Author: Alan E. Hunter- Irvington

Alan E. Hunter’s column, “Bumps in the Night”, has run on the front page of the Weekly View / Eastside Voice / Eastside Herald newspaper in Irvington on the east side of Indianapolis since 2007. Al’s Pop culture-based articles have been the genesis of several national and local television and radio programs over the years spurring programs on subjects as varied as John Dillinger, Abraham Lincoln, Charles Manson, the ABA Indiana Pacers, and Burger Chef to the mysterious disappearance of ABA star John Brisker and all points in between. Alan E. Hunter is the author of the books “The Petersen House, the Oldroyd Museum and the House Where Lincoln Died“, “Thursdays with Doc. Dr. Wayne C. Temple’s recollections on Springfield and Lincoln“, “Osborn H. Oldroyd: Keeper of the Lincoln Flame“, and has co-authored two books on the Historic Indiana National Road. Al has researched, scripted, and led the Irvington Ghost Walks since 2002. Al’s tours are roughly 75% history and 25 % ghost stories and folklore. These non-profit tours raise much-needed funds for the Eastside Irvington community. In addition, Al has led similar tours in Greenfield and Cambridge City on the Historic National Road. Al is a former Vice-President and board member of the Indiana National Road Association. Al served as the historian and event coordinator for the Dropping Dimes Foundation which aids the former players of the ABA (American Basketball Association). Al also organized both the 30-year reunion of the ABA held at the Hoosier Dome in 1997 and the 50-year reunion of the ABA festivities at Bankers Life Fieldhouse on the campus of Butler University on Saturday, April 7, 2018. Al has co-authored two books on haunted Irvington. In 2013, Al published a compilation of his “Bumps in the Night” articles selected from his column in the Weekly View newspaper. Al also wrote a book on “Haunted Indianapolis” and most recently, a book on the H.H. Holmes relic collection for the benefit of the Irvington Historic Society and the Bona Thompson Memorial Center. The relics detailed in the books were featured in the History Channel 8-part series “American Ripper.” Al and his wife Rhonda appeared in 3 of the segments alongside the Great-great-grandson Jeff Mudgett. Al was featured in the November 21, 2018, episode of Mysteries at the Museum with Don Wildman where he detailed a scalpel used by America’s first serial killer, H.H. Holmes, in Irvington. Al was also featured in the October 9, 2019, episode of Ghost Adventures with Zak Bagans in which he detailed the history of the H.H. Holmes house in Irvington. Over the decade, Al has led talks and programs in Irvington that have collected food and personal care items for the Irvington homeless shelter, gathering well over a ton of food, clothing, and personal care goods for distribution. A former teacher and baseball coach at Westfield High School, Al graduated from Indiana University and has been married to his wife Rhonda since 1989. They have 2 children, Jasmine and Addison.

9475088_123705676279 Original publish date: December 14, 2013

This past November, I shared with you a series of articles commemorating the 150th anniversary of Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg address. The speech is well known to most Americans and the words Mr. Lincoln spoke that day were once required memorization for every student in this country. The minutia surrounding the speech would make a Hollywood script writer salivate; Lincoln’s son Tad was left behind at the White House with a raging fever, Lincoln was asked to attend the cemetery dedication as an afterthought, the ground upon which he spoke was literally still wet with the blood of dead American soldiers and now Lincoln himself was showing signs of the fevered weakness of smallpox.
By all accounts, it was Lincoln’s African American valet William H. Johnson who identified the symptoms, alleviated the problem and nursed the President back to health. What? A black man saved Abraham Lincoln’s life after Gettysburg? Why have we never heard of William H. Johnson? Almost all that is known of him comes from Lincoln’s Papers. Although recently, Hollywood tried to put it’s own spin on the good Mr. Johnson. In the entirely forgettable 2012 film “Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter”, they replaced the young railsplitter’s literary “sidekick” with his White House Valet, William Johnson, played by actor Anthony Mackie. Did I mention that was Hollywood though? Now, let me tell you the real story and let’s try to set the record straight.
William Henry Johnson was born around 1835 in a site unknown. He was described as a free “colored man” who came with the Lincoln family from Springfield Illinois to become the newly elected President’s valet and barber. He has no surviving photograph, and we can only speculate as to his age. He was, however, very close to the president. He had been serving Mr. Lincoln for about a year when his employer wrote him a note of recommendation on March 7, 1861. Seems that even a President had to get confirmation for a desired new hire back in those days. It stated: “Whom it may concern. William Johnson, a colored boy, and bearer of this, has been with me about twelve months; and has been, so far, as I believe, honest, faithful, sober, industrious, and handy as a servant. A. LINCOLN.” Although he served as the President’s valet, the President’s House Register listed him in 1861 as “W. H. Johnson, Fireman, President’s House, $600 per annum.”
It appears that there was antagonism toward Johnson from the start. Some believe it was due to Mr. Johnson’s close relationship with the President. Most of the opposition came from the existing White House staff, who were generally lighter skinned, “high yellow”, that is to say, almost white. So, a White House job was apparently out of the question. President Lincoln sought other employment for Johnson only days after his inauguration. In a letter to Navy Secretary Gideon Welles on March 7, 1861, the President asked the secretary to give employment to W. Johnson, “a servant who has been with me for some time.” In that same letter, Lincoln notes that “The difference of color between him & other servants is the cause of our separation.” explained Lincoln. “I have confidence as to his integrity and faithfulness.” Even though Welles was as close a friend as Lincoln had in all of Washington, his plea evidently fell on deaf ears.
In a subsequent letter to Salmon Chase, he successfully sought a position for Johnson in the Treasury Department. On November 29,1861, Lincoln wrote Treasury Secretary Salmon P. Chase: “You remember kindly asking me, some time ago whether I really desired you to find a place for William Johnson, a colored boy who came from Illinois with me. If you can find him the place shall really be obliged. Yours truly A. LINCOLN.” He was then given a place as laborer / messenger with the Treasury Department at $600 per year. From then on, he worked for the Treasury in the afternoon and tended to Lincoln’s wardrobe, shaved him, and did other personal services for Mr. Lincoln in the morning and evening.
On March 11, 1862, the President wrote Johnson a personal check for $5. October 24, 1862, again found Lincoln writing a recommendation for him reading: “The bearer of this, William Johnson (colored), came with me from Illinois; and is a worthy man, as I believe. A. LINCOLN.” Nevertheless, on December 17, 1862 the President declined to endorse a memo for Johnson because he did not want it to be mistaken as an order for employment. The memorandum, referring to a request for leave of absence for his valet in order to earn extra money, reads: “I decline to sign the within, because it does not state the thing quite to my liking. The colored man William Johnson came with me from Illinois, and I would be glad for him to be obliged, if he can be consistently with the public service; but I can not make an order about it, nor a request which might, in some sort, be construed as an order. A. LINCOLN.”
gettysburg-train- On November 18, 1863, Lincoln wrote a note explaining that Johnson would travel with him to Gettysburg for the dedication of the soldiers’ cemetery. The note, written to the Treasury Department, asks to borrow Johnson’s services for a “whole day or two” and closes simply: “William goes with me.” Mrs. Lincoln remained at the White House attending to their son Tad. Once in Gettysburg. After delivering his address, Lincoln began to feel ill and while aboard the return train to Washington “lay in a relaxed position with a wet towel across his head,” placed there by Johnson. The details of the President’s recovery were covered in detail in part III of the November Lincoln at Gettysburg series. Although the President would recover, Mr. Lincoln may have unwittingly passed the illness on to his valet.
The story of Johnson’s death is not much clearer than that of his life, since the chaos of war left death and burial records in disarray. What we know is that by by January 12, 1864 Johnson was himself sick with smallpox. By the 28th, he was dead. In a January 12th interview with the Chicago Tribune, Lincoln told the reporter than he didn’t believe that he gave smallpox to Johnson. But based on the late November speech date, given the incubation period of about two weeks and the average time for the illness to run its fatal course, that’s about the right timing for a disease contracted while caring for Lincoln. However, if it was circulating around residents and staff at the White House, it is possible that Johnson contracted it from someone else.
Abraham-Lincoln colorized During that Chicago Tribune interview, the journalist found Abraham Lincoln busy counting greenbacks. The money belonged to Johnson who was in the hospital, so sick that he could not even draw his pay. “This, sir, is something out of my usual line,” the president told the reporter, “but a president of the United States has a multiplicity of duties not specified in the Constitution or acts of Congress. This is one of them. This money belongs to a poor negro [Johnson] who is a porter in one of the departments (the Treasury) and who is at present very bad with the smallpox. He did not catch it from me, however; at least I think not. He is now in hospital, and could not draw his pay because he could not sign his name. I have been at considerable trouble to overcome the difficulty and get it for him, and have at length succeeded in cutting red tape, as you newspaper men say. I am now dividing the money and putting by a portion labeled, in an envelope, with my own hands, according to his wish.”
After Johnson’s passing, Lincoln learned that his friend had borrowed $150 from the First National Bank of Washington using Lincoln as a reference. The bank’s cashier, William J. Huntington, happened to mention the outstanding notes to Lincoln: “the barber who used to shave you, I hear, is dead.”
“‘Oh, yes,’ interrupted the President, with feeling; ‘William is gone. I bought a coffin for the poor fellow, and have had to help his family.’” When Huntington said the bank would forgive the loan, Lincoln replied emphatically: “No you don’t. I endorsed the notes, and am bound to pay them; and it is your duty to make me pay them.”
“Yes,” said the banker, “but it has long been our custom to devote a portion of our profits to charitable objects; and this seems to be a most deserving one.” When the president rejected that argument, Huntington said: “Well, Mr. Lincoln, I will tell you how we can arrange this. The loan to William was a joint one between you and the bank. You stand half of the loss, and I will cancel the other.” After thinking it over, Lincoln said: “Mr. Huntington, that sounds fair, but it is insidious; you are going to get ahead of me; you are going to give me the smallest note to pay. There must be a fair divide over poor William. Reckon up the interest on both notes, and chop the whole right straight through the middle, so that my half shall be as big as yours. That’s the way we will fix it.” Huntington agreed, saying: “After this, Mr. President, you can never deny that you endorse the negro.” “That’s a fact!” Lincoln exclaimed with a laugh; “but I don’t intend to deny it.”
Although the exact day of Johnson’s death is not known we do know that on January 28, 1864, Lincoln wrote a recommendation for Solomon James Johnson (it’s unknown if he was related) to Treasury Secretary Salmon P. Chase: “This boy says he knows Secretary Chase, and would like to have the place made vacant by William Johnson’s death. I believe he is a good boy and I should be glad for him to have the place if it is still vacant. A. LINCOLN.”
While he shared a racial view typical of many white northern moderates, Lincoln clearly thought highly of Johnson. The incident reveals Lincoln’s humanity at its best. The working relationship between the two men attests to the complex and even enigmatic nature of Lincoln’s racial attitudes in general. Indeed, the mystery that surrounds Johnson’s death, and Lincoln’s sense of responsibility for it, tells us much about the “Great Emancipator’s” complex relationship with African Americans and their quest for full citizenship.
Lincoln requested that his valet be buried on the Arlington Mansion grounds (the Custis-Lee estate’s official conversion to Arlington National cemetery was still several months away) and used his own personal funds to pay all funeral service expenses including the tombstone. That original stone no longer exists. He now rests under a circa-1990s Era government issued stone with the name and a single word added by his friend, the President of the United States, Abraham Lincoln. While no-one will ever truly know the depth of the personal relationship between the two men, the depth of respect can not be denied. The headstone, found in Plot 3346- Section 27 of Arlington National Cemetery, reads simply: “WILLIAM H JOHNSON. CITIZEN.”

Music

Jim Croce. The Day the Music Died… for me.

April 24, 2018April 24, 2018 Alan E. Hunter- Irvington

Jim-Croce-r01 Original publish date: September 18, 2013

But February made me shiver~With every paper I’d deliver~Bad news on the doorstep~I couldn’t take one more step~I can’t remember if I cried~When I read about his widowed bride~But something touched me deep inside~The day the music died~Bye-bye, Miss American Pie~Drove my Chevy to the levy~But the levy was dry~And them good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye~Singing this’ll be the day that I die.

I don’t know what that song means to you, but for me, it brings back a sad memory from my childhood. I know why it was written. Although Don McLean has never clearly defined the meaning of the song, he dedicated the album to Buddy Holly. And though it is clearly an homage to Buddy Holly, Richie Valens and the Big Bopper, none of the artists are mentioned by name in the song. When asked to decipher the lyrics, McLean explained, “You will find many interpretations of my lyrics but none of them by me…They’re beyond analysis. They’re poetry…Sorry to leave you all on your own like this but long ago I realized that songwriters should make their statements and move on, maintaining a dignified silence.”

The song was released in 1971 and eventually rose to number-one on the U.S. charts, where it remained for four weeks in 1972. It is generally considered to be one of the finest rock / pop songs ever written and anyone born before 1980 can sign the song word-for-word. It’s one of those songs that if most people were awakened at 3 in the morning and asked to sing it, they could.

JimCroce1973 To me, it reminds me of a day 40 years ago this week, September 20, 1973. The day Jim Croce died. Like McLean in 1959, I was a paperboy in 1973 and I discovered the news by cutting open my stack of newspapers in preparation for fold-and-deliver. As fate would have it, the news came across the AM radio at exactly the same I was opening my stack. I don’t consider myself a die-hard Jim Croce fan. I listen to his songs occasionally and still believe that “Bad, Bad Leroy Brown” ranks with Mclean’s “American Pie” as one of the greatest American pop songs ever written, but that’s about it. Still, I can remember the moment of that tragic discovery as if it happened yesterday.

It seemed to me that Croce’s death was not unlike a Greek tragedy. Here was a man who, but all accounts, was a very nice guy. Everyone who knew him, liked him. He had worked hard for a decade to become an overnight sensation and died tragically just as he was reaching the top. Being the morose child I was and the nostalgic person I have become, I couldn’t help but wonder what might have been had Croce lived. With his natural ability to spin a phrase within a musical story, there can be little doubt that we lost many classic songs when that plane went down. Keep in mind, I’m still mad at John Belushi for checking out too soon. Although I love John Candy, Belushi would have owned that Uncle Buck movie. But that’s ANOTHER story.

Croce’s death was a blow to me. True, it came after the deaths of Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Duane Allman and Gram Parsons (who died the day before Croce’s death), but these deaths seemed almost predictable. After all, the string of “death by lifestyle” in the music business stretches all the way back to Hank Williams, Brian Jones, Robert Johnson and Frankie Lyman. But Croce’s sudden passing, like Holly/Valens/Richardson a generation before and Otis Redding contemporarily, was different. Sudden, shocking, unexpected, undeserved perhaps?

Jim Croce’s life story can’t help but bring a smile to anyone who hears it. He was born in South Philly on January 10, 1943. Jimmy took a strong interest in music and by age five, he had learned his first song on the accordion: “Lady of Spain.” Croce did not take music seriously until he studied at Villanova, where he formed bands and performed at fraternity parties, coffee houses, and universities around Philadelphia, playing “anything that the people wanted to hear: blues, rock, acappella, railroad music… anything.” Croce’s band was chosen for a foreign exchange tour of Africa, Middle East, and Yugoslavia. He later said, “we just ate what the people ate, lived in the woods, and played our songs. Of course they didn’t speak English over there but if you mean what you’re singing, people understand.” Croce met his future wife Ingrid Jacobson at a “hootenanny” at the Philadelphia Convention Hall, where he was judging a contest.

From the mid-1960s to early 1970s, Croce performed with his wife as a duo. At first, their performances included covers by Gordon Lightfoot, Joan Baez, and Woody Guthrie, but in time they began writing their own music. Croce and Ingrid married in 1966, and Jim converted to Judaism, as his wife was Jewish. This in spite of the fact that he was generally anti-organized religion.

He enlisted in the Army National Guard that same year to avoid being drafted and deployed to Vietnam. Jim served on active duty for four months, leaving just a week after his honeymoon. Croce, who was not good with authority, had to go through basic training twice. He said he would be prepared if “there’s ever a war where we have to defend ourselves with mops”.

In 1968, the Croces’ moved to New York City, settling in the Bronx, where they recorded their first album with Capitol Records. During the next two years, they drove more than 300,000 miles, playing small clubs and college concerts promoting their album.
Becoming disillusioned by the music business and New York City, they sold all but one guitar to pay the rent and returned to the Pennsylvania countryside, settling in an old farm in Lyndell. Croce got a job driving trucks and working construction to pay the bills. All the while Jim continued to write songs, many featuring the characters he met at local bars, truck stops and jobsites.

The couple returned to Philadelphia and Croce decided to be “serious” about becoming a productive member of society. He landed a job at a Philadelphia R&B AM radio station, WHAT, where he translated commercials into “soul”. “I’d sell airtime to Bronco’s Poolroom and then write the spot: “You wanna be cool, and you wanna shoot pool… dig it.” See what I mean? Croce’s story brings a smile to your face.

In 1972, Croce signed a three-record deal with ABC Records and released two albums, “You Don’t Mess Around with Jim” and “Life and Times”. The singles “You Don’t Mess Around with Jim”, “Operator (That’s Not the Way It Feels)”, and “Time in a Bottle” received heavy airplay and “Bad, Bad Leroy Brown” hit No. 1 on the American charts in July of 1973. By then, the Croces’ had again relocated to San Diego, California.

As his career picked up, Croce began touring the country performing gigs in large coffee houses, on college campuses, and at folk festivals. The music business in 1973 was by no means the mega-millions business to has become today and the Croce’s financial situation remained dire. The record company had fronted him the money to record the album, and much of the money the album earned went to repay that advance. In February 1973, Croce traveled to Europe playing concerts in London, Paris, and Amsterdam to rave reviews. Croce also began appearing on television, principally Don Kirshner’s Rock Concert and The Midnight Special, which he co-hosted. Croce finished recording the album “I Got a Name” one week before his death. After nonstop touring, Croce grew increasingly homesick, and decided to take a break from music and settle down with his wife and infant son after his “Life and Times” tour was completed.

rs-183425-144972709 On Thursday, September 19, 1973, Croce’s single “I Got a Name” was released. The next day, after a gig at Northwestern State University’s Prather Coliseum, Jim Croce and five others boarded a chartered Beechcraft E18S twin-engine airplane taking off from the Natchitoches Regional Airport in Natchitoches, Louisiana. The group included musician, songwriter Maury Muehleisen, an artist best known for his live accompaniment with, and strong influence on, the Jim Croce sound. Along with comic George Stevens, Croce’s opening act, manager and booking agent Kenneth D. Cortose, road manager Dennis Rast, and pilot Robert N. Elliott. Croce was flying to Sherman, Texas, for a gig at Austin College.

At 10:45 pm, less than an hour after Croce walked off the stage, the plane crashed after take off. Everyone on board was killed instantly. The plane traveled an estimated 250 yards south of the runway rising some 30 feet in the air before clipping a tree. Investigators said the tree, a large pecan, was the only tree for hundreds of yards. The weather was dark, but with a clear sky, calm winds, and over five miles of visibility with light haze. At the time of the crash, Sheriff Sam James said. “For some reason they didn’t gain altitude fast enough. It flipped, landed upright and was turned completely around.” The pilot, was thrown clear of the wreckage. The other victims were found in the plane.

The official report from the NTSB listed the probable cause as the pilot’s failure to see and avoid obstructions due to pilot physical impairment and fog obstructing vision. The 57-year-old charter pilot suffered from severe coronary artery disease and had run three miles to the airport from a motel. He had an ATP Certificate, 14,290 hours total flight time and 2,190 hours in the Beech 18 type. A later investigation placed sole blame for the accident on pilot error due to his downwind takeoff into a “black hole”.

The album “I Got a Name” was released on December 1, 1973. The posthumous release included three hits: “Workin’ at the Car Wash Blues”, “I’ll Have to Say I Love You in a Song”, and the title song. The album reached No. 2 and “I’ll Have to Say I Love You in a Song” reached No. 9 on the singles chart. The news of the singer’s death sparked a renewed interest in Croce’s previous albums. Consequently, three months later on December 29, 1973, “Time in a Bottle”, originally released on Croce’s first album the year before, hit number one. It became the third posthumous chart-topping song of the rock era following Otis Redding’s “Dock of the Bay” and Janis Joplin’s “Me and Bobby McGee”. A greatest hits package entitled Photographs & Memories was released in 1974.

Jim Croce was buried at Haym Salomon Memorial Park in Frazer, Pennsylvania just outside of Philadelphia. A letter Jim had written to his wife Ingrid arrived after his death. In that poignant letter Croce stated his intention to quit music and stick to writing short stories and movie scripts as a career. In essence, Jim intended to withdraw from public life to spend more time with his wife and unborn child. The song “Time in a Bottle”, which hit number one after Jimmy died, was written for his then-unborn son, A. J. Croce. How can you not be touched by such a story? This week, kiss your wife or significant other. Hug or call your kid. And in short, enjoy life for a moment. If not for yourself, do it for Jim.

Assassinations, Politics

Richard Lawrence and Old Hickory. Andrew Jackson Assassination Attempt.

April 24, 2018February 8, 2025 Alan E. Hunter- Irvington

Jackson attempt January 30 photo Original publish date: January 24, 2014

Who is Richard Lawrence and why should you care? In the next few minutes, I’ll introduce you to him, but as for caring, I’ll leave that up to you. Richard Lawrence was a house painter by trade. More importantly, he was the first known person to attempt to assassinate a President of the United States. Still doesn’t ring a bell? Don’t feel bad, the attempt came 179 years ago this week and the President in question was “Old Hickory”, Andrew Jackson.

President Andrew Jackson did not know him, which comes as no surprise when you realize that, at the time of the assassination attempt Lawrence did not even know himself. He believed himself to be King Richard III of England who died some 350 years before. Lawrence was born in England sometime around 1800-1801. His family emigrated to America when he was 12 years old and settled in Virginia near Washington, D.C. Lawrence’s childhood and early adult years were apparently normal.

Until January 30, 1835, when Lawrence attempted to shoot Jackson outside the United States Capitol, his life was an unremarkable one. Most of what we know of him comes from testimony at his trial. He was described by relatives and acquaintances as a “relatively fine young boy…” who was “reserved in his manner; but industrious and of good moral habits.” Historians speculate that exposure to chemicals contained in the house paints may have fried his brain.
Jackson-Assassination-attempt-Granger-1200X480 In November 1832, Lawrence announced to his family that he was returning to England. He left Washington, D.C. only to return a month later claiming that he decided not to go because it was too cold. Within weeks, he changed his mind and told friends & family that he was returning to England to study landscape painting. Lawrence left once again and got as far as Philadelphia before returning home. He told his family that the U.S. government had prevented him from traveling abroad and barred his planned return to England. He further claimed that while in Philadelphia, he read several newspaper stories about himself that were critical of his travel plans and his character. Lawrence told his family that he had no choice but to return to Washington, D.C. until such time as he could afford to hire his own ship and captain and sail away to England.
Oh yeah, he also quit his job. When questioned by his sister and brother-in-law with whom he was living, Lawrence stated that he did not need to work because the U.S. government owed him a large sum of money. Lawrence, now claiming to be King Richard III of England, believed he was owed money on two English estates that he owned. In time, Lawrence became convinced that President Jackson’s opposition to the establishment of a national bank was delaying payment on this imagined debt. He felt that if Jackson was no longer in office, Vice President Martin Van Buren would establish a national bank and allow Congress to pay him the money for his English estate claims.

Lawrence’s personality and outward appearance changed dramatically around this point. The once conservatively dressed Lawrence began buying expensive, flamboyant clothing which he changed three or four times a day. Lawrence also took to standing in the doorway of his home for hours staring blankly out into the street. Neighborhood children would jokingly address him as “King Richard”. This typically pleased Lawrence who failed to realize the children were making fun of him. He also became paranoid and hostile towards others. On one occasion, he threatened to kill a maid who he thought was laughing at him.

Lawrence also began verbally and physically abusing his family, mainly his sisters, over imagined slights. In one instance, he threatened to hit his sister with a paperweight because he believed she had been talking about him. At Lawrence’s trial, witnesses described the bizarre behavior he exhibited during this time. Several people testified that Lawrence would engage in nonsensical conversations with himself while others claimed he was prone to laughing and cursing fits.
In the weeks leading up to the assassination attempt, Lawrence began stalking Andrew Jackson. Witnesses often saw Lawrence sitting in his paint shop muttering to himself about President Jackson. On the day of the attempt, he was seen sitting in his shop reading a book and laughing. Lawrence suddenly got up and left the shop with a smile stating, “I’ll be damned if I don’t do it.”
On January 30, Jackson was attending the funeral of South Carolina congressman Warren R. Davis at the U.S. Capitol. Lawrence’s plan was to shoot Jackson as he entered the service but he was unable to get close enough to the President. However, as Jackson left the funeral, Lawrence positioned himself aside a pillar on the East Portico that Jackson would soon pass by. As Jackson passed, the slender man with a thick black beard stepped from behind the pillar, pointed a one shot Derringer pistol at Jackson’s heart from six feet away, and pulled the trigger. A shot was heard, but the bullet never left the chamber.

It was later determined that the percussion cap exploded, but the bullet did not discharge. Now, the deranged house painter found himself face-to-face with a formidable opponent. While everyone else ducked and covered, the enraged Jackson headed straight toward his attacker while raising his walking cane to throttle his attacker. Lawrence dropped the first gun, immediately pulled out a second gun, and again fired at the President’s heart. This time Lawrence squeezed the trigger at point-blank range, but it also misfired. This second shot reportedly went off like the first, with a loud bang, but again no bullet exited the chamber.
Jackson’s aides quickly wrestled Lawrence away from the president, leaving Jackson unharmed. It was probably a good thing for Lawrence that the sides pulled the hero of the battle of New Orleans off of him. Andrew Jackson is said to have killed 13 men in duels and had 3 bullets in his body to prove it. Ironically, one of those who rushed to the President’s aid that day was Congressman Davy Crockett, a staunch political enemy of Jackson, who nevertheless helped restrain the would-be assassin. Crockett later said. “I wanted to see the damnedest villain in the world and now I have seen him!” Witnesses claim that Jackson had to be pulled off of his attacker again and again as he continued to beat him with his hickory cane even after Lawrence was down and completely subdued. Witnesses claimed that Jackson was shouting “Let me alone! Let me alone! I know where this came from!”

Years earlier Jackson had advised a young man on how to wield a cane in combat. He warned that “a cane swung at head level was easy to deflect; rather one should take the stick so [held like a spear] and punch him in the stomach.” He described having once fought a man that way in Tennessee: “Sir, it doubled him up. He fell at my feet, and I stamped on him.” Richard Lawrence later told investigators that the only time he ever felt genuine fear was when he saw the 67-year-old President charge at him.

Needless to say, Jackson didn’t take kindly to this assassination attempt, but instead of getting angry, he got paranoid. At the time, Jackson’s Democrats and the Whigs were locked in a battle over Jackson’s attempt to dismantle the Bank of the United States. Old Hickory was not alone in his paranoia as his vice president, Martin Van Buren, thereafter carried two loaded pistols with him when visiting the Senate. Although Lawrence was found to be a mentally unstable individual with no connections to Jackson or his political rivals, to his dying day, Jackson believed that Lawrence had been hired by his Whig Party opponents to assassinate him.

Jackson also suspected a former friend and supporter turned adversary, Senator George Poindexter of Mississippi, to be involved in the murder for hire. He had hired Lawrence to paint his house just a few months before. Poindexter was unable to convince the voters back home in Mississippi that he was not involved in the plot. When his constituents left, many of his biggest supporters withdrew their support and he was unable to get re-elected. Jackson believed Senator John C. Calhoun was the main person behind the attempt, prompting Calhoun to make a statement on the U.S. Senate floor disavowing connection to the attack. Oddly, nobody ever denied Lawrence’s involvement in a plot, including the gunman himself.
ShootingatthePresidentTheRemarkableTrialofRichardLawrence Lawrence was brought to trial on April 11, 1835, at the District of Columbia City Hall. The prosecuting attorney was Francis Scott Key, author of the Star Spangled Banner. After only five minutes of deliberation, the jury found Lawrence “not guilty by reason of insanity.” In the years following his conviction, Lawrence was held by several institutions and hospitals. In 1855, he was committed to the newly opened Government Hospital for the Insane (later renamed St. Elizabeth’s Hospital) in Washington, D.C. There he remained until his death on June 13, 1861, almost 16 years to the day after his nemesis, Andrew Jackson, died on June 8, 1845.

Strangely enough, not only was Andrew Jackson our country’s first commander in chief to be chased by a nut with a gun, he was also the first president to be attacked physically. A year and a half before Lawrence jumped from behind that pillar to fire upon his president, Jackson ordered the dismissal of Robert B. Randolph from the Navy for embezzlement. On May 6, 1833, Jackson sailed on USS Cygnet to Fredericksburg, Virginia, where he was to lay the cornerstone of a monument near the grave of Mary Ball Washington, George Washington’s mother. During a stopover near Alexandria, Randolph appeared and struck the President, drawing a trickle of blood from the President’s mouth. Jackson was seated behind a table at the time, which no doubt lessened the affect of the attack (for both Jackson and his assailant). Randolph fled the scene chased by several members of Jackson’s party, including the well-known writer Washington Irving. Randolph ended up getting away scot-free when Jackson decided not to press charges.

While the finest doctors in Washington were busy listening to Lawrence’s claim to be the king of England, the police were testing “his majesty’s” misfired pistols. They worked perfectly. Astonished witnesses watched as bullets once intended for the President now plowed through inch-thick wood planks at 30 paces. It was later determined that the weapons Lawrence had chosen were known for being vulnerable to moisture and the weather on that date was extremely humid and damp. A century later, Smithsonian researchers conducted a study of Lawrence’s derringers, during which both guns discharged properly on the test’s first try. It was later determined that the odds of both guns misfiring during the assassination attempt were one in 125,000.

Many of Jackson’s contemporaries believed that Old Hickory had been protected by the same “Divine Providence” that protected the fledgling nation. This national pride was a large part of the Jacksonian cultural myth fueling American “Manifest Destiny” expansion in the 1830s. Senator Thomas Hart Benton, who had also once shot at Jackson himself, reflected that “two pistols-so well loaded, so coolly handled, and which afterward fired with such readiness, force, and precision-missing fire, each in its turn when leveled eight feet at the President’s heart . . . made a deep impression upon the public feeling, and irresistibly carried many minds to the belief in a superintending Providence.” To many Americans, Jackson’s survival could be nothing but the work of a higher power.
Ironically, after the attack, Jackson returned by carriage to the White House and got back to business immediately. Several concerned citizens rushed to the President only to find him “calm, cool, and collected as if nothing had happened.” Another visitor arrived an hour later to find Jackson bouncing a child playfully on his knee while discussing the incident with General Winfield Scott. That evening, a thunderstorm swept the D.C. area blanketing the Capitol in thunder, lightning, and sheets of rain. Conversely, most Washingtonians never realized the storm they had just averted. Had those pistols met their mark, a literal firestorm would have swept our young nation. Eventually, the incident fed the legend that became Old Hickory. Love him or hate him, there are no gray areas with Andrew Jackson. He was a true American original.

ABA-American Basketball Association, Indianapolis

Indiana Pacers Slick Leonard in Irvington

April 24, 2018 Alan E. Hunter- Irvington

Leonard Original publish date: November 1, 2013

Slick; a nickname that conjures up images of loud suits, a big smile and winning basketball. Bobby “Slick” Leonard is Indiana Pacers basketball, period. His trademark phrase (seriously he trademarked it), “Boom Baby”, sums up Slick’s personality better in two words better than anything I’ll write in this article. Everyone remembers Slick’s drive to lead the Indiana Pacers to greatness during the ABA Championship years. Most remember Slick’s stewardship of the Pacers during the team’s fledgling first seasons in the NBA. But many have forgotten just how great a player he was. In high school, college and the NBA, Slick was a solid star and a force to be reckoned with on the court.

William Robert “Slick” Leonard was born in Terre Haute on July 17, 1932. It was a Sunday and I suspect that somewhere nearby there must have been an old lace-up basketball swishing through a net at the exact moment he greeted this world because his would become the most basketball blessed life of that Hoosier generation. He would grow to become an impressive 6’3″ 185 lb guard for the “Black Cats” of Terre Haute Gerstmeyer High School where he was alternate on the 1950 Indiana all-star team. He would also excel as a tennis player, winning the state tennis championship as a senior.

Slick was heavily recruited by Indiana colleges, including Notre Dame, but finally landed with the Indiana University Hoosiers. As an aside, many of you know I collect oddball things. One of those “things” is a handwritten letter from a very young Bobby Leonard on the letterhead of the Central Hotel in “Terry Hot” in 1950. The letter was written to legendary Notre Dame football star & 3-time All-American basketball star Ed “Moose” Krause who had just taken over the job of Athletic Director for the Irish.

Knowing that Slick would become a hoops legend at I.U. makes the letter all the more interesting. It reads: “Dear Mr. Krause, I definitely would like to go to college, but I do not think I am financially able, I have had several letters from other schools, but it has always been my desire to attend Notre Dame. I like your set-up of not having co-eds as it gives the boys more time to attend to their studies. My grades were not so good during my first years in high school, but after I began to apply myself I have attained a “B” average. I will send you a copy of my grades as soon as possible. Sincerely, Bob Leonard”. The letter includes a separate sheet detailing his classes (Psychology, Print Shop, Sociology, Spanish, etc.) and, more importantly, his high school average and record for the Black Cats.

In spite of this letter’s intent, Slick became a star for Branch McCracken’s Hurryin Hoosiers squad. He captained two Big Ten championship teams and the 1953 NCAA championship team. Slick hit the game winning free throws that gave Indiana the victory over Phog Allen’s heavily favored Kansas Jayhawks team. Leonard was the Most Valuable Player for I.U. in 1952 and an All-Big Ten and All-American player in 1953 and 1954. As a sophomore he was MVP of the East-West college all-star game in Gotham Cities’ Madison Square Garden. The first player inducted into the Indiana University Sports Hall of Fame? Bob Leonard.

He was selected with the first pick of the second round of the 1954 NBA Draft. He spent the bulk of his seven-year professional playing career with the Lakers (four years in Minneapolis and the first year after the move to Los Angeles). He got the nickname “Slick” from a former Lakers teammate with a colorful nickname of his own, “Hot Rod” Hundley. After Bobby won a game of gin by blitzing a team truck driver after a game, Hundley said. “Boy, you sure are slick” and the name stuck. He spent his last two years with the Chicago Packers/Zephyrs, his final season as a player / coach. The team moved to Baltimore in 1964 where Slick coached them for one more year. For his seven years in the pros, Leonard earned less money overall than current Pacers shooting guard Paul George makes in one game.

In 1968, Leonard became the coach of the upstart ABA’s Pacers. He was “the coach” for the next 12 years including the first four in the NBA. Some of that time Slick also served as general manager. Leonard led the Pacers to three ABA championships before the ABA-NBA merger in June 1976. In the 8-year history of the ABA, Slick led the team to the Championship finals in 5 of those 8 seasons; the team never missed the playoffs.
Those 3 Championships are still to this day the only titles won by the Indiana Pacers. Although the NBA Pacers struggled during Slick’s tenure as coach, that was no reflection on this man’s ability. Speaking as a rabid fan who observed those early years, Slick never had a chance. Pacers management nearly gutted the team to meet the financial burdens imposed by the merger and never gave Slick the personnel to put together a winning team during those early NBA years.

I have a personal connection to those ABA teams, although it came long after that cork popped on the last bottle of locker room champagne. I organized and planned the ABA reunion in August of 1997 at the old Hoosier Dome. Former Pacers legend Bob Netolicky and team President Dick Tinkham steered the players and owners while my wife Rhonda & I handled many of the details. During that reunion, I witnessed firsthand how much the players loved and respected Bobby “Slick” Leonard. Not only Pacers players, but players from all around the league. I heard more than one millionaire ABA team owner present at that reunion claim that it was Slick and those great ABA Pacers teams that held that league together and brought it credibility.

Slick was the last Pacers coach at the State Fairgrounds Coliseum and the first coach at Market Square Arena. A good illustration of Bobby Leonard’s impact on Hoosier hoops, during the last practice at Market Square Arena after the players had left the floor, then Pacers coach Larry Bird asked for Slick to come out on the court. The legendary duo stood alone on the court in the house that Slick’s teams built. As the workers stood outside the perimeter poised and ready to tear up the floor, Larry legend threw a bounce pass to Slick and said, “I want you to take the last shot here.“ Of course, he made it.

Documantarian Ted Green, friend and subject of past columns, plans to follow-up to his popular film of last year, “Undefeated: The Roger Brown story” with a film about Bobby “Slick” Leonard titled “Bobby ‘Slick’ Leonard: Heart of a Hoosier”. I was honored to assist in a small way with that production and equally proud of Ted’s newest venture. Green, whose previous documentaries profiled John Wooden, Indiana war veterans and Indianapolis’ climb from sleepy “Naptown” to a Super Bowl site, believes that a film about Slick is the next natural step.

“Hoosiers forget what a great player Slick was. They remember him as a coach, but he was a helluva player. He has done basically everything there is to do in basketball and at all levels, and he did most of it right here.” says Green “Plus, I don’t think a lot of people are fully aware of the amazing contributions he’s made to the game beyond his success with the Pacers. That’s one of my goals with this film, to illuminate his remarkable run from the beginning, show people stuff they don’t know, and hopefully open some eyes nationally. I’ve already discovered a lot of things that I believe will do that.”

Knowing Ted, the project promises to be just as colorful as Slick himself. Although Slick is one of only five individuals in Pacers history to have a banner raised in his honor,Ted believes he deserves more. Green, who told me last year that he believes Slick has a very good chance of being the next ABA inductee to the James Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame in Springfield, Massachusetts, hopes to finish the film in time for a March madness release. Keep in mind, Ted released his film on Pacer’s star Roger Brown BEFORE the “Rajah” was elected to the Hall of Fame and his film on Slick could be just as timely.
I feel a kindred spirit in Ted Green. As Hoosiers become more-and-more familiar with his work, they quickly realize that Green gets more in depth on his subjects than anyone else. Ted, who calls this trait his “sickness”, will most certainly tell us things about Slick that we never knew about. Nobody digs deeper than Ted Green. “This will be my most extensively researched film yet. As a competitive journalist I want to play it a little close to the vest, but I can say that I’ve made several discoveries that I think will surprise even people who know Bob well, and will definitely open eyes nationally to the incredible impact on his sport that this man has had.” says Ted.

As for Slick’s shot at the Hall of Fame, Ted says, “I think there’s little doubt that Slick will get in someday, and like a lot of people around here, I’m hopeful that it’ll happen in the next class. Unfortunately, I don’t think that’s a lock — the fact that we’ve had two ABA Pacers back-to-back in Mel and Roger could factor against Slick as well as George McGinnis, who’s also deserving. But if you look solely at impact, at winning and losing, at what the person meant to the league, I think Slick has to be next.”

Now 81 years old, Leonard returned to Terre Haute twice to drive filmmaker Green through the neighborhoods where he grew up. Together they visited the old Gerstmeyer gym, now incorporated into the Terre Haute Boys and Girls Club, where Green surprised Leonard with impromptu visits by longtime friends including former prep school teammates the “Gerstmeyer Twins” Harley and Arley Andrews. Green filmed slick rolling through town, reminiscing about selling ice cream at Union Depot and of sneaking into the old Indiana State Teachers College gym in the late 1940s to watch Coach John Wooden drill the Sycamore players through basketball practices. Green is still in production and is looking for photographs not only of Bobby Leonard in his youthful days and his Gerstmeyer teams, but also of city scenes from the 1930s, ’40s and ’50s. If you can help, contact me and I’ll pass it on to Ted.

Leonard returned to the Pacers in 1985 as a color commentator, first for television, then on radio. He is in his 24th year as a Pacers broadcaster. Modern fans know him for his phrase “Boom, baby!”, which he shouts exuberantly after every successful three-point shot. Bobby “Slick” Leonard is the common thread running through Indiana’s accepted pastime and next week, you have the chance to meet him.

Bobby Leonard has written a new book, “Boom, Baby!: My Basketball Life in Indiana”, and he will recount many of these stories personally next Thursday evening in Irvington. Slick is coming to Bookmamas at 6 p.m. on Thursday, November 14 to give a short talk and sign copies of his new memoir.

Leonard, in typical heartfelt modesty, has repeatedly said that his exclusion from the Hall of Fame doesn’t bother him. His focus has always been on getting “his guys” there instead. Mel Daniels got into the Hall in 2012 (alongside NBA Pacers icon Reggie Miller) and Roger Brown made it posthumously in 2013. Slick’s guys have made it, and with this class coming up, I hope that he makes it too. Come out to Bookmamas next Thursday and discuss it with Slick yourself. Tell them Al sent ya.

Ghosts, Irvington Ghost Tours, Pop Culture

Ghosts of the Vinton House. Cambridge City, Indiana

April 24, 2018 Alan E. Hunter- Irvington

Vinton House Original publish date: September 2, 2013

If you’re looking for something to do this weekend and want to get out of town for the day, I have a suggestion for you. Pack up the spouse, the kids, friend or significant other and head out to Cambridge City, 45 minutes east of Indy, for Canal Days festivities on the Historic National Road. Canal Days is a street festival in an old canal town that features some of the best antiquing and specialty shopping in the state. I’ll even take you on a ghost tour if you wish (there are 2 different tours this Saturday night) where you can visit one of Indiana’s most haunted antique malls, the Vinton House.
Canal Days is always held on the first weekend after Labor Day and I’ve led ghost tours in this community for nearly a decade. Similar to the Irvington ghost walk, Cambridge City tours begin at 6:00 PM for the west side of town and then again at 8:30 for the east side of town. The east side tour concludes near midnight in the abandoned Capitol Hill cemetery. The old cemetery, whose last burial took place in 1931, is the beneficiary of the tour with 100% of the proceeds going to it’s preservation. The one element that the tours have in common, along with the Lincoln Ghost train of course, is the Vinton House.
The Vinton House was the oldest continuously operating Hotel in Indiana until it closed in 1981. During it’s lifetime, aside from being a prominent landmark on the National Road, the hotel saw it’s fair share of famous guests including Henry Clay, Governor Oliver P. Morton and Irvington’s own George Washington Julian. One longtime rumor claims that Abraham Lincoln himself stayed at the Inn while traveling through Indiana in the 1840s campaigning for fellow Whig Party candidates. This legend, although unsubstantiated, is so persistent that one of the guest rooms was actually named “The Lincoln Room” by the hotel’s last owner.
For over a decade the Vinton House, located at 20 West Main Street in Cambridge, has been re-energized as an antique mall. Over those 10 years, the Vinton House has gained a strong reputation for carrying one of the best selections of country antiques and primitives in the Midwest. Add to that mix the town’s other fine established shops and malls like Building 125, the National Road Antique Mall and the Hole-in-the-wall, to name only a few, and you have some of the finest antiquing in the state all within a 2-block stretch known as “Antique Alley”.
The Vinton House was saved from demolition in the 1990s by members of Cambridge City’s historic preservation group (known as Western Wayne Heritage, Inc.) when the group purchased the famous old hotel and began renovations that continue to this day. Built in the 1840s at the intersection of the newly opened Whitewater Canal and the National Road, Aaron Reisor opened the opulent three-story hotel alongside the Canal bank. Although the Canal is long gone, it’s route can be easily traced by looking at the building’s west side.
The Vinton House is named for longtime owner Elbridge Vinton, who ran it from Antebellum times to Teddy Roosevelt’s Progressive Era. After Elbridge’s death in 1908, his daughters ran the hotel until the Great Depression. During that near three-quarter century, the old hotel has seen innumerable comings-and-goings. It seems that many of those old guests, along with Elbridge himself, have never left the building. Contrary to what you may think, the ghosts of the Vinton House are not a modern day phenomenon. The wayward spirits of residents past date back as far as the World War II Era while the building was still an active hotel.
These wayward spirits were first brought to my attention by April Riggle, a dear friend and the previous manager of the antique mall. April, who unexpectedly passed away at age 43 in 2009, was very sensitive to the old inn’s spectral visitors and had many encounters during her many years at the Vinton House. The ghosts would most often manifest by the sounds of furniture scooting across the floor in the second floor “Lincoln Room” directly above the checkout counter. These sounds were heard when April was alone in the locked building after all guests and fellow employees had left for the day.
In time, these scratching and scooting sounds were being picked up on the security cameras within the building. When April, or other witnesses, would ascend the stairs to investigate the strange sounds, they could find nothing there. However, customers in the mall often asked the staff who the people dressed in period clothes were and remark about the strong smell of cigar smoke or alcohol that would accompany these sightings upstairs. Of course, upon closer examination, there was never anyone there to account for them.
This year, after we were kindly asked to resurrect the ghost tours after a 3-year hiatus, I visited the Vinton House to get reacquainted with the old building. Danny and Tammy Hall now manage the mall and, with an assist from daughter Lacy, work tirelessly to keep it’s shelves and cases full of high quality antiques and collectibles. “We get people in here all the time asking us about the ghosts and the tours” says Tammy. “But I’ve been in here at all hours of the night and day and have yet to experience anything.”
Danny, one of the area’s most experienced and seasoned pickers, echoes his wife’s sentiment. “I’ve been working in old buildings, barns and houses since I was a little kid and although I’ve found myself in the pitch dark going nose-to-nose with angry possum’s and raccoon’s, I’ve never seen a ghost.”
The couple walked me around the old building showing me the many improvements that have been made since my last visit. I asked Tammy if she shared the same passion for antiques as her husband does and she quickly answered yes. Danny, who I have personally run into on several occasions over the years at area antique shows lit only by the light of a flashlight before the show actually opens (an old pickers trick), has one of the keenest eyes in the region. “I get my biggest thrill cleaning and presenting the items he brings home to place around the mall” says Tammy. “But I’m ready to go at 2:30 AM if need be.”
Tammy has repainted nearly every square inch of the antique mall. Her attention to detail and sharp decorator’s eye can be witnessed in every room. Western Wayne has established a fine museum on the third floor that tells the story of the town, hotel and canal in meticulous detail. But, unlike many antique malls, the sales floor of the Vinton House “Ain’t No Museum.” Although many of the pieces in the mall are museum quality, the prices are affordable and the selection is widely varied. I have personally watched as a friend bought an old 19th century horse buggy and a casket (it was empty, don’t worry) on a single visit from Danny. A testament to the fact that you never know what you’re going to find there.
Cambridge City ghost tours always start in the cellar of the Vinton House, a long abandoned brick-lined space that was originally at Canal level. Segregated from the upper class guest rooms of the hotel, it’s history involved drinking, gambling and nefarious ventures during it’s century-and-a-half lifetime. The room is off limits to the public (except for ghost tour night) and always kept locked. This day was no exception. We entered the space for a quick survey in preparation for this Saturday night’s tours.
As we walked and talked, I explained what might be expected on tour night and told a couple of the cellar’s ghost stories to the couple (they had never heard them before). As we prepared to exit the cellar, this “Para-normally Challenged” couple stopped and shined a flashlight on a curious formation in the dirt at our feet. “That’s new. That wasn’t here the last time,” Danny said. Tammy agreed as we examined an area on the dirt floor where the sandy soil had been piled up carefully, by purposeful hands, with a central brick acting as a prominent fortress atop the mound complete with a small 8-to-10 inch tree twig flagpole rising from the center hole. The spooky looking little formation was not created by accident. “Leave that there, untouched.” I said, “I think people are gonna want to see that Saturday Night.”
See for yourself this Saturday September 7th (2013). Come spend the day at Cambridge City’s Canal Days celebration and stay for the ghost tours. First tour departs at 6:00 and the last tour at 8:30. It promises to be a ghostly good time.