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Pearl Hart: The Arizona Bandit

© Mary M. Alward

Hi, my name is Pearl Hart. I was born in Lindsay, Ontario, in 1817. My parents, who were middle class, sent me to finishing school when I was very young. Back then I was known as Pearl Taylor.

At the tender age of seventeen, I was seduced by gambler, Frederick Hart. We eloped and, in my youth, thought wedded bliss would follow us through life until we reached our "golden years." I was wrong.

I traveled with Fred to Chicago in 1893, to take in the Columbian Exposition. Fred became a barker for side shows. I worked at any job I could find to help bring in a little money. I loved the Wild West shows and was obsessed with the Old West. Foolish me believed all the tales about handsome cowboys, Indians, gold. Legends and heroes were the stuff my dreams were made of.

Fred was addicted to gambling. I breathed a sigh of relief when I left him and moved to Colorado. That is where my son was born. I took him home to Lindsay and left him with my mother.

When I left Canada, I went to Phoenix, Arizona. Can you imagine my disappointment when I discovered that the Old West, as I knew it, had disappeared? All the hoopla was mostly yarns and I fell for them.

In Phoenix I took a job in a café and took in laundry to supplement my income. It was a hard life and not to my liking. Even worse, Fred showed up. He wanted to get back together. I fell for it. He promised if I'd go back to him he'd get a real job - and he did for about three years. He was the manager and bartender of a hotel. Things were much better between us for a while - that is, until I found out I was pregnant. This time I gave birth to a daughter.

In 1898, Fred showed his dark side once more. He said he was tired of supporting me and the kid. Then, he took off to fight with Teddy Roosevelt's Rough Riders in Cuba.

I had no way of supporting myself and a kid, so I took her to my mother. Then, I returned to the American West and drifted from one mining camp to another. I worked as a cook in the camp. Talk about a rough life that was it. At least it was rough until I met Joe Boot, a miner, in 1899.