He never made a really big haul and sometimes came up empty. “This knowledge would prove of great value to him in his later career (of stage robber),” Boessenecker said.īoles was careful not to rob stages escorted by shotgun guards, which had the most valuable shipments. But he was acquainted with the backwoods and wagon roads that connected far-flung tent encampments and boom towns. And he probably had at least one mistress.īut when the money began to run out, he would plan another stagecoach robbery.īoles, along with his brother, joined the California Gold Rush in 1850 but never struck pay dirt. He loved betting on horses at the Bay District Race Track. He resembled a grandfather on leisurely strolls through the city’s amusement park, botanical gardens, zoo, art museum, music hall and outdoor theater.
He dined on fine food in popular restaurants. He carried a gold cane and stayed in fashionable hotels. In fact, Boessenecker said, his darkest crime “was lying to his wife and loving daughters, promising to come home.”īoles used his robberies to support a comfortable lifestyle. While Boles stole from Wells Fargo and the mail, he didn’t take from passengers and never shot anyone. He operated under the nose of law enforcement in San Francisco, even befriending cops. “Gentleman Bandit” is the latest from New York Times bestselling author John Boessenecker, a Bay Area lawyer and former police officer who is considered a leading authority on crime and law enforcement in the Old West.īlack Bart was successful for so long because he acted alone, kept to himself and never took anyone into his confidence. Detectives traced the mark by searching 91 laundries in San Francisco and linked it to Boles, an elegantly dressed man in his early 50s posing as a mine owner and stock speculator.īut a new book takes a deeper dive into Boles’ remarkable double life, his background as a seasoned Civil War veteran, his failures as a Gold Rush prospector and farmer and the abandonment of his wife and children for the lure of easy money.
The story has been told of how lawmen finally identified Black Bart from a telltale laundry mark left on a dirty white silk handkerchief at the scene of a holdup in Calaveras County. Boles, better known as Black Bart, robbed more stagecoaches than anyone else - 29 before he was finally caught - including holdups in Sonoma and Mendocino counties in the late 1870s and early 1880s. He was the Old West’s most prolific stagecoach robber, a polite bandit who said “please” and left poetry at the scene of his crimes, yet eluded law enforcement for years.Ĭharles E.
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