The Line between Lawmen and Lawless On December 26, 1910, Oscar Chitwood lay lifeless on the courthouse lawn in Hot Springs, his wrists shackled together, and his body torn by bullets. The deputies on the scene claimed that masked men had lynched their prisoner and that the lawmen were innocent bystanders to the carnage. Newspapers everywhere proclaimed this killing another example of vigilantism run rampant. Within days, however, the official story fell apart, and these deputies were charged with cold-blooded murder. Authors Guy Lancaster and Christopher Thrasher tell the little-known story of accused outlaw Oscar Chitwood, the authorities he dared defy, and the mysterious resort town of Hot Springs, a place where the Wild West met the epitome of civilization, and where the boundaries between lawman and outlaw were never all that clear.

From a hot springs attraction to a central location for gangsters, gambling, moonshine and organized crime, trace the evolution of this "loose buckle in the Bible belt", now a resort and major tourist destination. In the late 1800s, Hot Springs, Arkansas, was a small town with a big attraction: hot thermal water. The federal government took possession of the downtown-area springs, and bathhouse row was born, along with the first property that would be considered a national park. Following not too far behind were great entrepreneurs who brought in gambling and prostitution to go with the area's leading industry: moonshining. By the time the 20th century rolled in, Hot Springs was booming with tourists and became America's first resort. In the early 1930s, former New York gangster Owen Madden took up residence in the spa city, and things became very organized. Gangland luminaries from Al Capone to Frank Costello made regular pilgrimages over the next few decades to what was referred to as "the loose buckle in the Bible Belt."

From its rise in the 1800s until well into the twentieth century, Hot Springs was a famed resort known worldwide. The grand hotels and world-class bath houses that sprang up around the government-protected springs drew countless visitors, ranging from the famous and wealthy to those of humble means, all seeking the health and pleasure promised by the Spa City's promoters. In the words of a railroad tourist guidebook from about 1910, "A stay at Hot Springs, be it ever so brief, always remains a pleasant memory afterward. It was the writer's good fortune to spend a few days at this popular resort--not as an invalid, I am happy to say, but as a tourist--and I certainly never bathed in more delightful water than that which flows so abundantly from the hot springs of Arkansas. There is buoyancy, a magnetism about it that is simply indescribable." Such has been the experience of countless visitors over the years. Readers will find much of the history of this storied resort in Hot Springs, Arkansas, which is profusely illustrated with vintage postcards and photographs, all carefully interpreted by the authors, Ray and Steven Hanley, with research assistance from Mark Blaeuer of the Hot Springs National Park staff.

Throughout America's past, some men have feared the descent of their gender into effeminacy, and turned their eyes to the ring in hopes of salvation. This work explains how the dominant fight sports in the United States have changed over time in response to broad shifts in American culture and ideals of manhood, and presents a narrative of American history as seen from the bars, gyms, stadiums and living rooms of the heartland. Ordinary Americans were the agents who supported and participated in fight sports and determined its vision of masculinity. This work counters the economic determinism prevalent in studies of American fight sports, which overemphasize profit as the driving force in the popularization of these sports. The author also disputes previous scholarship's domestic focus, with an appreciation of how American fight sports are connected to the rest of the world.

"Drawing from the fields of history, philosophy, cognitive science, sociology, and literary theory, and quoting chilling contemporary accounts, historian Guy Lancaster argues that the act of lynching encompasses five distinct but overlapping types of violence"--