He was the one kid nobody could bully. Sure, they tried. Andy Jackson seemed like an easy target. He was the new kid in town. Scrawny, freckle faced, and with an unruly mop of bright red hair, Andy stood out. He had a high-pitched voice; a childhood disability made him drool. But he refused to be pushed around.
From an early age, Andy liked nothing more than a good scrap. He was constantly getting into wrestling matches with other boys. Although he rarely won, he developed a reputation for toughness. “I could throw him three times out of four,” one of his opponents remarked, “but he never stayed throwed!”
Eventually, Andy would take on the biggest bully of them all—King George III of England.
In 1779, when Andy was twelve years old, troops loyal to the British king—called Tories—arrived in South Carolina to rid the land of American rebels who favored independence. The fearsome British commander “Bloody Ban” Tarleton and his Tory horsemen roamed the countryside around Andy’s hometown, taking prisoners, seizing property, and laying waste to everything in their path. Andy’s brother Hugh, one of the patriots who tried to beat back the British assault, was killed at the Battle of Stono Ferry.
When Andy heard the news, he vowed to avenge his brother’s death. But when he tried to enlist in the militia, he was told he was too young. He had to wait a whole year until he was allowed to take up arms. His brother Robert signed up too. The two boys were issued pistols and musket rifles and sent out with the rebel forces.
One night, Andy and Robert were asked to stand guard at a farmhouse where an important patriot officer was spending the night.
In the morning, Andy saw Bloody Ban’s mounted soldiers gathering for an attack. He pulled his pistol and fired a warning shot, giving the men inside a chance to escape. But then Bloody Ban’s soldiers started coming directly for him and Robert!
Outnumbered and outgunned, the Jackson brothers were forced to retreat. Leaving their muskets behind, they headed into the deep woods behind the farmhouse.
For the next few days, Andy and his brother hid in the vast forest. It was a lot like a camping trip—except they didn’t have tents, sleeping bags, food, or fresh water. They survived by eating nuts and berries. They slept underneath trees and rocks, and they often had to flee the British troops searching the forest.
Of course, even two very smart kids were no match for an entire army of British soldiers. The boys grew weaker and weaker. Eventually they were captured and hauled back to the farmhouse as prisoners.
When they arrived, they found the place in shambles. British soldiers had stolen all the valuables they could find and broke what they could not carry. Bloody Ban had returned to the comfort of his headquarters, leaving an especially cruel lieutenant in his place. He barked orders at them:
Andy and Robert did as they were told. The officer then commanded Andy to clean his muddy boots. But Andy, who had never backed down from a fight, refused to comply. He looked the man square in the eye.
The officer flew into a rage. He drew his sword and struck at the helpless prisoner. Fortunately, Andy was experienced in the art of self-defense. He threw up his hand to protect himself and managed to fend off the brunt of the blow. The sword cut a deep gash on Andy’s forehead, leaving a scar that he would carry for the rest of his life.
The British soldiers were tempted to execute Andy on the spot, but they forced him into service instead. They ordered him to lead them to the house of another troublesome rebel named Thompson. Andy agreed, but he had a trick up his sleeve. Instead of taking his captors via the most direct route, he chose a circuitous road that could be seen a half mile from Thompson’s front window. When the British soldiers finally arrived, they discovered Thompson had already fled—with a half-mile head start—thanks to Andy.
The soldiers were sick of being fooled by this thirteen-year-old upstart. They stripped Andy and Robert of their jackets and shoes and forced them to march forty-five miles—barefoot—to a prison camp at Camden, South Carolina. The brothers were not allowed any food. The only drink came from the rain that pounded them for the entire trip.
When they arrived at the prison, the brothers were penned up in a large cell packed with other captured patriots. No one had blankets; there was no medicine and precious little food. Baths were unheard of. The whole place stunk.
The unsanitary conditions soon caught up with the Jackson boys. Both contracted smallpox, a contagious and often deadly disease. Robert’s face broke out in spots, and though Andy’s case was not as dire, he feared that he too would succumb to the so-called Speckled Monster. Suddenly, death in prison seemed a very real possibility.
But Betty Jackson had learned of her sons’ capture and hurried to Camden to beg the British to let them go. Released into her care, the gaunt and feverish boys were slung over two horses and rushed home in another driving rainstorm. It was a miracle they survived.
Andy managed to recover from his illness, but Robert was not so lucky. He died two days after they arrived home. Even worse, Andy’s mother came down with smallpox too and soon passed away. Barely fourteen years old, Andy Jackson was now a war hero, a wounded veteran, and an orphan.
For the rest of his life, Andrew Jackson harbored a grudge against the British for the losses he suffered as a boy during the Revolutionary War. When the two sides squared off again, in the War of 1812, Jackson settled the score by leading the American forces to a decisive victory in the Battle of New Orleans. Dubbed “Old Hickory” for his tough-as-tree-bark reputation, he rode a wave of fame all the way to the presidency in 1829.
As U.S. president, Andrew Jackson continued to defy authority and pick fights with anyone who disagreed with him. His combative nature won him lots of passionate followers—and many bitter enemies as well. One thing his allies and adversaries agreed on was that he would never back down from a fight—a lesson the bullies of his boyhood had learned long ago.
The first time he tried to put on a pair of pants, RUTHERFORD B. HAYES stumbled and fell into hot coals.
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HERBERT HOOVER once ate nothing but pears for two whole days. He got so sick that he refused to eat another pear for more than thirty years.
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HARRY TRUMAN broke his collarbone while combing his hair. (He fell off his chair.) Another time, he slammed a cellar door on his foot and accidentally sliced off the tip of his left big toe. Fortunately a doctor was able to reattach it.
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DWIGHT EISENHOWER accidentally stabbed his brother in the eye with a whittling knife.
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RICHARD NIXON conked one of his best friends on the head with a toy hatchet. He was angry because the boy caught more tadpoles than he did. The boy carried a scar for the rest of his life.
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JIMMY CARTER shot his own sister in the backside with a BB gun after she threw a wrench at him.
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When BILL CLINTON was a kindergartner, he broke his leg jumping rope. The rope wasn’t moving, just hanging limply between a tree and a swing set. All the other kids had no problem clearing it, but heavy-set Billy was wearing cowboy boots and couldn’t get any lift. His heel caught on the rope, he went crashing to the ground, and he broke his leg. For the next two months, he lay flat on his back in a hospital bed with his leg suspended. When he went home, his parents bought him a present: a brand-new bicycle. But Billy wouldn’t ride without training wheels for fear he would topple over and reinjure himself. He did not ride a bike again until he was twenty-two years old.
