Sundance, Wyoming is nestled in the valley of the Bearlodge Mountains in Northeastern Wyoming on the western edge of the Black Hills. The County was organized in 1875 and Sundance established in 1879 during the Black Hill Gold Rush. The town was laid out by and named by Albert Hoge who initially owned and operated the hotel and store.
Today, many associate Sundance with Harry Longabough, aka, the Sundance Kid. Indeed, Longabough, in fact, took his name from the small town in the Black Hills of Wyoming. Longabough, born in New York State, found himself down on his luck near Sundance and stole a horse belong to the VVV Ranch. Captured by Crook County Sheriff Ryan near Miles City, Montana, he served 18 months in the Sundance Jail. Following completion of his sentence he wandered to Belle Fourche, S.D. There he bragged about his experiences in the jail with such bravado that he earned the sobriquet “Sundance.”
History and folklore abound in the streets that were made for freight wagons and teams of horses. You can relive the history in the Crook County Museum, housed in the newly remodelled Old Stoney building downtown.
One of the early settlers in the town was Charles Henry Sackett (1859-1937) who came to town in 1890 and established the leading saloon. There were, of course, multiple saloons, but most appealed to those interested in cheap drinks. Sackett’s saloon had an elaborate bar and oak furniture. Sackett, originally from Iowa, had been orphaned at age 12 and worked on river boats. He came west to Dakota Territory working on government survey crews. Later, he worked as cook, stage driver, and messenger until the stage line was put out of business by the advance of the Chicago and Northwestern Railroad. He then worked as a bartender in Rapid City until moving to Sundance and establishing his own saloon.
In 1893, a young freshly minted dentist, Will Frackleton, looking to set up practice in Wyoming as a “tooth carpenter,” came into town. In small towns there are, Doc later explained, three was of becoming immediately known: run an ad in the local weekly newspaper, visit the barber shop, or go to the best saloon in town. The advance ad in the paper did not seem to have been effective. Therefore, Doc headed off to the saloon attired in what he hoped would be perceived as professional looking garb. The saloon, unfortunately, was empty except for Charlie Sackett polishing the glassware. From Charlie, Doc learned that most of the men were watching a boxing match in the hall on the second floor of the fire house. There, Doc discovered that the local banker had set up a full professional looking boxing ring and was taking on local cowboys with bets on the side. The banker had taken boxing lessions in Chicago and was polishing off the various challengers. A stranger wearing eastern clothes is immediately pegged as a “dude.” Being called a “dude” ranked, Doc later wrote, “about fourth high in the list of fighting words.” “Wyoming was,” he said, “still a man’s country, and a dude was considered effeminate and a sissy instead of a financial asset.”
The banker, spotting the young dude, challenged his to a fight. Doc demurred, claiming not to know much about the manly art of self-defence. Eventually, Doc agreed to a friendly match the next morning when not many would be around. Doc went back to Charlie Sackett, gave him a hundred dollars and told him to place it around, betting on Doc to win with a knockout. Charlie agreed to act as Doc’s second.
The next morning when Doc showed up, the place was packed. All had shown up to see the banker whip the Dude. Doc, to feed the flurry of bets Charlie was making, showed up in his best “dude” outfit, complete with celluloid collar and derby hat. A derby, Doc noted, was like ordering lemonade in a saloon. For the first two rounds, Doc looked a picture of despair and impending doom. By the end of the second round all of Doc’s hundred dollars had been bet. The gong rang for the third round, what all believed would be the coup de grâce.
Doc came out looking very tired and groggy. The two touched gloves. The banker winked prodigiously at a ringside admirer. What none knew, Doc had paid for part of his dental school education by boxing under the name of “Willie Riley.” Doc, in a weak voice observed, “Excuse me, Mister, your shoe is untied.” Doc, later wrote:
“It was an old trick, but he fell for it and looked down–a fatal mistake. I stepped in with a right to the solar plexus, a blow new at the time, and a left to the button. Then I uppercut with a right. Down and out he went.
The crowd had never seen anything like it before. The yelling ended quickly in a long silence. The referee began to count.”
As soon as his gloves could be removed, Doc grabbed his shirt, collar, and derby and beat a hasty retreat back to the hotel, leaving Charlie to collect the bets. Doc was accepted. The sheiff stopped by the hotel to take Doc back to Sackett’s for a drink with the boys, the sheriff telling Doc, “You know, kid, I never did have much use for that guy.”
Doc Frackelton moved to Sheridan which because of the railroad became the big town in northeast Wyoming. Charlie Sackett in 1917 foresaw the coming of Prohibition, sold the saloon, and opened the Sundance Garage, an agency for the sale and service of Dodge Brothers and Hupmobile cars. On Sunday, the Fourth of July, 1937, Charlie Sackett and Dr. J. F. Clarenbach went fishing on Sand Creek. They had a good catch and abount noon took a break for lunch. In the nearby woods were two hunters from Lawrence County, South Dakota.
One of the shots from the two hunters came perilously close to Sackett and Doc Clarenbach. Doc yelled out to the hunters. Then came another shot. Charlie’s last words were “Doc, I’m shot.” Charlie Sackett had an Episcopal service at the Commercial Theatre led by Judge Harry P. Haley. Doc Clarenbach’s Model “A” is now owned by the Crook County Museum.