Stages and Stage Drivers continued—Character of Drivers Defended—Styles of Driving—Classification of Drivers—Samuel Luman, old mail driver—His thrilling encounter with Robbers—George Fisher dashes into a Whig procession—Daniel Leggett—Accident to Black Hawk—Tobias Banner, Jerry McMullin, George McKenna, Paris Eaches, Jack Bailiss, Henry A. Wise, and other familiar names.

Mr. A. J. Endsley, of Somerset, an intelligent, educated and observing gentleman, who was born and reared on the National Road, gives it as his judgment that old stage drivers, as a class, were better, morally, than old wagoners. He says that while some of the stage drivers were given to blaspheming and drinking, there were wagoners who would “discount them, especially in the matter of profanity.” He names, as types of orderly, well behaved stage drivers, Thomas Grace, William and Alexander Thompson, John Mills, Charley Howell, John High, William Robinson, Isaac Frazee (still living in Markleysburg), Isaac Denny, Samuel Halsted, William White, Samuel Jaco, Thomas Moore, James A. Carroll, William Bishop and John Bunting. William Robinson and Pate Sides were expert penmen.

John E. Reeside, a son of Commodore James Reeside, the old stage proprietor, now residing in Baltimore, who had a general supervision of his father’s lines on the National Road, gives three styles of stage driving, as follows, viz: (1) The Flat Rein (English); (2) the Top and Bottom (Pennsylvania); (3) the Side Rein (Eastern). In the first style Mr. Reeside says that John Bennett and Watty Noble excelled, and in the second, Jack Bailiss, Frank Lawson and Joe Bowers carried off the palm. He adds that the third mode was the one adopted by a majority of the best drivers, and in this, Isaac Page, Luda Adams, Peyton R. Sides, David Gordon, John Lanning, Abram Dedrick and David Johnson excelled all other drivers.

Mr. Endsley, before mentioned, divides the old stage drivers in four classes, as follows: “(1) Awkward, slovenly, careless drivers, such as handled the whip and ‘ribbons’ so clumsily, and kept their teams so unseemly together, up hill, down grades and on the level, that it was painful to see them on the box. Typical of this class were Tom Frantz, Dan Boyer, Pete Null and Abe Halderman. (2) Cruel men—their cruelty amounting almost to brutality. This class seemed to take a fiendish delight in whipping, lashing and gashing horses. Wash Alridge and a big, burly driver by the name of Robinson, were types of the cruel class. (3) Careful, easy-going, common, every day kind of drivers—men who never made pretensions to fancy styles. They were such as John Bunting (Old Judy), Jim Reynolds, James Carroll (Flaxey), Blanchard (Hatchet Face), Billy Armor and Josh. Boyd. (4) Well dressed drivers, clean and neat in person, and men who regarded sitting down to a meal in shirt sleeves as contra, bonos mores. This class manipulated the whip and ‘ribbons’ scientifically, and sat on the box in a way that showed they were masters of the situation. Prominent in this class were John High, Pate Sides, Peter Halderman, ‘Yankee’ Thompson, Sam Jerome, Jim Moore,” &c. In this latter class might be ranked David Gordon, James Burr, and others of the western end of the road.

Samuel Luman, still living in Cumberland, and in good health, was one of the best equipped stage drivers on the road. His experience covers many of the most exciting and interesting events in the road’s history. He commenced his career as a stage driver in 1832, the same year that Alfred Bailes began as a wagoner. He tells of a collision with highwaymen in the mountains, which was attended by thrilling details. On the 12th of August, 1834, he was on the road between Piney Grove and Frostburg, with a mail and passenger coach going east. After nightfall, and at a point studded by a thick growth of pine trees, he was confronted by a party of foot-pads, five in number, and strange to relate, one a woman, bent on felony. The outlook was alarming. Luman carried no fire-arms, and there was but one weapon among his passengers, a small, brass pistol, not brought into requisition, as the sequel shows. The assailants had thrown across the road an obstruction like a rude fence, made of logs, stumps and brush. As Luman’s trusty leaders approached the obstruction, one of the highwaymen stepped out from his cover and seized a bridle, and the coach was stopped. The assailant ordered Luman to descend from his seat and surrender his charge. This he very politely, but very decidedly declined to do. “What do you want?” queried Luman, with seeming innocency. “We are traders,” was the response. “Well,” rejoined Luman, coolly, “I have nothing to trade; I am satisfied with my trappings, and not desirous of exchanging them.” During this little parley the wood-be robber, who held a leader by the bridle, cried out to a partner in crime, who was near at hand, though under cover of darkness, to shoot the driver, and denounced him as a coward for not firing. The party thus addressed then leveled a pistol at Luman and pulled the trigger, but the result was nothing more than a “snap,” the night air being damp and the powder failing to explode. These favorable surroundings, no doubt, saved Luman’s life. The foot-pads at the heads of the leaders had, in the confusion and excitement of the moment, turned the horses squarely around, so that the leaders faced west, while the wheel horses stood to the east. In this conjuncture the party in charge of the leaders undertook to unhitch them, and to guard against the movements of Luman, wrapped a driving rein tightly around one of his arms. This was Luman’s opportunity, and summoning all his resources, he poured a volley of stinging lashes upon his antagonist, smiting him on the face and arm, alternately, and most vigorously. The bandit winced, and soon relinquished his grasp, when, almost in the twinkling of an eye, the team under Luman’s skillful hands started up on a full run, leaping the improvised fence, and speeding on, leaving the foot-pads behind to lament their discomfiture. Mr. Luman relates that in crossing the improvised fence, he fairly trembled for the fate of himself and passengers, as the coach was within an ace of capsizing. He also states that the ruffian who seized his leader wore a gown that covered his whole person, tied around the middle of his body with a belt, and that another of his assailants wore a white vest, dark pantaloons, and covered his face with a black mask. The other three kept in the back ground during the attack, so that he is unable to recall their appearance. Mr. Luman further relates that when the first assault was made on him, he apprized his passengers of the impending danger and besought their assistance, but they crouched in their seats and made no effort to aid him or defend themselves. They were western merchants going east to buy goods, and had among them as much as sixty thousand dollars in cash. When the coach arrived safely at the Highland house, Frostburg, George Evans at that time proprietor thereof, the grateful passengers “took up” a collection for the benefit of their courageous and faithful driver and deliverer, but Luman says the sum proffered was so ludicrously small that he declined to receive it, and ever thereafter regarded that lot of passengers as a “mean set.” Samuel Luman drove four teams between Cumberland and the Big Crossings. In 1839 he concluded to give up stage driving and try tavern keeping. His first venture in this line was at Piney Plains, east of Cumberland and near Cessna’s old stand. He approved himself a popular landlord, and was well patronized. From Piney Plains he went to Frostburg, and took charge of the Franklin House. His next and last experience in tavern keeping was at the National House, in Cumberland. Luman interested himself in the detection and punishment of mail robbers, which drew upon him the animosity of suspected persons, and Mr. Stockton, fearing that the suspected ones might waylay and murder him, advised him to take service east of Cumberland, which he did. He is altogether one of the most interesting characters of the road.

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.

Peter Payne, an old driver east and west from Keyser’s Ridge, was noted as an expert hand at a game of poker. He was usually a winner, and being a man of economic habits, saved his small accumulations from time to time and ultimately became rich. He often sat down to a game with Joseph Dilly, an old blacksmith of the mountain division of the road, a skillfull player, who, like Payne, also grew rich.

Frank Lawson, who subsequently kept tavern in Triadelphia, was a stage driver. He first drove on Weaver’s Ohio line, next on a line in Kentucky, where he upset a coach causing the death of one or more of his passengers, and afterward came to the National Road and drove between Wheeling and Washington. He is mentioned by Mr. Reeside as an expert driver of the “Top and Bottom,” or Pennsylvania mode of driving.

John Stotler was among the drivers on the first line of stages. He was stoutly built, a good reinsman and a popular driver. He drove out east and west from Cumberland. John Whitney, an Englishman, was an early driver, and noted for his caution in handling his team and caring for the comfort and safety of passengers.

Joseph Whisson drove from Washington to Claysville, and is well remembered and highly spoken of by all old citizens living on that section of the road. He is still living at Triadelphia, West Virginia.

Jason Eddy was one of the many drivers sent out on the road in an early day from New Jersey by “Commodore” Reeside, as James, the old stage proprietor, was frequently called. Eddy was an expert driver, and it was said of him that “he could turn his team and coach on a silver dollar.” He was likewise a good musician, and played well on the bugle. He often entertained his passengers with stirring bugle blasts.

William Walker was a careful old driver, and so economical that he acquired property from the savings of his scanty wages.

William Craver, Edward Hays and the two Welches were old stage drivers, whose names were familiar along the road in its early history.

Isaac Page, first named by Mr. Reeside as a good driver in the Eastern style, was a Uniontown man, and died in that place before the glories of the old road had waned. He left a widow and a son, Charles, who went to New York, where the son engaged in business, prospered and became rich. His mother was highly esteemed by all who knew her, and to her example is attributed the success of the son.

Dr. Thayer, who subsequently became a circus proprietor, commenced driving stage on the National Road when eighteen years of age. He drove from Uniontown to Farmington on the “old line” previous to 1840. He was a skillful driver, and subsequently achieved success as a circus owner.

Gideon Bolton (nicknamed “Hoop-pole,” from the circumstance of his coming from a hoop-pole region in Preston county, West Virginia), drove many years on the mountain division of the road, and is well remembered.

JOSEPH WHISSON.