USA > Tennessee > Old times in West Tennessee : reminiscences, semi-historic, of pioneer life and the early emigrant settlers in the Big Hatchie country > Part 10
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Of the merchants who were then in active bust- ness life, now among the survivors of that early period, whose eventful career comes down to this present writing, none is deserving more of honorable mention than
NATHAN ADAMS.
I remember well his first appearance in Coving ton. Young and handsome, (he was so regarded by the fair young women), with glossy black hair. intelligent, bewitching dark eyes; always handsomely dressed, with artistically tied cravat. I thought him the very model of a refined, well-dressed gentleman. When the annals and history of West Tennessee shall be written, his name will merit a high place in the pages of her progress, in both city and country. Verging to a ripe old age, having passed his three score years, he yet moves with the elasticity of thirty , years ago. A man of progress, an able financier, he now ranks among the wealthy, enterprising men of Memphis. Possessing a refined and appreciative taste, he enjoys life in the circle of his many friends.
Among the cotemporary early settlers in Tipton, now living, and whose name has been identified
in West Tennessee.
with the local interest of the country for near a han' century, none is more worthy of mention than
WILLIAM COWARD, ESQUIRE.
"Starting in the world a poor boy," he began life in Jackson, Madison county, 1824-5, with Amour & Lake, clerking and running keel boats down the Forked Deer and Mississippi, carrying cotton to New Orleans, they trusting to his integrity to bring back the proceeds. In 1826 he took a look at Memphis, when it was a village at the mouth of Wolf. Aiming to be a tiller of the soil, the rich lands of Tipton attracted him to where he settled in the woods near Covington. He still lives where he first settled, and in the house he first built, where, by his industry and probity, he has amassed a large fortune. Believing in the old adage, "that a rolling stone gathers no moss," he has never sought new places, or engaged in new enterprises. Wm.
Coward always has a dollar to lend, and none knows better how to lend it, or who to lend it to. Ap- proaching three-score and ten years, he is yet an active business man, looking after and turning over his honest gains. It is not inappropriate to relate an occurrence that happened in his early life, illustra- tive of his care and vigil over what belongs to him. He went to New Orleans, with the first crop of cot- ton he made in Tipton, bringing back the proceeds in hard money in his saddle-bags. Arriving at Randolph, he swung the saddle-bags containing this "hard cash" accross his shoulder and started on foot for home, twelve or fourteen miles distant. Night overtook him soon after leaving the settlement near
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Randolph, having many miles o. lerness to pas through. When passing through ,Le most unfre quented portion of it, he was attacked by a hungry pack of wolves. Several miles distant from any house or settlement, with nothing to defend him self but his hickory walking-stick, he was forced to take refuge in the nearest tree. Luckily, a small bending oak was at hand, and up it he went, to where a large limb grew straight up. Finding the weight of his saddle-bags too great to climb the limb with it on his shoulder, he swung it on the first limband pulled himself above it. The hungry wolves, in their furious attack, would run up on the bend- ing portion of the tree. Finding they could not reach him, they commenced snapping at the bag of hard cash. To keep the hungry beasts from rending the saddle-bags and spilling out all the money, Coward would swing himself down, holding on with one hand while laraping them over the head with huis hickory stick. Thus he was kept up the treeide fending and keeping the wolves off of his saddle bags until relieved by daylight, when the hungry wolves left for their dark holes.
The Calmes tavern had no sign indicating that it was a place of entertainment for travelers, other than a horse-rack in front for them to hitch their horses. An expert sign-painter came along, and pursuaded my father to have a fine sign painted and swung up. The suggestion met with favor, and the sign-painter went to work upon a four by four square board. At my mother's suggestion, the name "tavern " was dropped, and " hotel" adopted. "Cov-
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ington " was painted in m'of a crescent, in de, and "hotel" be- large letters, a star in the . low, gilded with gold; the ground was blue, be- spangled with brilliants. : The sign, swung high up in a frame upon a large post painted white, was a credit to the painter, recommending him favorably to the town. For several days it was the attractive point for the boys. Covington had a hotel! A bell was then added to the hotel, put up in a neat belfry on top of the building; which was another attractive point with the boys. Covington could boast of its rolicsome, frolicsome, boys, as well as other towns. Hardly a week passed without recording some of their innocent deviltry, such as changing sign boards, etc. Holmes & Adams would walk into their store of a morning under Booker & Clarkson's sign; it was only the trouble of changing them back again. One morning all the milkmaids were run- ning over town inquiring if any one had seen such and such a calf. One "with red sides and white back and belly;" another "with spots all over it, and white in the face." The cows filled the streets lowing their utmost. The town was about to go to breakfast without milk in its coffee, when, from the lowing of the cows, a calf was heard to bleat in the court-house. In the meantime, the inquiries as to the missing calves becoming general, the town folk began to gather on the public square. The cows, hearing the bleating of the calf in the court- house, gathered around it, and the calves set up a unanimous bleating in the court room. The milk women and the boys (who didn't know anything
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about it) opened the court-house door, and the calves came jumping out, kicking up their heels and pairing off with their mothers. Not so, however, with an old billy goat, that remained in the court room thumping on the Judge's stand. He was tied hard and fast in the chair occupied by his Honor in" pre- siding. The town gathered to see his Honor on the bench-presiding in horns! The boys enjoyed the result of their pranks, innocent of any knowledge as to how came the calves, and honest Billy White' old billy, in the court-room. It all passed off as a joke, intended for the ears of the Judge of the "Court of Pleas and Quarter Sessions," who was in the habit, when on the bench, of getting dry, and calling on the Sheriff:
"Mr. Sheriff, adjourn court, and let's all go and take a horn."
Many amusing incidents and anecdotes were told of old Holtshouser's court. He was firmly impressed with the idea that his court could not err; he fe garded himself as the arbiter dictum of the court and the law, as was illustrated in the case of old Johnny Giddin's. The old man had absented himself from home for some cause known only to himself. He had gone in the direction of Arkansas, fatal ground to travel over in those days. His long absence had confirmed his family and friends in the belief that he had " gone to that bourne from whence no traveler returns."? Application was made to Holtshouser's court to declare his estate vacant, and for an admin- istrator to be appointed. The requisite proof of his demise was made, and the administraton of his es-
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tate regularly opened. The usual time allowed for winding up and closing the administration elapsed, and the estate was distributed among the heirs and legatees. In the course of a short time old man Gid- dins turned up alive, and appeared before Holts- houser's court persona personam, demanding that his estate be restored to him. Holtshouser heard him through, and then replied :
"Sir, your case seems a hard one, but it can't be helped now. This court has declared that you are extinctus defunctus-dead! It is the decision of this court now. This court can't err. Mr. Sheriff, ad- journ court, and let's all go and take a horn."
My father was very little suited for a tavern- keeper. Conscious of his personal rights, and stern in maintaining them, he exercised little patience in the short-coming of others. He worried under a practical joke. A rigid old-side Presbyterian, he be- lieved in training up the young "in the way they should go." He put his foot down upon the night amusement of the "boys about town." It but sharpened their appetites for a little fun at his ex- pense. The new bell, put up in the belfry, was in- viting for a little innocent amusement. They began their fun, to his great annoyance, by ringing the bell in the dead hour of night. The bell was never rung at night, except a few taps for the hostler, or in the event of fire. Every few nights the bell would ring. It annoyed him so that he vowed that the next night it rang he would find out, by some strategy or other, who did it, and pepper the fellow well with duck shot. The boys were delighted that
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the " old 'Squire," as they called him, was annoyed; it was what they played for. They went to work. upon a strategy of their own, to increase the volume of their fun, and increase if possible, the "'Squire's" annoyance. One night (the moon was shining brightly), the bell commenced ringing; my father got up and dressed himself, and put fresh priming in his gun, charged with a load of small shot. My mother endeavored to dissuade him from going out; that it was better to let the boys alone; that they would stop ringing the bell when they found that it did not vex him. He was resolved, however, to put a stop to it; then calling up the hostler, he threw his cloak around him, and went for the bell-ringers, sending the hostler up on the building to find out by the string the boys had tied to the bell, the di- rection they were concealed. The bell continued to ring furiously, as if the town was on fire. The hostler reaching the top of the building, discovered the fellow that was ringing, he sliped off of the roof and down to the ground as quick as he could, say- ing :
" Master !! master! I found him, he's straddle the new sign aringing all his might! come quick, he couldn't help seeing me when I was on top of the house; come quick, before he gets away."
My father moved round in front, and there the fellow was, sitting straddle of the sign, pulling at the string with increased jerks, the bell ringing louder than ever.
"Come down from there, you miscreant! Come down, or I will pepper you good," he said.
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The fellow's arm continued to jerk the string, and the bell kept ringing.
"Stop ringing that bell-and come down from there, or I will fill you full of shot. Won't you stop ringing that bell and come down ?"
The fellow straddle the sign continued to jerk the string as though he would drive the clapper through the rim of the bell. In the meantime the town people had began to gather on the public square, the man on the sign continuing to ring furiously. My father could stand it no longer. He had given the fellow fair warning, and he still continued his aggravating jerks at the bell. He raised his gun, in the actof shooting. Tom Taylor, the lawyer, put his head out from a window above and hallooed out, "Don't shoot, don't shoot, 'Squire, it will be mur- der-bring a ladder."
It was too late-bang went the gun.
"Let it be murder," he said, as he brought the gun down from his face. The fellow didn't flinch, but continued jerking away at the bell-string, the. bell peeling away in the clear, still moonlight. My father became excitingly mad, and vowed that he would load up with buck-shot and bring him down. Just then the ladder was brought. The hostler was ordered to go up and fetch him down.
"Bring him down," said my father, "dead or alive."
"He ain't dead, sir, see him ringing as hard as he can," said the hostler, as he went up the ladder. Reaching near enough to get hold of his leg, he gave
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it a tremendous jerk, bringing it away from his body, and let it drop, saying:
" There's his leg, master, you shot it off; he's don stop ringing now."
A good many of the town people had gathered around after the firing of the gun. When the leg dropped to the ground, with the hostler's remark " You have shot his leg off, master," a rush was made to see it. It was neither flesh, bone, nor blood. The joke had exploded .. The bell-ringer was brought down-a well-shaped man of straw minus a leg. The "sell" was complete. Many of the town people felt that they were equally "sold" with my father, who, after the excitement passed off. enjoyed the joke in his dry way. The boys were satisfied, but nobody knew who did it. The ex- planation but increased the interest of the "sell" It was well-planed, as the boys about Covington knew how. The strategy was a success. The new sign stood in a line with the belfry, and the old court-house, which stood in the public square, and was two stories high. The man of straw represented a well-shaped man, dressed, capped and booted. Sev- eral strong fishing lines tied together, one end tied to the bell-clapper, and the line stretched across to the upper window of the court-house, the hand of the man of straw fastened to it, gave the operator inside of the court-house perfect control. Whenever he would pull the line, it gave the appearance of having been done by the man astraddle of the sign It being a bright moonlight night, the operator could see through the window what was going on
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around the signpost, so when the hostler got hold of the man of straw the joke exploded, and the ope- rator left his place of concealment.
A tavern or hotel was more particularly a public place than now. The public felt that it had a right to say and do pretty much as it pleased, so the bills were paid. Swearing, the taking of the Lord's name in vain, was common then as now: Nothing annoyed my father more. Vulgar and profane language he abominated; profanity at his table was beyond his endurance. Passing through the dining- room one day (it was during court week) his atten- tion was arrested by "dam that mule! dam that mule! what a h-I-fired wicked beast he must have been!" Just then my father reached the chair of the individual using the profane language. It proved to be his old friend Major Richmond, from Browns- ville, who was attending court. The humorous Major had dropped his knife and fork, had his gaze fixed in the face of another guest who had taken his seat at the table opposite him, when my father, laying his hand on the Major's shoulder, inquired the cause of such language. The Major sprang to his feet upon the instant, without taking his fixed gaze from the face of the man before him, ex- claimed :
" I was only contemning the da-, the infernal, con- founded, everlastingly-wicked beast-the son or daughter of a jackass, for spoiling the beauty of that gentleman's facc," pointing at the man across the table.
"Tot, tot, tot," says my father, " Major, that is one of our most excellent and worthy citizens-his face
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becomes him much. Mr. Shankle, allow me to in troduce to you my old friend Major Richmond !?
Shankle accepted the introduction, and he and the humorous Major joined hands across the table. the Major humorously apologizing for his mistake. The reader must know, as all who knew him, will attest, that if an "ugly club" had been formed in Tipton, our friend George Shankle would have been unanimously chosen its first president.
Major Richmond and George Shankle became firm friends after that. Shankle used his influence in getting the Major employed in all the " road cases." which, in those days, encumbered the docket ou "State days." An old time and highly esteemed first settler was
MAJOR JAMES SWEENEY,
a neighbor of George Shankles. The Major kept house of entertainment on the road from Covington to Randolph. Always in a good humor, he delighted to have his friends stop with him; fond of good eat. ing himself, none knew better how to gratify the need and appetite of his guest. Few men were better or more favorably known in the county. He was noted for his excessive laughter, his risables ever in tention; often when alone he was known to break out in a horse laugh at some humorous thought of his own. In asking or answering ques tions, his habit was to use language in the relative. His manner and language in the use of words was peculiarly his own, rarily ever failing to produce merriment and laughter. For instance, he would walk into a store when wishing to purchase a pair
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of children's shoes, he would inquire of the clerk or store-keeper if they had anything relative to little children's running about out of doors. Knowing well his manner of expressing his wants, the store- keeper would, without further question, hand out the article called for. A party of the Major's friends was passing his house one day in the month of No- vember; the Major was hard at work in his garden digging away with a hoe. The party halting at the fence on the roadside, hallooed to the Major in- quiring what he was driving at. He rose up from his laboring posture, with one of his side-shaking laughs, saying:
"I was just getting the rust off this grubbing- hoe, by way of preparing a bed relative to straw- berries and cream next spring." Major James Sweeny is kindly remembered by the people of Tip- ton for his hospitality and many kind acts.
Covington was a thriving new town; stores and business multiplying, particularly the tippling shops. People drank then, as now, except they then took it at intervals, but now they take it as a regular, con- stant drink. Liquor seemed to have more effect upon the people then than now; it may be that it was stronger, or possibly their not taking it regu- larly, as is done now, had something to do with it. The best men then, as they do now, "imbibed," or, in the language of the "Court of Pleas and Quarter Sessions," they all took a "horn." When court was in session, and on public days, the country emptied itself of the mail population into town, and none blushed to take a drink, who felt like it. Liquor in
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those days seemed to make people more belligerent than now; it may have been that they feared less to fight, because of the absence of the revolver in every. body's pocket, as is not the case in the present uge Certain it is, that never a public day passed off Covington without sundry fights; without some body's nose smashed, eyes gouged, or heads bruised Liquor was said to be the cause of it all. It was very seldom that any one was fatally hurt. The first killing I remember to have occurred in Coving. ton under the head of murder, was by old Tackett We all remember old Tackett; he had killed bie man in North Carolina, and escaped the gallows by fleeing to Tennessee. He put a load of squirrel. shot in Deputy Sheriff Mitchell's breast. Mitchell lived several days after he was shot. Upon a post- mortem examination being had, it was found that five or more shot had penetrated his heart. Tackett was tried for the murder, and found guilty of mur- der in the first degree; his lawyers obtained a new trial for him. Upon his second trial he was found guilty of manslaughter, and sentenced to be branded in the palm of the left hand with the letters " M. S." which was done.
Another murder case occurred not long after yet remembered by the old citizens for the nov- elty of the mode of arriving at a verdict. A man by the name of Gray was accused and indicted for killing his wife. Few cases excited more interest than Gray's case; he was defended by the best talent the bar afforded, and the case occupied ser- eral days; the jury received the judge's charge late
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at night, being well nigh tired out from their pro- tracted sitting during the trial: Returning to the jury room it was soon found that six were for hang- ing and six for clearing the criminal. Finding that they could not agree upon a verdict, they sent the" baliff over to the judge's room to say that they were hung-that it was not possible for them to agree upon a verdict. The judge told the baliff to go back and inform the jury that if they did not agree upon a verdict they might remain 'hung' to the end of the term. The baliff reported back the pleasure of the Judge. They went to work again to find a verdict, but couldn't; they seemed more firmly 'hung.', To remain hung for the balance of the term was trying to their worn-out patience. When it was proposed as the shortest and the only way they could 'agree,' that the best 'old sledge' player be selected from each side of the verdict, and a game of six-card seven up decide. To this propo- sition they 'agreed;' a member from each side was chosen, a deck of cards brought, and the game be- gan. Gray's life was staked upon the turning of a card. The game was close, six and six, when the juror from the clearing side turned jack. They found a verdict post haste, and the baliff was sent to bring the Judge over. The Judge was prompt in getting on the bench, and ordered the Sheriff to bring in the jury. They were standing at the door of the jury room waiting. The Clerk called over their names and asked:
" Gentlemen, have you agreed upon a verdict?" The paper was handed up and read :
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" We, the jury, find the defendant not guilty."
The writer is informed that the juror who "turned up jack" is yet alive to attest the truth of history.
An aggravated stabbing under the law occurred not long after the Tackett killing, at the "movers camping ground" near town, on the Brownsville road. Rufus Garland, a most excellent good citi- zen, of good family and high respectability, lived some four miles northeast of Covington. Rufus would get into a spree once in awhile, and when in a "spree" he was permitted by all who knew him "to have his own way." His friends, and he bad many, would facilitate his vein for humor and fun, rather than oppose him. To say Rufe, "you must not do this, or that," or take hold of his horse's bridle when he should want to ride him in the galleries, or through the house, was like putting your foot upon and adder's head. Quick as an ar row from its bow, he would strike; it made no dif- ference who. He played sweetly upon the fiddle." When in one of his sprees the fiddle was his boby. He would mount his horse, with fiddle and bow in hand, and ride, as on a race, all around the square playing. His horse was trained to suit his frolic, and seemed uqually fond of it with his master. Going up flights of steps and leaping out again was one of his favorite amusements. But Rufe's sprees finally got him into trouble. Starting home one night, (he never left town, when in a spree, until after dark), several of his friends and neighbors with him; passing the movers' camp fires he reigned up his horse and vowed he would make him leap
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the long log fire that was burning brightly. Head- ing him to it he put spurs; before reaching the fire a stout young man rose to his feet and seized the bridle and checked up the horse, with an angry oath, "I'll be damned if you do." Garland was off of his horse before his friends could get to him, perforating the young man all over his chest with his little four and a half inch dirk. Garland was a. small, very small man, quick as lightning and active as a cat. The effect of liquor upon him only set his brain on fire. He had stabbed the young man in a dozen or more places, many of them fatally aimed. Doctors were sent for and they pro- nounced him mortally wounded. Garland got on his horse and rode home, saying that he would come to town next morning. The young man was quartered in a house near by, and properly attended and nursed; his life was dispaired of from day to day for many weeks. In the meantime Garland went to jail. It was not deemed a bailable case in the event of the death of the young man, and he was kept in jail for several weeks. The jailer was a good, jolly fellow, and having perfect confidence in Garland's in- tegrity, he gave him the freedom of the limits of the building. The jail had just been finished; large and new. The jailer with his family lived in it. He was a tinner by trade, and had his shop in one of the rooms of the jail. Garland had him to make a tin fiddle, which he strung up and amused himself with making tinny music. The people from the coun- try, as well as town, flocked to the jail to see the tin fiddle and hear Rufus play on it. The reader can
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well imagine the character of sound that would come from a tin fiddle. It was artistically made in all its parte with sound-post, and well strung. With the magic bow in Rufus' hand it in very truth gave out sweet strains of tinny music. Those who were boys then can certainly never forget Rufus Garland's tin fid dle.
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