark was no g.unman, but he surrounded himself with armed men, including Deputy Sheriff John Worley, who were willing to do his dirty work.” End of quote. Now, at first, Sheriff Clark just deployed various intimidation practices, up to and including arr.esting ranchers and scattering their herds. And when that didn’t prove effective, is when he and his men just resorted to cold bl00ded murd3r.

Like in February of 1875, when they k1lled the 17 year old cowboy named Allan Bolt, left his bull3t riddled body on the road to Mason, with a sign labeling him as a cow thief. Then, just a few days later, Clark stood idly by as an angry mob of Germans lynched and sh0t several of his pr1soners. Blatant k1llings that caused at least two of the sheriff’s own men to turn on him.

One of them, an old boy by the name of Tom Gammel, even went so far as forming a posse of his own, prized the men from nearby ranches, and then riding to Mason to confront the sheriff. Clark wisely got the h3ll out of town, but came back a few days later with twice as many well armed Germans. The two sides squared off near the courthouse, and for a minute there, it looked like Mason was about to turn into a b4ttlefield.

Fortunately, cooler heads prevailed, and a truce was negotiated. No more mobs, no more lynchings. And for a while, things did go back to normal. Well, until a couple months later, in mid May, that Clark sent his deputy, John Worley, to arr.est a well respected rancher named Tim Williamson. Now, Tim had previously been arr.ested for possessing a stolen calf, allegedly, and one of his budd1es, Dan Horster, posted his bond. So, he was released.

But, for wh@tever reason, Mr. Horster then withdrew said bond shortly thereafter, which is why Worley was riding out to pay Williamson a visit. And despite Williamson’s own foreman stating that he’d go to town later on that day and post a new bond, Worley still insisted on taking him in. And sure enough, just about 10 mi down the road, they were met by a dozen vigilantes.

Williamson tried to escape only to have his horse sh0t out from underneath him, possibly by Deputy Worley. And then, once he was a foot, the vigilantes filled him full of lead. And yeah, it was this k1lling that changed everything. You see, Williamson had a young friend named Scott Cooley, guy I mentioned in the intro. And trust me when I say Scott Cooley was not the type of man you wanted coming after you.

Originally from Missouri, Scott and his family moved to Jack County, Texas when he was still a child. Per historian Alan Hatley, quote, “Indian war parties regularly raided into that area, and it continued that way through the Civil W4r and even into the 1870s.” The Austin Daily State Journal of February 17th, 1872 and other sources tell the story about how three members of the Cooley family were trailing stolen horses the previous January 20th when they came upon about 25 Indians.

The Cooleys opened fire, k1lling two Indians and scalping one, though they were not able to recover their stock.” End of quote. Now, whether or not Scott Cooley participated in that chase, I’m not entirely certain, but I do know he had other close encounters with the so called hostiles, especially once he enlisted with Company D of the Texas Rangers.

In fact, after one especially brut4l b4ttle, Cooley cut the throat of a wounded Comanche and then sliced a large piece of skin from his back, saying that he would, quote, “Make a gourd out of it.” Not long thereafter is when Cooley left the Rangers and took the ranch in just west of Mason County. He’d also helped trail at least two herds of cattle up to Kansas, which as it turns out is how he first met up with Tim Williamson.

Now, there is another story claiming that Tim and his wife helped nurse Cooley back to health after he came down with typhoid. I wasn’t able to verify whether or not that’s actually true, but either way Scott would look to Williamson and his wife almost like surrogate parents. And when Williamson was k1lled, Cooley reportedly broke down crying.

He waited for the legal system to do its job, but when the Mason County Grand Jury failed to issue indictments, that’s when he went on the warpath. His first target was none other than Deputy John Worley. Found him over in Mason helping to dig a well, sh0t him in the back of the head, and then took his scalp.

Then just 9 days later, he rode out to a nearby farm and k1lled a man named Carl Bader. No relation to Master. Why did he k1ll Carl? Well, it was Carl’s brother Peter who allegedly dropped the hammer on Williamson. Guess Cooley figured that if he couldn’t locate Peter, he just go ahead and settle for his brother.

And just like that, the war was on. Two of Cooley’s allies, Moses Baird and George Gladden, were 4mbushed by one of Sheriff Clark’s posses on September 7th, k1lling Baird and badly injuring Gladden. Then once again, quote historian Allen Hatley, “If k1lling Tim Williamson had been the biggest mistake made by Clark and company, then the murd3r of Moses Baird was the close second.

” John Baird, Moses’ brother, now rode into Mason County with John Ringo and several others, first to recover Moses’ body, and later to even the score. Ringo, along with John Baird, was now joined with Cooley in the relentless search for revenge. “And there were others, too. More than a dozen men from Burnet, Llano, Blanco, and Bandera counties rode into Mason County to avenge the de4th of Moses Baird.” End of quote.

And yes, that is the same John Ringo of Tombstone fame. Fact, it was Ringo and another man identified only as Williams who just weeks later would k1ll the guy who had lured Baird and Gladden into that 4mbush. Just rode right up into the man’s yard and sh0t him as he was washing his face. And on and on it went.

Things eventually got so hot that the Texas Rangers were deployed, but even they couldn’t put a lid on the violence. Mostly on account of the Rangers just flat out refusing to apprehend Cooley. Apparently, these were some of the same old boys who had once served with him. So, I guess there was still a good deal of respect.

Meanwhile, the k1llings continued. Remember Dan Horster, the guy who withdrew the bond for Tim Williamson? Well, Cooley finally caught up with him on the streets of Mason and g.unned him down in broad daylight. A rather bold action that caused Sheriff Clark to resign his position and flee the county entirely. As for Peter Bader, the guy who Cooley was looking for in late August, he was finally k1lled by the aforementioned George Gladden.

Now, for wh@tever reason, Cooley and Ringo then headed some 75 mi east to Burnet County, where they were arr.ested for thre4tening the sheriff and one of his deputies. The pair received a change of venue to the town of Lampasas. And it’s there in Lampasas, later on that May, where a group of around 40 or so of their budd1es busted them out of jail.

And yeah, by this point, the Mason County W4r was pretty much over. 10 men had been k1lled in just as many months, and nobody was really ever held responsible for any of it. George Gladden would eventually be sentenced to pr1son for k1lling Bader, but even then, he’d receive a pardon just a few years later. Everyone else was either de@d or scattered.

As for Scott Cooley, he too would disappear just about a month after his friends busted him out of jail. According to at least one source, he was sh0t while narrowly escaping a posse, and then d1ed of his wounds later on over in Blanco County. Others claim that he hid out in the Nimitz Hotel in Fredericksburg and d1ed of a brain fever after being poisoned by the Germans.

Either way, like I said, the k1llings did stop, and the war was effectively over. Although Johnny Ringo was re arr.ested, he’d soon be released after a mysterious fire burned down the Mason County Courthouse. Guess since all the incriminating records were destr0yed, they had no other option but to let him go, after which he somehow finagled his way into a const4ble’s position before finally heading west to Arizona.

And by the way, if you’re curious as to why the Mason County W4r is sometimes referred to as the Hoodoo W4r, this seems to be mostly due to the vigilantes and their habit of wearing masks. It’s also a word that former slaves used to describe members of the KKK. And considering that both groups operated in similar fashions, disguised themselves as they terrorized people in the middle of the night, I’d say the name fits.

I also found another source alluding to the word Hoodoo being a.ssociated with bad luck. But yeah, that’s the Mason County W4r in a nutsh3ll. I wish I had more to tell you about the de4th of Scott Cooley, but unfortunately his demise still pretty much shrouded in mystery. That said, you can find a gravestone bearing his name over at the Miller Creek Cemetery north of Blanco.

Now real quick before you go, I do have a very big correction to make regarding last week’s episode on Billy Brooks. You may have heard me cite historian Leon Metz on multiple occasions last week, and while I do consider Leon Metz to be a very trusted source when it comes to Old West history, I very stupidly got him mixed up with another great historian named Robert K.

DeArment. So every time you heard me say, “According to historian Leon Metz,” what I should have said was, “According to historian Robert DeArment.” Not really sure how I got my wires crossed, but I do own a lot of books by both of these guys, and I’m usually researching like four or five different topics at any given time, and I guess Mr.

Metz was fresh on the brain, and I got him mixed up. The information still stands, I just misattributed the source and wanted to make sure I give credit to where credit’s due. All right, and I guess that’s about all I’ve got. Another short episode, but we will be back next week with brand new content. Until then, thank you for listening, and adios.