The Famous Case of "Old Drum"

By David DiBenedetto

It’s easy to miss—a bronze statue of a black and tan hound on the Johnson County Courthouse lawn in Warrensburg, Mo. But the dog, called Old Drum, has a legacy that will last longer than that statue of metal and stone. The death of Old Drum, you see, inspired a typically loquacious lawyer to deliver one of the finest speeches ever about the loyalty of a hunting dog, and in doing so coined the phrase “man’s best friend.”

Old Drum was known around the area as an exceptional hound, with a fine nose and a thundering voice. But one night in 1869 when he wandered onto the neighboring property of a livestock farmer Old drum was fatally shot. Old Drum’s owner, Charles Burden decided to sue his neighbor, and the case eventually found its way into the Supreme Court. The highly charged and emotional trial would rest on the closing argument of George Vest, who was representing Old Drum’s master. Here’s what he had to say:

Gentlemen of the jury, the best friend a man has in this world may turn against him and become his enemy. His son or daughter whom he has reared with loving care may prove ungrateful. Those who are nearest and dearest to us—those whom we trust with our happiness and good name—may become traitors in their faith. The money that a man has he may lose. It flies away from him, perhaps when he needs it most. A man's reputation may be sacrificed in a moment of ill-considered action. The people who are prone to fall on their knees to do us honor when success is with us may be the first to throw the stone of malice when failure settles its cloud upon our heads. The one absolute, unselfish friend that man can have in this selfish world—the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous—is his dog.

Gentlemen of the jury, a man's dog stands by him in prosperity and poverty, in health and sickness. He will sleep on the cold ground, where the wintry winds blow, and the snow drives fiercely, if only he can be near his master's side. He will kiss the hand that has no food to offer; he will lick the wounds and sores that come in encounter with the roughness of the world. He guards the sleep of his pauper master as if he were a prince. When all other friends desert, he remains. When riches take wings and reputation falls to pieces, he is as constant in his love as the sun in its journey through the heavens.

If fortune drives the master forth an outcast in the world, friendless and homeless, the faithful dog asks no higher privilege than that of accompanying him to guard against danger, to fight against his enemies. And when the last scene of all comes, and death takes the master in its embrace, and his body is laid away in the cold ground, no matter if all other friends pursue their way, there by his graveside will the noble dog be found, his head between his paws, his eyes sad but open in alert watchfulness, faithful and true even to death.

That, my friends, is one fine piece of oratory. One fine dedication to all dogs that that have come and gone. And it made me think anew of all the reasons that I love my pup. I imagine it did the same to you?