Bennett, Thomas

"FANCY TOM"

Born:
Died:  1850
Buried

Was one of the citizens we gained when the capital was removed to this place.  Tom had been connected with the seat of government at Corydon from the birth of the State, and considered himself one of its institutions, and his presence indispensable at its capital.
    Thomas Bennett, which was his proper name before he came to Indianapolis was a professor of the "tonsorial art," practically he was a better cook.  The way in which he got the prefix to his name was this:  He was living with Governor Ray and the Governor sent him to his neighbor, Mr. Wilkins, to borrow a basket of corn; Tom asked for fancy corn, as he wanted it to feed the Governor's horse.  From that day he was known as "Fancy Tom."  His complexion was a dark mahogany, or horse chestnut; he wore his wool plaited quite around his head, the plaits about two inches in length, and resembled very much to "pigtail" tobacco so much used at that time.  He had a very effeminate voice, and were you to hear without seeing him, you would take it to be a female's.
    Tom had a barber shop on Washington street, north side, between Pennsylvania street and the alley west.  One morning one of his old legislative customers that represented one of the Ohio river counties, named "Tadlock, called in to be shaved; after Tom had complimented his customer, as was his wont to do on all occasions, he invited him to be seated in his tonsorial chair--this man had one leg off above the knee, which was supplied by a block of wood fastened with a leather strip, which, for the convenience of Tom and the comfort of himself, he took off while the professor was operating upon his phiz.
    Tom was very much afraid of Indians and his customer had no very high opinion of them himself.  Tom had shaved one side of his face and had come round to the other side, so that his back was to the front door, and while he was flourishing his brush over the man's face in fine tonsorial style, very much engaged in conversation, dilating upon the future of the new capital, four or five Indians, unobserved either by him or his customer, come to the door, (an Indian hardly ever passes an open door without looking in).  A large and finely painted Indian put his hands on each side of the door, the others were peeping under his arms; Tom was between them and his customer, and in order to see what he was doing the big one gave one of their peculiar ughs.  Tom turned around, and as soon as he saw the Indians dropped his professional tools and cried out, "oh, blessed ingins," he made a spring for and through the back window, crying as he went "oh, blessed ingins."  The Indians not understanding his movements followed to the window to see what he intended.  Mr. Tadlock began to think he was in no very enviable situation, alone in the room with the Indians; he made a spring in the direction of his wooden leg, as he could not get out of the way without it; in this jump he fell to the floor, which caused his nose to bleed profusely, but he got hold of his leg and hobbled into the street, crying "ingins" and "murder" at every step.  The blood on his face and the presence of the Indians alarmed those that were attracted to the place.  The noise and cry of murder had attracted all the whites in the neighborhood and several more Indians, that happened to be in town, to the place, all of whom were alarmed until the frightened legislator became composed enough to explain.  In the meantime Tom had jumped over the fence and ran down the alley west until he came to Mr. Ungles' yard near Mr. Hawkins; tavern; he ran into Mr. Ungles' house, crying murder and "ingins" at every step.  Mrs. Ungles had a pan of breakfast dishes in her hands at the time Tom entered, and his abrupt enterance [sic] so frightened her that she dropped the pan and broke all her dishes.  After things became more quiet a search was made for Tom, but he was no where to be found.  Mr. Hawkins had an attic room that he did not often use; that night it was necessary to put some strangers up there to sleep; when they went into the room Tom stuck his head out from under the bed, and inquired if the "ingins had killed many people."
    Tom lived to see many Indians after that, and died in 1850.  He was found sitting in the kitchen of the Capital House with a boot in one hand and shoe-brush in the other.

Nowland, John H. B., "Early Reminiscences of Indianapolis, with Short Biographical Sketches of Its Early Citizens, and of a Few of the Prominent Business Men of the Present Day," 1870, pp. 169-171.