In John Wayne’s last movie – The Shootist [1976] – his character John Bernard Books is a 58 year old famed gunfighter with 30 men to his credit. He travels to Carson City, Nevada to die of cancer and takes a room in the home of Bond Rogers. On one occasion he is visited by his old flame Serepta [played by Sheree North] whose shoddy appearance suggests she may be a destitute prostitute. She first professes her love and says she wants to marry and care for Books in his final days, but it becomes clear she only wants to exploit his death for a book on his life. She promises it will be a good book and parts will be fictionalized by the author to further enhance his reputation. When Books refuses she becomes angry, accepts reimbursement of her train fare, and says terrible things to the dying man as she stomps out and slams the door. Books, dime novels, and confession pamphlets meant a big return on a small investment in the early days of the twentieth century, as people were obsessed with the bad man of the frontier west. Of interest is a real life event paralleling the above encounter which occurred at Ely Nevada in 1907.

 Was T. M. Sanders, occasionally given as F. M. Saunders, a very badman or was his reputation only in the mind of his paramour – Rose Deardolf, whose professional name was “Ruth.” Could it be that the stories Deardolf and others told Attorney Charles H. Reeves came from Sanders himself, trying to build his reputation through bluster. Deardolf hired Reeves to protect her interests after Sanders died, but what interests would he protect except to exploit Sanders’ death by making money producing a dime novel or a “penny dreadful” of his life. First, however, Sanders had to be proved a very bad man, and Reeves set about the task with fervor, and with the help of two bartenders who had heard stories and rumors.
 Sanders, it was said, was born in Texas about 1875 but before he left, according to Deardolf, he “did some work” robbing a store and a gambling house. Deardolf reported that Sanders wounded one gambler who resisted and later when a Texas deputy sheriff confronted the gunman they had a “B Western” style showdown. In the shootout the lawman was wounded and Sanders eluded the posse until the search waned, after the deputy recovered. Sanders then reportedly fled to Arkansas where he “robbed a stagecoach near Fort Smith,” but Deardolf reported that he returned to Fort Worth, Texas where he became well known as a deadly gunfighter. At Bartllesville in the Indian Territory he was supposed to have ran a poker game and owned a part of the gambling revenues, and was well-known at Collinsville as well. About 1902 he was in Albuquerque, New Mexico, but by 1904 he was back in the Indian Territory where, near Ardmore, he reportedly robbed a Santa Fe train in the company of two men, and Cherokee Bill was killed by the messenger [the infamous Cherokee Bill was actually hanged in 1896]. According to Deardolf’s story Sanders and his partner were captured, but Sanders managed to break jail and elude capture. Following the alleged train robbery [there is no record of a train robbery at Ardmore after the late 1890s], Sanders reportedly fled to Texico, New Mexico where he tried to rob a man who resisted, and the victim was shot but not killed. In early 1907 Sanders was in Tucumcari, New Mexico where he renewed his acquaintance with Rose Deardolf. According to Deardolf she had first met Sanders in Old Mexico years earlier where he was running a poker game. Deardolf had  trouble with a man who beat her, but Sanders stepped in and stopped the abuse. According to Deardolf the “John” objected and went for his pistol, but Sanders was too fast and easily gunned him, killing his first man.
 Sanders, a one quarter Cherokee Indian, had started his criminal career as a bootlegger and moonshiner, supplying Indians with debilitating quantities of liquor at great profit. Sanders, as might be expected, was supposed to have associated with other badmen, but they did not fare well. Before he began his “spree of violent crimes” he was supposed to be friends with Crawford Goldsby, better known as Cherokee Bill, who murdered several men during hold-ups. Goldsby was executed for one of those murders at Fort Smith on March 17, 1896, sentenced by hanging judge Isaac Parker. During the time that Goldsby was active, however, T. M. Sanders was a mere teenager. Sanders was also supposed to be friends with John Dunn and “Fat” Durham, bank robbers. Dunn fled and was not heard of again but Durham was hanged at Watunga, Oklahoma. It seems that everyone who could substantiate Deardolf’s tales of Sander’s daring do had died quite some time ago.
 In March 1907 Rose Deardolf moved to Ely, Nevada and took up residence in a crib adjoining the lower Club Dance Hall in the red light district on West High Street. Sanders soon followed and moved in with Deardolf, and she later claimed that she hired the alleged gunslinger as her cook. On October 12 Sanders was gambling and drinking heavily, as he had done for several weeks. He had lost $125, which included his and Deardolf’s money, and had gone broke. He returned to the crib after 10:00 p.m. and demanded more money from Deardolf, but she had none as he had cleaned her out earlier. He began to beat and choke her, but she broke free and screamed for help just as Constables Edwin Gilbert and Harrington, Albert Luchesi and Harry Waller were making their regular rounds checking the dance hall. The four men rushed toward Deardolf’s house, but they met her in front of the dwelling. Deardolf told Gilbert that Sanders had choked her and, when asked where he was, she pointed toward the rear room of the two room suite.
 Gilbert entered and, standing in the light of the front room with pistol drawn, approached the door and found the rear room in darkness. He asked Sanders. “What is the matter? Come out into the light.” Sanders, without hesitation or warning, fired a shot from his .44 caliber Colt revolver which struck Gilbert two inches above the navel and lodged in his kidney. As Gilbert fell near the stove Sanders fired three more shots: striking the bureau; the wall; and the last bullet striking Gilbert in the back, ranging upwards, and passing entirely through his body. Gilbert cried out, “He’s got me, Harry [Waller]; get him quick.”
  Waller, who had remained outside with Deardolf, rushed in and just as he entered the room, with pistol in hand, heard a fifth shot. He saw Sanders falling backward over a trunk and ran to disarm him, but Sanders had no gun and it was later found where it had fallen on the floor, apparently knocked free when Sanders' hand struck the floor. Sanders had blood on his face and he was dead, but there was no one else in the room who could have fired that fatal shot. Constable Gilbert still had his revolver in his hand, but it had not been fired and had one empty chamber under the firing pin and five loaded chambers. Gilbert asked Waller to take his gun and give him his [Waller’s]; and Waller thought he might be in such pain that he wanted to end it, and supposed that his gun was empty. He exchanged guns with Gilbert and handed Gilbert’s pistol to Constable Harrington. Waller took back his pistol before they carried Gilbert to his cabin, where five doctors came to attend him, and seeing the gravity of his wounds quickly moved him to the Dillon Hospital. They operated on Gilbert, who lingered in agony for several hours before succumbing to his wounds during the early morning hours of October 13. Deardolf was arrested as a material witness by deputy sheriff Hudgins and lodged in jail. Later some suggested that Waller had shot Sanders, and he was the only other person in the room who could have done it excepting Sanders himself. Waller then showed his revolver to several reputable persons and they found that it was fully loaded, was perfectly clean, and had not been fired for days.

    Sanders’ body was taken by the undertaker and held for the inquest, then buried in Potter’s field without ceremony or marker. At the inquest for Glbert Dr. L. T. Brock testified that he did not believe that the fatal wound to Sanders’ head, just above the right ear, was self-inflicted. However, taking all the testimony into consideration there appears to be no other explanation. It was proved that Sanders had rested his revolver against the door post to steady it, and had pressed so hard it left an impression in the wood. He was apparently under great stress, and this suggested that when he pressed the muzzle of his pistol to his head, he did so with such firmness that most of the powder burn was carried into the wound. Deardolf testified that Sanders had told her that if she ever “coppered on me [summoned a lawman to arrest him], I will never be taken alive, but I will get my man.” Bartenders George M. McClure and B. C. McCartney, in their testimony, supported the bad reputation of Sanders, but everything they reported was rumor and hearsay. Taking into consideration the totality of the circumstances it appears that Sanders was not a very badman nor an accomplished gunslinger. He was a cowardly abuser of women and a petty thief who had to use a door post to steady his aim to kill a respected lawman. Then, this badman, committed suicide rather than face a trial and possible death sentence, or a lynch mob.
 Constable Edwin M. Gilbert was born at San Bernardino, California on June 24, 1870. He had worked at a variety of occupations before being appointed Ely’s Constable in October 1905. He served with distinction until his death, and the huge turnout for his funeral showed how well he was liked and respected. He was a member of the Odd Fellows Lodge and they conducted the funeral procession, which started from his cabin at 2:00 p.m. on October 15. His sister, Mrs. Bliss of Baker’s ranch, had come eighty miles to attend her brother’s burial in Old Block 4 of the Ely cemetery.
 White Pine News [Ely, NV]: October 14-16, 1907.