day on which the election, I think, of officers took place, and I know
that I was--or at least my impression is that I was probate judge at the
time; that is my impression, that I was probate judge at the time."
"The officers were elected on the same day the constitution was voted on.
So you could not have been a probate judge until you were elected and
commissioned."
"No, sir; my impression is, that it was after I was probate judge that
that occurred. I think I told him that by virtue of the office that I
held, if he did not desist from this--I know that was my assertion to the
soldier."
"Was that a proper act for an officer, a conservator of the peace?"
"I do not know that it was, but the acts of violence going on, I thought,
demanded it, and the sheriff of the county had left,--and left these
soldiers there to do just what they pleased, and they were drunk; and when
I asked them several times to desist from this thing, and this fellow
clapped his hand on his pistol,--and I had a large derringer in my pocket,
and I told him he should do it."
"You drew your pistol on him?"
"Yes, sir; I drew my pistol."
"Was it your duty to arrest him?"
"Perhaps it might have been, sir. I did not think so; in the midst of that
excitement, I did not think so, sir."
"If a peace officer set such examples, they cannot complain that they are
followed by others."
"Yes, sir; that may be all true, but the peace officers had all forsaken
me and I was there, either to let the election go by default or else to
pursue that course,--and I resolved on that to get him away from there."
"Would not the course have been just as effectual if you had arrested him
in the name of the law?"
"I think the parties around him would have resisted arrest."
"Would not they have equally resisted your firing upon him?"
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
IN TUSCALOOSA
Two young men belonging in the hills of Tuscaloosa county, were journeying
in a wagon, bound homeward from a trading trip to Northport (across the
river from Tuscaloosa). Passing a negro lad, they jestingly pretended that
they would kidnap him. In alarm, the boy fled to his home and informed his
father that he had been mistreated; and the man armed himself with a gun
and pursued the unconscious young men. Overtaking them, he leveled his gun
menacingly and cursed the unarmed and defenseless white men. That night
they, with some friends, repaired to the negro's house to chastise him. He
had assembled a number of armed friends in anticipation of an attack. He
had loosened some of the flooring, and through the opening thus provided
crawled to the edge of the house, and, emerging from this position, crept
unperceived to the near-by bushes. While the whites were parleying with
the inmates of the house, he discharged both barrels of his gun, and young
Finley fell dead. Shots from the house succeeded. Attacked front and
rear, the whites withdrew in disorder. News of the occurrence quickly
spread far and wide.
Next day one of the negroes implicated was caught and killed. Later,
another, who had been captured and incarcerated in jail at Tuscaloosa, was
taken therefrom by a band of men and executed. The ringleader escaped
temporarily. Twice in pursuit of him steamboats were stopped and searched.
The fugitive had been on one of them, but debarked at one of the landings.
About twelve months after the unsuccessful chase, the fugitive was traced
to a plantation in Hale county, where the habit of wearing a heavy
revolver even while at field work rendered him an object of suspicion, and
caused an investigation which revealed his identity. His dead body, weapon
in hand, was found one day on the roadside, and his taking off was
associated in the minds of the people with the brief visit to that
neighborhood of two white men, who departed in the direction of Tuscaloosa
county. Consequences of this affair were a change in the office of
sheriff, recall of troops, and other tragedies, but the ultimate effect
was a better understanding between the races.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
A SERIES OF TRAGEDIES
In Sumter county affairs were approaching a climax when Enoch Townsend, a
negro, about dark one evening waylaid and repeatedly stabbed Mr. Bryant
Richardson, a planter, and fled after Mr. Richardson, despite his wounds,
bravely struggled to overcome his assailant. A warrant for the arrest of
the assailant issued, and officers sought him on the plantation of Dr.
Choutteau.
Choutteau was of French descent and migrated to Sumter from Louisiana,
where, it was rumored, he had been involved in serious trouble. He is
described as a swaggerer. During his early residence in Sumter he
expressed intense dislike of freedmen and lost caste with the whites by
seriously advocating wholesale poisoning as a means of relieving the
county of the surplus of its negro population. Later he yielded to the
temptation of office, and identified himself with the league and gained
odious notoriety by his radicalism. He had constantly about him at his
plantation armed negro guards; the league met there and picketed the roads
thereabout. At length he became intolerable.
To this plantation officers with the warrant of arrest repaired and
searched the cabins in the negro quarters. After the search was nearly
completed, a negro scrambled from the chimney of a cabin to the roof,
sprang thence to the ground and fled. Disobeying the summons to halt, he
was fired upon by the posse and killed. Poor fellow! he was the wrong man,
and no one ever learned why he acted so like a criminal. The dead man
proved to be Yankee Ben, president of the Loyal League at Sumterville.
(The fugitive Townsend was arrested by two law-abiding freedmen and lodged
in jail at Livingston.)
The killing of Yankee Ben excited the negroes, and a meeting was called at
Choutteau's place for the purpose of formulating plans to avenge it. Sixty
armed negroes assembled accordingly on Saturday, but were dispersed. On
Monday one hundred and fifty met at Choutteau's. Simultaneously, twelve
white men went there to hold an inquest on the remains of Yankee Ben,
which had previously been interrupted by the proceedings narrated. On the
latter occasion Choutteau refused to permit an inquest unless by a jury
composed of negroes. In this his dusky adherents supported him, and were
insulting in demeanor. One hundred whites reinforced the jury and
scattered the negroes. Thereupon Choutteau withdrew his objection.
Moreover, he promised that if permitted to remain on his place undisturbed
for a few days, he would leave the neighborhood, adding that he had for
some time contemplated the move. He was told that what he purposed to do
was unnecessary, and that he was required only to cease his turbulent
practices.
Choutteau moved to Livingston, and shortly afterward his plantation house
was destroyed by fire. He then posed as a victim of Ku Klux incendiarism,
magnified his losses, memorialized the legislature for reimbursement,
published exaggerated stories of the occurrence, and vociferously
threatened revenge. He was regarded as a menace to the safety of the
community in which he had taken up his residence.
Shortly after midnight August 13, 1869, his house was attacked by a small
band of men, who forced an entrance into the hall. Doors on each side gave
entrance to sleeping quarters, and an invader broke out a panel of one of
them, struck a match and thrust his face into the opening. A gun was fired
from within the room and the man fell to the floor. The weapon was
discharged by a German named Coblentz, whom Choutteau had hired as a
guard. The intruder's head was blown to pieces, and the entire brain, with
one hemisphere intact, together with the mask the unfortunate had worn,
was found on the floor next morning. When the victim fell back from the
door, a comrade sprang to the vacated place and fired several shots at
Coblentz, inflicting wounds from which he died an hour or so later.
Believing they had killed Choutteau, the band departed, taking the fallen
comrade. Blood drippings marked for some miles, to the river, the trail of
the retiring invaders. The negro ferryman testified that they ferried
themselves over the stream.
The dead man's identity was never disclosed to the public, but there was a
rumor that he was a young doctor, and that his remains were interred by
companions, who sent to his home his watch and other valuables which he
had about his person, with information regarding the place of burial. In
some unhappy home, a mother, wife or other loved ones long mourned the
fate of him who had died so tragically. Choutteau did not tarry. He was
given employment in Washington, and disappeared from view.
The party which visited Livingston that fateful night divided and a
detachment went to the house of George Houston, one of the negro
legislators. When the firing began at Houston's home, someone sprang from
a window and fled to the brush. Thinking it was Houston and that he had
escaped, this band reunited itself with the others and all departed. It
was Houston's son who escaped. Houston himself was wounded, but recovered,
and left for Montgomery, returning no more. Houston was accused of having
repeatedly uttered the threat that if the whites did not cease their
regulating activities he would have Livingston laid in ashes.
On August 8, of the same year leading citizens of Livingston received
telegrams advising them that one hundred armed negroes, en route to
Livingston, had stopped at Gainesville, in the same county, and purchased
quantities of ammunition. Very soon thereafter Captain Johnson, commander
of a steamer on the Tombigbee river, telegraphed to Livingston that in
steaming up the stream he had seen groups of negroes on the banks,--all
with guns,--who said they were going to Livingston to attend a nominating
meeting, to be held next day; that they had been ordered to attend with
arms. Another dispatch was received from Eutaw saying that Congressman
Hays had engaged transportation next day for one hundred negroes.
The white people of Livingston, on receipt of these dispatches, bestirred
themselves and summoned reinforcements from other points.
The night preceding the day set for the meeting the negroes camped outside
of town. Next day, when they entered Livingston, they were confronted by a
body of white men, who told them they would not be permitted to retain
their guns while in town and must take them back to the camp. The negroes,
after some disputation, on learning that the congressman would not be
present, retired. Burke, the negro legislator and president of the league,
went to the camp and harangued them. He urged them to return to town with
their guns and resist any interference that might be offered. He wrought
them into a state of excitement.
One negro, Hayne Richardson, refused to lay down his gun, and was shot on
the road some distance out of town. The report of the gun attracted
attention both in town and camp, and suddenly a party of horsemen dashed
toward the latter, firing their weapons. The sudden attack abruptly
terminated Burke's fervid oratory and his audience fled. Some were shot.
Richardson was badly hurt, but escaped and left the county. The following
night twenty horsemen surrounded Burke's dwelling. He escaped from it and
fled, under fire. Early in the morning his body was found stretched in a
path leading to the dwelling of his former master.
Price, the man of multifarious official employment, called the meeting,
and the negroes who testified in the investigation said that his runners
told them he directed that they attend with guns. Price took final leave
of Sumter before the shooting commenced.
Congressman Hays said he was prevented from attending by sickness of a
member of his family. He disavowed any responsibility for the negroes
going armed. "I only want to state this," he said, while testifying in
Livingston, "in connection with that matter--I do not know that it is
worth stating: that I understood from friends of mine here that there was
a regular mob down there to assassinate me the very moment I got off the
train. I heard that afterward,--that if I had come here, I would have been
killed instantly. If I had been, I would have been killed innocently."
Congressman Hays was unfortunate in being placed in alleged false
situations. There was another memorable occasion when appearances were
against him, however innocent of evil designs he may have been:
There was to be a meeting at Boligee, in Greene county, and Colonel J. J.
Jolly, of Eutaw, was invited to address the gathering. The Boligee
Democratic Club sent a committee to Major Charles Hays with an invitation
to discuss jointly with Colonel Jolly the issues of the campaign. The
invitation was accepted. When Major Hays arrived there was gathered a
party of armed negroes. According to his own statement under oath, Hays,
in relating the incidents of the abortive meeting, said that a half-hour
after his arrival "there came some fifteen young men riding up, with
double-barreled guns and a few hounds following them. I saw this
demonstration at once and I came to the conclusion that it was gotten up
for a row." He had been present for a half-hour and was all the time aware
that a crowd of armed negroes was gathered, but said nothing in
remonstrance, but as soon as the party of young white men rode up he
immediately stepped to the door of the building in which he was waiting,
and said to the negroes: "You have come here with guns in your hands, and
you know that I have expressly said to you that I would never speak to you
on any occasion whatever when you brought arms to a political meeting at
any place, and I shall decline to have anything to do with this matter in
any way whatever." Then, turning to the white men, "I hope, gentlemen, you
will excuse me; I'm going home."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
DISAPPEARANCE OF PRICE
Price was the most turbulent and desperate character among the radicals.
One of his own ilk declared that Price had not brought with him even so
much as a carpetbag, but was soon grasping everything in sight. After the
trouble in Livingston, just described, he fled to Meridian, and continued
there to be a disturbing element.
Lauderdale county, Mississippi, of which Meridian is the capital, and
Sumter county, Alabama, adjoin. A negro of Livingston went to Meridian to
obtain some farm laborers. On his return he reported that he had been
assaulted by disguised negroes, in whose leader he recognized Price. An
officer went from Livingston to investigate, and was assaulted by Price
and others. Price was arrested by the Meridian authorities, and when the
trial was due a number of Alabamians were gathered in that town. The trial
was to be before the mayor. Some of the county and city officials
requested the mayor not to permit the trial to proceed, because if he did
there would certainly be an outbreak. In compliance with the request, the
trial was postponed and Price permitted to escape. He never reappeared
and nothing is known of his subsequent career. But he entailed trouble on
the people, and there was a bloody sequel to his arrest and release.
Negroes held a meeting and resolved that they would repel with force any
future "raids" by Alabamians. After the meeting adjourned an incendiary
fire started, and leading negroes at the scene discharged revolvers
recklessly. This caused much excitement, and some colored men were
arrested and held under guard. Monday morning at eleven o'clock white
citizens met and adopted a resolution asking the mayor to resign and leave
the city. At three o'clock the trial of the negro prisoners began. Many
Alabamians were in town, among them, according to statements, the noted
Steve Renfroe, of Sumter, and Joe Reynolds, of Eutaw ("Captain Jenks").
The trial or investigation was before a justice named Bramlette. A white
witness concluded his testimony and was about to retire, when one of the
accused negroes, Tyler, insultingly asked him to continue on the stand a
few minutes, as he wished to impeach his testimony with that of some negro
witnesses whom he would introduce. The witness picked up a cane which was
lying on the table and moved toward Tyler. A pistol was fired from the
direction of that part of the room in which Tyler and a number of others
were grouped. Bramlette sank back in his chair, dead. Firing of pistols
became general and there was great disorder and confusion. Clopton, one of
the negroes under arrest and charged with incendiary utterances, was
wounded and thrown from a window of the room, which was in the second
story. He was taken into the sheriff's office, and in the uproar there
killed. Tyler escaped from the building and hid in a shop some distance
away. Pursuers found and killed him. Few doubted that he fired the shot
which killed the justice.
Excitement continued through the afternoon. Three other negro leaders were
arrested and placed under a guard for protection. Two nights afterward
they were taken from the guards and executed.
The mayor abandoned his office and left the state. An obnoxious member of
the legislature was sought, but fled and did not return.
One of the utterances of Tyler at the negro meeting recalled a remarkable
incident in the history of Meridian. In a drunken brawl an Indian
belonging to the Mississippi Choctaw tribe was killed there. A band of his
tribesmen, in a spirit of retaliation, visited Meridian and killed the
slayer. Tyler referred to this action of the Choctaws as an example worthy
of emulation by his people.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
RIOTS IN MARENGO
In the campaign of 1870, a former slave owner was one of the Republican
candidates for office in Marengo county, and made what was regarded as an
inflammatory speech to negroes gathered at Shiloh, a hamlet, situated in a
section of Marengo county largely populated by negroes. A few white men
were present, and between them and the candidate an angry controversy
arose. The immediate result was cessation of the speechmaking and
dissolution of the meeting. The orator was escorted by white men to a
buggy and departed in safety. He was a pugnacious man and had a record of
at least one victim to attest his prowess in rencontre. Some days later he
repaired to Linden, the county seat, accompanied by two negro men,
ostentatiously bearing a United States flag. There had assembled a great
crowd of negroes, who were, as usual, armed. With him on the platform was
Captain C. L. Drake, the man of many offices, and above them floated Old
Glory. An offensive reference to the disturbance at Shiloh provoked a
quick retort from one of a small group of white men who were listening to
the speech. The orator paused, dramatically removed from his pockets his
watch and purse, and from its fastening a diamond pin, handed them to the
sheriff, with the request that he convey them to the candidate's wife, in
the event of a fatality, drew a pistol, and, remarking that he had been
mistreated and would "fight it out," descended from the platform. Negroes
with guns sprang into double ranks, enclosing him on two sides. The group
of whites promptly seized and disarmed him, and meanwhile white men with
arms were rushing to the scene from all quarters. Somewhere on the
outskirts of the throng a pistol was fired which caused a stampede in that
quarter. The negroes about the platform, confronted by a line of
determined whites, yielded and retired from the scene. Drake fled to his
office and thence to tall timber. The candidate, forsaken by his
followers, asked for protection, and was hurried into a room of the
court-house and locked in with two or three citizens. The angry crowd
outside was clamorous and the beleaguered man, rejecting all suggestions
of plans for flight, himself finally proposed as a means of quieting the
uproar to sign a paper relinquishing his candidacy for sheriff and
withdrawing from politics. Duplicate copies of the paper were drawn up and
signed; he retained one of them, and the other was taken outside and read
to the people. It produced the desired effect. The candidate was placed in
a buggy and, accompanied by an escort, proceeded to his home. And thus
ended "the Linden riot." But the candidate was irrepressible and speedily
repudiated his act of self-abnegation as having been done under
intimidation.
He spoke at Belmont, a small settlement, and became involved in an affray
with a resident. This created a general disturbance, in which the meeting
was broken up and the negroes sullenly retired from the scene. They
threatened to burn the place, and a white man was shot at from ambush. So
unusually hostile and aggressive were the negroes that warrants issued for
the arrest of certain of their leaders, among them Zeke High. There were
posted notices of a meeting of negroes at Belmont on July 5, 1870. White
men in considerable numbers assembled there on that date, and the meeting
was prudently postponed. A negro was whipped that night, and next night he
assembled at his house, in a dense swamp near the river, a number of armed
friends. A scouting party of whites, seeking information respecting the
purposes of the negroes, approached their stronghold in the darkness of
night; one of them (Melton) entered the yard and was fired at. Melton
dropped to the ground and feigned death to escape another volley. Both
sides, thinking he was dead, ceased firing, and the whites withdrew to
give the alarm. A warrant of arrest was placed in the hands of an officer,
but he was unwilling to attempt to serve it at night. A young man named
Collins, bold and fond of excitement and adventure, volunteered to serve
the warrant and was duly commissioned. Collins, with three companions,
approached the house, but before he had time to summon the inmates to
capitulate, a volley was fired by the latter and Collins sank from his
horse in death. Two of his companions were slightly injured, and the
party, after returning the fire, retired. This occurrence created intense
excitement and indignation. Whites gathered from the surrounding country.
The negroes were greatly reinforced and fortified a position in an almost
impenetrable part of the swamp. Some of the whites favored an immediate
assault, but other counsels prevailed, and the sheriff, with a small
posse, proceeded to the scene and demanded Collins' body. The demand was
refused. Next day the sheriff rode into the midst of the mob and again
demanded the body, and got it. A few hours later the white forces made a
quick and determined forward movement to dislodge the negroes from their
almost impregnable position, and found it abandoned,--the negroes had
disbanded and fled in terror. This terminated "the Belmont riot"; but it
had a sequel in the retributive death of the negro leader, Zeke High, who
boasted that his shot killed Collins. On his own boastful confession High
was arrested and lodged in the Sumter county jail at Livingston. September
29 a party of mounted and disguised men from the direction of Marengo
forced the sheriff to surrender the jail keys, entered the prison and took
High from his cell, conveyed him a short distance away and hung and shot
him to death. This High was a desperate and dangerous character, and even
when seized by his executioners fought ferociously. When the leader
entered the dark cell in which High and three other prisoners were
incarcerated, he was assaulted and struck in the face with a heavy piece
of furniture, the blow dislodging several front teeth.
CHAPTER TWENTY
KILLINGS AND RIOTING IN GREENE
In 1870 Eutaw, the seat of government of the rich county of Greene,
contained a population of 1,800 or 2,000, and prospered greatly in trade
with farmers in the surrounding country. It was a typical Southern
court-house town,--busy in fall and winter, almost dormant in late spring
and summer. Its men were among the earliest to volunteer for service in
the Confederate armies and latest to retire from that service; they were
also amongst the earliest to organize resistance to carpetbag rule and to
throw off the yoke.