Dan McCorkle - My Maternal 2nd Great Grandfather
Sam McCorkle - Dan's brother
Carroll McCorkle - Dan's brother
Stephen McCorkle - Dan's cousin
Robert McCorkle - Dan's uncle
52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks
Week 33 – August 13, 2025
Prompt: Legal Troubles
When some families show up in the records, it’s through land deeds or census lines. My McCorkles of Warren County, Tennessee left a very different kind of paper trail — in the courthouse. From attempted murder indictments to one-cent liquor fines, it seems there was always a McCorkle before the judge.
This week’s prompt, Legal Troubles, could hardly be more fitting. The cast of characters includes my 2nd great-grandfather, Daniel (Dan) McCorkle, and his brothers Samuel (Sam) and Carroll. Their uncle Robert and cousin Stephen also appear. Together they built a reputation for mischief, mayhem, and a little moonshine on the side.
(Readers may remember Daniel and Samuel from Week 15: Two Deserters and One Big Mistake—Mine, where Sam’s fiddle could lift or break the spirits of a whole regiment. This week, though, they’re not in camp — they’re in the courtroom.)
Murder and Mayhem
The most serious charges came in October 1858, when both Carroll and cousin Stephen were indicted for assault with intent to commit murder in the first degree against their neighbor, Elijah Poe. The language of Stephen’s indictment drips with 19th-century fire and brimstone:
“Not having the fear of God before his eyes, but being moved and seduced by the instigation of the Devil…”
Two years later, Carroll was indicted again, this time for obtaining goods under false pretenses. By October 1860, a jury found him guilty and sentenced him to three years of hard labor in the state penitentiary, with the added humiliation of losing his right to hold office.
Meanwhile, Sam — the most notorious of the brothers — was no stranger to trouble. In 1866 he was indicted for assault to kill. When he failed to appear in court, his uncle Robert and a neighbor who had put up bond forfeited $500 each. By 1874, Sam faced charges of attempting to shoot a deputy sheriff and shooting at a hog. Both indictments were eventually dismissed with costs, but his reputation for violence only deepened.
The most dramatic case came in May 1880, when Sam himself was the victim.
Southern Standard
McMinnville, Tennessee – 1880 (exact date missing; advertisement on page confirms year)
Samuel McCorkle Waylaid
Samuel McCorkle was waylaid near his home in the southeast portion of this county a few days since, and shot. Seven balls took effect, inflicting severe, if not fatal, wounds. Suspicion points to Van Tanner and Bill Taylor as the guilty parties. They have left for parts unknown. The matter is supposed to have grown out of a former difficulty between the parties.
The latest report is that McCorkle will doubtless not recover.
Whoever reported that Sam would not recover didn't know Sam. Farmer Boy tells the story.
Southern Standard
McMinnville, Tennessee – June 5, 1880
County Correspondence – East Warren (by “Farmer Boy”)
I will give you something about Uncle Sam’s case. Sam McCorkle is well known in this county, though not by his good deeds. A few days ago he went upon the mountain to help George Akeman load tanbark, and was, on his return home, fired upon by a party unknown. He was severely wounded, seven balls taking effect — six in his body, and one struck him in the head and has not been found yet. Some think it bounced out.
I therefore advise his enemies, if they want to kill him, to try what virtue there is in stones, for he has been tried often enough with lead, having had forty-two holes shot into him by different men. One of his neighbors says the only way he can be killed is by cutting his head off and putting it where he can’t find it.
The old coon is today as “peart” as a cricket. So I will close by asking you to make all crooked straight.
Farmer Boy
Mischief and Minor Offenses
Not every McCorkle case was life-and-death. Sometimes they were downright comical.
• In 1856, Robert was fined $5 for assault and battery.
• In 1866, he lost a trespass suit to his neighbor A. J. Savage and paid a mere $2.50 in damages.
• In 1882, Sam was accused of wounding and disfiguring a mule but was acquitted.
• In 1887, another assault charge against Sam was dropped when he paid court costs.
• And in 1888, Sam turned up as a witness in a sheep-stealing case — showing he wasn’t always in the defendant’s seat.
Moonshine and Retailing
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The McCorkles also dabbled in the liquor trade - usually without bothering about licenses.
In 1873, Robert was fined the princely sum of one cent (plus costs) for manufacturing spirituous liquors without bond or oath. A symbolic slap on the wrist, it still made the court books.
My 2nd great-grandfather, Dan, was a repeat offender for retailing without a license. In October 1880, he pled guilty and was fined $1 and costs. But Dan was stubborn. Over the next year, he filed motions to reduce or postpone the court costs — February 1881, May 1881 — each time continued to the next term. His persistence is almost comic: as if a single dollar fine were tolerable, but the court costs were a bridge too far.
By 1886, Robert was indicted for retailing as well, but the case was dropped. It seems moonshine was a family sideline — one cent here, one dollar there, and plenty of laughs for the neighbors.
Odd Outtakes
The courthouse records also preserve moments that are hard to classify:
• In 1872, Carroll was paid $3 for providing a pauper’s coffin.
• In 1886, Sam collected bounties for two wildcats and four fox scalps.
• In 1892, he was paid again, this time for one fox scalp.
And then there’s the gem from 1845 — when a runaway notice appeared in a McMinnville paper:
“Ran away from the subscriber a few weeks since, a bound boy by the name of Stephen McCorkle, 13 years of age. I will give the above reward for his delivery to me — but no thanks.”
– Robert McCorkle
It’s hard not to smile at the dry humor: one cent reward, but “no thanks.”
Closing Reflection
Together, these cases paint a portrait of the McCorkles as regulars in the Warren County courtroom — sometimes feared, sometimes laughed at, but never ignored. From indictments for attempted murder to fines measured in pennies, their stories remind us that our ancestors were as complex and flawed as any of us.
And the most notorious of them all was Sam — who could survive forty-two bullet holes and still fiddle a tune by the fire. In camp during the Civil War, he could bring a whole regiment to tears with the mournful strains of “Lorena.”
But that’s next week’s story. For the prompt PLAY, we’ll look back at Sam McCorkle not in the courtroom, but in the Confederate camps, where his fiddle strings carried both joy and sorrow across the Tennessee mountains.
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