The Outlaw Who Came Back From the Dead... Sorta

Hey there,

You ever get so famous… that people start putting random guys in jail just for looking like you?

That was the bizarre life (and death) of William Blake — a.k.a. Tulsa Jack.

Now, if that name sounds like a whiskey brand or a washed-up cowboy poet, I don’t blame you.

But no — this guy was the real-deal, gun-slingin’, dynamite-slingin’, train-robbin’ Plains Pirate.

(Pirates didn’t only do boats, folks. Some took to the prairie… with revolvers instead of parrots 🏴‍☠️)

Back in the early 1890s, Tulsa Jack was lighting up the West — literally — by blowing up safes on moving trains, robbing banks, and casually evading lawmen like it was his side hustle.

In 1892, he met a fella named Bill Doolin, who led a gang charmingly known as…

The Oklahombres.

(10/10 for branding, boys.)

Tulsa Jack became one of Doolin’s right hands — and by 1893, he was elbow-deep in one of the wildest shootouts of the time: Ingalls, Oklahoma Territory.

Three U.S. Deputy Marshals died that day, and Jack walked away like it was a Tuesday.

Now fast forward to March 23, 1895.

The Woodward Jeffersonian (which sounds more like a fancy cocktail than a newspaper) publishes a bombshell:

“Tulsa Jack FOUND — sitting in a Kansas City jail cell!”

Cue the celebration, the whisky shots, the smug headlines.

Except… 😬

It wasn’t him.

Turns out they just arrested a guy who looked like him and probably had the misfortune of being both tall and moustached.

(Back then, that was like saying “He was wearing pants.”)

But here’s where the story flips…

Because while his doppelgänger was cooling his heels in jail, the real Tulsa Jack was laying low in Major County, O.T.

Well… trying to.

On April 4, 1895, a posse of U.S. Deputy Marshals — including one William Bartling Murrill — tracked him down to a hideout.

And after 45 tense, gun-crackling, cover-ducking minutes of a shootout…

Tulsa Jack made a run for it.

Classic outlaw move.

And then —

BANG.

Marshal Murrill’s bullet found its mark.

Just like that, the legend of Tulsa Jack ended in the dirt of Oklahoma Territory.

Gone.

No more dynamiting express safes.

No more banks.

No more wrongfully-accused jail clones.

Just a grave and a story.

Now here’s what’s crazy...

Even after the gang disbanded, Blake supposedly ran with a counterfeiting operation.

Because apparently once you’ve robbed moving trains with TNT, the 9-to-5 life just doesn’t hit the same 💵💥

So what do we do with a tale like Tulsa Jack’s?

We remember it.

Because every era has its outlaws.

Some with revolvers.

Some with spreadsheets.

Some… with really shady Instagram ads.

And whether you’re dodging Deputy Marshals or just dodging spam filters, the principle remains:

Don't get caught.

(Or at the very least… don’t be the wrong guy in a Kansas City jail.)

Stay legendary,

Matt West🐎

P.S. If you ever find yourself in a hideout in Major County, maybe… don’t try to run. History says that doesn’t end well.