Even early in infancy, knowing persons observed that William Faulkner wasmore Butler than Falkner. In Oxford and Lafayette County this was a statement fraught with meaning because Butler family history was intimatelylinked to both town and country. Some of the associations were highly complimentary to the Butlers, others were not. The latter was especially the casewith Charles Edward Butler, whose daughter, Maud, was William Faulkner'smother.
On May 17, 1883, the Oxford Eagle reported that on Tuesday, May 8, “Mr.S.M. Thompson, editor of the OxfordEagle was shot and killed by Chas.Butler.”
Elizabeth A. Thompson, wife of thedead man and author of the article,charged that her husband had been “in astate of intoxication, unarmed, and underarrest,” when he was shot dead by Butler.The man killed, “Captain” Samuel MooreThompson, was the editor as well as theowner of the stoutly Democratic Eagle.
The Eagle admitted Thompson’s intoxication on the streets and his use of “abusive language” to a passing citizen. Itinsisted, however, that after he was arrested by Butler he went along peacefullyuntil “goading” by the officer caused himto refuse to go further, “flushed as he waswith strong drink.” It was broad daylighton the square in Oxford, and the sceneplayed before an audience of scores ofmen because court was then in session onthe second floor of the courthouse. TheEagle declared that “fair minded” peopleconcluded “that the officer clothed in alittle ‘brief authority,’ killed Capt. Thompson, not because he resisted, nor because itwas necessary; but did so on account ofmalice, arising from previous grudge, andthat in doing so he was encouraged by persons of vastly more respectable standing insociety than himself.” The Eagle headed itsstory: “A Brave Man Will Not Take theMean Advantage.”
After this early and vigorous assault onCharles Butler, the Eagle appears not tohave mentioned the matter again. However,Eliza Thompson, who had been trained byher husband in the newspaper business, resolved to continue the paper and run itherself. Thirty-two years later, she was stillrunning it.
Two weeks after the killing of Sam Thompson, both the Vicksburg Post and theJackson Clarion printed a carefully assembled and apparently balanced accountof the event drawn from interviews withnumerous eyewitnesses. In this version (thesame account appeared in both papers),Capt. Thompson was sitting on the sidewalk in front of the Thompson Hotel onthe north side of the square when Butler,who served as bailiff of the state districtcourt as well as town marshal (and who,incidentally, as marshal, also held an appointment as a deputy sheriff), came ontothe balcony of the second story of thecourthouse across the street to call H.M.Sullivan to appear before the court then insession. He had called several times in theusual stentorian voice of bailiffs before Thompson—who was very drunk and in fullview of Butler—answered “here” in a “tonecorresponding to the call.” Then Thompson began calling out his own name in thesame style, as if he were himself the bailiff.Sullivan, the man being called to court,passed near Thompson on his way to thebuilding. Thompson spoke to him in a familiar manner. When Sullivan did not reply, Thompson cursed him. Sullivanstopped, turned, and made some remark toThompson. Thompson then stood up,moved to the edge of the sidewalk facingSullivan, and said “see me now” in a verychallenging tone “applying to him at thesame time a very gross epithet.”
Sullivan did not answer, but went oninto the courthouse. Thompson thenturned, walking westward, crossed over tothe sidewalk on the west side of the square,and headed south. The marshal nowemerged from the courthouse and followedhim. Coming up behind Thompson, heslid his left hand under Thompson’s rightarm and said, “Sam, I arrest you.” Thompson looked at Butler and a few wordspassed between them. The exchange was“of an apparently inoffensive characterwhich ended by the deceased saying allright, and they walked on together, Butlerstill having his left arm locked inThompson’s right, and talking to him.”They had gone some twenty steps whenThompson suddenly stopped, declaring hewould go no further. A scuffle followed,Butler still holding Thompson’s right arm,while Thompson with his left handgrabbed either Butler’s coat sleeve, lapel, orthroat—as the various accounts went.
Butler stated subsequently in an affidavitthat there were seventy-five to a hundredonlookers. He called on one of these byname, William O. Beanland, to “come helpme take this man.” Beanland, a young manin his early twenties, came up promptlyand seized Thompson’s left hand. Thethree men stood for a few moments thuslocked together. Then Butler reached intohis hip pocket with his right hand, drewhis revolver, placed the muzzle againstThompson’s breast, and said, “Thompson,if you don’t let me go, I’ll kill you.” Thompson held on. Butler lowered his pistoluntil the muzzle pointed to the ground andthe three men held their positions for a fewmoments. Butler then again raised the pistol to Thompson’s breast and said, “Turnme loose or I will kill you.” At that pointBeanland let go of Thompson’s hand because, as he later said, “I saw that Butlerwas going to shoot him.”
Thompson was adamant. “Shoot, you ______,” he challenged. Immediately Butler fired, the ball passing through “thelower region of Thompson’s heart.” Stillgrasping onto and facing Butler, Thompsonseemed incredulous at the turn of events.“Charlie, you have killed me?” he asked.Butler, holding his pistol in his right hand,slowly lowered the dying man to the pavement with his left hand. Apparently muchsobered now, Thompson uttered prayers forhis soul, his wife, and his child. Then hedied.
Butler immediately surrendered himselfto a fellow police officer, Deputy SheriffJohn B. Roach. The next morning,Wednesday, May 9, he was indicted formanslaughter by the Lafayette Countygrand jury then in session and was releasedthe next day on a bail of $2,500. Thecourt ordered a continuance of the matteruntil its next term in November.
Why Charles Butler should thus shootand kill the drunken editor of a local newspaper seems, at first sight, beyond comprehension. It would be more understandableif Thompson had been armed. Rather pathetically, turning out the dead man’s pockets produced only a few dollars, a pipe,some tobacco, keys and a small pocketknife. Why did Charlie call upon only oneman to assist him when, presumably, hecould have summoned as many as heneeded to help him? Apparently, he hadarrested Sam several times before for beingdrunk on the streets; why this time did hefeel that he had to kill him?
We shall never know the full answer, butthe explanation of the killing begins withthe fact that Sam Thompson was himselffacing trial in the criminal court then insession, and his case was slated to be calledat 10 a.m. the next day. He was chargedwith “abduction of [a] female and unlawfulcohabitation.” In addition, in the same session, he was appealing a conviction by alower court on February 4, 1882, of “unlawful disturbance of a family,” for whichhe had been fined $250 and sentenced toninety days in the county jail. Behind theconviction was a complaint by WilliamWatkins that on January 22, 1882, Thompson had disturbed the Watkins familyby “tumultuous and offensive conduct”—inparticular by his pointing a pistol atWatkins and his wife Louisa. Watkinsswore that Thompson on that day did “exhibit said pistol in a rude angry & threatening manner.” Behind this event was anexceedingly involved relationship betweenCaptain Sam Thompson and EudoraWatkins, William Watkins’s teenage daughter. On January 23, 1882, Eudora herselftook out a warrant for Samuel Thompsonand Julia Avent charging that they did onNovember 1, 1881, “unlawfully & againstaffidavits [sic] will & by force menace &strategem and duress compel affiant to bethen and there by him the said SM Thompson defiled.” Julia Avent was a blackwoman who worked as a servant in theThompson household. In 1880 she wasforty years old and described herself as awasherwoman. The court found that Julia,indeed, “did unlawfully and feloniously abduct [and] decoy away and imprison oneEudora Watkins.” Thompson’s bond of$500 for “disturbance of a family” wasposted by him and his wife Elizabeth. Hisbond for abduction and defilement was setat $1,000 and supplied by him, Elizabeth,and his lawyer, C.M. Phipps.
The most prominent police officer in thecase was, apparently, Charlie Butler. Actingin his dual capacity as town marshal and asa deputy sheriff, it was he who organizedthe process by which all concerned partieswere brought to court. It was also he whoacted upon Eudora’s complaint and putJulia Avent in the county jail. Presumably,he would have lodged Sam Thompson inthe same place except that Thompsonposted bond to stand while his appeal wentforward. Shortly, Sam also posted a $500bond for Julia.
The court that found Sam and Juliaguilty was actually that of the mayor ofOxford, Patton B. Murry, who acted exofficio as a justice of the peace for thecounty and the state. His police officer formayor’s court was Charles Butler, and, inaddition, Butler probably served as his officer when Murry acted as a justice of thepeace. Murry was also editor of the OxfordFalcon, the rival newspaper to Thompson’sEagle. (For a dozen years after the war SamThompson had edited the Oxford Falconbut in 1877 he launched his own paper,the Eagle, as a rival to the Falcon.)
From the census of 1880, we know thatin June, 1880, Eudora Watkins was seventeen years old and that she was born inTennessee of a Tennessee-born mother. Shehad a brother, age three. Her father, William, was age fifty-six and born in England.William offered no entry for his occupation. His current wife was Louisa, age forty,Georgia-born, and “Keeping House.” Presumably, within the preceding few years,Eudora and her three-year-old brother hadlost their natural mother. Their father remarried, and moved the family to Oxford.Living in the household with them, probably as roomers, were two white men, unmarried and in their twenties. One was anAlabamian who clerked in a store, the otherwas a German who was a blacksmith. Theyall lived in a house near the university,which is to say on the west side of town,close to the railroad tracks and the trainstation. It was not an affluent neighborhood. Indeed, Oxonians sometimes calledthis area “Hashtown.”
In February, 1882, Sam was found guiltyof violating the peace of the Watkins homeby the mayor’s court; on May 3, 1882, hisdifficulties escalated as the grand jury of thecircuit court indicted him for the “abduction of [a] female and unlawful cohabitation.” The grand jury found that on May1, Sam “with force and arms” took Eudoraand “against her will and by force menacefraud deceit and Strategem did induce herthe Said Eudora Watkins to be defiled.” Inanother specification of the charge, thegrand jury declared that Thompson, “aman with force and arms on the first dayof May, AD 1882 in said County ofLafayette then & there unlawfully did Cohabit in Adultery” with Eudora. This newcharge and escalation sprang from Sam’sactions on the eve of the hearing of his appeal. On Monday, May 1, on the first dayof court during the spring term, Sam, withtremendous unwisdom, did what he haddone before, and again with disastrous results. Anticipating trouble from Eudora inthe impending proceedings, he took his pistol and went calling. It appears he carriedEudora away to Julia Avent’s house, wherehe forced her to have sex with him.
Prior to May 1, 1882, Sam Thompsonwas in trouble primarily with the Watkinsfamily. Things might have been negotiatedbetween them, and the law subsequentlymollified. But now he had acted “againstthe peace and dignity of the State of Mississippi,” and state authorities seemed determined to bring him to account. In truth,Sam was becoming outrageous to the community. Indicting him for “Unlawful Cohabitation” apparently was based upon thepremise that he took Eudora to JuliaAvent’s house for sexual purposes andforced her to live there.
Perusal of court records in Lafayette andTippah Counties over the decades from the1830s reveals shifts over time in the primary concerns of the civic mind in regardto peace and good order. In the 1850s, ofcourse, the courts were dedicated to thecause of slave control. In the 1880s therewas a distinct rise in litigation between local citizens and corporate entities in theNorth and abroad (e.g., in LafayetteCounty, the British American MortgageCo. Ltd.). There was also a shift in thesexual realm. There had always been areadiness to punish rape, fornication, adultery, and bigamy, but in the 1880s thecharges became more subtle and includedsuch things as “Cursing” or “Profane swearing in [the] presence of [a] female,”“unnatural intercourse,” “Seduction,” “paternity” (fathering a child out of wedlock),attempt or intent “to commit rape,” and“unlawful cohabitation.” Now, Sam Thompson faced this latter charge in Oxford.The movement of the town fathers in Oxford to eliminate male “Mackerel” totallyand limit female “Streetwalkers” also seemsto reflect this rising sentiment. (The board,in 1880, defined “Mackerel” as “that classof boys...who congregate upon the streetsand by whistling, dancing, singing and harpplaying greatly disturb the peace of ourcity. )
Episodic evidence suggests that all overthe South in the 1880s men were policingmen—not women—in sexual matters. It isas if men, even the “best” men, did nottrust other men—or themselves—to behaveresponsibly in this realm. It appears, ironically, that, as a modicum of affluence returned to the South in the 1880s, asgrowth and modernity began to bestowbenefits upon communities, anxieties aboutsexual matters also grew and with that adetermination to enforce a new orthodoxy.
This broad-gauged emphasis on sex inthe courts does not appear to have continued into the 1890s. However, there wasone charge that seemed to increase in frequency in the 1890s and continued asprominent into the early twentieth century.That was incest. Charges of incest were notusually leveled at persons having sex withan adult relative, male or female, thoughsuch cases occurred—often when people,seemingly innocently, married near cousinsor other close blood kin. Most cases of incest brought to court seemed to involvemen having sex with girls to whom theywere connected by blood or marriage—stepdaughters, their own daughters, ornieces. A desire to punish bizarre or perverse sex also continued into the twentiethcentury. In Ripley, Jeffrey Long was secretlyindicted by a grand jury that concludedthat on January 13, 1906, he “did committhat detestable and abominable crimeagainst nature by then and there havingsexual intercourse with a certain beast, towit, a cow.”
In Oxford in 1882, it seems that thegeneral turbulence and ad hoc violence thathad characterized the Civil War, Reconstruction, and Redemption, and in whichSam Thompson had thrived, would nolonger be tolerated. Clearly, Sam was nowin serious difficulty with the law. He wascharged by the state with a criminal offensethat bore weighty moral implications, andthe District Attorney James T. Fant wasdetermined to bring him to justice. If hewere convicted he would face an active anddemeaning prison term. By his repeatedacts of violence and sex in his relationswith Eudora and by his not being at all secretive in the process, there were plenty ofwitnesses to establish his guilt. Charlie Butler himself was among those witnesses andhad been summoned to appear in court inthe appeal process. Without doubt, in earlyMay, 1882, as well as on May 8, 1883, theday of the shooting, Charlie was very visible to Sam in and about the courthouse asa part of the public proceeding that wouldinexorably bring him to answer for his outrageous behavior.
As his crisis mounted in May, 1882,Sam Thompson shrewdly sought delay, andhe got it. The court allowed him a “continuation” in both cases until the fall term,1882, an indulgence granted “on accountof sickness in the family of his sole counsel.” Sam seemed to do a lot of his ownlegal thinking and he did it well. In thefall, his strategy was to win still anotherpostponement by pleading the absence of alarge number of key witnesses. The prosecution had a long list of witnesses, butSam added significantly to the length of thewhole list with his own. Somehow it happened during the fall when court was insession that many of his witnesses were absent and scattered in foreign parts. Repeatedly, the sheriffs deputies returnedsummonses to court with the endorsem*nt“not found in my county after diligentsearch.” Indeed, getting all of these peopleto court at the same time would have beena marvelous accomplishment in the orchestration of human behavior—even had theyall been eager to be there. The witnesses included people both high and low. Amongthem were L.Q.C. Lamar, Jr., the son ofthe famous senator; various officers of thelaw; William Isom who had been indictedfor forgery; Henry Vinegum, who had beenindicted for assault and battery; and MikeO’Brien, the Irish-born, sometime jailor,who had been indicted, tried, and foundnot guilty of forgery; and half a dozen ofthe more racy young men about town.
In November, 1882, Charles E. Butlerwas again summoned to court as a witnessin Thompson’s trial, but again, a continuation was allowed on Thompson’s affidavitthat he could not yet secure the presence ofhis most important witnesses. These witnesses, he insisted, would “make his defenseabsolutely impregnable and overwhelming.”This time, however, the judge pointedlydeclared that Thompson would come totrial at 10 a.m., Wednesday, May 9, 1883.
One set of witnesses did show up for thescheduled November trial, and their appearance must have caused Sam Thompsonsome anxiety. Eudora, Louisa, and WilliamWatkins were each paid $13.70 to travel107 miles to Oxford, where they remainedfor two days until the motion to continuewas granted. The current residence of theWatkins family was not recorded, but Jackson, Tennessee, was almost exactly 107miles north of Oxford on the Illinois Central line. The Watkins family, however, didnot appear for the May, 1883, term ofcourt nor could they be found. A subpoenafor the trio issued in March, 1883, for May9 was endorsed by Deputy Sheriff John B.Roach in the usual way for absentees, “notfound in my county after diligent search.”Meanwhile, the sheriff had been directed bythe judge to take up and hold—that is,jail—Eudora Watkins should her whereabouts come to be known to him. Onemight well suspect that Sam had been cleverly at work again, and a bit more deftlythan before, that dire threats had beenmade on the one side and that, on theother, money had been held out to convince the rather rootless Watkinses thatprosperity for them lay elsewhere. But therewas an even better reason for the disappearance of the Watkins family. It was thatEudora was herself under indictment.
On May 1, 1882, the same date of herlast legally noticed abduction by Sam,Eudora was arrested for “carrying [a] deadlyweapon—to wit—a Pistol.” One can easilyguess the use Eudora intended for her pistol, and one imagines that there was somepublic flourishing of that weapon by her onMay Day, 1882, the date that Sam abducted her for the last time. Four days laterthe young woman was formally indicted bythe grand jury for carrying a “concealedweapon” and a “deadly weapon.” Withlittle to gain and much to lose by stayingin touch with the authorities, the Watkinsfamily probably took flight again, on thisoccasion leaving no forwarding address.Sam might, indeed, have encouragedEudora’s departure by threats and bribes,but even if he had, he had no assurancethat the high-spirited and volatile Eudorawould not be back—suddenly appearing incourt to tell of her seduction and defilement by a man old enough to be her father. It was easily conceivable that Eudoramight decide to avenge herself, and that noamount of persuasion or force could stopher.
So on Tuesday, May 8, when Sam Thompson sat on the sidewalk in front of TheThompson House hotel, (ironically the siteof the old Butler Hotel, built by CharlesG. Butler, Charlie’s father, and the veryfirst sheriff of Lafayette), and the bailiff,now Charlie Butler, appeared from time totime on the second story balcony of thecourthouse to call citizens into the buildingto have justice done, Thompson could nothelp but realize that at ten o’clock the following morning he would himself be called.He was drinking heavily, and when H.M.Sullivan was called into court, it was nottotally inappropriate that Sam should answer, perhaps at first with a sense of irony;and then, catching the bitter humor in hislife at this juncture, begin to call himself tocourt in the ringing, sing-song style thatritual required. Perhaps he felt the weightof his failings; prominent among them infidelity (caused by a relationship with a girlonly a year older than his teenaged daughter) to a fine and faithful wife. He hadflaunted the community that had givenhim a home and a livelihood since the endof the war almost twenty years before. Perhaps, too, there was in his mind somesense that justice was about to be done tohim by that community and that he deserved punishment. But as a rough andready man, a Confederate cavalry trooperand redeemer Democrat who most oftenhad his way, he hated his feelings of powerlessness in the circ*mstances. It was understandable, too, that he should begin tolose humor at being ignored by a memberof the family, the Sullivans, that had offered a steady opposition to his politicalpower and influence, and that he wouldturn suddenly surly, abusive, and violent.
Some insight into Sam’s apprehensionconcerning his own vulnerabilityvis-à-visthe mercurial and redoubtable Eudoramight be gained by looking closely at anaffidavit filed by him with the court onNovember 18, 1882, as a part of his pleafor continuance. In this remarkable document he cast back to tell, with supposedcandor, the whole story of his relationshipwith this young woman. He argued his innocence and attempted to demonstrate thatthe malefactor was really not himself butEudora. In essence, he argued, it was shewho seduced him.
In sworn testimony he stated that his relationship with Eudora began in late February 1881, when he, the “affiant” (as hereferred to himself in the affidavit), “hadonly a slight acquaintance and no intimacywhatsoever” with Eudora. She was broughtto his office one day by the potential witness William Bracely. She remained thereafter Bracely left and “immediately madeherself at home and familiar.” She told him“about having just returned from a visit toa lady who had prayed for her and expressed her wonder and curiosity to knowif the lady knew what a wicked little soulshe, said Watkins, was at that very time,and had been always before, and [what] shewould think and say if she had known it atthe time she was praying & singing forher.”
Sam was busy during Eudora’s visit, buthe showed the girl the type, press andother effects of his business at which sheseemed pleased. She followed him into theback room, still talking with great animation and telling Sam that she was badlytreated at home. Sam came out for a fewminutes, working in front of the shop andleaving Eudora in the back room. Returning, he shut the door.
He told the story almost cinematically.You can almost picture Sam shifting thelens, dissolving one scene, pausing, andbringing up another. When the witnessBracely “next saw them, Eudora had herarms around his neck and her head restingon his shoulder and breast, her eyes closedand she standing on some books and herback against the wall.” Subsequently,Bracely saw Eudora “coming and going ather pleasure on terms of intimacy and familiarity with him and always apparently ina gay and pleasant humor.” Sam was angrywith Bracely “for discovering him & saidEudora in said back room and threatenedhim with death if witness should ever tellof it.” Bracely would also testify in courtthat soon after their first encounter Eudorawent with Sam to the Mardi Gras inMemphis, in company with a party that included Bracely.
After Memphis, the affidavit continued,Eudora went on to Kentucky, returning bytrain to Oxford in the fall (some ninemonths later). She had telegraphed Sam tomeet her at the depot on November 2 at 9p.m. A second missing witness, James“Jimmie” Gillespie had gotten the telegrambut failed to deliver it for several days.Meanwhile, Eudora arrived. Not findingSam at the train station, she went to a private house, not her father’s. Eudora wasoffended by Sam’s not meeting her andsent word for him “to meet her alone nextmorning at a certain bridge.” Sam was apprehensive about such a meeting and, instead of going to the rendezvous himself,sent his servant, Julia Avent, to tell Eudorato come to the newspaper office. Beforethey arrived, Sam, still worried about beingdiscovered, had gone out to find the twowomen. Failing, he returned to his officeand was seen about the streets of the townfor several hours. Actually, Julia and Eudorahad gone to Julia’s house. Soon, however,Sam and Eudora managed to meet, andwitness Jimmie Gillespie would testify thatsubsequently Eudora often came to the office and remained about him “at varioustimes and places,” that “she was always freeto go away and stay away from him if shehad chosen to do so, and that her conductwas uniformly that of a loose woman.”
At this point Sam’s story took a new andsurprising turn. He began to depict himselfas a veritable saint in his efforts to reformthe wayward Eudora. Frequently, she hadsaid that she “would not stay with her parents, said she would cut her throat first,and gave as her reason that her stepmother, Mrs. Louisa Watkins, had sexualintercourse with other men, both black andwhite.” Sam—as savior—spared no effort inhis attempts to relocate Eudora in a propermoral environment. Jimmie Gillepsie wouldtestify that he went with Sam when Samsucceeded in placing Eudora in “a respectable house in the country.” Eudora, however, refused the reform and soon returnedto town to be with Sam. Presumably, shestayed at Julia’s upon her return.
Still another witness was AustinBramlett—young, male, and also absent.Whenever he could be found, Thompsonpromised, he would testify that Eudorastayed at Julia’s entirely of her own freewill and would “fully corroborate saidGillespie as to said Eudora’s loose manners.” Austin would also swear that Samhad often begged Eudora to leave him, “reform and abandon her evil ways, and havenothing to do with him or any other manuntil she should be lawfully and honorablymarried.” It was his ambition for Eudora,Sam swore, that she should become a teacherin some place “where she was not known.”
Two other absentee witnesses, Winterand Moore, would testify that “instead ofattempting to mislead or abduct a virtuouswoman [Sam] had rather become interestedin a bad one, and tried to induce her toabandon her evil course and reform andbecome a decent and useful woman.” Saminsisted that he had done “all that was inhis power to aid her in a total and complete reform.” Indeed, he had made Moorepromise to “travel through the country andget up a school for said Eudora to teachsmall children in a neighborhood where shecould be respected and properly cared forby good people, and be useful.”
Sam argued that “the manifest honestyand integrity” of his witnesses on the standwould prove his innocence. He expected“to have them all present” at the next termof court “if continuance be allowed.” OnMonday, May 8, 1883, the next court began its session, and it is reasonable todoubt both that Sam Thompson himselfbelieved his own story and that his witnesses would in fact appear and prove credible. Indeed, William Bracely, the youngman who had originally introduced him toEudora, was then under indictment formurder and his usefulness to the defensesubstantially impaired. Sam’s was an oldand venerable story, of course, as old as theGarden of Eden, but in this case the judgeand jury might well ask who, after all, fedwhom the apple.
Compared to many parts of America,Mississippi in the late 1800s was a veryviolent place and Oxford was no exceptionto the rule. Even so, the official record ofSam’s transgressions in this respect leaveshim outstanding among the town’s citizens.The docket of the circuit court exhibits aclear trail. His violation of the public peacegained judicial notice at least as early as1867. In the last half of the next decade,however, he seemed to be steadily at oddswith the law. In the October term of courtin 1875 Sam was charged with the unlawful exhibition of a weapon. The case was“nolle prossed ” (cancelled by the prosecution) on the condition that he pay courtcosts. In the November term of 1876 hewas charged with “assault with intent to killand murder.” That case was continued tothe May term, 1877, and again to the November term of that year when the chargewas reduced to “Exhibition of a deadlyweapon.” In the trial, the jury found a verdict of “not guilty,” despite the efforts ofDistrict Attorney James Fant. Meanwhile,in the May term, 1877, he was chargedwith another instance of assault and batteryand exhibition of a weapon. This case was“dismissed on payment of costs.” In November, 1878, Sam was in court yet again,charged now with “Shooting at with intentto kill and carrying concealed weapons.”The case was continued until the Mayterm, 1879, when he was again found “notguilty.” Thereafter, Sam seems to have retired from the legal lists until, in January,1882, he re-entered the fray at full tilt.This time he met Eudora Watkins.
Sam’s violence stood out because of itscontinuous nature. But sometimes he was in good company, including, interestingly,the mayor himself, Patton B. Murry. Murrywas charged in November, 1878, with“Shooting with intent to kill and carryingconcealed weapons.” In May of 1880 hewas indicted for carrying concealed weaponsand exhibiting a weapon in a “rude, angryand threatening manner.” All chargesagainst Murry were dismissed.
(Murry’s lawyer in these cases was William V. Sullivan, who would also becomeCharlie Butler’s lawyer. At the time of theThompson shooting, William Sullivan wasin the courthouse working to defend a mannamed Turnage against a murder charge.He had just caused H.M. Sullivan to becalled as a witness.)
In late April or very early May, MayorMurry, died of natural causes. Murry, ofcourse, had first sentenced Thompson. Hehad owned and edited the rival paper, theOxford Falcon, and Charlie Butler had beenthe police officer for his court. When ElizaThompson asserted that Charles E. Butler“was encouraged by persons of vastly morerespectable standing in society than himself,” she was referring to a faction that hadconsiderable local power and includedMurry and the Sullivans. On the otherside, the Thompsons promoted an opposition. In the Eagle, on May 3, Sam endorsed Captain William Thompson (norelation to himself) for mayor, takingprompt advantage of Murry’s sudden andunexpected death. William Thompson wasa sixty-five year-old businessman and theyounger brother of Jacob Thompson, theleading citizen of the town in the antebellum era. In by-gone years, Sam had been apolitical supporter and personal favorite ofJacob. On the day of his killing, Sam hadchosen to be drunk on the sidewalk infront of the hotel at least partly owned bythe Thompsons and known as the Thompson House.
In the contest between factions in thetown, Charlie Butler was indeed on theMurry-Sullivan side, but Eliza exaggerated.In arresting Sam, Charlie was not actingsolely as a political partisan or on a grudge.He was bound to arrest Sam or facecharges himself for dereliction of duty. Thelaw made him liable to criminal action ifhe failed to make an attempt to arrest aman blatantly drunk on the streets. He hadseen enough and heard enough on thesquare below to excuse himself from thecourt room, seek out, and arrest Sam. Hehad arrested Sam a number of times before.What was different this time was that theEudora Watkins case was coming to a crucial juncture. No longer were men simplyplaying at the masculine game of pointingguns at one another and, now and again,letting a bullet fly. Rather, Sam’s extravagance, his boisterous and bullying behavior,now involved a young woman to whom hewas not married. The state of Mississippicould nol-pros and dismiss the cases involving only men and pistols, and juries couldrender verdicts of not guilty in affrays thatinvolved, after all, consenting adult males.But the repeated abduction, seduction, and“defiling” of a teenage girl—sometimes inthe home of a black woman—could not beforgiven. It mattered not that Eudora apparently had a large sexual appetite, thatshe was flirtatious, and even meretricious.Indeed, her weaknesses made matters worsebecause Sam’s responsibility in this case wasthus increased—if he were in fact truly aman and a gentleman.
Sam sensed the depth of his new difficulty, and hence the desperate, outrageous,even ridiculous statement he had given tothe court, and, consequently, for the publicrecord. According to his own account, hehad sex repeatedly with the wild and oftenwilling, always provocative, even exoticEudora. He had thus not only taken advantage of an obviously disturbed, distressed,and vulnerable young woman not yet outof her teens, he had also defiled his ownhouse where dwelt a wife so publicly faithful that she stood by him even in this crisis. All of this from a man who had been asoldier in the Confederate States Army andthe owner and editor of a prominent newspaper. On one level, he had refused to bebridled by the reins at which other menstrained. On another, he must be punishedby them for doing what they had abstainedfrom doing.
Upstairs in the courthouse, the murdererTurnage would get off with two years inthe state penitentiary. On the square below,Sam would get a bullet through the heart.The crisis would be reached, and he woulddie with scores of men looking on. His executioner would be a thirty-three-year-oldtown marshal with a half dozen years of experience as a police officer and the eldestsurviving male of a founding family in thecommunity. Interestingly, Sam Thompson,a Confederate veteran, was killed by a manwho had been—just barely—too young tobe a soldier in the war. More interestingly,Charlie Butler in this case—in enforcingthe law in the name of the community—was defending a young woman who hadnot herself asked to be defended, had perhaps not even wanted to be defended, andindeed, was no longer there in her personto be defended. Taking account of the factthat on May 1, 1882, Eudora Watkins wascarrying her own gun, it seems that thisspirited young woman felt fully prepared todefend herself.
During and after Reconstruction, Samwas usually referred to as “Captain SamThompson,” and it was understood that hewas a cavalry officer, presumably a ratherdaring and dashing one. A search throughrecords of veterans of Confederate cavalryfrom Mississippi, however, reveals no Captain Sam M. Thompson. Indeed, there appears to have been only one Mississippiveteran in any branch named S.M. Thompson. This one enlisted in Company B ofthe First Mississippi Cavalry at Purdy, Tennessee, on April 15, 1862—just after thebattle of Shiloh. Company B had, indeed,been organized in Oxford by the OxonianAndrew J. Bowles on April 24, 1861, twoweeks after the first shots of the war hadbeen fired on Fort Sumter in CharlestonHarbor. It was filled with Lafayette Countymen, including such staunch warriors asHerman Wohlleben who had distinguishedhimself for heroism in Forrest’s raid onHolly Springs in 1862, whose record indicated that he was “Wounded severely” inthe leg in the fall of 1864, and who finallylaid down his weapons at Citronella, Alabama, on May 4, 1865. Private S.M. Thompson, in contrast, lasted hardly a yearbefore being dropped from the roll byGeneral Van Dom “for absence without leave.”
If Sam had gone to jail, either quietly ornoisily, there would have been no shooting.If he had not grabbed Charlie somewhere—sleeve, lapel, or throat—and refusedto let go, there would have been no shooting. If he had not been so large a manwith the clear potential of overpowering thearresting officer, again there would havebeen no shooting. But he did resist, and hedid grab hold of the officer. He had swornnever to be arrested by Charlie again, andhe was known to carry concealed weaponsand subsequently exhibit those in a “rudeand threatening” manner. In truth, anyonewho knew his history would agree thatthere was possibly grave danger that Sammight take his left hand from Charlie’s person and pull a gun out of his pocket beforeCharlie could secure his own gun. From allappearances, Charlie was in extremis.
Later, in his trial, Charlie attempted toestablish that he had called on the menwatching along the square for help and noone had stepped forward. Then he calledWilliam O. Beanland by name. Probably,he singled out William because he was astrong young man in his early twenties, andpossibly because he was a Mason. William’sfather, William Garner Beanland, had soldiered with Charlie’s brother, Henry, during the war, had been Charlie’s businesspartner a decade before, and was a fellowMason. Indeed, W.G. Beanland was amember of the committee appointed toinvestigate Charlie’s character when he wasadmitted to the Order. Later, Beanland wasVice Dictator of the Lodge while Charliewas Sentinel. It might well be that one Mason in distress called upon another for assistance and the assistance could not be refused.
Given that Sam’s arrest was an eventfraught with danger, Charlie showed amazing restraint. Assuming that Sam had a gunin his pocket as usual, Charlie was admirably cool in circ*mstances in which his lifemay have been in jeopardy. He hoped,probably, that Sam would come along quietly. He had first raised his gun to Sam’sheart and then lowered it when the act hadno effect. He seemed almost sad at theduty that then arose before him. He raisedthe gun again, and the line was drawn.When Sam cried—as trial records indi-cate—so that all could hear him, “Shoot,you house-burning son-of-a-bitch,” it mighthave been that Charlie Butler felt he hadno choice. He did what had to be done.He pulled the trigger.
Why Sam Thompson should have accused Charlie of house burning remains amystery. Regardless of specifics, it was ahighly insulting charge for one man tomake against another. Arson—house burning, and barn burning too—was considereda crime of slaves, “nigg*rs,” poor whites,sneaks and cowards. It was held to be a“mean advantage” that “a brave man”would not take.
On the day following the shooting,Charles Butler was indicted for manslaughter. His bond, posted on May 10, virtuallyconstituted a poll of eminent men in hisfavor. Set at $2,500 it was supplied bymore than a score of prominent sons in thecommunity, including John Kimmons, thenew mayor; Washington Porter Wilkins,Confederate captain, livery stable owner,and one of the most respected businessmenin town (whose son would marry WilliamFaulkner’s aunt); Charles Bowen Howry,son of a leading jurist, Confederate officer,and lawyer; both of the lawyers Sullivan;Francis Marion Stowers, the rising youngdry goods merchant and future alderman;and Charlie’s fellow deputy sheriff, John B.Roach. A goodly portion of the respectablemanhood of Oxford was supportingCharlie’s defense. Further, Charlie hadfriends in the courthouse. Fellow Mason,W.E. Andrews had been a young groceryclerk in 1870, but in 1883 he was clerk ofcourt, a position he ably filled for manyyears. On May 11, Charles Butler asked fora continuance to prepare his defense and itwas granted.
The town minutes indicate that CharlesButler continued to perform his duties astown marshal without interruption after theshooting of Sam Thompson. A day beforethe shooting the board had allowed himcredit for some $220 for paying streethands and keeping the town mule. In September, 1883, he commenced building aplank walk from “Miss Eades’ residence tothe plank walk in front of W.L. Archebald’s residence.” In November, the circuitcourt granted him a second continuance onthe ground that his key witness, W.O.Beanland, was away and could not bereached. Beanland was a “drummer” (atraveling salesman) for a business housebased in St. Louis. If present, it was arguedthat Beanland would testify that “Thompson was resisting and choking affiant andafter affiant had called for help and assistance and no one would come to assistancehe called specially for Beanland.” Later,Beanland swore that he was sick in bed inan Alabama town in November and hencemissed the court date. Meanwhile, in December, 1883, Kimmons was re-electedmayor, and Charlie’s friends W.E. Andrewsand W.V. Sullivan were elected to thetown board. On January 7, 1884, Charleswas re-elected by the board for anothertwo-year term as town marshal.
In May, 1884, a jury was impaneled andCharles Butler’s case came to trial. We donot have a verbatim record of the trial, butwe can surmise the character of his defensefrom documents filed with the clerk ofcourt by his lawyers. Procedures allowedlawyers for both the defense and prosecution to submit to the court drafts of“charges,” that is, instructions as to the limits of the law to be given by the judge tothe jury just before it retired to deliberate.The judge might use one of these or writehis own. Charlie’s lawyer, again William V.Sullivan, submitted several such statements,attempting to find one that was acceptableto the judge and would combine facts andlaw in a way to promote a verdict of notguilty for his client. In these, the lawyerstressed that Butler was an officer of thelaw bound to do his duty or face chargeshimself, that Thompson was resisting arrest,and that he had previously threatened tokill Butler if Butler ever tried to arrest himagain. In one charge drafted by Sullivan, hewould have the judge say to the jury that“Thompson was physically a large strongman and at the time of the killing was seizing Butler by his throat.” The judge refusedto give any of these charges, and, apparently, wrote one himself that gave the marshal no favors. Even so, the defense wassuccessful. On the back of the indictmentit*elf, wrapped around all relevant documents and bound with a string was writtenthe foreman’s conclusion: “We the Juryfind the Defendant Not Guilty.” A yearbefore, in the docket book, the clerk ofcourt made a final entry in the case of TheState vs. Samuel M. Thompson regardingEudora Watkins. “Abated by death of defendant,” he wrote.
Three years later, in 1887, Butler absconded with a large percentage of Oxford's tax revenue for the year, leaving his wife,Leila, who was a respected artist in town, and two teenage children, Sherwood and Maud, behind. His departure was abruptand remains a mystery. The Butler family had built a solid reputation in town, and Charlie had contributed to it. He wasOxford's marshal, tax collector, purchasing agent, engineer, disbursing officer and general manager. His income was respectable; he lived in a home located in one of the finest neighborhoods in Mississippi. His children attended the most exclusiveschool in Oxford.
Today, in the Oxford cemetery, one finds the Butler family plot. There are tombstones for Leila, Sherwood and Maud. Nextto Leila’s tombstone is an unmarked plot of earth waiting for the remains of Charles E. Butler.
