you know when we look back at the american west
we have these very specific um these really rigid
archetypes just locked in our brains right you've
got the stoic lawman the desperate outlaw the
you know the rugged cowboy it's almost like a
cast of characters from a play it really is but
then every so often you get this one figure who
just refuses to fit into any of those neat little
boxes and this might be the best example of that
it's a fascinating paradox i mean we are talking
about a man who is arguably the most famous gunfighter
in american history yet if you actually look
at his resume yeah he spent his Formative years
training to heal people, not, you know, put them
in the ground. Exactly. Yeah. We're talking about
the one and only Doc Holliday. And today we're
doing a deep dive into the life and legend of
the man born John Henry Holliday. And we've got
a massive stack of source material here. Biographies,
historical records, some of the Wikipedia deep
cuts. And the mission really is to figure out
who was this guy really. And to separate the
Hollywood myth from the historical reality. Which
is fantastic, by the way. I mean, Val Kilmer's
performance. Incredible. Iconic. But the reality
is actually so much more complex. It is. It isn't
just a Western shoot -em -up. It is a story about
terminal illness. It's about what a diagnosis
like tuberculosis does to a man's psychology.
And maybe most of all, it is a story about a
very specific, almost fatalistic kind of loyalty.
Okay, so let's unpack this. Because the image
I have in my head, the one we all have, is the
coughing, sweating, you know, the skeletal figure
spinning a tin cup. Right. But before he was
the nerviest, speediest, deadliest man with a
six -gun, he was just John. So let's go back
to the very beginning. Where does this story
actually start? It begins a long, long way from
the O .K. Corral. John Henry Holliday was born
on August 14th, 1851 in Griffin, Georgia. Georgia.
And this context is so important. He wasn't born
into a life of crime or poverty or anything like
that. He was, for lack of a better term, southern
gentry. So he had money. He came from a well
-off family. He had means and status, yeah. His
father, Henry Burroughs Holliday, was a major
in the Confederate Army during the Civil War.
Wow. He even served as the mayor of Valdosta,
Georgia for a time. So John Henry grows up in
this world of expectation. He was baptized at
the First Presbyterian Church. This was a very
respectable, very upright household. Which is
just such a stark contrast to the smoky saloons
we associate him with later. It's a different
world. And his education really reflects that
class status. He went to the Valdosta Institute
where he received a classical education. And
what did that actually mean back in the 1860s?
Well, it didn't just... mean reading and writing
we're talking about rhetoric grammar mathematics
history and languages principally latin but our
sources say he also studied french and even ancient
greek wait a minute so when we see him speaking
latin in the movies like in tombstone that's
actually historically accurate it is entirely
plausible yes that's not just a screenwriter
trying to make him sound smart not at all he
was a highly educated intellectual and he took
that intellect to philadelphia in 1870. At just
19 years old, he enrolled in the Pennsylvania
College of Dental Surgery. Which, I have to assume,
was a pretty prestigious thing to do at the time.
Oh, absolutely. This wasn't some back -alley
apprenticeship. This was rigorous medical training.
He wrote a thesis, for crying out loud. Oh, right.
The title was Diseases of the Teeth. He graduates
in March of 1872 with a doctor of dental surgery
degree. But here's a detail that I just love.
He was only 20 when he finished. So he was a
prodigy. Essentially, yeah. The school actually
had to hold on to his degree for five months
until he turned 21. Why? Because he was legally
too young to practice dentistry. That's amazing.
So you have this brilliant young man, degree
in hand, heading back to Georgia to start what
should have been a very respectable, very lucrative
life. He's got it all mapped out. He's going
to fix teeth, make good money, probably get married,
live a long life. Right. But then the tragedy
hits. And this seems to be the pivot point where
John Henry Holiday dies and Doc is born. This
is the tragedy that shaped everything. And to
understand it, you have to look at his family
history. His mother, Alice Jane, died of tuberculosis
or consumption, as they called it back then,
in 1866. Doc was just 15 years old. And they
were close. She was the center of his world.
And it didn't stop there. His adopted brother
also died of it. It was in many ways a family
curse. So it's always been there kind of hanging
over the family. Always. And then shortly after
he starts his dental practice in Atlanta, he
starts seeing the symptoms in himself. Oh, no.
Correct. Shortly after beginning his career,
the coughing starts. He gets diagnosed with pulmonary
tuberculosis, and the prognosis was just grim.
In 1873, doctors gave him only months to live.
Can you even imagine that? You're 22 years old.
You've just finished years of grueling school.
You're finally ready to launch your life, and
someone in a lab coat tells you, actually, it's
over. It changes everything about a person's
psychology, right? It just strips away any kind
of long -term planning. It forces you to live
in the immediate moment. The medical advice at
the time was pretty standard for the era. Move
to a drier, warmer climate. They thought the
arid air in the American Southwest might slow
the deterioration of his lungs. So that's what
sends him west. He packs up and heads for Dallas,
Texas. Okay, now before we get him to Texas,
I want to address a rumor that pops up a lot
in the lore. There's this story that he didn't
leave Georgia for his health, but because he
killed some men at a swimming hole. Right, the
Wiflikuchi River incident. This is a classic
example of Western myth -making. So what's the
story? The story goes, and this was largely popularized
by Bat Masterson in a profile he wrote years
later, that a 22 -year -old Holiday went to his
favorite swimming hole, found it occupied by
some black soldiers, flew into a rage, and killed
two of them with a shotgun. That paints him as
a violent killer right from the very start. But
our sources say, what? Not true. Almost certainly
not true. Family members disputed it at the time,
suggesting he might have fired over their heads
to scare them off. But he certainly didn't kill
anyone. But what about official records? That's
the key. Historians like Gary Roberts and Alan
Barra have combed the records. There is zero
contemporary evidence, no police reports, no
indictments, no newspaper articles, nothing.
So it's a tall tale. It's likely a fabrication
or just a wild exaggeration meant to burnish
his reputation as a bad man later on. The reality
is much, much sadder. He left because he was
dying. OK, so he lands in Dallas in 1873. And
here's where it gets really interesting for me.
He didn't just immediately become a gambler.
No. He actually tried to make the dentist thing
work in Texas. He did. He wasn't ready to give
up on his profession. He partnered with another
dentist, a Dr. Johnny Segar in Dallas. Were they
any good? They were great. This is the part people
completely forget. They entered the Dallas County
Fair, specifically the annual fair of the North
Texas Agricultural, Mechanical, and Bloodstock
Association. That is a mouthful. It is. But get
this, they swept the awards. I love this detail.
What specifically did they win? Okay, so they
won Best Set of Teeth in Gold, Best in Vulcanized
Rubber, and Best Set of Artificial Teeth in Dental
Wear. Best in Vulcanized Rubber. That is incredible.
So he was an award -winning dentist. He was at
the absolute top of his game. He was. But there
was a problem. The cough. The cough. Tuberculosis
involves coughing. Violent, bloody, racking coughing
spells. Now just imagine for a second, you're
sitting in a dental chair, mouth wide open, completely
vulnerable. Oh boy. And your dentist starts hacking
up a lung right over your face. Yeah, that's
just bad for business. I would not go back to
that dentist. Not a chance. It was fatal for
his practice. Patients stopped coming, his income
completely dried up, and he realized he needed
a new way to make a living. One that didn't require
close contact or physical exertion. He was getting
weaker. But his mind was still sharp. Sharper
than ever. And he had a natural aptitude for
math. It turned out he was very, very good at
cards. And this wasn't considered a scummy thing
to do back then. Right. Being a gambler. Not
at all. In the Arizona and Texas of the 1870s,
professional gambler was a legitimate, recognized
profession. It was almost respectable in some
circles. So necessity made him a gambler. But
the gambling life comes with its own hazards.
You're in saloons. There's a lot of alcohol.
There are sore losers. It does. And the trouble
starts pretty quick. In Dallas, 1874, he gets
indicted for illegal gambling. Then in 1875,
we see the first real flash of that famous temper.
A shootout. He gets into a shootout with a saloon
keeper named Charles Austin. They traded gunfire,
but nobody was actually hit. He was found not
guilty, but, you know, the heat was on. He moves
to Denison, Texas. Gets fined again and eventually
decides it's time to head further west. So he
starts bouncing around a bit. Denver, Wyoming,
Deadwood. He's dealing Pharaoh. He's getting
into knife fights. The records show he leaves
a guy named Bud Ryan seriously wounded in Denver.
He beats another guy with a walking stick in
Breckenridge, Texas. The violence is escalating
really quickly. It is. And it's worth noting
the psychology here again. Just remember, he
believes he is a dead man walking. He has absolutely
no fear of death because death is already sitting
on his shoulder. And that makes him incredibly
dangerous. If you pull a gun on a man who genuinely
doesn't care if he dies, you have lost all your
leverage. That is a terrifying thought. And that
brings us to Fort Griffin, Texas. This is where
the main cast of characters really starts to
assemble. It is. First, he meets a woman, Mary
Catherine Horney. Big Nose Kate. That's her.
I've always felt bad about that nickname. It's
not very flattering. No, but she was a formidable
woman, regardless of the name. She was educated,
she was tough, stubborn, and completely fearless.
The sources say she worked as a prostitute, but
she chose that life because she valued her independence
above all else. She didn't want to be tied down.
Exactly. She refused to be trapped in a domestic
life. And she is the only woman Doc Holliday
is known to have had a significant long -term
relationship with. And it was in Fort Griffin
that he meets the other... most important person
in his life. Wyatt Earp. How did that happen?
The setting is the Beehive Saloon. Wyatt Earp
is a deputy U .S. Marshal at the time, and he's
chasing an outlaw named Dirty Dave Rudabaugh.
The saloon owner, a guy named John Shancy, points
Earp toward Holiday, saying Doc had played cards
with Rudabaugh and might know where he went.
So it starts out just as a police inquiry. Hey,
have you seen this guy? Exactly. It was purely
transactional. But they hit it off. Holliday
helped Earp with information, told him he thought
Rudabaugh probably went back to Kansas. And this
initial meeting, this simple conversation, sparked
a friendship that would become legendary. But
the friendship wasn't really forged in fire until
Dodge City, right? Yeah. This is the moment where
Doc proves his worth in a big way. Yes. This
is 1878. Doc and Kate are in Dodge City, and
Doc is actually trying dentistry one last time.
No way. Yeah, he even put an ad in the local
paper offering money -back guarantees if the
teeth didn't fit. Wow. But he spent most of his
time dealing cards in the Long Branch Saloon.
And that's where trouble starts. Big trouble.
A group of Cowboys' accounts vary on how many,
maybe a couple dozen, led by a man named Ed Morrison
or Tobe Driscoll, are tearing up the place, they're
harassing customers, breaking glass, just c -
causing chaos and Wyatt Earp rushes in to handle
it he does but he's completely outnumbered guns
are drawn on him it looks like this is the end
of Wyatt Earp but Doc is there Doc is playing
cards in the back room he sees what's happening
he calmly stands up draws his pistol, walks up
behind the leader, Morrison, and puts the barrel
right to his head. He forces the cowboys to disarm,
basically telling them, and I'm paraphrasing
the sentiment here, to drop the guns or he'll
blow Morrison's head clean off. Talk about having
a friend's back. Wyatt Earp never, ever forgot
it. He credited Doc with saving his life that
day. And from that moment on, despite their very
different personalities, the stoic, teetotaling
lawman and the volatile drinking gambler. They
were bonded for life. So naturally, when the
Earps decide to head for the big silver boomtown
of Tombstone, Arizona. Doc follows. He arrives
in September 1880. And almost immediately, he
gets embroiled in the local politics. And you
have to understand, Tombstone was split. Right
down the middle. You had the Earps who represented
the business owners, the town interests, the
Republicans. And then you had the Cowboys, the
Clantons and McClurys, who represented the rural
outlaw element, the Democrats. And Doc was a
lightning rod for trouble. The Cowboys hated
him. They did. And there's this incident with
the stagecoach robbery that I think really shows
how badly the local enemies wanted him gone.
What happened? The Kinnear & Company stagecoach
was robbed in March of 1881. The driver, a man
named Bud Philpott, and a passenger were killed.
The local sheriff, Johnny Behan, who was a bitter
enemy of the Earps, saw an opportunity. To frame
Doc. Exactly. He and another man named Milt Joyce
got Big Nose Kate drunk. Very, very dirty business.
It is. They manipulated her, played on her fears
and got her to sign an affidavit saying Doc Holliday
had been part of the robbery and the murders.
They used his own partner against him. How did
Doc get out of that one? That sounds pretty damning.
Well, the Earps were able to provide concrete
alibis for Doc. He was somewhere else when the
robbery happened. And crucially, once Kate sobered
up, she confessed that she'd been completely
manipulated and didn't even know what she was
signing. The charges were dismissed as ridiculous,
but it just shows you the level of tension they
were actively trying to frame him to get at the
Earps. Which leads us inevitably to October 26,
1881, the gunfight at the O .K. Corral. Now,
we've all seen the movies, but what stands out
to you in the source material about Doc's specific
role that day? What do people usually get wrong?
Two things, really. First, his official status.
We often think of him as just a vigilante friend
pegging along for the fight. Right, just a guy
with a gun. But that morning, Virgil Earp, who
is the city marshal, officially deputized Doc
Holliday. Doc was a sworn special officer of
the law. That is a crucial distinction. He wasn't
just some guy. He was acting as the police. Precisely.
And second, the weapon switch. This is a small
detail that really paints the scene. Virgil Earp
had a short coach gun, a double -barreled shotgun
from the Wells Fargo office. A pretty intimidating
weapon. Very. And as they walked down Fremont
Street, Virgil wanted to appear calm. not aggressive
he didn't want to alarm the townspeople by openly
carrying this massive shotgun so he gave it to
doc why doc because doc was known for wearing
a long gray overcoat he could hide the shotgun
underneath it in exchange virgil took doc's walking
stick so doc is hiding a shotgun under his coat
you have this image of doc walking into the most
famous gunfight in history with a shotgun concealed
under his coat and a nickel -plated pistol in
his pocket he was ready So they get to the empty
lot on Fremont Street, which wasn't actually
in the OK Corral, right? That's right. It was
a narrow lot next to the corral. They confront
the cowboys. Ike and Billy Clanton and Frank
and Tom McClory. The tension is just unbearable.
The shooting starts almost instantly. And here
is that classic line. Go on. Frank McClory allegedly
yells at Doc, I've got you now. And Doc says,
Blaze away, you're a daisy if you have. You're
a daisy if you have. I love that line. It's so
dismissive. What does daisy even mean in that
context? In the slang of the time, a daisy was
something excellent or highly admired, a top
-notch thing. So he was taunting him. Oh, completely.
He was basically saying, you'll be a real champion
if you can actually hit me. It was pure, unadulterated
mockery in the face of death. And in the chaos
that follows, Doc uses that shotgun. He does.
He levels it at Tom McClory and blasts him in
the chest. That was a kill. The shotgun did its
job. Doc himself gets grazed by a bullet from
Frank McClory. It hit his holster and burned
his hip. But he keeps fighting. So despite the
legend of him killing dozens and dozens of men,
we know for a fact he killed Tom McGlory here.
Yes. That is one of the few completely confirmed
kills in his entire life. But the 32nd gunfight
didn't end the trouble. It just started a war,
didn't it? It was the beginning of the end. The
cowboys retaliated. They ambushed Virgil, shooting
him with a shotgun and maiming his arm for life.
Then a few months later, they assassinated Morgan
Earp while he was playing billiards. And the
justice system failed them. Completely. The justice
system in Tombstone was broken. The cowboys had
too much influence and too many friends in high
places. So Wyatt Earp decided to take the law
into his own hands. This is the Earp vendetta
ride. And Doc was right there with him. Wyatt
was appointed deputy U .S. marshal, and he deputized
Doc again, along with a few others. They went
hunting. And the first target was Frank Stilwell,
the man they believed was one of Morgan's assassins.
They found him at the Tucson train station, lying
in wait to finish off the wounded Virgil. Stillwell's
body was found the next morning next to the tracks,
riddled with buckshot. Warrants were immediately
issued for the arrest of the Earp posse, including
Doc. So they were fugitives. In the eyes of the
local sheriff, yes. But in their own minds, they
were federal marshals carrying out justice. And
there's a specific battle during this ride that
really highlights Doc's loyalty. the fight at
Iron Springs. This is a crazy encounter. The
posse just stumbles upon Curly Bill Brocious
and his gang at a watering hole. It's a total
ambush. And Wyatt just goes for it. Wyatt jumps
off his horse and starts blasting. He kills Curly
Bill almost immediately. But the other men, including
Doc, come under incredibly heavy fire and are
forced to pull back. And someone gets pinned
down, right? Texas Jack Vermillion. His horse
is shot out from under him and it falls on his
leg. He's trapped in the open, a sitting duck.
What does your doc do? Doc Holliday, along with
the others, had to retreat initially to get some
cover, but he kept firing back, laying down covering
fire to protect Vermillion until he could get
free. It shows that even in a chaotic retreat,
he was looking out for his team. So they finished
the vendetta. Kill a few more cowboys and then
flee to New Mexico to escape the warrants. Right.
And this is where the story takes a turn that
I feel like gets left out of the hero narrative
a lot. The breakup. It's a sad and, frankly,
an ugly moment. They're in Albuquerque eating
at a restaurant called Fat Charlie's. And Doc,
who we know had a mean streak, especially when
he was drinking, makes a comment. What happened?
Well, Wyatt was staying with a prominent local
businessman named Henry N. Jaffa, who happened
to be Jewish. And Doc, in his cups, makes an
anti -Semitic slur. He calls Wyatt a damn Jew
boy for associating with Jaffa. Oof. That is
hard to hear. And you have to remember, Wyatt's
romantic partner at the time, the woman who would
become his common -law wife, Josephine Marcus,
was also Jewish. So Wyatt was... Furious. He
just got up from the table and left. Walked out
on him. And that was it. The dynamic duo. broken
up over a drunken slur. It wasn't a permanent
estrangement. They did see each other later in
Colorado. But it caused a very serious rift.
And it shows Doc's flaws. He wasn't a saint.
He had an ungovernable temper, as Bat Masterson
later put it. He could be caustic, offensive,
and prejudiced. So Doc drifts to Colorado. But
the law from Arizona is still after him for the
Stilwell murder. That's right. And this leads
to one of the cleverest legal tricks I've ever
heard of. Enter Bat Masterson again. This is
absolutely brilliant. Doc gets arrested in Denver
in May of 1882. Arizona sends an extradition
request. They want him sent back to hang for
murder. Wyatt hears about this and asks Bat Masterson,
who was at that time the police chief in Trinidad,
Colorado, to help. So what does Bat do? Does
he break him out of jail? No, something much,
much smarter. He fabricates a charge. He goes
to a judge and claims Doc conned him out of money
in a bunco. game a confidence scheme here in
colorado he swears out a local warrant for doc's
arrest wait so he had him arrested to save him
exactly so now the governor of colorado frederick
pitkin has two competing warrants on his desk
yeah one from Arizona for murder and one from
his own state, Colorado, for bunco. And the local
one takes precedence. Masterson argued that it
did. The governor agreed and refused the extradition
request from Arizona. That is 4 -D chess right
there. Sorry, Arizona, we can't send him to you
to be hanged. We have to prosecute him for this
fake crime we just made up. And of course, once
the extradition was denied, the local bunco charges
were quietly dropped or he was released on a
small bond and just never showed up. Doc was
a free man in Colorado. But he wasn't free from
his demons or his poverty. By 1884, he's in Leadville,
and he's in really bad shape. He was destitute.
He'd pawned all his jewelry. He was sick. And
he owed $5 to a man named Billy Allen. $5. That's
about $170 in today's money. Right. He's going
to get into a gunfight over $5. Well, Billy Allen
was a bartender and also a special officer, which
meant he could legally carry a gun. He threatened
Doc, told him to pay up, or else. By all accounts,
he was hunting Doc down. On August 19th, Doc
is in Hyman's saloon. He knows Alan is coming
for him. And Doc is just tiny at this point,
isn't he? Wasted away. The sources say he weighed
116 pounds. The TB was just consuming him. Billy
Alan outweighed him by a good 50 pounds. When
Alan walked through the saloon door, Doc didn't
wait. He reached under the bar, grabbed his gun,
and fired. And he hits him. The first shot actually
hit the doorframe. Alan stumbled. Doc fired again
and hit Alan in the arm, severing an artery.
Alan survived, but his arm was never the same.
So Doc goes to trial for this, and this is where
the Western Credo comes into play. The jury acquitted
him. They cited the no -duty -to -retreat law.
The idea was that if you are threatened, you
don't have to run away. You can stand your ground
and defend yourself. And they bought it. They
did. They saw a frail dying man being threatened
by a much larger man and they let him walk. But
that was really his last stand, wasn't it? It
was. The high altitude of Leadville was terrible
for his lungs. He was relying on alcohol and
laudanum, which is an opiate, just to get through
the day. In 1887, he moves to Glenwood Springs,
hoping the famous hot springs there might help
him. But they didn't. No. In fact, the sulfurous
fumes from the springs probably made his lung
condition even worse. He checked into the Hotel
Glenwood. By November, he was completely bedridden.
He was only 36 years old, but he looked like
an old man. And we have to talk about the death
scene. It's so cinematic. But the sources say
it's true. It is, drawn from accounts of those
who were present. On the morning of November
8, 1887, he wakes up and asks the nurse for a
shot of whiskey. And she says no. She refuses.
And he's lying there, and he looks down at his
feet. Which are bare. No boots. Right. He's in
a bed. And his last words were, this is funny.
This is funny. What do you think he meant by
that? The consensus has always been that he expected
to die with his boots on. In a gunfight. In a
gunfight, in the street, a violent and sudden
end. That was the death he had been courting
for 15 years. To instead die in a bed, looking
at his bare feet, essentially just fading away.
To him, the irony was the final joke. Wow. That's
incredible. He died at 10 a .m. He was buried
in Linwood Cemetery overlooking the town. There's
some debate about the exact grave site because
the ground might have been frozen, but he's up
there. So we have the life. Now let's talk about
the final scorecard. Part seven, fact versus
fiction. The legend, the reputation, says he
killed more than a dozen men. Yeah, that's the
number you hear. But modern researchers have
really dug into this, and the reality is much,
much lower. How low? Confirmed kills. We have
Mike Gordon in 1879, Tom McClory at the OK Corral,
and possibly Frank Stilwell during the Vendetta
Ride. That's it? That's it. One to three men.
That is a massive difference from the reputation.
It is. But you have to look at his other stats.
He was arrested 17 times. He survived five separate
ambushes. There were four different attempts
to lynch him. So the violence around him was
real, even if the kill count was exaggerated.
Exactly. He was in the thick of it constantly.
But he often shot to wound or shot to scare,
or frankly, his reputation did most of the work
for him. So let's look at how his peers saw him.
Wyatt Earp, obviously he loved him. Wyatt wrote
a very famous tribute to him in 1896. He said,
and I'm quoting here, I found him a loyal friend,
a dentist whom necessity had made a gambler,
a gentleman whom disease had made a vagabond.
the most skillful gambler and nerviest, speediest,
deadliest man with a six -gun I ever knew. High
praise. But Bat Masterson, not so much. No. Masterson
really didn't like him. He called Doc a weakling
who couldn't whip a 15 -year -old boy in a fistfight.
He claimed Doc had a mean disposition and killed
because he physically couldn't fight any other
way. He needed the gun as an equalizer. That
was Masterson's take. And Virgil Earp, Wyatt's
brother. Virgil's take is maybe the most balanced.
He called him gentlemanly and a good dentist.
But he also noted that outside of us boys, I
don't think he had a friend in the territory.
Doc was abrasive. He was difficult. But if he
was your friend, he was your friend until the
very end. So what does this all mean for us?
Why are we still talking about a dentist from
Georgia who died in 1887? I think Doc Holliday
endures because he represents the ultimate tragic
anti -hero. He isn't the clean, white -hat hero
like the Lone Ranger. No. He's damaged. He's
dying. He has absolutely nothing to lose. And
in a world that was often lawless and brutal,
there is something incredibly compelling about
a man whose loyalty to his friends was the only
law he really followed. It's the loyalty that
gets me every time. He went into the OK Corral.
He went on the Vendetta ride. Not for money.
Not for a sense of civic duty, but because Wyatt
needed him. Precisely. And that brings us to
the final provocative thought for you to take
away. Lay it on us. Consider this. John Henry
Holliday dedicated his entire early life to the
science of healing. He studied for years to become
a doctor of dental surgery. He wanted to fix
people. Right. But history remembers him solely
as a killer. And the only reason he became that
killer was because he himself was dying. If he
hadn't caught TB. If he hadn't contracted tuberculosis,
he would have been Dr. Holliday, a respected,
successful dentist in Atlanta. He would have
lived a quiet life, raised a family, and died
in total obscurity. We would never, ever know
his name. So the disease that killed him. Is
also the only reason he's immortal. That is a
heavy thought. The curse was also the legacy.
It really was. Well, that is all the time we
have for this deep dive. We hope you learned
something new about the man behind the mustache.
Always a pleasure. Thanks for listening. and
we'll catch you on the next one.