American History Tellers - Kentucky Blood Feud - The Murder of Daniel Bates | 1

Episode Date: December 11, 2019

The longest and bloodiest feud in American history erupted in the 1840s in Clay County, Kentucky — where it raged for nearly a century and ultimately claimed more than 150 lives. The Clay County War, also known as the Baker-Howard Feud, pitted four families against each other: the powerful Garrads and Whites, who assembled vast wealth mining salt, and the less influential Bakers and Howards. In time, the Garrards would align with the Bakers, and the Whites with the Howards. At first, the families got along, cooperating in the back-breaking work involved with extracting salt in the Appalachian region. But as the economy collapsed and new technologies led to new competition from the outside, the families would find themselves increasingly competing for survival — and a single act of violence would be enough to spark a conflict that spanned generations. Support us by supporting our sponsors!See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Wondery Plus subscribers can binge new seasons of American History Tellers early and ad-free right now. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Imagine it's 9 o'clock in the morning on October 3rd, 1845. It's still chilly in this small building next to the Clay County Courthouse in eastern Kentucky. As you step outside the county jail, you take deep breaths of fresh mountain air, and it's a welcome relief. You've been visiting a prisoner, a man scheduled to hang in a matter of hours. Your host, the sheriff, turns to you. Sorry about the stink inside, Reverend. He refuses to keep clean. It's okay, son. It's obvious the

man is not right in the head. And given that, I don't understand why the execution is taking place. There has to be a way to stop this. You know I can't do anything about that, Reverend. He still won't denounce what he did. Abner Baker must die, according to judge and jury. The man hears voices, Sheriff. The devil made him do it? Plots against his life by his own mother and father? Surely the lunatic asylum in Lexington is a much better solution than taking a man's life. He suffers from delusions. Delusions. Surely, Reverend, you don't believe that hogwash. He's putting it on. Baker was a doctor. He knows right from wrong. He shot his brother-in-law in the back in cold blood.

But you know as well as I do that Abner didn't get a fair trial. At least half of that jury were of the victim's family. You're even a cousin. All due respect, Reverend, Daniel Bates did not deserve to get shot in the back, and his wife did not deserve to become a widow at such a young age. No matter how you look at it, Abner Baker is a bad man, and Clay County would be better off without him. And within an hour, we will be. You and the sheriff get on your horses and trot out to the road towards the outskirts of town. This is the path that leads to the gallows and certain death for Baker. You feel discouraged, but determined to make one last plea

until you're distracted by something on the horizon. Looking up toward the path in front of you, you see row upon row of men on horseback carrying guns. You feel a dread in the pit of your stomach. You turn to the sheriff. What is this? Why are there so many and where did they come from? They're all mine.

I heard Baker's brothers and father were hiring 300 men from Tennessee, planning to break him out of jail, and I don't put it past them. Try and grab him while we bring him out in an hour. So I've got almost 600 men of my own between here and the hangman's noose. I'm not taking any chances. Sheriff, let me implore you one last time. As a child of God, please stop this hanging. It's just Bates' family, showing how much power they have. It's not justice. It will simply make more people miserable, and I fear the bakers will never get past this. I've already heard rumbles of vengeance

from Abner's father and kin, and you have too. This could turn into a war. Do you really want this blood on your hands? It's not my hands that have the blood, Reverend. My hands hold the badge and gun of justice. There are men from both families, much wealthier and more powerful, and each side has made its wishes known in this matter. As you have rightly noted, I am kin to the man Abner Baker murdered. But murdered he was. This killer found guilty by a jury, sentenced to death by a judge,

and now, in the name of the law, a force more powerful than any family, I, the sheriff, am taking him to the gallows. Kill List is a true story of how I ended up in a race against time to warn those whose lives were in danger. Follow Kill List wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to Kill List and more Exhibit C true crime shows like Morbid

early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus. From the team behind American History Tellers comes a new book, The Hidden History of the White House. Each chapter will bring you inside the fierce power struggles, intimate moments, and shocking scandals that shaped our nation. From the War of 1812 to Watergate. Available now wherever you get your books. From Wondery, I'm Lindsey Graham, and this is American History Tellers. Our history, your story. On our show, we'll take you to the events, the times, and the people that shaped America and Americans, our values, our struggles, and our dreams. We'll put you in the shoes of everyday citizens as history was being made, and we'll show you how the events of the times affected them, their families, and how it affects you now.

The shooting of Daniel Bates by Abner Baker was an early turning point in the longest and bloodiest feud in U.S. history. The conflict in eastern Kentucky began in the 1840s and lasted in one form or another until 1932. Known as the Clay County War, it ultimately claimed more than 150 lives. But the clash, also known as the Baker-Howard feud, was more than just a long-running grudge between families. In this two-part series, we investigate a feud that would draw in scores of family members and test the very limits of justice. It would include acts of vengeance, corruption, and murder in response to real economic pressures and political differences. This is Episode 1, The Murder of Daniel Bates. White farmers from the East Coast and the South first pushed into the Kentucky Mountains at the beginning of the 18th century. Wealthy, slave-owning families wanted to forge their own dynasties in

the West and began to exploit the vast reserves of timber and salt found in the core of Appalachia. They settled in Clay County in southern Kentucky, 70 miles southeast of Lexington, and just a stone's throw from four states, West Virginia, Virginia, North Carolina, and Tennessee. And soon the federal government stepped in with treaties and legislation, such as the Indian Removal Act of 1830, that forcibly pushed many native tribes out of the region. And as a result, there was plenty of land for the new settlers, and the early families worked together to build roads and boats to bring their product to market. But as these families had children, and then grandchildren,

the rich land became more and more scarce, and it became more and more difficult to track who owned what. There were no local banks, and most land claims and business deals were done by oral contract or by exchanging slips of paper called promissory notes, written promises to repay a debt. And there was no central institution like a county's clerk office to track these transactions either, so overlapping claims soon resulted in a fierce conflict over the land. The rise of the railroads, the onset of the Civil War, and rapidly changing technology like the telegraph only deepened these conflicts, and promissory notes and other claims began to be

used as leverage as families pushed for more control. As with many of the family feuds that followed the Clay County War, it only took one event to spark a powder keg of violence that lasted for generations. On September 13, 1844, Abner Baker Jr. snuck up on Daniel Bates as Bates was inspecting one of his salt furnaces. Saying nothing, Abner Baker calmly shot Daniel Bates just to the left of his lower spine as a few slaves looked on in disbelief. Daniel Bates was married to Baker's sister. Abner Baker had just shot his own brother-in-law. Afterwards, Baker walked back to his house and rode home. One of the slaves ran to get a supervisor, who quickly called a doctor and rounded up some other men to carry Daniel Bates to his home.

The doctor did not bother to try to remove the bullet. He knew it was hopeless. The violence was shocking, but not entirely unexpected. Over the past few months, Abner Baker had accused Bates of having an affair with Baker's wife, Susan. But over time, Baker's claims became wilder. He insisted his wife had also had relationships with servants, slaves, even members of her own family, leading some to question his sanity. But as Daniel Bates lay dying from Baker's bullet, he remained lucid. His friends and family gathered around as he made a statement.

He said that Abner Baker's accusations of adultery were unfounded and untrue. Bates said he was not having an affair with Baker's wife. And what's more, he said, the man who shot him was clearly deranged. In his final breaths, Bates announced that he was leaving $10,000 of his estate to his family on the promise that they would make sure Baker was convicted or killed. And then Daniel Bates died. It didn't take long for word to spread in this small mountain settlement that the Bates family was seeking revenge, and the news divided the community. The Bakers and their kin argued that Abner Baker Jr. was

clearly insane and therefore should be spared the death penalty. Others, like the Bateses and their supporters, argued for swift justice at the end of a hangman's noose. And meanwhile, members of another salt-making family, the Gerrards, took Abner Baker into their household, determined to protect him from retribution until everyone cooled off, and a plan was made to make sure this ill man got a fair outcome. The head of the Gerrard family was Theophilus Toolman Gerrard, otherwise known as T.T.,

and T.T.'s family had been in Clay County just as long as the Bakers and the Bateses. This feud in Tennessee involved many families, but the story of the Clay County War really involves primarily four. The Bakers and eventually the Howards were on the front line of the conflict, the ones pulling the triggers and ambushing enemies. Like the Bakers, the Howards were an early family in Clay County with a deep stake in the region's growth. But the ones calling the shots behind the scenes were the members of two other prominent families,

T.T.'s family, the Gerrards, and the Whites. The Whites and the Gerrards had come to Clay County in the late 1700s, along with a half-dozen other salt- and timber-producing families from the East and South. The Whites were Republicans from New England, where they had been businessmen, congressmen, and could even boast a Speaker of the House of Representatives. The Gerrards were Democrats, who originally came from Virginia. One of them even became Governor of Kentucky at the very beginning of the 19th century. For both families, Clay County represented their chance to build a

future away from the land that had already been claimed by British colonies, and the future for the Whites and the Gerrards rested on mining one of the area's richest resources, salt. Imagine it's 1804. You settle down next to your campfire and take a long drink of whiskey. It's been three weeks since you arrived here at Goose Creek from your home in North Carolina. You've just wrapped up another day of back-breaking, dangerous work mining salt, digging down in marshy water until you reach the briny layer, hauling buckets of brine and boiling off the water to leave the salt. And of course, you've got to chop the timber to keep the fires roaring.

Your whole body aches. There has to be a more efficient way to mine this stuff, you think. Another miner joins you at the fire, one of the dozens milling around the camp. No one uses first names out here, but he introduces himself as Howard. You sigh. I don't know about you all, but I get the feeling Daniel Boone never had to work this hard to get salt. I'm starting to think that story was all made up. Get people out here to do dirty work. Yeah, that's true. Burned myself quite badly the other day.

The furnace is not as stable as it should be. Must have burned 5,000 gallons of salt water this week, and I've only got about 150 pounds of salt to show for it. Well, that's not half bad. That'll buy you a couple of acres. You headed back home in the fall? Nah, got cousins here. Talked to one the other day. He's thrown in his lot with the other kin of mine

by the name of White, Hugh White. He's forming a saltworks about three miles from here in Manchester. Huh, saltworks, how's that? Is it safer? Well, it won't be much safer, but he's got slaves to do some of the heavy work, the digging, the water carrying. And I'm just going to make sure they operate the furnaces right. Still have to clear the land, though, and build the room for all of us to sleep on the site. Well, that sounds like a great opportunity. Get me out of the marshes.

Maybe I should, uh, well, maybe I should move my own family here and stake a claim. The man laughs, takes a sip of whiskey. Well, young man, you might want to think twice about that. Cousin Hugh is already having problems with boundary lines. He and the Gerrards have been friendly in the past, but now they seem to be in some disagreement as to where the riverbank lines were drawn. Definitely a need for sturdy workers such as yourself, but I'd wait before bringing the missus. That's disappointing. the riverbank lines were drawn. Definitely a need for sturdy workers such as yourself, but

I'd wait before bringing the missus. That's disappointing. I've got five brothers, and I'm the youngest. Nothing left for me. I was hoping I might start fresh here. Well, you can always throw your lot in with one family or the other. Both will need young men to build roads to their salt stations. But then the man named Howard leans in closer, stares at you intently. But if I were you, I'd choose which side wisely. There's a question to be answered. Who will win control of the county?

When Clay County was officially established in April of 1807, the planners made the city of Manchester the county seat. The site was situated squarely on the early Indian Trail used by Kentucky's first explorers, including Daniel Boone in the 1760s. And around this time, the Whites and the Garrods arrived in Clay County, and not far behind were the Bateses. They demanded political seats appropriate for their wealth and influence, and in 1807, the inaugural year of the county, a Bates was named Justice of the Peace. The next year, Daniel Garrett became one, and named assistant judge was Hugh White, who led the White family. He came to Clay County from Virginia in 1804. He was a loud and imposing man, drinking heavily until his 30s, when doctors begged him to stop. In 1810, Hugh was appointed a Brigadier

General of the Kentucky Militia, and from that date on, he was known as General White. That same year, he built a two-story house on Goose Creek. There, he established a salt extraction business that would earn his family the equivalent of millions of dollars in profit and the highest social standing in southeastern Kentucky. Daniel Garrard headed the Garrard family's salt empire at the same time. Garrard was the son of Kentucky's governor and, like Hugh White, served with distinction in the military, specifically the War of 1812. Garrard had dark hair and a prominent nose that drew attention away from a mouth slightly turned up on one side.

Unlike Hugh White, Daniel Garrard was quiet and spoke only when he had something to say. He founded Union Salt Works and also achieved wealth and elite status. By 1817, Clay County salt was one of Kentucky's leading exports, allowing the White and Garrett families to grow not just their wealth, but their political dynasties. Salt was king on the frontier, and with good reason. As settlers moved westward, they needed ever more salt to preserve meats and fish for long distances and to season unfamiliar foods. It was also used to cure hides, bake biscuits, and heal ailments. Salt was so valuable in Kentucky in the early 1800s that the state built its first road into

none other than Clay County expressly for the purpose of extracting it. But harvesting salt in the early 1800s took a great deal of manpower, especially on the scale practiced by the White and Garrard families. A spring pole made of wood was used to chip through underground sandstone and reach the salt brine. Taking turns, several men had to stomp on pedals to make the drill dig a well at the rate of three feet a day. A blacksmith had to be present to make sure the drill bit was kept sharp. And to siphon the briny water that was drilled, wooden pipes had to be carved and then laid from the well to a nearby furnace. It took hundreds of people to keep one salt well going, and they all had to work in close coordination.

The timing of each step was crucial. Over the first two decades of the 19th century, the families of Hugh White and Daniel Garrard dominated the salt industry. In those early days of Clay County, both the Whites and the Garrards tended to be the lawmakers, the sheriffs, the attorneys, and the magistrates. They created and filled the jobs they sought, influential positions that could help shape their vision of the county they wanted to live in. And as their businesses grew, they intermarried with two other families. The Whites joined with the Howards, and the Garrods aligned with the Bakers.

The Howards and the Bakers were also wealthy, holding positions of importance themselves, but they weren't on the same high social level as the Whites and the Garrods. And as the century wore on in a society with entrenched social classes, the Howards and the Bakers would become the followers, or some people called them the foot soldiers or henchmen in the coming feud. For a time, the whites and the Gerrards, and by extension the Howards and the Bakers, worked together. They created roads and shipping lanes, courts, and county offices that would benefit both their salt enterprises. They hired between families and purchased slaves from each other to help with the backbreaking work

around the salt mines. They built and shared boats to float their product to market, and both continued to build more furnaces and wells in the North Fork Valley of the Kentucky River. But by the 1830s, most of the timber around these major sites had been chopped down to use for fuel for the furnaces. So both families agreed that buying coal in bulk together at an agreed-upon price would benefit all of them. These first families of Clay County also spent considerable amounts of money building a courthouse, a school, and churches. They opened other new businesses that catered to their workers, selling goods in exchange for the wages provided by the salt, timber, and other businesses. And together, the Whites and the Howards, selling goods in exchange for the wages provided by the salt, timber, and other businesses.

And together, the Whites and the Howards, the Gerrards and the Bakers, and a few others, pooled their considerable financial and political resources to lobby the Kentucky legislature for a $10 million interstate canal and dam system that would have eventually linked Clay County Saltworks to the Atlantic coast. The decade seemed to be headed for more business and more growth, but then the Panic of 1837 hit, and hit hard. Banks failed, the currency collapsed, and prices soared. Farmers, merchants, and businesses across the nation suffered, and in Clay County, families that were once allies suddenly found themselves scrambling to save their fortunes. Amid mounting pressure, they were willing to go to extremeambling to save their fortunes. Amid mounting pressure,

they were willing to go to extreme methods to ensure their survival. In the Pacific Ocean, halfway between Peru and New Zealand, lies a tiny volcanic island. It's a little-known British territory called Pitcairn and it harboured a deep, dark scandal. There wouldn't be a girl on Pitcairn once they reached the age of 10 that would still have heard it.

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The fortunes of Clay County's salt families grew bigger than ever from 1834 through 1836, mirroring the prosperity of the United States. High cotton prices, easy credit, and an infusion of gold and silver from Europe contributed to a booming economy. At the same time, the federal government promoted land speculation in western states. Hundreds of state and local banks opened using printed paper money. Then, in 1836, President Andrew Jackson backed a law that forced banks to deal only in hard currency. Customers rushed to their banks to exchange their paper notes for precious metal, and the banks couldn't cover the run. Banks collapsed. Thousands upon thousands of people lost their savings, land, and homes. This banking collapse,

the Panic of 1837, triggered a five-year depression. And like elsewhere in the country, Clay County fell prey to unemployment, high food prices, and abandoned homes and businesses. Like ripples on a pond, this five-year economic depression spread throughout the commercial sectors of Clay County. Adding insult to injury, salt prices fell dramatically during this time, as other salt-producing sites across the country gained access to technology and markets, competition became cutthroat. And to counter the worst effects of the Depression and a glut on the salt market, the Garrards and the Whites started undercutting each other.

One family would lower its price by five cents a bushel. The other would cut lower by ten cents a bushel. And there was also competition over dwindling labor. In 1808, Congress had prohibited the importation of slaves into the United States. Kentucky had banned importing slaves in 1833. Slavery itself was still lawful, and many slave families had grown, but there was still not enough of them to fulfill the demand for the most back-breaking, dangerous work associated with salt mining. And as anti-slavery forces became more powerful at the state level, the whites and the Gerrards, needing the labor, sent lobbyists to defend slavery and maintain the practice.

At the same time, some smaller salt makers, looking for new income streams, began importing slaves illegally and sold them. In some cases, in an effort to hold on to their dominance, the whites and Gerrards and other top producers bought these slaves. It was a grim time, and the price cutting and competition for labor was the beginning of the breakdown between the alliance between the garrets and the whites. By the early 1840s, there was no incentive to work together for a common cause anymore. Adding to the tension and confusion was the fact that during the Depression, so many properties had changed hands without a centralized authority or proper record-keeping. This led to increased bickering and conflict over who owned what parcel of land. Some local officials tried to resolve the escalating conflicts,

but many of those in key positions were members of the Howard and Baker families. They held lower-level clerk positions, and naturally, if they were asked to interpret a land claim or a promissory note, they followed their loyalties. And in 1840, one of these disputes would lead to violent consequences. In 1839, Daniel Bates, then a 30-year-old son and husband and leader in the Bates family salt dynasty, wanted to build a dam for a gristmill and a sawmill. It was located on the creek above the property of a different sawmill that belonged to the Gerrards. He went to the county clerk's office

and put in his request. In return, the Gerrards petitioned the county court to deny it. They disputed the property boundaries and said Bates' proposed dam threatened their water supply. The court ordered the sheriff to assemble jurors at the site to judge possible damages at the site to judge possible damages to the Gerrards, but the case kept getting postponed. The sheriff and the

jurors repeatedly failed to show up. It turned out that they were afraid of taking sides in the dispute, of being seen as showing favoritism to either side. And so, with no sheriff and no jurors, the case was locked in a tense standstill. Imagine it's July, 1840. It's five o'clock in the morning and still dark outside when there's a pounding at your door. You roll out of bed and head downstairs. Open the door. It's your cousin, standing outside, panting.

What's the meaning of this, George? It's too damn early. No time to talk. Get your shirt on. Come with me. What? Not where? The sun isn't even up. Yes, now. Hurry. We're going to show the judge what he's toying with if he gives in to Daniel Bates. Come on. We're not part of either of those families. This isn't our affair. But it is. Our property is right next to the Gerrards. If that sawmill's dust clogs up the Gerrards' water, whose do you think it's going to be next? You think water knows any boundaries? Fine. Here, better take this. You feel the hard metal of a revolver. As you approach the courthouse, you're shocked and disturbed by what you see. Slaves holding guns. You've never even heard of people giving weapons to slaves.

What if they use them against their masters? But next to them is a crowd of white men, also armed. Some you recognize from the family clans. Seeing all of this makes you want to run away as fast as you can. But you're afraid of what might happen to your cousin. You have no choice but to stand there, frozen with fear. You turn to him. This is dangerous. We should go. No, we intend to show Daniel Bates and any whites with him that he cannot build on that property. This is the only way to persuade that judge that he should rule

in the right way. Just then, you see a familiar face. A swell of anger goes through the crowd. This isn't the only way, and it's certainly not the right way. This is a tinderbox. At any moment, this crowd's just... A shotgun. Someone has fired a shotgun. The crowd parts, and on the front steps of the courthouse, you see Daniel Bates drop to the ground, a pool of blood widening around his head. You were sickened and angry. Oh, do you see what we've done? This is madness.

That day, outside the courthouse in 1840, Daniel Bates was shot. No one admitted to pulling the trigger. Most people assumed it was the Whites or the Howards. Both families were in the crowd that day. But Daniel Bates did not die. He did sustain a serious wound in his neck and bled so much that people were shocked he recovered. As soon as he was well, Bates sued Daniel Gerard and various members of the Gerard family for $100,000, about $3.5 million in today's dollars. He also began to seek economic revenge against the Gerrards. The Bates family and their allies, the Whites, started calling in the promissory notes they held on the Gerrards, obligating them to repay any debts they owed. Over time,

this forced the younger, more indebted Gerrard generation to mortgage their slaves, their cattle, even some of their land, to satisfy all the smaller judgments. The violence turned what was once competition in business into economic vengeance. It was clear that these two family factions were each seeking the power to control the other. And when money isn't enough, the fight for power leads to politics. Are you in trouble with the law? Need a lawyer who will fight like hell to keep you out of jail? We defend and we fight just like you'd want your own children defended. Whether you're facing a drug charge, caught up on a murder rap, accused of committing war crimes, look no further than Paul Bergeron.

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to Scamfluencers and more Exhibit C true crime shows like Morbid and Kill List early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus. Check out Exhibit C in the Wondery app for all your true crime listening. The financial warfare waged against the Gerrards by Daniel Bates mostly hit the younger members of the Gerrards, who owed debts. Bates was interested in pulling the financial rug out from underneath the Gerrards, but he was also trying to streamline his financial affairs.

In 1844, four years after he was shot, he was almost 57 years old and wanted to make sure his two sons were properly set up to continue the family salt business. He had been married to his wife Mary for more than 20 years. Mary was the sister of Abner Baker Jr., the same man who would later murder Daniel Bates in a fit of deranged jealousy. Abner was 31 years old in 1844. He was always a bit awkward, but very bright. Abner's father was not formally educated, but he was an experienced land surveyor, well-respected, and the first clerk of Clay County.

Though the Bakers were not nearly as wealthy as the Garrards or the Whites, they were certainly comfortable and sent Abner to medical school in Lexington, where he excelled. Abner soon saw permission to wed a young member of the White family, Susan. While Susan's father thought Abner a bit peculiar, he had little problem giving Abner permission to marry his young daughter. After the wedding, Abner Baker and Susan White moved in with Abner's brother-in-law, Daniel Bates. But it did not take long for Abner Baker and Susan White moved in with Abner's brother-in-law, Daniel Bates. But it did not take long for Abner and Susan's marriage to crumble. Abner was convinced that his wife was having improper relations with nearly every male in town,

including their slaves, her own father, and brothers. He tried to blackmail Susan's father by threatening to show the townspeople notes about their guilt, and he became convinced that Daniel Bates was plotting to murder his sister, Polly, and himself. Susan White was just 14 years old and terrified. She confided in her father as soon as she was able to. Concerned, he moved his daughter home before her marriage was even three months old. He made plans to obtain a divorce on grounds of Baker's insanity, and for his part, he made plans to obtain a divorce on grounds of Baker's insanity. And for his part, Baker vowed to get a divorce on the grounds of Susan's alleged infidelity. But Baker didn't get this far.

Convinced that his landlord, Daniel Bates, was going to murder him and his sister, Polly, Abner approached Bates at his salt work on September 13th. He shot Bates in the back, left him to suffer a slow, agonizing death. He hid in the woods for a few hours, then rode his horse to the home of T.T. Garrett, who gave him food and a place to sleep. Garrett kept Abner for several days, placing guards outside his home to keep Abner safe from any of the Whites or the Bateses until things cooled off. On his deathbed, Daniel Bates declared that $10,000 should be taken from his estate to prosecute or otherwise seek a death penalty for Abner Baker Jr.

After much discussion about where the trial should take place, Baker's court date was set for the fall of 1844. Because almost every member of the community felt allegiance to one side or the other, Baker's trial was held across town at an old building instead of the courthouse in an effort to make it less of a spectacle. On Tuesday, September 24, 1844, two justices of Clay County deemed Abner Baker insane and acquitted him. One of these justices was T.T. Garrett. T.T. had recently replaced his father, Daniel, as the patriarch of the Garrett family. The fact that T.T. had cleared Abner Baker of any wrongdoing after guarding Baker at his family home

the days following the murder did not sit well with the Bateses or their allies, the Whites. Following the trial, the court released the obviously deranged Baker to the custody of his brothers, who were doctors from Knoxville. They gave their brothers some medicine and debated whether he should be committed to the Kentucky Lunatic Asylum. Finally, they decided it would be best to send him to Cuba for a better climate and a change of scenery,

a common arrangement for wealthy Americans in the 19th century. But soon, Abner Baker's fate would once again send him back into harm's way and push the blood feud into a crisis of justice. Imagine it's mid-afternoon, 1845, in Frankfort, Kentucky. The new governor has granted you permission to meet with him at his mansion because of the special circumstance of your case, and also because it's away from the noise and crowds of the state legislature.

You tie up your horse, take a deep breath, and approach the estate. A man wearing a uniform and shiny boots answers the door. Good day. I'm here to see Governor Owsley. This is unusual. The governor won't be available for another hour or so. Please come in and give me some background so I can properly address it with his honor. He ushers you into a vast hallway. This is of major importance. I come from Clay County. Ah, yes, I've already received letters about this for the governor. Quite a fracas you have going on down there. Yes, quite, sir. I'm here on behalf of friends of Daniel Bates,

who was recently murdered in the most, well, in the most cowardly way, by one of an equally cowardly family, Mr. Abner Baker. Sir, I'm afraid you've made this journey for nothing. I don't doubt your affection for your townsman, but the governor doesn't like to get involved in such local problems. He'll be polite if forced to, but surely you can understand, he's got many more important problems. Well, I won't waste too much of your time, but I'd be remiss if I did not make myself very, very clear. Baker is a fugitive from

justice. He is off sunning himself in Havana while the family of poor Daniel Bates agonizes over his death. And this is what I've come to tell the governor. The whites do not intend to continue their support of a governor who does not support them back. I see. I will relay that to the governor. The aide shows you to the door, but from his changed expression, you can tell your message got through. As your carriage leaves the well-manicured grounds, you see several carriages racing towards you from the other direction. As they pass by, you're astonished to see some familiar faces, but it makes sense. Abner Baker's friends and family are going to deliver their own demands to Governor Owsley. They will no doubt insist that the governor offer Baker safe passage to a new city when he returns from Cuba. The visits to the governor mansion had an effect, and the governor took a side.

As Cuban doctors treated Abner with soaks in the warm ocean water and cups of sugared coffee, the governor of Kentucky announced a $1,000 reward to anyone who returned him to the Clay County Jail. Confident that a fair trial would establish Baker's insanity again, Abner's brothers took a risk and returned him to Kentucky. The Gerrids immediately sheltered Baker once again and kept the whites and their followers from carrying out vigilante justice against him. On July 7, 1845, a new lengthy trial was held in Manchester with a judge from another district presiding and illustrious expensive lawyers for both plaintiff and defendant. Abner was again found guilty. This time, though, Abner's insanity did not spare him. He was condemned to die. On October 3rd, 1845, despite a

last-minute plea from a local minister, Abner's sentence was carried out. Deputies let his corpse hang for 50 minutes. While the Abner-Baker trial and execution caused a deepening rift between the prominent Clay County families, it was the final straw in several years' worth of economic rivalry. Clay County's wealthy families were so preoccupied with internal feuds that they had failed to confront growing threats coming from outside the community. America's economy and markets were changing, and the leaders of Clay County, isolated in the foothills of the Cumberland Mountains, were consumed with a vengeance rather than building more sophisticated legal

and monetary systems that could thrive in the new economy. A new generation of family leaders was now in charge, too. James White, T.T. Garrett, and their extended families. And in the years leading up to the Civil War, as salt prices continued to fluctuate, the bad blood between the Garrett-Baker faction and the White-Howard clan only increased. The leading families of Clay County fought over every piece of viable property, and soon the federal government would widen the divide between these warring families, adding a whole new layer of bitterness, distrust, and bodies. Next on American History Tellers,

the blood feud in Kentucky intensifies as the Civil War destroys the salt mines and the livelihood for many in Clay County. Violence consumes a third generation in the conflict, drawing headlines across the conflict, drawing headlines across the county, making clear that not even the state of Kentucky can do anything to quell the violence. From Wondery, in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Prime members can listen ad-free on Amazon Music. And before you go, tell us about yourself by filling out a short survey at wondery.com slash survey.

American History Tellers is hosted, edited, and produced by me, Lindsey Graham, for Airship. Sound design by Derek Behrens. This episode is written by Julia Bricklin. Edited by Dorian Marina. Our executive producers are Jenny Lauer Beckman and Marshall Louis. Created by Hernán López for Wondery. I'm Tristan Redman, and as a journalist, I've never believed in ghosts. But when I discovered that my wife's great-grandmother was murdered in the house next door to where I grew up,

I started wondering about the inexplicable things that happened in my childhood bedroom. When I tried to find out more, I discovered that someone who slept in my room after me, someone I'd never met, was visited by the ghost of a faceless woman. So I started digging into the murder in my wife's family, and I unearthed family secrets nobody could have imagined. Ghost Story won Best Documentary Podcast at the 2024 Ambies and is a Best True Crime nominee at the British Podcast Awards 2024. Ghost Story is now the first ever Apple Podcast series essential.

Each month, Apple Podcast editors spotlight one series that has captivated listeners with masterful storytelling, creative excellence, and a unique creative voice and vision. To recognize Ghost Story being chosen as the first series essential, Wondery has made it ad-free for a limited time only on Apple Podcasts. If you haven't listened yet, head over to Apple Podcasts to hear for yourself.