Biographical Excerts for
Henry C. "Hank" Vaughan
Oregon
Submitted by Sherylynn Jones
Hank Vaughan
Howdyshell collection
It is somewhat ironic that the town of Athena should have been the home of Umatilla County’s most
revered lawman, Tilman Taylor, and Hank Vaughn, Urnatilla County’s most notorious outlaw.Henry C. Vaughn was spanked into life sometime during 1847 in the Willamette Valley. Apparently
the swat was enough to keep him out of trouble during his boyhood, but in 1865 at the age of eighteen, Vaughn began his march across the pages of criminal in- justices. He and a cowboy friend had a band
of horses of unidentifiable ownership which they were moving through Baker county to Idaho.Snugly rolled in their blankets against the night air, they slept peacefully along the banks of the Burnt
River. Suddenly they were aroused by the surprise visit of Baker county sheriff, Frank Maddock and his deputy.Ordered to “Come out peaceful or we’ll cut you to ribbons,’ Hank and his partner rolled out of their
bed rolls with guns blazing.The deputy sheriff and Hank’s partner were killed. Sheriff Maddock was seriously wounded, but he
managed to handcuff Vaughn and get him back to Auburn, the county seat of Baker county. In the
evening light it had been difficult to determine who had fired the fatal shot that killed the deputy, Hank
or his partner, The partner was dead and Hank’s gun (112) was empty. The grand jury made quick
work of indicting Vaughn for murder and larceny.Auburn was a booming mining settlement and the miners wasted no time on law breakers. Hank was
arraigned the same day he was indicted.Separate juries heard the testimony. Hank Vaughn was found guilty of larceny and sentenced to ten
years in the penitentiary. The next day a second jury found Vaughn guilty of murder, and he was given
a sentence of life imprisonmentIn the settlement of the West mob violence was quite common. Following Vaughn’s trial, the citizens
of Auburn decided to save the State some money. The mob moved toward the jail with a large log ready
to ram the jail house door. Several ropes were ready for neck ties.Unexpectedly the jail house door opened and John Halley, well known stage operator and freighter
appear~ in the lamplight. Halley had been appointed acting sheriff until the recovery of Maddock,
Two revolvers gleamed in his hands.“Stop right where you are,” commanded Halley. “There’ll be no violence here tonight.”
“Get out of our way John,” yelled one of the men. “We haven’t any fight with you. We just want the
S.O.B. who stole our horses and killed the deputy.”John Hailey never backed down. “You’ll have to get me first,” he calmly announced, “I been appointed
to help out ‘til Maddock gets back on duty, and that’s what I aim to do. Help me out. Vaughn’ll get
what’s comin’ to him. Let’s uphold the law, We got other things to do.”Slowly the crowd dispersed. Several days later Vaughn was sent to the Oregon Penitentiary
113
During his penal institution Vaughn was a model prisoner. He learned to be a blacksmith, and at the
end of eight years Governor Grover gave him a full pardon.Vaughn went to Nevada upon his release from prison. He had a blacksmith shop at Elko and Reno
and appeared to be doing well. However it was not long before Hank’s past caught up with him. Stories
about his gun battle with Sheriff Maddock were enlarged, and his prison record was public knowledge.
He was reported to have killed two or three men, but was never arrested.After several years in Nevada. Vaughn went into business with Bill Moody and Still Huelet, and the
three men brought a large band of horses to Eastern Oregon with profitable results.Shortly after this Hank Vaughn married the daughter of William Craig and a Nez Perce Indian
woman. Craig was a famous mountain man and the first man to receive a land patent in the Territory
of Idaho.Hank and his wife moved out on the Urnatilla Reservation where Mrs. Vaughn owned some land. At
this time every opportunity was given for Hank to become a prosperous rancher and law abiding
citizen, but his weakness for gambling and a roving spirit soon had him in trouble.In 1880 a group of men were sitting around a card table in a Prineville saloon. The day was cool, and
there was a fire in the huge wood burning stove. Suddenly Hank Vaughn walked through the swinging
doors, He hung his coat and hat on the pegs beside the door and paused to warm himself by the heater.
The well cut black broadcloth coat he wore did not reveal the gun holster cleverly disguised underneath.Vaughn was a picture of the Western gambler, with vest and trousers matching the coat, a white shirt,
a black tie and a silk neckerchief worn at his throat. His (114) hair and Van Dyke beard were neatly
trimmed and although small of stature he appeared to be a man of gentlemanly distinction.The chill of the day dispelled, Hank carelessly tossed a twenty dollar gold piece to the bartender and
turning to the men in the room said, “Everybody have a drink on Hank Vaughn.”The men jostled each other at the bar as they watched the bartender line up the drinks. One of the
men, however, did not accept Hank’s hospitality.A scowl crossed the outlaw’s face, “Ain’t my money good enough for you, Charlie Leong?” asked
Hank.Slowly Leong got to his feet. “1 don’t drink with Hank Vaughn now or ever,” he said.
Hank’s scowl deepened. The men at the bar began to move back as Hank teased, “Is that so. You’re
getting pretty choosey aren’t you, Charley? I been hearin’ as how you said you was not afraid to stand
up to me. Well now’s your chance. Grab the other end of this scarf and keep ahold, then draw and
we’ll shoot it out.”Always gutsy, Charlie Leong didn’t hesitate. “If that’s the way it’s gonna be, that’s OK by me,” he
drawled.The two men were in the center of the room with one end of the scarf clenched in their hands. Simultaneously
both guns exploded, and at the end of the fourth shot both men collapsed to the floor where they each
fired one more shot.A doctor was quickly summoned to the scene. Death seemed imminent, but apparently the devil didn’t
want either one of them as they both survived; Charley Leong horribly disfigured for life from a bullet
wound in the face.115
The following record from The East Oregonian of June 2, 1893 reveals the rest of Hank Vaughn’s life:"Hank Vaughn was out celebrating to some extent Tuesday afternoon. Mounted on his handsome sorrel horse, and wearing an air of bravado, he rode up and down the street to give a gratuitous ‘Wild West’
show for the benefit of the Pendleton public.About 5:30 o’clock in the evening Hank put his spurs to his horse and rode furiously down Main street
toward the depot, rider and horse being nearly concealed in a cloud of dust. At a cross street just beyond
the depot, in an attempt to make a sudden turn, the horse stumbled and fell, hurling Hank over its head
and into the gravel. Some of the spectators stated that the animal sprawled on top of its luckless rider.The faithful horse arose and stood motionless, Hank’s foot remaining in the stirrup. He was picked up bleeding,
dirt covered and insensible, his right eye nearly forced from its socket by striking the rocks. It looked
for a time that the man who appears to have nine lives and more too, so often has he been hurt and
wounded, had at last been the victim of his own recklessness. He was taken to the Transfer House and
Dr. Smith and Dr. Guyon summoned. From the effects of the hard fall he was for some time unconscious,
and it was hard to say how his injuries would terminate. Next morning however, he had rallied in good
shape and remarked almost cheerfully:
‘It’s pretty hard to kill me off.’He is hurt somewhat about the chest and may have a cracked rib. His eye is badly damaged and fearfully
swollen, but it is thought he will not lose it, Hank’s family were notified and arrived on the evening train
from Athena to attend him.”116
The following is quoted from the East Oregonian of June 20, 1893:“At 8 o’clock Thursday night death closed a colorful career. The operation on Hank Vaughn could not
save the life that was almost extinct when it began, and in a few hours afterward, the quick disturbed breathing that was the sole evidence of the fast-dimming vital spark ceased abruptly, and the soul of
one of the most reckless beings who have given the ‘Wild West’ its title was called to his Maker.Oh, Hank that was a fateful ride the last
time you mounted your sorrel in the streets
of Pendleton and sped with him like a
tempest. Even his sure feet could not keep
pace with your impulse, and you were plung-
ed headlong upon the rocks.”
Any questions, suggestions, corrections, or additional information,
contact me, Linda CONAWAY Welden at:Linda_Welden@Vaughan-Vaughn.org
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