He once lived up on Prospect Hill,
And sold his whisky by the gill.”
CRAZY BILLY.
The well known character brought to mind by the name of “Crazy Billy,” was at no time in his strange life engaged in any pursuit connected with the National Road, but his long stay at Uniontown, covering a period of fifty years and more, entitles him to a place in this history. He was well known to many of the stage drivers, wagoners and tavern keepers of the road, and to every man, woman and child in Uniontown. His name was William Stanford, and he was horn in England. It was evident that he had been well bred, and had received some education. He was often heard quoting from the liturgy of the Church of England. He was brought to Uniontown about the year 1829, and closely confined in the county jail. His first appearance in Fayette county was in Springhill township, whither he wandered without any apparent object, and no one knew whence he came. On a certain day of the year above mentioned, he was discovered alone in the house of one Crow, in the said township of Springhill. The Crow family had all been absent during the day, and upon their return in the evening were surprised to find an occupant within, and the doors and windows securely fastened. After reconnoitering the premises the family discovered that it was the manifest intention of the strange intruder to “hold the fort.” In this state of the case Mr. Crow proceeded to a neighboring justice of the peace, made complaint, and obtained a warrant, which was placed in the hands of the township constable, who with the aid of the local posse comitatus hastily summoned, entered the beleagured dwelling, arrested the intruder, took him to Uniontown, and lodged him in the county jail, in and around which he remained from that time until the date of his death, which occurred on the 26th day of January, 1883. Soon after his incarceration one John Updergraff was committed to the jail for disorderly conduct on the streets, and after the keys had been turned, “Billy” fell upon the new prisoner, and killed him outright. He was indicted and tried for murder, but acquitted on the plea of insanity, and remanded to jail. Henceforth, and to the time hereafter mentioned, he was heavily ironed and chained fast to the jail floor. William Snyder was elected sheriff in 1847, and a few months after his induction to the office, his wife, who was a good and discerning woman, observed some redeeming qualities in the nature of the chained lunatic, and concluded that it would be wise and safe, as well as humane, to remove his fetters. Accordingly with the aid of her son James, who was a sort of general deputy about the jail and office, she released “Billy” from the chains which had so long bound and chafed him, and permitted him to walk about his dingy cell, untramelled. Gradually he gained the confidence of the sheriff’s family and after a season was permitted to enter the official mansion, and move about at pleasure. He showed an inclination to care for the sheriff’s horses, and was permitted to feed and clean them, exhibiting much skill in this line. About this time, James Snyder having occasion to visit Monroe, told “Billy” that he might go with him if he chose. Pleased with the opportunity, “Billy” placed saddles and bridles on two horses, mounted one himself, and Snyder the other, and off they sped to Monroe. It was an agreeable trip to “Billy”; the first time in many years, that he had enjoyed the privilege of seeing the country and snuffing the pure air of liberty. After this, he rode out frequently with the deputy to various parts of the county; but his mind was never fully restored. He was incoherent, and given to unintelligible mutterings. As time wore on, the people of the town became familiar with “Crazy Billy,” and as before stated everybody knew him. He carried letters, and performed errands for the county officers, for many years, and up to the date of his last illness, and his fidelity was proverbial. Nothing could divert him from the faithful execution of any little mission he undertook. In addition to his constant mutterings before alluded to, he was a habitual scribbler. He entered any of the offices in the court house at pleasure, and invariably sat down and began to scribble. He wrote a fairly good hand, but there was no intelligence in his writing, or rather no connected thought. One of his favorite lines was this: “I am a bold boy in his prime.” He would write this as often as a dozen times a day. Another of his favorite screeds was this:
“He drew his sword and pistol,
And made them for to rattle,
And the lady held the horse,
While the soldier fought the battle.”