Bar fight

“If walls could talk,” stated the tour guide to the group of 20 or so tourists about the Sandbar saloon that still stood from the early 1900’s. She quickly proceeded to point out the drawings and talking of ghosts that haunted the Mississippi River bar.

Daniel and his wife Rita had come down on the river cruise ship and this tour outside of Natchez sounded fun. The group would stop in and drink at the old bars and talk about the history and the ghosts. Daniel liked the idea of relaxing and drinking, but Rita was excited to hear the ghost stories. She had always told her friends that her grandmother had the gift to talk to the dead and she had always hoped she would gain that ability.

The tour guide began droning on about the duel and brawl of 1907 when 12 men were killed dead in the bar over a gambling disagreement.

Daniel had pulled up a stool at the bar and Rita was leaning on another and looking at the photos and drawings. Rita distinctly heard “That is not all what happened. I hate these docents.” She peered around the room trying to see who had hollered it out because the guide never stopped talking or changed her tune and continued to describe the shooting and stabbing from more than 100 years ago.

“They don’t even get the date right,” the voice rang into Rita’s ear.

Rita looked around and seemed to ask the air “What did you say?”

The tour guide looked at Rita and repeated, “The mayor’s brother struck the Colonel with his bowie knife.”

Rita heard the voice again and she pinpointed it coming from the wall.

“Jim did not have a damn Bowie knife. Everyone knows that. He used a broken confederate sword.”

Rita stared at the wall kind of blankly and her husband asked, “I thought you were all into these ghost stories?”

“I am. I tell you the walls are talking about that brawl right now,” said Rita.

Her husband laughed and took a drink. “I think you need another drink.”

The tour guide wrapped up her spill exclaiming, “12 men died near this spot that day. Y’all enjoy your drinks.”

“Not even half that many died that day,” said the voice from the wall.

Rita gulped and looked at the wall and in a quiet voice said, “Why don’t you tell me what really happened?”

“You can hear me?” asked the voice.

Rita gave a full nod. Rita hailed the bartender and got another drink for her and her husband and pulled him to a table near the wall.

“I’m going to repeat the story word for word from this wall or ghost,” she said to her husband.

The wall began to layout the real story:

It was the week after the 4th of July in 1907. Col. James Buffett was gambling at the table with Tom Mattox (the Mayor’s brother), Norris Bright, Richard Coney, Hub Cain, and Alfred Branch. Drinking at the bar who would join in the raucous were Sam Wells, Captain J. Crain, Ben Mattox (the Mayor), Denny Edwards (son of Ben Edwards, a former slave), Jeff Wells, and Jim Worth.

Tom Mattox was winning at cards, which was unusual. Col. Buffet considered himself a “charmed poker player” and, when Tom showed three queens, to claim another pot. Col. Buffet rose from his seat and exclaimed, “either you are a cheat or your wife is whoring for lady luck.”

Tom Mattox jumped to his feet and pulled out a blade. “Your words are challenging me sir and you will apologize or die.”

“You dare don a blade upon me?” Col. Buffet hollered while placing his hand on his pistol. “I killed many a Spanish in San Juan who were better men than you, sir.”

“I challenge you,” said Tom Mattox. Col. Buffett answered quickly, “I will duel you any day.”

A shot rang out at that moment, barely missing Buffet. Unknown to most, Denny Edwards had a beef with Col. Buffet who had been pushing hard on the black landowners to leave. With his firing of the gun and missing, Col. Buffett failed to understand where the shot came from and pulled his pistol and fired upon Tom Mattox. The bullet went across Tom’s chest and he grabbed a broken Confederate sword from this very wall and smashed it across Col. Buffett’s neck with blood spattering out and onto the wall. If you could peel back some of this sheetrock and clay you could see the blood stains.

Capt. J. Crain, who served with the Col. In the Spanish American War, pulled a pistol and aimed for Tom when Ben Mattox grabbed the captain’s arm and tried to wrestle the gun from him and it fired and hit Jim Worth in the back of the neck, which killed him dead. Sam Wells, seeing this, pulled his knife and stabbed the Captain four times before Jeff Wells and Alfred Branch could pull him off.

Norris Bright and Richard Coney pulled pistols and were about to shoot Tom Mattox and take all the money back, but before they could fire, Hub Cain hit one with a chair and the other with liquor bottle. The bottle broke, cutting Coney in the face and neck. He died the next day from it. Norris Bright jumped back up and was going to shoot Hub Cain when Denny Edwards fired a shot and killed Norris Bright.

The Sheriff arrived the next day and the Mayor and others all testified that each man was killed in self-defense and that Col. Buffett had started the brawl and was the first to die in the matter.

The Sheriff only said, “Whiskey almost always excites those types of men to riot, robbery and bloodshed.”

And that is the real story of the Sandbar Saloon. It wasn’t any of this dozen men facing off against each other. You had a couple of sore losers and bad apples who got their due. The Cain and Edwards families are still friends and neighbors. It was Hub’s son not 20 years later who shot three men right in this room that were trying to lynch Denny’s son, but that is a story for another day.

Rita was enthralled. “Well, tell me more,” she said.