On May 7, 1873, Louisiana Gov. William Pitt Kellogg made his way to his carriage following a meeting in New Orleans, when a man named Charles R. Railey confronted him.
“I wanted to tell you that you were a cowardly and usurping scoundrel and that if you have any courage you will stand like a man and I will treat you as the scoundrel you have shown yourself to be,” Railey told Kellogg, who replied somewhat huffily, “I am not acquainted with you, and I don’t know that I have done anything to offend you, sir.”
As Kellogg’s carriage rounded the corner one shot rang out. He raised his hand to his neck as his driver raced them away, and though early reports said Kellogg had been shot in his neck and gravely wounded, it turned out that the bullet had just missed him. He later explained, “I heard a shot and simultaneously felt the passage of a shot by my neck.”
It’s one of the many often forgotten events in US history that I learned about while working on an upcoming book “America’s Deadliest Election, A Cautionary Tale of the Most Violent Election in American History,” with my coauthor David Fisher.
Since the attempted assassination of former President Donald Trump, many have rightly pointed to the sad, bloody history of violence against American political leaders – the murders of Presidents Abraham Lincoln, James A. Garfield, William McKinley and John F. Kennedy, and the attempted assassinations of Presidents Theodore Roosevelt, Harry S. Truman, Ronald Reagan and Gerald Ford. But what happened in Louisiana between 1872 and 1877 should stand as a warning about the way that violence can disrupt the American electoral process.
By 1873, Kellogg was embroiled in an unprecedented standoff because of a bitterly contested election. He was a Republican who backed Reconstructionist policies to help integrate newly freed Black Americans. He claimed that he had won the 1872 gubernatorial contest. But Democrat John D. McEnery, whose campaign was rooted in White nationalism, also claimed to have won.
For months following, Kellogg and McEnery each claimed to be Louisiana governor, having both been sworn in, and dueling legislatures worked simultaneously, each claiming it was duly elected and therefore in charge of passing laws and going about the state’s business.
McEnery’s supporters took to the streets and after raucous chants of “Hang him! Hang him!” they tried to overthrow the legally recognized legislature.
What prompted this bedlam was election results that were impossible to properly count. The reason? The Civil War was over, and Black men were legally allowed to vote and helped Republicans win in 1870.
Two years later, Louisiana Democrats were determined to take back the state by preventing Black men from voting through intimidation and voter suppression. Republicans provided affidavits from Blacks who were not able to vote.
What ensued wasn’t just political strife, but deadly violence. Less than a month before the assassination attempt on Kellogg was the infamous Colfax massacre, where Black men in favor of the Reconstruction policies giving them new rights occupied the Colfax courthouse in Grant Parish, Louisiana.
On Easter Sunday morning, White supremacists stormed the building and went on a killing spree, brutally murdering some 150 Black men.
As for the gubernatorial election dispute in 1872, it happened again in 1876. As did another assassination attempt.
Republicans claimed that their candidate, Stephen Packard, won. Democrats said Francis T. Nicholls was victorious. In January, two months after the election, once again both men were sworn into the role. Nicholls had the backing of The White League, which formed a militia to take control of the state government. They almost succeeded until Packard secured federal assistance from President Ulysses S. Grant.
It was against that tense, violent backdrop that a neatly dressed, handsome young man later identified as William Weldon went to Packard’s office and presented a card identifying himself as Frank Hudson, correspondent for the Philadelphia Press, and was admitted. Weldon took a seat several feet behind the governor. After patiently waiting a few minutes, he pulled a revolver and said loudly, “Governor, how long do I have to wait to see you?” Packard turned and saw the muzzle pointed directly at his head. He responded instantly. In one swift movement he pushed the gun away with his left hand and slugged the would-be assassin with his right.
In the melee several men drew their pistols. Police Superintendent W. F. Loan fired one shot at the assailant, and Packard reportedly stepped in front of Weldon, saving his life. Then the governor was hustled out of the room to a safer, upper floor. Packard was fortunate: Weldon’s bullet had barely grazed his right leg. Weldon, equally lucky, survived Loan’s shot to his left arm without serious damage.
Packard survived but ultimately, his time as governor did not.
America’s story is complicated, especially when it comes to passions about our leaders and what and whom they represent. And while violence should never be the answer, it has occurred more than any of us would want to admit. Back then, violence and political strife were so intertwined and lasted so long that leaders in Washington finally agreed to a compromise that allowed for racist Jim Crow laws to take over in the South. That lasted for nearly a century.
In 2024, we like to hope we are a more evolved society. Perhaps by remembering history, we can ensure a better future.
