By Phil Roberts, Nov. 19, 2021
Hired gunman Tom Horn was hanged on the “Julian gallows” inside the Laramie County Jail 118 years ago tomorrow. Almost immediately, after his hanging the rumors and myths began circulating—that he wasn’t really hanged, it was someone else, that he’d escaped long before and his hanging was staged, etc.
Years ago now, my friend who worked at the American Heritage Center, called one morning with a rather urgent request. She and her boss at the AHC were having lunch at the Overland at noon and she insisted I join them. I soon discovered the reason.
A researcher had come in to the AHC that morning and insisted, quite confidentially, he had “something to say” about Tom Horn, hanged about a century earlier at that time.
“Well, I’m tiring of the Tom Horn story,” I told her, but she was insistent. I liked the Overland’s lunches so I agreed to join them. (Their Rueben sandwiches were great!) Her boss and I sat on one side of the table; she sat next to the “researcher” on the other. After placing our orders, the man announced that he had something to reveal. We all seemed to shift uneasily in our chairs, perhaps hoping he’d announce a big cash gift to the AHC (or the History Department). But, no.
The man, sitting right across from me, quietly announced that he was “Tom Horn reincarnated.” I probably seemed a bit surprised –how often do you talk to ANYONE who was reincarnated?
“Interesting,” I said as I could see my friend rolling her eyes. “That’s great!” I said, He was seemingly surprised by my response. “Tom Horn, huh?” “Yes,” he said, smiling broadly. “Wonderful!” I said, “then you can answer some questions I’ve always had about Horn.” The man’s smile melted into a frown. I continued: “what were you wearing as Tom that day in mid-July when you shot Willie Nickell?” He stammered and attempted an answer. “I don’t recall such trivia,” he said. “OK. Did you shoot him from the ridge or from that rock in front of the gate?” “From the ridge,” he said with certainty.
“Where were you when you told Glendolene Kimmel about it?” He sensed I was quizzing him (which I was). “That’s private,” he said. “It’s between me and Glendolene.’ “Well, would you summon her and we can ask?” He looked at his sandwich, just then brought by the waitress.
I never saw a reincarnated person wolf down a sandwich so fast and race out of the restaurant, before a pesky questioner (me) came up with another probing question.
It was the closest I ever came to Tom Horn—although I felt I’d been closer that day I stood with lawyer George Guy, waiting for the elevator in Cheyenne’s City-County building. As we waited, George opined that, on the spot on Nov. 20, 1903, where the elevator is located, “Tom Horn was hanged right here.” He added, “Fortunately, we can go up and down. Tom only could travel one way…”