The First Attempt 

By Silence Dogood

One hates to be morose this time of year, but when inspiration strikes, seasons be damned. Last week, we spoke about how dangerous it actually is to become President of the United States. Whether by accident or intent, the fact of the matter is that presidents are more prone to find themselves in mortal danger than most. Along those same lines, this week we’ll take a closer look at another one of those “almosts,” this time surrounding the seventh president: Andrew Jackson.

In 1835, Andrew Jackson was midway through his second term in office. He had been a dominant figure on the national political scene for over a decade, dating back to the election of 1824, in which John Quincy Adams emerged victorious over Jackson only after a decision by the House of Representatives—a decision that Jackson would later dub the “corrupt bargain” between Adams and Speaker of the House Henry Clay.

When victory was finally his in 1828, Jackson hit the ground running. Throughout his two terms in the White House, he transformed the office of the presidency into something more powerful than it had ever been before.

Jackson came into office as something of a political outsider. Voters saw him as a common man—the “People’s President.” He was a major proponent of the “spoils system,” in which loyal supporters were rewarded with government jobs. He stared down what could be seen as a foreshadowing of the Civil War during the Nullification Crisis, when South Carolina attempted to invalidate federal tariffs—putting him at odds with his own vice president, John C. Calhoun. He waged a successful war against the Second Bank of the United States (a very likely topic for a future “This American Experiment” column). And his presidency marked the beginning of the nation’s formal policy of Indian removal, just to name a few of his administration’s major endeavors. There is little wonder why his political enemies and detractors dubbed him “King Andrew.”

And all of that—his presidency, his legacy—could have changed in an instant.

On a cold, damp Friday, January 30, 1835, Andrew Jackson was attending a funeral at the U.S. Capitol for South Carolina Congressman Warren R. Davis.

As Jackson left the Capitol and began making his way back to the White House, a would-be assassin stepped forward from the crowd. He raised a pistol and fired at Jackson’s back—click—the gun misfired. Undeterred, the attacker pulled out a second pistol and fired again—click—unfathomably, the second weapon misfired as well.

Even at 67 years old, Andrew Jackson was still no one to be trifled with. His entire life, Jackson had known combat. As a boy during the Revolutionary War, he was captured by the British. When Jackson refused to shine the boots of a British officer, the officer struck him with his sword, leaving scars on his hand and head that Jackson would proudly display for the rest of his life. This was the same man who would go on to become the famed general of the War of 1812, victor at the Battle of New Orleans, a leader in the Creek War, and a central figure in the First Seminole War.

So it should come as no surprise that, upon realizing this mysterious man was trying to kill him, Jackson immediately charged his attacker and began beating him with his cane.

Having just come from a state funeral, there were many dignitaries present, and those nearby quickly jumped in to separate the two men. Among them were future president Martin Van Buren and Tennessee Congressman Davy Crockett.

When the dust settled, Andrew Jackson was unharmed, and the assailant was in custody.

So who was this man who had come so close to changing the course of history? Who was the first known person to attempt the assassination of a President of the United States? With the target being the most dominant political force in the country, one might assume a political enemy or rival.

The man was identified as Richard Lawrence, a British-born American and unemployed house painter.

Richard Lawrence was, simply put, insane. By the early 1830s, he had quit his job and was clearly suffering from severe mental illness. He developed a delusion that he was, in fact, King Richard III of England. One of the more obvious problems with this claim was that Richard III had been dead for roughly 350 years.

Lawrence fully believed this fantasy. He had convinced himself that the United States government owed him, the king of England, a large sum of money. When that payment failed to arrive, he blamed Andrew Jackson. He began to tie this delusion to Jackson’s war against the Second Bank of the United States. In Lawrence’s mind, removing Jackson from power may have cleared the way for the government to finally pay its “debt.”

Richard Lawrence was put on trial for the attempted murder. Francis Scott Key, author of the “Star Spangled Banner,” served as the prosecuting attorney in the case. Lawrence continued to behave erratically throughout the proceedings, frequently interrupting and denouncing the court. After only five minutes of deliberation, the jury returned a verdict of “not guilty by reason of insanity.” He was committed to an asylum, where he would spend the rest of his life, dying in June 1861.

As we have come to learn from later events, incidents like this often invite conspiracy theories. Even Jackson himself believed that someone else must have been behind Lawrence’s actions. Former vice president, and now senator, John C. Calhoun was forced to deny any involvement in a speech he gave on the floor of the Senate. Jackson also cast suspicion on Senator George Poindexter of Mississippi after it came to light that Lawrence had done painting work at his home months earlier. All that said, no evidence was ever uncovered implicating anyone beyond Lawrence himself.

This marked the first known attempt to assassinate a President of the United States. As would be the case for decades to come, there was little in the way of day-to-day protection for the president. The United States Secret Service would not be created for another 30 years and would not take on a presidential protection role until later still. It is, in many ways, remarkable that the country did not see more incidents like this.

Whether it was luck or divine intervention, Andrew Jackson escaped the clutches of death that damp January day. He would go on to finish his term in 1837 and be succeeded by his vice president, Martin Van Buren. Even in retirement, Jackson remained an influential force in both Tennessee and national politics.

Although it all came so close to turning out differently, for better or worse, Andrew Jackson left an indelible mark—transforming the presidency and helping shape this American experiment.