USA > Georgia > Jackson County > The early history of Jackson county, Georgia. "The writings of the late G.J.N. Wilson, embracing some of the early history of Jackson county". The first settlers, 1784; formation and boundaries to the present time; records of the Talasee colony > Part 18
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Gendelph LeCain was of French descent, belonged to an aristo- cratic family, and had a liberal education. His character for truth and fair dealing was never called in question, which, to- gether with his immense physical powers, gave him a hearty wel- come into a new country where hardy manhood was required. Coming from Albemarle County, Va., the family claimed much friendship for Thomas Jefferson, the sage of Monticello; and Mr. LeCain insisted on doing things much like Mr. Jefferson did. For instance, he wore red "breeches," and hitched his horse to a short peg driven in the ground for the purpose, as Mr. Jefferson is said to have done, even in front of the capitol at Washington. The entire family was greatly devoted to each other, and when Mr. and Mrs. Brantly moved away Mr. and Mrs. LeCain went with them. Here was another great loss to the county, and the places which once knew them so well knew them no more.
William Dunson, having shown himself to be a successful farmer and a substantial citizen, moved to Troup County, Georgia, in the early thirties, where he became a large planter. He returned only one time, and wearing an elegant suit of black broadcloth which cost him $14 per yard, he made a fine appearance. Though proud, he was not haughty, and those who lived near him said he was
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"one of the best neighbors in the world." He left four sons here, and some of their descendents are still living in the county.
It is curious to know that Linton Dunson, a great-grandson of William Dunson, married Miss Sallie Rogers, a great grand- daughter of Rev. James Rogers, and they, too, live here.
Thus the race still continues, but all the old folks are gone. Life is a continual stream ever freighted with passengers bound for eternity ! How vast the sweep of its dismal tide from Abel, the first passenger, to the last who "shall take his chamber in the silent halls of death."
George Wilson, a near neighbor and close friend of William Dunson, was a native of Dublin, Ireland, where he was educated. He came from Iredell County, N. C., to this part of the country in 1784, only a few months after the first settlement at Tumbling Shoals. He was a master workman at almost any trade known to the times, and only a few years ago a chimney which he built was torn down by an unappreciative hand. I have heard it said that the men who located Jefferson were drunk; but *George Wil- son, James Pittman and Josiah Easley, the committee who located the place, did not drink at all, were never drunk in their lives. I prophesy that within the next decade Jefferson will become one of the most beautiful towns in the country. The contour of the land and the ready water supply are eminently favorable to this view. A reasonable sum of money at the disposal of a competent engineer is all that is needed. This little digression is not at all in the way, because it gives the truth.
George Wilson was also largely instrumental in the organiza- tion of Sandy Creek Presbyterian church, and was one of its first Ruling Elders. W. T. Brantly and all the LeCain family were members of that church. Being elected a delegate to the conven- tion called to revise the constitution of the state, he at once be- came a leader, and finally wrote and signed the revision made.
A giant himself, he was greatly interested in the Dunson log- rolling, and dearly loved to see "the boys," as he called them, put forth their strength. He clapped his hands and shouted when he
*George Wilson, James Pittman with Joseph Humphries were delegates to the Constitutional Convention of 1798, from this county .- Ed.
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saw that Idalone LeCain's last step with her heavy burden was just as firm and steady as her first one had been, and that she was still unconquered, even by so powerful a man as his Brother Brantly.
The big poplar log on the flat rock was also of much interest to Mr. Wilson, and so was Franklin College, at Athens, then strug- gling under great difficulties, into existence. By Mr. Dunson's ready permission, he had the log sawed into lumber with what was called a rip-saw. A pit was dug near the rock, the log was rolled over it, one man stood in the pit, two or more upon a plat- form above, and pulled and pushed a long saw, having horizontal handles, up and down until a line was sawed. This was a slow and laborious process; and consequently, then, when timber was in the way, it was a much more difficult matter to get sawed lumber than it is now when there is so little timber to be found.
Being a college man himself, George Wilson wanted to do something for Franklin College, not in a financial way, but as a memorial of it. Accordingly, he sent three cart-loads of his poplar lumber to Athens, and it became some part of a house which was then being built on the college campus. As far back as the fifties, I made many efforts to trace this lumber further, but was unable to find any part of it. He also sent a fourth cart- load to Jefferson, and Mr. Brantly made a loft in his house with it. I stood under it when I made my "distracted" recitation from Scott, and hence my desire to know what became of the house.
In old age, when the machinery was run down, and not of dis- ease, George Wilson died, and was buried in sight of the flat rock on which he stood and shouted for very gladness when Idalone LeCain achieved her victory.
Five years after his burial an old white-haired man appeared in the community and said that he wanted to see George Wilson. When told that he was dead he sat down and cried bitterly. He at last became calm, and by request was conducted to the grave. There his tears again began to flow and nothing could induce him to leave the grave. He remained there until next morning, when George Wilson, Jr., went to look after him. Still refusing to
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leave, George carried him in his arms to his house, where he was induced to eat a little. He soon returned to the grave, and sitting flat upon the ground, remained there all day, and the next morning was found dead on the spot where he had last been seen in a sit- ting posture. And he, too, lies buried there in an unknown grave.
Many efforts were made to get the old man to talk ; but he paid no attention whatever to any question asked after the first one was answered. His long white hair reached to his shoulders, and when the wind was blowing, it waived around his head in such ghostly fashion that, when seen at a graveyard in the night, the bravest either stopped to think, or resolved to increase speed, gen- erally the latter. Two such incidents happened during the stranger's stay at George Wilson's grave, and some people lived and died in the full belief that the white-haired old man was a very ghost. This, or something like this, is about the explanation of all ghost stories.
Moses Vincent, son-in-law of George Wilson, was a dapper little man, and almost as irritable as a hornet. He was, however, one of the best of workers; and for Moses Vincent to say he was going to do anything was almost equivalent to saying it was done. When at any kind of work he thrashed away like men do when killing snakes. Though not one of the poplar log team, he was present as busy as, and louder than, the biggest man there. He is intro- duced here because he hauled his father-in-law's poplar lumber to Athens. He carried it on an ox cart whose wheels were made of solid blocks of timber cut from a huge blackgum tree. They were made with solid hubs on them and consequently did not wabble much. The rims of the wheels were protected by white oak tires, which had to be frequently renewed. To prevent them from creaking on their axles, pine leaves were used instead of common pine tar. Such a cart drawn by big oxen over the campus of the State University to-day, would create so great a sensation that everybody would be wanting to ride.
The gum trees which then grew in the swamps were sometimes of immense size. I now have, in everyday use, a gum* which was
*This old gum is now in Mrs. Maggie Johnson's possession .- Ed.
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cut in one of these swamps by George Wilson, Sr., in 1785. Though not the largest cut, it holds about eight bushels, is three feet high, and the wood is not more than an inch thick at any place, all hollowed out by the hand of nature.
Mrs. Polly Vincent, wife of Moses, had spun and woven enough cloth to make her two or three counterpanes to spread over her well-filled feather beds on Sundays. They were striped both ways, and were called checkered counterpanes. The stripes were blue, white and copperas, and about three inches wide. After making her counterpanes, Polly found that she had nearly two yards left. Moses wanted a pair of breeches made of this remnant; and though she demurred, he insisted, and the breeches were made.
About that time, the famous Lorenzo Dow and his wife, Peggy, were making a tour through this part of the country. One Satur- day they had an appointment to preach at Black's Creek church, where Moses was a member in good standing. Wanting, as he said, "to hear a woman preach before he died," he was anxious to attend and wear his new breeches. The time came, and Moses pulled himself into his pants. They were so tight that he could not stoop down and Polly had to tie his shoes. He hesitated to wear them; but she laughed at him so heartily that he got mad, and declared he would go "breeches or no breeches." So, by going to a stump, he "wiggled" on his horse, and away he went; but he could not bend his legs enough to keep his feet in the stirrups. Near the church, he met a traveling stranger, who ex- claimed :
"Good morning, sir, to your big striped breeches!"
"None of your business, sir, what sort of breeches I wear," snapped Moses.
"I know," replied the man, "but you look so funny, you must excuse me."
"Excuse the d-1!"
"No, not him, but me."
"Light, and I'll thrash you."
"You can't light with them tight breeches on; so I'll go."
"Go and be durned," was the reply, and the traveler rode away, laughing.
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Moses waited until the stranger was out of sight, and he was so mad that he turned and went back home. He afterwards burned his "big striped breeches," because, as he said, "the d- d things kept him from hearing a woman preach."
Mr. Vincent was a strictly honest and successful farmer. He finally moved to Habersham County, where he died somewhere in the early forties. Some of his relatives still live here.
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CHAPTER IV. GABE NASH SPELLS "TIZIC."
James Nash, father of William Nash, came with other early settlers to this county, where he followed farming nearly all his life. His industrious habits and good management soon enabled him to accumulate a considerable fortune; and, being the soul of honor and a Christian gentleman without blemish, he made good use of it. His position at the poplar log showed his physical strength, and he was in every other way equally strong.
He finally settled about four miles below Commerce, on the Clarkesville road, where he built the best and most elegant resi- dence then in the county. It afterwards became a public inn and was favorably known to the traveling public both far and near. This house and all the improvements on the place were totally destroyed by a cyclone on Feb. 19, 1884. His daughter, Miss Mary Nash, was fatally wounded and some of the family of his grandson, C. T. Nash, who then lived there, were blown high up into the shade trees; but did not get seriously hurt.
Mrs. Margerette Thornton, who recently died in Texas at the age of 100 years, was James Nash's daughter, and widow of Micajah Thornton, who was born near old Etoho church before it became Oconee.
The celebrated Gabriel Nash, Esq., who died in Madison County many years ago, was James Nash's son and a pupil of William T. Brantly near John Borders' mill, now the Jackson mill. Perhaps a friendly controversy which took place between the teacher and pupil may be worth repeating. Walker's dictionary was then used, and one day the teacher gave out the word "phthisic." When it had reached Gabriel no one had spelled it, and he bawled out "t-i-z-i-c, tizic." The teached shook his head and finally had to spell it for his class.
"Are you sure," asked Nash, "that p-h-t-h-i-s-i-c spells tizic?" "I'll leave it to Walker," replied the teacher.
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"Mr. Brantly," said Nash respectfully, "I like you too well to dispute your word, and it's Walker, himself, that is wrong."
"What will you do for a standard?" was asked.
"Make one for myself," was the reply, and the lesson went on pleasantly.
In after years, when Gabriel Nash was a leading lawyer at the bar and such men as Howell and Tom Cobb dreaded his biting sarcasm and his bold assaults, he had a case in court which, in some way, involved the estate of a man who had died with the phthisic. In making out his briefs it became necessary for him to use the name of the disease with which the man died. Though frequently used, he invariably wrote the word "tizic." Judge Charles Dougherty, a man who always insisted on doing every- thing precisely right, was on the bench, and ordered Mr. Nash to change his spelling.
"Please, your Honor, what difference does it make for a man to die with two h's or without any. He's dead, and that's all there is of it."
He took his seat and nothing more was said about the trouble- some word. He had made and followed his standard.
Mrs. James Nash, nee Miss Margerette Long, was loved and honored by all the people. No being lived, however obscure or mean, that she failed to treat kindly. She was a near relative of Dr. Crawford W. Long, but she died before he became famous. She and her husband sleep the sleep of the good in plain view of the desolate spot which was once their pleasant home.
Robert Wilson, son of George Wilson, Sr., was the first boy born within the present limits of Jackson County and the first native citizen to leave it. Like his father and brothers, he was a giant in size ; and being a blacksmith, the strength in his arm was enormous. He forged all the iron work that was used in the old jail at Jefferson. In this he was assisted by James Goode, the first man ever confined within the walls which he had labored to make strong. He was afterwards hung for the murder of his child, which a woman required him to put out of the way before she would marry him. It is all well and much better that that
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woman's people were then, and still are, among the best people in the country.
The above is a remarkable paragraph, which I failed to notice until after it was written. First son born; first to leave county ; first substantial jail; first prisoner; first murderer legally pun- ished ; first hung.
Robert Wilson married Miss Aseneath Winburn, whose father lived near Black's Creek church. A little more than a year ago I passed by the old Winburn burying ground and paused to think of the changes which the ever onward rush of years re- veals to the eyes of an old man. Elberta peach trees and cotton were growing all over and around the graves of an entire family, except one son, Elsworth Winburn, who fell at the side of David Crockett at the battle of the Alamo, Texas, March 6, 1836. As the song says, "What one man loses another one gains."
Soon after Robert Wilson married he went with his bride to Tennessee, and I have never heard anything more of him, except that he lived in the neighborhood of James K. Polk, and left many descendants there.
Drury Gee was by direct descent an Englishman of pure Saxon blood. He came to this county from North Carolina in 1785 as a follower of George Wilson and Notty Gore, and settled near Black's Creek church, now in Madison County. He was a revolutionary soldier and fought under Washington all the way from the crossing of the Delaware to Yorktown. He belonged to the same regiment that boasted of the names of Jackson Clark, Jacob Bankston, John Harris, Dale Clover and Henry Therrauld. When Tumbling Shoals was threatened with an enemy, Drury Gee flew to the aid of his friends there with all possible speed, and was always an ally of first importance. The news of the in- vasion of Wautowauto did not reach him in time for the battle among the trees; but he was at the burying of Dr. Therrauld and wept over the loss of his dear friend and fellow soldier at a "time that tried men's souls."
Because of his powers and endurance he was called "The Iron Man," and he well merited the title. Though of medium size, his muscles bulged from his arms in great, cord-like knots; and for
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this reason he was always one of the team of men who carried big logs. Foot-racing was a leading sport of the times, and as dearly loved by Drury Gee as the smoker loves his pipe. When "on the turf," as he called it, he was never known to be in the rear. When the news of Wautowauto's descent upon Tumbling Shoals reached him he arrived at the place on foot, carrying a heavy rifle twelve miles, in advance of two boys, James Wilson and Samuel Gore, who followed him on horseback. Before sun- down of that day every available man and boy at and around the Groaning Rock settlement was at Tumbling Shoals, all heavily armed. It was thus that the scattered inhabitants of the country flew to the assistance of each other, and they always went to hurt.
Mr. Gee was eminently a man of peace and a gentleman; but it was dangerous business "to tread upon his toes." This was never known to be tried but one time. John Shoemaker, a very large man and a self-styled "bully," though not a citizen, while passing through the country heard of Drury Gee. He sent him word that he could either whip him or throw him down in a rough and tumble scuffle. They met and Gee told him that he would throw him down first and thrash afterwards. This made the "bully" mad, and they went together with a clash. At the second pass Gee threw him on his back so violently that, though he tried, he could not turn over. Gee then carried him to a heavy rail fence, put his head between two rails that would not choke him, took off one of his heavy shoes and gave him a good
"spanking." The man soon began to beg for mercy, Gee de- liberately released him, they shook hands and parted in peace. Shoemaker never returned to the settlement. This was character- istic of the times-no pistol, no knife, no threats-nothing but the closing of the fingers together.
Some years after this, while Drury Gee was cutting sprouts in his new ground, he felt a sharp pain in the big toe of his right foot. He gave it little attention at first, but in a few days his entire foot began to swell and turn blue. Sharp pains began to shoot up his leg and the swelling increased to an alarming extent. The nearest physician was Dr. Hopson, at Jefferson. Samuel Gore, son of Notty, and the boy that went with James Wilson to
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Tumbling Shoals, being a bold and reckless rider, went after him. In due time, the doctor arrived, and after examination decided that amputation of the leg was the only chance to save his life. Mr. Gee consented. The knives and saws, the bandages, thread and needles, usually carried by a surgeon in those days were placed on a shelf in plain view of the sufferer. James Mont- gomery, Hiram Bingham, Notty Gore and James Wilson were the special attendants. They placed Mr. Gee on a heavy, rough table which stood near the shelf. Everything was ready. The reader may think that all those strong men were there to hold Mr. Gee! Oh, no, not that! They were there to wait on the sur- geon, and Mrs. Gee and others were there to wait on them. Crawford W. Long had never been heard of; anesthesia was unknown.
Mr. Gee is pale; but his eyes which had faced so many dangers unmoved, are calm and glittering. A death-like silence reigns, the first incision is made, the cutting goes on and on, the arteries are tied and tied, the bone is reached! The cruel saw begins its work, slowly, slowly, carefully, lower and lower go its slurring teeth, all grim with blood and marrow; and lower, lower still, until it ceases to move-stop !- the leg is off !
Neither groan nor sigh had escaped the lips of the sufferer. No wonder he was called "The Iron Man."
Mr. Gee's leg was well in reasonable time, and for twelve months he went on one crutch as cheerful and determined as he had ever been. But, it is painful to ever write it-his left big toe became affected as the other had been. The disease spread as be- fore, and again amputation became necessary. The same sur- geon performed the operation as successfully as before. When Dr. Hopson thought his patient out of danger, he playfully asked Mr. Gee what he intended to do. "Lie here and kick up my heels, I reckon," was the dry reply. A legless man kicking up his heels !
Mr. Gee lived only a few years after his last leg was cut off. He was buried at Black's Creek church, and "He whose memory deserves a temple," now sleeps in a grave unmarked. In 1854 two small stones indicated the exact spot, but in 1880 even these
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were gone. It is between the graves of Mesdames Polly Mc- Ginnis and Eveline Baugh, mother of the late W. C. Baugh of Maysville.
Samuel Gore, already incidentally mentioned, was not remark- able for anything except his physical strength and the bold, reck- less way he had of doing things. As the escapade he had on the night he went for Dr. Hopson will illustrate this feature, it may be given here.
As a matter of fun and daring, Sam rode the Shaddon steer, and when he reached Curry's creek a little below the present rock dam, where the banks were about thirty feet apart, the steer, becoming shy of the rippling water as it glittered in the moonshine, utterly refused to cross. Sam wore a heavy, home- made iron spur on each heel, and digging these into the sides of the animal, he made the opposite bank at three jumps. Having no mane to hold by, he digged his spurs still deeper to keep from falling off. This so enraged the steer that he threw up his tail to an angle of about ninety degrees and he and his rider went dashing through the little town like they had been shot out of a cannon. It was in the early part of the night but Mrs. Lucy Hyde happened to see them, and having a milk cow about the same color of the steer, she hastened to tell her husband that, "The devil had taken her cow and gone off on her back like a streak of lightning!" Others had heard "the rippet," as they termed the stampede, and this, when added to Mrs. Hyde's somewhat exaggerated story, created much excitement.
The rider, being strong and athletic, after making a wide circuit, finally brought the steer under control. When he reached the court-house on his return the square around it was thronged with people trying to find an explanation of what they heard, and Mrs. Hyde saw. The explanation was easy, a hearty laugh went around, and Sam hastened to the doctor's office.
Some one of the town wrote a song to celebrate the occasion It began with the following lines :
"The devil came in town to-night, But didn't come to stay, He came upon his steer all right, But rode our cow away."
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This doggerel, sang to a lively air, became popular all over the county; and as late as 1836, when a company of volunteers was goint West to help carry the Indians away, all sang this song as they went through Jefferson. Sam Gore himself, and his neigh- bor, the ill-fated Levi Quintius Curtius McGinnis, were members of the company and joined in the singing of the song.
Some Gore died near Ross' Landing, now Chattanooga, and though rough in some of his ways, he had a kind heart and was a true and faithful friend. McGinnis returned, and I was a pupil in his school nine days.
Jim Beasly, the fiddler, though of fair moral character, was a good-for-nothing sort of fellow. He was so kind-hearted that like Diogenes, he had "nothing for himself and everything for others." A good fiddler for the times, he played at public gath- erings, and for that he generally received good wages. Though he seldom worked long at one place, he was industrious, and gave good satisfaction. A bird of passage, he finally disappeared and no one knew from whence he came nor whither he went.
Thomas Perry, Sr., came to this county in the early years of the last century. He was a small man of quiet manners and of unquestioned good character. Though he sometimes took his dram, he never drank to excess, and lived on friendly terms with all his neighbors. He was one of those rare men who joked and took jokes without offense to either party. A man could not be found who disliked him, nor was he ever known to speak disre- spectfully of another. "Geewhillicans" was his favorite by-word, and introductory to almost everything he said. An oath seemed to rasp and grate upon his feelings like a saw across his breast, and he would not remain where one was uttered. He was certain- ly a fine character and worthy of all praise.
He settled one and a half miles south of Commerce, where he opened a farm, made a good living by his own industry and by attending to his own business without any interference whatever with the business of others.
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