Hazards of History Writing
Woman in the Middle | January 24, 2014As I have mentioned before, I do quite a bit of writing on local history. I just love to dig into the research for a story. I look into the main character’s lives in census records. I dig through old newspapers looking for bits and pieces for my story. I can (and sometimes do) spend hours a day doing research. Pure bliss!
When I am poking around, often the same names pop up over and over again, particularly the names of government officials, judges, and law enforcement officers. They become like old acquaintances. Sometimes their names pop up over the course of years and I can follow their career from local lawyer to judge, for example, or from city police officer to deputy police chief. One such man was John Baird. He was a constable (police officer) in the big city next door. Back then it wasn’t unusual for Baird, the city constable, to accompany a sheriff’s deputy out into the country side to investigate a crime, even though is was outside his jurisdiction, an early form of mutual aid, I suppose. Since I have done quite a bit of research on stories in my area just outside the city, I ran across Baird’s name numerous times and he became one of those old history acquaintances. I begin to feel like I know people like John Baird personally, even though they lived long ago.
Then, one day, I run into a story about my historical acquaintance. Maybe they got in trouble, or maybe something bad happened, like it did to John Baird. It is such a shock! It is almost like I am being told about a person I really know, in 2014.
So I am sure you are wondering what happened to John Baird. Well, he moved to this area in 1904. By 1912 he had become th deputy police chief. Good for him! Towards the end of 1912 the police chief fell il and passed away and Baird was made Acting Police Chief. On the night of December 15th, he called one of the police officers into a back room at the police station and got on him about drinking on the job. The officer pulled out his gun and shot Baird to death, right there in the police station. He was 33 years old.
And that is the true hazard of history writing, folks. People do bad things. People die. And even though it happened so long ago, I still feel sad!
Thanks so much for sharing this. I was shocked at the ending too – and sad. You make me want to begin researching too….. to get to know people like that from times gone by.
It is so much fun, even if sometimes I find something a little sad….
Wow! And we think the criminals of today are bad.