Three negroes were amusing themselves at Savannah on Friday last, in butting over bales of cotton. One of them attempted for a wager to butt over a square bale. He won the wager, but the effort cost him his life—the sudden jar broke his neck, and he died instantly.[The Daily Sanduskian (OH), 6-2-1849]

The Riot at Fort HamiltonFORT HAMILTON, SUNDAY EVENING

“For us, and for our tragedy,Here, stooping to your clemency,We beg your hearing patiently.”—Hamlet

For a short time past, from some cause difficult to determine, there had existed a feud between the negro servants at the Hamilton House, and the soldiers at the Fort. That the Negroes were originally the aggressors, of course, there can be no doubt.—They have, at any rate, been in the habit of throwing stones at the soldiers in the Fort; and one evening (at least so a soldier states,) a negro snapped a pistol at him three times, but fortunately the weapon missed fire. These were, however, only the rumblings and rumors of war—a mere skirmish, previous to the grand battle.

On Sunday afternoon, while conversing with some ladies on the piazza, my attention was drawn to a number of soldiers who were loitering in front of the hotel. Very soon they commenced shouting at a gang of negroes who now appeared, to the number of about thirty-five. Hard words were exchanged between the parties; and some remark from one of the solders reflecting on the parentage of one of the sons of ebony was the signal for a general attack.—In an instant, the soldiers drew their bayonets, which were concealed in their coat sleeves, and pitched into the negroes pell mell. The latter, interestingly, butted with their cocoanut heads into the soldiers, bull fashion, and resorted to the stones, which began to fly thick and fast. Clubs were used, knives flashed in the sun and a general mellee took place, Several gentlemen at this stage of the proceedings, attempted to wrest the bayonets from the soldiers hands, and to interpose between them and the negroes. The latte, however, shouted “To the rescue, colored members of society!” Several of the Negroes here made a precipitate retreat, believing in the old adage, that—

“He that fights and runs away,May live to fight another day.”

[Battle continues, then wrap up and commentary][Brooklyn Eagle, 8-18-1852, p. 2]

By the Little Un in the Spirit of the TimesHow Big Darkey Jake was Cured of Butting

Some years since, I was employed as warehouse clerk in a large shipping house in New Orleans, and while in that capacity, the following funny incident occurred:

One day a vessel came in, consigned to the house, having on board a large lot of cheese from New York. During the voyage some of them had becomes damaged by bilge water, (the ships having proved leaky,) consequently the owners refused to receive them; they were, therefore, sent to the consignees of the ship, to be stored until the case could be adjusted. I discovered a few days afterwards, that as to perfume, they were decidedly too fragrant to remain in the warehouse in June, and reported the same to my employers, from whom I received orders to have them overhauled, and send all that was passable to Beard & Calhoun’s auction mart, (then in old Camp street theatre,) to be disposed of for the benefit of the underwriters, and the rest to the swamp. I got a gang of black boys to work in them and when they stirred ’em up, “be the bones of Molly Kelly’s quart mug, but the smell was illegent entirely.” I kept a respectable distance believe me, for strong nigger and strong cheese, on a hot June day, just bangs all common essences, including a certain varmint we read about.

Presently the boys turned out an immense fellow, about three foot six “across the stump,” from which the box had rotted off; in the center a space of about ten inches was very much decayed, and appeared to be about the consistency of mush, of a bluish tint, which was caused by the bilge water. The boys had just set it up on its edge on a bale of gunny bags, when I noticed over the way a big darkey (then on sale) from Charleston, S.C., who was notorious for his butting propensities, having given most of the niggers in that vicinity a taste of his quality in that line. I had seen him and another fellow the night previous, practicing; they would stand, one on each side of a hydrant some ten yards distant, and run at each other with their heads lowered, and clapping their hands on the hydrant, they would butt like veteran rams A thought struck me that I might cure him of his bragging and butting, and have some sport also, so I told the boys to keep dark, and called “Old Jake” over.

“They tell me you are a great fellow for butting, Jake?”“I is some, Massa, das a fac—I done butt de wool ‘tirely orf old Pete’s head last

night, and Massa Nichols was gwine to gib me goss! I kin juss bang de head orf any nigger in dese parts, myself—I kin.”

“Well, Jake, I’ve got a little job in that line for you when you haven’t anything else to do.”

“I’s on han’ for all dem kin ob jobs myself—I is”“Well, you see that large cheese back there?”“I does dat! I does myself.”“Now if you can butt a dent in it, you shall have it.”“Golly, Massa! You foolin’ dis nigger!”“No, I’m not, Jake—just try me.”“Wott? You gib me de hull ob dat cheese ‘f I butt a det in um?”“Yes.”“De Lor! I’ll bust ‘em wide open, I will, myself. Jess stand back dar, you Orleans

niggers, and clear de track for Ole Souf Carlina, case I’se a comin’, myself—I is.”And old Jake started back some fifty feet, and went at it at a good quick run, and

the next instant I heard a dull heavy sound, a kind of a squish, and old Jake’s head disappeared from sight, with the top just visible on the other side, as he rose from his new

fashioned necklace, the soft, rotten cheese oozing down, so that just his eyes were visible. From the center of it Jake’s voice was scarcely audible and half smothered, as he vainly tied to remove the immense cheese.

“O-o-o-o! de lor mas—took um orf, O-o-o-o! bress de lor! Lif um up! For a mity! I ---“

Meanwhile I was nearly dead myself, having laid back on a cotton bale, holding myself together to keep from bursting, while the boys stood around old Jake, paying him off.

“De lor, how de nigga’s bref smell!—You doesn’t clean you teeth, old Jake.”“ I say, you didn’t make mo’ dan fou’ times dat han’, did you, ole hoss?”“Well, ou is a nasty nigga, das a fac.”“Well, you is de biggest kine of Welsh rabbit, you is.”“Whar you git yhour har grease?” and thus the boys run old Jake—now half

smothered—until I took compassion on him and told them to take it off. Jake didn’t stay to claim his prize, but put off growling:

“Gor a mity, I done go sole dat time! I’se a case of yaller fever, I is, myself”Old Jake was never known to do any more butting in that vicinity after that.

[Illinois State Chronicle, 9-27-1855, p. 1] The same story and its permutations were reported for years. The first mention I saw was in [Adams Sentinel (Gettysburg, PA), 5-31-1850, p. 1]. It was repeated here, also in Spirit of the Times, apparently, as well as the [Defiance Democrat (OH), 8-17-1867, p. 1], and likely inspired the switch-the-grindstone-for-the-cheese stories that became popular later. Which may also be related to the “Abe Bunter” obit story (2-24-1875).

Two Georgia Negroes had a butting match the other day, but after sixty or seventy rounds became disgusted with the monotony of the thing.[Titusville Morning Herald, 11-30-1870, p. 4 (PA)]

Southern SketchesThe reader will see Mrs. Harris in the following drawing. She stands in the

doorway of the log cabin, or negro-quarter, in a pose as statuesque as the sculpture of the antique. The unstudied grace of her attitude, and the languid satisfaction she derives from the personal recontre going on before here, are in lively contrast with the startled look and manifest concern of Aunt Judy, who sits on the bench in front of the cabin. Mrs.. Harrris is fortunate in the constancy of her lord, for not all the Pollys and Dinahs of the South have retained the affections of their husbands, many of whom have an idea that the Fifteenth Amendment operated a general divorce a vinculo matrimony, and have given up “going to wife’s house” altogether.

The intelligent reader is supposed to be familiar with Gustave Dore, and will be able readily to recall that artist’s characteristic sketch of “Spanish Boys playing at Bull-fighting.” If not, it is respectfully requested that the intelligent reader will turn to

that illustration of mimic tauromachy before reverting to the dark scene of single combat which is here delineated. The daring French limner makes one of the boys play bull. It is a favorite diversion with the little negro boys in the country, and is carried on with all the animation of a joust between Lancelot and Galahad, while the little wooly Guineveres and Isolts sit by and grin approval of their prowess. The torn caps of the small darkeys have been thrown into the arena as gauntlets of defiance, and they have gone at it with heads level to the occiput. Who shall hit hardest, is the only question that concerns them; and, reckless of consequences, caring little that shirt and trousers will be rent by the strain, they rush at each other like the Homeric heroes on the plains of windy Troy. It is in the very temper of the brave spirit the poet celebrates-

Whoever with a frolic welcome tookThe thunder and the sunshine, and opposedFree heart, free forehead-

especially the free forehead. For you shall pause and look upon one of these butting-matches, and you shall hear no noise, save the sharp, heavy shocks of the skulls as they strike each other, like the spear of Ajax coming full upon the beamy helm of Hector, and an occasional grunt, half suppressed. It is a case of no cry and a great deal of wool.

But Judy is alarmed at the violence of the combatants. “Dar! Dar! ‘Clar if de chile ain’t gwine bust he head open! You, Dave--you, Ginger—stop your foolishness dis minnit—you hear me?: Dave and Ginger do not hear—they have put their heads together in earnest, and their angle of incidence admits of no reflection; and, as has often happened before, when two crowns are in conflict, they will listen neither to entreaty nor expostulation. Like bulls with locked horns, they stand motionless for a moment—the exact moment when the artist has caught them, and drawn their leaning figures in a manner that Mr. Thackeray would have been delighted with, as suggesting an animated, antagonistic, and appropriately-absurd accidental A for the initial letter of the first sentence of one of his chapters in “The Virginians.” Dave and Ginger will butt it out in good temper, and Aunt Judy need not be “oneasy in her mind.” When an irresistible meets an immovable, there occurs a collision, the consequence of which is never disastrous, and the butting-match will result in no injury to either party.[Appleton’s Journal, v.4 (1870), pp.12-13; illustration omitted]

WEDNESDAY, February 24, 1875A Negro Who Shivered Planks and Grindstones With His Head

(From the Springfield Republican)One of the “characters” in which our New England village life abounds has just

passed away at Williamstown in the death of the negro Abram Parsons, or “Abe Bunter,” as he was known to everyone acquainted with the town. Abe’s popular title was descriptive, and grew out of his ram-like or butting propensity, “bunting being his readiest and most effective method of defence. His thickness of skull, even for one of his

race, was simply astounding. He would split heavy plank with his head in the way of business, or for the amusement of any one willing to pay a quarter for such fun, or would utterly discomfit and rout an adversary by launching himself bodily and irresistibly at his stomach. These were his play spells. The worthies of the village will vouch for other stories illustrative of Abe’s more vigorous achievements. They beguiled him, years ago, into splitting a small grindstone. He was asked at one of the stores if he wanted a cheese. Naturally he did, and they told him it must be put into a salt sack and he must smash it with his head. So they inserted the stone, and Abe actually and literally shivered it and, let us hope, got his cheese. When “Cole’s store” was burned some years ago, and th heavy door could not be broken open, Abe very originally pounded it with his head. He was a kindly, good natured fellow, had been born a slave in New York state, and when freed, much against his will, found the task of caring for himself and an ever growing family a discouraging one. He was a good laborer when properly “bossed,” but up to his death represented the old-fashioned “White Oaks” shiftlessness, though latterly he was brought, with his family, somewhat under the reforming influence of Professor Hopkins mission chapel. “Abe Bunter” will be missed as a member of the “lower faculty” about the college and by the graduated at the annual commencement season.[Williamsport, PA. daily Gazette and Bulletin, 2-24-1875 also verbatim in Herald and Torch Light (Hagerstown, MD), 2-24-1875]

A KEOKUK negro was fined twenty dollars the other day for butting a white man off a flat car and into the middle of next week. So much for Buckingham.[Fresno republican, 3-16-1878]

Heart and Head BrokenRichard Dickerson, a negro, appeared before Justice Sherlock Friday

morning and made complaint that he had been assaulted by Nelson Cross and Mrs. Martha Jane Nunez. His head and face bore ample proof of his assertion, and a warrant was issued for the arrest of the man and woman. Cross was brought before the Justice by Officer Busch and Mrs. Nunez by Constable Belmals. Cross demanded an immediate examination and Mrs. Nunez’s case was adjourned to Tuesday next.

In the examination it was ascertained that Mrs. Nunez, a comely negress, is a widow. And is the proprietress of a boarding house in that portion of New Lots known by the rather dime novelty name of Blood Hollow. Dickerson and Cross are both boarders, and for some time past both have been very devoted in their attentions to the winning widow. Up to a short time ago Dickerson was the favored suitor, but unfortunately for him he lost employment, and at the same time his position in the widow’s graces. Cross then became the accepted one, and Dickerson was compelled to retire from the field.

Friday night he went to the house as he alleged, to get his clothes, to seek some other boarding house. On passing through the rooms he was the attractive widow and his rival Cross, enjoying tea together. This rather roused his jealousy, and he made a remark which Cross resented in the usual negro style—by butting with his head. Mrs. Nunez assisted Cross, as Dickerson alleges, by throwing a teacup at his (Dickerson’s) head.

Cross was found guilty and sentenced to pay a fine of $15 with the alternative of serving fifteen days in the County Jail. [Brooklyn Eagle, 7-28-1878, p. 2]

An Officer Butted by a Negro.[Subject of Illustration]

A number of Negroes gathered at the corner of Sullivan and Broom streets, this city, on Thursday, 6th inst., and when requested by Officer Hendricks to move on, they refused. Francis Langdon, a short, thick-set darkey caught the officer’s club, which hung in his belt, and lowering his head butted him over. Officer Hendricks was partially stunned by the fall, but recovering, he wrenched his club from Langdon and beat him over the head. The rest of the gang were about to take a hand in the fight when Officer Ryan came to Officer Hendrick’s assistance, and together they arrested both Langdon and a companion named Johnson. Subsequently at the Yorkville court the prisoners were sent to Blackwell’s Island.[National Police Gazette, February 22, 1879, p.13, illustration omitted]

GREENVILLE, N.C. July 25—One of the most novel contests known to the sporting world took place here to-day. While a desire to overdo the white people, the negroes arranged a butting match for a purse of $450 and the champion cap. The entries were Charles Burlington and Bod Brooks, two powerfully-built negro men of about 24 years. The butting took place in a large lot on the outskirts of the town, and was witnessed by several hundred people. The contest opened at 11 o’clock, and continued with unabated fury for two hours. At the start Burlington was the favorite, and was loudly cheered by the crowd, but he soon began to show signs of fagging, and after the first hour failed to come up to time, and had to be accorded a brief respite for rest and breath. As soon as the novel contest was renewed, Brooks remarkable powers of endurance and thick skull began to tell on his antagonist. A few minutes before the close of the contest, Burlington fell down from exhaustion and had to be carried out of the ring, and medical attendance summoned. He was terribly bruised and butted about the cranium and face, and died a few hours after leaving the field. Brooks got the purse, and will, no doubt, be arrested and get a good term of imprisonment in the state prison for manslaughter.[Atlanta Daily Constitution, 7-26-1879, p. 1] also found in [National Police Gazette, 8-9-1879, p.10; illustration p.13]

Billy the Butter.Billy the Butter is a Savannah Negro, so called because of his butting

propensities. His common feat is to break an inch board by butting against it. Therefore, when he charged angrily at Mr. Howard with his head down, Mr. Howard naturally

thought his life was in danger, and hastily fired with a pistol. Probably his fear was well founded, for the bullet glanced off the negro’s hard skull, simply stunning him. [National Police Gazette, September 27, 1879, p.6] Reported also in Reno Weekly Gazette, 9-18-1879, p.2

REPENTANCEHow an Ex-Overseer Atoned For an Injury.

[Little Rock Gazette.]A man who as an overseer before the war had driven the darkeys with a whoop

came to the city yesterday. After taking two or three drinks, and feeling that peculiar muscular growth so well known to men who stand around in “spiritual séance,” the overseer went out on the street with the swagger of a man noted for voting whole neighborhoods. An old blind colored man came walking along. The overseer looked haughtily to one side and stopped. The old man ran against him.

“You old villain,” exclaimed the overseer, hooking a hand in the old man’s collar, “haven’t you got more sense that to run over a white man?”

“Marster, fore de lord, I hopes you will ‘skuse me.”“Ah, yes, you old rattlesnake; you thought that I would be afraid to tackle you,

eh?”“Marster, ‘fore the Lord, you mus’ ‘skuse me fur da ole man hain’t seed a wink

since long afore freedom.”“Are you blind, old man?”“Yas, sah, blinder then ole Jacob at de time ob his death.”“Give me your hand, old man. Here, take this tobacco.”“Much obliged, thankee, sah.”“Here, take this pipe. Here’s a red handkerchief. Any man that would choke a

blind man ought to be stripped. Here’s fifty cents and some more tobacco. Here’s a lot of flax thread. Take it all, old man. Here’s more tobacco. Is there anybody in town that you want whipped?”

“No, sah, not a one.”“If there is, I’ll beat him till he feels like a pig with the thumps; you’ve seen pigs

with the thumps, haven’t you?”“Yes, sah.”“Well, I’ll whale him tell he has the thumps. Do you know of anybody that can

whup me?”“Why, marster?”“Because, any man that would choke a blind darkey ought to be whipped. Hold

on, don’t go-here’s some more tobacco. Put this pint bottle in you pocket. I thought at first that I’d make my will in your favor, but to save lawyer’s fees, I’ll give up everything now. Now, old man, just step back a few yards and butt me into the middle of the street.”

“Marster, I doan wanter hurt ye. I’ve got a powerful hard head.”“Do just as I say, old man. Step back and let drive.”

The old man stepped back, bowed his neck, and with a bound struck the overseer so hard that he staggered out into the street and fell. “That’s all right, sir,” he said to himself, getting up and walking away. “He served you right. The next time you collar a blind nigger I’ll use my influence to have you killed.” [Brooklyn Eagle, April 18, 1880, p. 1]

Streak o’lightnin’ fo’ miles longSome dese days gwine hit him;Ing’soll sing a undder songWhen de debbil get him!Debbil watch fo’ sich as him—Ketch him in his collar;Choke him black an’ hit him “bim[?];”Butt him twill he holler!Debbil stan’ up kimbo straight,Laugh at Ing’soll prancin’;Stan’ him in a red hot plate—Pat while Bob’s a dancin’!

--A new darkey ditty in Louisiana[Brooklyn Eagle, May 9, 1880, p. 1; I assume the reference is to Robert Ingersoll]

SOMETHING OF A LIARCraniology as Discussed in a Fulton Street Saloon

“You can’t hurt a darky round the head, nohow,” said a truckman in a Fulton street saloon yesterday, as he leaned one arm upon the lunch counter, and faced the loungers of the place. “You know that buildin’ that caved in over in New York not long ago? Well, a Thomspon street Zulu was right plumb alongside the wall when she keeled over. Did he get flattened out? Well, I guess not. He just climbed out from a heap of brick and shook the plaster off him, saying ‘Golly, ain’t de dust thick round h’yer l’ and walked on. No, sir, there ain’’t nothin’ that can crack a darky’s skull.”

“A grindstun can,” remarked a weazened farmer, who had just called for some applejack. He had heretofore been silent, and now spoke in an oracular manner, which attracted general attention.

“A grindstone? How’s that?” was asked.“Well, there was a nigger down in Patchogue named Oliver Cromwell, and his

skull was so hard you could crack walnuts on it. One day he got mad and butted a feller in the stomach. After the fellow got well he said he had thought all along it was a cannon ball that had hit him.”

“But tell us about the grindstone?”“I’m goin’ to. You see, Oliver used to brag about his buttin’, and would take up

all kinds of bets. One day a feller bet him fifty cents he wouldn’t dare tackle an old gaot that I kept shut up in a stubblefield with a stun fence around it. That goat was a bad ‘un,

and when he wanted to take a straight road anywhere people generally went around. But Oliver thought he could show the goat a thing or two about buttin’, So he climbed over into the stubblefield, scooted down and run at the goat. The goat reared up, set his head on one side and charged. Jest as Oliver bent his head down to butt a bit of the stubble pricked him in the nose and made him raise up. So that the goat took him square in the face, instead of on the cocoanut. But his nose was flat anyhow, so he didn’t mind it much, though he let goats alone after that.”

“What’s that got to do with the grindstone?” inquired an impatient listener.“Well, you see, one Saturday night Oliver was down at the grocery store, and the

grocer had jest got a lot of fresh cheese from the factory. He rolled one of ‘em up on the counter, and said: ‘Gentlemen, there’s a good solid cheese for you.’ Oliver stood a lookin’ at it, and he says, says he, ‘Go ‘long! Ef I was to butt my head ‘gainst dat dar cheese, you’d see me go froo it like de pony goes froo de paper hoopse at de circus.’ ‘I’ll bet you a dollar you can’t,’ says the grocer, and Oliver took him up. He jest set the cheese up agin the wall, stepped back a ways, and made a dive for it; and I’m darned if that nigger didn’t butt his head clean through the cheese, and the grocer had to pay him the dollar.”

“But what were you going to tell about the grindstone?”“I’m coming to that. You see, the grocer felt kind of mean about the cheese, so he

and some of the fellers put up a job on Oliver. There was an old grindstun lyin’ round in the yard back of the store, no crank to it, not nothin’ but the bare stun. It was a big un, and it took two men to take it. Well, they took that ‘ere grindstun and put it inside of an old cheese rind that they’d scooped out on purpose, with a cheese cloth ‘round it. The next Saturday night when Oliver came into the store, the grocer said, ‘That was a soft cheese you butted through t’other night. I’ll bet you a dollar and a jalf you can’t make a dent in this one here.’ Oliver had ought to have smelt a rat, but he didn’t. ‘All right,’ says he ‘I like dat. Put out de money, boss an’ show me de cheese what I can’t ‘nihilate de fust round.’ The grocer had the grindstun on the counter all ready, braced up agin a post, and he pinted it out to Oliver. Oliver run at it like awild bull and made a butt that shook the whole shanty. He bounded back about seven foot, when he struck that grindstun and looked ‘round, kind o’ dazed like. When he saw he hadn’t dented the thing, he set down on a bar’l of crackers and said he felt pow’ful queer. They gave him a drink, and pretty soon he went out without sayin’ anything. That was only a week or two before he died, I recollect. He never butted again. THE doctor said he died from accidental softenin’ of the brain.”

Here the old farmer set down his glass, pulled the rim of his cap over his ears, and prepared to go.

“What do you think now, after that yarn?” the bartender inquired of the truckman.“Oh, I don’t mind that,” was the reply, “I’m something of a liar myself.”

[Brooklyn Eagle, December 11, 1881, p. 3]

A Novel Way of Defending Himself[Salt Lake Tribune.]

They had a little game of draw at the surveyors’ camp near Cherry Creek the other day, and the negro cook took a hand. He also took the disputed “pot,” and then the row begun. The negro butted one man in the stomach and then hid in a tent. They hunted him out of that, but are no doubt sorry they found him, as he ran the blockade by doing some scientific butting, seeing that one of his opponents was armed with a knife and another an ax. One man got it in the mouth and the other in the stomach, and the negro made for the woods. His mode of fighting was a revelation to the boys. After getting so hungry next morning that they would rather east than fight, the cook was permitted to return to camp. [Brooklyn Eagle, December 18, 1881, P. 2]

"The boxing match, next announced, proceeded to be one of the most vigorous ever witnessed upon any stage. The contestants were Mr. Julius Caesar, champion of the West Side, and Morris Grant, known as 'Scalping' Grant. These men are full-blooded negroes. The blows upon their heads might have broken paving-stones, if dealt in the same manner, but their heads gave no outward signs of injury. Everybody roared as the pugilists dashed at each other like fast-going locomotives in collision. Mr. Grant was declared the victor."[New York Times, Nov 30, 1883] This took place at a benefit for the/an/ex American Middleweight Champion boxer George Rooke. For Morris Grant, see http://www.cyberboxingzone.com/boxing/grant-m.htm

A Butting MatchWANAMEE, Pa., Feb. 20.—A butting match of twenty-seven rounds between Evan Evans and Robert McCauly was fought here Monday morning, both contestants weighing about two hundred and ten pounds. At the finish of the brutal exhibition Evans’ head was fractured, and he is not expected to recover, while his opponent’s condition is little better. A large amount of money changed hands.[Oshkosh Daily Northwestern, 2-20-1884, p. 1]

Sorakichi told me a few days ago, that it was a mistake to think that butting could not be developed and increased in the same manner as sparring or wrestling, or indeed any other branch of athletic exercise. To illustrate it, he stood off from the solid wall of the room in which we were talking and deliberately plunged head first against it. It was an awful dive and actually made one sick to see it. I thought the man had fractured his skull, but he bounded up in the air, grinning and just to show that he didn’t mind, the

exercise, dashed head first into the wall again with his arms at his side. It was the most amazing exhibition I had ever seen. He says that when the boys in Japan are very young, they begin to butt in this manner regularly. It is the way they fight in the streets. It develops the muscles of the neck so that they become extraordinarily strong and relieve the spine of the shock of the blow on the head. The scalp, with its network of interwoven muscles, also becomes hardened and tough. The shock never produces a headache. Sorakichi is now practicing catch as catch can rules and declares that he will defeat Bibby at his own game before he returns to Japan. [Brooklyn Eagle, March 16, 1884, p. 3]

An old and barbarous style of fighting has been revived at Wanamie, Pa., where there was recently a desperate bucking match for $200, between two men named Hial Evans and Bob McCauly. The contest was a desperate one, lasting 25 rounds, and it is thought one of the combatants-Evans-will not recover from the effect of injuries received. Both men went into training some time ago, and on the morning when they faced each other, weighed about 210 pounds each. Both men were possessed of big heads and built in proportion. In the first round Evans bucked McCauly in the stomach and threw him over the ropes. A foul was claimed by McCauly’s friends, as he said he struck him below the belt. The foul was refused. In the next round both men bucked their heads together, and the report was so loud that it was thought by the spectators their heads were broken. They were not hurt much, however, and the fight went on. In the eleventh round Evans had his nose broken by a terrific blow from the head of McCauly, and in the fifteenth round McCauly had five teeth broken in his mouth by a similar collision. In the twenty-fifth round both men came together with such great force as to send them back reeling. Evans was knocked insensible and was unable to come to the scratch. His skull is fractured and he is not expected to live. McCauly is not in a much better condition.[San Francisco Chronicle, 3-18-1884, p. 3]

There was to be a butting match in Colorado between a robust Swede and a negro. They were to start ten feet back from the scratch with their heads lowered, and rush at each other like rams, the collision to be repeated until one was disabled. At the last moment somebody whispered the Swede what he had never heard before—that the African skull is generally deemed invulnerable under a concussion that would smash a white man’s. This destroyed his courage, and he dodged the wooly head that came plunging viciously at him. The negro, missing the expected resistance, was by momentum carried a rod against a fence, on which he was dangerously punctured.[Evening Observer (Dunkirk, NY), 4-26-1884, p. 8]

The adamantine qualities of the negro’s head are as well known as is the result of multiplying two by two. However it seems that Elijah Jones, a colored youth who lacked but one month of seeing his nineteenth Thanksgiving day, thought different. And so he got into the custom lately of going along the streets and butting the panels out of doors with his head. Like the pitcher tat went to the well, Elijah butted one door too many. His funeral expenses yesterday were defrayed by the city.[The Daily News (Frederick, MD), 11-4-1884, p. 1]

Hitched to the vehicle are two goats—ordinary everyday goats, such as we associate with the chewing of tomato cans and the butting of stooping negroes. [Brooklyn Eagle, 2-8-1885, p. 2; in a review of a play in which goats appear onstage pulling a cart]

A Southern Horse TamerThere is a colored preacher who lives near Jasper, Gs., who rules his horse by

butting him. If the horse is fractious or stubborn he takes the kinks out by deliberately seizing it by the ears and butting it squarely in the forehead until it falls to its knees. This it generally does at the second or third butt, when the old parson steps behind and drives ahead again.—Conyers (Ga.) Solid South.[Mitchell Daily Republican (SD), 5-9-1886]

One negro has succeeded in fracturing the skull of another, at Columbia, S.C., by butting him in the forehead. [Brooklyn Eagle, 6-30-1887, p. 4]

J.C. Clark and Richard Hughes, who stand over six feet in height and weigh in the neighborhood of two hundred and nine pounds, engaged in a butting match for $20 at Kansas City. They butted each other for six rounds, punishing each other frightfully. In the sixth round Clarke’s head landed on Hughes’ forehead. The latter fell insensible and Clarke was declared the winner. [Brooklyn Eagle, 12-8-1889, p. 14]

Butted an Ox to DeathA seemingly incredible story comes from St. Louis to the effect that “Big Six,” a

negro pugilist, on a wager, butted an ox to death. He caught the animal by the horns with his hands and drawing back a full arm’s length he ran his head against that of the ox with the forve of a battering ram. He repeated this three times, when the ox fell to the ground, dying soon after. There was a small lump on the negro’s head after the butting feat, but

he suffered no pain. “Big Six” stands 5 feet 10 inches, weighs 240 pounds and the muscles of his arms, shoulders and chest stand out in knots.—Philadelphia Ledger[The Bucks County Gazette (PA), 5-15-1890]

HIRED TO WHIP OVERTON.The Remarkable Story of a Police Conspiracy.

Charles Scheff, ‘the Stone Breaker,’ Declares that He Was Promised $250 If He Would Disable the Colored Officer—Some Decidedly Corroborative Evidence—

Why The Plot Failed.…

Scheff, in a way, is a remarkable young man. According to his own statement he is 22 years of age, although he seems somewhat older. He is about 5 feet 6 inches in height, weighs nearly 180 pounds and is broad shouldered and very muscular. Since he was 10 years of age he has appeared in museums and variety theaters as a boxer, wrestler, and “all around” strong man breaking cobble stones with his bare fists and, as an exhibition of the strength of his skull, permitting another performer to break with a hammer cobble stones which were held upon his head. As a wrestler he appeared at Hyde & Behman’s not long ago and tried his skill against that of the celebrated Japanese Matsuda Sorakichi. The contest was long and exciting and ended in a tie.

If ever a face expressed determination it is Scheff’s, with its firm mouth and square cut jaw. His hair is sandy and his eyes hazel color. When smiling Scheff’s expression is very good natured. The prisoner was born in Elizabeth, N.J., but has traveled extensively. He seems to have a natural antipathy to colored men, and when in the South amused himself and his friends by “butting” with Negroes who held championship honors in the towns visited by the theatrical combinations with which he was connected. Scheff’s stage name by the way is Charles Cliff.

“Butting” is a popular amusement among the Southern negroes. A ring is roped off 40 feet in length and 3 feet in width. The contestants take their positions at opposite ends of the ring and with lowered heads rush upon each other, striking their skulls together. The hardest head, of course, wins. Although Scheff acknowledged that there were negro heads harder than his he had a way of striking his adversary a glance blow under the ear that knocked him out almost any time. [Brooklyn Eagle, 4-19-1891, p. 1]

Devol the SportMr. George Hannibal Devol, the retired “sport” and author of the celebrated work

entitled “Forty Years a Gambler on the Mississippi,” has at last found a new vocation. He is going on the dramatic stage.….The public will have the pleasure of seeing the most thoroughly genuine living exponent of the “palmy days” sporting man of the southwest. In his early days Mr. Devol used to amuse himself by having butting matches with negro deck hands on the Mississippi, and

he never failed to “do his man.” He is rather too old to take part in pastime of this character now, but it would have added greatly to the interest of the play if the author could have arranged for a skull-cracking contest in the scene which Mr. Devol is to make famous.[Atlanta Constitution, 6-19-1894, p.1] See also http://www.oldandsold.com/articles01/article851.shtml

WELLS HAS A SKULL OF ADAMANTMan Who Stood and Laughed Gayly at Footpads

Billy Wells, champion iron skull man of the world, is in the city. He has his Police Gazette medal with him, and is anxious to go against anything in Chicago that thinks it can butt, from the toughest moke on the levee to the heaviest and most cantankerous goat on Goose Island, Wells is widely known as “the man with the ossified cranium.” His skull is three times the ordinary thickness, is as solid as a tock, and the has no feeling, either in boner or scalp.

During the past sixteen years he has won 312 butting matches against southern blacks, and two years ago whipped the champion African “bucker” of Arkansas. This happened at Arkadelphia, in the presence of the wealth and fashion of that metropolis. Tocks weighing from 150 to 200 pounds are smashed on Wells’ head without causing him inconvenience. Heavy iron bars are bent over it. He takes a solid wooden chair with a seat two inches thick, holds it high over his head, and brings the seat down upon his skull with all of his force, not once, but a dozen times.

Once in Huber’s museum, New York city, his assistant became excited and struck him on the edge with a sledgehammer before the rock was in place. The blow was delivered with all of a strong man’s force. It knocked him down, of course, but all of the harm it did was to split the scalp for an inch. There was not an indentation nor a mark on the marvelous skull. Wells is a genuine freak His cranium has been in this remarkable condition since his birth. His shoulder bones ad leg bones are also three times the common thickness. In St. Louis four years ago a couple of footpads sandbagged him until they were tired, and then fled in fright. Wells stood calmly under the storm of blows, first removing his hat, and laughed at them. He is forty-six years old in perfect health, and says that he never had a headache in his life. His mother is 103 years of age.—Kansas City Journal.[The Daily Northwestern (Oshkosh, WI), 2-8-1898, p. 4]

A Mississippi judge has decided that a butting negro’s head is a deadly weapon. Fortunately, however, for the negro he cannot be accused of carrying it as a concealed weapon.[Atlanta Constitution 1-5-02, p. 5]

Mule Got the Worst of It.

What a Colored Man Did With His Head.

“Speaking of hard-headedness reminds me of a negro I once knew,” said a man at one of the hotels in Mew Orleans to a representative of the Times Democrat, “and he had about the hardest head I ever came across. Mind you, I am talking about sure enough hard-headedness, actual physical hard-headedness. The negro used to work for me when I lived in the country. He was a farm hand. He was a quarrelsome sort of negro, had an awfully high temper and was always giving way to it. He was almost daily in a fight of some sort and there was not a negro in forty miles of where he lived who could whip him. They would always hammer him over the head, and if they had used cushioned and padded clubs it would have had about the same effect. He simply never felt the blows.

“I once saw a big negro waste a panel of fence on him one afternoon, breaking one paling after another over his head and without any effect whatever. My negro fought like a goat—with his head. Bowing his neck and pulling the forehead down, he would make a rush for his antagonist, and if he should happen to land a good butt he would put his man out. Often I have seen him almost kill negroes in this way. It would take some time to bring them around.

“But I am drifting somewhat from the point I had in mind. The negro would butt anything that happened to cross him, and if he had ever had occasion I don’t suppose he would have drawn the line on a billy goat, a ram, or a bull. The incident I have in mind convinced me that he would not draw the line. One morning he got out to the horse lot earlier than usual and was in a bad humor for some reason. He started to take his bad feeling out on the mule he was to plow with during the day. The first thing he did was to smash his water jug over the mule’s head. This did not hurt the mule so very much and did not satisfy the negro. He was in one of his more violent fits.

“Grabbing the mule by the ears with each hand, he pulled himself back a full arm’s length and landed his head with great violence on the top of the mule’s head. If the mule had been struck between the ears with an ax he would not have dropped to the ground more quickly. He fell like a dead ox. But he got up again. The negro was apparently satisfied after this and went on to the field. When it came to downright hard-headedness he was the most remarkable member I ever saw.[Brooklyn Eagle, November 23, 1902, p. 36]

The plea of a Nashville negro, convicted of butting an enemy almost fatally, was that in infancy he had been fed on milk from a notoriously belligerent goat. The Judge said that he could not regard that fact as extenuating.[Fresno Republican, 1-17-05]

[Indianapolis Star, 2-20-1920, p. 23] Comic strip, see http://home.comcast.net/~jason-couch/2-20-1910_butting_comic.pdf

Mysterious House of DeathTRAGIC HISTORY OF WAYSIDE INN NEAR ELIZABETHTOWN WHICH

WAS SCENE OF MANY CRIMES[Wide World Magazine]

IN the days of log schoolhouses and overland travel there stood near Elizabethtown, Ohio, a wayside inn, the history of which teems with terrible deeds.….

Andrew, the son, was a powerful, evil-looking fellow, the prototype of his father, and in early life acquired an unenviable reputation as a gambler and bully. He won considerable unsavory renown through his great physical prowess, being an adept at a certain form of contest then in vogue. This was known as “butting” and consisted in the assuming by the contestants of positions some 10 feet apart, whence, at the command of a referee, they would rush forward with lowered heads to dash their craniums together with fearful force. Young Russell is said to have killed several opponents in such contests and subsequently met retributive justice in a like manner.….

Apart from his other malpractices, Moses Russell brought upon himself merited opprobrium by the practice of a form of fraud quite common during the days of slavery. It was his custom to introduce Kentucky slaves to desert their masters by promise of transportation into Canada and then hold them prisoners until a reward was offered, when they were returned to their owners.

This practice attained such proportions along the border that a patrol of the Ohio River shore was established by Kentucky planters, who dealt our dire punishment to white offenders. Upon one occasion Russell was captured, bound to a tree, and soundly drubbed by these patrolmen; who apprehended him in the act of embarking three slaves into a boat preparatory to taking them into Ohio.

It was in a “butting” match with a Herculean negro whom Russell was detaining at the inn pending the offer of a reward, that Andrew Russell met his death, and incidentally the innkeeper paid full penalty for his black misdeeds. Crazed with grief and rage at his son’s death, he drew a knife and stabbed the negro to the heart. The black, as he fell, seized Russell by the throat, and they rolled to the floor in a death grip. When the horrified onlookers parted them both men were dead.

For some years thereafter the old inn was occupied intermittently, but eventually it became rumored that the place was haunted, and that the ghosts of travelers and other who had come to a violent end wandered at will through the silent rooms. It was therefore deserted and its very neighborhood avoided. Gradually the elements wore the dilapidated building away, and to-day naught remains of the old tavern save sinister traditions regarding its evil character in former times.[Washington Post, 3-27-1910, p. 3] The same story was repeated with different names and locations 8 months later. The description of the innkeeper’s son was exactly the same. The way in which he met his end was somewhat expanded as follows:

It was in a butting match with a Herculean negro whom Richardson was detaining at his place pending the offer of a reward that Bruce Richardson met his death and incidentally the father paid full penalty for his misdeeds.

The negro had been incarcerated in the cellar of the Crows’ Roost for several weeks without material advantage to his captors, and young Richardson conceived the idea of making him profitable in a manner after his own heart. The elder Richardson fell in with the project at once and a date was set for the encounter.

News of the projected match was passed out by habitues of the place, and on the night of the contest a number of sporting men from Cincinnati and carious intermediated points were assembled to witness the affair.

According to Russell Hollister, who recently died in Lawrenceburg at the advanced age of 93 years, and who witnessed the match, it was the most hideous exhibition of brutality ever viewed in the Ohio valley.

The meeting took place in the rear of the roadhouse, where ropes had been stretched on four sides to separate the participants from the spectators.

Richardson and the negro entered this crude arena, stripped to the waist and posed before the audience, while wagers aggregating more than $1,000 were laid. Then, at the command of a referee, they assumed their respective places in opposite corners of the room. When the word to charge was given, they sprang forward, crashing their skulls together with an impact that could easily have been heard fifty yards away.

After the first fierce onslaught it was seen by the excited spectators that Richardson was bleeding slightly from mouth and nostrils, and instantly the betting odds rose in favor of the black, who appeared to have been unaffected by the charge.

The combatants, after a short breathing spell, reassumed their positions and charged again, this time much to the detriment of the negro, who retied to his corner in a perceptibly groggy state. He recovered, however, and in an almost incredibly brief space of time the combat was resumed.

At this point Hank Richardson interrupted the proceedings long enough to wager all of his earthly possessions, including the Crows’ Roost, upon his son’s success.

This pause seemed to turn the tide somewhat in the negro’s favor, and when the men faced each other for the third rush, young Richardson appeared decidedly shaky. However, he was doggedly determined and charged with a powerful lunge when the word was given.

The men came together like opposing tornadoes, with set jaws and gleaming eyes, and the force of impact was fearful.

FATHER OF DEAD MAN TAKES UP THE QUARRELAs they withdrew Bruce Richardson was seen to stagger and fall to the floor. He

gave one or two shuddering gasps, then lay still, his career of crime, brutality and lawlessness ended forever! [Hank Richardson then pulls a knife and a long description of that fight follows][Indianapolis Sunday Star, 11-27-1910] For full version see http://home.comcast.net/~jason-couch/butting_11-27-10.pdf

My Greatest Thrill As Third Man In The Ring(This is the fourteenth of a series of fifteen articles by leading members of the

fistic fraternity, referees, sport writers, trainers and others who tell of their biggest moment as third man in the ring.)XIV—A FIGHT WHICH HEADS, NOT FISTS, DECIDED

BY CHARLES MAXWELLProminent referee of Lima, Ohio. (As told to Kiddy Romano.)

Copyright 1929, by the Post-CrescentIN the one thousand and more fights I have refereed, I believe the greatest thrill I

ever had was when I refereed a bout between Kid Ash, of Cincinnati, and Christie Williams, of Dayton, Ohio.

These colored boys had met eleven times preciously. The decision in most cases was a draw. I guess they knew each other’s style pretty well and for that reason knew what to expect.

This certain evening, after the bout had progressed through six rounds of toe to toe fighting, Kid Ash said to me before he went to his corner.

“Please, Mr. Maxwell, let us use our own style for the rest of the fight.”They were both willing and as the crowd had an idea of what was in store for

them, I of course gave approval.They came out for the seventh,--bumping heads. Head bounced off head and the

sound created was like that of two billiard balls colliding on the green table.The men charged into each other like billy goats, heads down and grunting for all

the world as though the louder grunt would add to the force of the butting conks.Something was bound to give and it did. When Ash went to his corner at the end

of the round, his seconds cut a piece of skin, about the size of a paper dollar, from his forehead. Undismayed by the wound, Ash went on and the butting contest proceeded.

There was nothing for me to do but stay back and watch the unusual contest. Both agreed to carry on and I marveled to think that two men, exasperated because neither could not score a victory with his fists, resorted to an unethical method of deciding who was the better fighter.

Williams won the butting contest. Ash was paid $400 for his efforts. I later learned that he borrowed carfare to leave town next morning. Apparently something other than the victor’s glory was at stake in the unique contest.[Appleton-Post Crescent (WI), 7-3-1929, p. 13]

Negro’s Neck Broken in “Butting” ContestWheeling, Oct. 17 (AP)—Accused of breaking the neck of another Negro in a skull-butting contest, Donnie Nall, 29 years old, is held by police today on a manslaughter charge. He was arrested shortly after Alex Chillis, 45 years old, died yesterday.

The officers, who say Chillis was a victim of injuries sustained in the contest, quote Nall as saying :it was all in fun.”

Police explained that the popularity of skull-butting, a game in which the combatants rush at each other, heads lowered in goat fashion, has been increasing in this section recently and that Chillis had been boasting of his prowess.[Charleston Daily Mail (Charleston, WV), 10-17-1932]

Manslaughter is Charged to Wheeling Skull ButterWheeling Oct. 22(AP)—Charged with involuntary manslaughter as a result of a skull-butting contest in which police say Alex Chillis, 40 years old, was fatally injured, Donnie Nall, 29 years old, is being held for the grand jury.

Magistrate J.K. McLaughlin ordered the case held over after the defendant was exonerated by a coroner’s jury which decided the death of Chillis was a result of a “friendly game.”[Charleston Daily Mail, 10-22-1932, p. 2]

Torres-Panther Face Rio PairEnrique Torres, claimant to the world’s heavyweight mat crown, and the popular

Black Panther join hands at El Rio Arena tomorrow night to bump craniums with the rough pair of Tony Morelli and Antone Leone in a tag team match.

Torres and the head-butting Negro have paired before, probing to be a formidable combination. They have yet to taste defeat.[Oxnard Press Courier (CA), 1-15-1948, p. 4]

Tex’s Terrors Tangle in Team MatchesSharing the top billing on the double main event card are an Australian tag team

match and a battle between Wild Bill Fletcher and Frank James, the butting Baltimore Negro. Both top events are booked for one hour and the best two-out-of-three falls.….Frank James will be returning to the Helena ring for the first time since the fall of 1953 when he made kindling out of the heavy supports. He will be meeting a crafty comer in Fletcher, a favorite with Helena fans.[The Independent Record (Helena, MT), 3-30-1955, p. 9]