What began as a routine day on Capitol Hill turned into a scene reminiscent of the Old South when a quarrel over paternity testing degenerated into a duel.
The U.S. House of Representatives was debating a provision on mandatory testing for single mothers receiving public benefits when one legislator accused another of funding such a procedure for his own children. What followed was as retrograde a spectacle as we’ve witnessed for several generations.
First, the aggrieved, Rep. John Towney, D-N.Y., denounced his accuser, Rep. Matthew Flynne, R-Fla., as a “false and slanderous poltroon.” Then he demanded that his detractor withdraw the offense. When Mr. Flynne refused, Towney challenged his antagonist to “resolve this in single combat.” To the astonishment of all in attendance, Flynne accepted.
No one knew if the two men were in earnest, but at dawn the next day they appeared on the rolling grasslands of Bladensburg, a field near Washington D.C. that has witnessed many such affairs of honor.
Mr. Towney, tall and slim, attired in a sport coat and riding boots, was seconded by his close colleague in the House, Rep. Aldridge Harrington, D-R.I., while Mr. Flynne, the more robust of the two, dressed in camouflage fatigues, was supported by his chief of staff, Alvin Black.
Through his second, Mr. Towney demanded an apology. With none forthcoming, the two resolved to let God decide who was righteous. Meanwhile, spectators filmed the confrontation on their cell phones to ensure its justness.
After an exchange of salutations, the combatants cast lots for position, with Mr. Towney winning the coin toss and selecting to place the sun on his left and a tepid wind behind him. Mr. Flynne selected revolvers and loaded them with a single bullet. The parties being placed at their stations, exactly ten paces apart, Rep. Charles Madison, D-Va., the Speaker of the House, gave them a final opportunity to settle their differences through peaceful means.
“I have no desire to kill you,” said Mr. Flynne.
“No matter, I came to kill you,” rejoined Mr. Towney.
“Very well then, let us commence.”
The Rev. Percy Smith, who leads the blessing each morning in the House, attempted to intervene, arguing that it is illegal and a sin to commit murder, but the opponents were urged on by their seconds and by several other legislators present, all of whom said there must be resolution or the dispute may fester and grow.
Mr. Madison asked each man to confirm his willingness to proceed by declaring himself “present.” When each responded loudly and clearly in the affirmative, he withdrew from the line of fire and told them to “proceed when they please.”
Mr. Towney, who is typically of a more even-tempered demeanor, drew first. He steadied his pistol only long enough to aim and then discharged it, knocking Mr. Flynne’s combat helmet from his head.
Mr. Flynne, who is noted for his quick wit, vituperative rhetoric, and hyperbolic reactions, next drew, but instead of firing upon his adversary, he raised his weapon into the air and defoliated a nearby tree.
Onlookers—of which there were many, including several relations of both men, journalists, and Civil War reenactors—all breathed a sigh of relief, thinking the affair should have had a purgative effect upon the combatants, but Mr. Towney remained unsatisfied.
“Will you restore my private virtues?” he said.
“Only our Lord may do so,” replied Mr. Flynne.
“Then let us engage again.”
As they reloaded, a second peacemaker, apparently a relation to both men, tried to mediate, arguing that as distant cousins the two owed each other a truce and time to barrow up their feelings. Mr. Flynne is joined in matrimony to Mr. Towney’s half cousin.
“Reconciliation is impossible,” reported Towney and turned again to his adversary.
We understand that the quarrel originated in domestic circumstances of peculiar delicacy, which we forbear to particularize. However, several online postings repeated the offense. Women were barred from the field to protect their sensibilities, including the subject of the dispute, Mrs. Towney, who has remained in hiding.
The second recounter began as the first, with Mr. Towney firing and missing, again high, but with apparent intent of injury.
However, Mr. Flynne, a combat veteran and recipient of the Silver Star, this time responded with a complimentary discharge, striking Mr. Towney dead center in the chest and knocking him to the ground.
Whereupon Mr. Flynne’s expression changed from grim resolve to earnest regret as he advanced upon his colleague and relation, begging his pardon and forgiveness, not only for the injury his bullet caused but for the enmity it evinced.
It was plain to all that the wound would prove fatal, but a surgeon on hand provided succor to the injured man, who was taken to hospital. His condition as of press time remained grave.
Once, early in this country’s history, duels were taken to be a bloody necessity, a way for gentlemen to settle disputes, and these fashionable murders remain a part of legend and lore. Alexander Hamilton, a founding father, died from a bullet fired by his longtime rival, Aaron Burr, and U.S. President Andrew Jackson is reported to have participated in as many as 100 trials, at least one fatal.
Typically, the winner in such affairs suffered no more than a public reprimand, with law enforcement reluctant to prosecute instances of mutual combat, despite statutes forbidding them on most national, state, and local registers, including that governing this infamous plot of ground.
Nonetheless, these recent events will be much regretted and are sure to generate years of anguish by both estimable families. Before removing himself from the field of combat, Mr. Flynne resolved to retire from public life and to instead devote himself to works of charity so as to atone for this “dishonor to my kin and my country.”
However, the capital police took him away in handcuffs.
Bio:
David Hagerty is the author of the Duncan Cochrane mystery series, which chronicles crime and dirty politics in his hometown of Chicago. Real events inspired all four novels, including the murder of a politician’s daughter six weeks before election day (They Tell Me You Are Wicked), a series of sniper killings in the city’s most notorious housing project (They Tell Me You Are Crooked), the Tylenol poisonings (They Tell Me You Are Brutal), and the false convictions of ten men on Illinois’ death row (They Tell Me You Are Cunning). He has also published more than 50 short stories online and in print.