William P. Taulbee was born in Morgan County, Kentucky – about 80 miles east of Lexington up in the mountains – on October 22, 1851. Tutored by his father while also attending “public school” as it existed in rural Kentucky in the 1850s, Taulbee was ordained for the ministry in the Methodist Episcopal Church, South. John Wesley, who founded Methodism, hated the idea of slavery. When the Methodist Episcopal Church [MEC] met in Baltimore in December 1784, they officially opposed slavery, carrying on Wesley’s wishes.
That said, Methodists and Baptists softened their stance on
slavery in the 19th century in an effort to appeal to Southern
parishioners, saying that the Bible did, in fact, acknowledge the role of
slavery in society, but that slaveowners should
treat their slaves better. In 1840 James Osgood Andrew, a Methodist bishop in Oxford,
Georgia bought a slave. Later that year the MEC chose not to expel Bishop
Andrew from its ranks. In 1844 Andrew’s new bride owned an enslaved person
inherited from her mother. Now Bishop Andrew owned two enslaved people, drawing
criticism from the northern members of the MEC. This time, however, the General
Conference decided to suspend the Bishop until he gave up the enslaved persons
living with him. Mirroring a debate that was swirling around the country in
general in the mid-19th century, Southern delegates weren’t so sure
that the General Conference had the authority to discipline bishops in such a
manner. They split, and formed the MEC South [MEC, S]. This was the version of
the denomination in which William Taulbee was raised, and preached, earning him
the nickname of the “Mountain Orator.”
After shoveling coal and teaching school, Taulbee studied
law, winning the clerk seat in the Magoffin County Court in 1878, just a little
bit further southeast than Morgan County, moonlighting as a preacher in the
MEC,S. Re-elected as county clerk in 1882, Taulbee ran as a Democrat and won a
seat in the House of Representatives in 1884 and was re-elected again in 1886. Taulbee’s
political future was all but secured. But whispers and rumors soon surrounded
him. As
Robert S. Pohl noted, the Catlettsburg (KY) Democrat predicted, “We will now say in print what we have
predicted to various gentlemen in private, that Pres. Taulbee, should he live,
will be governor of Kentucky inside of ten years.” Referring to him as “Pres”
is notable, as is the “should he live” qualifier. Why would his life be cut
short at such a young age? The Maysfield (KY) Daily Bulletin noted that a recent speech of Taulbee’s had been
attended by a crowd “largely composed of ladies.”
Taulbee’s personal life became of note to a journalist with
the Louisville Times named Charles
Kincaid. Kincaid, who like Taulbee had studied law, had been writing articles
saying that Taulbee was personally profiting from his service in Congress. But
Kincaid dropped a bomb in December 1887 when he accused the “Silver-Tongued
Taulbee” of being “caught in a most compromising position” in the top-floor model
room at the Patent Office” with a “Brown-Haired Miss Dodge.” Taulbee grew
bolder, according to Kincaid, “Not content with caressing in this place, the
Congressman was seen by the old watchman to kiss his sweetheart on the stairway
one day: a parting salute, as it were. It smacked like a cow pulling her hoof
out of the mud.”
Miss Laura Louisa Dodge was “a little beauty,” Kincaid
wrote, “bright as a sunbeam and saucy as a bowl of jelly. She is petite of
figure, but plump as a partridge,” with “cheeks like peaches, lips like
rosebuds tipped with dew.” And Taulbee got Miss Dodge appointed to her position
in the Patent Office, on her appointment she said she was from Kentucky. She
wasn’t – she was from Massachusetts and lived with her parents. She
also wasn’t yet 18 years old, just a little older than Taulbee’s marriage
to Lou Emma Oney Taulbee, with whom they had five children. Laura Dodge moved
to the Pension Office, eliminating any conflict with the Patent Office. Kincaid
called for Taulbee’s removal, but the
story did not find its way into the Washington Post.
Despite buying a house in Washington, Taulbee did not run
for re-election in 1888 and went into lobbying, as one does when your political
career is basically over. Taulbee selected his successor to run as a Democrat
for his seat, but he – as did most of the Democratic Party in 1888 – lost.
Taulbee endured yet another black eye in 1889. The House of
Representatives had its own bank, known creatively as the House Bank. Their
salaries would get deposited into an account for each representative, who could
then write a check to draw against their salary. Over
time the House Bank expanded its financial services to include check
cashing, wire transfers, deposits from other representatives, and also allowed “check-cashing
and other services for House aides and journalists.” Of course some
representatives overdrew their accounts, but did so without a penalty though
they weren’t allowed to write checks against future salary deposits.
Anyhow, in 1889 a House Bank cashier deliciously named
Craven Silcott took off with $75,000 (over $2.2 million today) of deposits and
also with a French-Canadian prostitute named Herminie Thiebault but whose
street name was Lulu Barrett. They were briefly spotted at Thiebault’s sister’s
house in Montreal but escaped again, never to be found again. Members of the
House of Representatives who were not affected by Silcott’s theft rejected the
idea of reimbursing those affected, but when the Court of Claims reimbursed one
member, Congress paid everybody back. Taulbee was one of the ones affected,
though because he wasn’t a current
member of the House of Representatives, it was uncertain whether or not he
would be reimbursed.
Where Taulbee was, well, tall, Kincaid was the exact
opposite – a foot shorter than Taulbee, barely 100 pounds, and quite a sickly
man. As Taulbee was a Washington lobbyist from Kentucky, and Kincaid was the
Washington correspondent for the Louisville Times,
they often met, with Taulbee taking pleasure in pulling Kincaid’s nose or ears.
Extremely disrespectful, to be honest. Kentucky
State Historian James Klotter noted that this was a deliberate disrespect –
Taulbee didn’t view Kincaid as someone worth fighting. He
occasionally mentioned that he might kill Kincaid.
On the morning of February 28, 1890, tensions between the
two Kentuckians had reached a boiling point. The House was due to go into
session at 11:30am and the lobbyist and the journalist met each other –
coincidentally, apparently – outside the chamber doors. The two exchanged insults,
Taulbee allegedly wanted to talk with Kincaid, which Kincaid didn’t want to do.
Taulbee, most first-hand accounts agree (again, according to Pohl), said
something along the lines of “I wish to see you.” Kincaid said he couldn’t,
since he was waiting for a gentleman,” which, you gotta hand it to him, is a
pretty good burn.
Taulbee grabbed Kincaid by the lapel of his jacket, possibly
also tweaking Kincaid’s nose again. This time the Washington Post did pick up on a Taulbee story.
Kincaid, again the physical inferior between the two, said “I am in no
condition for a physical contest with you – I am a small man, and not armed.”
Taulbee replied, “Then you had better be armed.” Kincaid went home.
At 1:30pm Taulbee was coming down the stairs outside the
House chamber with a friend to go to lunch. The stairs were in a Y shape – two staircases
from the second floor to the landing, and a single staircase to the first
floor. As Taulbee descended a voice from the other staircase said, “Can you see
me now?” Taulbee turned, the friend took off. Kincaid had gone home to get his
pistol, and shot Taulbee in the face.
Taulbee stumbled around, making his way a few steps below,
before some of his friends caught him and eventually took Taublee to nearby Providence
Hospital. As Capitol Police officers approached Kincaid, he simply said, “I did
it – I am the man who did the shooting.” They turned him over to the
Metropolitan Police Department.
Initially it was thought that, though Kincaid’s bullet
struck Taulbee below the eye and settled in the back of his skull, it was a
non-fatal wound. Kincaid was informed that, though he would be set free with a
$2,000 bond, he could be rearrested if Taulbee died. Taulbee seemed to be doing
okay, he told his brother what happened: yeah, he grabbed Kincaid; yeah, he
probably pulled his ear; but under no circumstances did he pull Kincaid’s nose.
On March 4 – four days after the shooting – Dr. John W. Bayne went home for the
night, apparently happy with Taulbee’s condition enough to go home and sleep.
Still, doctors could not locate the bullet. On March 5 it
was assumed that Taulbee would die, which he did early on the morning of March
11. The bullet had formed an abscess between Taulbee’s brain and skull,
paralyzing him until he died.
Kincaid was rearrested. He asked to sleep another hour, this
request was denied, though the stressed-out Kincaid was allowed to have his own
cell. On March 15 – four days after Taulbee’s death and the day after his
funeral – Kincaid, unable to stand on his own, was indicted by a grand jury. Over
a month later, he was able to post the $20,000 bail and walked out, awaiting
trial.
Kincaid’s defense team was an odd one, led by Indiana
Senator Daniel Voorhees. Voorhees was a devout Democrat – from the same party
as Taulbee, his neighbor to the south. That said, Voorhess was well-liked by
Republican members from across the branches of government, noted for his
kind-heartedness and amiability…on a personal level, if not a political one.
The trial – delayed for almost a year to allow Congress time
to finish its business and recess - centered around Taulbee’s bullying of
Kincaid, noting the number of times Taulbee threw Kincaid across a hallway, or against
an iron railing; or when riding an elevator together, Taulbee tried to crush Kincaid’s
toes with the heel of his boot. Eight current and former congressmen testified
on Kincaid’s behalf. Kincaid eventually took the stand in his own defense,
testifying under oath that the 11:30am “meeting” between he and Taulbee ended
with Taulbee’s threat, “You damned little coward and monkey, now go and arm yourself.”
The jury was adjourned for deliberations on April 8, 1891.
That evening they returned a not-guilty verdict for the reasons of
self-defense. Kincaid went back to Kentucky to be a reporter for the Cincinnati
Enquirer, and died 15 years later at
the age of 51, three years after Taulbee’s widow passed away, buried next to
her husband. Miss Dodge married a Pension Office official named William Paul
ten years after Taulbee’s death. When Paul died in 1927 she married attorney
Tracy L. Jeffords, a former assistant U.S. attorney. Jeffords died in 1949, his
obituary noting his devotion as a Sunday School teacher at the Francis
Asbury Methodist Church. His widow, Laura Louisa Dodge Paul Jeffords, passed
away at the age of 89, on December 25, 1959.
