In the rugged landscape of early 20th-century Nevada, few figures commanded as much respect and affection as Sam Gay, the legendary lawman who served as Clark County Sheriff for two decades. His story is intrinsically woven into the fabric of Las Vegas’ formative years, defining the very essence of law and order in a burgeoning Wild West town. From a formidable bouncer on the infamous Block 16 to a widely elected peace officer, Sam Gay navigated a volatile era with a unique blend of strength, pragmatism, and unwavering public support.
Early Life and an Unconventional Path to Justice
Born on March 1, 1860, on Prince Edward Island and raised in Boston, Massachusetts, little is definitively known about Sam Gay’s early life before his arrival in the American West. His first recorded employment was as a driver for San Diego’s mule-drawn streetcar system in the early 1900s. The allure of the Goldfield, Nevada, gold rush drew “Big Sam” eastward, but his journey unexpectedly halted in Las Vegas. After a spending spree left him without funds, Sam took on a challenging role that few dared to hold: bouncer on Block 16. This notorious district was the only area in early Las Vegas where liquor was served without licensing restrictions, and prostitution flourished openly. Though euphemistically hired as a “night watchman,” his true duty was to maintain order on the chaotic line, paid directly by the saloon keepers.
Sam Gay was an imposing figure, standing 6’5″ tall and weighing a formidable 260 pounds. His sheer size alone was often enough to quell most disturbances without a single blow. It was claimed he was once slated to fight the legendary boxer John L. Sullivan in Boston, a match that ultimately fell through due to financial woes. In instances where drunken brawlers attempted to overwhelm him, Sam was known to handle them in pairs, seizing them by their necks and forcefully cracking their heads together. A particularly vivid anecdote recounts a time when a frenzied caballero charged him with a knife; Sam simply picked the man up by the shoulders, shook him into unconsciousness, and then tied the inert form to a hitching post outside until he sobered up the following morning.
From Bouncer to City Constable and Deputy
Affable despite his formidable demeanor, Sam Gay transitioned into politics in 1906. He successfully ran for City Constable in Las Vegas’s first election as a Lincoln County township, easily defeating the incumbent. His reputation for fairness and strength quickly solidified his position in the community. In 1908, he was appointed deputy under Lincoln County Sheriff Paul K. Smith. This role lasted until 1909, a pivotal year when Clark County was officially established, with Las Vegas designated as its county seat, signaling a new era of governance for the burgeoning region.
The Case of the Five Mexicans: A Pragmatic Lawman’s Report
One of the most peculiar cases in Sam Gay‘s early career as a lawman was recounted by journalist Elton Garrett in The Las Vegas Review. The scene was gruesome: five corpses, bloodstained and battered, lay sprawled in an isolated saloon behind the railroad roundhouse—a haunt for “hard men” who carried firearms and knives. Gunplay was not uncommon, but this was a massacre. As both deputy sheriff and coroner, Sam Gay bore the sole responsibility for investigating the mystery of who killed the five Mexicans in a county that struggled to pay its officers.
Upon arrival, Sam commanded all present to remain seated, warning against departure. He then questioned the scowling denizens, yet gathered little more information than he had initially. “Well, it looks like there was a general brawl here this evening and five of the brawlers got theirs,” the deputy/coroner declared. “If I can’t find out from any of you fellows who else was here and who started this mess, then I don’t know who will tell. It’s a cinch they won’t tell,” he added, gesturing towards the deceased. After examining the premises, noting details, and ensuring the bodies received respectable burials, Sam doggedly continued his investigation for several days. All he could ascertain was that an argument among the men escalated into a deadly exchange of stabbings and gunfire.
Almost a month later, when the Lincoln County sheriff wired him for a report on the shooting, Sam Gay‘s infamous reply encapsulated his pragmatic and no-nonsense approach to frontier justice: “Five Mexicans killed. Brawl. All buried. No expense to the county. Signed, Gay.”
Clark County Sheriff: A Reign of Popularity and Defiance
In the early days of Clark County, Sam’s “office” was merely a desk tucked into a corner of the town hall, which he shared with the local library. The city lock-up, or “calaboose,” made of sheet metal and railroad ties, stood on First Street. The easygoing lawman preferred to settle minor infractions with minimal fuss, making few arrests as serious crime was rare. His friends believed he should have been the county’s first sheriff in 1909. However, the governor-appointed commissioners selected Charles Corkhill, a Democrat and former editor of the Las Vegas Age, over the Republican Gay.
Sam Gay served as Corkhill’s deputy for a few months, but tensions soon arose. One scorching day in 1910, concerned by the 120-degree heat in his lock-up, Sam defied Corkhill’s orders. He chained the sweltering prisoners together, marched them to the old Las Vegas Ranch, and chained them to a cottonwood tree by the creek bank. A furious Corkhill promptly fired him.
The following year, when appointed county officers faced election, Sam ran against Corkhill on the Republican ticket and won overwhelmingly. This was particularly remarkable given that it was a strong Democratic year in Nevada. If Sam Gay had but one claim to fame, it was his extraordinary ability to hold the sheriff’s office for two decades, continuously defeating Democratic challengers in a predominantly Democratic county. Voters often traveled hundreds of miles to cast their ballots for him, a testament to his immense popularity and trustworthiness.
Beyond the county seat, Sam diligently served his constituents across the vast region. Two or three times a year, he would hitch up his buckboard and visit outlying precincts in El Dorado Canyon, Searchlight, Goodsprings, and the Moapa and Virgin Valleys. Otherwise, delegating administrative tasks to a deputy, Sam spent his days on Fremont Street, rightly believing that eventually, everyone in the county would pass through the main thoroughfare, offering him the chance to “chew the fat” and connect with the populace.
Political Feuds and Unwavering Loyalty
Despite his widespread popularity, Sam Gay acquired powerful adversaries, whom he collectively termed “The Courthouse Ring.” His primary antagonist was Judge Charles Lee Horsey. By 1914, their feud escalated to such a degree that the judge issued a bench warrant for Sam’s arrest, citing his delayed arrival when summoned to the judge’s office. Sam’s own deputy, Ray Lockett, was tasked with executing the warrant. Though initially outraged, Sam chose to comply peacefully, especially as Lockett marched him to court at gunpoint. The matter was swiftly resolved, and Sam was freed. He immediately fired Lockett and never forgave Judge Horsey for the humiliation.
Sam then hired Joe Keate, a well-known figure across the county, as his new deputy. Keate was fiercely loyal to Sam and willing to execute his orders without question. However, Sam soon found himself in increasing difficulty with District Attorney A.S. “Bart” Henderson, elected in 1914, who quickly aligned himself with the anti-Sam Gay faction. In 1916, a month before the election, Deputy Keate faced scandal when charged with violating a state law against gambling passed in 1909. Henderson established that Keate not only permitted a game of stud poker but participated himself. Sam was forced to remove Keate from office. Nevertheless, Sam won the election by an astounding margin of more than two to one. The very next day, he defiantly reinstated Keate as deputy, a clear message regarding his disdain for the D.A.’s actions against gamblers.
The courthouse feud intensified. In the summer of 1917, during a Justice court trial, Keate was fined for contempt of court by Justice of the Peace Bob Harkins. Enraged, Keate returned with another gun and interrupted the trial by tossing the weapon to Harkins, challenging him to defend himself. When D.A. Henderson attempted to intervene, Keate leveled his gun at Henderson, ordering him to stay out of the argument. Sam Gay, observing the entire spectacle, ignored Henderson’s demand to arrest his deputy. After a tense moment, Sam calmly took his deputy by the arm, and they departed. The following day, Henderson appeared before Judge Horsey, charging Sam with “nonfeasance of office” and demanding his removal. The court concurred, and Sam was once again stripped of his position.
The 1918 election proved to be the most acrimonious of Sam’s career, rife with mud-slinging and rumor-mongering. Sam actively campaigned for Henderson’s opponent, A.J. Stebenne, a man he barely knew. The result was a landslide victory for Sam Gay, and as a beneficial side effect, Henderson was defeated by the relatively unknown Stebenne, largely due to Sam Gay’s influential backing.
Retirement and a Lasting Legacy
In 1930, Sam Gay announced his retirement, steadfastly refusing all attempts to coax him back into office. He explained his decision with characteristic frankness: “I’m used to tough hombres who shot each other up once in a while. I’m used to gunfights. But I ain’t much good running down racketeers. My notions are too old-fashioned. You can’t deal with these new gunmen with a single-action .45. Need a machine gun. I’m too old to learn to run one, so I quit.” He also observed that the little town of Las Vegas was rapidly changing; Fremont Street was filled with too many unfamiliar faces, and Sam couldn’t trust “strangers to vote right.” Three of his former deputies subsequently filed for office to succeed him, with Joe Keate ultimately winning the election.
By 1932, Sam’s retirement and advancing age had mellowed much of the bitterness from his heart. In early summer, he sought out old enemies, including Ed Clark and Judge Horsey, to shake hands and make peace. The old lawman embarked on a trip to California in August, where he over-exerted himself running for a streetcar. Upon his return, he was admitted to the Las Vegas Hospital for rest and observation. A week later, on August 24, 1932, at 6:39 am, a sudden heart attack claimed his life at the age of 72.
Three days later, on a Saturday afternoon, an immense crowd of friends and admirers from across the region gathered for his services at the Elks Lodge. No venue in town was large enough to accommodate everyone, so the service was moved to the courthouse lawn, beneath the shade trees that Sam Gay himself had helped plant nearly two decades earlier. Since his death, numerous legends have grown around him; those who knew him idolized him, and those who consistently elected him believed he could do no wrong. While some may argue otherwise, all must acknowledge his unique distinction as one of the few Republicans in a Democratic Nevada who never lost an election, remaining the most popular public servant of his time.
