Publication: Steamboat Pilot (Steamboat Springs, Routt County); Date: Aug 10, 1898; Section: Front page; Page: 1
JEFF DUNBAR OUTLAW
Ending of a Career Notorious in Criminal Annals.
WAS AN OULAW BY INSTINCT
Said to Have Killed a Hundred Men, Jeff Dunbar Himself Dies With His Boots on.
Some Incidents of a Strange and Adventurous Career

Willis George Emerson writes as follows to the Denver Times: the noted outlaw, Jeff Dunbar, is dead. He lived by the sword and “died with his boots on.” He was shot to death by Jim Davis, the saloon keeper at Dixon, Wyo. He was one of the leaders of a marauding band of desperadoes known as the “Robbers Roost” gang. For years the citizens of Utah, Wyoming, Idaho and Colorado have been terrorized by this noted highwayman and his associates, who without question constituted the greatest criminal league that has ever existed in America. Jim Davis is one of the gang and runs a saloon at Dixon. Last Sunday evening Jeff Dunbar came to the Davis saloon and commenced abusing Davis for a fancied insult that occurred a few weeks previous. It seems that Davis early in July refused Jeff Dunbar, who was on a periodical drunk, any more liquor, and put him out of his saloon late one night, shutting the door in his face. The outlaw leader was humiliated and determined to have revenge. For weeks Jim Davis has been on the alert expecting an encounter with the notorious bandit. Last came last Sunday night. The first shot was fired by Jeff Dunbar, which grazed the left temple of Jim Davis, cutting the hair from his head. Quick as a flash Davis fired four shots into Dunbar’s body, Killing him almost instantly. William B. Snyder, a bystander, accidentally received a shot through his right forearm. A coroner’s jury returned a verdict exonerating Jim Davis, alleging that the killing was done in self defense. Among the members of the gang, numbering some 400 men, probably more, there is much sorrow because of their leader’s death, and mutterings of revenge are heard on every side. They will probably kill Jim Davis.
Among the settlers of the surrounding country there is a feeling of general relief that at last the country is rid of this murderous outlaw. Jeff Dunbar was a vicious character and it is said he has murdered more than 100 men in his time; he has led raids of a score of bank robberies and a countless number of highwayman stage robberies and murderous holdups. His band consists of refugees from justice from nearly every state and territory in the union. There rendezvous was amid the vastnesses of the Rocky Mountains, many miles inland from railroad communication, and near the intersection lines of Wyoming, Colorado and Utah. For a dozen years Jeff Dunbar has been the high chief of this band of robbers. When not raiding banks or playing the part of a “Claude Duval” highwayman, they have busied themselves in stealing horses and cattle.
For years the surrounding country has been plundered by this gang of thieves until their boldness has made them the terror of every border point for miles around. It is said that much of their stolen property, such as cattle and horses, have found an outlet into the Utah and Colorado markets through a tribe of Ute Indians, who are supposed to be in league with the highwaymen. Among Jeff Dunbar’s “hundred slain” may be mentioned Tom Owen, whom he killed in Fort Worth, Tex., over a game of Mexican monte, and then “flew the country.” At Santa Fe. N. M., he killed Jake Blevins, a policeman, who attempted to arrest him. In Denver it is said that half a dozen murderous crimes are traceable direct to his skill with a revolver and bowie knife. In Cheyenne, Bob Stewart’s lamp of life went out because, forsooth, he crossed the track of Jeff Dunbar. For years he has boasted of his ability to “shoot up” any town that he planned throughout the country surrounding his mountain retreat. Among his associates may be mentioned “Broncho” Johnson, Butch Cassidy, Bert Charters, Jack Garland, Jim Stevens, Tom Turley, “Cherokee” Buss”. Isam Dart and a score of other less prominent but none the less desperate characters, who have acted as captains and lieutenants for the noted outlaw who now lies in cold death. A little over a year ago the bank at Montpelier, Idaho, was raided with all the skill and boldness that characterized the most daring exploits of the James boys in years gone by. Over $20,000 was secured from the bank, and up to the present time local authorities have been in bringing the perpetrators to justice, although “Bud” Meeks, one of the gang has been arrested and charged with being an accomplice in the robbery. The country will perhaps breathe easier now that the leader is dead. In many particulars he was a wonderful character. His ability to organize and hold in subjection the lawless class of refugees from justice, who during the last dozen years he has gathered about him, was quite remarkable. It is thought in Dunbar’s death the beginning of the end is discernable. The civil authorities of the states bordering the headquarters of these outlaws are arranging a concert of action to rid the country, if possible, of this terrorizing gang of desperadoes. Some say that Butch Cassidy will be Dunbar’s successor as leader, but it is generally believed that there is not a single man in all the league possessed of sufficient ability to hold the gang in lone and keep them subject to the dictatorship of any one man. The hope of the community is that half a dozen leaders will spring up and the old adage will obtain: “when thieves fall out just men get their dues.” Late Sunday night, after the tragic death of the bandit, six masked men on fiery steeds came dashing up to the Davis saloon. They had carbines swung to their saddle pommels and a brace of revolvers strapped to their belts. The lifeless body of Jeff Dunbar was thronged on the back of his favorite horse, that had carried him in life through many a hairbreadth encounter, and now with patient docility carried the dead chief away in the gathering twilight to his lonely burial ground. High up on the rugged side of Blue mountain, near the summit of the continental divide, amid crags and peaks and torrents of waterfalls, Jeff Dunbar, the inordinate and wicked desperado sleeps and waits in troubled slumber the coming of judgment.