4th day Nov., Term 1889.
At this term of the Court there were two armed factions in the town
of Hazard, the French and Eversole factions, antagonistic to each
other.
On the second night of the Court, the acting judge was shot but not
wounded (?) in the French end of the town, French not being in the
town at the time, but some of his men were and the next evening at
dusk a "dinamite" or other cartridge with burning fuse attached
was thrown over the judge's room or house in which he stayed and
exploded heavily on the other side of the house.
Court continued till the evening of the 4th day, when the two
factions began heavy cross-firing at each other in earnest about
and near the court house, which completely "correlled" the court,
the jury, the officers and people in court for some time, and
before the firing abated, the judge plainly seeing, that it was not
intended that court should be further held, and it being impossible
to further progress with the business and live, the court ordered
the clerk to adjourn the court, and the non-combatants to save
themselves as best they could. They did so, but one shot was fired
at them from the Eversole quarters as they left.
The fighting continued through the next night and until about 9
o'clock the next day excepting some intervals of rest. The French
side received reinforcement from Breathitt County. During this
fight two men, friends of Eversoles, were killed in the battle, and
it was rumored that one of the French party was badly wounded and
perhaps killed and another one wounded.
The Eversole party claimed that they were destitute of ammunition
next morning and retired from town without being injured thereby.
The clerk left with his keys, the jury left, the judge remained
till the next morning in the town and after the retreat of the
Eversole party, when he received news as coming from the French
side that he and the women and children could leave the town
unmolested provided he did not go back to the court house,
whereupon the court and some of the women and Commonwealth's
attorney quietly marched away and in pursuance to the court's
orders this court is hereby adjourned in course.
This order was signed at the August Special Term of the court 1890
and on the 11th day of August, 1890.
* * * * *
Immediately after the battle the factions scattered through the
neighboring counties, scouting in small detachments, and continually
shifting quarters.
A special term of the Perry Circuit Court was called for August, 1890.
On the night of July 4th, however, a deed was perpetrated which was
intended to and did block the business of the court.
The town was awakened by the shrill cry of "fire," the crackling and
crashing of burning and falling timbers--the court house was a seething
mass of fire, and the people could only look on as the structure
succumbed to the consuming element. There was never any question as to
the origin of the fire. It was the work of incendiaries. Fortunately,
most of the records were saved.
Many of the feudists now began to tire of the constant scouting.
There was not enough real fighting to make it interesting. Occasional
ambuscades had lost their charm. Many longed for peace and home. Among
these was Robin Cornett, an Eversole man. Pretending friends encouraged
him to return to his home. He did so, and as day after day passed
without the least mishap, he often visiting Hazard in apparent safety,
he relaxed his vigilance, and fell,--a victim of relentless assassins.
One morning (July, 1890) Cornett, in company of his little brother,
started to the field to cut oats. Finding the grain not ripe enough,
he abandoned the field work and proceeded to the woods to peel logs. A
tree, which he had cut, fell across a narrow ravine, elevating portions
of the trunk several feet above the ground. He leaped upon it, ax
in hand, when shots from the near bushes accomplished another foul
assassination. Cornett sank dead upon the log, while his little brother
ran for life and escaped.
There can be no doubt that Cornett's doom had been sealed the instant
he returned home. The murder had been planned and was executed with
cruel cunning and occupies a front rank among the many infamous
assassinations, which have given this feud such notoriety.
At the special term of the Circuit Court, Judge Lilly appeared,
accompanied by a detachment of State Guards, commanded by
Adjutant-General Gaithers of Louisville, Ky. The court house had
not been rebuilt and a large tent served the purpose. It soon became
evident that the court meant business. A large number of deputy
sheriffs were sworn in to supplant the inefficient Home Guards. These
were at once disbanded and ordered to return the accoutrements they
had received, but the few articles turned over were hardly worth the
shipping expenses, many of the guns being broken.
Within a few days after court had begun, prisoners were brought into
court as fast as indictments were found. The jail became so crowded
that many prisoners were kept in a strongly guarded tent. As rapidly as
the cases were called up and the accused were presented in court, they
were transferred to the Clark County Circuit Court for trial. It was a
wise and necessary step indeed. Not only would it have been impossible
to secure qualified jurors in Perry County, but the attendance of the
accused, their friends and witnesses would most probably have invited a
clash between the contending factions.
The last days of the term of court, commonly called the "Blanket Court"
had come and gone without the least disturbance, and the removal of the
prisoners to the Winchester jail was also effected without mishap. The
backbone of the war was at last broken. A strange, but welcome, calm
succeeded turbulence, bloodshed, and anarchy.
A great change had come over the caged warriors. Disarmed and crowded
in the narrow confines of a prison, they faced each other but the
deadly Winchesters were no longer in reach. Fast in the clutches of
the law, the law which for so long they had disregarded, evaded,
shamefully violated, they now had ample opportunity for reflection and
sober reasoning. The absorbing and very pertinent question: How to
escape the punishment of the law worried them. It was a knotty problem
indeed. The lions, made captives, were now tame and submissive. For
the first few days after these foes met in prison, hatred and bitter
feeling found vent in abusive epithets and fistic encounters, but the
realization of helplessness reminded them of the need of making friends
out of enemies. They realized their power to destroy each other in
the courts, but would not the destroyer himself be destroyed? Revenge
could only open more cell doors, or furnish culprits for the gallows.
It was this prospect of conviction, of punishment, which effected at
last what bloodshed could never have accomplished--it reconciled in a
measure the enemies of old, some of them actually becoming friends, and
thus again effectually clogging the legal machinery. The necessity of
self-preservation brought matters around in such shape that we find
men who had opposed each other in deadly combat, fighting side by side
the legal battles in court. None of the prisoners was allowed bail,
but after removal to Clark County, one after another of the accused
demanded examining trials and upon being allowed bail, readily executed
bonds and returned to their homes and families, which many of them had
not seen for months.
With the removal of French, Judge Combs and others of the feudists
returned an era of peace which continued uninterrupted until 1894, with
the exception of a street fight in the town of Hazard between some of
the Eversole faction and Jesse Fields, a French follower.
In this battle some of the Eversoles and Fields were wounded, and a
colored bystander was killed by a stray bullet.
In 1894 occurred the last assassination as the direct outcome of the
feud.
Tired with a life that now separated old Judge Combs from his family
and friends, he determined to and did return to Hazard to round out the
declining years of his life.
He might have lived in perfect peace and security elsewhere, but the
humble mountain home in the village of Hazard, so dear to him through
the associations of his youth and manhood, now attracted him more than
any other spot on earth. He could not bring himself to desert it once
and for all, in the chilly winter of old age.
Notwithstanding his faults, and his record during the feud shows him to
have been at fault on more than one occasion, he had a host of friends,
and these tried hard to dissuade him from his purpose. But he had
formed his resolve, and refused to be guided by well-meant advice.
There is something very pathetic in this old man's attachment for a
home which, for years, had offered him danger instead of peace, sorrow
instead of happiness.
He had visited his home surreptitiously on several occasions since his
removal therefrom. On one of these visits he had narrowly escaped death
by assassination. This attempt upon his life should have convinced
him that his doom was sealed, that his death had been decreed. Yet,
notwithstanding all this, Judge Combs returned to Hazard to reside. But
a little while afterwards he succumbed to the assassins' bullets.
The murder was committed in broad-open daylight, in plain view of many
townspeople, and, also from ambush.
At the moment the fatal shot was fired, the old man was engaged with
several of his friends and neighbors in commonplace conversation.
Within a few feet of the group of men stood a fence enclosing a lot
planted with corn, which, together with the thick and tall growth
of weeds and bushes, offered the assassins admirable opportunity to
approach their victim to within a few feet without danger of discovery.
No one noticed the slight rustling of the corn blades. No one saw
the hand that parted them skilfully to make way for the gun which
accomplished its deadly work. There was a puff of smoke, a loud report
and Judge Combs reeled. Suddenly he straightened himself up, stood
apparently undecided for a moment, then walked across the street toward
home. At its threshold he sank to the ground and expired without a
groan.
The murderers had evidently been determined to guard against any
possible blunders which had, on former occasions, saved the old man's
life. For from the moment the shot was fired up to the time the old man
fell dead, the murderous gun continually covered him, ready for instant
service should it appear that the first shot had not been fatal.
After the victim had fallen to the ground, the principal of the
assassins deliberately walked to the rear of the lot. Here he was
joined by one of his confederates. A third had already opened fire and
continued a fusilade from across the river for the evident purpose of
pretending the presence of a large force and thus by intimidation to
prevent pursuit.
The three confederates then proceeded calmly down the river. Their
retreat was deliberate. At no time did they exhibit the slightest
apprehension of danger or fear of pursuers.
The utter recklessness and boldness with which the crime had been
committed completely stupefied the townspeople. Intelligent, prompt
action was out of the question for a time. Not until the murderers had
had a long start did it become possible to organize a posse.
At last the fugitives were sighted by the pursuers. A general exchange
of shots followed. One of the outlaws was wounded. He continued his
flight with difficulty.
A running fight was now kept up for a great distance. Then the
fugitives disappeared in the dense mountain forests and the chase was
given up. But one member of the posse was wounded.
Several of the eye-witnesses of the tragedy and members of the pursuing
posse had recognized Joe Adkins, Jesse Fields and one Boon Frazier as
the fugitives. Joe Adkins was the man who had fired the fatal shot
which took the life of the old man Combs.
The three parties mentioned were in due time indicted. Adkins and
Fields were arrested. Frazier was never caught.
The cases against Adkins and Fields were transferred to another
district in Kentucky for trial. The best legal talent of the state
participated in the famous trial. Honorable W. C. P. Breckinridge, a
lawyer and orator of national fame, had been retained as counsel for
the defence.
Fields and Adkins had been French men all through the feud, in fact,
had been among his most trusted lieutenants since its commencement.
Rumor, therefore, quickly associated the name of French with the
murder of Judge Combs. French stoutly denied any complicity in this
affair. Then, like a thunderbolt from a clear sky, came the startling
intelligence that Tom Smith, another French warrior, had given out a
confession which seriously compromised French.
Smith was then under sentence of death at Jackson, Breathitt County,
for the murder of Dr. John E. Rader. As is usual with doomed felons, he
became converted and sought to wash his sin-stained soul whiter than
snow by a confession. It set forth that he had been present at the
home of Jesse Fields on Buckhorn Creek, Breathitt County, at a time
when French, Adkins and Fields discussed and perfected plans for the
assassination of Judge Combs; that he, Smith, would have assisted in
the dastardly murder but for a wound which he had a short time before
received in a pistol duel with Town Marshal Mann on the streets of
Jackson.
This confession resulted in French also being indicted.
The confession itself was of no importance from a legal standpoint.
It, however, materially assisted and strengthened the prosecution by
uncovering certain circumstances of which it might otherwise have
remained in ignorance. The friends of the murdered judge pointed
out with emphasis and logic that Smith had always been a French
confederate, had fought for him, taken life for him; that he had told
the truth about his participation in the murders of Joe Eversole, Nick
Combs, Shade Combs, Cornett, McKnight and Doctor Rader. Was there any
reason, they asked, why Smith should have lied in regard to French's
complicity in the murder of Judge Combs, yet had told the truth
concerning all things else. Why, they argued, should Smith desire
the ruin of his friend, his companion in arms, his chieftain, and
accomplish it by false statements, when the truth would save him?
French was indicted, tried and acquitted. On the first trial of Adkins
and Fields both received life sentences. The cases were taken to the
Court of Appeals and there, in an exhaustive opinion, reversed.
The second trial resulted in a life sentence for Adkins and the
acquittal of Jesse Fields. Adkins, however, has been a free man again,
lo--these many years. A life sentence in Kentucky is not what it seems.
Thus ended the last act of the bloody drama--the assassination of
Judge Combs. He was murdered because he had espoused the cause of Joe
Eversole at the breaking out of the war. Joe was his kinsman. As has
been said, Judge Combs undoubtedly contributed to the state of anarchy
which continued for so long in Perry County and disgraced American
civilization. As a sworn officer he had no right to permit love for his
kinsman, his friendship and affection for Eversole, to swerve him from
plain duty. Judge Combs' partiality in the discharge of his duties as
judge of the county doubtlessly hastened the conflict, for while it
protected one faction, it furnished good and sufficient reasons to the
other side to place no confidence in his administration of the law,
and roused them to savage, retaliatory crimes. Notwithstanding all
this, this last assassination was cowardly, as all the others, for that
matter. If Judge Combs deserved death, we may well ask how many of the
other participants in this feud ought to have shared a similar fate at
the hands of the law?