Today, Milton, California, is a small sparsely populated unincorporated community in Calaveras County. Some call it a "ghost town," but in reality, most don't really pay it much mind at all when driving pass it or going to the nearby county landfill.
The highest elevation in Calaveras County is Corral Hollow Hill, also referred to as Corral Ridge, which reaches a peak elevation of 8,170 feet. Milton sits at an elevation of 394 feet which makes it sit at the lowest end of the county. That's important since Milton was the first town in Calaveras County to have a railroad.
In fact, Milton was established in 1871 when the Stockton and Copperopolis Railroad, later a branch of the Southern Pacific Railroad, completed its line there. Milton was used by freight wagons and travelers as a staging point before continuing their way upcountry to other parts of Calaveras County by wagon and stagecoach from Milton. It became a crucial shipping point for cargo, cattle, and passengers traveling to and from Calaveras County.
The town was named for Milton Latham. He has been reported to be a railroad engineer, but I've read where he was also a railroad financier. In 1871, the people of Milton named their settlement after him. But, instead of naming their settlement Latham, using his last name, they used his first name instead.
In 1873, a tornado nearly destroyed the town. In 1875, a fire is said to have done what the tornado couldn't by almost wiping out the town completely. The town had a post office that was built in 1871, but it closed in 1942. As for the Keystone Masonic Lodge hall, it mysteriously burned down in 2016.
Today, other than their well maintained pioneer graveyard, there simply isn't much of the original town left there. As I said before, it can be called a "ghost town." In reality, most don't really pay much mind to Milton when driving pass it or going to the nearby county landfill. Other than a few cattle ranches in the area, there's not a lot there.
The Milton Stage Robbery of 1894
On May 19, 1894, just outside of Milton, a highwayman wearing mask stopped the stage from Angels Camp. As the stage slowed around a bend, the masked man simply stepped out from the brush pointing a shotgun at the lead horses. He didn't know it, but that was the last day of his life.
The bandit didn't know that part-time Wells Fargo guard William Hendricks was riding inside the stagecoach on its 20-mile route from Angels Camp to Milton. Hendricks decided to ride on the inside of the coach to give it the appearance of not carrying a gold shipment. Hendricks actually switched places with passenger Lillie Stowell of Angels Camp who wanted to sit atop the stage beside driver Fred Wesson.
Besides William Hendricks, inside the coach were passengers Emil Mohr, T.T. Hume, and George Pierce, along with two teenage girls, Marie Bonney and a young lady only identified as "Miss Bray.".
It was reported that before the bandit could open his mouth to demand whatever payroll the coach may have been carrying, one of the teenage girls shouted, "There is a robber!"
With that, Wells Fargo guard William Hendricks, who was sitting in a middle seat, stuck his 12-gauge shotgun out the coach window and cut loose with a single barrel at the masked robber. The shot stuck the masked bandit and knocked him to the ground. As he hit the ground, the bandit's own shotgun went off. Its blast went wild not hitting the coach, the horses, the stage driver, or Lillie Stowell sitting next to the driver.
Stage driver Fred Wesson worked to get the horses under control as the coach sped away. It was at that moment that a second robber on the opposite side of the road, opened fired at the coach. One of his rounds struck one of the teenage passengers, Marie Bonney, in the face and neck. Another of the second robber's rounds hit passenger T.T. Hume in the shoulder. While Hume's wound was seen as a minor shoulder wound, Marie Bonney was in serious trouble.
Fred Wesson finally got the horses under control and stopped the coach, he climbed down to find Hendricks applying pressure to Marie Bonney's to stop the bleeding. Hendricks told Wesson that she needed help fast, so Wesson climbed back up on the stage and quickly drove the stagecoach to a nearby ranch.
Marie Bonney's wounds were considered so serious that the ranch owner had his hands put her in a wagon and return her to Angels Camp to get her to a doctor and get proper medical treatment. One report on Marie Bonney said that she wasn't expected to survive, while another said she would eventually recover. As for T.T. Hume, they bandaged his wound at the ranch and he made the rest of the run on that stage to Stockton. And yes, in case you're wondering, supposedly, he also recovered.
One report said that the ranch owner rode back to the site of the robbery, and found the dead bandit. He was described as be "riddled with buckshot from the sole of his right foot to the top of his head."
As John Keener of Visalia? Soon after he was identified, his brother Henry came forward to say that he read about the robbery attempt in the newspapers. Henry then assisted the authorities with information of the his brother's friend Willian Dowdle who was by then thought to be the second bandit. The bandit who opened fire on the stage after the horses bolted.
Dowdle caught him weeks later when they found him hiding in a chicken coop. Dowdle admitted to being an John Keener's accomplice, and he named a third member of their gang, but was not there when Keener and Dowdle tried to rob the Milton stage. His name was Amos Bierer. After authorities arrested him in Angels Camp, both Dowdle and Bierer ended up in the Calaveras County Jail.
Dowdle and Bierer stood trial in Calaveras County on charges of assault with the intent to commit robbery. Each of them was convicted and sentenced to 14 years in Folsom State Prison. They both served 8 years before each were paroled.
As for it being considered a "missed opportunity" for the bandits? It was later reported that there was $80,000 in gold aboard that coach. That would have been quite the haul in 1894.
As for William Hendricks, he was given a full time job with Wells Fargo and the majority of the public applauded him as a hero for his actions. Of course, as with things today, back then there were also know-it-all folks with 20/20 hindsight who wanted to tell others how they would have done things differently if they were in someone else's place.
In the case of the Milton stage robbery, there were a few folks who believed the masked man should have been taken alive. Their argument was that the masked man could have been more useful if taken alive because he could have led authorities to catch the others. Because of that, there are some who say the 1894 Milton stage robbery was a "missed opportunity" for law enforcement.
So instead of complete appreciation for what he did, there were those who tried to say that Wells Fargo expressman William Hendricks shot too quickly. They tried to say that he acted too fast, was too quick on the trigger, and instead should have waited for the entire gang to show itself.
Imagine that for a moment. As dumb as that sounds, there were people at the time who said that he should have waited until all of the outlaws, no matter how much they would have outnumbered Hendricks, were altogether. They assumed that because the bandit was not taken alive and his accomplices were not caught, that Wells Fargo detectives and law enforcement missed an opportunity to break up "a major criminal gang." Of course, there was no "major criminal gang." There were a lot of independent outlaws operating in the area, but there wasn't an organized criminal gang there. And as for Keener and Dowdle, that robbery appears to have been their first and last attempted stagecoach hold up. That's good, because they weren't very good at it.
As for the guard's actions, this is how I see it. William Hendricks took out a threat when it presented itself. Instead of waiting for that threat to grow in numbers to where there would be even more of a chance of unintended death or injury to the passengers, Hendricks did exactly as he should have. As an armed guard, he lowered the odds by taking out the armed masked man immediately.
In all of my training, I've learned that taking decisive action to neutralize an immediate threat can prevent a situation from escalating into a more dangerous, multi-adversary engagement. That's just a fact. So whether Hendricks understood it or not, what he did aligns with principles emphasizing the rapid isolation of threats.
By neutralizing the most immediate aggressor, an armed defender can mitigate the risk of being outflanked, overwhelmed, or trapped in a prolonged firefight. Stopping an adversary's momentum rather than waiting for them to establish an advantage, grow in numbers, or positioning is smart. It certainly was on the part of William Hendricks.
Back in the Old West, stagecoach guards deterred robberies through the visible deterrent and close-quarters firepower of double-barreled 12-gauge coach guns. Their tactics relied on immediate use of their shotguns to protect valuable shipments, passengers, and end threats quickly. William Hendricks did all of that.
Tom Correa
