Kentucky Gov. William Goebel, who fell to an assassin’s bullet in 1900, was known for his shrewdness and political savvy. Described as one of “the brightest men in the State” in The Hickman Courier (Fulton County), Goebel rose to the top of Bluegrass State politics, an amazing accomplishment considering he had killed a man in Covington five years before becoming governor. The episode is even more astonishing because Goebel shot his antagonist while standing next to the state’s attorney general.
Born in Pennsylvania on Jan. 4, 1856, Goebel was the son of German immigrants who moved to Covington after the Civil War. After being educated locally, Goebel became an attorney and a Kentucky state senator and served as a member of the state’s 1890 constitutional convention. Despite being socially awkward, he was a whip-smart and decisive politician who was not above making enemies.
• • •
On April 11, 1895, Goebel and Kentucky’s attorney general, William Hendrick, walked toward the First National Bank in Covington. The bank’s cashier, John Sanford, met them at the door. Goebel and Sanford had been feuding for years. In addition to being bitter rivals in the Democratic Party, Goebel had pushed policies that hurt Sanford’s business interests. Sanford was an investor and president of the Covington and Lexington Turnpike Company, and Goebel had sponsored legislation that slashed turnpike toll rates. One newspaper reported that this cut the revenue of the Covington-Lexington Turnpike nearly in half.
Most recently, Sanford was furious about a letter published in the Covington Ledger that “referred to Sanford in the most depraved language.” It was rumored that Goebel had written the article, in which the author called Sanford “Gonorrhea John.” When Sanford saw Goebel walking toward the bank, he confronted the politician.
Using his left hand, Sanford shook hands with Hendrick. He then asked Goebel if he had written the letter. “I did,” Goebel responded.
With his right hand, Sanford drew a revolver and fired, ignoring the fact that the state’s highest legal officer stood just steps away. The bullet tore through Goebel’s clothing but missed his flesh. Goebel pulled his own pistol and shot Sanford above the left eye. The banker immediately fell, his blood splattering the doorframe. The men had been standing so close to customers that the gunpowder from Goebel’s pistol burned the chin of a bystander. Sanford died shortly thereafter.
“He was lying in wait for me,” Goebel said. “I saw him when I reached the gas office, about 20 feet away from the steps of the First National Bank … As soon as I saw him reach for his revolver, I reached for mine.”
Goebel immediately turned himself in to authorities. Later tried for manslaughter, he was acquitted by reason of self-defense. At least one Kentucky newspaper, the Earlington Bee, recognized the folly of the episode. “Such as the Goebel-Sanford killing at Covington last week does no credit to Kentucky and to Kentucky manhood,” the paper wrote. “Here is an example of where each of the two men in violation of the laws of the Commonwealth, carried a pistol concealed about their person. Both men, too, were looked upon as honorable, upright citizens. This act, alone, throws a true light upon affairs. One dies as the other intended he should—the other, more fortunate, lives with the blood-stain of his fellow-man upon him.”
This, of course, was not enough to deny Goebel the governorship five years later. Other newspapers simply reported, “The meeting to-day showed both were well armed.”
• • •
As I note in my book, Anatomy of a Duel: Secession, Civil War, and the Evolution of Kentucky Violence, for decades after the Civil War, impromptu street fights between white male Kentuckians of means who carried concealed weapons made newspaper headlines. These killings were so common that, after Goebel killed Sanford, the Harrodsburg Democrat complained that both men “were controlled by … that strange and overmastering lust for human blood, that brings the state of Kentucky daily into disgrace, and that threatens to destroy the happiness and security of citizenship here. It is an appalling fact that murder is growing to be one of the minor crimes in Kentucky … it is accompanied with less danger of punishment than theft and arson.”
Instead of finding disgrace, Goebel became governor. His term, however, was brief. After a bitterly contested race, an assassin shot and killed Goebel on Jan. 30, 1900, as he walked toward what is now the Old State Capitol in Frankfort. Goebel’s supporters eventually erected two statues in his honor—one at his grave in the Frankfort Cemetery and another that now stands on the lawn of the Old State Capitol, mere yards from where he was slain. No monument honors John Sanford.