The story of Andy Taylor’s hanging in Loudon County, Tennessee, on November 23, 1883, is a dramatic and somber tale, branded by local newspapers as one of the “boldest and most atrocious” crimes in the state’s history. It’s a narrative that culminates in a public execution and, intriguingly, echoes through the halls of the very courthouse where his fate was sealed.

The Path to the Gallows

The tragic saga began with Andy’s older brother, John Taylor. On February 21, 1881, in Chattanooga, John killed James Fletcher during an argument sparked by Fletcher’s remark about John carrying a pistol. After the shooting, John fled down the Tennessee River, hiding in the mountains until he was eventually captured in Roane County after a posse besieged him.

John was convicted of manslaughter and sentenced to ten years, a verdict he appealed to the state Supreme Court in Knoxville. However, his journey to appeal took a violent turn on September 14, 1882. While being transported by train to Knoxville, guarded by Hamilton County Sheriff W. T. Cate and Deputy Sheriff John J. Conway, John’s brothers, Bob and Andy Taylor, who were also on the train, initiated a chaotic escape. Bob shot and killed Deputy Sheriff Conway. Andy fired at Sheriff Cate, who was charging into the scene. Despite being handcuffed, John seized the deputy’s pistol and joined Andy in shooting the Sheriff, who also died after firing one shot, wounding John in the wrist.

The three brothers escaped the train and vanished into the hills between Loudon and Kingston. They forced a physician to treat John’s wound and acquired cartridges from several stores before retreating into dense forests. Eventually, Bob Taylor separated from John and Andy, who then traveled cautiously towards Alabama, moving only under the cover of darkness.

Andy Taylor’s Capture and Trial

After the deaths of his two brothers, a scarcely 20-year-old Andy became despondent and contemplated suicide. He ended up working on a farm in Kansas, where he again attempted to shoot himself but was prevented. Law enforcement, including sheriffs from Hamilton and Loudon Counties, eventually tracked him down and apprehended him. Due to intense public fervor in Chattanooga and fears of a lynching, Andy was initially taken to Nashville and then, by order of Governor William B. Bate, incarcerated in Williamsburg, Kentucky.

In June 1883, Andy Taylor was transferred to Loudon to face trial for the murders of Sheriff Cate and Deputy Conway. Selecting a jury proved to be an arduous task, requiring the summoning of 1,000 talesmen before a complete jury could be formed. His court-appointed attorneys argued that Andy was a minor at the time of the crime and had been coerced into the deeds by his elder brother, Bob. Despite their defense, after a week-long trial and two hours of deliberation, the jury returned a verdict of murder in the first degree. His lawyers appealed to the Supreme Court, but the lower court’s finding was upheld.

The Public Hanging

Andy Taylor was sentenced to die on November 23, 1883. He was transferred back to Loudon to face the gallows, which were erected on the Loudon County Courthouse lawn. This would be the first and last public hanging in Loudon County.

Taylor maintained an indifferent and composed demeanor until the very end, refusing to see any minister and declaring he “would die like a man.” His final words were profane, and his conduct on the gallows was described as “wonderful and unparalleled in the annals of crime, and fully in keeping with his desperate nature and atrocious deeds.” The trap was sprung at 3:15 PM. He was dead within nine minutes and cut down at the twenty-seventh minute. Approximately 1,500 people witnessed the execution.

After being cut down, Andy Taylor’s body was placed in a coffin for shipment to his mother. The New York Times called the event a “terrible tragedy,” bringing a dramatic and violent saga involving the Taylor brothers to a grim conclusion. The story of Andy Taylor’s hanging stands as a stark testament to the justice system and the public’s fascination with crime and punishment in 19th-century America.

Echoes in the Courthouse

The Loudon County Courthouse, a structure that bore witness to such profound human drama, from solemn legal proceedings to the stark brutality of execution, has inevitably become intertwined with stories of lingering presences. Local historians and ghost tour guides, like the well-known Bo Carey, often include the courthouse as a significant stop, hinting at spirits that “return time and time again to ‘keep in touch’ with their past.”

For those who have spent long hours within its old walls, particularly after the last light of day fades, these hints become something more. A night cleaner, who worked at the courthouse for years before the 2019 fire, frequently spoke of a distinct, acrid scent of gunpowder that would occasionally permeate the air, especially near the front entrance. It was a heavy, metallic tang that would linger for minutes, even hours, with no logical source. They also described a profound sense of unease that would settle over the old courtrooms after midnight—a heavy, watchful silence, as if unseen eyes were still scrutinizing every movement and whispered secret. More than once, they swore they heard faint, disembodied murmurs, like hushed arguments or desperate pleas, emanating from empty corridors. And then there was the rhythmic creak of a heavy rope straining, a chilling reminder of the gallows that once stood on the lawn.

One former clerk, initially a skeptic, reported seeing a fleeting, youthful shadow dart across the upper windows at dusk, always just at the periphery of his vision. It was never distinct, more a ripple in the light, but it was consistently there, quick and gone before he could truly focus. He began to wonder if it was the restless spirit of young Andy, perhaps still trying to outrun his past, forever trapped in a desperate flight within the confines of the building that oversaw his end. He also noted strange electrical quirks: lights flickering erratically even after new wiring was installed, computers freezing at odd moments, or the faint, phantom scent of woodsmoke when no fire was present.

The fact that Andy Taylor was publicly hanged on its lawn and that the building itself has experienced a destructive fire certainly contributes to the kind of “grim history” that paranormal investigators often associate with hauntings. Many believe that strong emotions, violent deaths, or significant historical events can leave residual energy or even full-blown apparitions.

-The years rolled on. The Loudon County Courthouse continued its daily grind of justice Until the night of April 23, 2019.

An inferno roared to life within the historic Loudon County Courthouse. The blaze was fierce, consuming the old building with a terrifying speed that baffled even veteran firefighters. Witnesses spoke of an odd, acrid smell, unlike typical smoke, and a heat that seemed almost supernatural in its intensity. The cause was elusive, baffling investigators. Was it arson? A wiring fault? Nothing conclusive emerged.–

Could it be From A silent curse from Andy Taylors Last Moments, a raw, visceral need for vengeance, That had lain dormant, simmering for 136 years? Could the very building that had condemned Andy Taylor have been marked By His last breath.