John Brown’s Gallows, A Nation’s Reckoning

A cold morning, a fortified town, and a scaffold placed just out of earshot—Charleston, Virginia tried to choreograph John Brown’s end and, with it, the story the country would remember. What they could not contain was a single handwritten note that slipped past the rope and into the bloodstream of a nation already splitting at the seams.

We walk the final hours with four witnesses whose perspectives refract the moment: Thomas J. Jackson, the meticulous VMI professor whose faith and discipline frame the state’s show of force; Edmund Ruffin, the fire-eater who turns pikes into propaganda and sees opportunity in the gallows; David Hunter Strother, the conflicted journalist caught between honesty and editorial fear; and a young John Wilkes Booth, reading the scene as theater and quietly rehearsing a darker role. Alongside them, Brown tends his will, thanks his jailer, hands coins to his men, and chooses silence over spectacle—saving his last words for paper, not the crowd.

The procession becomes public theater, the pause on the trapdoor stretches time, and the drop turns a man into a symbol. From controlled access to censored sketches, from church bells in the North to militia drills in the South, we trace how a state-managed execution became a catalyst. Keywords that matter here—John Brown, Harper’s Ferry, Bleeding Kansas, Stonewall Jackson, Edmund Ruffin, John Wilkes Booth, abolition, secession, Fort Sumter—aren’t just tags; they’re threads that stitch a straight line from a quiet cell to a continent at war.

Listen for the details that history often blurs: the bronze guns on the field, the black box that is also a coffin, the exact phrasing of a prophecy that predicted blood. Stay for the larger question that lingers long after the body is cut down: can power manage meaning when memory prefers to travel light and fast? If this story moves you, follow the show, share it with a friend who loves American history, and leave a review telling us what single moment changed your view.

PLATE & PONDER: EMPTY NESTING w/ Jen & Chris Fenton
Where a recently empty-nesting married couple discuss explosive headlines over dinner.

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Chapters

• 0:00 Setting The Stage In Charleston
• 1:05 Power, Press, And Controlled Spectacle
• 3:22 Faces In The Crowd: Jackson And Ruffin
• 8:26 Inside The Cell: Will And Prophecy
• 12:26 [Ad] PLATE & PONDER: EMPTY NESTING w/ Jen & Chris Fenton
• 13:09 (Cont.) Inside The Cell: Will And Prophecy
• 13:52 The Procession And Public Theater
• 16:57 Booth’s Gaze And Future Shadows
• 19:02 Brown’s Resolve And Moral Logic
• 20:57 At The Gallows: Silence As Statement
• 23:16 The Drop, Reactions, And Meaning
• 25:54 Aftermath, The Note, And Spreading Fire
• 27:52 From Bells To Battle: Toward War

Transcript

SPEAKER_00: 0:14

They say John Brown was the spark that started the Civil War. But on a cold December morning in 1859, that spark was extinguished at the end of a rope. Or was it? From the bloody battles of Bleeding Kansas to the raid on Harper's Ferry, his life was a violent crusade for freedom. But his death? That was a prophecy. Welcome to the Wild West Podcast. I'm your host, Brad Smalley, and today's episode, The Day of the Meteor, the Execution of John Brown. Charleston, Virginia. It's the morning of December 2nd, 1859. A cold gray light is spreading over the Blue Ridge Mountains, illuminating a town that feels more like a fortress now. Under the control of the Virginia state, the mayor Thomas Green has ordered all citizens to stay inside their homes. He warns that the streets could be dangerous. But the danger doesn't come from an army, it arises from an idea. A powerful idea. About 1,500 soldiers have gathered here to deal with one man, John Brown. In the South, Brown is seen as a madman, a criminal who plotted with enslaved people to spark a violent uprising. His attempt to seize a Federal Armory in Harper's Ferry just weeks earlier has been viewed as a serious threat to society. However, in the North, people's opinions are shifting. To thinkers like Henry David Thoreau, Brown is transforming from just old Brown into an angel of light, someone inspiring hope for change. The writer Herman Melville even calls him a metaphorical meteor of the war, signaling something significant on the horizon. Today is not just about a legal trial, it's a carefully controlled event, organized by Virginia's governor Henry A. Wise. The heavy military presence is not just to stop anyone from trying to rescue Brown, but also to assert the state's power and shape the story being told. Access is limited. Most journalists are pushed away as the authorities treat them with suspicion. The gallows where Brown will be executed has been set up far from the public, ensuring that no ordinary citizen can hear what he might say. Virginia fears his final words as much as his weapons. They want to execute him away from the public's ears. Yet history has a way of breaking through silence. On this chilly morning, a few notable individuals are gathering to witness what will happen. Among them is a strict military leader who will later earn the nickname Stonewall. There's also a passionate old supporter of secession who hopes Brown's death will finally awaken the South to what they believe is their mission. A conflicted journalist is present, torn between two opposing views and struggling to tell the truth that nobody seems willing to accept. Finally, a young actor in the militia, whose name will eventually be associated with a shocking act of violence, stands among them. Through their eyes, we will experience the last hours of John Brown. We will not only witness the death of one man, but also the emergence of a martyr and the grim realization of Brown's belief that only blood could cleanse the sins of the nation. Before the sun rises, Major Thomas J. Jackson stands at his post, surrounded by the sharp and biting air that hits the skin of his cadets. Jackson is a professor of military tactics at the Virginia Military Institute and finds comfort in structure and the logical principles of his faith. Out in the field near Charleston, both of these elements are on display. He commands two bronze cannons operated by a group of 21 cadets. Jackson closely supervises their placement, making sure they are positioned to control the area around the gallows, which stands ominously in the midst of the training grounds. Colonel Francis H. Smith, the head of the Institute, has directed this operation, sending the cadets to provide additional security upon the request of Governor Wise. Their orders were clear. They were to act in a way that would not harm the reputation of their corps. Many cadets came from wealthy families in the Tidewater region, and for them this mission feels deeply personal. They see it as a way to protect their way of life. Watching the cadets, Jackson's expression remains unreadable as he mentally prepares to write a letter to his wife Mary Anna, detailing the day's events. He pays attention to everything around him: the look of the coffin, the color of the prisoner's shoes, the way the trapdoor works. Yet beneath his soldier's exterior, he struggles with the serious fate of a man about to be executed. That man is John Brown, a figure Jackson has heard about. He recognizes Brown's unwavering courage, a trait any soldier admires. However, Jackson is troubled by the fact that Brown has refused any minister's counsel unless they denounce slavery, dismissing the religious leaders of Virginia entirely. To Jackson, this raises serious concerns about Brown's spiritual state. Jackson is deeply affected by the thought that in just a few hours a healthy man will face death. He feels an obligation to pray for Brown, hoping that he finds redemption in his final moments. But he is filled with doubt. As he watches the cadets standing by their cannons, he can't shake the grim realization that the judgment awaiting John Brown is far worse than death. It's a divine condemnation to eternal suffering. For Thomas Jackson, the laws of God are as certain and unchanging as the laws that govern the artillery he commands. In a small rented room in Charleston, a 65-year-old man named Edmund Ruffin is getting ready for a significant event. He is well known in the South for his contributions to farming, having taught many how to restore their worn-out land. However, in recent years, Ruffin has turned his attention to something much more explosive: the idea of secession or breaking away from the Union. With his long, wild white hair and intense gaze, he has become one of the most passionate supporters of Southern independence. For him, the recent raid led by John Brown is not a tragedy, but a golden opportunity. As he struggles to fit into a borrowed gray coat meant for a young cadet from the Virginia Military Institute, he cannot help but find the situation somewhat amusing. He realizes he probably looks pretty ridiculous among these young soldiers, but he knows he has to disguise himself in order to achieve his goal. When he first came to town, eager to witness the execution of John Brown, he was arrested as someone suspicious. He found out that only military personnel could get close to the gallows. Undeterred, Ruffin managed to convince Colonel Smith, the superintendent of VMI, to let him join the cadets, though he didn't question why he was given this privilege. This journey for Ruffin is more than just a trip. It is a heartfelt mission to what he views as the center of a brewing conflict. He believes the South has become too complacent, ignoring the rising threat from the North. To him, Brown's violent actions serve as a much-needed alarm to awaken Southern citizens. In his diary, he wrote that such a dramatic display by abolitionists is essential to stir the South to action. Ruffin is not just there to witness a man's death. He sees it as a pivotal moment in the fight for Southern independence. Ruffin's intent goes beyond simply watching. He has arranged to collect some of the weapons called pikes that Brown's followers used. These are basic weapons with long blades meant for arming a slave uprising. After the execution, he will send one to the governor of each southern state, labeling it as a gift from the North. To Ruffin, these pikes will serve as proof of northern hostility, helping to raise support for secession. As he picks up a borrowed musket and prepares to join the young cadets, Edmund Ruffin feels a strong sense of purpose. John Brown represents everything he opposes, but he also sees him as an important symbol, not only for the abolitionist movement, but for his own cause. By executing Brown, Virginia is giving the South an emblem of Northern aggression. Ruffin is determined to gather evidence and spread his message, hoping to ignite a fervor for independence among his fellow Southerners, the Charleston jail stands quiet amidst the rush of military activity surrounding it. Inside his cell, John Brown is prepared. Contrary to the wild images often portrayed of him in the South, those who have spent time with Brown in his final weeks describe him as calm and determined. John Avis, the jailer, enters the cell, and there is a sense of mutual respect between them. For seven weeks, Avis has been in charge of Brown, and he has come to admire the old man's bravery. Now he is there to take him to the gallows. Before that happens, however, Brown has some important matters to sort out. Even in these last moments, his mind is clear and focused. He takes the time to write an update to his will, ensuring that some missed belongings are accounted for. He also inquires about a dollar he mentioned in a letter that never reached him. This attention to a small detail shows a side of Brown that goes beyond the simplistic views held by his supporters and critics. He isn't just a visionary, he's a careful leader who wants everything settled, even as he faces death. When he says goodbye to his fellow prisoners, members of his raiding party, there are no tears or emotional goodbyes. Instead, he gives each of them a quarter, telling them he won't need money anymore. His final command to them is clear they should face their fate bravely and remain true to their comrades. It's a leader speaking to his group, not just a man pleading for mercy. In a touching moment, Brown then turns to John Avis and gives him his silver watch as a simple gift to show his gratitude for the kindness he has received. Finally, Brown picks up a pen. On a small piece of paper, he writes down the words that will become his true farewell message. Not for the people who will execute him, but for the country that will be affected by his actions. The only sound in the cell is the scratching of his pen as he writes. I, John Brown, am now quite certain that the crimes of this guilty land will never be purged away but with blood. I had, as I now think, vainly flattered myself that without very much bloodshed it might be done. He folds the paper and hands it to one of the guards. It is a quiet, simple act, but the note is a declaration of war. Brown has accepted that his own plan for a limited, contained insurrection at Harper's Ferry has failed. Now he prophesies a far greater conflict, a national purging by fire. He has managed his death as carefully as he managed his life, ensuring his last word would not be a shout from the gallows, but a written prophecy delivered into the hands of history. Outside the jail, David Hunter Strother, known to readers of Harper's Weekly as Port Crayon, stands with a small group of onlookers. He's in a unique position. He knows important people, including the prosecutor in John Brown's case, and a friendly judge, which allowed him a level of access that other reporters don't have. However, this privilege feels like a burden to him. Strother is from Virginia and strongly opposes the extreme anti-slavery views that Brown represents. At the same time, he can't support the aggressive actions of the Virginia militia either. He finds himself in a difficult place, trying to capture the complex situation as the nation edges towards a split. His attempts to provide balanced reporting have led to criticism from both sides, with pro-slavery supporters accusing him of being too friendly to abolitionists, while abolitionists feel he is too harsh. His editors, fearful of stirring up controversy, have even edited some of his writings about the raid. Now, with a journalist's eye, he watches as John Brown exits the jail. He's surprised by Brown's energy as he heads towards the waiting wagon. As Brown passes by, he waves his restrained arm and greets the observers, leaving Stroder to wonder if there's a hint of bravado in that gesture. Stroder carefully notes everything. Brown is led to the back of the wagon, where he sits on a black box that happens to be his own coffin. Soldiers line up around the wagon, showcasing a show of military might. Stroder understands that this display is meant to send a strong message from Virginia to the rest of the country. As the wagon starts to move, he hears the wheels on the frozen dirt and knows he is witnessing a moment that's hard to describe. One that may be difficult for his country to fully understand. Although he has no official role in the events occurring that day, and is in Virginia for a play, he decides to join the militia when he hears they are heading to Charleston, borrowing a uniform to feel part of the action. For Booth, there's no confusion about what's happening. He has a purely theatrical disdain for the situation. As the procession starts, and he sees the elderly Brown seated on his coffin. He views Brown not as a man of conviction, but as an actor in a villainous role. Booth feels a surge of pride as he observes the scene. The sharp uniforms, the shining weapons, the organized march of the militia. To him, this represents the honor and strength of the South, a just reaction to what he sees as a vile threat. He isn't just watching, he feels he is part of this performance. As he marches, his eyes fixed on Brown, Booth is unwittingly preparing for his own future role. In less than six years, he will carry out his own act of violence when he assassinates a president. He will justify his actions as a noble rebellion against tyranny, viewing today's execution as a rightful defense in the way of life he cherishes. The seeds of a future tragedy are planted here, with a young actor casting judgment on a so-called traitor. As the wagon makes its way, John Brown sits calmly on his coffin, feeling at peace. The bumps from the road barely bother him. His mind is clear, filled with a strong sense of purpose. The journey is not just an end, it's the climax of a long struggle. John Brown sees himself as an agent of God's will, a role he accepted long ago during the violent clashes over slavery in Kansas. There he led an attack on a settlement supporting slavery, taking the lives of five men. As a child, he witnessed a slave being brutally beaten, and from that moment he vowed to fight against slavery. Looking out at the beautiful landscape with cornfields and white farmhouses in the Shenandoah Valley, he turns to the guards accompanying him and comments, This is a beautiful country. I never had the chance to see it before. His observation is bittersweet and full of irony. He admires the beauty of a land that represents a great injustice he has dedicated his life to fighting. His mind drifts to its trial. He recalls the final speech he delivered in court, where he argued that he didn't intend to commit murder or treason, but wanted to free the enslaved people. He expressed that he felt his actions were justified by a higher moral law. He stated he was ready to give his life to advance justice and to connect his sacrifice with the suffering of countless others in the nation. He feels no remorse, only a deep conviction. Although his plan to ignite a rebellion at Harper's Ferry didn't go as hoped, since the enslaved people didn't rise to support him, he believes his death will bring about change his actions could not. He thinks of a letter he wrote, now in the possession of his guard, where he once believed slavery could end peacefully. That hope has vanished. Now he is certain that this beautiful land needs a baptism of blood to cleanse it. His execution, he now sees, is not a failure. Rather, it is a signal of the turmoil to come. The gathering of these influential figures at this moment in history makes it a crucial turning point. The past, present, and future of the conflict over slavery in America are all present here. Brown symbolizes the fierce fight against slavery that began in Kansas, while Edmund Ruffin embodies the belief in secession and aims to use Brown's death as a rallying point. Thomas Jackson is a skilled military leader who will bring this ideology to life. John Wilkes Booth represents the terrible conclusion of this conflict. The cadets from Virginia Military Institute, marching alongside them, are the very young generation that will be affected by the chaos these men are igniting. This field symbolizes the coming civil war, bringing together all the forces waiting for the signal to start the conflict. The crowd has arrived at the gallows. Soldiers form a protective square around the scaffold, creating a watchful barrier of weapons. John Brown steps from the wagon, moving with surprising quickness. He walks calmly to the steps. He climbs onto the platform where he is described as appearing quite cheerful. On the scaffold, he shakes hands with the jailer and the sheriff. He doesn't make a speech. He understands that soldiers surround him, and the governor has made sure that no one else can hear him. So Brown's final public statement will be made in silence. From just a few steps away, journalist David Hunter Stroder watches Brown closely, looking for any hint of fear or hesitation. He sees none. Brown's face shows only determination. Stroder later reflects. He stood firm, waiting for what would come next. Among the young cadets from VMI, Edmund Ruffin stands observing. In his borrowed military uniform, he now feels more serious and committed to a cause. He has been captivating the younger men around him, sharing his strong beliefs, even as they find his age a bit amusing. He notices Brown's bravery, but thinks of it as misguided courage from a fanatic pursuing a bad cause. The executioner gently places a simple white hood over Brown's head and secures a rope around his neck. He is asked if he would like a sign before the drop. Brown, his voice muffled but calm, replies that it doesn't matter to him as long as he isn't kept waiting too long. Then he waits. Everything is set for the execution, but a human mistake leads to a long pause. For nearly ten minutes, John Brown stands hooded and ready, alone on the trapdoor, waiting for death. Major Thomas Jackson observes the situation carefully. The commanding officer, Colonel Smith, announces Everything is ready. But the sheriff, perhaps feeling nervous, seems confused about what to do. The Colonel has to repeat the command, his voice sharp in the tense silence. The sheriff, finally realizing what he needs to do, cuts the rope with one swift motion. The platform suddenly collapses with a loud crash that echoes through the quiet field. Standing in front of the VMI cadets, Thomas Jackson observes the grim scene with a cold clarity. In a letter to his wife later, he would write Brown fell through about 25 inches, causing his knees to drop to the level of his feet before the rope was severed. When he fell, his arms shot up, hands clenched, and then slowly drifted down in a spasmodic motion. For a few moments, everything is eerily still. The body hangs motionless. Then a breeze picks up, making Jackson note how the wind rocked his lifeless body back and forth. The silence that follows is heavy, until it's broken by Colonel J.T.L. Preston, a colleague of Jackson's from VMI. His words serve as a final statement, a moral for all the soldiers to hear. So perish all such enemies of Virginia, all such enemies of the Union, all such foes of the human race. Those words linger in the air, attempting to give a clear meaning to the event. But for the witnesses, the situation is anything but straightforward. The execution acts like a prism, reflecting the deep conflicts facing the nation. David Hunter Stroder begins to draw the image of the dead man, creating a powerful and haunting piece that his editors at Harper's Weekly will refuse to publish, calling it too controversial. For Edmund Ruffin, this moment is filled with grim victory. The first blow has been struck, and his campaign against opposition can start in earnest. Meanwhile, John Wilkes Booth watches from the militia ranks with a mix of disdain, unaware of the dark future that awaits him. After hanging for a while, the body is finally cut down and placed in a black walnut coffin. It is then taken back to the jail. Later that evening at 6 p.m., it is sent by wagon to Harper's Ferry to be delivered to Brown's wife, Mary. To prevent any doubts or rumors about a faked death, the coffin is opened for her to see the body. It is opened once more at the train depot before heading to Baltimore. A final confirmation that he is truly dead. Virginia, having controlled his execution, now carefully oversees his body. However, they cannot control his words. Brown understood the new reality of the nation's conversation. He knew the authorities would not allow him to speak at the gallows, so he chose a different way to express himself. His silence on the scaffold was an act of defiance, denying them the dramatic scene they expected. His true last words were written in a small private note, intended not to be shouted, but to be read, copied, and shared across the country. That quiet written message of resistance would turn out to be far more impactful than anything he could have shouted from the gallows. In the days and weeks following the execution of John Brown, the country starts to divide in clear ways. In the South, many people celebrate. But in the North, the mood is one of shock and sorrow. Church bells toll in towns and cities from Massachusetts to Iowa. Meeting halls fill with supporters, both black and white, who now openly declare John Brown a hero for the fight against slavery. In Concord, a center for American thought, famous writers Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau pay tribute to him. Thoreau says, This morning Captain Brown was hanged. He is no longer just old Brown, he is now an angel of light. The message that Brown wrote down before his death starts to spread. Newspaper articles publish his words, and they echo throughout a country already on edge. He had written, I, John Brown, am now quite certain that the crimes of this guilty land will never be washed away but with blood. The events of December 2nd push the nation closer to war. Southern politician, Edmund Ruffin, sends Brown's weapons to governors in the South, showcasing them as proof of northern aggression. Worried about more slave revolts and raids from abolitionists, Southern states start to strengthen and prepare their militias, shifting from being ceremonial groups to military forces ready for battle. Less than a year later, Abraham Lincoln becomes president. Shortly after, the first Southern state decides to leave the Union. On April 12, 1861, Confederate forces fire on Fort Sumter, marking the start of the Civil War. The first shot is fired by Edmund Ruffin, the same man who sent out Brown's pikes. The war that John Brown had foreseen has begun. John Brown's body with his wife Mary by his side is taken on a long journey back to their farm in North Elba, New York for burial. He is laid to rest in the cold earth, but his spirit lives on. Soon, Union soldiers, the sons of the North, will march into southern lands he admired. As they head towards the battlefields that he predicted would see much bloodshed, they will sing a new song, turning a man seen as a traitor into a figure of courage and sacrifice.