Minstrel
Hero Member
THE GREAT NORTHFIELD MINNESSOTA RAID
By Lee Preston
From written accounts by Northfield Citizens
In the history of the Wild West no gang has contributed more significantly to it's
lore than the one led by Jesse James and his brother Frank. The James boys
were well trained for outlaw careers.
During the Civil War they fought in Confederate guerrilla band whose hit-and-run
raids on Union troops terrorized the Kansas-Missouri border zone. Once the war
was over, the two young rebels organized fellow comrades into a gang ranging in
number from three to a dozen men at any one time. They planned assaults with
masterly precision, struck so fast they paralyzed an entire town to immediately
vanish into the surrounding countryside. The James gang remained at work for 15
years, from 1866 to 1881, and preformed 26 raids for a total take of $500,000.
On the morning of September 7, 1876, Jesse, Frank, the Younger brothers (Cole,
Jim and Bob), Clell Miller, Charlie Pitts and Bill Chadwell set off for Northfield, Minnesota,
riding clad in typical cattlemen linen dusters. First to arrive in town was Jesse on a
striking white-legged sorrel, and Bob Younger, Charlie Pitts on handsome bays. The
three outlaws walked around to the front of the First National Bank and surveyed the points
across the street from which trouble might come.
Shortly after 2:00 in the afternoon three outlaws dismounted on Division Street, hitching
their horses directly in front of the bank. For a few minutes they stood at the door;
immediately three more horsemen came clattering, shooting and whooping as they rounded
the corner. From the opposite end of the street came two more horsemen charging in.
As terrified bystanders scattered, Jesse, Bob, and Charlie rushed into the bank, shouting,
"Throw up your hands!" The cashier, Joseph Heywood and the clerks, A.E. Bunker and Frank
Wilcox, turned to see the three climbing the counter with revolvers in hand. Heywood ran
for the vault; Charlie reached it first. Heywood tried to slam the vault door shut on Pitts, but
at that instant Jesse got there and spotted the safe inside. "Open it," he demanded. "It has
a time lock. It can't be opened," the cashier protested. "That's a damn lie," Jesse shouted,
and with his revolver he struck Heywood to the floor. Bob Younger, meanwhile, had ordered
the two clerks to get down on their knees, demanding the whereabouts of the cash drawer.
Bunker pointed to it. Then, while Younger examined the rolls of coins and loose bills in the
till, Bunker made a dash for the banks back door. Whirling from the vault, Charlie Pitts took a
shot at him, missed, rushed to the door, fired again, winging Bunker as he raced down a stair-
way to the back alley.
At the front of the bank, the five mounted lookouts found themselves under unexpected fire.
Their blazing six-shooters had failed to cow Northfield's citizens. Despite the shortage of
weapons, the townsfolk were putting up a stiff fight throwing stones and shooting a few rifles
and shotguns hastily seized from two nearby hardware stores. One man, Elias Stacy, raced
to Division Street and fired at Clell Miller, knocking him from his horse. His face badly bleeding,
the outlaw mounted again and charged toward Stacy, but young Henry Wheeler, a medical student,
on vacation intervened. Henry grabbed an old army carbine from his father's drug store, ran into the
hotel next door, carried it upstairs to a front window. From there he saw Clell Miller riding hard at Stacy.
Henry fired and the outlaw fell again from his horse. Cole Younger galloped up, dismounted, and
spoke to him. Miller tried to raise himself on his arms; then rolled over dead. Younger seized his
cartridge belt and pistols and took off.
In the midst of the shooting, a Swedish immigrant, newly arrived in Northfield, blundered up Division
Street toward the bank. One of the horsemen shouted at him to get out of the way. Not understanding,
the Swede plodded on and was shot through the head. Suddenly, a single shot shattered the silence
inside the bank. On the way out, Jesse had passed by the cashier lying dazed on the floor. He abruptly
turned back, put his revolver to the man's head and blew his brains out.
As the robbers rushed out and mounted up, it was clear the usual getaway was out of the question.
Northfields citizens were seeing to that.
Elias Stacy was still blasting lead at the invaders. A.E. Manning leveled a Remington repeating rifle
at Bill Chadwell as he rode down the street, took aim and toppled him with a bullet through the heart.
Another shot of Manning took Cole Younger in the shoulder at the same time young Henry Wheeler
firing from the hotel window blew the hat off Cole's head.
By now the gunfire on Division Street had become general and citizens fought the gang with rocks, rifles,
and revolvers. Frank James was hit in the leg and Jim Younger in the face; blood gushed from his mouth.
Still the gang went on riding up and down the street, shooting into doors and windows. Bob Younger
leaped from his horse, took cover behind it, and aimed at merchant Manning. Manning drew a bead on the
head of the handsome bay horse and shot it down. Younger dodged behind a stack of boxes, but he was still
in view of Henry Wheeler in his upstairs perch. Henry fired his carbine and hit Younger in the right thigh.
Suddenly one outlaw shouted "We're beat, let's go!" Bob Younger limped out in the street, calling, "Hold On,
Don't leave me, I'm shot!" Another shot shattered his right elbow as Cole wheeled back towards him.
Lifting Bob onto his horse, Cole raced after his friends. In about 20 minutes, the people of Northfield had
virtually destroyed the famous gang. A few days later Charlie Pitts was dead after being trapped, and all three
Youngers were wounded.
Jesse and Frank made it to the Dakota Territory and their trail vanished near Sioux Falls. They tried later to
revive their gang with new recruits, managed to rob three trains in later years, but their glory days were over.
Bob Ford murdered Jesse in 1882.
By Lee Preston
From written accounts by Northfield Citizens
In the history of the Wild West no gang has contributed more significantly to it's
lore than the one led by Jesse James and his brother Frank. The James boys
were well trained for outlaw careers.
During the Civil War they fought in Confederate guerrilla band whose hit-and-run
raids on Union troops terrorized the Kansas-Missouri border zone. Once the war
was over, the two young rebels organized fellow comrades into a gang ranging in
number from three to a dozen men at any one time. They planned assaults with
masterly precision, struck so fast they paralyzed an entire town to immediately
vanish into the surrounding countryside. The James gang remained at work for 15
years, from 1866 to 1881, and preformed 26 raids for a total take of $500,000.
On the morning of September 7, 1876, Jesse, Frank, the Younger brothers (Cole,
Jim and Bob), Clell Miller, Charlie Pitts and Bill Chadwell set off for Northfield, Minnesota,
riding clad in typical cattlemen linen dusters. First to arrive in town was Jesse on a
striking white-legged sorrel, and Bob Younger, Charlie Pitts on handsome bays. The
three outlaws walked around to the front of the First National Bank and surveyed the points
across the street from which trouble might come.
Shortly after 2:00 in the afternoon three outlaws dismounted on Division Street, hitching
their horses directly in front of the bank. For a few minutes they stood at the door;
immediately three more horsemen came clattering, shooting and whooping as they rounded
the corner. From the opposite end of the street came two more horsemen charging in.
As terrified bystanders scattered, Jesse, Bob, and Charlie rushed into the bank, shouting,
"Throw up your hands!" The cashier, Joseph Heywood and the clerks, A.E. Bunker and Frank
Wilcox, turned to see the three climbing the counter with revolvers in hand. Heywood ran
for the vault; Charlie reached it first. Heywood tried to slam the vault door shut on Pitts, but
at that instant Jesse got there and spotted the safe inside. "Open it," he demanded. "It has
a time lock. It can't be opened," the cashier protested. "That's a damn lie," Jesse shouted,
and with his revolver he struck Heywood to the floor. Bob Younger, meanwhile, had ordered
the two clerks to get down on their knees, demanding the whereabouts of the cash drawer.
Bunker pointed to it. Then, while Younger examined the rolls of coins and loose bills in the
till, Bunker made a dash for the banks back door. Whirling from the vault, Charlie Pitts took a
shot at him, missed, rushed to the door, fired again, winging Bunker as he raced down a stair-
way to the back alley.
At the front of the bank, the five mounted lookouts found themselves under unexpected fire.
Their blazing six-shooters had failed to cow Northfield's citizens. Despite the shortage of
weapons, the townsfolk were putting up a stiff fight throwing stones and shooting a few rifles
and shotguns hastily seized from two nearby hardware stores. One man, Elias Stacy, raced
to Division Street and fired at Clell Miller, knocking him from his horse. His face badly bleeding,
the outlaw mounted again and charged toward Stacy, but young Henry Wheeler, a medical student,
on vacation intervened. Henry grabbed an old army carbine from his father's drug store, ran into the
hotel next door, carried it upstairs to a front window. From there he saw Clell Miller riding hard at Stacy.
Henry fired and the outlaw fell again from his horse. Cole Younger galloped up, dismounted, and
spoke to him. Miller tried to raise himself on his arms; then rolled over dead. Younger seized his
cartridge belt and pistols and took off.
In the midst of the shooting, a Swedish immigrant, newly arrived in Northfield, blundered up Division
Street toward the bank. One of the horsemen shouted at him to get out of the way. Not understanding,
the Swede plodded on and was shot through the head. Suddenly, a single shot shattered the silence
inside the bank. On the way out, Jesse had passed by the cashier lying dazed on the floor. He abruptly
turned back, put his revolver to the man's head and blew his brains out.
As the robbers rushed out and mounted up, it was clear the usual getaway was out of the question.
Northfields citizens were seeing to that.
Elias Stacy was still blasting lead at the invaders. A.E. Manning leveled a Remington repeating rifle
at Bill Chadwell as he rode down the street, took aim and toppled him with a bullet through the heart.
Another shot of Manning took Cole Younger in the shoulder at the same time young Henry Wheeler
firing from the hotel window blew the hat off Cole's head.
By now the gunfire on Division Street had become general and citizens fought the gang with rocks, rifles,
and revolvers. Frank James was hit in the leg and Jim Younger in the face; blood gushed from his mouth.
Still the gang went on riding up and down the street, shooting into doors and windows. Bob Younger
leaped from his horse, took cover behind it, and aimed at merchant Manning. Manning drew a bead on the
head of the handsome bay horse and shot it down. Younger dodged behind a stack of boxes, but he was still
in view of Henry Wheeler in his upstairs perch. Henry fired his carbine and hit Younger in the right thigh.
Suddenly one outlaw shouted "We're beat, let's go!" Bob Younger limped out in the street, calling, "Hold On,
Don't leave me, I'm shot!" Another shot shattered his right elbow as Cole wheeled back towards him.
Lifting Bob onto his horse, Cole raced after his friends. In about 20 minutes, the people of Northfield had
virtually destroyed the famous gang. A few days later Charlie Pitts was dead after being trapped, and all three
Youngers were wounded.
Jesse and Frank made it to the Dakota Territory and their trail vanished near Sioux Falls. They tried later to
revive their gang with new recruits, managed to rob three trains in later years, but their glory days were over.
Bob Ford murdered Jesse in 1882.
