Tambour Yockel, Part 1
[as we approach Halloween, I’m reposting some spooky tales from an earlier version of this blog]
In the years after the Revolutionary War, fear gripped tightly around the small Salzbarrick (Salisbury) area nestled on the slope of Lehigh Mountain. A local farmer nicknamed Wild Bill had just been laid to rest in the cemetery there, but Bill was an awfully cantankerous man — not one to shy away from a fight, and indeed the instigator of many quarrels with his neighbors. Some were glad that Bill was finally in his grave.
A few days after his funeral, the local men gathered — as they usually did — in the tavern to gossip and drink and “talk big.” Naturally, the topic of conversation that day centered on Wild Bill, as they each recounted their own run-ins with the belligerent man. As the night wore on only a few diehards remained at the tavern, drunker than before and still cursing the name and miserable life of their recently departed neighbor. One of them was a former soldier, a drummer in the war, known as Tambour Yockel in Pennsylvania Dutch, “Drummer Jake.”. Yockel had listened silently to the stories about Wild Bill until suddenly he reddened and erupted with anger. He wasn’t afraid of a fight either and had once fought Bill, but was soundly beaten and still bore the scars from that fight. “To hell with Bill!” he exclaimed — “And that’s where he is. Surely, he’s communing with the Devil now!”
The night continued on, but Yockel was still fuming in the corner as he nursed another whisky and traced his old scars with a finger. “I’ll fight him one last time,” he slurred. “I’m going to wake him up from his peaceful slumber and give him the last beating he’ll ever get!” Yockel stormed out of the tavern — a small troupe of drunkards in tow.
The early hours after midnight were quiet, save the loud outbursts from Yockel as he clambered up the mountain toward the cemetery. “Come out, Bill! Show yourself and fight me!,” he yelled as he stumbled around the cemetery toward the freshly dug grave. “Come out and fight, you coward! Send your new friend the Devil, too, and I’ll beat him as well!” His friends held back — curious, but unwilling to trod the cemetery at night, especially now that their friend had summoned Old Scratch himself. Suddenly, they heard a scream. Then there was the sound of thumping, of clothing tearing, of bones breaking, more screams, then the sound of flesh being gouged. Then silence. The onlookers ran.
When finally the sun rose, the curious ventured back to the cemetery. There they found Yockel dead in a pool of blood. His limbs torn from his body, his clothing ripped apart and smelling of brimstone. Surrounding the body were deep impressions of cloven hoofprints in the damp soil.
Gravestone in the Jerusalem Eastern Salisbury Church cemetery
That all is to have happened at the Morgenland Kirche (today known as the Jerusalem Eastern Salisbury Church), which was founded in 1759. It was always a smaller congregation and was at first just a simple log church. But the congregation is a mystery — and that is what gives life to the circumstances surrounding the death of Drummer Jake.
Gereon, 10 October 2025, The Bullfrog Inn
