Excerpt from the Nov. 1928 issue of The Builder Magazine on Ephraim Kibby.
On a bleak November morning of 1794, a stalwart figure in backwoodsman garb stepped with soft, noiseless tread onto the porch of a tavern in Cincinnati, being probably of a mind to indulge in something designed to warm and cheer the inner man before proceeding to business which had brought him to town.
Hilarious sounds and loud talking reached his ears, convincing the traveler that “first drink time” was already part of the history. About to enter, above the roaring voices, he heard the boastful proclamation, “I am the best man in Ohio!”.
Before anyone inside could take issue with the speaker, if indeed any were so inclined, the door whipped open, and the newcomer demanded in ringing tones to know what was said and who said it. – “Captain Kibbey!” went up a shout in recognition, then silence.
From among the mixed crowd representative of a border town that filled the place, a tall English officer, evidently a stranger in the vicinity, proceeded to a cool inspection of him who dared challenge his claim to the title mentioned above. He faced a man of forty, inch for inch his equal in height, dressed in picturesque fringed deerskin, splendidly proportioned, an American frontiersman, Captain Ephraim Kibbey, leader of Wayne’s scouts in the campaign against the savages then recently closed.
“I say I am the best man in Ohio,” repeated the Englishman, undaunted by his survey.
“If you had said you were as good a man as there is in Ohio, there would be no room for dispute, but as it is, I dispute it,” was the response of the American.
“Captain Kibbey, step into the room,” suggested the other, and opened a door which led into the long room of the tavern. The captain was prompt to do this, followed inside by his opponent and all the onlookers, intent on seeing the “fun.”
The Britisher, undoubtedly a man of experience and reputation in dueling, had things all prepared, for on the table lay two long flintlock pistols, primed and ready for use. Pointing, he ordered, Captain Kibbey, take one of them”. At Kibbey’s ready compliance, he picked up the other with the words, “Name your time and distance.”
Removing the handkerchief from his neck, the American held to one corner with his left hand and cocking the weapon in his right, reached the other end of the handkerchief for the Englishman to take and likewise prepare, at that moment exclaiming, “Here is the distance and now is the time!”
Completely taken aback at such unusual, if not positively unheard of, conditions, his rival wilted, whereupon Kibbey reversed his pistol and with the butt knocked him to the floor.
At the same time, the house rang with shouts of “Hurrah for Captain Kibbey!”
*Editors Note
I have a cat named Captain Kibbey. I’ll leave it to you to guess his personality and temperament.
David M. Cox
