Golden-Voiced Cowboy Won Nickname in Unique Fight

by Eddie Herman

Jesse Leaneaugh was a cowboy whose golden voice could hold a thousand head of fear-crazed Texas longhorns.

When the fierce thunderstoms hung low over the Chisholm trail and lightning jumped from horn to horn over a milling, twisting sea of upflung heads this cowboy's wild cry of "slow down little dogie," and the haunting cowboy melodies he sang was oil on the waves of this twisting sea of frenzied beasts.

Leaneaugh was of French decent. He was the nephew of Nick Janis, one of the early mountain men. Born in St. Louis, his family migrated to Wyoming in the early days of Fort Laramie. In his early boyhood Leaneaugh learned to speak most of the dialects of the western tribes. He was a master of the Indian sign language and the great plains blanket talk.

Fort Laramie was then the crossroads of the west, where all the Indian tribes who were freindly with the Sioux and the white men came to tradeand barter their furs.

As the years went by Leaneaugh became a legend on the cattle ranges of the west. When he was 13 years old he was taken to Texas to help bring one of the first trail herds to the northern ranges.

In Texas he was given a new saddle and a complete new outfit for the trail. An exhuberance of boyish pride over his new saddle and six-shooter, along with the sight of the great herd of Longhorns, sent him whooping and yelling into the herd.

When the cowboys had checked the stampede he started for the foreman and rode up to the embryo cowboy. Jesse said, "He took me by the ear and yanked me off my horse." When he was finished shaking me, he said, "Kid, you go back on the drag and just ride along and let your feet hang down. If I catch you up along the sides again, I'll tie some rawhide around your legs."

Jesse Leaneaugh recalled, "My feelings were really hurt and my ear felt as long as a bridle rein."

The great herd moved north. The swollen Red River was crossed. Texas lay behing them; ahead was unknown land. This was the Nations, land held for untold centuries by the shifting Indian tribes. Later to become the state of Oklahoma, it was now a battleground. Endless miles of barren plains, rushing rivers in flood. The Cimarron, Washita, Canadian and the Arkansas.

Between these rivers rode tribes of sullen red men, fighting to protest their dwindling buffalo herds, fighting for their lands and their way of life. Cherokees, Chickaswas, Osage, Choctaws, and Creeks, goaded from their homes by the white man, embittered, angry, joined the wild riding Kiowa, Comanches and Apache tribes, now restless and eager for the trouble.

They lurked in wait along the grave-marked Chisholm trail. Here Leaneaugh's boyish knowledge of the Indians and ability to talk with them amazed the Texas cowboys. When a hard riding Comanche horde swept down on the herd, the boy spurred a running horse straight at them. Using his hat to signal he checked their wild rush.

The cowboys who rode down to back him up sat in open-mouthed amazement as this descendent of Nick Janis parleyed with the chief. His tact and diplomacy, his superb knowledge of an Indian's nature, won all the arguments along the trail.

Before most boys are through prep school Leaneaugh was a seasoned trail hand. The soft-spoken cowboy began to get a reputation along the trail. It was an era of violence, of hard drinking, hard fighting men and born in this youth was an itch to shoot and he would fight with fists or guns.

Leaneaugh became known in Dodge City, Hunnewel, Oglala and all the towns along the trail as a hard riding, quick-tempered cowboy. He drifted to the Montana and the Canadian ranges and rode for all the big outfits in the northwest.

It was in a Montana town where he gained a nickname, "Catfish." Jesse amd a crew of cowboys had drawn their wages and were in town to celebrate.

In one of the saloons they encountered a wild-eyed individual who was whooping it up in approved Montana style. A bearded giant of a man, he roared, "I am half wildcat and half alligator and I can jump higher and scream louder than any man in Montana." He also added he could whip any man in Montana.

Leaneaugh promptly unbuckled his belt and handed his gun to a cowboy. Then he yelled out, "I am a catfish from the wild Missouri, come right on." The giant howled with laughter as he viewed his diminutive challenger. Then he charged in.

The fight which followed became a legend of the cattle trails and cow camps of the west. Leaneaugh fought him with the ferocity of a cornered wildcat and when the half-blinded wild man picked the little cowboy up and squeezed him with a grizzly bear hug, Leaneaugh chewed on his ear and spurred him with a vicious pair of Mexican spurs. While the howling cowboys whooped delight, Leaneaugh chewed the stranger's ear off and made him bawl like an orphan calf. The name "Catfish" stayed with Leaneaugh the rest of his life.

When the Montana ranges grew too hot for Jesse he rode into South Dakota. Here he rode for the Famous U Cross ranch north of Colome. He also rode for the Circle N and other big spreads in the Rosebud. Leaneaugh was now 45 years old and unmarried.

At the time Chief Little Crow had a settlement on a creek in northwestern Tripp county. Chief Little Crow had one daughter. She was the pride of her parents.

She had many suitors, among them Jesse Leaneaugh. Another persistent cowboy who entered the race was Dave Columbe, a grandson of Pierre Dorion. Columbe was a tough cowboy and he served notice he would kill anu one he saw paying too much attention to Little Crow's daughter.

Leaneaugh was no cowboy to trail in any man's dust so he was soon far out ahead of all the rest. He had no fear of Dave Columbe or any other tough cowboys. When the girl said "yes," they were married in a grand church wedding at Little Crow's camp.

Columbe attended the wedding where he was well behaved. Later on he and three other cowboys rode down on Leaneaugh and his wife as they rode in an open buggy northwest of Carter, S.D. Here Dave Columbe roped Leaneaugh's wife. The girl threw off the loop before the cowboy could tighten the rope.

Leaneaugh was not one to sit idly by while some drunken cowboys made sport of his wife. He cut loose on then with a six-shooter and when they fled he untied a saddle horse he was leading and pursued them.

He caught the trio in a Carter saloon and in a blazing gunfight shot Dave columbe. The gunshot wound did not kill Dave, be he did quit roping for the rest of the season.

Leaneaugh and his wife were the paretns of one boy and three girls. When Jesse Leaneaugh, Jr. was 15 years old his father tok him to a sandhills rodeo. Old Jesse entered his son in the bronc riding contest. The boy drew a bucking horse called "Born to Raise Hell." The horse had acquired a local reputation as a bad horse.

Old Jesse said "Son, you ride that goat and spur him from his neck to the seat of your trousers or I'll be the one who will raise hell."

When the chute opened the big bay horse ran out for about 50 yards, then went high to come down and kick completely over his head. Young Jess spurred him every time he hit the ground. And when the horse fell the boy landed like a cat on his feet. As the hosre scrambled to his feet the boy mounted him again.

Old Jesse let out a wild cowboy war whoop and the sand hills crowd went wild with delight. As the old timers came out to shake hands with old Jesse and his cowboy son, the father proudly placed his arm around his boy. "Son," he said, "If you hadn't ridden that pony I would have been ashamed to face this crowd."

In 1936, this cowboy, who had ridden so many ranges, whose name stands high in cowboy hall of fame, bedded down on his eternal campground. He was buried in the little Indian cemetery at Little Crow's camp near Mosher. One of his daughters, Mrs. Bob Rogers, now lives on Silver Street in Rapid City.

Jesse Leaneaugh has been called a rustler, a gunman and a wild cowboy, but I would light a pipe and spread a robe for him and feel honored. He was part of the old west that will never live again.