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Andrew Jackson Russell
My grandmother, Easter Elizabeth “Lizzie” (Russell) Kirk, always spoke kindly of her eldest brother, Andrew. My mother, Joyce (Kirk) Cooper, admired him greatly, always referring to him as “Uncle Andrew”. As a small tot, I learned lots of things about Uncle Andrew before I ever met him. In my little mind, I pictured him as being about 8 feet tall, wearing a 10-gallon hat, carrying a rifle in one hand and a pistol in the other. When I first saw him, he was none of these -- I wasn’t sure this was the same Uncle Andrew I’d heard so much about. Uncle Andrew was a respected and outstanding lawman. A good part of his job was to apprehend bad people and to keep them jailed. But, on occasion, one or more prisoners found a way to break out of jail, not wishing to go before a judge who might decide to “throw the book at them.” On one occasion, five or six prisoners managed to break out of jail and escape. By the time Uncle Andrew learned of the escape, they were long gone. But, Uncle Andrew, being both shrewd and persistent, found their tracks and started the chase. There were times when he used ‘blood hounds’ but I don’t know if he used them this time. Before long, he spotted the bad guys running across an open space headed toward a cornfield. One of the guys was some distance ahead of the others. Uncle Andrew knew he might lose them, once they made it to the cornfield. When he had gotten as close to the escapees as possible, he stopped, took aim at a lone cornstalk just ahead of the front-runner and fired. The head of the stalk exploded at about the same time Uncle Andrew yelled: “The next head will be yours!” The prisoner stopped in his tracks, threw his hands in the air, and the other escapees did likewise. They marched obediently back to jail. Everyone, including the lawbreakers, knew of Andrew Jackson’s expert marksmanship. I never heard of him having to shoot anyone. -2- In 1935, my Grandmother “Lizzie” received a letter stating that Uncle Andrew was going coming to New Mexico to visit her. There was great excitement! Even I was excited! Uncle Andrew arrived in a brown coupe that could have been a 1932 Model-B Ford. It was a fine car. This was the middle of the Great Depression, and my dad had to work 28 long, 14-hour days per month, having only alternate Sundays free. So, Mother took me and my little brother, Ronald, out to the country to our grandmother’s house for the weekend. Uncle Andrew had arrived the previous day. He was not 8 feet tall, was not wearing a 10-gallon hat and was not carrying a rifle and pistol. He was a handsome gentleman, sporting a big smile and was most happy to be among so many relatives he’d not seen for several years. On previous visits, he and my mother, also an expert with a gun, had gone hunting together. They took great pride in trying to outdo each other, and one would take great pleasure in tantalizing the other for the slightest miss on a well-defined target. I believe it must have been July or August, because the weather was summery, Uncle Andrew had rolled up his sleeves, and there was talk about it being hot. I remember the sky being very clear and bright. About mid-afternoon, possibly a Saturday, Uncle Andrew challenged Mother to a shooting match. It was decided to go rabbit hunting for the occasion. For some reason, Mother drove the coupe car, Uncle Andrew sat on the passenger side and I sat in the middle. What great excitement to ride next to Uncle Andrew. Rabbits were in great excess during these years. Farmers had trapped so many coyotes that rabbits had become a nuisance. Rabbits also served as food for the table during these years of severe drought and short money. People were extra cautious with guns during that era. There was frequent talk about ‘unloaded’ guns being dangerous. No one ever pointed a gun, even an unloaded gun, in the direction of another person. On this day, Mother carried a 22-caliber rifle that she kept pointed at the floor of the car. Uncle Andrew carried a similar rifle pointed upward and outside the passenger window. There were no houses in the vicinity as Mother drove along the two-rut trail that had been carved into the pasture by wagon wheels. After getting a safe distance from the house, Uncle Andrew spotted a jackrabbit loping across the pasture. We creept along slowly in order not to spook the rabbit. When we were within about 50 yards away, Mother brought the car to a standstill and Uncle Andrew urged her to shoot the rabbit in the eye. Mother took aim and shot. The rabbit jumped about 3 feet in the air (a reflex) and dropped dead. Upon examination, it was a perfect “eye” shot. “That wasn’t bad,” Uncle Andrew teased, being cautious about bragging on my mother. I was disappointed by his remark, because I thought her shot was perfect. Uncle Andrew laid the rabbit across the rear bumper bracket and we got back into the car. Shortly, another jackrabbit was spotted sitting in the shadow of a yucca plant. It was Uncle Andrew’s turn. It jumped in the air and fell dead. His shot found its mark right through the rabbit’s eye. This game continued until perhaps 10 rabbits were stacked on the rear bumper brackets, so Mother headed the car back toward the house. A rabbit was seen sitting in the shadow of some bush or post, and it was Uncle Andrew’s turn to shoot. He drew up his rifle and took aim. “Pow!” The rabbit didn’t even move! Mother mocked him: “Ah Ha! You missed!” Uncle Andrew could not believe it! He couldn’t possibly have missed that shot. The rabbit just sat there! “Joyce, I hit that rabbit in the eye, or I’m a liar!” He barked. About that time, the rabbit jumped about 4 feet in the air and fell dead. For some reason, the jump reflex didn’t kick in for a full 4 or 5 seconds after the shot. Examination showed that Uncle Andrew had hit it directly in the eye. We tossed the rabbit on the back bumper and returned to the house. Everyone wanted to know who’d won the shooting match. Uncle Andrew grinned widely and remarked: “I lost. It was a draw!” Guess what we had for ‘supper’ that evening? |