CHAPTER IX.
ANDREW JACKSON, DEPUTY SHERIFF AND FIREMAN.
Russell Bean was not distinguished alone because he was the first white child born within the limits of what is today the state of Tennessee: he was said to have been the most perfect specimen of manhood in the whole country, without an equal for strength, activity and physical endurance, and absolutely devoid of fear. He was a genius, also: he was a gunsmith by trade, and it was said that he could make more implements of war and other things of utility, with fewer tools, than any other man ever known in that day and country. He went to Connecticut, soon after he reached manhood, and brought back with him to the western world a supply of what were then modern tools and supplies, with which he established a kind of manufactory of arms, etc.
Bean had a flat-bottomed boat built under his directions, and with a cargo of arms of his manufacture, consisting of rifles, pistols, dirks, etc., he went alone down the Nolichucky to the Tennessee, thence to the Ohio, and down the Mississippi to New Orleans, where he remained for about two years, engaged in foot races, horse racing, cock-fighting and other sports of the times in that then great city. On returning to Jonesboro, he found his wife—who was a daughter of Col. Charles Roberson, and had borne him several children—nursing an infant. Her seducer, it was said, was a merchant of the town named Allen. Bean left the house without a word, got drunk, came back, took the baby out of the cradle, and deliberately cut off both its ears close up to its head, saying that he “had marked it so that it would not get mixed up with his children.” He was arrested and, court being in session, he was tried and convicted of this act of inhuman cruelty, and sentenced, in addition to other punishment, to be branded in the palm of the hand. This was done; whereupon he immediately bit out of his hand the part containing the brand, and spat it upon the ground. He was also imprisoned, but soon escaped from jail, and was allowed to remain at large, for the reason that the officers were afraid of him. His wife soon got a divorce from him; but he was determined to kill Allen, and it was known that on several occasions he had secretly watched for him. Failing to get a chance at Allen, who was really in hiding, Bean sought a difficulty with Allen’s brother, whom he assaulted and beat unmercifully. For this he was indicted; but, up to the time that court met with Jackson on the bench, the officers had not been able to arrest him, or at all events they had not arrested him. They reported to Judge Jackson that they could not take Bean; that he was out at his cabin, on the south side of the town, armed, sitting constantly, when at home, in the door, with his rifle by his side and his pistols in his lap, defying arrest and threatening to kill the first man who approached his house. Such was the report made in open court to Judge Jackson, who immediately ordered: “Summon every man in the court house, and bring Bean in here dead or alive.” Thereupon the sheriff, with a grim humor which does him infinite credit, responded, “Then I summon your honor first!” Jackson at once left the bench, exclaiming, “By the Eternal, I’ll bring him!”—and he did. He found Bean sitting in his door, as described by the officers. Jackson approached, pistol in hand, followed by the crowd at a respectful distance. When he got within shooting distance. Bean arose, called out, “I’ll surrender to you, Mr. Devil!” and laid down his arms. Jackson took him to the court room, where he was tried and fined heavily.
This is the story of the Bean incident, as always told by the old people in Washington county. Russell Bean was a man of fine appearance and engaging manners. He was not only a genius, but he was “well read” for that era, and had picked up, on his trip to Connecticut and at New Orleans, a great deal of information with reference to other nations and their affairs. He could have been a leader, but for some infirmities and peculiarities.
When Parton was preparing his life of Jackson, some one gave him the information that Col. Charles Roberson, Bean’s father-in-law, was “an illiterate old man, who had fought under Sevier at King’s Mountain and made campaigns against the Indians.” This statement, unqualified, does Col. Roberson injustice. He was one of the heroes of King’s Mountain, and had engaged in many campaigns against the Indians. He was not an educated man, but the various responsible positions to which he was appointed, including that of chairman of the Court of Pleas and Quarter Sessions, according to early records at Jonesboro, and speaker of the Senate in the last General Assembly of the State of Franklin, 1787, testify to his intelligence, as well as the esteem and confidence in which he was held by his countrymen.
Bean’s divorced wife married again, and moved to Knoxville, where the unfortunate child died, as did also her second husband. In the course of a few years, Bean himself drifted to Knoxville, where Jackson met him and, it is said, brought about a reconciliation between him and his former wife. They were remarried, and lived happily until the death of Bean.
Parton fixes the date of the fire incident at Jonesboro at the time of the Bean incident—after Jackson had been appointed judge. The date is not material, but Parton’s information must have been incorrect, or the date of the fire incident, as recollected and given by aged persons who remembered it and recounted it as late as twenty years ago, was wrong. According to these old citizens, the fire in which Jackson distinguished himself was in 1798, while he was stopping in Jonesboro on his way to Nashville from Philadelphia, after he had resigned the position of United States Senator. Court was in session, however, when the fire occurred, as stated by Parton, and Jackson was there mingling with his friends. He had been there for a few days previous to the fire, and continued his stay in town for a few days afterward. He was not stopping at the tavern, but was the guest of one of the families.
The fire originated, near midnight, in the stable that belonged to and was near the Rawlings tavern. It was soon in a blaze throughout, and there was no thought of an effort to save it, as it was filled with hay, oats, fodder, etc. Attention was turned to the tavern, which stood some two hundred and fifty feet from a creek which runs through the center of the town. The alarm of fire and the call for help brought out the entire population, filling the few streets of the village with men, women and children. When Jackson appeared on the scene, Ben Boyd, an Irish coppersmith, was calling loudly for buckets and yelling to the crowd to form a line to the creek; but nobody was paying any attention to him. Jackson, as was his custom, immediately took command, and began ordering everybody to get into line, actually taking hold of men and women and putting them in position, calling for buckets, and directing the keeper of the tavern to get all of the blankets in the house and spread them all over the roof. In a few minutes Jackson had formed two lines from the house to the creek, the lines facing each other and six or eight feet apart; along one line empty buckets were passed to the creek, and the full buckets back up the other line to the tavern, which was the only house in immediate danger. Jackson would appear, one moment, on the roof, calling down to those in the lines to stand firm and hurry up the water, and the tavern and town would be saved; the next seen of him, he would be passing up and down the lines, urging order and discipline. He was everywhere, and always at the place where his presence seemed most needed. The tavern was saved, and nothing burned but the stable. “Jackson saved the town with his bucket brigade,” was on every lip.
Parton brings Benjamin Boyd to the attention of the nation, in connection with this fire incident, by saying that, “while Gen. Jackson was strengthening that part of his line near the creek, a drunken coppersmith named Boyd, who said that he had seen fires at Baltimore, began to give orders and annoy persons in the line. Jackson shouted at Boyd to fall in line, who continued jabbering. Jackson seized a bucket by the handle, knocked him down, and walked along the line giving orders as coolly as before.” Ben Boyd’s part in and connection with the fire incident, as detailed to me “often and again” by persons who knew all the facts, does not agree with Parton’s account in some particulars. What is believed to be the true narrative is here given.
Benjamin Boyd was an Irishman, as was Andrew Jackson. He was a coppersmith by trade, got drunk occasionally, and was drunk on the night of the fire. He was somewhat chagrined at the idea of Jackson appropriating his suggestion of a bucket-line to the creek; and after Jackson had succeeded in doing what he could not do, and, as Boyd said, was “strutting around giving orders,” the two men met near the creek. Boyd said to Jackson, “I have seen and fought fires in Philadelphia before you were born,” and continued to growl at Jackson, who ordered him to “get in line or get out of the way.” Boyd, who was a fearless man, made some insolent reply, when Jackson, seizing a bucket of water, threw its contents on the irate Irishman, and passed along the line, leaving Boyd swearing, “By the Holy Virgin, I’ll whip you before you leave this town!” John Chester, with whom Boyd lived and died at Jonesboro, made him go to his little house, which stood in the corner of Chester’s yard; and this ended the matter.[Q]
“Jackson’s bucket brigade” has often saved property in the ancient town, within the century, now almost rounded out, that followed its organization and first service.