This is the grave of EDWARD W. HAWKINS, the first legally hanged man in Estill County, Kentucky, my old home place; that's me kneeling beside the grave after having fulfilled my promise to him. You can easily find Edward W. Hawkins on the internet: "ED HAWKINS OUTLAW; THE CONFESSION OF ED HAWKINS." Ed was reputed to be the most handsome man that ever lived. But no person ever actually described him. That put me to thinking, who is the most handsome man that ever lived? I must have pondered on it for over a year. Then one night as I lay awake it hit me: ELVIS PRESLEY!!! I spent almost 30 years researching and recreating Ed's dark and colorful life in my novel, NEFARIOUS; I feel he and I are kindred souls.Over thirty years ago when I found his unmarked grave (an old dying persimmon tree) I promised him that I would write his story. Every writer owns one special story that was meant for him and Ed's story was mine. I'm confident he would love my novel filled with illustrations done by my friends. Ed evolves to be my main character; a man filled with curiosity and dark humor. Of note, I thought it was peculiarly haunting when I noted the tree that's now grown up beside his grave---look at that naturally formed evil looking face right smack in the middle of that tree!
Blessings.
Blessings.
|
NO SWEAT and his family at Edward Hawkins' grave. NS spent a large portion of his life researching this outlaw from his home county. Ed is the main character in NO SWEAT'S second novel, NEFARIOUS. Originally Ed was buried in an unmarked grave because he was such a devil and his family was ashamed of him. Many years later the Estll County Historical Society erected this grave near where Ed was actually buried. 
|
|
ED HAWKINS
by
E. Lowell "Robbie" / "No Sweat" Robbins, Jr.
When I first decided to become a novelist I spent almost five years writing a book called THESE PRECIOUS DAYS. It took me thirty one years before that work was finally accepted by a publisher, Rudy Thomas, OLD SEVENTY CREEK PRESS. Today you can readily find that novel at any place that sells books. I well remember my very first rejection with that novel because it came from Robert Loomis; he was the Executive Editor and Vice President of Random House; I had only been fortunate enough to get this man to read my novel because of my relationship with Guy Davenport; Guy was a good friend of mine that loved my writings. He was also a Rhodes Scholar having once roomed with Robert Loomis while they were attending Duke. Because Guy said the novel was good and because I had poured my heart out in creating the work I was almost certain that Robert Loomis would surely accept my book and that I would become the next young Scott Fitzgerald.
I waited patiently for nearly a month to get a letter back from Mr. Loomis and then one day I watched as the mailman delivered my large manuscript. I met the mailman when he came and when I took the package back and opened the accompanying letter, I cried. Mr. Loom is said that I was a talented writer but Random House simply could not make an offer on THESE PRECIOUS DAYS; he stated that he didn't believe there was enough of a market for the work and that was the bottom line.
I felt like dying. I loved writing. I had always loved writing. I had given my life to that book. If nobody wanted it then I was lost. For the next several days I resigned never to write another word. I said to myself that I would forget being an author and that I would try to be just like everyone else and that I would forget ever having such a foolish dream.
And then about a week later my brother in law, Tim Hall, was eating supper with Chesteen, my wife, and I. He said, "Robbie, I have a story I want you to read. I believe you could write a novel out of it." He then handed me some booklet that I paid little attention to; something about THE CONFESSION OF ED HAWKINS; I glanced at it and placed it aside; Tim simply had no idea how much work I had put into my novel and how painful it had been for me to see it rejected.
The next day when I was alone I saw the little booklet and began reading it. There was something different and rather honest about the work that lured me further into it; and before I knew it I had read the whole thing. The next day I read it again. And after a week or so the words inside it began to more than to intrigue me. But I had no real direction to go to write a story based on the confession except for the confession itself. And I didn't want to use this actual confession in something that I would write. As I began to study the work I saw that many people in Estill County had copied the confession word for word and had attributed their names to it as the author. I felt rather sorry for all those pitiful-great authors as they were not authors at all but people who had no imaginations; All they had done was plagiarize the work in one fashion or another. The confession had attracted them enough that they wanted to be associated with it; each of the poor blokes were even willing to lie and say that they had somehow written it; some even boasting to the that fact.
Little by little I fell under the spell of the confession. I began to study everything about it. I began to actually research every mention within it as to whether it was about some person or place. I was fortunate in this as for all my life I had lived in Estill County and for the most part the subject matter of the confession all took place within the county; being an avid history student I was naturally interested in the story about the first man legally hanged in my home county..
And then the day came when I decided to go find Ed Hawkins' grave. This was a long time before the Estill County Historical Society had finally gone out to his grave site and placed a headstone. And on that matter, I am not so sure they placed it at the right spot. But on that day that I went to find Ed's grave I drove out to one end of Estill County where I located an old man that was whittling on a cedar stick in front of a porch connected to a country grocery store. I asked him if he knew where the old Hawkins' cabin might have been. He stopped whittling and said, "Son, you are lucky that you happened to have found me. I am one hundred years old. I am probably the only man alive that does know where the old Hawkins cabin used to be. I used to play around it when I was a boy. It had large chimneys at each end of it. But it's all gone, now. Even the chimneys have been stolen."
The man directed me down a road explaining where I had to make a few turns and that afternoon I found myself exploring a small hollow and some open fields towards Clark County near Red River. I then went to a hillside made of shale where the Hawkins graveyard remained. There were only a few headstones left but I knew that I was in the right place as I saw one of Ed's sister's graves, her name was Sarah. But there was one thing that spellbound me when I got there--the biggest and oldest persimmon tree that I had ever seen in my life; it was a dark giant and all but dead as its branches were dried out and many of the bare limbs were broken off or ready to break. I placed my hands on the bark of the tree and when I did I had the strangest sensation...Somehow I felt as though I were touching Ed Hawkins. That tree had been hanging on and waiting all those years for me to come to it. I leaned up against it and looked up at the sky as something queer was going on and then I saw it; a turkey buzzard circling so low and slow over my head that I thought I could almost touch it.
You see, in that confession of Ed Hawkins his brother said that when Ed was hanged and then brought back home to be buried that the family decided not to put a tombstone on his grave; that Ed had shamed the family so badly having killed the sheriff and deputy of Estill County that they didn't want anyone to ever know where he was buried. But his brother said in a letter later on that he always knew where Ed was buried because after he he had been buried the next year a small persimmon tree appeared over his grave. And every year that persimmon tree continued to grow. And it had grown all those years finally having me come to it.
That was twenty six years ago. I went to that same grave site this past winter. Now there is a head marker there on that same shale bank. I know it is in the wrong place because it is no place near where that giant persimmon tree once stood. Now that tombstone is just sitting there on the shale bank and more of a marker and memorial than being at an accurate grave spot. But you know, the one thing I noticed when I was there this last time, was all the young persimmon trees; there must have been hundreds of them all around throughout the area near the graves; that old tree that is now long gone sure dispersed a lot of life before it left this earth.
When I stood there those many years ago first touching that tree I promised Ed and myself that I would do his story, That I would make him come back alive. And this time, I would have everyone love him. I studied the confession more than anyone could ever dream as I worked with it for twenty six years. It eventually became quite obvious to me that Ed himself probably never wrote a single word of it. And that it really never was any actual confession. What I could see was that the story had been written by someone very educated; the kind of Education that Ed certainly never had. Obviously, someone having known Ed took plenty of time to organize many things that Ed may have said to them; and things that might have happened elsewhere; This person was more than likely the newspaper editor of Estill County at the time of Ed's trial and hanging. Around the turn of the century this so-called confession of Ed's first appeared in a small booklet form as it was then published by the local newspaper; there were claims that all one thousand copies of it sold out in one day but I doubt that as well. The confession soon became so popular that people in Estill County such as Asa Martin were making songs from it and recopying it so much that in time everything became FACT. Nobody paused to consider its origin and the actual content it owned. Supposedly, Ed was offered some new clothes to be hanged in if he told his story. Just who he told that story to remains still remains a mystery. But I am still guessing that it was the newspaper editor; Ed's story and hanging was the biggest event in Estill County's history, if not still so; some 10,000 people reportedly came to see the event; it was not something that a newsman would have let get away.
But all that stuff really doesn't much matter as people will believe what they want to believe and it is just as well. Over the years Ed has grown into legend. He is Estill County's Robin Hood and Jesse James all in one. Just about everyone in Estill County has heard of him or something about him. When I left his grave this last time there was a stranger that met me when I got into my car. I told him where I had been and asked if he knew anything about Ed Hawkins. "Sure do," he replied. "That man was the devil," he assured. "He took two babies and slung them off the Irvine Bridge. And as they was flying through the air he laughed out loud all the way until they smacked the ground!"
"I never heard that before," I said.
"It's a fact," he told me. And then I drove away.
I never bothered mentioning to the stranger that there was no Irvine Bridge when Ed was alive between 1836-1837. Why would I? Ed is legend.
And now, after more than twenty-six years of laboring on a book I call NEFARIOUS, I wait like a child at Christmas to see my second novel released across America on November 15, 2012 by ITOH PRESS. And when it does, my old promise to Ed will have been met.
by
E. Lowell "Robbie" / "No Sweat" Robbins, Jr.
When I first decided to become a novelist I spent almost five years writing a book called THESE PRECIOUS DAYS. It took me thirty one years before that work was finally accepted by a publisher, Rudy Thomas, OLD SEVENTY CREEK PRESS. Today you can readily find that novel at any place that sells books. I well remember my very first rejection with that novel because it came from Robert Loomis; he was the Executive Editor and Vice President of Random House; I had only been fortunate enough to get this man to read my novel because of my relationship with Guy Davenport; Guy was a good friend of mine that loved my writings. He was also a Rhodes Scholar having once roomed with Robert Loomis while they were attending Duke. Because Guy said the novel was good and because I had poured my heart out in creating the work I was almost certain that Robert Loomis would surely accept my book and that I would become the next young Scott Fitzgerald.
I waited patiently for nearly a month to get a letter back from Mr. Loomis and then one day I watched as the mailman delivered my large manuscript. I met the mailman when he came and when I took the package back and opened the accompanying letter, I cried. Mr. Loom is said that I was a talented writer but Random House simply could not make an offer on THESE PRECIOUS DAYS; he stated that he didn't believe there was enough of a market for the work and that was the bottom line.
I felt like dying. I loved writing. I had always loved writing. I had given my life to that book. If nobody wanted it then I was lost. For the next several days I resigned never to write another word. I said to myself that I would forget being an author and that I would try to be just like everyone else and that I would forget ever having such a foolish dream.
And then about a week later my brother in law, Tim Hall, was eating supper with Chesteen, my wife, and I. He said, "Robbie, I have a story I want you to read. I believe you could write a novel out of it." He then handed me some booklet that I paid little attention to; something about THE CONFESSION OF ED HAWKINS; I glanced at it and placed it aside; Tim simply had no idea how much work I had put into my novel and how painful it had been for me to see it rejected.
The next day when I was alone I saw the little booklet and began reading it. There was something different and rather honest about the work that lured me further into it; and before I knew it I had read the whole thing. The next day I read it again. And after a week or so the words inside it began to more than to intrigue me. But I had no real direction to go to write a story based on the confession except for the confession itself. And I didn't want to use this actual confession in something that I would write. As I began to study the work I saw that many people in Estill County had copied the confession word for word and had attributed their names to it as the author. I felt rather sorry for all those pitiful-great authors as they were not authors at all but people who had no imaginations; All they had done was plagiarize the work in one fashion or another. The confession had attracted them enough that they wanted to be associated with it; each of the poor blokes were even willing to lie and say that they had somehow written it; some even boasting to the that fact.
Little by little I fell under the spell of the confession. I began to study everything about it. I began to actually research every mention within it as to whether it was about some person or place. I was fortunate in this as for all my life I had lived in Estill County and for the most part the subject matter of the confession all took place within the county; being an avid history student I was naturally interested in the story about the first man legally hanged in my home county..
And then the day came when I decided to go find Ed Hawkins' grave. This was a long time before the Estill County Historical Society had finally gone out to his grave site and placed a headstone. And on that matter, I am not so sure they placed it at the right spot. But on that day that I went to find Ed's grave I drove out to one end of Estill County where I located an old man that was whittling on a cedar stick in front of a porch connected to a country grocery store. I asked him if he knew where the old Hawkins' cabin might have been. He stopped whittling and said, "Son, you are lucky that you happened to have found me. I am one hundred years old. I am probably the only man alive that does know where the old Hawkins cabin used to be. I used to play around it when I was a boy. It had large chimneys at each end of it. But it's all gone, now. Even the chimneys have been stolen."
The man directed me down a road explaining where I had to make a few turns and that afternoon I found myself exploring a small hollow and some open fields towards Clark County near Red River. I then went to a hillside made of shale where the Hawkins graveyard remained. There were only a few headstones left but I knew that I was in the right place as I saw one of Ed's sister's graves, her name was Sarah. But there was one thing that spellbound me when I got there--the biggest and oldest persimmon tree that I had ever seen in my life; it was a dark giant and all but dead as its branches were dried out and many of the bare limbs were broken off or ready to break. I placed my hands on the bark of the tree and when I did I had the strangest sensation...Somehow I felt as though I were touching Ed Hawkins. That tree had been hanging on and waiting all those years for me to come to it. I leaned up against it and looked up at the sky as something queer was going on and then I saw it; a turkey buzzard circling so low and slow over my head that I thought I could almost touch it.
You see, in that confession of Ed Hawkins his brother said that when Ed was hanged and then brought back home to be buried that the family decided not to put a tombstone on his grave; that Ed had shamed the family so badly having killed the sheriff and deputy of Estill County that they didn't want anyone to ever know where he was buried. But his brother said in a letter later on that he always knew where Ed was buried because after he he had been buried the next year a small persimmon tree appeared over his grave. And every year that persimmon tree continued to grow. And it had grown all those years finally having me come to it.
That was twenty six years ago. I went to that same grave site this past winter. Now there is a head marker there on that same shale bank. I know it is in the wrong place because it is no place near where that giant persimmon tree once stood. Now that tombstone is just sitting there on the shale bank and more of a marker and memorial than being at an accurate grave spot. But you know, the one thing I noticed when I was there this last time, was all the young persimmon trees; there must have been hundreds of them all around throughout the area near the graves; that old tree that is now long gone sure dispersed a lot of life before it left this earth.
When I stood there those many years ago first touching that tree I promised Ed and myself that I would do his story, That I would make him come back alive. And this time, I would have everyone love him. I studied the confession more than anyone could ever dream as I worked with it for twenty six years. It eventually became quite obvious to me that Ed himself probably never wrote a single word of it. And that it really never was any actual confession. What I could see was that the story had been written by someone very educated; the kind of Education that Ed certainly never had. Obviously, someone having known Ed took plenty of time to organize many things that Ed may have said to them; and things that might have happened elsewhere; This person was more than likely the newspaper editor of Estill County at the time of Ed's trial and hanging. Around the turn of the century this so-called confession of Ed's first appeared in a small booklet form as it was then published by the local newspaper; there were claims that all one thousand copies of it sold out in one day but I doubt that as well. The confession soon became so popular that people in Estill County such as Asa Martin were making songs from it and recopying it so much that in time everything became FACT. Nobody paused to consider its origin and the actual content it owned. Supposedly, Ed was offered some new clothes to be hanged in if he told his story. Just who he told that story to remains still remains a mystery. But I am still guessing that it was the newspaper editor; Ed's story and hanging was the biggest event in Estill County's history, if not still so; some 10,000 people reportedly came to see the event; it was not something that a newsman would have let get away.
But all that stuff really doesn't much matter as people will believe what they want to believe and it is just as well. Over the years Ed has grown into legend. He is Estill County's Robin Hood and Jesse James all in one. Just about everyone in Estill County has heard of him or something about him. When I left his grave this last time there was a stranger that met me when I got into my car. I told him where I had been and asked if he knew anything about Ed Hawkins. "Sure do," he replied. "That man was the devil," he assured. "He took two babies and slung them off the Irvine Bridge. And as they was flying through the air he laughed out loud all the way until they smacked the ground!"
"I never heard that before," I said.
"It's a fact," he told me. And then I drove away.
I never bothered mentioning to the stranger that there was no Irvine Bridge when Ed was alive between 1836-1837. Why would I? Ed is legend.
And now, after more than twenty-six years of laboring on a book I call NEFARIOUS, I wait like a child at Christmas to see my second novel released across America on November 15, 2012 by ITOH PRESS. And when it does, my old promise to Ed will have been met.
EDWARD HAWKINS DISCOVERY IN LEE COUNTY CAVE---FEB., 2009
Email from Marilyn...
No Sweat,
Thank you for the fantastic cave pictures. Why is the date 1909? Ed was long gone by then. Sorry if I seem ignorant on this. Is that his actual handwriting or a visitor? Who are the other people listed on the wall? Very interesting indeed. Thank you for sharing. I believe the reason my Aunt wouldn't speak highly of Ed is because she was an extremely religious woman. I always felt that she was afraid she would be judged wrongly for saying he was her Uncle. (Great Uncle actually, but she always referred to him as Uncle Ned). I was just in Estill County back in October; I have a picture of Ed's headstone, if it is actually his. I tried to find the place in town where he was supposed to have been hanged but didn't find it. Even though I have always been more connected to my Mother's side of the family and spent a lot of time in Menifee County where she was raised, something draws me to Estill. I don't know what but I feel very at peace when I am there. My Dad was raised in Nada and he never wanted to go back after he left. My Aunt lived in Clay City and I would visit her whenever I had the chance. She had lots of old pictures. We had made plans for her to show them to me but unfortunately she passed away and now no one seems to know where those old photos are. I shall not bother you with any more winded conversation. I have an early day tomorrow and hopefully, the new snow storm we are expecting overnight will find someplace else to go..
Marilyn
Sent: Wed, Jan 19, 2011 12:59 pm
Subject: Re: Ed Hawkins
Dear Marilyn,
Of course Ed's story, the one within that poor booklet, is based mostly on actual events. There's no doubting most of it. The fact that he killed the sheriff and the deputy is true, that much is for certain. And when he was born, probably true, too. Beyond those facts, it becomes hazy. And as I have attempted to relay, over time Ed has developed into a wonderful legend. He is the one person that you can knock on the door of more Estill Contians and mention his name and get a response to than anyone else. It seems each person has their own story to tell regarding him. Generally, every story relates back to the poor booklet in one way or the other. But sometimes, I'm treated with brand new stories and they are as wonderful as any attributed to Jesse James or Butch Cassidy. The folk of Estill county almost need someone like poor Ed to fall back on; he's their Robin Hood and Frankenstein all in ne. We Estill countians are a poor lot and when we get someone as colorful as what Ed was depicted to be we cling to him like a lit Christmas tree. I won't deny, me especially. As a story teller and one in love with the people of Estill county and the heaven we live in I became instantly attracted to Ed Hawkins the first time I sat down and read the poor booklet. I knew it was our best story and something inside of me said that if dared, I could develop the story into something even beyond, something even finer. And for 31 years I have written and struggled with every word in that poor booklet until it has become more than what it is, it has become my Bible. But not one that I cherish in such a way as to never question.
In fact, that's why I have I have written to you as I have. The very fact that I began to examine each sentence, each word --out of necessity to what I was doing---allowed my thought processes to roam much farther than the average person picking up the poor booklet and reading it and thinking, well, what about all that, and then setting it back down, never to be analyzed.
You must appreciate that at the time this poor booklet appeared on the Estill County scene, some near 60 years after Ed's death, that it had been extremely well advertised in the newspaper for nearly a month before it finally came out. And when it did come out the 1,000 copies of it at $1 each were sold out that day. It was a financial success for the newspaper. And one of the worst things that helped it to grow in stature as if it were actual was the fact that the esteemed Hallie Johnston--who was nothing but a fool---also copied the thing and used it in her Estill County history which was also reprinted all over again in the 100th Anniv. cent. issue of the newspaper. The poor folk of Estill county all reading this over and over again and it slowly sinking not only into their minds but also, well, their poor psyches as well. So much so, that even nice ladies, such as your aunt, absorbed the stories so much as to affect them in one manner or the other. Of course, her being a Hawkins, she was supposed to do just like all the Hawkins were supposed to do in the poor booklet---and that was to have nothing to do with poor Ed the despicable character; bury him in an unmarked grave, etc.
In reality, few families, if any, actually feel this way when a relative of their does something horrible; I watched the trial of a man in Estill county some 25 years ago with keen interest as he had killed the sheriff and the deputy. In that trial his mother wept and pleaded for his life. I will never forget such. I can promise you he will not be buried in an unmarked grave. To save grace in the story in the poor booklet, the Hawkins were supposed to dis own Ed in the end. But there is flaw after law with that picture as he came to them for help after shooting the sheriff and deputy and they loved him even then when he told them the story; it is unlikely that that love suddenly flew out the window after he got caught. I could name you a hundred other instances but will save us some time.
Please also know that at the time Ed was hanged and for some 75 years prior, that it was extremely popular to publish confessions of the villains of the day. I have read over 100 confessions of such that came out in the papers of that time period. Most of those confessions, well, you'd think you were reading Ed's confession all over again. Such striking similarities as to knock you down. The beginnings are almost always the same and the confession at the gallows, too. In short, whomever actually wrote the poor booklet and attributed the thing to Ed having penned it in first person for better effect, probably got their first idea by having read some of these other confessions. As one might suspect, even such wasn't original.
What likely happened was that a newspaper person came to see Ed from time to time and talked to him through the log cell and that this person kept notes. Either that or someone of the cloth. In fact, there is mention in a couple of stories that someone did visit him and did propose to him that if he would write out a confession that then they would give him nice clothes to e hanged in in return. In this, there is a "smell" of what may have partially happened. But certainly, all the information must have been gathered and reconstructed as well as added to. In short, someone assembled a "term paper" and doing such took it a notch higher knowing that the better the effect the better the sale. They were a smart lot in doing such as it remains steadfast to this day. I hardly believe your aunt knew "Ned" or that she actually knew anyone that REALLY did. People can say anything. You know that. Heck, my poor father tells me that we are descendants from some castle on the Rhine River and common sense tells me that is a lie.
As for Ed's exact looks, features----ahhhhhh-----I am so glad that interest you as it has stuck in my throat for 31 years. I combed so many old newspapers you wouldn't believe, a few with success. And just last year, while in the attic of a Civil War Mansion in Madison County, one having never been explored---I found over 200 newspapers that are not supposed to exist--in short--the ONLY ones in existence. You would love what I have found. You see, the papers in Estill county---there is not an actual newspaper that survived that has the story of Ed--his trial or the actual hanging----and it was by far the biggest story Estill county had ever had. Oddly, for that same time, neither are there any other papers that would have actually covered the entire story. It as though history went to great lengths to destroy what really happened. All we have left is that poor booklet created by someone we don't begin to know.
But I saw the papers in the flood that were in the courthouse. I was in the boy scouts in the early 60's and use to sweep the water away from those papers every troop meeting which was in the same spot. I remember them well and I remember seeing so much. And I know who wound up with most of them during the "rescue" of the flood many years later--naturally, one of Estill's esteemed citizens belonging to the historical society--basically, a thief.
You will fall in love with what I have done with Ed's story. 31 years ago I stood by the giant and dying persimmon tree over his grave and as I touched that tree (its bark was already beginning to come off). I felt a wondrous magic come over me. I looked in the sky and saw a buzzard circling and I smelled the air where he had been born and was laid to rest. I promised him then and there that I would bring him back to life and would tell his story just as he would want me to tell it----with all the color and dark humor ---I can possibly imagine. And Marilyn, for 31 years, I have been doing this. Thousands and thousands of pages have gone through my hands. Even now, I am averaging 6 hours per day every day. Its no longer labor but a fantastic date with Ed and a race against my own end. I don't want this to be just some other novel but one that will be recognized across this state and farther. Something that will fulfill those promises to me and Ed that I made so many years ago.
I do not want to give you much at this time for several reason--mainly because I have spent so much time earning what I have--but I will send you one photograph---a real one---of me in a cave a year or so ago. This is a photo taken of me fairly deep in a cave that is in Lee county not too distant from the Kentucky River. I won't explain the photo but will, well, allow you to put two and two together, just as I had to do. I will say this, it is solid proof that not all of the Hawkins family was so disgusted in him as your aunt may have pretensed.
I'll write you more later--but honest--I must get back to working on the manuscript as I honestly do have a publisher waiting to see the first part of it. And I am going back over that while also re writing the last half--
Blessings
*** photo in another email to come
To: [email protected]
Subject: Ed Hawkins
Date: Wed, 19 Jan 2011 08:11:40 -0500 (EST)
Greetings:
First, let me make it clear that reading what you have to say does not make me mad nor does it open my eyes. It just places another theory in my mind for consideration. I must state that I do not believe everything I hear. My Aunt, such a lovely person who left this world in 1985, never said a mean word against anyone. Except Ed. She would never go into great detail, as she was ashamed to be so closely related to him. I do believe he killed the Sheriff and Deputy however, I find it hard to believe that one man can be in so many different places and how one man can be so charming that he could pass himself off as a Doctor, Lawyer, etc...and win the heart of many young ladies. That much I feel is fabricated. The fact that he could elude the law so many times doesn't bode well. I am not that interested in his misbehaving's as I am finding his siblings. I am more interested in what he looked like and what happened to the family along the way. There are so many Hawkins families in Ky and the fact that they have to name their kids the same names makes it hard to find out who is who. It would be interesting, in deed, to see what you have and the sketching's you possess. Should you compile these into a book, I would be most interested to read it. I read where his Mother was blind, however that was never mentioned in family discussions. She may well have been but I don't know. Did she really have 17 kids? I don't know that either. If she did, they are certainly hard to locate. I would be interested to hear what you have to say.
Regards,
Marilyn
Thank you for the fantastic cave pictures. Why is the date 1909? Ed was long gone by then. Sorry if I seem ignorant on this. Is that his actual handwriting or a visitor? Who are the other people listed on the wall? Very interesting indeed. Thank you for sharing. I believe the reason my Aunt wouldn't speak highly of Ed is because she was an extremely religious woman. I always felt that she was afraid she would be judged wrongly for saying he was her Uncle. (Great Uncle actually, but she always referred to him as Uncle Ned). I was just in Estill County back in October; I have a picture of Ed's headstone, if it is actually his. I tried to find the place in town where he was supposed to have been hanged but didn't find it. Even though I have always been more connected to my Mother's side of the family and spent a lot of time in Menifee County where she was raised, something draws me to Estill. I don't know what but I feel very at peace when I am there. My Dad was raised in Nada and he never wanted to go back after he left. My Aunt lived in Clay City and I would visit her whenever I had the chance. She had lots of old pictures. We had made plans for her to show them to me but unfortunately she passed away and now no one seems to know where those old photos are. I shall not bother you with any more winded conversation. I have an early day tomorrow and hopefully, the new snow storm we are expecting overnight will find someplace else to go..
Marilyn
Sent: Wed, Jan 19, 2011 12:59 pm
Subject: Re: Ed Hawkins
Dear Marilyn,
Of course Ed's story, the one within that poor booklet, is based mostly on actual events. There's no doubting most of it. The fact that he killed the sheriff and the deputy is true, that much is for certain. And when he was born, probably true, too. Beyond those facts, it becomes hazy. And as I have attempted to relay, over time Ed has developed into a wonderful legend. He is the one person that you can knock on the door of more Estill Contians and mention his name and get a response to than anyone else. It seems each person has their own story to tell regarding him. Generally, every story relates back to the poor booklet in one way or the other. But sometimes, I'm treated with brand new stories and they are as wonderful as any attributed to Jesse James or Butch Cassidy. The folk of Estill county almost need someone like poor Ed to fall back on; he's their Robin Hood and Frankenstein all in ne. We Estill countians are a poor lot and when we get someone as colorful as what Ed was depicted to be we cling to him like a lit Christmas tree. I won't deny, me especially. As a story teller and one in love with the people of Estill county and the heaven we live in I became instantly attracted to Ed Hawkins the first time I sat down and read the poor booklet. I knew it was our best story and something inside of me said that if dared, I could develop the story into something even beyond, something even finer. And for 31 years I have written and struggled with every word in that poor booklet until it has become more than what it is, it has become my Bible. But not one that I cherish in such a way as to never question.
In fact, that's why I have I have written to you as I have. The very fact that I began to examine each sentence, each word --out of necessity to what I was doing---allowed my thought processes to roam much farther than the average person picking up the poor booklet and reading it and thinking, well, what about all that, and then setting it back down, never to be analyzed.
You must appreciate that at the time this poor booklet appeared on the Estill County scene, some near 60 years after Ed's death, that it had been extremely well advertised in the newspaper for nearly a month before it finally came out. And when it did come out the 1,000 copies of it at $1 each were sold out that day. It was a financial success for the newspaper. And one of the worst things that helped it to grow in stature as if it were actual was the fact that the esteemed Hallie Johnston--who was nothing but a fool---also copied the thing and used it in her Estill County history which was also reprinted all over again in the 100th Anniv. cent. issue of the newspaper. The poor folk of Estill county all reading this over and over again and it slowly sinking not only into their minds but also, well, their poor psyches as well. So much so, that even nice ladies, such as your aunt, absorbed the stories so much as to affect them in one manner or the other. Of course, her being a Hawkins, she was supposed to do just like all the Hawkins were supposed to do in the poor booklet---and that was to have nothing to do with poor Ed the despicable character; bury him in an unmarked grave, etc.
In reality, few families, if any, actually feel this way when a relative of their does something horrible; I watched the trial of a man in Estill county some 25 years ago with keen interest as he had killed the sheriff and the deputy. In that trial his mother wept and pleaded for his life. I will never forget such. I can promise you he will not be buried in an unmarked grave. To save grace in the story in the poor booklet, the Hawkins were supposed to dis own Ed in the end. But there is flaw after law with that picture as he came to them for help after shooting the sheriff and deputy and they loved him even then when he told them the story; it is unlikely that that love suddenly flew out the window after he got caught. I could name you a hundred other instances but will save us some time.
Please also know that at the time Ed was hanged and for some 75 years prior, that it was extremely popular to publish confessions of the villains of the day. I have read over 100 confessions of such that came out in the papers of that time period. Most of those confessions, well, you'd think you were reading Ed's confession all over again. Such striking similarities as to knock you down. The beginnings are almost always the same and the confession at the gallows, too. In short, whomever actually wrote the poor booklet and attributed the thing to Ed having penned it in first person for better effect, probably got their first idea by having read some of these other confessions. As one might suspect, even such wasn't original.
What likely happened was that a newspaper person came to see Ed from time to time and talked to him through the log cell and that this person kept notes. Either that or someone of the cloth. In fact, there is mention in a couple of stories that someone did visit him and did propose to him that if he would write out a confession that then they would give him nice clothes to e hanged in in return. In this, there is a "smell" of what may have partially happened. But certainly, all the information must have been gathered and reconstructed as well as added to. In short, someone assembled a "term paper" and doing such took it a notch higher knowing that the better the effect the better the sale. They were a smart lot in doing such as it remains steadfast to this day. I hardly believe your aunt knew "Ned" or that she actually knew anyone that REALLY did. People can say anything. You know that. Heck, my poor father tells me that we are descendants from some castle on the Rhine River and common sense tells me that is a lie.
As for Ed's exact looks, features----ahhhhhh-----I am so glad that interest you as it has stuck in my throat for 31 years. I combed so many old newspapers you wouldn't believe, a few with success. And just last year, while in the attic of a Civil War Mansion in Madison County, one having never been explored---I found over 200 newspapers that are not supposed to exist--in short--the ONLY ones in existence. You would love what I have found. You see, the papers in Estill county---there is not an actual newspaper that survived that has the story of Ed--his trial or the actual hanging----and it was by far the biggest story Estill county had ever had. Oddly, for that same time, neither are there any other papers that would have actually covered the entire story. It as though history went to great lengths to destroy what really happened. All we have left is that poor booklet created by someone we don't begin to know.
But I saw the papers in the flood that were in the courthouse. I was in the boy scouts in the early 60's and use to sweep the water away from those papers every troop meeting which was in the same spot. I remember them well and I remember seeing so much. And I know who wound up with most of them during the "rescue" of the flood many years later--naturally, one of Estill's esteemed citizens belonging to the historical society--basically, a thief.
You will fall in love with what I have done with Ed's story. 31 years ago I stood by the giant and dying persimmon tree over his grave and as I touched that tree (its bark was already beginning to come off). I felt a wondrous magic come over me. I looked in the sky and saw a buzzard circling and I smelled the air where he had been born and was laid to rest. I promised him then and there that I would bring him back to life and would tell his story just as he would want me to tell it----with all the color and dark humor ---I can possibly imagine. And Marilyn, for 31 years, I have been doing this. Thousands and thousands of pages have gone through my hands. Even now, I am averaging 6 hours per day every day. Its no longer labor but a fantastic date with Ed and a race against my own end. I don't want this to be just some other novel but one that will be recognized across this state and farther. Something that will fulfill those promises to me and Ed that I made so many years ago.
I do not want to give you much at this time for several reason--mainly because I have spent so much time earning what I have--but I will send you one photograph---a real one---of me in a cave a year or so ago. This is a photo taken of me fairly deep in a cave that is in Lee county not too distant from the Kentucky River. I won't explain the photo but will, well, allow you to put two and two together, just as I had to do. I will say this, it is solid proof that not all of the Hawkins family was so disgusted in him as your aunt may have pretensed.
I'll write you more later--but honest--I must get back to working on the manuscript as I honestly do have a publisher waiting to see the first part of it. And I am going back over that while also re writing the last half--
Blessings
*** photo in another email to come
To: [email protected]
Subject: Ed Hawkins
Date: Wed, 19 Jan 2011 08:11:40 -0500 (EST)
Greetings:
First, let me make it clear that reading what you have to say does not make me mad nor does it open my eyes. It just places another theory in my mind for consideration. I must state that I do not believe everything I hear. My Aunt, such a lovely person who left this world in 1985, never said a mean word against anyone. Except Ed. She would never go into great detail, as she was ashamed to be so closely related to him. I do believe he killed the Sheriff and Deputy however, I find it hard to believe that one man can be in so many different places and how one man can be so charming that he could pass himself off as a Doctor, Lawyer, etc...and win the heart of many young ladies. That much I feel is fabricated. The fact that he could elude the law so many times doesn't bode well. I am not that interested in his misbehaving's as I am finding his siblings. I am more interested in what he looked like and what happened to the family along the way. There are so many Hawkins families in Ky and the fact that they have to name their kids the same names makes it hard to find out who is who. It would be interesting, in deed, to see what you have and the sketching's you possess. Should you compile these into a book, I would be most interested to read it. I read where his Mother was blind, however that was never mentioned in family discussions. She may well have been but I don't know. Did she really have 17 kids? I don't know that either. If she did, they are certainly hard to locate. I would be interested to hear what you have to say.
Regards,
Marilyn
Old Landing Kentucky Cave |
|
Here are three photos that
I took of the actual cave located at Old Landing Kentucky where Edward Hawkins
hid soon after murdering the sheriff and deputy of Estill County. I took
these photos on the exact day in the spring that Ed states he hid there. I did
this to give you a feeling of what the cave actually appeared like when he entered
into it. While a posse came and entered into the cave searching for him
but did not find him. In my novel, NEFARIOUS,
I fictionalized this cave and have Ed Hawkins meeting and living with Kit
Carson inside of throughout a horrible winter.
