This momentous event took place on Saturday 20th and Sunday 21st September 1986 at the annual wargames event Armageddon organised by the Reading and Newbury Wargames clubs - one of the premier, if not the premier, wargames events in Britain. By way of explanation of what the Steve Curtis Memorial Trophy is all about, a copy of Don Featherstone's editorial in the sadly missed Wargamers Newsletter is reproduced with this article. It is fairly self explanatory and the prose is Don at his most purple, telling the whole sad, sad story. As a direct result of that editorial the Steve Curtis Memorial Trophy (SCMT) came into being, set up by the subscriptions sent in to the Newsletter. Ian Colwill and I, with a number of other stalwarts, have organised the Trophy games every year since 1976 and developed into a group of very good friends who form the loose knit group known as Skirmish Wargames. The first SCMT game was at Southern Militaire and after various venue changes we gladly accepted Trevor Halsall's invitation to stage the Championship at Armageddon and we have done so with great success every year since. 1986 marked the 10th anniversary of the Trophy and we wanted to make it a very special event. Over the years we have had many contestants, some of whom have taken part on only one occasion and some of whom have been involved almost every year since the start. What we wanted to do was to put out a call to all those past contestants -- whether they were knocked out in the sudden-death shootouts we use to get the numbers down to 8 for the quarter finals or whether they were actual winners. We wanted them to come along to Armageddon in Reading and take part in the Championship again in its 10th anniversary year and hopefully make a weekend of it as we always do, staying overnight in a hotel in Reading, so they could join in the celebratory meal, down a beer or three and swap yarns about the good old days! One thing which had changed since those early days in 1976 was that we now tackle the Trophy game quite differently. Instead of a series of Sudden Death Shootouts to get the numbers down to 8 for quarter finals, then semi finals and a final, there is only one large game. How is a winner chosen, you ask? This is the clever bit - he (or she, but we have never had one) is decided by vote amongst the players, on the basis of who played closest to the spirit of the Old West and the way Steve, Old Long Hair Hisself, played. The game is relaxed and friendly as a result - and most unlike the usual championship game. Perhaps it is an idea other competitive event organisers could usefully adopt! It also means that we do not haveto resort to the Shootouts which depended entirely on lucky dice throwing and in which very good players could be eliminated by novices who did not even know the rules. Talking of rules, I should say that we still use the Skirmish Wargames Old West Rules, though now the 2 part edition published for us by Newbury Rules. Whilst I can assure any old players that nothing fundamental has changed, i.e., the basic mechanics have not altered, we have made a number of what we consider to be major improvements to their playability and hence the fun that can be had with them. I am pleased to report that the rules are now on sale again in the US, so watch out for our advertisements. INVITATION TO A GUNFIGHT! This was the scenario that Ian and I decided upon for the 10th Anniversary Steve Curtis Memorial Trophy game. The decision had been made when Ian had finally made it to my place for a weekend, 5 years after we moved. We concluded, after mucho tequila, that what was needed was a game with some special element - and what could be more special than getting all known personal figures together in one tremendous shootout in true Long Hair style. So that was the set up - everyone was asked to bring their Old West alter ego, all ready for a classic Main Street showdown. if they had any particularly evil gunmen who might have been hired by the other side they were asked to bring them too. As a special extra for this 10th Anniversary game we added Brian Povey's superb Bullet StrainerAward for the most wounded character. This takes the form of a cluster of real black powder pistol balls mounted on a rod on a polished wooden base and looks magnificent. The game itself was described in a flyer which was sent to all Skirmish Wargamers and a copy of which is included in this article. For readers unfamiliar with ourAnnals of Pima County I should explain. Pima County, New Mexico, is our mythical setting for most of our Old West game. We have it mapped out, with terrain, towns, ranches, Indian camps, etc., and we play a long, rambling "campaign" on its plains and mountains. It is not a campaign as many wargamers know it - we are likely to leap about in time, playing in 1876 in one game, then 1886 and then back to 1866, but games in the same chronological sequence match to each other and characters link through the stories. That is the other important thing about our games, they all have a strong story line which weaves characters, fictional and factual, in and out of the games. The description which goes with this article should give you the flavour of what I mean. Back to the SCMT game. The characters who answered Long Haired Steve Curtis's call for help were a pretty rough bunch, as they nearly included all the stalwarts of Skirmish Wargames. Alongside Long Haired Steve Curtis there was Reno O'Brian (Brian Povey), Doc (Mike) Bell, Duke (Wayne) Millard, Chiz (Ian) Chard, Curly (Neil) Coltman, Tex (Les) Tipping, Griz LeGrange (Andy Grainger), Crazy Chris (Felton) and of course the two oldest compadres, Kid (Ian) Colwill and Botch (Mike) Blake. The idea was that we would all step out on to Main Street more or less together but fickle fate had other ideas and what actually happened was a much more staccato staggering in of the various characters, leaving all the difficult stuff to Long Haired Steve Curtis and Reno. The story tells what happened, without even the names changed to protect the guilty! INVITATION TO A GUNFIGHT HOWDY AMIGO STOP YORE NEEDED CONGREGATION NMT STOP BE THERE AM SEPT 20 STOP BAD WINTER NEARLY RUINED ASSO STOP SULLIVAN AND DUVALIERS IN CAHOOTS STOP THEY ARE BARBWIRING RANGE STOP WE MUST STOP THEM STOP ALL COMPAnDnES MEETING 20 SEPT STOP DONT LET ME DOWN STOP SHOULD BE ONE HELLA7A FIGHT STOP ADIOS STOP LONG HAIR STOP WELLS FARGO LOOKOUT NMT AUG 25 1886 This telegram went out to the last known addresses of all his friends, calling them to a showdown with the Pima County cattle baron Ed Sullivan. After the disastrous hard winter of 1885 the small ranchers, Long Hair amongst them, were all but ruined. Banded together in ASSO (Association of Small Stock Owners) they had struggled on over the years but now they were finally losing the battle against Sullivan, with his much greater resources and finances - including having the law in his pocket. The final blow had come when the powerful Duvalier clan, who owned and ran Congregation (the town through which all cattle was shipped East) threw in with Sullivan when they saw that the ASSO were beaten. Sullivan's latest move had them whipped - he was barbwire fencing the range, denying ASSO cattle access to water and the better grazing. both sides knew that the time for a final showdown had come! We did not have a tintype of Congregation in the files but this view of Little Bend in Pima County will give the reader a feel of the kind of town in which the shootout occurred. Long Hair had become, reluctantly, the rallying point for the ASSO. His strength and determination to keep his Lazy B stud ranch from going under kept the others from selling out, but Steve's funds were running low and even he could not get through another winter, especially one as cold as the last. So, in desperation, he had decided to call in all the favours he had ever been owed and settle it in the only way he knew how - by calling Sullivan out for one last fight! Having no funds to hire guns he sent out a plea to all his old compadres all over the country. He knew they would answer his call - from friendship and for the chance of a damn good fight! Without waiting for any responses to his telegram he threw down the gauntlet to Sullivan and the Duvaliers. He challenged them to be in Congregation on Sept. 20, ready to fight for what they claimed was theirs - the whole of the grazing in Pima County! He knew they would be there, too, because they were proud families and they would see that this was the right way to end the business once and for all. Long Hair sure hoped there would be someone he could rely on standing alongside of him when he strode out on to Main Street on Sept. 20 -- and heard that dog far off somewhere bark one more time! As the big man stepped out of the bordello door he screwed up his eyes at the searing midday sun. LH pulled the half hunter from his waistcoat and squinted at it. It was one minute to noon. "Not one o' the sons o'bitches!" he cursed as he looked round the dusty square. Pausing only to direct a stream of tobacco juice at a mongrel, which scurried off, he turned on his heel to face towards the American part of town. Not only had none of the ASSO ranchers turned up when the chips were down but even his so-called friends had failed him. "God damn never should o' trusted the Kid, damn Yankee, but Botch - a so-called Southren gen'leman... God damn!" And as if on cue... somewhere far off a dog barked... As he faced across the plaza in front of the bordello LH got his first sight of Sullivan and his boys forming up across Main Street outside the Oriental Saloon. Beyond them he could just make out the Duvaliers and their henchmen moving out of the Tough Nut Saloon. LH smiled wolfishly "There must be near on 20 o'them", he thought, "Hell, an'Ah thought it was agoin' to be a decent fight! Wargh! When Ah wuz fightin' down in Mexico 'gainst them Juaristas..." The second hand reaching the 12 and the chimes of noon cut through his train of thought. Noon, and the killing would soon begin. LH was about to stride on when a figure stumbled out of the bordello, desperately trying to buckle on a gunbelt and do up his flies at the same time. "I thought you could do with some help", he said, his handsome face splitting into a grin. LH looked at him for a second or two without recognition. The dapper individual with the fancy brocade waistcoat with his flies wide open looked familiar but he could not quite place him. Then he returned the grin. "Reno O'Brian, you old dawg, good t' see yuh." But there was no time for a reunion. The time had come for action and LH strode off, yelling back, "If'n you've a mind to join me, Reno, come right along." He did not catch most of Reno's reply along the lines of sure but where were the others and what was the plan? He heard the word plan and snapped, "Kill th'sons a'bitches, that's the plan!" without breaking pace. Reno had little alternative but to set off after LH's shadow. When LH hit Main Street he could see Sullivan and 4 of his boys strung out between the saloon and the stage. The driver, sensing trouble, dropped the harness and moved tothe safety of the Overland Stage Office, where the clerk was peering through a half-closed shutter. LH kept walking and failed to notice the 3 men dismounting off to his left. These were Duke Millard, Chiz Chard and Curley Coltman, arriving at last. Neither did he notice the noon train pulling in and 4 more of his old compadres descend from it, Crazy Chris Felton, Doc Bell, Kid Colwill and Botch Blake. All seven saw him and Reno, but were unaware of the Sullivans and Duvaliers on Main Street and so instead of cutting through the alleyways between the buildings on the west side of the street where they would have outflanked both groups of gunmen they headed towards Cross Street to join their two friends. This was, to say the least, unfortunate because it meant that they would reach the south end of Main St. way after LH and Reno had headed up it. All Steve's concentration was on the men ranged across the street in front of him. Sullivan was giving orders, probably telling them to hold their fire. He looked nervous and the abuse he hurled down the street at LH only confirmed the latter's assessment of his state of mind. "it wouldn't be Sullivan he made the first move, nor old Joe Walsh, his foreman on the left hand side of the line. No, it had to be one of the young ones with the low slung Colts", he thought. And he was right. Just as Reno was suggesting they wait till everyone else arrived, Buzz Sherman, the fresh faced kid, went for his gun. it was sheer panic. There were still over 20 yards between them. LH spat out another wad of shaw and drew both guns without checking his pace. With the smooth flow of a born gunfighter his guns cleared leather, were cocked and fired. The young cowboy died in that moment. It had begun - the final showdown. With an earsplitting Rebel yell, LH burst into a run and squeezed the triggers again. The effect was beyond belief. The line of cowboys disappeared. led Wilson, the young kid's buddy, stared at the body and then, wild with anger, started to run towards LH trying to work the lever on his Winchester carbine from the hip, with dire results. In his haste he over yanked the lever and jammed it. Before he even realised the fix he was in, LH shot his legs out from under him. The other cowboy, Tiny Little, froze, unsure of what to do. Sullivan snapped off a shot, worked the lever on his Winchester to reload and then collapsed, blood spurting from the hole that Reno's bullet had put in his chest. LH's next shot hit Little but he stayed on his feet, despite a serious body wound. Only one man, Joe Walsh, stood his ground. An old enemy of LH, he snapped off a shot at the burly figure charging down on him. He had the satisfaction of seeing his bullet knock the hat from Steve's head. The bullet cut a deep groove through LH's scalp and blood ran down into his left eye, but the wound just riled him, like a bee sting on a grizzly's backside! As LH came level with Little he used the barrel of his right hand gun to send the gunman crashing to the ground. As he began to holster the now empty gun a bullet smashed into his right arm, making him drop the pistol. Screaming defiance, he drew another pistol from his belt and rushed on, only vaguely aware that he was not alone. To his right Reno was firing to good effect and another figure had emerged behind him to his left. This was Duke, who had been the first to reach the corner of Main St. and join in the fight. His shot missed, so he charged Joe Walsh with the intention of knocking him down. Unfortunately, he tripped and fell sprawling off the sidewalk at the cowboy's feet. He was saved by a shot from Crazy Chris as he too, at last, reached Main St. and, seeing the predicament Duke was in, saved his bacon by drilling Walsh as he stood over Duke about to plug him at point blank range. Sullivan's boys waiting on Main St., Congregation, Sept. 1886. The others, hearing the gunfire had, belatedly, started to head for the alleys to get onto Main St. faster. Duke as, unfortunately, not the only one who was feeling a mite clumsy that day. Rushing out of one alley, Doc Bell and Botch Blake crashed into Curly Coltman as he emerged from another, sending him sprawling in the dust. There were some developments at the northern end of the street too, however. The two remaining old friends of LH who he had telegraphed, Ted Tipping and Griz LeGrange, had arrived in town, separately, the night before and each had independently decided on something other than joining LH in a shootout. We will rejoin them in a moment or two. LH was now beyond the line of Sullivan's cowboys, barely aware that other shots had rung out with his own and laid them out. Now he was seeking out the Duvaliers. Ahead of him he saw a tall figure in a frock coat he recognised as Rene, the dark, satanic eldest son. Rene knelt and levelled a LeMat revolver straight at Steve. Both Steve's guns blazed as he rushed at the other man. A bullet tore at LH's body and another dug deep into his leg. He staggered on, regained his balance, yelled an oath, and fired. He had the satisfaction of seeing Rene Duvalier keel over. There were 4 men over to the right by the Alligator Saloon and LH now turned his attention to them. As he approached, 2 of them were shot by his companeros, but the 2 remaining turned their guns on Steve. One had a double barrelled shotgun, the other aimed his pistol. LH gambled on them expecting him to halt or evade. He did neither. Throwing down his now empty left hand gun, he grabbed at the shotgun. His luck was running out. He missed, but he did managed to knock the barrels so that the lethal load tore harmlessly into the dirt at his feet. His right hand gun came up to fire at the man aiming at him. In the same instant both men fired. At pointblank range the bullets could not miss. LH felt the searing pain as the slug tore into his chest, but managed a grim smile as he saw his opponent was mortally wounded. Duke, from his prone position, spotted Sullivan, also lying in the dirt. Levelling the pistol he had managed to keep hold of when he tumbled, he aimed at the rancher. As he did so he realised that Sullivan was doing exactly the same thing to him. Both fired in the same instant and each suffered a serious body wound! Further up the street, LH, bleeding badly now, turned his pistol on the guy with the shotgun but never pulled the trigger. The earth shook and the gunman hurtled into LH, knocking him to the ground. For a moment or two LH struggled to free himself from the other's dead embrace, but then found himself fighting against an inky blackness that was cutting out the world. "Hell", he thought, "if this is death it sure is a real sh ....... What had caused the explosion? Back to the night before for the explanation. Seeing the size of the opposition's forces, Tex had decided to hide in the old cabin at the north of the Tough Nut Saloon. As always, he had with him a little surprise for the Duvaliers, in the form of some dynamite. just before noon he had slipped out and was waiting, unseen but watching, on the corner of the saloon when the gun began. Silently he waited for just the right moment to join in. Griz, on the other hand, had actually stayed in the Tough Nut and spent the night gambling on the Duvaliers' green baize - and winning, too. Relying on the fact that no one in Congregation knew him he gained the Duvaliers' confidence and was hired by them to side with them in the gunfight with UH and the ASSO! So it was that he was one of the gunmen on Main St. facing LH and Reno, keeping back and also waiting for the right moment to show his hand. It came as LH bore down on the Duvaliers and their hired guns. From behind them he opened up, spreading confusion and consternation. Reno had recognised Griz and UH had gone down before he could turn his guns on him, which was just as well as in his enraged state with blood in his eyes it is unlikely that he would have been able to see who it was with the enemy. Tex had intended the dynamite to go off sooner, but had trouble lighting the fuze and so like all the help Long Haired Steve got that day it was a mite late! It finished the fight, though, and all that was left to the rest of the compadres to do was round up the survivors and either run them out of town or have a doctor tend their wounds. LH came first for the latter, of course, and despite wounds that would have killed a lesser man was soon sitting up in a bed in the Duvaliers' suite in the Tough Nut and holding forth, with all his old friends gathered round. "Fight? Fight? Call that a fight? Wargh! ' Hell an'tarnation Ah've hed more trouble with a blanket full a'bedbugs! Now, the time Chaco en his cutthroat Commanceros hit Salt Flats, now thet wuz a fight ....... That was a Trophy Game Well, there you have it - the 10th Anniversary Steve Curtis Memorial Trophy game and a very different one to the one I had imagined it would be. It might be worth looking at just why. Firstly, I think, because I had taken it as read that we would all line up across Main St. together at the start, but the others had had different ideas. They felt that we had to decide independently where we were and how we arrived. This resulted in us being scattered all over town. Next our moves to join LH were also, unco-ordinated and this was directly attributed to the Control Rules (more on these another time, perhaps) which ensured that each character acted independently rather than exactly how the player wanted them. This is great fun and certainly takes the predictability out of games! What this meant was that LH had to charge up Main St. alone, apart from Reno of course, for most of the game. This would have meant sure death for him had it not been for 2 important points. Firstly, the Control Rules again, which meant that the Sullivans and the Duvaliers acted with no more co-ordination than "we" did (actually we were handling both sides, which with the Control Rules can be done) thereby allowing enough mistakes, inaction and downright wrong moves for LH to survive for as long as he did. And the other reason? Well, LH has a unique Ability Rating -- Hero! You will not find that in the Rules because it was created just for him, after he died. What it means that all light wounds are ignored, all serious wounds count as light and dead counts as a serious body wound. This makes ol' Long Hair a pretty formidable opponent and almost unstoppable when riled. The final question I guess you are asking is just who did win the trophy? "'ell really it was Steve, of course, for both prizes, but we figured the organisers would be somewhat taken aback for him to win his own memorial game so we voted on it. The clear winner was Reno O'Brian, or rather Brian Povey, for his gallant charge up Main St. behind LH and in the face of tremendous odds. So Brian's name will be added to the Roll of Honour on the Trophy for 1986. The Bullet Strainer Award went to Andy Grainger, who, asGriz LeGrange, was shot twice by the Duvalier gunmen. Despite one of the bullets being in the back, he was on his feet at the end of the game. That night the hotel restaurant echoed to the sound of imaginary gunshots and we all joined in, with special poignancy, the toast we hd made every year for the last 10 - "Absent Friends!" If any readers have an interest in the Old West and in Old West Skirmishes, then we would be delighted to hear from them. We, Skirmish Wargames, do produce an occasional newsletter of our exploits, future events, rules ideas and chat. The sub is modest and anyone who is interested is welcome to subscribe. Write to meat The Moorings, Middle Lane, What stand well, Matlock, Derbyshire, DE5 4RG, UK. The Editor has kindly (foolishly?) asked me to send in some more stuff on Skirmish Wargaming, so watch this space! Don Featherstone: Obit for Curtis Back to Table of Contents -- Courier Vol. VII #6 To Courier List of Issues To MagWeb Master Magazine List © Copyright 1987 by The Courier Publishing Company. This article appears in MagWeb (Magazine Web) on the Internet World Wide Web. Other military history articles and gaming articles are available at http://www.magweb.com