In the annals of the American Old West, few figures were as cunning and audacious as Jefferson Randolph “Soapy” Smith, a name synonymous with elaborate cons and a sprawling criminal enterprise. This notorious con man, operating across Texas, Colorado, and Alaska, masterminded a vast network of bunko artists who perfected shell games, crooked gambling, and a myriad of other schemes, leaving a trail of duped prospectors and unsuspecting citizens in his wake. From his early days in Texas to his final, dramatic confrontation in Skagway, Smith’s life exemplifies the chaotic and opportunistic spirit of the frontier.
Born on November 2, 1860, in Newnan, Georgia, Jefferson Randolph Smith II hailed from an affluent, well-educated family. His great-grandfather owned a prominent plantation, and his father was a lawyer, a stark contrast to the life of crime Smith would later embrace. However, the family’s prosperity waned significantly following the devastation of the Civil War, forcing them to adapt to a changing world.
The Rise of a Rogue: From Georgia to the “Prize Package Soap Sell”
In 1876, Smith’s family relocated to Round Rock, Texas. It was here, as an 18-year-old, that Soapy Smith witnessed the dramatic killing of outlaw Sam Bass, an event that may have subtly influenced his perception of law and order. Shortly thereafter, Smith moved to Fort Worth, where he embarked on his illustrious career as a bunko artist. He quickly assembled a tight-knit crew of rogues and thieves, transforming into the undisputed “King of the Frontier Con Men.” His gang moved stealthily from town to town, preying on travelers with quick-hit cons like the shell game and three-card monte.
By the late 1870s, Smith devised his most ingenious and enduring swindle: the “Prize Package Soap Sell.” This innovative scam allowed him to fleece large crowds, ultimately earning him the indelible nickname “Soapy.” The con began with Smith setting up a portable tripod stand, or “Keiser,” on a bustling street corner. On this stand, he would display ordinary bars of soap, deceptively wrapped in plain paper. As a crowd gathered, he would theatrically wrap some bars with real paper money – denominations ranging from one dollar to a hundred dollars – before rewrapping them in plain paper and mixing them with the others. He would then sell these bars for $1-5 each.
Crucially, Smith always had a “shill” planted in the crowd, who would eagerly buy a bar, open it to feign surprise and delight at finding a $100 bill. This carefully staged performance would ignite a frenzy among onlookers, eager to win their own fortune. Of course, their purchased bars contained nothing more than a 5¢ cake of soap. For the next two decades, Smith replicated this swindle with remarkable and lucrative success across the American West.
Denver’s Underworld Boss: Soapy Smith’s Reign
Establishing an Empire in the Mile-High City
By 1879, Soapy Smith and his formidable gang had established themselves in Denver, Colorado. Here, Smith dramatically expanded his operations, moving beyond simple street cons to more elaborate schemes, including fake stock exchanges and lottery offices. Denver, with its liberal stance on gambling, proved to be the perfect environment for his deceitful games to flourish. As money poured into his coffers, Smith meticulously organized the city’s various criminal elements, eventually proclaiming himself the undisputed boss of Denver’s burgeoning underworld empire.
To safeguard and expand his criminal enterprises, Smith implemented a sophisticated system of kickbacks to saloon owners and placed city officials, including police, on his payroll. His strategy was to target transients and visitors rather than local residents, which helped maintain a degree of public tolerance. Smith also cultivated loyalty among his gang members, ensuring their swift release from jail and providing assistance when needed. Furthermore, he shrewdly contributed to local churches and charities, and even offered his saloons for Sunday services, cunningly endearing himself to segments of the local population and burnishing his image as a local benefactor.
Much of Soapy’s Denver operations were centered at his popular Tivoli Saloon and Gambling Hall. Over its entrance, a sign famously declared: “Caveat Emptor,” Latin for “Let the Buyer Beware.” Irony was not lost on Smith, even if his unsuspecting patrons, many of whom could not read Latin, were oblivious to its warning. The Tivoli even boasted the temporary employment of the legendary Bat Masterson as a dealer.
Expansion and Internal Challenges
During his time in Denver, Soapy was joined by his younger brother, Bascomb, who managed a cigar store that served as a front for rigged card games and other swindles. The gang diversified further, running a bogus stock exchange, multiple lottery shops, and fraudulent diamond auctions. For several years, Smith made Denver his unchallenged stronghold. Despite local newspapers openly accusing him of controlling the city’s criminal and gambling scene and being in league with corrupt politicians and even the police chief, his operations continued to thrive.
While Denver remained his primary base, Soapy also expanded his influence to other booming areas. In 1885, he partnered with another con artist known only as “Old Man Taylor” in Leadville, Colorado, where they successfully operated shell games targeting the many unsuspecting miners.
In 1891, Smith even convinced his law-abiding brother-in-law, William “Cap” Light, a former deputy marshal from Belton, Texas, to join his criminal enterprise. Light’s transition from law enforcement to outlaw was complete when he participated in the gang’s audacious “attack” on the Glasson Detective Agency. This raid, ostensibly in response to the agency’s alleged attempt to coerce a confession from a young woman, further cemented Smith’s reputation as a hero among many locals.
The Decline in Denver
By 1892, however, Denver’s “polite society” began demanding stricter anti-gambling and saloon reforms. Smith’s iron grip on Denver’s underworld also started to weaken, partly due to intensifying rivalry from gangs like the Blonger Brothers, but also increasingly because of his escalating drinking problem and notorious bad temper. His widespread fame made it progressively difficult for his paid politicians to continue ignoring his activities, signaling a shift in the city’s tolerance.
The Creede Interlude and the City Hall War
A Brief Escape to Creede
Facing growing restrictions in Denver, Soapy Smith spotted a new opportunity in the burgeoning mining camp of Creede, Colorado. He and his gang quickly relocated their operations, opening the Orleans Club gambling hall and saloon. This establishment mirrored his Tivoli Club in Denver but operated without the same level of scrutiny. At the Orleans Club, Smith even briefly exhibited a “petrified man,” affectionately named “McGinty,” for a 10¢ fee. This “McGinty” was, in reality, a hoax – cement covering skeletal remains – but it effectively drew customers into the saloon, who were then exposed to his rigged card games. During this period, he also influenced his brother-in-law, William “Cap” Light, to become a deputy marshal in Creede, further consolidating his power and claiming himself as the “camp boss.” Again, Smith used his wealth to build churches and assist the poor, maintaining his veneer of philanthropy. However, Creede’s boomtown days were short-lived, leading Smith to eventually return to Denver, where gambling reforms had, once again, relaxed, allowing the Tivoli to resume its full operations.
The Denver City Hall War of 1894
Despite the persistent organized crime in Denver, a new era began with the election of Governor Davis H. “Bloody Bridles” Waite in January 1893. Running on a robust platform of social reform, Waite immediately launched investigations into corruption across Colorado. By March of the following year, he was ready to dismantle Denver’s entrenched political machine. He initiated this by firing three members of the fire and police board, whom he identified as key instigators of corruption, and demanded a city-wide cleanup.
When Waite appointed his replacements, the incumbent commissioners defiantly refused to vacate their positions. The state charter, while granting the governor appointment powers, did not explicitly empower him to force a municipal government to accept these appointments. Other corrupt city officials, fearing for their own posts, rallied behind the current commissioners, collectively refusing to yield their authority. The city even secured a temporary injunction from the district court, prohibiting the governor from interfering. Governor Waite and his legal team, however, contended that the state’s chief executive was not subject to district court review. Undeterred, Waite threatened to deploy the state militia to enforce his demands.
In response, Denver’s mayor began recruiting a “special police force” to defend city hall against any gubernatorial military action. This formidable political force, generously funded and supported by the city’s organized crime elements, including Soapy Smith and Lou Blonger, swiftly swelled to approximately 200 unsavory “deputies.” The command of this private army was entrusted to none other than Soapy Smith, who now proudly held the title of “Colonel Smith.”
As armed figures guarded city hall, Governor Waite issued orders for the Colorado State Militia to forcibly remove the commissioners. By mid-March, Waite had declared martial law, transforming Denver into an armed encampment. His military force, comprising about 200 men, marched downtown, accompanied by two Gatling guns and two twelve-pound cannons. These imposing weapons were aimed directly at city hall, where they faced Smith’s “special police force,” armed with rifles and shotguns. With “Colonel Smith” at their head, the “police force” audaciously dared the militia to open fire, threatening to use dynamite if attacked.
A tense standoff ensued, with thousands of civilians watching in disbelief. Meanwhile, the Chamber of Commerce and various citizens’ committees worked tirelessly to broker a compromise, aiming to avert bloodshed. Ultimately, an agreement was reached: the dispute would be referred to the State Supreme Court. Waite then withdrew his military forces, and Denver collectively breathed a sigh of relief.
On April 16, 1894, the Supreme Court delivered a decisive victory for Governor Davis Waite, and the corrupt board of commissioners was replaced the very next day. This marked the smashing of Denver’s political machine, and new policies were almost immediately implemented to clean up the city. Gambling was outlawed, and authorities launched a severe crackdown on other illicit activities, including prostitution, bootlegging, and various bunko schemes. A top priority for the new administration was to drive Soapy Smith out of town. While Smith attempted to move his operations underground, he and his brother, Bascomb, were soon charged with the attempted murder of a saloon manager. Bascomb was arrested and jailed, but Soapy managed to escape, becoming a wanted man in Colorado and eventually heading westward. The Blonger Brothers subsequently assumed control of the Denver underworld.
The Final Act in Skagway, Alaska
The Klondike Gold Rush of 1897 presented a fresh wave of opportunities for Smith, who quickly established his new base in Skagway, Alaska. True to form, it didn’t take long for him to assert himself as the town’s “boss,” ruling with an iron hand from his saloon, Jeff Smith’s Parlor. His cons restarted with renewed vigor, and his saloon soon earned the moniker of “the real city hall,” overshadowing the official municipal government. However, not all Skagway citizens were enamored with Soapy; his heavy drinking and increasingly volatile temper began to spin out of control.
Eventually, a group of fed-up Skagway citizens formed a vigilante organization known as the “Committee of 101,” threatening to expel Smith and his gang. Soapy retaliated by assembling his own group, claiming over 300 members, and successfully intimidated the vigilantes into submission. When the Spanish-American War broke out in 1898, Smith shrewdly formed a voluntary militia, the Skagway Military Company, with the approval of the U.S. War Department. As its captain, he further solidified his control over the town.
Despite this, the vigilante group remained vigilant. Their resolve hardened when Smith’s gang swindled a Klondike miner out of $2,600 in gold during a crooked three-card monte game. The vigilantes re-emerged, demanding the return of the gold. Soapy, predictably, refused, insisting the miner had lost “fairly” in a game of chance. The following night, on July 8, 1898, the vigilantes held a public meeting in Skagway. Soapy, armed with a Winchester rifle, decided to attend but was barred from entry by one of four guards, Frank Reid.
A deadly gunfight erupted between Smith and Reid. When the smoke cleared, both men lay dead. Soapy Smith’s reported last words were: “My God, don’t shoot!” Subsequent investigations revealed that another guard had also shot Smith. Three other members of Smith’s gang involved in the miner’s robbery received jail sentences, and the rest of his once-powerful syndicate soon disbanded.
Soapy Smith was laid to rest just outside the city cemetery. Today, his grave and his infamous saloon, since relocated from its original spot, remain significant historical landmarks in Skagway, serving as tangible reminders of a con man who, for a time, was a true king of the American frontier.
