Studio portrait of James Nichols. (Gift of Nannie Escola)
On October 15, 1879, the Beacon reported Mendocino had been “thrown into a state of excitement hitherto unparalleled by the occurrence of a shocking calamity … two of our most esteemed citizens were atrociously murdered and a third wounded within four miles of our town, their comrades narrowly escaping death.”
What made these murders so devastating was that the men had been deputized. Cattle had disappeared from a herd belonging to the Mendocino Lumber Company, and the slain men were ambushed in the line of duty. They rode into a trap set by killers who became known as the Mendocino Outlaws.
The tragedy began when constable William Host rode into the Big River Woods in search of evidence of cattle rustling. He discovered the remains of a half-buried steer, and the next morning Host returned with two deputized lawmen to investigate further. They spotted tracks and followed them to an encampment where four men lounged around a fire eating breakfast, beef curing in plain sight. Also in plain sight, resting against a redwood, were Winchester rifles, pistols, and abundant ammunition.
Host had no warrant. He feigned ignorance of the area, inquiring if the men knew of another good place to set up camp. The Mendocino Outlaws weren’t fooled; they knew who Host was and were waiting for him to collect local taxes, expecting to steal a haul of around $15,000.
Back in Mendocino, Host deputized a posse and set out the next morning with seven men. Among them rode 31-year-old James Nichols. A veteran of the Civil War, Nichols hailed from Ellsworth, Maine. He’d come west after the fighting and taken employment in the logging industry, working his way up the ranks to superintendent at the Mendocino Lumber Company.
Nichols wasn’t the only Maine native in the posse. Thomas Dollard came from Ellsworth, too. Born in 1843, he was a couple years older than Nichols. Dollard had left logging to join yet another Maine native, Henry Jarvis. They’d opened a thriving merchandising venture on the corner of Kasten and Main Street and Nichols and decided to throw his lot in with them.
According to “History of Mendocino County” by Lyman Palmer, the posse found the first camp abandoned. They tracked the bandits along Big River Ridge until they located a second camp deep in a ravine about a mile from the first. They worked their way down a steep precipice and dismounted to investigate. William Wright was in the lead. He bent over the ashes of an abandoned fire. According to Palmer, his final words were: “They must have stopped here last night.”
Wright’s observation disappeared in a hail of gunfire. The outlaws, positioned in the burnt-out trunk of a massive redwood, fired from the opposite side of the gully. Wright took a bullet as dozens of shots rang out in rapid succession. Only four of the posse made it to cover. Among those who didn’t were Dollard and Nichols. Dollard took a bullet to his thigh, returning fire as he fell back. Hit twice more, he rolled to the bottom of the ravine where he managed to crawl under a log in the creek. Nichols took a bullet to his shoulder, but he made it to his horse. He and another man got away and rode for help. By the time help arrived, however, Dollard was dead and Wright was close to it.
Two well-armed parties set out that same evening, and the next day more men joined the hunt. Within a week the governor had offered a reward—$300 for the first and $200 for each subsequent killer. It took 61 days to bring the shooters in.
The Carlson Hotel became a staging ground. Nichols and Wright were brought there to have their wounds looked after. Wright had taken a second bullet near his heart and remained “helpless and speechless.” He died the first night, his body removed to a room over the post office where Dollard had been taken. Nichols survived and had the great fortune of being nursed to health by the Carlson twins: Katherine and Bessie.
One can only guess what Katie Carlson felt. Rumor suggests there was talk of her marriage to Thomas Dollard, but evidence is scant. Two and a half years after the attack, James Nichols married Katie Carlson. Their daughter, born the following year, was Edith Nichols.
—By Molly Dwyer, edited by Averee McNear
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