This book explores in depth the origins, development, and prospects of outlawry and of the relationship of outlaws to the social conditions of changing times. Throughout American history you will find larger-than-life brigands in every period and every region. Often, because we hunger for simple justice, we romanticize them to the point of being unable to separate fact from fiction. Frank Richard Prassel brings this home in a thorough and fascinating examination of the concept of outlawry from Robin Hood, Dick Turpin, and Blackbeard through Jean Lafitte, Pancho Villa, and Billy the Kid to more modern personalities such as John Dillinger, Claude Dallas, and D. B. Cooper. A separate chapter on molls, plus equal treatment in the histories of gangs, traces women's involvement in outlaw activities. Prassel covers the folklore as well as the facts, even including an appendix of ballads by and about outlaws. He makes clear how this motley group of bandits, pirates, highwaymen, desperadoes, rebels, hoodlums, renegades, gangsters, and fugitives—who stand tall in myth—wither in the light of truth, but flourish in the movies. As he tells the stories, there is little to confirm that Jesse and Frank James, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, the Daltons, Pretty Boy Floyd, Ma Barker, Clyde Barrow and Bonnie Parker, Belle Starr, the Apache Kid, or any of the so-called good badmen, did anything that did not enrich or otherwise benefit themselves. But there is plenty of evidence, in the form of slain victims and ruined lives, to show how many ways they caused harm. The Great American Outlaw is as much an excellent survey on the phenomenon as it is a brilliant exposition of the larger than-life figures who created it. Above all, it is a tribute to that aspect of humanity that Americans admire most and that Prassel describes as a willingness "to fight, however hopelessly, against exhibitions of privilege."

This book explores in depth the origins, development, and prospects of outlawry and of the relationship of outlaws to the social conditions of changing times. Throughout American history you will find larger-than-life brigands in every period and every region. Often, because we hunger for simple justice, we romanticize them to the point of being unable to separate fact from fiction. Frank Richard Prassel brings this home in a thorough and fascinating examination of the concept of outlawry from Robin Hood, Dick Turpin, and Blackbeard through Jean Lafitte, Pancho Villa, and Billy the Kid to more modern personalities such as John Dillinger, Claude Dallas, and D. B. Cooper. A separate chapter on molls, plus equal treatment in the histories of gangs, traces women's involvement in outlaw activities. Prassel covers the folklore as well as the facts, even including an appendix of ballads by and about outlaws. He makes clear how this motley group of bandits, pirates, highwaymen, desperadoes, rebels, hoodlums, renegades, gangsters, and fugitives—who stand tall in myth—wither in the light of truth, but flourish in the movies. As he tells the stories, there is little to confirm that Jesse and Frank James, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, the Daltons, Pretty Boy Floyd, Ma Barker, Clyde Barrow and Bonnie Parker, Belle Starr, the Apache Kid, or any of the so-called good badmen, did anything that did not enrich or otherwise benefit themselves. But there is plenty of evidence, in the form of slain victims and ruined lives, to show how many ways they caused harm. The Great American Outlaw is as much an excellent survey on the phenomenon as it is a brilliant exposition of the larger than-life figures who created it. Above all, it is a tribute to that aspect of humanity that Americans admire most and that Prassel describes as a willingness "to fight, however hopelessly, against exhibitions of privilege."

"Leader of the last of the great outlaw bands -- the Olklahombres, Bill Doolin outfoxed the law while trying to walk the line between being a good man and bad. He was a family man and a bank and train and stagecoach robber. By the end of his reign, almost every one of his gang had been gunned down, and now the law was out to finish him as well. But it would not be easy, not even for the likes of the famed U.S. Marshals led by Heck Thomas. A fictional account based on factual evidence about the last of the badmen"--Amazon.com.

"For a century Butch Cassidy has been the subject of legends about his life and death, spawning a small industry of mythmakers and a major Hollywood film. Charles Leerhsen sorts out fact from fiction to find the real Butch Cassidy, who is far more complicated and fascinating than legend has it"--

Bill Doolin was perhaps the last great American outlaw of the nineteenth century. Once part of the Doolin-Dalton gang, he rode and robbed in the wild Indian Territory that would become Oklahoma. The Daltons were eventually shot to ribbons in their failed attempt to rob two banks at once in Coffeyville, Kansas. But Doolin went on to form a new gang that included notables such as Bitter Creek Newcomb, Black Face Charlie Pierce, a remaining Dalton brother, and the Rose of the Cimarron, Rose Dunn, sister of the notorious Dunn Brothers. Pursuing the gang was a tenacious group of U.S. marshals led by the famed Bill Tilghman. Doolin was considered something of a Robin Hood to the locals—everybody but those he robbed and killed. The marshals were determined to end his reign of terror no matter how long it took. The country, after all, was heading into a new century, and outlaws like Doolin no longer had a place in the West.

Right here at home, in America, brutal fights to the death are being staged. These encounters captivate a nation, and beyond, and finally culminate in a television extravaganza with a viewership twenty times greater than on Super Bowl Sunday--yes indeed, the world was tuned in. For months, the news had been reporting, and police departments had been investigating, epic battles between what had been labeled "impersonator killers." People were assuming the identities of famous outlaws from American history--like Capone, Dillinger, Billy The Kid and Butch Cassidy. Then, as if entered in a single-elimination tennis tournament, they engaged in mortal combat in order to move to the next round. Was somebody orchestrating this flabbergasting contest? If so, where were the actors coming from, and what was the prize for prevailing to the end of the circus? Stanley Gleason, the wealthiest man in the world, knew the answer. His young sidekick, Jason Walters, might have spilled the beans on this baffling case but alas his lips were sealed. In the end, there would be one man standing. Ironically, he was the only one that had anything to lose.