Imagine the scene: a gray, damp day in Washington D.C., January 30, 1835. A solemn procession files out of the U.S. Capitol Building following a congressman’s funeral. At its head is the President of the United States, Andrew Jackson. Suddenly, a figure emerges from behind a column on the East Portico, raises a pistol just feet from the president’s chest, and pulls the trigger.

A sharp click echoes in the humid air, but there is no shot. The percussion cap had detonated, but the gunpowder failed to ignite. Before anyone can fully react, the assailant drops the first pistol, pulls a second, aims, and fires again. Another click. Another misfire.

What followed was not a sigh of relief from a protected statesman, but the roar of an enraged warrior. The 67-year-old president, frail but ferocious, lunged at his would-be assassin, raising his hickory walking cane high and bringing it down upon the man until a crowd, including the legendary Davy Crockett, could intervene. This was the first-ever assassination attempt on a U.S. President, and it unfolded in a manner as wild and unpredictable as the man at its center.

A President Known as “King Andrew”

To understand why someone would want to kill Andrew Jackson, one must understand the man and his times. Jackson was not a universally beloved leader; he was one of the most polarizing figures in American history. His opponents saw him as a tyrant, a demagogue who wielded executive power with an iron fist, earning him the derisive nickname “King Andrew I.”

His presidency was defined by bitter political battles. The most significant of these was the “Bank War”, a ruthless campaign against the Second Bank of the United States. Jackson viewed the bank as a corrupt institution that favored the wealthy elite at the expense of the common man. He vetoed the bill to renew its charter and set about dismantling it, a move that sent shockwaves through the American economy and enraged his political enemies in the Whig Party.

Jackson’s aggressive policies, from the Indian Removal Act to his confrontation with South Carolina during the Nullification Crisis, created a political atmosphere thick with animosity. He was a man who inspired both fierce loyalty and profound hatred. It was out of this toxic political climate that his attacker emerged, though not in the way anyone expected.

The Troubled Mind of Richard Lawrence

The man with the two misfiring pistols was not a political operative or a hired gun for Jackson’s rivals. He was Richard Lawrence, an unemployed house painter in his early thirties who had emigrated from England. For years, Lawrence had been descending into a world of delusion. He was known around Washington D.C. for his strange behavior, immaculate dress, and muttered pronouncements.

Lawrence harbored a grand and bizarre delusion: he believed he was, in fact, King Richard III of England, the long-dead monarch. Furthermore, he believed that the U.S. government owed him a vast sum of money. In his warped reality, President Jackson was the sole obstacle preventing him from claiming his royal inheritance. He became convinced that Jackson’s war on the Bank of the United States had caused the devaluation of his “royal funds” and that with Jackson dead, the money would finally be his and he could ascend to his rightful throne.

For weeks, Lawrence stalked the President, looking for an opportunity. The funeral of South Carolina Representative Warren R. Davis provided the perfect moment, a public event where security was an afterthought.

A One-in-125,000 Chance

The core of this incredible story lies in the spectacular failure of Lawrence’s weapons. He used two single-shot percussion pistols, a common and generally reliable firearm of the day. For one to misfire was unusual; for two, back-to-back, was almost unheard of. The humid, damp weather on that January day is often credited with dampening the gunpowder.

When the pistols were later test-fired by experts, they worked perfectly every time. A 1990s analysis by Smithsonian researchers calculated the statistical probability of both pistols misfiring under those conditions. Their conclusion was astounding: the odds were approximately 1 in 125,000.

For many at the time, this was no mere coincidence. Jackson, a deeply religious man, was certain that he had been saved by the hand of Providence. “A special providence had shielded him”, he later wrote, convinced that God had intervened to protect him and the nation.

“Old Hickory” Fights Back

Jackson’s reaction to the attempt is as legendary as the misfires themselves. He was not a man to shrink from a fight. A veteran of the Revolutionary War, a famed general from the War of 1812, and a participant in numerous duels, Jackson’s body already carried two bullets he had taken in previous altercations. His nickname, “Old Hickory”, was a testament to his toughness.

True to form, his first instinct was not self-preservation, but attack. Eyewitnesses described the aged President, his face contorted with rage, charging Lawrence with his cane raised. He managed to land several blows before Navy Lieutenant Thomas Gedney and Tennessee Representative Davy Crockett, who were part of the crowd, wrestled Lawrence to the ground and disarmed him. Jackson had to be physically restrained from continuing to beat the subdued man.

The Trial and Lingering Conspiracy

Richard Lawrence’s trial was a spectacle. It lasted just one day. The prosecution, led by “Star-Spangled Banner” author Francis Scott Key, laid out the facts of the attack. The defense, however, argued that Lawrence was insane and not responsible for his actions. Lawrence confirmed their case by interrupting the proceedings several times, shouting that he was the King of England and Rome and demanding his rights.

After just five minutes of deliberation, the jury returned a verdict: not guilty by reason of insanity. Lawrence spent the remainder of his life in government institutions, dying in 1861.

Jackson, however, was never satisfied with this conclusion. He was utterly convinced that Lawrence was a pawn in a larger conspiracy orchestrated by his political foes. He publicly accused a rival senator, George Poindexter of Mississippi, of hiring Lawrence. An investigation eventually cleared Poindexter, but Jackson went to his grave believing his enemies had tried to murder him.

A Shattered Illusion

The failed assassination of Andrew Jackson was a bizarre footnote in a turbulent presidency, but its significance is profound. It shattered the nation’s belief that its leader was somehow above such violence. For the first time, Americans had to confront the reality that their president could be a target.

The event perfectly encapsulates the man himself: a leader so divisive he inspired an assassination attempt, so tough he fought back with his cane, and so fortunate—or divinely protected—that a one-in-125,000 chance saved his life. It set a dangerous precedent, reminding the nation that the stability of its leadership could be threatened in a single, violent moment—a lesson America would tragically relearn just thirty years later at Ford’s Theatre.