By Michael Earl Simmons
Pensacola has always been a quiet Southern town on the surface. Warm Gulf breezes drift in from the bay, Spanish moss hangs heavy in the live oaks, and the waves along the waterfront sparkle in the moonlight.
But every so often, the calm breaks and turns into disruption. And on one tense night more than a century ago, the entire town held its breath as gunfire echoed across the western edge of the city.
It began with a warrant. On Tuesday afternoon, December 9, 1900, Officer A. A. Credille of the Pensacola Police Department had been ordered to arrest a man named Evans Simms, who had been accused of disorderly conduct after allegedly threatening and abusing a local woman, Mrs. Blanchard.
Simms lived in a small house near the wooded outskirts north of Perdido Wharf, at the western edge of town – probably somewhere near today’s “C” and Government Streets. When Officer Credille arrived to serve the warrant, he expected resistance. But what happened next turned into one of the most dramatic standoffs in early Pensacola history.
When Officer Credille approached the house and informed Simms of the warrant, the man refused to surrender. According to reports, Simms answered the officer with chilling defiance. “You’ll have to take my dead body!” he said.
Realizing the situation was escalating, Credille called for help. Soon, Captain Daw, Deputy Marshal L. J. Anderson, and officers Ward and Schmidt arrived on scene. They surrounded the small home and again demanded Simms surrender.
Instead, Simms barricaded himself inside. Captain Anderson stepped forward and forced the door open. That was when the shooting started. As the door swung inward, Simms took aim and fired a double-barreled shotgun from inside the darkened house. The blast struck Officer Credille in the arm. The weapon was loaded with small birdshot, but at close range the charge tore into the officer’s flesh, leaving him badly wounded.
Now, understand…law enforcement officers are – and were – professionals. But they are – and were – still human. When a fellow officer, a friend, who could have been any one of them, is shot, they become more emotional than normal. Justifiably so.
From the blindness of being outside the unlit house in the dark, the officers returned fire immediately. It was like a volley. Revolvers barked through the open doorway. But Simms, who they could not see, stayed hidden inside the house.
Word of the gunfight spread quickly. Before long, the alarm bells rang, and people began gathering in the streets. The whole town, it seemed, turned out. Sheriff Smith and several deputies arrived, along with a crowd of armed citizens. Rifles and revolvers were handed out, and the group marched toward the barricaded house.
What followed could have been much worse. Many people undoubtedly would have chosen to set the house on fire. It, of course, would have meant certain death for the occupants. Of course, Simms seemed to be choosing to remain barricaded, but there was no way of knowing if there were other occupants. So, cooler heads prevailed. What happened instead was…a siege.
For hours, shots were exchanged between the officers and the man trapped inside. Bullets tore through the thin wooden walls. The weatherboarding of the house was soon riddled with holes from every direction. At one point, Simms even shouted an invitation to Captain Daw. He declared that, if the captain came inside to “settle the matter,” they might both end up sleeping in hell together.
After nearly four hours, Captain Daw decided that it was time to force the issue. He removed his uniform coat and vest and led the final effort. Like a well-planned attack, officers smashed windows and battered the doors while others threw rocks to break openings in the walls.
The riddled house was soon so exposed that Simms could no longer remain hidden. Finally, the gunfire stopped. What seemed like hours followed, but it was actually only a few seconds. Did they get him? Was Simms dead? Did he finally pay for his actions? But…silence.
Then the door opened, followed by a voice. “I’m comin’ out,” Simms said, almost a plea in his voice. With his hands raised, Evans Simms stepped into the doorway, trusting in the professionalism and restraint of the people whom he had shot at and who had gathered to ensure that justice be done. Maybe some wanted to, but no one opened fire. Simms surrendered at approximately 11:30 that night.
It was a house riddled with bullets. By the time it was over, the small house looked like it had survived a war. Witnesses reported that hundreds of shots had been fired from every direction, leaving the sides of the building riddled with holes. So many, in fact, that the building looked as if it would collapse at any moment. Simms was indeed the only soul inside. How he survived the barrage of gunfire without having holes drilled in him was beyond imagination.
Miraculously, none of the officers was killed. Officer Credille, wounded in the arm by the shotgun blast, was taken to town, where doctors treated his injuries. Simms was placed in custody and turned over to county authorities. He faced several charges, including:
- Discharging a firearm at an officer
- Resisting arrest
- Assaulting Officer Credille
- Disorderly conduct
This was the darker side of old Pensacola. Stories like this remind us that even in the early days of Pensacola, when dirt roads laid out the town, and lanterns lit the night, law enforcement officers faced dangers very similar to those of today. A simple warrant service could turn into a deadly confrontation in seconds. And sometimes, as on that night long ago, the entire town became part of the drama.
The streets were quieter back then.
But the danger was real.
If you enjoy these forgotten stories from Pensacola’s darker past, you’ll find many more here at Sweet Tea Murders. And soon, you’ll be able to hear some of them told live.
Inside a building that once held prisoners behind iron bars, right in the heart of downtown Pensacola. For more information, go to sweetteamurders.com to purchase tickets for “Sweet Tea Murders LIVE: An evening of Pensacola Crime Stories.”
Because in the South, the tea is sweet…
…but the stories are criminal.
Michael Earl Simmons