THE REPROBATE RABBI

Not every Western character of note was an outlaw, lawman or soiled dove. Some nontraditional archetypes also roamed the region. One of the strangest was an amoral, pistol-packing rabbi named Henry Schuhl, who arrived in Dallas in 1881. He’d relocated from Cincinnati to be rabbi of Temple Emanu-El, his first rabbinical role. The position didn’t require any particular academic credentials or training; it was enough to be a devout Jew, knowledgeable in Hebrew law and scripture. Every congregation appointed its own rabbi based on recommendations and reputation. The rabbi was the spiritual leader of the flock, as opposed to the board of directors, which ran synagogue affairs. Schuhl came highly recommended. Born in 1847 in the Alsace-Lorraine region of France, he immigrated to New York City in his early 20s and soon ventured to California, marrying wife Brunette in 1868. From there the couple bounced to Utah Territory and Ohio, Brunette giving birth to three daughters and a son, before landing in Texas. Henry was a handsome, distinguished-looking fellow with a silver tongue (in three languages), a sharp mind and a defiant streak that consistently got him into trouble.

Dallas in 1881 was a struggling town barely removed from its frontier origins. It had thrived as a rail terminus after the Texas & Pacific arrived eight years earlier but had languished when the line extended west to Fort Worth. Most of the buildings were wood frame, and only Elm Street was paved. The cost of living was cheap—a restaurant meal was 25 cents, while a boarding-house room could be had for $3 a week. The largest mercantile establishment belonged to the Sanger brothers, Alex and Philip, members of Temple Emanu-El. There were more saloons, dance halls and bawdy houses than respectable businesses. It was an easy thing to get a drink or find a keno game but impossible to get ice or find a public library. Citizens had voted Dallas a “local option” town, and the only time the saloons closed was on Sundays