The Old Pike / A History of the National Road, with Incidents, Accidents, and Anecdotes Thereon

by Thomas B. Searight

SAMUEL LUMAN.

George Fisher was a stage driver, who left his footprints very plainly on the limestone dust of the road. He was noted for his daring in the manipulation of fiery steeds. A fractious team was stationed at Claysville, which was the terror of all the drivers on that section of the road. It “ran off” several times, once killing a passenger outright, and seriously injuring others. This occurred on Caldwell’s Hill, seven miles west of Washington, Pennsylvania. George Fisher was sent down from Washington to take charge of this team, and soon had it under complete control. He drove it many years without an accident. Fisher was a large, well proportioned, and fine looking man. He was driving the team mentioned in 1844, the year in which the celebrated political contest occurred, wherein James K. Polk and Henry Clay were opposing candidates for the presidency. Fisher was an ardent supporter of Polk, and quite bitter in his enmity against the Whigs. On the day of a large Whig meeting in Washington, an extra coach, not on regular time, but filled with passengers, passed over the road, going west. It fell to Fisher’s lot to haul this coach from Claysville to Roney’s Point, a relay beyond the State line, in Virginia. A delegation of Whigs, with banners and music, from West Alexander and vicinity, went up to Washington to attend the meeting, and on their return homeward in the evening, were overhauled by Fisher, who ran his team and coach into the Whig procession at several points, doing damage to buggies, carriages, and light wagons, and inflicting some quite serious personal injuries. Colin Wilson, a prominent citizen of Washington county at that date, was one of the persons injured by Fisher’s inroad, and was seriously hurt. Fisher, in extenuation of his apparently criminal conduct, pleaded the irritability of his team, that it became frightened by the banners and music, was unmanageable, and the injuries inflicted were not intentional on his part, but purely accidental. The reputation of the team for pettishness was well known in the neighborhood of the occurrence, and served as a plausible excuse, and really saved Fisher from prosecution, and probably consequent punishment, but all the Whigs of that neighborhood went to their graves under the solemn belief that Fisher “did it a purpose.” The following account of an accident, furnished by John Thompson, the old wagoner, no doubt relates to Fisher’s team previous to the date at which he took charge of it: In the month of October, 1843, a stage team started to run from the locust tree near Caldwell’s tavern. The driver lost control, and the team dashed down the long hill at a terrific gait. They kept in the road until Wickert’s bridge was reached, at which point the coach, team, passengers, driver and all were violently thrown over the bridge. A Mr. Moses, a Kentucky merchant, and his nephew, were sitting by the side of the driver, and all remained firmly in their seats until the collapse occurred. The Kentucky merchant had a leg badly crushed, and in two days after the accident died, and was buried in the old graveyard at Washington. Doctors Stevens and Lane, of Washington, were promptly summoned and did all that medical and surgical skill could devise to aid the unfortunate sufferer, but gangrene ensued and baffled it all. The driver was severely hurt, and nursed at the Caldwell House until the spring of 1844, when he recovered. The nephew of Mr. Moses and all the other passengers escaped without injury. The remains of Mr. Moses were subsequently removed from Washington by his relatives, and interred near his home in Kentucky. Wickert’s bridge is so called because a man of that name was murdered many years ago near it, and for a long time thereafter, according to neighborhood superstition, returned to haunt the bridge.

Daniel Leggett was an old stage driver, well known, and will be long remembered. He once had the distinction of hauling the celebrated Indian chief, Black Hawk, and his suite. The party ascended the Ohio river by steamboat, and took stage at Wheeling. Upon entering the coach at that point, Black Hawk showed shyness, fancying it might be a trap set for him by his pale faced enemies, and it required some persuasion by an interpreter, who accompanied his party, to induce him to enter and take a seat. The coach passed over the road without unusual incident until it reached Washington, Pennsylvania. Going down the main street of Washington, from the postoffice, which was in the neighborhood of the court house, the breast strap of one of the wheel horses broke, causing a precipitation of the coach upon the leaders, and the team becoming frightened, dashed down the street at fearful speed. One of the party of Indians was seated by the driver, and thrown off, carrying down with him the driver. The team, thus left without a driver, rushed headlong for the stable of the National House, and at the corner of Main and Maiden streets, the coach upset. It contained nine passengers, eight Indians and one half-breed. The first one to show up from the wreck was Black Hawk, who stood upright in the middle of the street, disclosing a single drop of blood on his forehead, and manifesting much excitement and indignation, as he uttered “Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!” The interpreter had an arm broken, which was the only serious casualty attending the accident. Black Hawk now became almost wholly irreconcilable. The interpreter tried to explain to him the true situation, and to assure him that no harm was aimed at him, but the dusky warrior repelled the approaches of the friendly mediator, and refused to be reconciled. He was now certain that the white men intended to kill him. After a little while the excitement abated, and with it the temper of the unfortunate Indian chieftain. He was persuaded to enter the tavern, and observing that the surroundings were not hostile, threw off his sullenness, and became somewhat sensible of the situation, and apparently reconciled to it. Another coach of the line was provided, and the party proceeded on their journey to parley with the Great Father of the White House. The occasion marked an era in the life and career of the old driver, Daniel Leggett, which he referred to with intense interest on frequent occasions throughout the remainder of his life. The Black Hawk incident occurred in 1837, when Van Buren was president.

Tobias Banner, as if to do justice to his name, was an imposing driver. He was a chum of Jerry McMullin, another old driver, and the two together enjoyed many a game of bluff, while their teams were quietly resting in the well furnished old stables. They were both mail drivers in and out from Washington. McMullin at one time to vary the monotony of stage life, made a trip to Stockton’s lane, in Greene county, to see the races, which occurred at regular periods at that place in that day. He engaged in a game of seven up, with a stalwart native of Greene county, for five dollars a side, and while he really won the game, his overgrown adversary claimed the stakes on an allegation of foul play. A quarrel and a fight ensued, and Jerry McMullin returned to Washington with a blackened eye and diminished purse, vowing that he would never venture upon mud roads again.

George McKenna drove first on the Oyster line and afterwards a stage team. He was a Greene county man, and brother-in-law of Morgan R. Wise. After he quit driving he set up an oyster saloon in Waynesburg, and finally engaged with a travelling menagerie and lost his life in a railroad accident between New York and Philadelphia.

Paris Eaches, a strangely sounding name now, but once familiar to the ear of every pike boy, was a well known and well liked driver. He radiated from Washington, Pennsylvania, but left his mark all along the line. He was a jolly fellow and enjoyed the excitement of the road. He was always a favorite at social parties of young folks, and entertained them with songs. He had a good voice and sang well. “I have left Alabama,” was one of his best songs, and he always sang it to the delight of his hearers.

Jack Bailiss was a widely known and popular driver, a married man, and a resident of Washington, Pennsylvania. He was accounted a reckless driver, and delighted in exciting the apprehension of his passengers, often filling them with terror by specimens of what they considered reckless driving. He knew the danger line however, and always kept within it. He drove the coach from Claysville to Washington, Pennsylvania, in which Gen. Taylor traveled on his way to the Capital to assume the Presidency.

Henry A. Wise, an old driver, is well remembered by the old people of the road on account of the quaintness of his character. He was not a driver on the National Road, but drove the mail coach from Uniontown to Morgantown, Virginia. Mr. Stockton had the contract for carrying the mail between these points, and Wise was his chief driver, and pursued this calling for many years. His headquarters in Uniontown were at the Old Hart tavern, Jackson’s favorite stopping place, now the Hotel Brunswick. He was driving on this route as early as 1836. He was an odd genius, as Mr. John E. Reeside says of him, a “typical tide water Virginian.” He claimed to be descended from blue blood, and simply drove stage for amusement. He always had plenty of slack in his reins, and as a consequence rarely kept his team straight in the road. It is said that on one occasion, while half asleep on the box, his team turned from the road through an open gap into a field, and commenced eagerly to graze on the growing clover. Wise was tall and spare, and habitually wore a high silk hat.

John Huhn was a driver west of Washington, Pennsylvania. He married a daughter of John McCrackin, a well known and prosperous farmer of the vicinity of Claysville. When stage lines dissolved and stage coaches no longer rattled over the old pike, John Huhn engaged in the tanning business at Claysville, and was successful.