125,000 to 1

He knew both of the pistols worked perfectly; Richard had tested them. He wanted to make sure he had a backup, just in case, when he tried to kill the man that denied him his place as rightful air to the British throne. As it was, his enemy Andy, the man he wanted to kill, had reduced him to merely painting houses for a living. Moreover, because Andy interfered in the banking system, Richard was kept poor. It was more than he could bear; it was time to take his revenge on Andy.

He knew where he would be able to find Andy; a large funeral was about to be held for a politician who had died, and Andy would be in attendance; Richard would accost him there, or as he left the funeral. And so Richard prepared himself, wearing his best formal clothing, checking - and rechecking - both pistols. Should one fail to fire, he could quickly draw out and shoot the other at his enemy, and do so quickly, at point-blank range. He had been carrying them around with him for several days, in the off chance he might catch Andy out in public, and destroy him right then and there. Richard was dressed warmly; it was a damp dreary day, and in late January, it was cold; it had been this way for several days. The weather was much like the state of his emotions - cold and damp. But this day, he would get revenge, finally, on the man who denied him his rightful place on the throne, the man who kept him doing so lowly a job as painting houses, the man that through his meddling with banks, kept him poor. He would pay with his life.

Now it was the day, and it was the time. Richard likely saw Andy enter the rotunda, where the politician's body lay in state. He would wait outside, and then pounce on Andy. Inside, Andy and his contingent paid their respects, and then left down the Capitol steps…this was the time, this was the moment. Richard was part of the crowd, or hiding behind a column - history isn't sure which - watching the departing dignitaries leave, waiting for his moment.

Here came Andy, with his group. Richard could feel his pulse quicken, his hand tighten around the pistol; Andy was coming right towards him! Within three paces of Andy, Richard pulls the pistol out of his pocket - a derringer - leaps out of the crowd, aims with a shaky hand at Andy's chest, and fires! A loud crack is heard by all - but while the percussion cap went off, the pistol's charge does not ignite! Andy, realizing what is happening, raises his cane to strike at the assailant; Richard drops the misfired pistol and reaches for the backup. He takes a few steps back from the cane-wielding Andy, and fires! Once again, the pistol misfires! Andy, a man of advanced age at 67, and replete with anger, cane-whips Richard furiously, as Andy's contingent - who included the legendary frontiersman, Davy Crockett - subdues the would-be assassin and removes the pistol. The assassination attempt that was, wasn't. Richard would never be punished for the assignation attempt; you don't charge a man who believes he is Richard III, who had died in 1485. You see, Richard Lawrence really was just an unemployed house painter, a mentally ill Englishman who came to America to kill Andy, the man he believed was his clerk.

Latter-day mathematicians calculated that the chances of those two pistols misfiring were 1 in 125,000. Researchers at the famous Smithsonian Institute later tested the pistols, and they did both fire - the first time. Andy, unhurt, but certainly shaken, was now paranoid that his political enemies were out to kill him, and had put Richard up to the assassination attempt.

Andy was no stranger to violence; he had a scar on his head due to the blow from the saber of a British officer while he was 13, and a bullet was lodged near his heart, the result of one of the many duels he had been in. The cane he wielded so deftly in this assassination attempt was due to practice. Years before, Andy had advised a young man on how to use a cane in combat. A cane should not be swung at head level - that was easy to deflect; rather one should “take the stick so [held like a spear] and punch him in the stomach.” He described having once fought a man that way in Tennessee: “Sir, it doubled him up. He fell at my feet, and I stamped on him.” That is the story of the assassination attempt that wasn't. Andy lived on to the ripe age of 78, finally succumbing to chronic tuberculosis, dropsy, and heart failure - but not an assassin's bullet. You've seen at least one picture of Andy; in fact, you might have his picture in your wallet right now. For the man who was almost killed by a deranged assassin wielding two guns that should have discharged, but didn't, who endured many duels and could so deftly wield a cane is the man on the Twenty-dollar bill, our 7th president, "Andy" - Andrew Jackson.

Now that's a terrific story.