Feeling it advisable not to resist, the county officials in their offices at the time filed out and held a meeting at the home of Jim Cockrell, and decided to send a message to the governor complaining that there had been an insurrection and that Strong had illegally captured the courthouse. Governor Preston H. Leslie was astounded; he had had trouble out of the mountain courthouses before, and requests for troops to allow courts to function, but he had never before faced a coup d’état, the blatant capture of a county government. He sent in sixty soldiers on September 16, 1874. Some of Strong’s messengers heard that the troops were on the way and warned the captain. A few hours before the militia arrived, Strong and his men very casually left the courthouse and rode out of Jackson.
The tension in Jackson, however, and the constant shooting between the Jetts and Littles worried the captain in charge of the troops, and before the episode ended five companies had arrived and encamped in the town. They remained through December 1874, protecting the court so that it could function.
The Little-Jett feud was ended, however, not by troops but Breathitt sheriff John Linville Hagins. A gunfight broke out between the two sides on Quicksand Creek. Logan Cockrell was killed and Jerry Little was wounded. Cornered, Little jumped into the creek and hid under some brush until dark, when he dragged himself out of the water and crawled home. Finally, Sheriff Hagins, a twenty-six-year-old who had friends on both sides of the feud and refused to be drawn into it, decided that the Little-Jett conflict had gone on long enough. Riding to the home of Hiram Jett, he said, “I’ve come to arrest you, Hiram, and would like for you to come peaceably.” Jett’s response indicates that he may well have been tired of the fighting but felt he had a tiger by the tail and was afraid to let go. “I will if Little will,” he replied. So Hagins went to the Little home and made the same statement to Jerry Little, who made the same response; he would come peaceably if Jett would. Thus the leaders of both factions were brought in without a shot being fired, and the court took bond for their appearance at the next term of court, at which time they were tried. To everyone’s apparent satisfaction, no one was sent to prison for the casual shootings and killings of the previous months, but the leaders were fined. That seemed proper.
A strange sidelight: Hiram Jett was tired of the hostility. A gentleman and prosperous merchant, he did not want the reputation of a gunfighter, but he knew that the image would follow him as long as he lived in Breathitt County. So shortly after the trials he sold his home and moved to Madison County, where he lived until his death in 1887. Two years after his death his widow married ex-sheriff John Linville Hagins. It proved to be a happy marriage. Blessed are the peacemakers.
Calm did not reign for long, however. In the summer of 1878 there was a heated contest for the office of county judge. Among the candidates were Judge D.K. Butler, who had held the office before, attorney John Wesley Burnett, and E.C. Strong, a cousin of Captain Bill Strong. E.C. was supported by the Littles. On June 3 a Democratic convention was held in Jackson. It was an ill-tempered gathering, marked by frequent gunfire, at which nothing was accomplished, since a majority could not decide on a candidate. Soon afterward, Judge Butler withdrew, and friends urged Burnett to do the same to avoid conflict with the Strongs. He refused, though E.C. Strong was gathering support, including that of Big John Aikman. But Aikman was Captain Strong’s bitterest enemy, and the captain, caught between dislike for his old enemies—the Littles and John Aikman—and loyalty to his cousin E.C, deserted E.C. and supported Burnett, who had the backing of what law-and-order element there was.
To general surprise, Burnett won, but by a thin margin—eight votes. The Littles and Aikman swore that Burnett would not live to take office. Burnett feared they would fulfill their prophecy and with three friends rode to Frankfort, where he persuaded the governor to award him the commission of office without customary procedural delays. The Littles grumbled and made sullen threats but did little else.
But Big John Aikman was not content to talk. Three weeks after the election he collected a dozen or so supporters of E.C. Strong and rode into Jackson with the aim of killing Burnett. But someone talked—whiskey was probably involved, it usually was—and before the Aikman forces reached Jackson more than thirty Burnett partisans rallied at the courthouse. The attack never came off, but several times during the following week gunmen attacked the Marcum boardinghouse where Burnett stayed, leaving a few bullet holes but injuring no one.
Then a nasty event occurred that ignited the Little-Burnett fire again. A few weeks after he took office, Burnett heard that the wife of Jason Little, Jerry Little’s uncle, had died under strange circumstances and had been buried hurriedly under Jason’s home. Judge Burnett ordered the body disinterred. This caused a furor. The Littles swore they would kill anyone who tried to dig up the body, but Burnett was not to be bullied. He appointed a coroner’s jury, deputized a cordon of guards, and directed them to the Little home, where they dug up the body. The coroner’s jury found (1) that Mrs. Little had been pregnant at the time of her death, and (2) that her body had suffered gunshot wounds that had been stuffed with beeswax to disguise them. Jason was charged with her murder and lodged in the Jackson jail, but Burnett ordered him transferred to the jail in Lexington, fearing that as long as he was in Jackson, efforts would be made to storm the jail and free him or hang him.
What happened next demonstrated how shaky was the hold of law in Breathitt County. During the second week of November 1878, Deputy Sheriff Charles Little, a cousin of Jason, obtained from Circuit Judge John Randall of Perry County an order directing the jailer in Lexington to release Jason to Deputy Charles Little. Charles then gathered some deputies, and they rode to the railroad station in Montgomery County to catch the train to Lexington. Sheriff Hagins, hearing of this, gathered a group of his own and set out for the same train station. When he arrived, Deputy Little and his band were waiting on the platform.
A tense moment. Sheriff Hagins ordered Deputy Little to disperse his men and return to Jackson. Little said that he had a court order to return Jason to Jackson and that he had no choice but to obey the order. About that time the train for Lexington arrived. They all stood, glaring at each other and wondering whether to reach for their pistols. Finally both parties boarded the train and rode to Lexington in tense silence.
In Lexington they went in search of the jailer and found him at home, and both demanded the release of the prisoner. The jailer, choosing to obey the rules of rank, released Jason to Sheriff Hagins. Deputy Little fumed, calculated his chances in a shoot-out, and decided to wait until they were back home and among friends to attempt to rescue Jason. Again they all boarded the train, got off in Montgomery County, mounted their horses, and rode toward Jackson. Deputy Little, with no prisoner to bother with, raced ahead, planning an ambush. Sheriff Hagins, knowing that was what Little would probably do, took a long, roundabout way back to Jackson, hoping to get behind the would-be ambushers and place Jason in the questionable security of the Breathitt jail.
Court was due to begin on Monday, November 25. On November 24 opposing feudists began arriving in Jackson in force. On Monday morning Captain Bill Strong and his followers arrived and took up quarters in a log building down the street from the courthouse. In Strong’s group were his reputed top killer, “Hen” Kilburn, Steve McIntosh, former slave “Nigger Dick” Strong, mulattoes William and Daniel Freeman, and perhaps a dozen others. The Littles were backed by the Aliens and Gambles and the famed gunman Big John Aikman.
During the noon recess of the court, Aikman and his men rode into town and hitched their horses on the public square. Bill Strong and his men were lounging just down the street, and for a while there was a tense silence. Then Daniel Freeman, one of the mulattoes with Strong, walked up to Aikman and, in a show of more courage than sense, asked him what he wanted.
With a mean smile, Aikman slowly drew his pistol.
“I don’t know that I was wanting anything particular,” he said, “but I’ll take a d
ead nigger.” Freeman turned to run, and Aikman shot him in the back. William Freeman had been a few steps behind his brother, and when he rushed forward to help him, Aikman shot him, too. This set off a general gunfight. Strong’s forces withdrew to the log cabin, where they had left their rifles. Aikman, Justice of the Peace Whick Allen, and their men took over the courthouse, making it their headquarters. The streets were immediately deserted as non-combatants fled from town or to their homes.
Throughout the afternoon the two sides kept up a desultory and ineffective fire. Eventually Daniel Freeman, who had been left lying in the street, was rescued and taken to the Haddix home a few miles south of Jackson. A doctor was called, but the bullet had entered Freeman’s back and come out on his right side, and he died. William Freeman, though wounded in the thigh and back, recovered.
When it grew dark, Aikman and the Little forces left the courthouse and gathered at the home of Alfred Little on the Kentucky River. They were there when Deputy Charles Little and his posse returned from Lexington bearing the bad news that they had not been able to rescue Jason and that Hagins would be returning with him at any time.
Dawn broke on a tense town. Aikman’s force contained a number of Jason Little’s relatives and friends. Bill Strong’s band contained as many who wanted Jason hanged. There were rumors that some of Aikman’s men had ridden out to lay an ambush for Hagins and rescue his prisoner. Circuit Judge Randall ordered Deputy Sheriff James Back to gather a posse of fifteen men and go out to reinforce the approaching sheriff. Judge Burnett, despite the warnings of friends, took over leadership of this posse. They rode out of town and met Hagins’s force about five miles from Jackson.
Aikman, seeing the odds shift with the reinforcement of Hagins’s forces, got on his horse and headed home. After he left, Squire Allen took command of the Little forces, who numbered about fifty men, and they took up stations to greet Sheriff Hagins and his posse. The battle never took place. Hagins and his men rode quietly into town by a side road and were approaching the courthouse before the Little forces realized they had returned. Jason Little was placed in the jail, and the posse members, thinking the danger had passed, started for home.
But as Judge Burnett and Sheriff Hagins started down the street to the nearby boardinghouse, two men stood in the street shouting insults at them. They ignored the remarks and kept walking, but suddenly someone shouted, “Watch out!” and Burnett turned and was shot, allegedly by Alfred Gamble. A man with Gamble, allegedly Alfred Little, a nephew of Jason, tried to shoot Hagins, but his pistol misfired. Burnett ran a few steps and collapsed. Hagins carried him into the home of George Sewell, where he died.
While this was going on, a group under Squire Allen rushed the jail and tried to break down the door. Tom Little, a cousin of Jason, pushed his way to the front of the mob and begged the men not to take the law into their own hands. Someone shot and killed him. The shot and the sight of him sprawled in front of the jail door cooled the mob, and they retreated.
Captain Bill Strong and his men took up positions in their log fort, Allen and the Little forces withdrew to the courthouse, and Sheriff Hagins and his guard took over the hotel across the street from the jail. Sporadic firing continued for several hours, but no one seemed to be sure who was shooting at whom, or for what particular reason. The Littles had brought into town a barrel of applejack that had reinforced the courage of the jail attackers, but as night drew on the barrel grew empty and thoughts sobered. By Wednesday morning the Little forces had disappeared. Sheriff Hagins took over the courthouse, from which he had a clear view of the jail. Captain Strong and his men left for their homes on the North Fork.
But peace did not immediately descend on Jackson. With Sheriff Hagins and his men holed up in the courthouse and Deputy Charles Little and his men riding around town, no one seemed sure who represented the law. To make matters worse, Judge Randall, disgusted—and probably frightened—suddenly rode out of town for Hazard at daybreak without giving notice. By midmorning a mob roamed the streets, drunk and dangerous, firing into the air, some of them again shouting their intentions to storm the jail and take Jason Little. Nothing came of it. Sheriff Hagins tried to establish some order, and eventually the drunks sobered up and went home. By December 7, when Lieutenant Thompson of the state militia visited Jackson, he could report to Governor James B. McCreary that everything was quiet, that “the excitement was nothing like so great as reported, and did not extend to the people generally.”
The lieutenant could be excused for being deceived by the apparent calm. He was not familiar with the county or its conflicts and had no way to detect the currents of hostility beneath the surface calm. Unfortunately, his report made the governor inclined to minimize the Breathitt conflict, and it was not until Judge Randall warned that he would not convene a special term of court without the protection of troops that the governor took things seriously. On December 12, for the second time in five years, troops were ordered into Breathitt County. Even then Judge Randall did not feel secure in Jackson. He reentered the town quietly by night and showed up in court next morning flanked by soldiers.
With the help of troopers, Hagins and his men rounded up more than thirty men who had taken part in the violence. Twenty of them were taken to jail in Louisville and kept there until the following June, when they were brought back to Jackson under military guard and tried.
Jason Little was tried and found guilty but managed to get a sentence of life in prison and, after serving a little more than five years in the penitentiary, was pardoned and came home. Others took to the hills. Some came back and surrendered when things cooled off. Big John Aikman went over into Letcher County, where he was reported to be a hired gunman in the Wright-Jones feud. But Governor McCreary, irritated by the cavalier attitude of the Breathitt feudists toward the law, sent troops after him, found him hiding at the home of a half-brother, and brought him back for trial. He was sentenced to twenty years in the penitentiary but served only a little over a year before he was pardoned. He came home to Breathitt and got mixed up in the Marcum-Hargis War, the worst of the Breathitt blood-lettings.
The Little-Burnett feud was pretty well over. How many people had been killed is hard to calculate. Counting casualties in the Strong-Noble fights and the Strong-Amis feud, as many as seventy-five may have fallen. It was later estimated that more than a hundred were killed by the turn of the century, but such figures are estimates.
And little had been accomplished. At the election of a county judge to succeed the fallen Burnett, James Lindon was elected. Since Lindon was new to Breathitt County and had no long-standing ties to any faction, everyone assumed that he was an ally of his wife’s brother, James B. Marcum, who would later become a main figure in Breathitt’s worst feud. Charles Little, deputy sheriff and cousin of Jason, was elected sheriff to succeed Hagins. Any progress toward reform achieved in the Burnett-Hagins years was forgotten.
Mt. Pleasant, later renamed Harlan, looks placid enough in this photo, but it was the site of the Turner-Howard feud, which kept things stirred up for years. All Wilse Howard had to do was threaten to burn it down and the whole town went into a panic.
Harlan County Courthouse around 1880. At least one good gunfight of the Turner-Howard feud took place here. Both from R. C. Ballard Thruston Collection, The Filson Club Historical Society.
a drawing of Wilson (Wilse) Howard, leader of the Howard family in its feud with the Turners, and usually considered the villain of the feud—though several others were equally qualified.
Mrs. George Turner, who might have stopped the feud but apparently had no desire to do so. Both from the Courier-Journal, Louisville. Berry Howard
saw his kinsmen involved in both the Turner-Howard feud in Harlan County and the bloody Clay County War, though he was active in neither. He was acquitted of the assassination of Governor William Goebel. From Caleb Powers, My Story.
Jonathan K. Bailey and his happy family, shown in Mt. Pleasant around 1884. The Baileys were genera
lly allied with the Turners. Will Jennings, a leader of the Howards, went to prison for killing John Bailey, though Wilse Howard probably did it while shooting at a Turner.
the “Turner Mansion” in Harlan, home of the George Turner family, in 1884. Two of the Turner sons bled and died on the front porch. Both from R. C. Ballard Thruston Collection, The Filson Club Historical Society.
Curtis Jett, the infamous and reckless gunman convicted in the 1903 killing of J. B. Marcum in the Marcum-Hargis-Callahan feud in Breathitt County. He was just as mean as he looks in this retouched newspaper photo. After prison, he became a preacher of sorts, like a lot of the old gunmen. From the Courier-Journal, Louisville.
J. B. Marcum, a power in Republican politics and one of the most prominent attorneys in Eastern Kentucky. He tried to end the feud and save his own life with an appeal through the press, but failed. From the Courier-Journal, Louisville.
A sketch of Judge James Hargis of Breathitt County, from the Kansas City Star, January 25, 1931. Hargis, a wealthy merchant, a power in state Democratic politics, and leader of the Hargis-Callahan forces in their feud with the Marcum faction, helped make William Goebel governor and survived the feud, only to be killed by his son, Beach. Courtesy of Kentucky Explorer Magazine.
Devil Anse Hatfield (seated, second from left) surrounded by his lovely and lovable family, some carrying domestic implements, about 1897. Among Anse’s descendants was a governor of West Virginia. Courtesy of the West Virginia State Archives.
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