Murder

My second cousin has been tracing our undistinguished family back to before the Revolution. Yesterday I found out, from her work, that my fourth great-grandfather, Steven Strickland, was murdered. He was traveling, probably in Connecticut, and he stopped at a tavern. An American and an Irishman got into a fight, and the tavern owner, who was lame, asked Strickland to separate them. Strickland intervened and the Irishman's brother picked up a stone (a stone?) and pounded Strickland, crushing his skull. Strickland eventually made it home and died. The brother was held in jail for a trial, and that's all I know.

My first great-grandfather was Sylvester Streeter Strickland, known as "Vet." He was an ironmonger and fiddler and sometime union organizer, which got him run out of Los Angeles. He roamed a lot. When young he hired out in some western county to kill off all the coyotes and wolves. He set out poisoned meat and killed every dog for thirty miles. Had to run for his life.  In some camp somewhere he claimed he had fiddled while Bojangles danced.  He married Mary Berry, a pipe-smoking Irish girl right off the boat. I'm no doubt the last person to remember them.