I'm reading "A Rifleman Went to War," by Herbert W. McBride, on the Kindle. The author was a Canadian sniper in World War I. It's interesting enough to justify the ninety-nine cent price on Amazon. It's written in a quaint vernacular, and our Herbert seems to have been one of the few people who actually had fun in the Great War.
The author fills us in on only those parts of his early life that contributed to his love of guns and his expertise at shooting. This includes a two year stint in the southwest, where he rubbed shoulders with some of the famous gunslingers. These included "Bat Masterson, Jim Lee, Schwin Box and Nat Chapin, just to name the best of them . . ."
"Schwin Box!" I shouted out loud. That name alone would be worth the price of the (e) book. I set a course for Professor Google to see if I could find any mention of Mr. Box.
Bat Masterson is a name that we recall. He was a real person, if TV and Hollywood movies are to be believed. Google had no record of a man called Schwin (one "n") Box, only a few more recent non-gunfighter people with the last name Schwin and a lot of information about how to purchase Schwinn bicycles at big-box stores. For good measure, there was no gunfighterish information about any Jim Lee or Nat Chapin. Doesn't mean there was never a man named Schwin Box, though. History picks and chooses, and history often overlooks a chance to preserve something really interesting.
And what could be more interesting than a man named Schwin Box? Why, nothing. Nothing at all.