Many years ago I lived about 15 miles from Tombstone & struck up a friendship with an elderly rancher named Sid Wilson. Sid passed away in 1981 at the age of 107. Sid was a colorful character who could tell some stories (not tall tales) that he backed up with old newspaper clippings he kept in a scrapbook. Sid had been, in his lifetime, a Cochise County Dep. Sheriff, Dep. U.S. Marshal, cowboy, stagecoach driver (he drove the last stage run between Tombstone & Benson in 1905 when the railroad came through Tombstone & put the stage line out of business), Mayor of Tombstone and in the early 50's owner of the OK Corral.
Now Sid was a little shaver when the Earps resided in Tombstone and he didn't really know them. But as a teen & young adult he knew several residents who were adults & lived in Tombstone at the time.
At the time of the OK Corral gunfight Tombstone had two physicians that historians have all but overlooked, One was Dr. H.M. Matthews who was, at the time, Cohise County Coroner. The other was Dr. George Goodfellow who was considered the best surgeon in the county. Both doctors maintained offices above the Crystal Palace Saloon where Virgil Earp had his office while serving as Tombstone City Marshal.
It was Dr. Goodfellow who tended to Morgan and Virgil when they were shot. Sid told me that when he was a young man it was rumored about town that Dr. Goodfellow had performed an abortion for Josephine Sarah Marcus at the time she was engaged to, and living with Johnny Behan. Sounds possible.
Dr. Goodfellow left Tombstone around 1888-90 and set up practice in San Francisco. He had the reputation of being the country's foremost expert on the treatment of gunshot wounds in the late 19th & early 20th centuries because of all the experience he obtained in his Tombstone years. He was also instrumental in saving the arm of another famous old west lawman, and friend of Sid Wilson's..... Jeff Milton.
Jeff had served as a deputy sheriff, Texas Ranger, Mounted Customs Inspector, Border Patrol agent, and City Marshal of El Paso. While Marshal he had a few altercations with John Wesley Hardin. During the last one he wrestled with Hardin & saved the life of a rustler Hardin was about to kill.
Finding the Marshal's job less than lucrative, Jeff hired on as a Wells Fargo express messenger on the Southern Pacific run from Benson, Arizona, to Guaymas, Mexico, many of its cargos being comprised of gold and silver bullion. Armed with food, sixgun, shotgun, and rifle, he escorted many valuable shipments, interspersing railway trips with horseback forays in search of border badmen. In the course of one of these posses, Jeff and his friend Scarborough, in a desperate gunfight, shot noted desperado Bronco Bill Walters and scattered his band from a mountain camp.
Lawman-turned-outlaw Burt Alvord and five confederates planned to raid the richly laden express car at Fairbank, Arizona, SW of Tombstone, but took painful precautions that Jeff would be diverted and not guarding the car that day. Through chance, their ruse failed, and it was Milton who opened the car door and started passing out packages to the agent. Seeing whom they were faced with, the outlaws opened fire with high-powered rifles, shattering the bones in Jeff’s left upper arm.
Shooting one-handed with his shotgun, Jeff dropped two of his antagonists, and rapidly weakening from loss of blood, he shut the door, concealed the keys in the safe, improvised a tourniquet, and passed out. Although the holdup men continued to shoot into the car and finally searched Milton for the keys, they were foiled.
The local sawbones wanted to amputate Milton's badly damaged left arm. But he would have none of it, He boarded a train for San Francisco & sought out the services of Dr. Goodfellow who was able to save the arm, but not the use of it.
After a long recuperation, Jeff emerged with a crippled left arm. Still dead game, his efforts were later largely responsible for the capture or death of the Alvord gang.
In 1904, Jeff was appointed to the unique position of Mounted Chinese Inspector. This was a job under the Immigration Service, then part of the Department of Commerce and Labor. The Border Patrol had not yet been organized, and Milton’s commission came directly from President Theodore Roosevelt. Hordes of Chinese were being smuggled out of an antagonistic Mexico into the U.S., which prohibited their entry. Milton’s riding job was much the same as it had been with Customs, and he covered over the many ensuing years much of the same area of southern Arizona. A healthy, horseback life kept him zestful and young. Still single, he raised a little harmless hell from time to time and “covered the ground he stood on.”
Though catching Chinese was somewhat less challenging to the veteran, he made the most of it, seasoning his days with personal combats, guiding, and prospecting. In 1919, Milton married Mildred Taitt of New York and at least went through the motions of settling down. That same year, he was assigned to assist in guarding a boatload of Russian radicals comprised of Emma Goldman and her followers on their deportation to Russia. Jeff lusted for trouble and stocked up on extra ammunition, but to his disappointment, the crossing was tranquil.
Jeff’s life in the desert with his scores of friends continued. When he turned 70, his services were still considered so valuable that he was asked to continue for two years. And a last, in 1932, a government economy move forced him into retirement at Tombstone, Arizona.
Among U.S. Border Patrolmen today, Jeff Milton remains known as “the first Border Patrolman.” He moved to Tucson, where his old comrades of the Border Patrol surreptitiously watched over him, although he needed little of that until the end, which came May 7, 1947.
Jeff was Cremated, and his ashes were scattered over his beloved desert.