USA > West Virginia > Logan County > Logan > History of the city of Logan, W. Va. [West Virginia], 1823-1916 > Part 5
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The Poets of Logan
Logan gains quite a bit of notriety from the fact that the song of "Ben Bolt" was written here by its author, Dr. Thomas Dunn English. The writer is indebted to Mrs. Vicie Nighbert, for the permission so graciously given, for the copying of this song and the poem "Rafting on the Guy- andotte," written by the same author. These poems were extracted from a volume of "American Ballads," all of which were composed by Dr. English and published in a volume, a copy of which was presented to James W. Nigh- bert by Dr. English, the fly-leaf of the volume bearing this inscription: "Jas. W. Nighbert, with the compliments of the Author." For the information relating to Dr. Eng- lish we are indebted to Mrs. Vicie Nighbert, who gave us the information as told to her by her mother, and to Mr. A. S. Bryan, an old citizen, now in his 80th year and living at the present time on Stratton street in our city. Mr. Bryan was personally acquainted with Dr. English, having at one time been postmaster of the town and employing
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Dr. English to attend to the duties of the office, English bearing the title of assistant postmaster.
What year Dr. English came to Logan or from whence he came is not known. It is supposed he came from New Jersey, for after leaving Logan he returned to New Jersey and resided in Newark. Dr. English was twice elected to Congress from New Jersey during the latter years of his life, and while filling the position of Congressman he did so while totally blind ,being led about the halls of Congress by an attendant.
The year of his death is not known. Dr. English came to Logan some time previous to the "fifties" and remained here for about seven and one-half years. We have an official record of him being here in the year 1852, that being the year he held the office of mayor, but what year he left here is not known. During the time he was here he left Logan, presumably on a business trip, and on his return he was accompanied by a woman with two children. Dr. English announced that while gone he married a widow lady, but rumors had it at the time that while gone he stole the wife of some man and brought her back with him. It was also rumored at that time that a man, deaf and blind, followed the couple as far as Guyandotte and told there that his wife and two children had been stolen from him and brought here to some of these mountain wilder- nesses. The people here at that time were inclined to believe part of this story to be facts, from the fact that the woman was never allowed to visit to any extent and she always carried a look of apprehension. She was only permitted a few friends and was often seen by them weep- ing and appeared to be in deep trouble. If this be true, the older citizens are of the opinion that the marriage was legalized after their coming to Logan, for it is known that Dr. English had, by an act of the General Assembly, the name of the children changed to English.
Dr. English was an eccentric character, a man of bril- liant brain, a mixer in medicine and law, politics and
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science, and altogether a man highly intellectual. While here he was wont to visit the shade of the old elm trees that stood by the bank of the Guyandotte near the resi- dence of Mrs. Nighbert. It was beneath the shade of the old elm tree that stands today by the railroad bridge that spans the Guyandotte that he composed the song "Ben. Blot"' which has emanated from the throats of thousands. Dr. English was a frequent visitor to the home of the Lawsons, and this being the place where they resided and a beautiful site, affording a quantity of shade and a cool breeze, it is only natural that he should choose this spot for his writings; but the story to the effect that this song was dedicated to "Alice Lawson" is only the fabric of some elastic imagination, for there was at that time none of the Lawson children bearing the name of Alice, nor were any of the girls at that time large enough to draw the attention of Dr. English. However, the poem is a beautiful gem of thought and we are pleased to give it publication here just as it is take n from the volume of the author:
Ben Bolt
Don't you remember sweet Alice, Ben Bolt- Sweet Alice whose hair was so brown,
Who wept with delight when you gave her a smile, And trembled with fear at your frown?
In the old church-yard in the valley, Ben Bolt, In a corner obscure and alone,
They have fitted a slab of the granite so grey, And Alice lies under the stone.
Under the hickory-tree, Ben Bolt, Which stood at the foot of the hill, Together we've lain in the noonday shade And listened to Appleton's mill. The mill-wheel has fallen to pieces, Ben Bolt, The rafters have tumbled in,
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And a quiet which crawls round the walls as you gaze Has followed the olden din.
Do you mind of the cabin of logs, Ben Bolt, At the edge of the pathless wood,
And the button-ball tree with its motley limbs, Which nigh by the door step stood ? The cabin to ruin has gone, Ben Bolt, The tree you would seek for in vain;
And where once the lords of the forest waved Are grass and the golden grain.
And don't you remember the school, Ben Bolt, With the master so cruel and grim,
And the shaded nook in the running brook Where the children went to swim? ·
Grass grows on the master's grave, Ben Bolt, The spring of the brook is dry, And of all the boys who were schoolmates then There are only you and I.
There is change in the things I loved, Ben Boit, They have changed from the old to the new ; But I feel in the deeps of my spirit the truth, There never was change in you.
. Twelvemonths twenty have past, Ben Bolt, Since first we were friends, yet I hail Your presence a blessing, your friendship a truth, Ben Bolt of the salt-sea gale.
Then we follow with the poem "Rafting on the Guy andotte," a beautiful poem when taken together with the thought that this is a vivid discription of the logs that have been for years rafted down the old Guvan. We feel that this will be appreciated more by the older citizens who have been in years past engaged in this occupation :
Residence of Naaman Jackson, Cashier of First National Bank
Residence of T. E. Brownin
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Rafting on the Guyandotte
Who at danger never laughed, Let him ride upon a raft Down Guyan, when from the drains Pours the flood from many rains, And a stream no plummet gauges In a furious freshet rages. With a strange and rapturous fear Rushing water he will hear; Woods and cliff-sides darting by, These shall terribly glad his eye. He shall find his life blood leaping Feel his brain with frenzy swell; Faster with the current's sweeping ; Hear his voice in sudden yell Rising to a joyous scream
O'er the roar of the raging stream.
Never a horseman bold who strides Mettled steed and headlong rides, With a loose and flowing rein,
On a bare and boundless plain ; Never a soldier in a fight,
When the strife was at its height,
Charging through its slippery gore 'Mid bayonet gleam and cannon-roar Never a sailor, helm in hand,
Out of sight of dangerous land, With the storm-winds driving clouds And howling through the spars and shrouds- Feels such wild delight as he On the June rise riding free. Thrice a hundred logs together Float as lightly as a feather; On the freshet's foaming flow, Swift as arrows shoot they go Past the overhanging trees,
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Jutting rocks-beware of these- Over rapids, round the crooks, Over eddies that fill the nooks, Swirling, whirling, hard to steer, Manned by those who know no fear. Tough-arm raftsmen guide each oar, Keeping off the mass from shore; While between the toliing hands Mid-raft there the pilot stands, Watching the course of the rushing sluice From the top of the art-flocred, rough caboose.
Well it is, in the seething hiss Of a boiling, foaming flood like this, That the oars are stoutly boarded And each log so safely corded That we might ride on the salt-sea tide, Or over a cataract safely glide. If the pins from hickory riven Were not stout and firmly driven,
Were the cross-trees weak and limber, Woe befall your raft of timber If the withes and staple start And the logs asunder part, Off each raftsman then would go In the seething, turbid flow, And the torrent quick would bear him To a place where they could spare him. Brawny though he be of limb, Full of life and nerve and vim, Like a mermaid though he swim, Little hope would be for him. Hither the logs would go and thither; But the jolly raftsman-whither?
Now we pass the hills that throw Glassy shadows far below;
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Pass the leaping, trembling rills, Ploughing channels in the hills ; Pass the cornfields green that glide (We seem moveless on the tide) In a belt of verdure wide, Skirting us on either side. Now a cabin meets us here, Coming but to disappear. Now a lean and russet deer Perks his neck and pricks his ear; Then, as we rise up before him, Feels some danger looming o'er him,
Thinks the dark mass bodes him ill, Turns and scurries up the hill. Now some cattle, at the brink, Stooping of the flood to drink,
Lift their heads awhile to gaze In a sleepy, dull amaze;
Then they, lest we leap among them, Start as though a gadfly stung them. Past us in a moment fly Fields of maze and wheat and rye; Dells and forest-mounds and meadows Float away like fleeting shadows; But the raftsmen see not these- , Sharp they look for sunken trees, · Stumps with surface rough and ragged, Sandstone reefs with edges jagged, Hidden rocks at the rapids' head, New-made shoals in the river's bed; Steering straight as they pass the comb Of the sunken dam and its cradle of foam. Now through narrow channel darting, Now upon a wide reach starting, Now they turn with shake and quiver In a short bend of the river.
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Tasking strength to turn the oar That averts them from the shore. Ah-they strike. No-missed it barely ; They have won their safety fairly. Now they're in the straight chute's center; Now the rapids wild they enter. Whoop-that last quick run has brought her To the eddying wide back-water .. There's the sawmill-now for landing ; Now to bring her up all standing. Steady-brace yourselves-a jar Thrills her, stranded on the bar. Out with lines, make fast and rest On the broad Ohio's breast.
Where's the fiddle? Boys, be gay : Eighty miles in half a day. Never a pin nor cross-tie started, Never a saw-log from us parted, Never a better journey run From the morn to set of sun. Oh, what pleasure, how inviting, Oh, what rapture, how exciting, If among your friends there be One who something rare would see, One who dullness seeks to change For a feeling new and strange, To the logger's camp-ground send him, To a ride like this commend him- Ride that pain and sorrow dulces, Stirring brains and quickening pulses, Make him a happier man Who has coursed the fierce Guyan When the June-rain freshet swells it, And to yellow rage impels it.
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It was while gathering data for this book that the writer unearthed and brought to light another poet within our midst, in the person of James E. Greever, a practicing attorney of our city. The writer was permitted to read a couple of poems written by Mr. Greever during idle moments, but due to the extreme modesty of the author we were unable to obtain a copy for publication. However, we feel quite sure that future years will bring to light these gems of thought and send them forth for public approval.
On returning the little volume of poems to Mrs. Nigh- bert our attention was called to a poem entitled, "Found Dead in His Bed," which was written by Dr. English and is of local interest for the reason that the boy Benny, mentioned in the poem, was a son of a Mrs, Toney, living at the time on Big Creek, in this county . Tradition has it that the boy ran away from home in early life and after an absence of 31 years he returned to the home place and asked to be allowed to stay over night.
Although not knowing the stranger his mother per- mitted him to remain over night and the next morning the man was found dead in bed. Upon examination they dis- covered that the body was that of her long lost son. Inden- tification being made by tatoo marks upon the arms.
Learning of the story Dr. Engish was moved to write the story in poem form, using the original mountain dialect :
Found Dead in Bed
"Dead in his bed thar, Miss Moser,
That's whar they found him today;
Kerried away without warnin'-
Took in a snap you mought say.
Smilin' as ef he war sleepin',
Both of his arms onder his head;
That was the kurriner's vardick-
"Stranger-found dead in his bed."
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Yisterday he, at Squire Toney's, Axt heap of questions of John; Lookt like a right friendly pusson- Now the lone creatur' is gone. So I alow my pore Benny Died is some place fur away- Some place I'll never diskiver Now twell my own dying day.
Some beggin' furriner ? Skeercely. Must hev bin powerful rich, Had a gold watch in his poke thar, Great heaps of greenbacks, an' sich. What brought him yer to the mountings Nobody ever found out or knows. Come yer from off the Ohio, Lookin' fer timber, I s'pose.
Aint sich an old man, he nuther -- Risin' I jedge, forty year ; Had an old mother, too, likely- Some one as held him as dear. So, p'r'aps, my own darlin' Benny, Him that I never see,
Died fur away among strangers- Died somewhere else fur from me.
Well, then, I'll tell you, Miss Moser, Jes how the thing come to be (No, I don't mind it a mossel; 'Tis ruther a comfort to me)- Jes how the suckumst'nce hapint, How, on a bright sumer day, p
Thirty-one year come nex' August, Benny, my boy, run away ...
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Benny was allus projectin' Works that he'd kery right through. Peert ? Well, he was, and determined- Jes what he sed he would do. I let the honey, Mis Moser, Do pooty much as he choose; How could her son a lone widow, How could a mother, refuse ?
Hiram M'Comas-Dan's Hiram- Lived up agin' the P'int Ridge, Down in the Cany Branch Hollow (Thar's whar the Yanks built the bridge Time they and our folk war fightin') : Hiram a sailor had bin, But had come back to the mountings, Sayin' he'd die with his kin.
Benny he took so to Hiram- Hiram who lived by himself Full half a mile on the mounting, Back on the uppermost shelf ; Liked to hear Hiram tell stories All about big ships that swim Out on the salt, stormy ocean- Hiram, he took some to him.
Well, I remember one mornin' . Forgyson's Nancy come down Over the gap in the mounting, Ridin' for store goods to town. Benny come ridin' behind her- He'd bin to Hiram's all night- And ef that Hiram he hadn't Marked him twell he was a sight.
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I never see sich a figger When the pore boy was ondressed- Speckled tattooin', he called it, Over his arms and his breast. Over his right arm was an anchor; Jes over that was a B; Over the top was a criss-cross ; Onder it all was an E.
You may allow that I washed him Tryin' to take it away ; Rubbed him an' scrubbed him all mornin', Worked with him nigh half a day. So I kept on tryin' an' tryin' Ontwell I thought I'd hev died ; Then I gin out in a passion, An' I sot down thar and cried.
Benny looked up, an' sed, "mother, That's the way all sailors do." "Do they ?" sez I; "then I'll larn you Hiram shan't play tricks on you." Out came the switch from the corner, An'-for my temper was riz- Didn't I work on the creatur,' Tannin' that body of his.
Benny he didn't and wouldn't Let out a tear or a cry; "Mother," he sed, "a true sailor Wouldn't sing out ef he' die. Never you mind, now you're lickin', Make it a good one, for shore You kin jes bet all your silver Benny you'll never lick more.
Residence of S. B. Browning
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"Tisn't no use of your huggin'- No, I won't give you a kiss, See, if I don't make you sorry- Sorry you've licked me like this. I'll run away for a sailor ; I'll be a pride to my kin; Never twell he's a rich captain You shell see Benny again'.
Then he run off up the hollow; That didn't give me a fright, Reck'nin' he'd gone off to Hiram's, Meanin' to stay thar all night. But when I sent up nex' mornin', Through me it went with a jar, When the word came back from Hiram's, Benny, he hadn't been thar.
When we had raised all the country, By-an'-by up come a man, Sayin' he'd seen sich a youngster Down at the mouth of Guyan. Thar was the last we could trace him; That was the last place he'd bin ; Thirty-one years come next August I never saw him again'.
No, I've no hope that I'll see him ; P'r'aps when I'm dead we may meet; Wonder if He has a mother -- He that lies onder yan sheet ? Wonder if His arm is speckled ? Let's turn the sleeve up, an' see; God-Oh my Benny-My captain, Have you, then, come back to me ?
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Hogan Chamber of Commerce
Along about the month of June in the year 1913, there came creeping into the broad and intellectual minds of S. B. Browning and Clarence McD. England, an idea that it would be an excellent thing for the city of Logan as well as the county, to organize a Chamber of Commerce, the ob- ject of which would be the betterment in every way of the city as well as the county. Accordingly these gentlemen invited several of the business men of the town to meet to- gether for a discussion of the subject and at a social meet- ing held on the 9th day of May, 1913, the present Chamber of Commerce was launched. About thirty of the business men of the city formed the charter members and the first election of officers resulted in the election of the fol- lowing: C. McD England, President, S. B. Browning, Vice President, and Robert Burns, Secretary. Dues were fixed at the sum of $6 annually. The By-Laws provide that of- ficers hold office for a term of one year and at the expiration of the first year J. J. Ross was elected President, S. Brown- ing Vice President and F. S. Schuster, Secretary. Their ad- ministration was so satisfactory that at the expiration of their term they were again elected to serve again and are the present officers of this organization. Today the chamber has 110 members every one of whom believe in Logan. They believe nothing can stand in the way of her commercial advancement and prosperity, they believe in her past and her present and have absolute faith in her future.
This body of gentlemen, formed for the purpose of the up- building of this city and field has been a Godsend to the com- munity for it has been through their untiring efforts that the schools, roads, sanitary conditions and every movement tending to the betterment of the county has been advanced to their present degree of perfection.
Being composed of men who are broad minded, energetic, ambitious and progressive, they have devoted their time, energy, means and untiring efforts for the betterment of Lo-
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gan. These men are always busy but never so engrossed in their business that they will not spend a portion of their time to advance the interests of the county and it is indeed, a pleasure to be greeted by any of the members and spend a while in conversation with them. A man will leave them with a better feeling, happier that he is alive and allowed to enjoy the good fellowship, friendship and good will of such a splendid body of men. They are not in the least miserly or greedy for they stand with outstretched arms and extend to you an invitation to come to Logan, help to enjoy the blessings to be found here and to share in the wealth of this vast, rich field. We need you and if you will favor us with a trip of inspection you will find each and every member of the Chamber of Commerce ready and will- ing to lend you every effort to make your visit one of pleas- ure as well as profit and we feel sure that you will decide to cast your lot with us.
Should you see standing around any of the members with a hungry look upon his face it is not the result of an empty stomach, but a hungry desire to be of service to you and contribute his mite toward your pleasure while you may linger in our midst. With all this vast amount of industry, surrounding us on all sides, demanding a huge quantity of material of all kinds, Logan needs, and needs badly, many more plants and industries of all kinds, to supply these demands and the Chamber of Commerce stands ready at all hours to furnish you with any information you may desire, pertaining to this field, and they are bidding you come and see for seeing is believing. While they are all business men, they fear not competion, nor do they fight it, but on the other hand they invite it, for in the upbuilding of Logan they will be accomplishing the purpose of the organization and satisfying a desire to see a bigger, better and more pro- presive city.
What has been accomplised by this organization will be nothing in comparison to what they will accomplish, for with each new success scored by them only fires them with
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the desire to do more and knowing these men as I do I ven- ture to predict that their efforts that are so willingly be- ing given for the interests of te county and city will be crowned with the glory of success well won and deserved for where there is a will a way will always be found and the Logan Chamber of Commerce, to use the vernacular of the street urchin, is "broke out" with the will.
Host Office and Hostmasters
The author is indebted to Hon. Edward Cooper, Congress- man from this Congressional District, for the information relating to the list of postmasters. Mr. Cooper secured for me this list from the files of the Post Office Department in Washington and it therefore cannot fail to be absolutely correct. The name of the office in the early period was Lo- gan Court House, the name being changed on May 31, 1892. Since that time it has been known as Logan.
We find that the first postmaster to be appointed was Edwin Robertson, who was appointed May 17, 1826 who served until June 25, 1827 when John Lawson was appoint- ed and took charge of the office. L. B. Lawson, succeeded John and the date of his appointment was October 8, 1831. Next came Anthony Lawson, Jr. who was appointed August 27, 1838 and he held office until April 28, 1847 when he was succeeded by R. A. Stratton. C. P. Bryan was the next in- cumbent who was appointed December 7, 1848. George E. Bryan, was the next postmaster under appointment dated September 2, 1850. He was succeeded by A. W. Hatfield, who was appointed February 3, 1852 who held office for a few months and was succeeded by J. A. Nighbert who was appointed October 16, 1852. Mr. Nighbert administered the postal affairs of Uncle Sam at Logan for a period of only sixty days when he was succeeded by E. T. Tiltotson, who was appointed December 16, 1852. A. S. Bryan, under ap- pointment dated June 21, 1853, was the next man to take charge of the office and after five years of service he step-
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ped down and gave way to Rufus Bryan who assumed the duties under appointment dated September 23, 1857. The Bryans along about this time appear to have made the of- fice on e of the family for we find that Rufus was succeeded by George E. Bryan, who took charge under appointment bearing date of June 25, 1860. A. C. Ferrell was the next man to meet with the approval of the administration and he received an appointment under date of August 1, 1860. Ferrell handled the office through the days of the Civil War but after its close he turned the reins over to J. R. Wheeler, who came in with an appointment bearing date of March 1, 1866. The next incumbent was the only postmistress Logan ever had to serve them with their mail, this being Pelima Cartwright who was appointed April 6, 1866 and held the office until May 21, 1867 when it was turned over to Thomas Buchanan. Buchanan held the office for nearly six years and then delivered it into the care and keeping of S. S. Al- tizer, who had received an appointment dated February 10, 1873.
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On September 23, 1873, J. B. Buskirk received the ap- pointment and took charge, being in turn succeeded by F. M. White, who bears the distinction of being Logan's post- master at three different times. White received the ap- pointment July 5, 1876 but held the office not quite two years when he relinquished the duties to R. E. Lowe to hold the office for about five months when he received another appointment June 14, 1878 and again was harnessed with the official duties of the office. Henry Clay Ragland, who in his day played a prominent part in the affairs of Logan was the next to be smiled on b ythe administration and he received an appointment June 23, 1881.
April 16, 1883, Uncle Sam informed F. M. White that he again could affix P. M. to his name and he waded into postol affairs once again. George W. Godby was next in favor and found an appointment for him dated October 24, 1884.
J. B. Buskirk, was the next receiver of the official plum and he was appointed April 24, 1885. M. W. Perry then
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took charge of the postal business on June 11, 1899 who held the office about six months and delivered the key to L. C. White who came in with appointment dated January 20, 1890. M. W. Hawley was the last postmaster to have charge of the office while it bore the name of Logan Court House. He was appointed August 12, 1891. The name of the office was shortened by droping the title of Court House on May 31, 1892 and on the same date George L. Carder assumed the duties. J. B. Buskirk was dove .... ille .. be out-done by F. M. White, and he again received an ap- pointment fo rthe third time dated May 4, 1893.
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