Boone Logan made futile efforts to have the murderers arrested. After several days had elapsed, Bunk Mannin, the town marshal, went to Logan and told him that he wished to have a trial, and that the Tollivers were also ready for trial. “But,” said Mannin, “it must be understood that we attend court with our Winchesters.” Judge Stewart was also notified by the Tollivers that they wished a trial, to which request Judge Stewart made answer that he “would not hold a bogus trial” and refused to try the case.
Logan, Pigman and Ap. Perry, in danger of their lives, yet burning with indignation, entered into a solemn compact to effect the arrest and trial of all the parties engaged in the murder of the Logan boys. A resolution made by such men as Boone Logan and his friends meant something more than mere words. They, too, were men of action. They went to work in the preparation of their plan with coolness and circumspection. Caution was needed indeed. They first attached to their cause a number of men upon whom they could rely. Meetings were held at secret places. Boone Logan was at once chosen as the leader in the enterprise. In the prime of manhood, of fine physique and intelligent, he was just the man to place at the head of such a hazardous undertaking. Combining indomitable courage with prudence, sagacity and coolness, he was also a man of unflinching determination. Such was the man with whom the Tollivers now had to deal. Educated, a lawyer of prominence, and a polished, quiet gentleman, one would scarcely have picked him out as the man to oppose the outlaws, to attack them in their very stronghold and give them battle.
Logan and Pigman avoided being seen in each other’s company, yet the Tollivers by some means had learned of their secret meetings, and, growing suspicious, began hunting them high and low. To relate the many narrow escapes these two men had from death would fill pages. Every road was patrolled by the Tollivers, passing trains were searched, inquiries made everywhere, and insulting messages sent to Logan’s family. Shrewdly he avoided any encounter, but with dogged determination continued his preparations.
On the 16th day of June Boone Logan eluded the vigilance of the Tollivers and succeeded in reaching Frankfort, Ky., where he asked for, and was accorded, an interview with Governor Knott. To him Logan related the existing conditions in Rowan County, the despotism exercised by Craig Tolliver and his associates in crime, the horrible murder of the Logan boys, for which no one had as yet been molested, and asked for troops to effect the capture of the outlaws. The Governor listened attentively to Mr. Logan’s representations, but replied that he had already sent soldiers to Morehead at the cost of many thousands of dollars to the State, with no other result than aiding courts in committing travesties of justice; that under the circumstances he could not see his way clear to repeat his experiences with that county. He then asked Logan what per cent of the population was actually engaged in the trouble, and on receiving reply, answered that the good citizens being so largely in the majority, they should be able to themselves put down lawlessness. Logan admitted that he could find a number of citizens who would be willing to aid him in arresting the outlaws if they could secure the necessary arms. He asked the Governor for the loan of a few guns from the arsenal at Frankfort, offering to give satisfactory security for their safe return. The Governor explained that such a course was unwarranted and a matter beyond his control. Logan’s face turned almost livid for a moment. He did not blame the Governor, who acted under the law. But he became exasperated at the thought that a band of murderers were under the law permitted to remain in undisputed possession of his county, his home, while the Governor seemed without authority to come to the rescue of order and to maintain the dignity of the law. Courts had refused to do their duty; officers championed openly the cause of the murderers; peaceable citizens had been driven from their homes—anarchy reigned supreme. These thoughts filled his brain. Before his mind’s eye appeared the mangled remains of his cousins. He feared for his wife and children at Morehead. His home might at this moment be reduced to ashes and its inmates burned or shot. The young man’s eyes gleamed with a dangerous fire. His lips quivered while the strong heart beat almost audibly with excitement, indignation and utter disgust. At last he spoke, slowly, firmly, every word full of meaning. It was then he made his famous reply, so often repeated and commented upon:
“Governor,” he said, “I have but one home and but one hearth. From this I have been driven by these outlaws and their friends. They have foully murdered my kinsmen. I have not before engaged in any of their difficulties—but now I propose to take a hand and retake my fireside or die in the effort.”
Future events proved that these words were uttered for a purpose other than mere dramatic effect. The flashing eye told plainly of the passions that had been kindled in his heart, and the Governor could not but admire the man’s just indignation and determination to do what the highest authorities in the State could not do.
The action of Governor Knott in refusing to send troops to Rowan County has been criticised by those ignorant of the law and the powers of the Governor in such cases. The law lays down the scope of his authority. The power of the county had not been exhausted in bringing about, or attempting, the apprehension of the criminals. He had already responded with troops to protect the court only to find that the authorities showed the white feather; that compromises with criminals had been entered into; that juries and officers were corrupt, and when trials had occurred had proved a farce. No doubt in his heart he wished for Logan’s success. The man had made futile attempts to live peaceably. Now he intended to act in self-defense. The government cannot help him—he must therefore help himself. A man’s home, no matter how humble it may be, is sacred as the King’s palace in the eyes of the ancient common law. To defend it from intrusion and attack is man’s God-given right, his duty; Boone Logan set about to retake his fireside.
FINAL BATTLE OF MOREHEAD.
JUNE 22ND, 1887.
After leaving Frankfort, Logan hastened to Cincinnati, Ohio, where he purchased several hundred dollars’ worth of Winchester rifles, pistols, shotguns, and an ample supply of ammunition. These were boxed and shipped as saw-mill fixtures, and consigned to a small station (Gate’s) in Rowan County, some miles from Morehead.
Immediately upon his return to Rowan County Logan summoned his friends. They responded with a will. Many came from the neighboring counties, except Elliott County, which section sympathized strongly with the Tollivers, whose relatives were strong there. Sheriff Hogg was placed in possession of the warrants against Craig Tolliver and his confederates, charging them with the recent murders of the Logan boys (June 7th). It was definitely and explicitly agreed upon and arranged that the sheriff should demand the surrender of the Tollivers, and only in case of their refusal to comply were the citizens to take a hand. This, of course, was a mere matter of form. It was easy to predict to a certainty that the Tollivers would not obey the demand of surrender by the officers. That had been tried too often before. Yet the Logan faction desired to exhaust all lawful means before resorting to bloodshed.
Sheriff Hogg was instructed to demand the surrender and upon its refusal to retreat in order to insure his personal safety, and to give the forces under Boone Logan an opportunity to enforce the demand.
Thus far all went well. When the morning of June 22nd came, bright and beautiful, everything was in readiness for the coming struggle.
Logan, with some of his men, was stationed near the Chesapeake & Ohio Railway Depot. Just across, at the business place of Vinton & Pigman, Hiram Pigman, with six or seven men, stood in readiness to act in concert with Logan. On the opposite side of the town another detachment was carefully posted in concealment. The Tollivers were completely surrounded.
Strange to say, with all their vigilance, they had remained in utter ignorance of Logan’s final preparations. Logan was despised by them. His frequent absences from home had been attributed to fear. Of his visit to Frankfort and his purchase of arms at Cincinnati they knew nothing.
It was late in the morning of the 22nd, when an accident revealed to them their danger, though the knowledge came too late to enable their escape. The wife of a railroad man was visiting friends at Morehead. Her husband had noticed bodies of armed men closing in upon the town. He also knew of the large shipment of arms to Gate’s station. Anxious for the safety of his wife, after his suspicions had been aroused, he telegraphed her to leave Morehead at once, that a battle was impending without doubt. This information was conveyed to the Tollivers, who immediately prepared for the attack. Thus it happened that when the battle commenced, Logan and his men were put upon the defensive instead of the offensive, as they had anticipated.
The Logan forces awaited the appearance of the sheriff to demand the surrender of the Tollivers. He failed to arrive. The sheriff afterward testified that he had been prevented by armed men from entering the town. Be that as it may, the fight opened without him, and during the battle neither he nor his son participated.
Logan, unaware that his plans had been betrayed to the Tollivers, attempted to communicate with his friend Pigman at the latter’s store. He despatched a young man, William Bryant, with a note. To his surprise, the Tollivers suddenly appeared, armed to the teeth, and opened fire upon Bryant. The boy fled for life and escaped without a wound.
Logan and Pigman, finding their plans discovered, and the sheriff having failed to put in his appearance, now commenced the work they had cut out for themselves and their friends to perform. Firing began from every direction—every man fought independently, as best he could. Each part of the town became a separate battlefield. The non-combatants sought safety in flight or in the shelter of their homes. Black clouds of smoke hung over the ill-fated town; the air was stifling with the smell of sulphur. The grim monster of civil war raged in all its fury. Well might we say with Chalmers:
“O, the miseries of war! We recoil with horror at the destruction of a single individual by some deed of violence. When we see a man in the prime of health suddenly struck down by some deadly aim, the sight of the lifeless body haunts us for days and weeks, and the shock experienced, only time can wear away.
“The scene stands before us in daytime, is the subject of our dreams, and spreads a gloom which time can only disperse.
“It is painful to dwell on the distressing picture of one individual, but multiply it, and think of the agonies of dying men, as goaded by pain, they grasp the cold ground with convulsive energy, or another, faint with the loss of blood, his pulse ebbs low, and the gathering paleness spreads itself over his countenance; or, wrapping himself round in despair, he can only mark by a few feeble quiverings, that life still lurks and lingers in his lacerated body; or, lifting up a faded eye, he casts a look of imploring helplessness for that succor which no sympathy can yield.”
The moment the battle opened, Logan became the target for many guns from the concealed Tollivers. The balls fell all around him; plowed up the ground at his feet and hissed by his ears. Craig Tolliver and his confederates instinctively singled him out as their most dangerous adversary and made every effort to kill him.
The details of the battle are authentically recorded in the report of Ernest McPherson, captain of a detachment of the Louisville Legion, to the Adjutant-General of Kentucky, Sam E. Hill, which report was transmitted to the Governor and reported to the Legislature. (See documents 1887, No. 23.)
As the Tollivers were coming back, Boone Logan commenced firing. He was at once deserted by the men with him, but continued the fire which was returned by the two Tollivers, Craig and Jay, until their Winchester rifles and pistols were empty. They ran from below the depot to the American House, Craig Tolliver’s hotel, and obtaining a fresh supply of ammunition, were joined by Bud, Andy, Cal and Cate Tolliver, Cooper and others. All then started on the run for the Central Hotel. Andy was the first to reach that building by going through alleys and back ways. Bud Tolliver, Cooper and the rest went by way of Railroad Street, under constant fire from the bushes. Halting near the drug store they fired upon the concealed enemies and wounded one Madden. Bud Tolliver was here shot in the thigh. Cal and Cate, who were mere boys, assisted Bud up the lane and secreted him in the weeds back of Johnson’s store. They then rejoined their comrades. Cooper presently emerged from the Central Hotel and fired upon some of the Logan men, but was himself shot through the breast. He retreated into the hotel and secreted himself in a wardrobe, up-stairs, and in this place of fancied security was again hit by a bullet and killed.
The Central Hotel was surrounded, a cessation of firing ordered and Logan called upon the Tollivers to “come out and they should not be hurt.” A message of the same purport was delivered to the Tollivers by a woman. She returned with Cate Tolliver, a boy fifteen years of age, who was disarmed and allowed to go unmolested. The others in the house refusing to surrender, Logan resorted to the tactics employed by the Tollivers against his cousins and directed his men to fire the building. The Tollivers broke cover and started for the bushes. Before leaving the house Craig Tolliver coolly pulled off his boots, saying that it had always been prophesied he would die with his boots on, and that he intended to disappoint the prophets. He emerged in his stocking feet. Jay Tolliver got out the rear way, ran about fifty feet, was shot three times and fell dead. Craig and Andy broke from the hotel on the south side and were greeted with a hail of bullets. Andy was wounded twice, but not seriously, and under cover of the smoke succeeded in reaching the woods. Craig Tolliver’s former good luck at last deserted him. He ran, firing at his enemies, down a lane which leads from the hotel to the railroad track. At the corner of the drug store already spoken of, Pigman, Apperson Perry and three others were posted. They instantly opened fire on Tolliver, the score or more still at the hotel, also continuing their fusilade upon the fleeing outlaw. Craig Tolliver ran a few steps beyond the corner of the store, fell, rose again and, running toward the switch, sank to the ground to rise no more. He was riddled with balls and buckshot. To the great regret of the Logan men, the man whose death they most desired, was not injured. This man was Bunk Mannin, the town marshal, who so brutally maltreated the dead bodies of the two Logan boys.
There were undoubtedly some bad men in this fight against the Tollivers to whom may be ascribed some excesses which occurred on that memorable day. But they do not appear to have been actually connected with the Logans. One of these men admitted that he fired three shots into the body of Jay Tolliver after he was down. This same man afterwards became a willing witness for the prosecution against the slayers of the Tollivers. It was this band of guerillas that shot Cooper while secreted in the hotel, dying from a wound in the breast. After completing their inhuman butchery, this same guerilla band sacked the American Hotel and committed other outrages.
The firing was continuous for two hours, except while the Logans made proposals to the Tollivers to come out and surrender. Over fifteen hundred shots were fired.
There was a general sense of relief among the inhabitants when the battle was over and the dreaded Tollivers were wiped out. A public meeting was held and largely attended. A party, styling itself the Law and Order League, took possession of the town and held it until the arrival of troops.
Boone Logan had faithfully kept his word and retaken his fireside. The sinking sun witnessed his return to the home from which he had been banished. His enemies had crossed over the great divide.
For the first time in many months the town was quiet. The yells and defiant curses of the drunken desperadoes were heard no more. The lips that had uttered them were still. Peace entered Morehead once more. It had been purchased at the price of much blood.
The battle of June 22nd, 1887, was the last bloody clash between the various factions of Rowan County. The Tollivers, deprived of their leader, gave the town a wide berth after this. It soon resumed its former appearance of thrift and prosperity. Many of those who had removed from the county, now returned and took possession of their abandoned property. Business houses, closed for many months, were reopened, the illegal saloons closed tight, and law and order have been reasonably well maintained in the county ever since.
Several of the Logan men were indicted for murder, Hiram M. Pigman, who had been Logan’s right hand man, and of whom the latter spoke as the bravest and most circumspect man on the field that day, was indicted jointly with Apperson Perry. They were tried by a jury of Fleming County and promptly acquitted. Logan was never tried.
“The court was held under the protection of State troops. The trial lasted for seven days. Pigman and Perry were shown to be men of excellent character, neither of them had been parties to previous killings in Rowan County. The evidence being concluded, the court instructed the jury. Briefly summarised, these instructions were ‘Convict these defendants.’ The jury, however, were really ‘good men and true’ and to the evident surprise of the court, and the chagrin of the prosecuting attorney, returned a verdict of not guilty. These jurymen had been summoned from the adjoining county of Fleming. Their names deserve the thanks of all good citizens of the Commonwealth. Obedience to the law and protection from the law, are reciprocal rights and duties, and this jury really decided that where those to whom it is delegated to administer the laws, and to protect the lives, liberty and property of the citizens, wilfully disregard, or timidly refrain from discharging their duties, the citizen has the right to protect and defend himself.” (Capt. McPherson’s report. Documents 1887. No. 23.)
The glaring partiality of the court and corruption of most of its officers he illustrates in the following language:
“Not infrequently a witness would apply to an attorney the epithet of liar, and when questioned relative to some crime charged against him, a witness would defend his credibility on the ground that his questioner was guilty of offenses similar in character, which he would proceed to enumerate.
“Even the court would express his opinion in words of abuse and very plainly exhibited his partiality or prejudice. Indeed, when the case of the Commonwealth against John Keeton was called for trial, and the affidavit of the defendant and two reputable housekeepers, asserting the belief that the presiding judge would not afford the defendant a fair and impartial trial was by the defendant handed to the judge, he remarked, after reading the instrument aloud, that he was not surprised; that John Keeton would swear anything; that he had sworn to so many lies already that it was not astonishing that he (the judge) would not give him a fair trial. This observation of His Honor was delivered in the presence of the jury selected to try John Keeton.”
Reverting to the excesses committed by the guerillas during the battle and afterwards, Adjutant-General Hill says: (Documents, Ky. 1887.)
“Almost every one with whom I talked, heartily approved the day’s work, barring some excesses, which were committed, such as the killing of the two wounded men after the fight was over, and the disposition on the part of certain members of the posse to abuse their victory by manifesting some disregard of property rights, which conduct was bitterly lamented by the more conservative members of the posse, notably Boone Logan himself. The victors of the 22nd of June were in the main, singularly moderate and forbearing, and it is denied by none of the people there that they rendered a most valuable service to the county in overthrowing the outlaws who had so long terrorized the community.”
During Circuit Court the commanding officers of the troops noticed one of the sheriffs and several Tolliver sympathizers in secret consultations. So suspicious were their actions that they were watched. In the afternoon these parties disappeared from Morehead. The next afternoon they brought a box of Springfield rifles, calibre fifty, by train. One thousand rounds of ammunition accompanied the guns. Col. McKee promptly seized the arms over the vigorous protest of the Tolliver faction. The court had directed their shipment “for the purpose of securing peace and quiet and preventing a fight among citizens of this community.” Another order of the court declared “arms and weapons are kept or hidden or concealed, with the intent and purpose of being used by partisans of the factional war or strife now disturbing the peace, quiet and good order of said county of Rowan or being delivered to said partisans” etc., and directed the seizure of all arms. The officers complied, collecting all arms discovered in the possession of the Logan faction, and, of course, retaining the box of Springfields consigned to White, a Tolliver sympathizer. Then, strange to say, on August 24th, an order was issued by the Circuit Court directing the Colonel commanding the troops, or rather the Adjutant-General, to immediately deliver to the sheriff the box of Springfields and ammunition to arm a posse of citizens of Rowan County to make an arrest, and demanding a reply in writing should the officer refuse to comply with this strange order. The Adjutant-General replied that he could not comply with the order for the reason that the arms could not be released except under direction from the Governor.
The effect of obedience to this order would have been to restore the arms to the Tolliver faction, while retaining those of the Logan party, and to arm a posse, perhaps to be guided by Deputy Sheriff Hogg, with its recent infamous history still in mind, would scarcely have been consistent with the duty of an officer sent to Rowan County to preserve peace. A day or two afterwards the court severely censured the Governor for not permitting His Honor to arm such sheriff’s posse as he might select. Before departure from Rowan the officer commanding restored the guns and pistols taken from private individuals during the term of court.
The box of Springfield rifles was retained and loaded upon the cars for shipment to Frankfort. The Tollivers were incensed. Deputy Sheriff Hogg and Andy White sauntered through town breathing threats and dire vengeance if the guns were not left behind. The soldiers loading them, however, were not disturbed, and the guns were deposited in the arsenal at Frankfort.
The presiding Circuit judge was soon afterwards, the following January, brought before the Legislature on impeachment proceedings. During the long-drawn-out investigation many witnesses were examined, whose testimony fills an entire volume. The result of the investigation was censure, a quasi whitewash, and a recommendation to abolish the county and attach it to another. But this would have meant nothing more nor less than to saddle upon innocent people the settlement of a controversy. To have transferred the county to another district would have resulted in involving other sections hitherto not affected by the trouble. To have abolished the county would have been an open acknowledgment of the weakness of the State to execute its laws and to cope with crime. It was this confidence of the lawbreakers that their crimes would never be punished, and the belief of many good citizens that the machinery of the law was set in motion only in the interests of certain parties, that was responsible for the long-continued, shameful disorders in Rowan County.
THE FRENCH-EVERSOLE WAR.
The scene of this war was Perry County, Kentucky, one of the most mountainous sections of all Southeastern Kentucky. Hazard, the county seat, was then a small, but very thrifty and enterprising village. It was called a town. Rightfully it ought not to have aspired to that title. It is situated on the North Fork of the Kentucky River, and was built in scattered fashion, between abrupt hills in the rear and the river, with but a single street running through it.
Here at Hazard was the cradle of the feud which for years filled newspaper columns and furnished most sensational reading. Many of the stories which have gone out to the world had, however, no other foundation than a lively imagination of newspaper writers who were anxious to fill space and to please the readers that loved the sensational. In this purpose they have succeeded admirably.
Here at Hazard resided the chieftains of this war—Joseph C. Eversole, and Benjamin Fulton French.
Both were men of fine business abilities, successfully engaged in the mercantile business; both were prominent, able lawyers of the Perry courts; both were in easy financial circumstances.
Eversole was extensively related in Perry and adjoining counties.
French had originally come from the State of Tennessee, but had married a Kentuckian and by marriage had become related to influential families of Breathitt, Leslie and other counties.
Prior to the difficulties which eventually arrayed them against each other, Eversole and French had been apparently close friends.
A misunderstanding over a rather trivial matter furnished the basis of their future enmity, an enmity to the death.
The bird on the snowy alpine slope starts an insignificant slide. It increases as it rolls downward and becomes an avalanche; thundering into the valley below, carrying everything before it and leaving a path of desolation, destruction and death behind it.
So a trivial difference over a business transaction opened graves for many brave and generous men, desolated happy homes, and for a long time heaped shame upon the name of Perry County and the State at large.
French and Eversole disagreed and quarreled. At each subsequent meeting the quarrel was renewed with ever increasing bitterness; menacing threats were freely indulged in until the vials of hate became filled to overflowing. A theretofore existing sharp business rivalry materially assisted the estrangement from the start. As stated, both were engaged in the mercantile business in which each tried to outdo the other, often at a material loss.
Serious trouble might yet have been averted through the interference of honest friends but for an unfortunate circumstance, which involved them to such an extent that the breach became irreparable.
The circumstance referred to might, however, never have had serious consequences had it not been for the pernicious activity of the slanderous tale teller. In this feud, perhaps more so than in any other of the internecine strifes which, during the eighties added to the significance of the title, the “Dark and Bloody Ground,” and intensified the crimson hue of its history, we find those who shunned battle, feared to oppose their breasts to the shock of bullet, but gloried in pouring oil upon the flames, without danger to themselves.
In such a struggle the tale-bearer is more dangerous than powder and shot. Morally and legally, he who instigates a murder, even by indirection, is as much a murderer as the man who fires the gun and accomplishes the bloody deed. With the countenance of the saint such a man will seek the confidence of both sides. He loves to pose as a peacemaker; he preaches brotherly love. Yet, when the trouble is about to abate, he seems to regret it, for then he seizes upon every chance, uses every opportune moment to convey some confidential intelligence to the party or parties for whose ears it had been least intended. The strife is renewed; passions are rekindled; yet, while men welter in their hearts’ blood, widows mourn and orphans cry, the traitor, the tale-teller, the scandal peddler, maintains his saintly countenance and bewails the fate of the unfortunates.
Yet it is not always the spoken slander, the spoken tale, that hurts. The old adage that “silence is golden” is not to be applied in all cases. Silence is often even more dangerous than spoken words.
Silence may become a greater liar than the tongue. We often hear the expression “if you cannot speak good of any one, say nothing!” Yet silence is the most bitter, poisonous, insidious traducer. Silence may convey contempt more completely than a torrent of spoken words. Silence is most treacherous because it places the burden of its interpretation upon the other side. That interpretation may be wrong, but the silent slanderer does not correct it.
Silence is also many sided. It may mean consent; it may mean denial. It does incalculable harm without being in the least responsible or actionable. One cannot horsewhip one for injury to character through silence. Silence and innuendo are closely related; both are the most dangerous weapons of the moral coward.
Spoken lies are soon forgotten. They “rile” the blood—but that passes. Spoken lies are tangible, as it were, and may be met. Silence and innuendo are like enemies in invisible ambush. One cannot attack an invisible foe.
What we have reference to might best be illustrated by the following dialogue the writer once overheard:
A. “Tell me truly, did he make that charge against me?”
B. turns away and refuses to answer.
A. “I heard he had made that charge against me to you and threatened my life—is this true?”
No answer.
A. “I may then presume by your silence that it is true what I have asked you about?”
No reply.
Result of silence: A homicide, and the destruction of two families.
Asked later on why he did not nip the trouble in its incipiency by resorting to a white lie, B. answered with asperity that A. had put his own construction upon his silence and refusal to have anything whatever to say in their controversy. On the stand B. admitted that the third party in question had not told him what A. had inquired about. Ergo: B. was morally responsible for the homicide, as much so as the man that pulled the trigger.
Reverting to the circumstance which completed the breach between French and Eversole: A certain friend (?) of French conveyed information to Eversole that he, French, sought his life.
This informant was a clerk in the store of French and known to be in his confidence. Naturally, under such circumstances, Eversole gave the report credence. Why not? We are ever ready to believe and accept as true anything that is spoken of an enemy, and French and Eversole had already become such in their hearts, if not outwardly.
The tale-bearer, who shall be nameless, related how French had planned to rid himself of his business rival and thus make for himself a clear field for mercantile operations; that French expected to accomplish his purpose with the aid of trusty, hired assassins, and that one part of the plan, the employment of reliable murderers, had been entrusted to him, the informant, who had been promised any amount of money necessary for this purpose, and a partnership with French in the business as a further reward for his services.
Whether for real or imaginary causes, this tale-bearer had become intensely jealous of French over a woman. He sought consolation in revenge; one of the first steps toward the consummation of his desire to ruin his “rival in love” had been the bearing of the tale referred to to Eversole.
Eversole, after weighing carefully the statement, seemed to have entertained some doubt of its truth, and requested a sworn affidavit containing the statements made. This the tale-teller readily prepared with such clearness of detail as to cause Eversole to dismiss all doubt of the truth of the revelations and at once prepared to meet his enemy well.
French saw the ominous gathering of the Eversole clan, fully armed, and surrounded himself with an equally strong force.
Both of the belligerents kept busy recruiting among their friends and kindred in Perry and even adjoining counties. Man after man was added to the clans, some joining them bound by the strong ties of relationship or friendship, the most, however, were attracted by promises of good steady pay, and an opportunity to violate the law on a grander scale than they would have dared to do single-handed.
The first murder occurred shortly after the gathering of the clans.
One of French’s staunchest friends, one Silas Gayhart, was shot and killed—from ambush.
This mode of warfare was resorted to in this feud perhaps more generally than in any of the others. It must not be attributed altogether to cowardice—this murdering from ambush. It has many advantages. Of course, killing an enemy from ambush puts the slayers out of danger. That is one consideration, but the chiefest one is that it is almost impossible to fasten the guilt of the crime upon the proper person. When men are banded together for the purpose of committing crime, the sanctity of an oath is easily laid aside when an alibi becomes necessary. The entire population of the county may know the assassins, point them out to you as they stalk proudly along, yet, when it comes to trials by jury, the evidence seems to signally fail to connect them. The very men that might have told you in confidence the most damaging circumstances connecting the accused with crime, will, on the stand, disclaim all knowledge, or so soften down their statements that no jury could, under their oaths, find a verdict of guilty.
In this murder of Gayhart at least a dozen white men and some negroes participated. It is unfortunate that circumstances do not permit us to give the names of them. They should be preserved for posterity, and added to the list of feud heroes. As no one was ever indicted for that cowardly assassination, although its perpetrators were well-known throughout the county, history must necessarily remain silent in so far as the publication of their names is concerned.
It has been stated and contended that the killing of Gayhart was an affair entirely disconnected with the French-Eversole controversy; that the man had fallen as the victim of a quarrel with persons not members of the clan. This may be true and it may not. It is difficult in such social upheavals to get at the unvarnished truth. When crimes are committed under cover of black night, from well-secreted places, suspicion might point in the wrong direction and accuse the innocent. For this reason it is best to abstain from charges not definitely established beyond any sort of doubt. The result of the Gayhart murder, however, was the same as if he had been publicly assassinated by the Eversole clan, for French believed that Gayhart lost his life because of his friendship for him.
French sent out more recruiting officers. The increase of his “army” forced the Eversoles to do likewise. How similar is this to the struggle of nations to maintain superior armies and navies. It is not strange, after all. Communities stand relatively in the same attitude as do nations. A community is a miniature state, nothing more.
The little village of Hazard, with its one hundred inhabitants, was now thrown into a state of perpetual excitement which continued uninterrupted through the summer, fall and winter of 1887.
That no battle was fought was due to the extreme caution with which the clans watched each other’s every move.
Then early one morning the Eversole faction learned to their astonishment that French and his army had evacuated the town during the night.
Many theories were advanced in explanation of this singular action. Some attributed it to fear. Those better acquainted with the temper and make-up of the French clan scouted that idea and suggested that French was seeking reinforcement in the country, and that at an opportune moment he would sweep down upon the village, trap the hemmed-in Eversoles, and annihilate them with overwhelming forces.
This seemed a rational conclusion. With French gone from town, Eversole declined to be caught in such a trap, as trap it would have been, and to prevent the execution of French’s plan the Eversoles themselves retreated to a section of the country peopled with their sympathizers.
However, Eversole did not leave Hazard open to undisputed occupation. He left a bait there, a small force. If French should learn of the weakness of the garrison he would be tempted to sweep down upon it. In doing so he would find Eversole striking in his rear. French himself was shrewd and refused to fall into the trap.
Eversole scouted everywhere, frequently on the trail of French. During the month of June, in the dark of night, the latter reentered Hazard, took possession of his fortified places where most of his men remained secreted, while the more daring of them walked the streets the next morning, bantering the Eversoles that had been left in town. Their leader was at once notified by messenger to the country of the state of affairs. He had but few men with him at that time, but with these started for town. Seven or eight men, fortunately for him, joined his ranks on the way.
It was late in the day when Hazard was reached, but the lateness of the hour did not defer attack. From well selected positions the Eversoles opened a plunging fire upon the housed-up French men. These replied to the fusilade with equal spirit. Hundreds of shots were fired at a great expenditure of ammunition and without appreciable result. Only one man was seriously wounded on the side of French. No casualties were admitted by the Eversoles.
The darkness of the night brought the engagement to a close. French withdrew from town.
This kind of almost bloodless warfare continued throughout the summer with no decisive result. Both clans grew weary. Great expense had been incurred in keeping a large, paid army. The leaders were threatened with bankruptcy. So when the friends of both sides interceded, French and Eversole seemed more than willing to appoint and send representatives to a conference, which was held on Big Creek in Perry County. It was attended by prominent citizens of both Perry and Leslie counties, who were anxious to bring about a settlement of the war.
Articles of agreement were finally drawn up, in which the belligerents agreed to return to their homes, to disband their armies, and to surrender their arms and ammunition.
This agreement was duly signed by the representatives of the clans and duly witnessed.
In accordance with this agreement, French surrendered his arms to the county judge of Leslie County, while Eversole placed his guns in charge of Josiah Combs, county judge of Perry County.
The clans disbanded. Still, there were but few who promised themselves lasting results from the Big Creek Treaty of Peace. It was nothing more than a scrap of paper. The compromise had not been prompted by any desire for friendship.
Its underlying motive was mercenary. The chieftains sought merely to avoid financial outlay. The welfare of the country, respect for the law, these were considerations of secondary importance only, if taken into account at all. This may be fairly deducted from the fact that the old distrust of each other never vanished. The grudge was there, it rankled still.
Indeed, it was but a short time after the conclusion of the treaty that French claimed to have unquestionable authority for the charge that Eversole had violated the stipulations by repossessing himself of the guns. These, as we have seen, had been turned over to Judge Josiah Combs, who, by the way, was the father-in-law of Joe Eversole.
When Eversole was confronted with this breach of a solemn treaty he attempted to justify it by declaring that at no time had it ever been observed by French, who, he maintained, had never in fact disbanded his army, and that the surrender of arms had only been partial, a blind.
Whether these reports had been actually brought to the ears of the chieftains, or had been invented by them in order to manufacture some sort of pretext upon which to renew hostilities, must ever remain in doubt. Future events seem to prove rather clearly that neither of the parties was in very good faith toward keeping the peace. Both French and Eversole appeared singularly well prepared to re-enter the war. The ink had hardly dried on the treaty when Perry County was again thrown into turmoil and strife.
What had the authorities been doing during this period of quasi warfare? We find absolutely no record of any sort of any attempt to maintain the dignity of the law.
As in Rowan County, many of the court officers were rank partisans, who used their power to protect in outlawry their own particular friends and kindred. Those not in their favor had little cause to appeal to the law, had they been inclined to do so, which they were not. It seemed to suit both sides perfectly to let justice sheath her sword and stand idle, and—blind as usual.
On the 15th of September, 1887, Joe Eversole and Bill Gambriel, a French sympathizer, met in the streets of Hazard, when a quarrel ensued. This was followed by a most sanguinary duel in which Gambriel was killed.
Gambriel was a minister of the gospel, a typical mountaineer, tall, powerful and game. He would fight at the drop of a hat and drop the hat himself. It was said of him that he considered moonshine whiskey of much benefit for the stomach, and a game at cards an agreeable diversion from the cares and toils of life. It was said of him, too, that he carried a testament in one pocket, a deck of cards, a bottle of liquor and a pistol in the others. This had been told in a joke; but straightway this description of him was accepted as a fact and was widely published in the papers at the time.
The truth of the matter is that he was a man who entertained rather singular, independent and free ideas of the duties of a preacher. He was a good man, and had a wide circle of friends.
Joe Eversole was physically a small man, of slight stature, but quick and agile as a boy. Certainly he was fearless.
When such men engage in combat blood is sure to flow. As to who began the difficulty there is but little doubt. Official reports to the Governor, which will be found later on, place the blame upon Eversole.
After a short exchange of blows between the men, Gambriel was fired upon by secreted friends of Eversole. Attempting to escape by running around a house, Gambriel was fired upon from another quarter and fatally wounded. Staggering and reeling, he turned upon Eversole, who fired into his head, instantly killing him.
Several parties were indicted for the murder, but one only was tried. The trial resulted in a hung jury the first time, and in an acquittal on the second trial. It has always been an open secret about town that the man who fired upon Gambriel while he attempted to escape death, has never been indicted, and that he was an officer at that time.
The killing created intense feeling. Gambriel had many friends. He was a staunch French adherent and it was well within the course of reason for French to regard the killing of the man as a challenge. The Eversoles themselves believed that Gambriel’s friends would not pass lightly over the homicide and prepared to meet all danger. The clans, disbanded (?) but a short time before, reassembled and for several months roamed the ill-fated county at will, terrorizing its inhabitants and defying the law.
But little fighting was done. It seems that they contented themselves with manœuvering, marching and counter-marching. In such warfare, if warfare it was, the innocent were made to suffer more than the warriors.
Such an armed vagabondage was as useless as it was silly. It furnished material for the sensational newspaper, but even these failed to discover anything of the heroic about this campaign.
The leaders must have felt something of that themselves, for during the winter the armies were again disbanded. Permanent restoration of peace, however, was not to come to Perry County yet for a time.
The apparent calm through the winter was suddenly disturbed in the following April, when the news of the brutal assassination of Joseph C. Eversole and Nick Combs excited and horrified Hazard.
On the morning of April 15th, 1888, the valley of Big Creek, Perry County, became the scene of a tragedy which might well cause one’s blood to run cold with horror, one’s cheek to blush with shame.
On the Sabbath day, when human hearts should turn to God in prayer, when nature even seems to bow in reverence, the birds of the forests sing His praises with more than usual sweetness, two lives were hurled into eternity without warning, murdered, butchered from ambush.
When a man resents an insult, when passion clouds all reason, and in momentary frenzy, under the impulse of hot, red blood, he shoots his fellow man, there is yet some excuse. But when men with the savage instinct of beasts of prey fall upon their unsuspecting victims from ambush, like the tiger that glides noiselessly through the thick jungle and suddenly springs upon its prey, then the word man becomes a mock and devil is the proper epithet.
Nowhere in the valley of Big Creek could a more suitable spot have been selected from which to accomplish such a hellish crime as was committed on that fatal Sunday morning, than the one chosen by the red-handed demons.
The valley is narrow, the hills enclosing it are steep, rugged and covered with dense forest. The spot where the murderers were in hiding, commanded an uninterrupted view of the road up and down the valley. Nothing short of a lynx’s eyes could have penetrated the leafy, thicket-grown murderers’ retreat.
On the day of the murder, Joe Eversole, in company of his father-in-law, Judge Josiah Combs and the latter’s youthful nephew, Nick Combs, bade a last farewell to his family and the host of friends at Hazard and started for Hyden where the regular term of the Circuit Court was scheduled to begin the following morning. This court Eversole and Judge Combs had always attended, having been practising members of the bar there for years. Of this fact the assassins had been well informed.
They seemed to have feared that their intended victims might possibly leave for Hyden a day or two in advance of court, which they had done on several occasions in the past, so the murderers prepared for such an exigency and stationed themselves at the ambush for at least a day before that memorable Sunday.
Their patient waiting was rewarded on Sunday morning by the appearance of the victims. On the way the three travelers were joined by one Tom Hollifield, an officer, who was conveying a prisoner, Mary Jones, to Hyden. Judge Combs rode by the side of the officer, well in advance of Eversole and young Nick Combs.
They had passed the ambush some forty yards or more, when suddenly the roar of rapidly fired guns echoed and re-echoed through the valley. At the sound of the shots Judge Combs turned and saw, to his horror, that the messengers of death had accomplished their cruel mission, saw Joe Eversole and Nick Combs fall from their rearing and plunging horses, saw them struggle in their blood and then lay still.
Paralyzed with horror and agony, he gazed upon the scene. He had no sense or realization of his own danger, for in danger he had been. It was purely accident that he had ridden in advance of his kinsmen.
One of the assassins climbed down the steep hillside and approached the body of Nick Combs, who was then in his death-throes. He had fainted, but upon the approach of the assassin, opened his eyes.
The murderer, finding life still lingering in the mangled, bleeding body, raised his rifle to finish the bloody work. The youth begged piteously to shoot him no more, that death would claim him in a few moments. Mountains might have been moved by his pleadings, but not the heart of the cowardly assassin. “Dead men tell no tales,” he exclaimed, with a smile of derision upon his lips. Slowly he raised the Winchester rifle, placed the muzzle against the boy’s head and fired, dropping the eyeballs from their sockets.
The murderer then calmly rifled the pockets of Eversole of their contents and retreated, thus adding the crime of robbery to that of murder.
Judge Combs, brought to himself, spurred his horse to utmost exertion and dashed like a maniac into Hyden to bring the news.
The scene of the crime was within about three hundred yards of a house. Shortly after the shooting one Fields, the owner of the house or cabin, and one Campbell proceeded to the scene of the tragedy.
They found the dead in a pool of blood, lying within a few feet of each other. They discovered Eversole’s pockets turned inside out. Nick Combs’ horse was found, shot, in a little meadow by the side of the road, while Eversole’s horse was afterwards caught some miles further down the stream.
The news of the tragedy aroused the people to instant action. A force of men was assembled, who started upon the trail of the murderers. The place of ambush was found. It was located exactly sixty-one feet from the point where the bodies had been found, in a dense spruce-pine thicket. Several of the pine bushes had been bent over and the tops tied together, thus forming a complete screen and shelter.
Behind this blind or screen they found a considerable depression in the earth, a natural rifle pit. This had been filled with leaves and appeared packed and trodden into the ground. Numerous footprints were plainly visible. Remnants of meals were also found. Everything tended to confirm the theory that the assassins had been there for at least two days before the killing. From this screen the trail was followed up the hill until it divided. One of the trails led to the top of a high ridge, one turned to the right, another to the left. This discovery proved that there had been at least three assassins. When this fact became known the pursuers retreated, seemingly afraid of an ambush. They reasoned that three or more men so desperate as to commit a cold-blooded double murder in the broad-open light of day, almost in sight of human habitation, would and could, in this wild mountain region, successfully fight an even larger force than was at the command of the pursuers.
The bodies of Eversole and Combs were conveyed to Hazard in the afternoon and consigned to their graves amid a great concourse of sorrowing people.
Thus the bloody drama ends. The sombre curtain of mourning falls. The story of the brutal assassination is finished. Justice hides her head in shame for no one has ever been punished for it.
The French faction was at once openly charged with responsibility for the outrage. French himself was indicted. So boldly and undisguised were these accusations circulated that French feared for his safety and again surrounded himself with men. He almost immediately withdrew from town and scouted through the country.
If those who committed the murder of Eversole, or their accessaries, had hoped to thereby crush the enemy, they found themselves sadly mistaken. The vacancy created by the death of Joe Eversole was quickly and ably filled by John Campbell, a man of acknowledged bravery, as well as caution, and well-fitted as a leader in such a struggle.
He surrounded the town with guards; squads of men patrolled the streets; his force made repeated scouts into the neighboring hills. No man not in possession of the password could enter town. An unauthorized attempt to do so drew upon the rash one the fire of many guns. Campbell had been for days in hourly expectation of an attack by French. He, therefore, believed it wise to resort to military methods and discipline. The rigid order to shoot any one who dared to pass into town without first giving the pass-word resulted in his own death.
He was returning one night from his usual rounds when, on approaching a sentry, he found him asleep. He ordered him harshly to arise, when the man, half asleep, and dazed, threw the gun to his shoulder and fired. Campbell uttered a groan and fell heavily to the ground.
The sentry, on perceiving his mistake, gave the alarm; the wounded chieftain was carried to his home, where an examination of his wound by the surgeons disclosed the fact that he had been fatally wounded. He lingered, however, for more than thirty days in intense agony before he died—the victim of his own precautions.
During Campbell’s leadership one Shade Combs conceived the grand idea that he was the man who might summarily end the war by killing off certain obnoxious members of the French faction. He communicated his plans to Campbell, who furnished him the required men. But by some means Combs’ intended victims had gotten wind of his scheme and forestalled it in such manner that the hunter now became the hunted. One fine morning, while saddling his horse, a well-directed shot from ambush ended his life.
Such were conditions in Perry County during the summer and fall of 1888. People who had continued entirely neutral, grew exceedingly nervous. One never knew when his turn would come next to die from a shot from the bushes. The law had utterly failed to give the citizens the protection to which they were entitled. The state and county government enforced the collection of taxes but seemed unable to enforce the law. Had the people of Perry County withheld their hands from their purse-strings and refused to pay taxes, we honestly believe that the high authorities would very quickly have found or invented a remedy for the lawlessness which was depriving the State of revenue. The citizens of Perry County would have been justified in a rebellion against taxation, unless the government protected them in their rights. When people are taxed, they in turn are supposed to have their lives and property protected. When one consideration of a contract fails, the other may be avoided.
On the 9th of October, 1888, the news of another assassination increased the terror of the people. Elijah Morgan, a French adherent, a man of courage and unswerving determination, was shot and killed within less than two miles of Hazard—shot from ambush.
On the morning of his death he and one Frank Grace were on their way to town in pursuance of an agreement that had been entered into by him with members of the Eversole faction. Morgan was the son-in-law of Judge Combs, but in spite of all efforts from that direction to throw his influence with the Eversoles he had continued to remain loyal to French and for this he was promptly slain.
His death had been decreed some time before this, but his shrewdness and knowledge of the tactics of his enemies had made him a very slippery proposition. A ruse was, therefore, resorted to. For a short time previous to his death Morgan had frequently expressed his desire for peace, an earnest wish to lay down his arms, and to be permitted to return to peaceful pursuits. This commendable desire on his part assisted his enemies in the formulation of plans for his destruction. They assured him with every pledge of sincerity that he should not be molested; that he might freely come to town whenever he wished; that on a certain day (the day of the murder) if he would meet them at Hazard, they would all renew the friendship that had existed until the feud tore them asunder.
Morgan promised to attend the proposed peace jubilee. Little did he dream that the pretended friends were cold-blooded, calculating enemies, seeking his life under the miserable mask of friendship; that to be certain of success, to avoid any possible miscarriage of the plot, every avenue of escape had been carefully considered and guarded against.
Assassins were placed at various points along the road and at convenient spots in town.
The actors in the tragedy were all at their posts when Morgan stepped upon the scene, unknowingly playing the chief role.
Within less than two miles, in fact, but little more than a mile from town, at a spot where the road is flanked by large overhanging cliffs on one side and the steep river bank on the other, Morgan was fired upon. With a bullet in his back he sank to the ground. A number of shots followed the first one. Grace was driven to cover. Morgan, in his death struggle, rolled over the river bank where a small tree arrested further descent. Grace, not daring to abandon his place of comparative safety, remained a helpless spectator of the agonies of his dying friend.
Country people, traveling toward town, at last came to Morgan’s relief, but he died within a few hours.
As soon as the alarm had been given, a posse of his friends started in pursuit of the murderers, but nothing came of it.
The French faction openly charged the Eversoles with the murder. The Eversoles expressed indignation at the imputation. They had no right to complain. On other occasions they had themselves preferred similar charges against French upon no better authority than suspicions based upon suspicious circumstances. The murder of Morgan had followed closely upon the heel of the assassination of Shade Combs for which the Eversoles held the French faction responsible. Certainly there were some well-grounded suspicions that the slaying of Morgan was an act of retaliation on the part of the Eversoles.
Now the State government and the circuit judge began to take a hand in the matter. It was time. Circuit Judge Lilly, a gentleman of the highest type, an able jurist, had somehow or other seemed unable to inspire the district with respects for his courts. This district embraced the counties of Breathitt, Letcher, Perry, Knott and others. In each of those lawlessness had spread to such an extent that the judge found himself defied on every hand and felt himself compelled to request the State to furnish troops for his courts.
This led to the following spirited correspondence between the Governor and Judge Lilly:
Hazard, Ky., Nov. 13, 1888.
To the Governor of Kentucky:
Sir:—Captain Sohan has succeeded in organizing a company of about 45 State Guards in Perry County. He informs me that he has no orders and does not know whether he will be ordered back to Louisville or to go with me to Whitesburg, thence to Hindman and thence to Breathitt; but, in any event, expects to be ordered away from here very soon. Mr. B. F. French is here with 15 or perhaps more men, well armed, and the people are so much alarmed, fearing that they will be left to the mercy of these men, that I have decided that I will take the responsibility upon myself to order the Perry Guards on duty, hoping that you will approve my action and order them on duty, and let their pay begin on the 17th instant.
I will not attempt to hold courts at Letcher, Knott, or Breathitt unless you send guards along. No good can be accomplished by holding courts in any of those counties without a guard. If a sufficient guard is present, I think that much good will be accomplished in and by the moral effect it will have on the people by showing them that you are determined to have the courts held and the laws enforced, and to give protection to the good citizens.
Please write me and send by way of Manchester, as I shall return that way, and if I do not receive your letter here, can get it on the road. If you order the guard to go with me I will go and hold the courts if not Providentially hindered.
I remain, Yours truly,
H. C. Lilly.
The Governor answered in rather caustic manner.
Governor Buckner’s Reply.
Executive Department.
Frankfort, Nov. 27th, 1888.
Hon. H. C. Lilly, Judge, Irvine, Ky.
Dear Sir:—I have the honor to acknowledge the receipt of your communication of the 13th inst. from Hazard, Perry County, in which you say “Mr. B. F. French is here with 15, or perhaps more, men, well armed, and the people are so much alarmed, fearing that they will be left to the mercy of those men, that I have decided that I will take the responsibility upon myself to order the Perry Guards on duty, hoping that you will approve my action and order them on duty, and let their pay begin on the 17th inst.”
At the time I received your communication I was in communication with the sheriff of Perry County. I inferred from his statements that there was no immediate danger of an outbreak or opposition to the civil authorities; and, second, that but slight effort had been made by him to arrest violators of the law.
Your own statement does not inform me of anything more than a vague apprehension in the public mind, and does not advise me that the civil authorities cannot suppress any attempts at disturbance by employing the usual force of civil government. I assume that if danger had been imminent, both you and the sheriff would have remained on the ground.
The object of furnishing troops on your application was to protect the court in the discharge of its duties, and not to supercede the civil authorities by a military force.
Under the circumstances I do not feel authorized to call the local militia into active service.
Respectfully, your obedient servant,
S. B. Buckner.
The letter of Judge Lilly is significant as an admission of the cowardice of the entire population. He says “Mr. B. F. French is here with fifteen, or perhaps, more men, well-armed, and the people are so much alarmed fearing that they will be left to the mercy of those men” and so on.
Had Judge Lilly been correctly informed? If so, what had become of the boasted bravery of Kentucky mountaineers that the manhood of an entire county, containing many thousand inhabitants, should shiver and tremble like frightened sheep and tamely submit to the intimidations of a band of FIFTEEN, or perhaps more, men.
Was it possible that in this land of the free and the brave the proportion of brave men stood fifteen to one thousand cowards? Oh no! The authorities had simply never put the law-abiding, the true citizen element, in a position to show its mettle; it had never been given a proper test. The attempt to restore order had not been made at all; if it had, it would have succeeded. No outlaw band, however strong, can, or will, long defy the law when a firm and determined move is made to enforce it. Why is it that one courageous blue-coat policeman can scatter a crowd? It is not his bulk, his figure, but the uniform he wears, the badge of authority—the law. If he is a credit to that uniform he may, single-handed, disperse a mob. The consciousness of having the law behind him makes him dauntless; the thought of duty steels his nerves. If those entrusted with the execution of the law in Perry County had made one firm, unflinching effort to uphold its dignity, the period of assassinations would have ended then and there. The history of lawlessness in Perry County furnishes ample lessons to other counties, and to other states, for that matter.
Governor Buckner aptly expressed his opinion of the situation when he terms the “fears and alarms” of the people as “anything more than a vague apprehension in the public mind.”
Judge Lilly probably accepted the trembling cowardice of a few as the criterion by which to measure the manhood of an entire county.
However, on the 29th of October, the Governor notified the Adjutant-General to forward troops to Hazard. His report to the Governor later on furnishes interesting reading, as does the report of the commander of the expedition, Captain J. M. Sohan.[6]
Adjutant-General’s Office.
Frankfort, Ky., Nov. 14, 1888.
To his Excellency, Governor S. B. Buckner.
Dear Sir:—Pursuant to Executive order, bearing date the 29th ult., I left Frankfort on 31st and proceeded to Hazard, the county seat of Perry County, arriving there noon of Sunday, the 14th instant, where I remained till Thursday, the 8th, when I left on my return, at 10 o’clock A. M., arriving here Saturday morning. Hazard contains near 100 inhabitants, when they are all at home, but I was told that not more than about thirty-five people were at home when I reached there, the rest of the population having refugeed in consequence of the French and Eversole feud which has distracted the people of the town and county for more than two years, and during which some ten men have died by violence as the result thereof. Many of the refugees returned before I left there, a number having joined the troops en route, and returned under their protection to Hazard, arriving there on the afternoon of Sunday, the 4th, while others returned Sunday night and others as late as Wednesday night.
Among those who had sought safety in flight were George Eversole, county judge, and brother to Joe Eversole, the leader of the faction of that name; Ira Davidson, circuit and county court clerk, a sympathizer with that faction, Josiah Combs, late county judge and father-in-law of Joseph Eversole, and his son —— Combs, who is an officer of the circuit court, and Fulton French, the leader of the French faction, together with the families of each, except Davidson, who is a single man. These all returned, except the elder Combs, either with the troops or after their arrival, and before I left. The killings above referred to were mostly assassinations from ambush, which seems to have been the favorite method of warfare adopted by both factions for ridding the community of the presence of persons who, from causes real or supposed, had made themselves obnoxious to the slayers, though one killing, that of Mr. Gambriel, was committed in the town of Hazard, in broad daylight, by two Eversoles and two of his henchmen, and was witnessed by a number of people; was committed without anything like adequate provocation, but for which no indictment had ever been found. Grand juries and witnesses seem either to have sympathized with the law-breakers or to have been intimidated by them; but it is not improbable that both of these causes have operated to paralyze the administration of the law, and to correspondingly stimulate crime. As is usual in such cases, I found that the county authorities failed to act with any degree of promptness and vigor at the inception of the difficulties and the result was the inevitable one—the troubles soon grew beyond their control. Josiah Combs, the father-in-law of Joe Eversole, was county judge at the beginning of the feud and Eversole and his friends were evidently the aggressors—at least were first to resort to violence—and when the county judge was appealed to by outsiders to issue warrants for their arrest, positively declined to do so, saying that Eversole had done nothing to be arrested for, and that French ought to be driven away from town. Thus the inaction of the authorities stimulated the friends of each faction, and each sought safety in arming such persons as would take service with them, and setting at defiance the law instead of looking to it as their best protection. Finally, one Sunday morning last April, Joe Eversole, in company with Nick Combs, his brother-in-law, and Josiah Combs, started from Hazard to Hyden to circuit court, and when about five miles out from Hazard they were fired upon from ambush and Eversole and young Combs were instantly killed.
Fulton French was indicted for that killing, and while he may have instigated it, he certainly did not participate in the shooting.
The killing of Joe Eversole seems to have demoralized his friends, the most prominent of whom soon after left Hazard.
The last assassination was that of Elijah Morgan, who was shot from ambush, near Hazard, on the 9th of last month. His only crime appears to have been that he sympathized with French. Morgan was also a son-in-law of Josiah Combs and brother-in-law of Eversole.
And now, perhaps, you are ready to ask what it was all about? Well, I cannot say, although I very naturally sought to learn the cause. Some of whom I enquired thought it was business rivalry, while others said there was a woman in the case, and I think it attributable in part to both those causes. French and Eversole were both merchants and lawyers, and I was told that some three years ago a man who was clerking for French accused French of deflouring his wife, and quit French and took service with Eversole, and told the latter that the former had offered him five hundred dollars to murder him, and soon afterwards Silas Gayheart, who was a friend of French, was murdered, as it is charged, by Eversole and his friends, and from that time on the troubles have grown and assassinations multiplied, the victims being first from one side and then from the other. I thought it advisable to call out 44 of the reserve militia, all that I had arms for, and selected these from the best, non-partisan people that I could.
The list was not complete when I left, but I authorized Capt. Sohan, whom I found to be an excellent officer, to muster them in, and gave him similar instructions to those you gave me on the subject.
Judge Lilly is very anxious that the troops go with him to Knott and Letcher Counties, but I heard of no organized band of outlaws in those counties too strong for the civil authorities, if the latter will do their duty. The troops, officers and men comprising the detail, conducted themselves in a soldierly and appropriate manner, and I apprehend that they will have no trouble in protecting the court from violence should any be offered, which I think improbable.
Very respectfully,
Sam E. Hill,
Adjutant-General.