While searching for material affecting the history of the Black Hawk
War, of course I found the stereotyped version of the noted wrestling
match between Captain Abraham Lincoln and an obscure private from the
St. Clair company of Captain William Moore; the same published in
Nicolay and Hay’s Life of Lincoln. But not until too late for my purpose
did I secure its details with anything like accuracy. A long course of
investigation has just rewarded me with the facts.
The match was celebrated, the State over, long before Lincoln became
famous and it must be admitted a pleasure to turn from the serious man,
to the early, robust Lincoln; the young man of stature and strength,
informal as he was when just reaching man’s estate and in possession of
his first prize in life.
It may seem ridiculous to class the modest office of captain of a
company of sixty day volunteers, as a proud position, yet Leonard Swett
has told us the day of Lincoln’s election to such a position in 1832,
was the proudest of the latter’s life.
When Governor Reynolds called out the militia to remove Black Hawk and
his band from Illinois soil, “dead or alive,” Abraham Lincoln as he has
told us, was “out of a job,” and enlistment therein invited him to
place, adventure and perhaps renown. A company of sixty-eight
intractable spirits (two more were added subsequently), was organized in
Sangamon County and enrolled on April 21st, of which Lincoln was elected
captain and from which he was expected to exact discipline. His First
Sergeant was John Armstrong, the gentleman who had undertaken with
disastrous personal results, to introduce Lincoln to New Salem “life”
through the medium of a wrestling match. William Kirkpatrick, said to
have filched a cant-hook from Lincoln, as well as the latter’s rival in
the contest for captain, was another. The Clary boys, Royal and William,
who acted disagreeable parts at the Armstrong function, were of the
number, while as though smiling at the joke of it, “Pleasant” Armstrong
was another private. Finally from the sentimental side we find the names
of John M. and David Rutledge to add to the list. Truly a picturesque
crowd!
Once organized, the company was marched to Beardstown to be sworn into
the service of the State by Inspector General John J. Hardin, where too
the captain fell in with such men as O. H. Browning, Edward D. Baker,
Adam W. Snyder, John Dement, Gov. Carlin and others who became famous in
the history of the State and Nation. At that point the companies were
formed into regiments and moved toward “The Yellow Banks” _en route_ for
the mouth of Rock River where Captain Lincoln was to meet General Henry
Atkinson, and Lieut.-Col. Zachary Taylor, as well as Lieutenant Robert
Anderson, Lieutenant Jefferson Davis, Captain William S. Harney, Lieut.
Albert Sidney Johnston and many others who were to be prominent in his
future during the great crisis of our country.
In referring to the nights of that period, O. H. Browning in his journal
of May 2d, wrote that they were “cold and tempestuous;” so that choice
camping grounds, affording wood and water, were eagerly sought and when
found, the scramble for their possession was spirited.
At, or just out of Beardstown, the companies of Captain Lincoln and
Captain William Moore from St. Clair County, came upon just such a
camping ground simultaneously and for its occupation a strife arose of
course. With the propensity for free fights, usual to those days, it may
appear miraculous at this day that such an affray was avoided; but as
Captain Lincoln felt his official oats at the time and may have desired
to reap a little personal advantage from the collision, he proposed to
Captain Moore that “‘captain for captain,’ the matter should be settled
by a match.”
But as every rule of wrestling forbade a contest so unequal, Captain
Moore, who declined, suggested as a substitute the selection of a man
from each company. That appeared fair enough and with a metaphorical
chip on his shoulder Captain Lincoln selected himself to represent his
company, while Captain Moore who was not an authority on “wrestling
form,” turned over the function of selection to his brother, Jonathan
Moore, Orderly Sergeant.
The latter knew his business even though a shout of derision went up
from Lincoln’s men when the champion was produced. When led up for
slaughter, the victim was found to be just above medium height and
weight and so unobtrusive and guileless that I had almost forgotten to
mention his name:—Lorenzo Dow Thompson of St. Clair County.
Captain Lincoln chortled and gave the upstart a look of such fine scorn
that the poor fellow should have been sorry for living and had the
affair been one of to-day we surely could have heard the captain shout
“what a cinch!” when the books were opened for bets.
Jonathan Moore was called to referee the match which was to consist of
“best two in three” falls. He tossed up a coin, winning choice of
“holts” for Thompson, who chose “side holt.” Lincoln’s was “Indian
holt,” and generally speaking it was a scrappy sort of a “holt” too. At
once a great scramble followed among Lincoln’s men to lay their bets
before Captain Moore’s men got “scart.” But Captain Moore’s men refused
to get “scart.” In fact there was a very suspicious degree of firmness
and unanimity in their opinion of “Dow” Thompson’s ability to take care
of himself and any loose change his friends might put up on him; so up
went powder-horns, guns, watches, coats, horses, pay-rolls and
reputations until there remained not one solitary article of property in
possession or expectancy thereof which had not been put into the pot on
that match.
To increase the zest of his men for gaming, Captain Lincoln who was
cock-sure of victory, had urged them to offer odds and discount the
future all they could, and the men did it. Then the combatants
grappled—side holt,—Thompson’s choice.
They see-sawed. The spectators shouted. Momentarily Lincoln’s men
bantered Thompson with words of encouragement, “just to drag the sport
out and get their money’s worth,” but when they discovered their error
there appeared a temporary inspiration by the Clary boys to meddle. The
Armstrong boys wanted to get busy as the contest proceeded, but before
any of these meddlers could devise a plan, the long legs of the captain
cleft the air and in the very next instant Thompson had him fairly upon
the ground. The din which followed would have silenced a thunderstorm.
As said of the boy who fell down cellar:—he did not hurt himself, but
_did_ hurt his new pants, so it might be said of the chagrined captain
after that first fall. His person had not been harmed but the disaster
to his feelings was something dreadful. Particularly harmful because the
crowd to witness it had quadrupled several times, each installment
adding a few words of humiliation. Defeat in the presence of a few
friends would have been dreadful, but surrounded by an army and he a
captain, it was a catastrophe. Even the swagger back to the center did
not square it. His friends shouted: “That’s only one fall, while two
more are due.” That encouragement did not place his confidence _in statu
quo_. But he made his bluff by stating icily when he had secured his
“holt:” “Now Mr. Thompson, it’s your turn to go down.”
The Indian hug or “holt” did not work at all however. In fact the
patronizing captain was kept busy trying to keep his feet solid against
the multitude of tricks which Thompson had up his sleeve to thwart the
captain’s favorite “holt.” At last it was abandoned as altogether
useless.
The redoubtable captain followed with a “crotch-holt,” but that terrible
device was resisted as easily as water runs from a duck’s back. A trick
called “sliding away,” was introduced, only to confirm the growing
opinion of the spectators that the doughty wrestler from Sangamon had
met his master.
A moment of indecision followed, the slipping of a mental cog, so to
speak,—just enough to allow the despised St. Clair man to get in his
fine work, and once more the legs of the valiant captain rose in the air
and both men fell to the ground in a heap.
“Dog fall!” yelled Lincoln’s men.
“Fair fall!” retorted Moore’s men.
A free fight was imminent, but Lincoln, disgruntled and defeated though
he was—in one fall at least—was a “good loser.” Springing to his feet
before the referee could act, he cried: “Boys! The man actually threw me
once fairly; broadly so, and this second time—this very fall, he threw
me fairly though not apparently so.” That settled the matter and the
frankness of the speaker saved him his reputation although his men had
lost all their available property.
On the 8th day of August, 1860, Professor Risdon Marshall Moore, then of
McKendree College (now of San Antonio, Texas), son of the referee,
Jonathan Moore, called upon Mr. Lincoln at the latter’s house in
Springfield with a delegation of college men, devotedly attached to Mr.
Lincoln’s cause. In introducing Prof. Moore, Lieutenant Governor Koerner
added, “of St. Clair County.”
Prof. Moore then stated: “Mr. Lincoln, we have called to see the next
President.” To which Mr. Lincoln replied: “You must go to Washington to
see the next President.”
During this and other conversation which followed, Mr. Lincoln eyed
Prof. Moore constantly with a suspicious twinkle of the eye, after which
he asked: “Which of the Moore families do you belong to? I have a grudge
against one of them.”
Professor Moore replied with a still merrier twinkle: “I suppose it is
my family you have the grudge against, but we are going to elect you
President and call it even.”
There were present at that meeting the same O. H. Browning who had
witnessed the match nearly thirty years before, Norman B. Judd, Richard
J. Oglesby and some others, to all of whom Mr. Lincoln related the story
as herein told, concluding with these words: “I owe that Moore family a
grudge, as I never had been thrown in a wrestling match until the man
from that company did it. He could have thrown a grizzly bear.”
Poor Thompson! He migrated to Harrison County, Missouri, and became its
first representative in the General Assembly of the State in 1846 and
was re-elected in 1848. He was also a member of the first grand jury of
the county. Politically he was called an anti-Benton Democrat. Positive
in all his convictions, he was called eccentric toward the end of his
life, but all who knew him testify that he was able, upright and a good
neighbor and citizen.
In 1875 he died in indigence at the age of 65 and his body lies in
Oakland cemetery six miles north of Bethany.
Singularly enough, we are told that to the same point migrated one Peter
Rutledge who claimed to be brother to Ann Rutledge.
In the early history of Illinois, the Moores were known as the “fighting
Moores,” by reason of their daring in the Indian war of 1812–14 and the
border troubles which were constantly menacing our frontier.
Jonathan Moore who was born in Georgia, Nov. 20, 1799, was one of the
number. He moved to Illinois in 1812, served in the Black Hawk War and
enlisted in the Mexican War, but his company was rejected because troops
enough had already been sent to the front.
At the breaking out of the Civil War, he enlisted and was made captain
of company “G” Thirty-second Illinois Infantry and served at Shiloh and
other hard fought engagements.