The following is a series of letters sent to the Franklin-Favorite and published in 1915. They were written by John Hise Milliken was born in Franklin in 1855. He grew up in a small home at the corner of Madison and Main Streets and was witness to many events in Franklin. Mr. Milliken started working for the L. & N. Railroad about 1882 and was very involved in community affairs. Around 1898 his job as District Passenger Agent for the railroad necessitated a move to Louisville. Even while he was in Louisville, he tried to keep up with old friends and activities in Franklin. One of his hobbies was to preserve the history of Franklin. John Milliken died in Louisville in 1928 and he was brought back to his home in Franklin to be laid to rest with his family in Green Lawn Cemetery.
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We owe a great thanks to John Milliken for writing these letters as the possibly the best single source of information about Franklin in the 1800's. The letters have been divided into chapters and given a subtitle just for the purpose of helping keep of the subject matter. The letters are mostly in their original form with small changes in punctuation and spelling to make reading easier and more fluid. Notes have been added at the end of some chapters in order to clarify stories, people and facts that were well known at the time of writing but possibly not so well known today. Please excuse any misspellings or errors as are inherent with newspaper print over 100 years old. Any corrections or insights are welcome.
Chapter One
The Pioneers
Along the mental line of the great dim mists of time, there doubtless arise in the minds and hearts of all many thoughts of the irretrievable past with its environments of pleasure and sadness. With this in mind, would it be unwise or considered encroaching upon the very valuable space of your quite worth and highly esteemed paper to retrospect, to go into the past and brush the dust of years from its closed volumes and open anew its pages recalling the minds of those yet living, and to the children, grandchildren, relative and friends of those who have passed to the Great Beyond, recollections, many of which have ceased through the lapse of time to be part of memory?
If permitted, it will afford me pleasure to go back into the great corridors of time and attempt to renew incidents and scenes that to duce her to make disclosures that I trust will prove interesting to all and offensive to none.
It will not be the purpose of the writer to recall to mind and kindle gnaw, incidents and scenes that, to many, might bring heart-aches and possibly, for the first time, give information to descendants of participants in many of the unfortunate episodes forming a great factor in the early history of Franklin and Simpson County. To my mind, there could be nothing gained, by so doing. In their elimination, I recognize the loss of much valuable early history connected therewith, but their enactments have long since been passed upon by both the public and courts and their right or wrong adjusted and relegated to the past, there so far as the writer is concerned, they will rest.
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Many of the descendants of participants are dearly beloved friends of the writer who would not for all the good and glory to be achieved in this world be guilty of causing one moment of sorrow or kindle the spark of hatred in the bosom of one living soul. To the contrary, I would add all the happiness possible and have them continue in the present walk of life, from the day they first saw the light to that of this good hour. Franklin, Simpson County, has been their home and my home, their mothers have been friends of my mother, and to me there are no two words in all the English language that so thoroughly portray absolute bliss, to those that possess them, as the words home and mother. Home is the bright, blessed, adorable phantom that sits highest on the sunny horizon that girdles life. When shall it cease to be a daydream and become fully and fairly yours? It is not the house, though that may have had its charms; nor the fields carefully tilled and streaked with your own footprints; nor yet is it the fireside, nor the pictures that tell of loved ones, nor the cherished books but more than all these. It is home and mother. There is the altar of your confidence, the end of worldly faith is there and adorning it all sending your blood in passionate flow, it is the ecstasy of the conviction that there at least you are beloved, that there you are understood, that there your errors will meet with ever the gentlest forgiveness , that there your problems will be smiled away, and that there you may unburden your soul, fearless of harsh unsympathetic ears.
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May I not ask, may I not expect, that in coming back to this blessed spot, the place where I was given birth, the place wherein so much of life full of happiness and blissful daydreams were crowded together. In so short a space of time, and above and beyond all this, the fact that in its hallowed earth, rest the remains of loved ones, whose memory is entwined with many of the events, of which, we shall write, that our readers will be lenient with criticism and accept the will for the deed.
Way back in the infancy of Franklin, antedating that part of “Retrospective”, of which it is our purpose to write, but of which it is necessary to make mention in order that its founding may be coordinated with that of the period of which we attempt to connect evidences. Forming a part or in making history, it is related that commissioners or trustees delegated with authority for making surveys and laying out and founding of Franklin at or near what was known in the early history of the town as "old sporty pond”. This was a long pond that paralleled the east side of the Louisville and Nashville Pike, just between the old Porter Aspley home and the Beverley L. Clark home, just opposite the old fair grounds of recent years, the property of Mrs. Robert Phillips. Those desiring the location of Franklin at this point used every means available and known to the art of persuasion and formed that success would attend their efforts. At the eleventh hour, that fatal hour so well known it seemed at one time, so we are into many the advocates or promoters, for the surveying and locating of Franklin, just where it is today, played their last, and evidently, their trump card.
At the head of this little band of pioneers, in the history making of Franklin, was one Mr. Hudspeth, the father of Samuel Hudspeth, owning nearly all the land from where Franklin now stands to a point some two miles directly south and ranging from one to one and a half miles on either side of the Louisville and Nashville Pike. It is related that, after a week's hard work, by the advocates of both locations, those under the direction of Hudspeth conceived the idea of giving to the commissioners or trustees, a big barbecue at which all the slaves owned by Hudspeth were employed in the preparation of appetizing food to tickle the palates of the commissioners. It would appear that, even at this early date, it was well known fact that mere man could be reached best through his stomach. Accordingly, at the end of the vigorous fight for the location of Franklin, the announcement was made to the large gathering that they would be banqueted with a barbeque on the following and the last day before the decision would be made as to the location. The barbecue was staged at some point near the center of the present site of Franklin and it is vouched for by descendants of those who participated in the festivities, that the barbecue caught the commissioners and on the following day, Franklin was surveyed and laid out where it stands today and started on the road to the enviable position it occupies on the map of the state and in the hearts of untold thousands of citizens past and present.
Between this history making period and the time at which the writer appeared on the horizon, making the inception, wherein he is able to write from his own observations and experiences, there was little that might be characterized as history making and of sufficient interest to warrant recital here, hence we will begin “Retrospection” at or near a time when all can and will grasp the epoch making period. Our readers will doubtless recall that as advance information we stated that “Retrospection” would cover a period and it is on this period we will write.
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We are reminded when starting out on this self-imposed task of the difficulties, dangers, hardships and discouraging conditions that confronted the little band of pioneer settlers that established Franklin for when we consider the lack of transportation facilities to points where the very necessities of life were to be secured and the return of all marketable materials to these same points, we begin to realize all too seriously; true hardships and trials of this little band of frugal, God-fearing people. This one or the main features of the many tribulations of pioneers was in itself, sufficient for discouragement and might have wrought serious results to others but not with our little band of settlers who being of that determination that brings success, where perseverance and a stick together principle is adhered to won out and the dear little town of Franklin, in its swaddling clothes of log huts, thatched roofs, slab walks and stores of equally conventional proportion, beamed and glistened in the of perseverance and desire to succeed and it became a trading center for citizens of not only its own county, but of adjoining counties in this and the state of Tennessee. This much achieved, the star of success seemed to stop in its transit of the business heavens and rest contentedly over the dear little village, as if viewing with its good citizens in dispensing its desirability as a home, its environments that were seductive of business acumen and more than all its possibilities for the future, that have so beautifully, so thoroughly placed our beloved Franklin on the map, there to remain a heritage to the genius, the loyalty and the self-sacrifice of its settlers.
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In its second state, or that of the learning to walk period, through which Franklin was passing the dignity of county seat of Simpson County was slowly and gracefully manifesting itself and being added to its other attractions and the real business life assumed dignified propositions. Here began the erection of suitable buildings in keeping with and for the transaction of all business pertaining there to and accordingly the first courthouse, an oblong one story structure brick structure was erected on the north west corner of the present court house square; and the county and circuit clerk's office, also one story and one room each, was erected on the southeast corner of the square, outside the present enclosure of the courthouse square. It will be interesting to our readers, politically inclined to know that the spirit of rivalry for office was as acute and antagonistic in this period or the town and county's history, as it is today, and is related of one of its young, citizens whose name was Benjamin Bell, son of George Bell, of the Old Bell Homestead, now owned by Mebane Sloss. That upon the result of an election for County Attorney, in which a dear friend of Mr. Bell's was defeated, an enthusiastic friend of the success candidate and desire to give vent to his feelings, got into the old court house where access could be had to the first new and only big bell in the county, that had been installed in a small cupola at the front of the building and made the welkin ring and the tempers of the defeated opponents bristled with revenge. Accordingly, Mr. Bell delegated himself to put a stop to such unwarranted hilarity as he. viewed it. He proceeded to the courthouse and ordered the excited admirer to cease ringing that bell and informed that there was present, a bell he couldn't ring and if he didn't cease at once, he would proceed to prove it. It is said the bell ceased ringing.
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Notes: The George Bell/Mebane Sloss home was built in 1867 by Allie Salmons. After being owned by Mebane Sloss, James Larue owned the property and it burned in 1928.
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The "old Sporty Pond" was located about where McDonalds stands today on North Main Street.
Chapter Two
The Civil War and the Executions at the Courthouse
Now, out of the infantile state, Franklin was fast realizing her growth and daily donning the dignity to commensurate with her importance. The relay for stage lines operating between Louisville and Nashville now located in the town, and the actual presence of surveyor for the proposed Louisville and Nashville Railroad, made its growth a continuous, overnight expectation and realization. The daily arrival of new and acceptable citizens who having learned of the rapid growth of Franklin had come to cast their lots with and share the aspirations and possibilities of our people. These pronounced conditions accelerated the laudable ambition of our citizens for expansion and in consequence, the erection of pretentious and substantial buildings was begun to meet the requirements of this rapid development and there arose the big, three story sky scraper, considered so at that time erected by the Masons, on the northeast corner of be public square, where it stands today, a monument to public spirit that might well have been emulated within the past fifteen or twenty years.
The first courthouse, on the south west corner of the square, gave way to the second, erected on the site where now stands the third or present courthouse, its predecessor having been destroyed by fire, of which, we will treat later. Pretentious stores of brick sprang up, as if by magic, and Franklin was acknowledged to be in the zenith of deserved prosperity, commanding the attention and admiration of neighboring towns and villages and in no small way, adding daily to her population but alas just here appeared the ominous clouds that everywhere fore-shadowed the breach that was hourly widening and dividing our great and glorious country into two distinct indominable fighting forces, each having faith in the justice of its cause, without, apparently the slightest chance for settlement, honorable to both, leaving no possibility of peace.
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The sun's rays on a bright day in the southland, had scarcely faded away upon the horizon when lo! there came from proud old Fort Sumpter a flash and a roar that reached all parts of our beloved land and in a twinkling was wafted to the far quarters of the earth. War! Terrible war was on, states were taking sides and the lowliest hamlet was affected. The rattle of the saber, the click of the musket and the steady tread of the flower of young manhood were to be seen and heard upon every hand. It was the North against the South or the Union against the Confederacy, and the struggle for supremacy was at its height. Business, happiness, prosperity and peace, in every clime and quarter of our fair land had been struck a death blow, stagnation in all business and social relations was naturally the consequence and our own little Franklin shared the deplorable privations and estrangements with rest of our stricken country.
The war was now three years old. The Louisville and Nashville Railroad had been completed as far as Nashville, and trains commandeered, loaded with militia, were passing Franklin all during the day and night; The old Louisville and Nashville pike was a veritable bedlam of marching soldiers, cavalry and artillery pouring back and forth through the adjoining states, and engagements, between the rival forces were occurring with regularity. It was during one of these skirmishes, in the northern part of the state, that the famous, terror-producing "Texas Rangers" were first seen in this section. These were dare-devil cowboys, men absolutely without fear and were all versed in the dexterous use of the lasso, so widely heralded for its cruelty and torture to those unfortunate enough to provoke its use and all along their route they had produced terror. Franklin was nervously awaiting their arrival, for we were on their line of march. The fondness of the Rangers to dash into a town, lasso people and race off with their prey had struck terror to the minds and hearts of everyone, especially the colored population. Never will I forget a visit to our little home at this time. It was a cold, snowy winter night, when the steady beat of the hoofs of horses passing the house was broken by a voice at our front gate crying, "Hello! Hello!" The call aroused the family and my father went out to investigate. To his astonishment, a cousin of my mother's, a Ranger, who sought to secure our residence from violation called for information as to the location of our home. My father informed him that he was at that time talking the husband of his relative and asked him to dismount saying that he would have the horse put in the stable. Summoning help for this purpose, we were surprised to find our Ranger relative frozen tight in the saddle. He and the saddle were soon extricated from the horse and carried into the house. A big fire was made, a hot cup of coffee prepared, and quite soon the identity of our Ranger relative was disclosed. There was but little sleep to be had that night. A recital of the hardships, exposure, dangers and innumerable trials incident to war was listened to with deep interest but in the midst of it our Ranger relative slopped abruptly and said, “What about my horse? What did you do with him?" "He is in the stable" replied my father. "Well I am about thawed out and feel warm and comfortable" replied our relative, "so I will go to the stable and guard my horse." We tried to prevail upon him not to do such a thing, but to go to bed and he would be called early next morning, that he might continue his journey north, but this was not satisfactory, and he said "No I can't comply with your request. With these soldiers passing through here during the night, my horse would surely be stolen, and I wouldn’t lose him for all the money in the world." Seeing his determination to guard his horse, the family acquiesced and after three or four hours stay in our home, our relative left us and took up his watch beside his horse, having been informed that he would be called for breakfast. In leaving us he passed from our home for all time for some time during the night during a driving snowstorm, he departed, and we never saw him again. Later we were informed by another relative of his death in battle somewhere in the Southland.
I remember, and doubtless there are many others who will be able to recall, here in Franklin, the organization of a Federal Company, afterward attached to the regiment known as the "Fifty Toosters," the majority of these members having come from the hill section east of our county. They did but little fighting, as I now remember it, but seemed to require constant excitement. Accordingly, a big, stout fellow with a tremendous paunch on him was shot accidentally, the bullet passing through his big paunch. I witnessed the passing of a silk handkerchief by a physician through the wound. ln in fact, it was seesawed back and forth to cleanse the wound of blood and that fellow got well. If such a thing were to happen today right onto the operating table, he would go and its dollars to doughnuts he would pass to the Great Beyond.
Our town was garrisoned by two companies of Federal Militia and small bodies were sent out, daily for scouting and observation purposes. They got into a skirmish with the enemy, captured several Confederate soldiers and brought them into the town. Later they were given a trial by court martial but as is usual in such cases, the execution of six of them was ordered but at the last moment, only two of them met the actual fate that awaited them. It has always been my wish that memory of that awful scene might fade away. As a mere boy, brim full of curiosity, I stood the day of the execution in the midst of the throng that been drawn to this terrible scene through idle curiosity, and for the want of a better example and especially judgment, we waited with bated breath, the coming of the men to their doom. Two plain wooden boxes were placed against the south side of the courthouse upon either side of the entrance. This gruesome performance was soon followed by a detachment of twelve soldiers, the firing squad, and in their fear marched the weak and humble sacrifices, blindfolded, both being seated upon the wooden boxes. The moment was tense and exceedingly sad. I stood petrified with fear awaiting the last ordeal in the tragic lives of these two men, listening for the order, "Make ready! Fire!" To my astonishment I felt something tugging at my sleeve; I turned and there stood my blessed mother, "Come" she said. I was always obedient to my parents and followed to the front gate of our little home before another word passed between us. "Come into the house quickly" said mother. "Why?” I replied. "My child, you have no business to witness such fate as awaits those poor men." In the meantime, mother was letting down the windows and closing the doors which were open as it was in the spring of the year. I took my seat near the bed in my mother's room, and all at once my head was covered with pillows in the hands of my mother. When I had extricated myself, the execution had taken place but not a sound fell upon my ears.
These poor fellows were buried in an unmarked grave in a vacant lot, which in time became a garden near the beautiful home of Jas. L. McGoodwin. Many years afterward their remains were disinterred and carried to one of the Confederate cemeteries in the south. Today, they enjoy the slumber of forgetfulness, in a land of perennial glory, now lettered and confined to a known grave. Somewhere under God's bright sun, I know not where, as the receding rays of a bright spring day kissed themselves to sleep beneath the ocean waves, there doubtless, stood at an old homestead gate, a watchful, prayerful, devoted mother, who listened and raised her glasses to, if possible, a discerning familiar figure approaching. Was it her soldier boy? Alas! No, the persons passed slowly and with a bleeding heart she retraces her steps to the house and mechanically seated herself in the old armchair beside the window to again take up her watch for the soldier boy that never returned. Who knows but what one of those poor fellows was that long looked for boy, destined never to see that mother's face again?
Notes: The Masonic Building still stands today at the northwest corner of Main and Kentucky Streets although it has had some windows removed and was covered with a layer of Permastone. The location of the author's home which the Texas Ranger visited was approximately at the corner of Madison and Main Streets, later the site or the Dr. J.C. Douglas home and now a parking lot.
Along the L. & N. Railroad, Ellis Harper led a band of guerillas that continued to harass Union soldiers. Harvey Travelstead of Simpson County informed Union authorities of some of Harpers movements. After learning of this betrayal, Harper led a few of his men to Smyrna Cumberland Presbyterian Church where Travelstead was attending service and took him outside and killed him. About the same time, Harper went to the home of Hensley Harris near Pilot Knob to impress upon him the need for silence. When Harris would not open the door, Harper or one of his men fired through the door killing Harris three-year-old son. Harris was enraged and armed himself and ran out the door and was shot down. Although his wounds were severe, Harris did eventually recover. In response to these and other acts, Maj. General Stephen Burbridge, a Logan County farmer before the war who was military commander of Kentucky, issued orders that whenever an unarmed Union citizen was murdered, four guerillas were to be selected from prisoners to be executed.
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As a result of this order, Brig. General Ewing had three men, J. Bloom, J. H. Cave (of Shelby County) and W. B. McClasson, who were imprisoned in Louisville, sent to Franklin August 20, 1864, under a strong guard for execution. Lt. Adams and a detachment of twenty men from the 26th Kentucky Volunteers took charge of the prisoners upon their arrival in Franklin.
After their arrival in Franklin, word was received that Cave was to be returned to Louisville. Bloom and McClasson both refused to confess to any wrong doings but at 6 p.m., Bloom and McClanahan were marched to the square from the depot, blindfolded and shot by a firing squad on the south side of the courthouse yard. Bloom denied he ever belonged to the guerilla band until the end. McClanahan sank to the ground and died without speaking. Another guerilla, who claimed to be an enlisted man, Jasper Steward was also executed at another date.
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The soldiers were buried at an empty lot which became the flower garden of Mrs. James McGoodwin. This two story brick home still stands today on the south side of East Cedar Street east of the railroad. The remains were said to be disinterred later but no grave site is known for these men.
Chapter Three
Life After the Civil War
The town of Franklin was particularly fortunate in escaping skirmish actions between the contending forces of any great magnitude. The only one that had the semblance of a fight or small sized battle, and that too without any serious results to the contestants on either side except the wasting of considerable ammunition took place in the southeastern section of the county, outside the town limits, just back of the Female College, in that section known as Fisher’s Meadow, running parallel with the old Springfield, Tenn. Road. The contestants were scouting parties from militias garrisoning this place and a wandering band of confederates and it was now conceded that the war was about over, and peace would shortly result.
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In a brief time the glad news of peace sweet peace, was announced from Washington D. C. and almost immediately the country began to readjust itself but unfortunately for this State and Tennessee, another brand of warfare was inaugurated, that of bush-whacking by bands of men giving themselves grotesque and gruesome names and operating as Guerillas. This character of warfare was indulged in to meet out innocent men deserts according to the bands idea for having an opinion and daring to defend and proclaim. Many men were hurried to their makers presence without warning for positions they held or the expression of opinions they may have ventured. This lawless element was a great detriment to this state and adjoining states and greatly humbled efforts to adjust business affairs and seriously hindered in the work of reconstruction. Many men were forced to hurriedly sell all their belongings and migrate to some place of safety in the north. We do not propose to say whether such enforced movements were justified or not. Advocates for both sides of this much discussed question had at that time and doubtless their descendants still have their own opinions in these matters. So far as the writer is concerned, they shall retain them without argument.
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There is one man however of whom I shall speak, and it gives me pleasure to do so, who stood his ground and refused to be intimidated. This was the Hon. Sam Sympson, the father of Thomas and Robert Sympson of our own dear Franklin, a more honorable, high minded, man never drew breath. He was loyal and devoted to principle and friend and in his highly influential position with the United States Government was often the last resource for condemned citizens who would have been shot or sent to some distant prison had it not been for this good man, but never in a single instance did he falter when called upon for service. He invariably secured the release of the arrested citizen. The father of the writer was one, among hundreds, who shared this good man's confidence and unswerving friendship and upon more than one occasion did he intercede for my father and secure his release from custody and in turn when conditions were reversed, my father stood by Mr. Sympson and secured his release, when it looked gloomy for him.
Business and social conditions were just beginning to adjust themselves. There were many families that had lost the heads of their households or devoted and loved ones in this terrible war. They fought for what they believed to be right. There were no apologies to be made and the angel hosts of heaven could not bring them back. The die cast it was to look to the future, begin anew life's work and right here is where the town of Franklin began the race to the position of supremacy, she occupies in the world today. We must admit however, there is still room for expansion and improvement in the dear, good city.
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As with one accord, the good people of town and county, now that peace was a reality, and all the Guerilla bands had been put out commission, began to put their homes and businesses in order, to take up the thread of life and follow it to its ending.
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Where so much fear and hardship had prevailed, the people now craved a change in many ways, especially was this pronounced as to pleasure, something to mind and heart, something to change the current thought from the sad past. Accordingly, the spirited young men of the town, headed by James N. LaRue, Capt. R. P. Finn just returned from the war, John J. LaRue, Wm. H. Crowdus, Thos. W. Stringer. Virgil McGoodwin, and “Red John” Milliken as call boy assisted by Mrs. James N. Larue (nee Mary Finn), Mrs. Thomas W. Stringer (nee Teresa Bowling). And many others whose name escape me organized what was then termed a “Thespian Club” which would be known today as a "Dramatic Club”. The work under way. Organized and perfected. It was not long until hand bills, printed on an old Washington hand press for there was no job press then, were being distributed throughout the town announcing the first performance at the Masonic Temple which had been fitted with curtains. It was quite impressive, and all were proud of the event.
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Never will I forget the first performance, such an outpouring of good people from town and county was never dreamed of by the most sanguine of the company. It is but simple justice to these participants of the plays to say that at each and every performance they appeared to capacity houses. All seats and standing room sold out and no 'thought of such a thing as fire. This was doubtless due to the that candles were then the only means of lighting, aside from the “tallow dip”. It was quite interesting to watch the lantern parade citizens in route to these entertainments. There were no streetlamps and each family provided itself with a lantern most of these being tin globes, punctured with little holes for the emission of the rays of light from the tallow candle inside. Some more fortunate citizens just returned from the city markets flashed glass globed lanterns, but they were few and far between. The parade was worth going miles to see and was enjoyed by everybody.
An orchestra composed of home talent, furnished the music between sets and when needed during the acts to emphasize the terror or excitement of a “crossing the bridge” passage in the play. You know what I mean, that trembly music denotes "chills and fever" condition necessary to the proper effect in the staging of an inspiring and exciting play. It's that particular time when the heroine emerges from a brush heap and rushes frantically to her lover, pinioned on a railroad, while the Midnight Limited train Is seen In the distance, but Ah! just in the nick of time, a knife flashes, the binding ropes are if cut and the hero jumps to safety just as the train speeds by, with utter contempt of the situation. These awe-inspiring scenes and many others, with proper thrills were never overlooked by the critical eye of the stage manager James N. LaRue. I can recall a few of the plays then presented, such as "William Tell”, “Ten Nights in a Bar-room", "The Robbers Cave," and "Box and Cox" all of which were being given in large cities. The tragic or heavy roles in these plays ore always entrusted to Jas. N. LaRue and Capt. Finn, who always acquitted themselves, with the entire satisfaction to their audiences. Miss Mary Finn, now Mrs. James N. Larue was always the tragedienne and her interpretations of the parts assigned her were not excelled by even the most approved professional artist. Her technique was so wonderful, and her histrionic ability so marked that had she cared to do so, she could have become, with the proper advantage, a star of national repute. Mrs. Larue’s popularity extended to other counties and surrounding towns offered flattering inducements to the club for performances, but each invitation was promptly refused, all because “Miss Mary” as she was affectionately known, had no such ambitions or desires. She had given her time and talents to the good people of her hometown at a time when personal sacrifices were asked, and thereby, doubly endeared herself to all but she would go no farther. She was unquestionably one of the most beloved and popular young ladies that the town and county ever called their own.
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Miss Teresa Bowling now Mrs. T. W. Stringer, was the next lady in waiting to Mrs. LaRue in the roles of the different plays and always acquitted herself with pleasure to her audience and with satisfaction to the critical eye of the stage manager. Miss Bowling was quite an artist in her lines and in addition to her parts in the plays, delighted audience with and beautiful song and dance. She was a graceful attractive young lady and half the younger men of the town were madly in love with her but Tom Stringer, he of the newspaper selling fame, finally outdistance the onrushing admirers and captured the coveted prize.
The next member of the company to secure especial and unquestioned popularity was William H. Crowdus, the premier comedian, who could hardly come on stage to give his lines that the audiences wouldn’t roar with laughter. His very gestures would convulse the people and it invariably required several minutes to restore order. There are still living many people who will read these lines relative to this good man and recall happy moments enjoyed at his expense. Then turn and gaze through tear dimmed eyes to that something that bears relation to the hereafter. If the conduct of a man on this earth leads to the reward, he deserves then Will Crowdus wears an angel's crown.
As a whole, our highly prized and appreciated "Thespian Club" was a success and not a man, woman or child failed to realize and bless the members for their unselfish and timely services which afforded diversity when It was most needed. To those members who many years ago, crossed over the Dark River, we can but add, requiescat in pace. To those still with us, may they receive their rewards for lives of devotion to others and angel crowns bedeck their brows is the prayerful wish of the writer.
There was a "Theatrical Club" antedating the one of which we have just written, but it existed prior to arrival of the writer into this country, hence what little information I am able to give relative to it must be accepted with this fact in mind. There are, however, two or more of its members still with us, and, in recalling the circumstances, if my memory of here say reports is not exact, possibly they will correct or make suggestions that will be appreciated. The club was organized and the big wareroom of John Woodrow's furniture and cabinet department on the north side of the square, located above where the present post office now stands, was converted into a hall in which to give the performances. The stage was erected in the western end and the eastern end contained seats arranged after the fashion of the present-day circus seating arrangements. Candles and "dips" afforded light for these affairs. Among the male members as we recall the names given us were John Woodrow, Jas. L. McGoodwin, Jas. H. Dashwood John A. Finn, Chas. W. Milliken and Volney Boisseau. Unfortunately, the names of the female members escape me but the mere reference to these entertainments will give pleasure to many and doubtless be the means of securing more information in regard to them. I remember having been told that the audiences would become convulsed with laughter at the name of James B. McClean, who was the comedian of the company and his performances were a pure panacea for all ailments resulting from the blues or depression of any kind, Mr. McClean is still living and it is yet possible to discern this vein of humor so much enjoyed and to he enjoyed.
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Notes: Fishers Meadow was described as the site of a skirmish was located behind the Female College to Springfield Road. This would include an area from the current High School to what is now known as Seng Subdivision. No other description has been found yet of exactly where Fishers Meadow was but it is possible that its owner was Clement Fisher, an early resident of Franklin who is mentioned later.
Chapter Four
1870's
Amusements were of a diversified nature. Many neighborhoods had quilting bees and "snap" parties in which considerable kissing was permitted, and they of course were popular. Occasionally, dancing was indulged in. Brand dances or picnics in this and adjoining counties were frequent.
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I remember an experience that afforded much pleasure and occasional gossip, of an innocent nature. with the following well known persons as participants: Mr. and Mrs. Chas. W. Milllken; Mrs. J. H. Herrlngton (nee Elvira Mahin): Mrs. J. C. Douglass (nee Lou Bell), Mrs. H. D. Wade (nee Narcissa Mahin), and Mr. Chas. F. Potter. At this particular time, the depressed condition of many families, resulting from the war, especially where husbands had been lost, and widows were left alone, to take up the burden of life, was making itself felt, and hardly a week passed that people were not Importuned to do this or that, for a stricken family, or a penniless widow with a house full of children. Suiting the occasion to the condition, the above-mentioned parties conceived the idea of converting a night of merriment into a good cause, that of assisting a distressed Confederate widow, with dependent children. Accordingly through agreement, they met at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Milliken, then located where the home of Dr. J. C. Douglass now stands and in a short time, the costume of a widow, in depressed and distressing circumstances, was ready and was donned by Mr. Milliken, who had studied the part well and could put up a tale of woe that would wring tears from the heart of a stone. It was a beautiful moon light night, and the parties were happy over the practical joke, they felt they would be successful in playing upon the good and unsuspecting townsfolk.
Everything ready, the start was made, and all were cautioned to keep quiet and at a respectful distance from the soliciting widow. Upon Mr. Potter fell the duty of recording the money received, if any, and the name of the donor. The first place visited was the residence of Mr. Clem Montague. The pitiful story, related by the soldier's widow, was too much for the kind, good heart of Mr. Montague, and he forthwith, handed out a liberal supply of cash and wished the soldier's widow God-speed. Several other residents were visited in the same neighborhood.
At that time there were few roads and no pavements were in the town, and in route to many of the residences, it was necessary to climb fences. It was a never to be forgotten sight the very unladylike deportment of the soldier’s widow, enacted by Mr. Milliken, climbing over fences. He went at it, as of old, and the same could be said, when asked for the use of his pocketknife. He invariably, went right down after the hem of the skirt and then to his trouser pocket. These acts so convulsed dear good Charlie Potter that he would fall upon the ground and roll over and over, until the others becoming convulsed, also from his contagious merriment, came very near giving away the whole scheme. The revelry continued with visits to the Boisseau and May's Hotels, to Murphy's Billiard Room, drug stores, and a few more residences. The wind up of the night's work found the soldier's widow in possession of fifty or more good dollars and not a breath of suspicion as to the identity of the widow. The parties then repaired to the then residence of Mr. and Mrs. Milliken, where coffee and sandwiches with roasted Irish potatoes were served and the night's experiences rehearsed and enjoyed to the fullest. But the troublesome part of the work was now at hand; that of returning the money to the proper owners, with explanations that would prove satisfactory. "Don't worry, talk's cheap, they will all be glad to get their money back" suggested Mr. Potter, and the little band of revelers stole away in the wee, small hours, for a bit of sleep. It was generally remarked next day by those who received the donations they had made that they were completely fooled. They said they had never heard a more reasonable, more pathetic story, than that related by the soldier's widow, but it was necessary, for several days for Mr. Milliken to remain close to his office, while Charlie Potter, for days, roared with laughter as he met each victim.
How many can recall the fire that destroyed the handsome home of the Swearingen on the south side of the square, occupying the space now occupied by R. H. Moore Drug Store and Williams, Ferguson & Co.’s stores? The yard of this palatial home had a frontage equal to the number of feet now covered by these three stores with a depth of fully eighty feet. Shrubbery and flowers decorated the yard, while the residence was one of the handsomest of which the state could boast. Many notable and memorable entertainments were given by the owners and many prominent men and ladies of national repute shared, at different times, the hospitality of this home. The destruction of this residence by fire was the beginning of the enlargement of the business interest of the town which have since kept pace with the times.
Do you remember the old Fisher residence on the east side of the square? It occupied the space about where the store of James C. McClean how stands. It was a low two-story frame structure that had the appearance of being converted into a store or salesroom, the rear portion being given over to the family. The front part contained a little of everything then on the market, including a big variety of canary and songbirds, looked after by Mrs. Fisher. How often the writer has sat beneath the old locust trees in front of this, to him, attractive place, and listened for hours to the sweet songs of these little birds, wishing so much to own one of them. Ah! those happy days, not a care or thought to mar blissful childhood, save the one desire to, if possible, possess one of those little prisoners in order to set it free.
This recalls an evening spent at the Fisher home, to observe the return of departed spirits, for it was a well-known fact that both Mr. and Mrs. Fisher were spiritualists, and they were not alone, for quite a little of tie colony of this sect or cult existed right here in Franklin. They were principally New England people, who had drifted to the west and south in quest of the prosperity that was everywhere predicted, for these two sections of our new country.
It was to one of these seances, at the Fisher home, through the courtesy of Mrs. Fisher, that the writer, as a mere boy, accompanied his mother one night, to secure firsthand, convincing proof of the spiritualistic return of dear ones gone to their reward. At the appointed time, quite a number of people were present, fully fifteen or twenty people. All were invited to a room containing a long table about which was arranged chairs for those present. The people were asked to be seated and to rest their hands upon the table palms up. This being done, all lights were extinguished, save one lone candle and this shaded so as to reflect the light, was placed in the center of the table. In a few moments, Mrs. Fisher announced the spirit of some note able person of that day and time but the name I cannot recall. So far as I was concerned, l could see "spooks," hobgoblins" or anything that could be Imagined, and I was very much ln favor of going home. In my condition, it is no wonder that the name escaped me. I wanted to be brave, but Just about this time, a tremendous rapping of the table occurred, and questions flew back and forth among those that were members of the cult. All at once, it ceased. Then both Mr. and Mrs. Fisher went through a lot of motions, including a flourishing of arms, but to no avail. A half hour was consumed in an endeavor to induce the spirits to manifest themselves, but all to no purpose. Finally, Mrs. Fisher announced that while she regretted to make the statement, she was compelled to say, in justice to others, that there was a non-believer at the table and the spirits refused to manifest themselves until this person was eliminated. No sooner said that my mother admitted that possibly, she was a non-believer, and in order to facilitate matters she would withdraw. She took me by the hand, and we started home, none the better, but a great deal wiser. What occurred after we left was never told us but my mother was thoroughly convinced at the utter fallacy of spiritualism. After the death of Mrs. Fisher, the lounge or single bed I upon which she breathed her last was painted white with gilt bordering a. and placed over her grave. There it served as a tombstone and on the headboard of this bed, the life story of this good woman was emblazoned in gilt letters. For years it served as an attraction or something out of the ordinary for those visiting Green Lawn Cemetery, but finally the hand of time, the leveler of all things earthly, accomplished its work and the bed fell away piece by piece until now only small fragments remain.
I do not vouch for the truthfulness of the following, told by Tom Stringer, for Tom was quite fond of teasing his companions, and dearly loved a good joke. It is said that Sam Whitesides and George Dashwood, two good hustlers, always out to earn an honest dime, and also rival "newsies”, got Information of a big barbecue, picnic and barn dance to be held over In Allen county, about sixteen miles east of Franklin. Accordingly, in order to keep out of competition, they sold their papers to Stringer, for a certain date, which was that of the big barbecue, but Stringer didn't know It. Fortunately, Tom was as anxious to get rid of Sam and George as they were to get rid of him. The long-expected day was only twenty-four hour away, and Sam and George hired a mule and wagon, and filled the latter with a temporary counter, shelving for goods, and box after box of candy, cakes, cigars, tobacco, snuff and prize candy packages tubs, buckets, etc. They decided to start about 11:00 P.M. as they had sixteen miles to drive, in order to reach their destination. Just as they were ready, Tom Stringer appeared but all he had time to do was just to recognize Sam and George and wonder what was up. While he was doing this, Sam and George were nearing Drakes Creek. On they drove at a good, steady clip. They were getting sleepy, but it was impossible to think of sleep, as they were passing through some pretentious young "Canyons" for this section of the country. It was along about the 3 A.M. leg of the journey as they were descending into one of the largest of the “Canyons” in route with the stillness of death around except for the wheels grinding in bed of gravel and absolute darkness all over when suddenly a voice out of the great deep canyon called out; “Hoo! Hoo! are ye! Hoo! Hoo! Hoo! are ye!" “W-h-o-a” came from the strained voice of Sam who held the reins. Again, the voice, “Hoo! Hoo! Hoo! are ye! Hoo! Hoo! Hoo! are ye!" “What's that, mister?" said Sam. "Hoo! Hoo! Hoo are ye!". "It’s me Sammy Whiteside’s. I’m Mrs. Whiteside’s little boy and this is Georgie Dashwood, Mrs. Dashwood’s' little boy with me. Why?” “Hoo! Hoo! Hoo! are ye!" quoth the voice again. This was too much for Dashwood, who had only been in this country from England, two or more years and the experience was to him anything but English and turning to Sam said “Hi, say Sammie, if I only ‘ad me bearins, I’d 'oof it back to that blarsted village we left." But Sammie failed to reply. He had looked aloft in the "Canyon" and there perched on a dead limb of a big sycamore tree sat a monster with eyes like two balls of fire and as they rolled from side to side, again a voice called out, "Hoo! Hoo! Hoo! are ye!”. It was a picture Sam had no idea of allowing to escape him and he held on to it until the sun came up and scared the old hoot owl off his perch but too late to make the picnic, and they turned around and drove back to Franklin sadder but wiser. Tom Stringer would tell this on these boys and nearly spit his sides with laughter and the boys never denied the story.
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Notes: The Fisher Home was located on the lot currently occupied by Gallery on The Square, formerly Shugart and Willis Drug Store.
Clement and Nancy Fisher. They were born about 1800 and were originally from Virginia by way of Springfield, Tennessee and arrived in Franklin before 1830. Mrs. Fisher was the daughter of Dr. John Walton of Springfield, TN. Clement and Nancy Fisher were the parents of two daughters, Mary Ann Fisher McDonald (1817-1912) and Amanda Fisher Dameron (1825-1899). Nancy Fisher died January 26, 1876 in Franklin.
In October of 1876, Clement Fisher married Fannie Wilkinson who was only 40 years old. Clement Fisher died in Franklin in 1899. The location of his grave is unknown also.
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This obituary in the April 12, 1884 edition of the Courier Journal described Clem Fisher as Franklin's first merchant.
Mr. Clem Fisher, aged 93 years, is dead. He was the first man to sell goods at this place. He acquired a handsome property and lived a straight business life. His death scene fills the city with a combination of feculent ideas. He was a Spiritualist and Rev. J. H. Dashwood witnessed ghosts holding a high carnival around the dying man. He states that from the many strange sights he saw Green Lawn Cemetery must have been tenantless. He states that the night was hideous by the sheeted dead squeaking and gibbering around the house.
Chapter Five
Landmarks in the 1870's
I fear few will be able to recall the first horse lathe mill possessed by the town of Franklin for the turning of wood into attractive designs for bed posts, chairs, and tables. It was owned and operated by one Ben Davidson, an eccentric old bachelor, and quite a character. His shop was located on the corner of the alley in the rear of the old Copeland store, now occupied by Norwood and Company, just west of Water street. His display room for furniture occupied the ground floor and his workshop and living room were on the second floor reached by an outside stairway. In the rear of both was located the lathe mill operated by horsepower and it served as a curiosity for this part of the state and a tribute to Davidson’s genius for it was the pioneer of that character of machine work in all this section or the country. Davidson was peculiar in many ways, rather of the hermit order, having withdrawn from all association with the outside world yet he was prosperous. He was especially kind and good to children of whom he was quite fond and it was in this role that the writer, a mere child at that time learned to admire him and to steal away from home, making a rush to Davidson's shop especially about meal time for he ate often, and always invited his guest to join him and his guests were delighted with invitation and invariably accepted the proffered hospitality. It was a well-known fact in the minds of many children that Davidson had the best light-bread and smeared it with a thicker coat of butter than anybody in town. This with a saucer of sorghum, which he never was without, constituted his main bill of fare for each and every meal and while it may have grown a little tiresome to Davidson, he was always a novelty and a relish to the kid element of the town. How often I was scolded by my mother for infringing upon Davidson’s hospitality but to deny myself that buttered bread and sorghum, even though I had the same or better at home, was worse to me than being put to bed in the middle of the day for disobedience. May the characteristics for which he was admired and loved by the innocent and unsuspecting be an incentive to the great Recording Angel to write much good of this friend of the youth.
If I were to ask the question, how many can recall dear, good old "Aunt Jennie Shultz", she of the ginger cake and sweet cider fame. I know now just what the answer would be many, very many. For just as surely as the sun rose on the first Monday in August of each year, for at that time this was universal election day in this State, just as surely would you find "Aunt Jennie" in the court yard square, a table covered with a nice, clean table cloth and several stacks of big, brown, ginger cakes, at one end and sweet cider at the other end. There she stood in a freshly laundered calico dress, white apron, and a smile that never came off. I really feel a desire at this moment for one of those ginger cakes. Many of the boys and girls of that day saved their small change for "Aunt Jennie” coming and I might say that she received as hearty a welcome from the adults as from the youth of the town. She lived somewhere beyond Drake's Creek, near the Allen County line and when she passed to her reward, she left a void that time could not fill.
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You have not forgotten old landmarks of former years, we feel sure. Do you remember the old Hope home? A two-story frame dwelling on the southwest corner of College and Depot Street, and adjacent to this was the Hope Tin Shop. Next to this was a big, long, frame store building occupied just before its destruction by fire by Henry and Brownlow Atkinson as a tin shop. Who occupied it previous to that I do not recall? The building next to this, also of prepossessing appearance, was occupied by John B. Hutchings, for many years a leading dry goods merchant of the town. Jim Dishman and Ollie Bland were clerks in this store. The next building was a small residence occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Volney Boisseau, then came the Boisseau Hotel and these buildings, with those now standing, with the exception of the new and very handsome building of Harris and Crowdus, constituted what was known as the west side of the public square. At that time there was as much business transacted on one side of the square as any other there apparently being no partiality shown by the purchasing public.
Just across the street, on the opposite corner from the Hope home on the site now occupied by College Street Presbyterian Church stood the Harwell Home, a pretentious and much-admired residence and one of the show places in the early days of the town. Directly opposite on the northwest corner of the square on the site now occupied by the Simpson County Hardware Company was the store and residence combined of William I. Hilton who secured in later years through acts of his own, an almost national reputation. It is not the purpose of the writer to rehearse the misfortunes of the Hilton family for approximately all of my readers have either heard or read of them as so much has been said and written, good, bad and indifferent. Alas not one syllable has been spoken, not one drop of ink used, in the cause or defense of the one who above all others shared his fortunes, his misfortunes and suffered from his acts, whatever they may have been and blessed his home with off-spring. It matters not what sphere in life she attained, and it does not detract one iota from what she and hers might have been had the treatment she deserved been accorded to her. Let tribute be paid to whom tribute is due. Like a state desecrated and bereft of its allurements, she stands alone in the world today wholly without affection, and as the morbidly curious pass her by, they sneer at her at her misfortunes and decry her for being just what they have forced her to be, through their unfeeling, uncharitable, and I may say unchristian like deportment. Had she been given that devotion, that consideration, she, no doubt deserved, how different might her sad past have been. Today she sits a recluse, gazing fixedly into the realms and waiting patiently for that summons, to the presence of Him who knows no distinction. May the great Recording Angel look down with compassion and pity upon this poor soul, who has been burdened with the fact, not denied by her, that she was his wife, she was the mother of his offspring, nothing more, nothing less.
At the time of which we write, only a small, modest, one and a half story building represented the holdings of William Hilton. We may call it a store, in reality, it might better be termed a Curiosity Shop. It has been said anything from a tallow candle to a rosewood coffin could be bought in this store. We can recall when it was a mecca for all the young ladies and often busy scenes, especially when "Calico hops" or "Masked Calico balls" were to be given, and an there were always two or three of these in the course or a year. It was then that it seemed, the entire populace turned out to see the "Calico prints", worn by both girls and boys, that had been dug out of Hilton’s "Curiosity Shop” and they were marvels. Indeed. I say dug out and use it advisedly as it was a well-known fact that Hilton kept nothing in order, and it required considerable patience to find what was wanted. When asked for any particular thing, Hilton would reply that "he was sorry, but he did not have it." He had an idea that a great many visited his store through mere curiosity. With the exercise of a little patience and a little personal investigation, it would be found that Hilton did have what was wanted.
Just north on College Street, beyond the Alexander home, across from the county jail, in a modest and unpretentious, one-story frame dwelling with a frontage of eight or ten feet as a yard, and running back some fifty or more feet, lived a good of Christian man and his family consisting of his wife, two daughters and a son. The father, as provider for the family, had always been able to keep the wolf from the door, but illness of long duration had about used up his savings and just at the time when the family could ill afford his loss, the Death Angel called one cold winter night and took this husband and father away. The family awakened to the realization that only a few dollars separated them from dire poverty. The mother gathered her little family about her and in broken sobs, unfolded her sad story, with reference to their condition of absolute want. The two daughters were quite small, much younger than the brother, but they realized something must be done and done quickly. The dear good boy was just old enough to understand their condition. He had been delicate much of his life but now placing one of his frail arms about his mother’s neck, he brushed away her tears assuring her that all would yet be well, asking her not to look at their condition in such a gloomy way for said he, "We will drive the wolf from the door. I will go at once and if possible secure a position of some sort and then I will buy you a sewing machine out of my small wages. I will make such payments as I can until it’s paid for and my sisters can go among our friends and solicit sewing for you and in this way, we will make ends meet and with Gods help, we will not starve. Suiting his actions to his words, he kissed his mother and sisters and passed out into this cold, and as many may think, into this heartless, unfeeling world. He went directly to a hardware store located on a certain corner of our public square. At that time firm was doing a heavy business. At the proper time and with that deference this boy was known to show all his elders, he approached the proprietor and asked for a private interview which was readily granted. They walked to the rear of the long storeroom and seated themselves. The little boy began to unfold his story of bereavement and poverty and in the midst of it was almost overcome with grief, but manfully fought for self-control which he gained, with the courage to ask for a position with this good man. He had no sooner finished his earnest plea than he was engaged, and his salary named, and he was told to report next morning for duty. Both the good man and the boy restrained their tears with difficulty, while the boy thanked him for his kindness and then bounded out of the door, bound for home. Almost breathless when he entered the little home, his face aglow with joy and gratitude, he told his mother his good fortune. From that moment satisfactory conditions began to manifest themselves with that little family. Each saved his mite, accordingly and gradually ease, comfort and a little pleasure began to come their way, until finally, they were in pleasant circumstances. This had only been accomplished through privation, self-denial, and continual sacrifice that often beggar description. With a determination to succeed to fill every promise to lean upon our good Master in the hour of need and with a resolution to do unto others as he would he done by and with a desire to fulfill every know obligation between man and man, this poor dependent boy of whom we write is an example that should be held up to the youth of our dear town. The penniless boy is today a retired citizen of Franklin, being one of the wealthiest and largest real estate owners in the town and county. However, the one great characteristic of this man is his steadfast friendship for those who helped him, who advised him, who paid deference to his mother and sisters.
The sincere pleasure it affords the writer to pay tribute where tribute is due and at the same time, give to the youth of our beloved town an example, all true in its realism prompts me to unfold in a way, the life story of an appreciated friend, already hidden too long, and urge every boy in Franklin to read this and take it as a guide and emulate it so that he may someday share the ease of conscience and attain the wealth and business and social position that this dear good man has attained. In later years he wooed and won the hand and heart of one of Simpson County's sweetest and best girls. Their union was blessed with children of whom any parent might be proud and today there is not to be found a happier or more contented family. The husband and wife have reached the crest of the hill of "Father Time" and hand in hand, they are beginning the descent to a rest that awaits them in a world far better this, God bless them. Do you know of whom I write? I'll venture a guess that you do for he is my friend, your friend and everybody's friend. Who is he?
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Notes: The Ben Davidson store was located to the west of the current Franklin Police Department. The Hope home was located at the current site of the First United Methodist Church Christian Life Center.
Chapter Six
East Side of the Square
Come with me and let us take a mental stroll among the many old landmarks of our dear town. It will do your heart good.
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Do you remember the building of the first big stores on the east side square? One of them is now occupied by a carriage and harness shop and the other by Robinson's drug store. The corner was occupied by the firm of Harris and Finn, Capt. Joe B. Harris and Capt. R. P Finn. They operated a big hardware store that had an extensive patronage in this and all adjoining counties. Often as many as ten or fifteen wagons could be seen in front of this store loading goods of various kinds. The owners or drivers would come here and camp out overnight, get their supplies and make an early start for home. The firm was quite prosperous and popular, as one member was an officer in the Northern army and the other an officer in the Southern army. The latter store, or the one now known as a drug store, was built by Thos. Sohan and Thos. Hackett and was operated as a general store under the name of Sohan and Hackett doing a flourishing business. Eventually, Mr. Sohan passed to his reward and Mr. Hackett moved to Louisville, becoming one of its successful businessmen but misfortune overtook him, and he lost all he had. When the above stores were being built, the writer of this article was a hustling kid. The excavations for the buildings began in early June and the writer drove a cart, hauling dirt from the large cellars that extend under both of these buildings for which he received twenty-five cents a day. This was better than being idle.
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At the time of which I write there were no buildings between the Sohan and Hackett store and the corner. A high fence enclosed a big garden and berry patch but right on the corner, on the ground now occupied the McElwain-Meguiar Bank and Trust Company was the old Billie Roberts home, a two-story frame building. "Uncle Billie" was a blacksmith and wagon repairer his home was located just where the Adsit home now stands. In a short time, the Roberts home gave way to a long frame building occupied by Liebert as a dry goods and clothing store. Then the onward march of Franklin moved this latter building to about the center of the space later occupied by Wade's Hall. The building at present, occupied by the above-named bank and trust company, was built by W. G. Wade, and occupied by Lieber and Gross. This latter firm had moved with and still occupied the old frame store building until the brick structure on the corner was ready for occupancy. It was not long before the old frame building had to move again to give way to Wade’s Hall with the hall above and two large stores on the first floor of this building. The old frame store finally found a resting place on Depot Street in the rear of the bank and trust company building across the alley. I believe it is now occupied by W. C. Bogle as a grocery.
The firm of Lieber and Gross was very prosperous and in short time and Isadore Gross was sole proprietor after Mr. Leiber retired and moved to Louisville. There never was a more popular merchant in Franklin than Isadore Gross and he had the confidence, respect, and best wishes of everybody. Harvy Wade, Ike Hatfield, Berry Love and Albert Gross were clerks in the store. In a spirit of fun, Ike Hatfield announced himself a candidate for county coroner. His platform was quick, equal and just treatment, a celluloid collar and white necktie for all stiffs found in the county during his administration. His speeches were so full of good genuine wit, that the public elected him by a large majority over several opponents.
In this connection, I have recently learned that Wade’s Hall, the only adequate place in town for dances, performance or amusements of any kind, is no more. I learn that one of the owners of the double stores beneath the hall has decided to run a partition through the hall and use his portion for storage. Verily an old and cherished landmark with many happy connections has been taken from the town. While we fail to see any opera house being opened to take its place at present, we will expect to see one shortly.
No one can or will ever forget the John H. Smith drug store and the John Bottomley saddlery and harness shop, on the East side of the public square occupying the space of the present Keystone Hotel. It has been said of Mr. Smith that he could go into his store at any hour of the night, without a light and find just what was wanted by a customer. He was regarded as one of the most painstaking and trustworthy pharmacists in the state. He lived the life of a pious, good, Christian gentleman and when called to his reward, left as many devoted friends as any man who ever moved in our midst.
One of the pleasant features connected with our reminiscences, relative to Mr. Bottomley, is the fact that he is still with us, hale and hearty. How often the writer has been shown kindnesses by this good man. As a small boy in quest of sufficient leather to make a whip or string with which to spin a top, I always went to Mr. Bottomley, who was considerate of all children.
This reminds me, do you remember the old consolidated Sunday School held in the Baptist Church, by all denomination in the early days of the town? If you do then you can't forget the fact that for years Mr. Bottomley was the Superintendent, Tobe Proctor was Assistant Superintendent, Alfred Harwell was librarian, and one of Franklin's loveliest young ladies, Mrs. W. A. Hinton, (nee Bettie Copeland), was the organist. Will I ever forget the sweet and interested smile of our dear Superintendent when the children assembled for Sunday School exercises. He would greet each one with a pleasant word of salutation and when all were seated, he would invariably have some nice little word picture to present to us that would make our little hearts leap with joy. Often, he would say, "Now children, I want to tell you how nice you look this bright Sunday morning. I know all of you have well prepared lessons for your teachers. By the way, did any of you notice on your way to Sunday School how happy the little birds were as they flew from tree to tree and in their singing and how they seemed to give praise to our good Master for His blessings, especially for this beautiful, bright day? If you saw all this, good and well, but whether you did or not, I want all of you to see how nicely you can sing these songs of praise and thanksgiving. Attention: Let everybody turn to page so and so". Then he would take from his vest pocket, his tuning fork and strike it on his song book, to get the right pitch or key for the song. Oh! What glorious days those were. Could they but be enjoyed once more.
On the corner, now occupied by the Walker building, was the William H. McGoodwin handsome brick building for it was considered in the early days of the town, and, the fact that it had been erected by Mr. McGoodwin, at that time the wealthiest man in the county, possibly in the state, gave the building prestige that would not have had otherwise. In consequence, sight seers from this and adjoining counties feasted their eyes and satisfied their curiosity by a visit to the well supplied dry goods store operated by Mr. McGoodwin with his son, James L. McGoodwin as chief in charge and Virgil, his youngest as assistant. They very successful and continued in business until the health of Mr. Jas. L. McGoodwin became impaired through too close confinement. When the stock was disposed of, Uncle Billie, as he was affectionately known, retired from active life. He and his dear, good wife then rested from their labors enjoying the love, respect and confidence of all who knew them. No man born and reared in this or any other county of our state had more friends and enjoyed their esteem and confidence as did kind, good-hearted Jas. L. McGoodwin, who after retiring from the dry goods business, regained his health and in a short time, organized the banking house known as The First National Bank afterwards merged into the private banking institution of Jas. L. McGoodwin & Company. It was the pioneer of banking business in this town being the first to open for the transaction of this character of business. Its rating was so pronounced that banks all over the state and adjoining states became connected with it and success was achieved from the opening. No deserving young man ever went to Mr. McGoodwin for financial aid and failed to secure it. He always found a way to do what was wanted, if the applicant measured up to his information and expectation but if his trust was ever misplaced, he was terribly grieved, and in closing up the transaction between the bank and the unfortunate, would invariably tender good, fatherly advice. He was a true, noble, high minded man and there were few men of more real value to a town and county than was honest James L. McGoodwin. Peace to his dear, good soul.
It would indeed be a reflection upon those still living and of many descendants, were I to ask if you remembered the glorious days of Franklin’s Famous Brass Band. The members, as we now recall them, were Geo. Whltesides, Samuel Hope, "Shad" Booker, Jimmie Hope, Pete Hope, John Copeland, Davis Caldwell, Thos. Haile, Babe 'Copeland’, Thos. Stringer, Charlie Mayes and others, whose names escape me. Prof. Johnson taught the band and they were employed each year by five or six county fair associations and invariably, engaged by both Masons and Odd Fellows all over the state for funerals, etc. They owned their band wagon, and it was handsome. This organization was quite was an advertisement for Franklin, for it was said to be superior to any similar organization in the state, not excepting the bands of Louisville and Nashville. Later. another band was organized of which we will write, at another time.
Speaking of music reminds me of that season of the year when circuses put in their appearances but war conditions had put a stop to all circuses and now for the first time in years, the town as plastered with show bills advertising the coming of some big wagon train circus. The fever was high with old and young for a circus, everybody was on the tiptoe of expectancy. The night prior to the arrival of this much heralded circus, wagon loads of people adjoining counties, especially from the hill section east of us, arrived and camped out for the night. The eventful day dawned, and an immense crowd was on hand with the most grotesque costumes Imaginable, will I ever forget them. There were men present who had evidently sworn not to cut their hair for an indefinite number of years, judging from its length. There were as many odd and amusing sights on the outside of the tent as inside the circus proper. A great day for young and old.
After the circus had passed to another town, the younger element having acquired the fever, formed a circus company, with Gus Montague as General Manager and owner of the ground; John Milliken, ring master; Harry Knapp, bear-back , rider And somersault performer;: Will Murphy and Tom Woodrow, acrobatic and horizontal bar performers; Luther Travis and Marshall Wantland, high Jumpers and somersault performers; with Luther Jenkins as clown. Numerous others were connected with it as door keepers, ticket sellers, etc. The performances were held at the Montague stable lot in the rear of the residence on South College Street. I believe a street now occupies the site of the old stable lot. The price of admission was five pins or one marble. Performances were given each Saturday afternoon at 2:00 P.M. sharp, rehearsals were held dally.
It was the custom of quite a number of the citizens living in the country, to ride horse back to town and hitch their horses in the Montague lot. Among those hitched daily, was a big, fat, bay mare with a broad back and a short gallop that made her ideal for a circus animal. She was Harry Knapp's delight and as "Uncle Ell" came to town quite often, Harry had plenty of time to practice. At one of the big Saturday afternoon performances, when there was a capacity house. and enjoyment was at its height, especially the bare back riding of Prof. Knapp, who was being assisted by John Milliken, the ring master, who in turn was making Uncle Eli's bay mare go some, there appeared at the entrance gate a stocky built broad shouldered man who peered through the gate with considerable curiosity and concern. Someone made the discovery, just as the bare back ride was in full swing, and yelled "There’s Mr. Blewitt”, and sure enough it was Uncle Eli who upon being discovered, yelled at the top of his voice “Get down often that mar you little red headed devil, I’ll cut your ears off”. It did not take a second warning for as Uncle Eli started for the bunch, hardly able to keep his face straight, Prof. Knapp left the circus on his mount fight into the corn field with John Milliken hard by. In fact, the entire company, performers, manager and audience rushed pell mell into the cornfields and Fishers Meadow, nor did the performers wait to change their clothes or even get them. It when the members of the company returned for their clothes, with explanations to the home folks as to just why they were not in time to cut the wood for Sunday? Forget it. Never in this world.
Chapter Seven
Dashwood, Tannahill, and Woodrow
On the north side of the public square about where Anthony's store is now located was another old landmark of the town, that finally gave way to progress. This was the Dr. Johnston home, a two-story brick, the front being built on the pavement, and on the first floor as I remember was the doctor's office in which were many shelves containing bottles of medicine. The doctor, who was an invalid for years, eventually died leaving two relatives to mourn his loss. Whether they were his wife and daughter or his sisters, I do not recall. I do remember however, that there some mystery connected with the family, at least I was under this impression, partly from observation and partly from the conversation of my elders. It was a well-known fact, among the young boys of the town that when a ball was lost in the yard of this family, it remained lost, for no boy, however fearless at other times would venture into this yard for anything he might desire.
To the west of the Johnson home, situated about where the "Favorite” office now stands, was the John Woodrow Furniture and Undertaker establishment. Mr. Woodrow was of English birth, coming to this country when quite a young man. He made Franklin his home and married Miss Mahin of this place, daughter of Thomas Mahin and sister of Mrs. Dr. J. H, Herrington and Mrs. Harvey Wade. He was quite prosperous and at his death left his entire estate to his children Mrs. Robert Sympson, nee Maggie Woodrow, and Thomas Woodrow, the latter familiarly known as Governor Woodrow. Some years after the arrival of Mr. Woodrow, his brother-in-law, J. H. Dashwood and wife came over to this country also settling here. Rev. Dashwood formed a partnership with Mr. Woodrow under the firm name of Woodrow and Dashwood. This firm was afterward dissolved, Mr. Dashwood establishing an independent business. At this period found himself without the necessary assistance in his cabinet shop and one day there walked into his shop a tall, athletic looking fellow, who hailed from Allen County. He introduced himself as "Bud" House and made application for a position. He was accepted and began work at once. I want to say that it gives much pleasure to bear witness to the valiant efforts of Mr. House which were crowned with success. He is respected and loved by all who know him and is the father of the well-known House Brothers of Franklin. East of this, on the corner where now stands a brick building occupied by Gillespie & Booker, there stood a two story there stood a two story frame residence which was rather prepossessing in appearance In the yard grew large cedar trees and shrubbery and the garden extended to the Hiram Mitchell home, then property of Mr. James Ryan. It was always a hallowed and attractive place to the writer, for in this residence the father and mother of the writer were married. Here I first met Harry Knapp. whose father lived in this house until he moved his family to the home on Finn and Railroad streets. Here too, I learned to love Harry's good, dear mother, who was truly ideal in her attitude toward her family. There was nothing too difficult, no sacrifice too great, for the pleasure of her little children and their companions. The memory of this beautiful character has never been effaced. In that section of the town to where the Knapp family moved, there was, at that time, quite a boom in the building line. Mr. Seward, a merchant, built quite a nice home just east of the Knapp home. Allie Salmons built the residence now owned and occupied by Jas. N. LaRue. Here many enjoyable entertainments were given both, Mr. and Mrs. Salmons being special favorites with the young people. The brick residence, just south of the Salmons home, was built by Capt. Joe Harris.
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Do you remember the Tannahill residence, a two-story frame structure located just across the alley, on the corner, in the rear of the present Franklin Hardware Store, on South Main Street? Dr. Tannahill had quite a large practice and his office occupied the corner at South Main and Madison Streets. In front of the residence the boys of the town had a big marble yard where fortunes were made and lost, as far as marbles were concerned. The chatter of these many boys reminded one of a black bird's roost.
One dark night, someone, we do pretend to know who, took from Dr. Tannahill's stable his yellow buggy and the next, morning it was discovered on the roof of the two-story brick McGoodwin building, then located where the Walker building now stands. How it was lifted there and set up ready for use has never been understood. and never divulged, for while it took six or eight men, with ropes and pulleys, five or six hours to take it down, evidently, it took only a a short while for the fun makers to place It. There was certainly a likely set of boys in this town at that time.
Another dark night, after the town was asleep, a few of the boys, who bad congregated in one of the stores, boys who were always ready for fun of an inoffensive nature, devised a “dummy bull”. It was said to been accomplished this way. An old chair was secured, the seat cut out and across this opening was stretched a leather covering through which was drawn a leather string with a knot in it to prevent its being pulled through. This string was waxed with rosin and the party who operated the "dummy", rubbed rosin on his hands. By pulling gently downward on the string a "roar" was emitted that would have put to blush a Jersey, Holstein or common ordinary bull. It was said to be simply great as an imitation. The instrument in good hands, the party repaired to the outskirts of the town and with the “dummy” doing Its full duty, now and then being assisted by members of the party, in opening gates to allow cows to join the procession, they circled the town and returned with what was said to have been a good sized Texas cattle ranch, as to numbers. The procession headed toward the courthouse square, which was enclosed by a wooden fence. the gates were thrown open with the “dummy" performing in the middle of' the square, the cows were soon Induced to enter the enclosure. This being accomplished, gates were tied and nailed. The nights work over, the innocents departed to their respective homes, the “dummy” being deposited in a nearby store.
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The following morning, pandemonium reigned throughout Franklin. Hardly anybody had a cow and it looked as if everyone in the town started at the same time to hunt missing cows. No one gave the courtyard consideration and it was not until Mr. Si Wantland, then county jailer and custodian of the Court House and Its yard appeared upon the scene that the deed was discovered. Upon reaching Hilton's corner, Mr. Wantland is said to have remarked, "My God, whar did they git 'em, looks like all the cows in Texas has been turned in here". All during the day parties came to lay claim to cows and to thank Mr. Wantland for his hospitality, urging at the same time that all gates to the courtyard be nailed up and steps made instead. Another illustration of the ingenuity of youth, for pleasure "of an innocent nature".
Chapter Eight Whitesides and Larue
“All the way from Culpepper Court House, Virginia, to Franklin, Ky be grabbs", was an expression often used by old Uncle Otto Grubbs, a most familiar figure in the early history of our town. His home, iust across from the old L. & N Depot, is still extant, one the true landmarks of Franklin. His wagon repair shop stood where Traughber’s tin shop now stands on the corner of Depot and Water streets. He was fond of children and they gathered in considerable numbers at his shop daily where they were allowed the use of any tools desired for the repair of their playthings. Uncle Otto, if not engaged, always lending a helping hand. Peace to his dear, good soul.
To the south of Uncle Otto’s shop on Water street, between Depot and Cedar streets, there existed for many years, one of the most prosperous woolen mills in the south. In its early history it was known as Peeden's Woolen Mills, owned and operated by Uncle Jesse Peeden and his son Cornelius Peeden, two respected businessmen, possessing the confidence of all who knew them. Later, John Walsh became a member of the firm. I want to say that Ireland never sent to this country a truer, more devoted representative than John Walsh. Later, the Peedens retired from business and Mr. Tatham and his three sons, Harry, Will, and John, now prosperous owners of a big plant at Springfield, Tenn., became associated with the mills. The business increased so rapidly that they were forced to secure larger and more commodious quarters and in consequence, the buildings at Main and College streets, known as the Franklin Woolen Mills, were erected. For some cause not known to the writer, the Tathams withdrew from this business and moved to Springfield. It was a sad day in the history of Franklin's manufacturing interests when they did so. The blankets from the mills at Franklin achieved a national reputation and the entire output for the year was sold, each season, before a wheel was turned. Fire finally destroyed these mills and from that time apparently, the spirit was never the same in regard to manufacturing interest. May I ask what has be of the spirit of progress that formerly dominated our town? Have we less capital, less ambition now than in the past? Surely this can not be the case. There is something wrong, something lacking. What is it?
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Where the Knapp Dry Goods store now stands or on a part of this ground was a two-story brick building, but who owned it I do not know. It was for years used as a confectionery by a German named Fox and was known as "Fox's Bakery and Confectionary." He did all his own baking and making of candy and his place was a perfect magnet for all the boys of the town. The cause of many a first-class stomachache could be traced to the goodies turned out by Mr. Fox. This winner of boy’s hearts afterward moved to Nashville where he died. His remains were brought back to Franklin and interred in Green Lawn Cemetery. The store houses from Knapp's store to the Lovell Hardware Store, on the south west comer of the square, were owned by a Mr. Lawler and appear now as when they did when built. One peculiar feature is that while each store has a roomy second floor, no entrance to such was ever provided and they were more of a burden than otherwise. Mr. Lawler owned the brick residence on West Cedar Street now owned by. Dr. Williams. In the early history of the town it was considered one of the show places. The Lawlers were well-to-do and respected and admired by all who knew them. In later years they moved to the country and if I mistake not, there are quite a number of their descendants still with us. The Lovell Hardware Store on the corner was in the early days, occupied by a Jewish man, a Mr. Brown, and he and his son had a clothing store on the first floor and used the second floor as an apartment. There were many Jews, all good, respected citizens, doing business here at this time, and each of them prospered. Later, Bob Holland occupied this same building, having turned it into confectionary. It was torn down later to make way for a more modern building. Down on the corner of South Main and Madison Street, just below the old Mahin home, there was a big, two story frame building, known as the Holland House, having two large storerooms on the Main Street side. The one directly on the corner was occupied for years by George Kohlhepp, one of Franklin's pioneer German citizens. It was here that Uncle George laid the foundation for the wealth that be left his children. It was generally known that be made good money during the war at this old stand. He prospered, at any rate, and finally bought the property on the east side of the square, now known as the Dr. J. H. Herrington property. Here Uncle George built a double, one story, frame storehouse. One portion was used at a grocery and the other as a saloon. There was no prohibition in those days. Mr.
Kohlhepp was good humored and respected by all who knew him.
Do you recall the old Tavern, located between Copelands, now known as Norwood's Store, and the Mahin home on South Main Street? When I first had knowledge of it, Thos. Whitesides was the proprietor. Then John B. Mayes took charge of it. Many enjoyable entertainments were given in the large dining room and spacious parlors, which were at all times, open to the public for pleasure, the handsome and accomplished children of Mr. and Mrs. Mayes always lending their presence on such occasions. Mr. Mayes also operated a carriage and buggy repair shop, about where the livery stable of Bumpus and McClanahan now stands.
Few of my readers who were children at the time of which I am I going to write, will fail to appreciate the terror inspiring influence of threat from our elders, to deliver us into the hands of Nancy Jones, known to children as the witch. This threat was often used as a means of securing obedience when all else failed. The home, or I might well say shack of Nancy Jones was located on South Main Street, just beyond the Christian Church. Her small piece of property had the shape of a triangle, with the sides drawn in and the base quite acute.
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The excuse for a house rested near the apex of the triangle and there was a long pond of water the full length of the property adjacent to the old turnpike that had the appearance of fencing the old lady in and tales of destruction to disobedient children and the intimation as to their last resting place being at the bottom of that pond when one in the hands the witch as she was termed, surely carried conviction to the unsuspecting minds of many children and brought about the proper influence upon the child. Who this old woman was or where she came from, no one seemed to know? No one could tell where or how she secured her living or who were her associates. Never, to the writer's knowledge, was any disclosure made by her as to her past. She was, perhaps, unaware of the unfortunate position she held in the minds of the youth of the town.
Do you remember the old Whiteside's home, a handsome two-story frame building that stood just south of the Clem Montague property on South College Street? For a time, it was owned and occupied by Mr. Reese Eubank. This home was the scene of many enjoyable social events to which additional charm was given by the presence of the attractive and accomplished daughters, Misses Fannie, Sara and Jenetta Whiteside, who were perhaps better known as Mrs. Allie Salmons, Mrs. Sara Gillespie and Mrs. W. R. Wood. Mrs. Wood just recently married Shelby Harwell. They were sweethearts in childhood days and the writer carried many cards to Miss Jenetta, from Shelby. While waiting for answers, the carrier was always remembered with a delicious apple from the fine orchard that covered the section south of the home to the residence now owned by Mrs. Dr. J. H. Milliken thence to the Gaines home. Many handsome homes now stand on the site of the old orchard. There were four sons in this family, Messrs. Joseph, Mark, George and Sam, all loved and respected citizens.
Can you recall the little frame, jewelry repair shop of Mr. Franklin, located on the corner of College and Madison Streets the present Sanatorium property? The home of the Franklins was a part of the Sanatorium building. After Mr. Franklin's death, the family moved, I think, to Logan County, this state. Just across the street on the south west corner from the Franklin Jewelry Shop, was located the small frame office building of Dr. J. J. LaRue, an eminent and successful practitioner, at that time. He was the beloved father of Messrs. James N. and John J. LaRue and Mrs. E. D. Williams, nee Miss Lillie LaRue. No citizen of this or any other town, stood higher than did this good man, the old homestead, quite a prepossessing structure, was just the south of the office and within the same enclosure. If I had as many dollars as buckets of water that I've drawn from the good well on those premises, I'd retire from business for life. North of the La Rue home, in the basement of the old Baptist church, was the public school of the town and we got our drinking water from this well. While it is often the case that the proximity of a large school is considered a nuisance to neighbors and friction of a serious nature, is usually the result, I must admit that so far as my memory serves me; no such conditions ever existed between the students of this school and the neighbors.
There is nothing that appeals so strongly to the tender emotions of adults as incidents connected with childhood days, with school life, with that time when freedom from care enables us to feel the real joy of living, which is, by degrees, swept from our grasp by the mighty tide of onrushing events, experiences, battles for mere existence, leaving in its wake broken spirits, crushed hearts and a whole different outlook upon life itself. No longer able to shake off the manacles of responsibility, the call of duty, no longer shielded from physical and moral conflict with the world, we look back upon the path we have trodden and recall, with tears, for which we make no apology, our childhood’s happy hours, the happiest of all.
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Chapter Nine
Boisseau Hotel
On the ground where the new Methodist Church now stands, the old Boisseau Hotel was erected, quite prepossessing in appearance, being three stories in height and having accommodations for approximately one hundred and fifty guests. When entire capacity was required, and this occurred quite often, especially during the week of our county fair. This hotel was the scene of many brilliant social events, especially was it so when "hops” were given. The beauty, grace, and chivalry of our town and adjoining towns vying with each other as to appearance and popularity. The mention of this hotel will cause many sad as well as happy reflections.
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The writer remembers best the period beginning with the management of Mr. Volney Boisseau, then Messrs. Engelman and Bryan, and lastly, Mr. James Hardy. The acme of success was reached during the management of the last-named gentlemen, Messrs. Engelman and Bryan and Hardy. The social festivities of the town were at their height, and the entertainments were given an added interest by the presence of Mr. Engelman’s two charming daughters, misses Mary Clark and Laura Engelman, and for a period only too brief, the beautiful and accomplished daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Hardy, whose sweet spirit took flight one sad day to join the host of angels. The devoted father and mother pay tribute to her memory by attention and almost daily visits to the last earthly resting place in Green Lawn Cemetery. Mr. Hardy is today the successful manager of the Keystone Hotel.
On the ground now occupied by Dr. Widener's residence on North Main Street, formerly the properly of Mrs. Ella Walker, there stood a handsome brick Methodist Church. Many years ago, Franklin was visited at night by a very violent storm and this church, which was in the path of this tornado, was razed to the ground. It remained in this condition until purchased by Mr. William Copeland, at that time one of Franklin's most prosperous, as well as most beloved citizens, Mr. Copeland erected on the foundation of the old church, a three-story frame building known as Copeland's Hotel. For a time, it prospered, but its extreme distance from the business district of the town made against it, and it was finally abandoned and later used as a residence. Capt. D.C. Walker purchased the gentle property and erected the present handsome brick residence.
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Just across from the street from the old L. & N. passenger office, now the freight and warehouse department of the company, stood the Horn House, built by Uncle Tom Horn and for many years it was run under his management. It had a good patronage on account of its proximity to the railroad station and prospered for many years, though changing management quite often after the death of Uncle Tom. Finally, it was destroyed by fire and for some unknown reason was never rebuilt.
Many will be able to recall the commodious brick residence of Mr. Geo. H. Milliken, which was destroyed some years ago by fire. The property is now owned by Wm. Beall, we believe. The handsome and accomplished daughters of Mr. and Mrs. Milliken were the hosts of many enjoyable entertainments, given in honor of young lady visitors from this and adjoining states. Mr. Milliken passed to his reward many years ago, a loved and respected citizen. He was quite conspicuous in the history making epoch of the town and county. His wife, a dear companion, a good mother and friend, survived him, and only a few years since joined her loved one.
Do you recall the old Blakey tan yard just to the west of the George H. Milliken house fronting Washington Street? The writer can remember when trains of wagons, loaded with tan bark, filled all the western end of Depot Street and all day long for many days, hands worked unloading these wagons. The plant was quite a factor in the town's prosperity and remained so until just prior to the passing of the owner Mr. George Blakey, one of the town's most prosperous citizens. The Blakey residence, presided over by cultured daughters, was located to the west of the yard and was of prepossessing appearance.
In the good old days, prior to advent of the telephone, it was the custom for the young men of the town to make engagements with the young ladies of the town by means of notes, sent by messengers. This afforded the energetic boys the opportunity to make a few dimes with which to enrich the confectioner and appease their personal desires. Alas, the telephone has eliminated all this. I shall never forget my experience in this, my first chosen profession for I was ever on the alert to earn five or ten cent pieces and many, many cards have I caried to the young ladies of the town from their admirers. It was a most peculiar fact that no matter what route I chose to the confectioners, I would invariably meet those two well-known gentlemen of leisure, Jim Crowdus and Spencer Batsell, who were always playing pranks upon the unsuspecting. They would in some way learn that I had earned a five or ten cent piece and would begin to chide me about working for money when it was actually lying around loose on the streets. In order to prove this, they would brush away the dust with their hands and by some trick not known to me, would really pick up a half dozen ten cent pieces. I would stand perfectly, amazed and wonder if I could do the same. I'll venture to say I scrapped up a good portion of the dust and dirt around the Courthouse square of Franklin but needless to say, I never found any. Finally, I got wise to their game and then these gentlemen turned their attention to the smaller boys who did their part of dust and dirt scratching and many are still Iiving to testify to this fact.
In part six of Retrospection we referred to the famous band which the town took considerable pride in calling its own and we promised to speak later of another brass band that had an enviable reputation all over the state, for it was easily the finest and best equipped organization in the state. Its members, as I now recall were the following; Sam Whiteside, Pete Hope, Bob Sympson, John Newman. James Snyder, Robert Short, Sam Hunt, John Snyder, Thos. Woodrow, "Red" John Milliken and Ben Pearson. This band was under the direction of Mr. Prof. Bailey and was engaged yearly by some half dozen county fairs and was always in demand by lodges and organizations for festival occasions. The boys owned their band wagon and their first public appearance was at our county fair, then held at the fairgrounds north of town, nearly opposite the Phillips home. This space was between the old Louisville and Nashville Pike and the Morgantown Road and was near a half mile in width. The full circle amphitheater was the only one of its kind in the state, containing nothing but cedar in its construction. The display halls were very commodious and were built in the full circle. The amphitheater in appearance was of the Grecian coliseum or Flavian Amphitheater type. In the center of the arena was a three deck, full circle band and judges stand. Large transfer the display of machinery, agricultural implements, buggies, carriages, wagons etc. were placed at convenient distances from the main amphitheater. A full circle trotting and racing track was one of the. special features, always under the successful management of Bose Eubank. An attractive woman's rest cottage was one of the numerous buildings. A row of stables and stalls ran the full length of the property, from east to west more than a mile for the use of display stock, while the entire western end of the property was at the disposal of visitors for the parking of conveniences for which no charge was made. There wasn't a man, woman or child in the town or county that was not proud of our fair grounds and there was an outpouring of people from this and adjoining states. Happy days! Well, I should say so. Everybody seemed prosperous or at least in comfortable circumstances and when fair time arrived all seemed to vie with one another in being happy and adding as much as possible to the happiness of others. Never will I forget the bountiful and inviting dinners to spread in the booths, underneath the amphitheater. Not a soul, white or black, was allowed to go hungry, there was always an abundance of good things to eat.
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One of the enjoyable features of the fair was the annual fair hop, given by a few members of the band and other young men of the town and county. Among the number may be mentioned Calle Harris, John J. La Rue, Vincent, Charlie and Thomas Lewis, Dr. L. J. Jones, Isadore Gross, Dr. Jim Neely, William Bryan, Robert Evans, Robert Neely, John and Jesse Harris, John Walsh, Sanford Neely, Thomas Stringer, Dr. J. H. and Charlie Milliken and many others whose names escape me. The hop was held on Friday, the fifth night., of a six-day fair at Wade's Hall. These were always gala occasions, there being present parties from Elizabethtown, Glasgow, Bowling Green, Russellville, Clarksville, Springfield, Gallatin, Nashville, Auburn, Woodburn, Scottsville and Louisville. Invitations were sent out weeks in advance of the date. An orchestra, as fine as could be found in either Louisville or Nashville, furnished the music. It Is gratifying in the extreme to know that the young men of the town still adhere to this time-honored custom. One of the pleasant features connected with our fair was Its great assistance to all branches of business, especially to our hotels, three in number with a goodly number of boarding places. Beginning with Tuesday of the fair week there was not a room to be had. Visitors slept on cots in parlors and in hallways.
Will I ever forget the experience related to me by one of the members of our band? It had reference to Prof. Bailey's famous order, as I now recall it occurred in the afternoon of the first day the band appeared, just as the members were about to alight from the wagon on their return from the fair. They were requested to remain seated for a few moments as Prof. Bailey had something to say. The Professor's baton, wrapped on the frame of a seat for attention, all eyes were turned on him and it was then that he gave his famous order, so far as the boys of the band were concerned. Upon receiving, due attention. Prof.- Bailey said, "it is my wish and order that each and every member of the band, when he reports tomorrow morning, shall be dressed in white duck trousers, black sack coat, white vest, white tie and the regulation plug hat.” There was a craning of necks and stretching of eyes that betokened anxiety among many of the members for some had white trousers, some had not, all had black sack coats, white vests and ties, but where, 0 where would they get a "plug." To purchase one was little short of extravagance, for they sold at eight dollars per and might never be worn again, but it did no good to worry, the order had been given and would have to be obeyed. It must have been awful night tor many of the boys and unquestionably the shortest night they had ever experienced. All too soon the morrow was with them and as the hour approached for the band to assemble, the boys could be seen shyly emerging from some secluded spot, attired In white duck trousers, black sack coats, white vest, white ties, and then the awful plug hat. It looked as though some of the boys had been up all night ironing out the plug for of all the shapes imaginable, these were the oddest. Tall and short crowns, broad and narrow brims, the fur on some refused to be Ironed out, while on others the fur had been coaxed with a free use of oil. It as a sight never to be forgotten.
All the members had reported with the exception of Sam Hunt, who could be seen approaching in the distance. It was quite question as to what he had on his head. Was it a short joint of stove pipe, or a. bat box cut to meet the requirements? In a few minutes, Sam was at close range and it was discovered that he had on a real, eighteen karat silk plug hat with a real shimmer on it. The crown was the tallest by six inches of the entire lot while the brim was barely one inch in width. It gave him, as you must know, a decidedly comical appearance, though some had an entire newspaper inside the plug to keep it from wobbling. In a short while all were seated in the wagon and off, they started on the morning parade. The new regalia caught the eye of the public and applause greeted the band as it moved around the square, thence north, on Main Street, to the fair grounds.
The last number had just been played when someone ventured a remark that the horses were becoming unmanageable. The words were hardly uttered when it became apparent to all that the horses were really running away, and it was every fellow for himself. The team fairly flew from where the Catholic Church now stands to the corner of Main and College Streets. Here the wagon ran upon a big bank of clay and turned over, the horses in some way freeing themselves. Those members that had not risked jumping, were found covered with straw and plenty of dust, but fortunately, not a member was injured, nor an instrument broken. Considerable excitement was occasioned by the mishap and bad a time renewing their plugs which had been mashed into most peculiar shapes with the fur turned the wrong way. There was no time to return home for different headgear, so they proceeded to the fairgrounds looking more like clowns than musicians. It is needless to ask If this experience will ever be forgotten.
On the ground where the new Methodist Church now stands, the old Boisseau Hotel was erected, quite prepossessing in appearance, being three stories in height and having accommodations for approximately one hundred and fifty guests. When entire capacity was required, and this occurred quite often, especially during the week of our county fair. This hotel was the scene of many brilliant social events, especially was it so when "hops” were given. The beauty, grace, and chivalry of our town and adjoining towns vying with each other as to appearance and popularity. The mention of this hotel will cause many sad as well as happy reflections.
The writer remembers best the period beginning with the management of Mr. Volney Boisseau, then Messrs. Engelman and Bryan, and lastly, Mr. James Hardy. The acme of success was reached during the management of the last-named gentlemen, Messrs. Engelman and Bryan and Hardy. The social festivities of the town were at their height, and the entertainments were given an added interest by the presence of Mr. Engelman’s two charming daughters, misses Mary Clark and Laura Engelman, and for a period only too brief, the beautiful and accomplished daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Hardy, whose sweet spirit took flight one sad day to join the host of angels. The devoted father and mother pay tribute to her memory by attention and almost daily visits to the last earthly resting place in Green Lawn Cemetery. Mr. Hardy is today the successful manager of the Keystone Hotel.
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On the ground now occupied by Dr. Widener's residence on North Main Street, formerly the properly of Mrs. Ella Walker, there stood a handsome brick Methodist Church. Many years ago, Franklin was visited at night by a very violent storm and this church, which was in the path of this tornado, was razed to the ground. It remained in this condition until purchased by Mr. William Copeland, at that time one of Franklin's most prosperous, as well as most beloved citizens, Mr. Copeland erected on the foundation of the old church, a three-story frame building known as Copeland's Hotel. For a time, it prospered, but its extreme distance from the business district of the town made against it, and it was finally abandoned and later used as a residence. Capt. D.C. Walker purchased the gentle property and erected the present handsome brick residence.
Just across from the street from the old L. & N. passenger office, now the freight and warehouse department of the company, stood the Horn House, built by Uncle Tom Horn and for many years it was run under his management. It had a good patronage on account of its proximity to the railroad station and prospered for many years, though changing management quite often after the death of Uncle Tom. Finally, it was destroyed by fire and for some unknown reason was never rebuilt.
Many will be able to recall the commodious brick residence of Mr. Geo. H. Milliken, which was destroyed some years ago by fire. The property is now owned by Wm. Beall, we believe. The handsome and accomplished daughters of Mr. and Mrs. Milliken were the hosts of many enjoyable entertainments, given in honor of young lady visitors from this and adjoining states. Mr. Milliken passed to his reward many years ago, a loved and respected citizen. He was quite conspicuous in the history making epoch of the town and county. His wife, a dear companion, a good mother and friend, survived him, and only a few years since joined her loved one.
Do you recall the old Blakey tan yard just to the west of the George H. Milliken house fronting Washington Street? The writer can remember when trains of wagons, loaded with tan bark, filled all the western end of Depot Street and all day long for many days, hands worked unloading these wagons. The plant was quite a factor in the town's prosperity and remained so until just prior to the passing of the owner Mr. George Blakey, one of the town's most prosperous citizens. The Blakey residence, presided over by cultured daughters, was located to the west of the yard and was of prepossessing appearance.
In the good old days, prior to advent of the telephone, it was the custom for the young men of the town to make engagements with the young ladies of the town by means of notes, sent by messengers. This afforded the energetic boys the opportunity to make a few dimes with which to enrich the confectioner and appease their personal desires. Alas, the telephone has eliminated all this. I shall never forget my experience in this, my first chosen profession for I was ever on the alert to earn five or ten cent pieces and many, many cards have I caried to the young ladies of the town from their admirers. It was a most peculiar fact that no matter what route I chose to the confectioners, I would invariably meet those two well-known gentlemen of leisure, Jim Crowdus and Spencer Batsell, who were always playing pranks upon the unsuspecting. They would in some way learn that I had earned a five or ten cent piece and would begin to chide me about working for money when it was actually lying around loose on the streets. In order to prove this, they would brush away the dust with their hands and by some trick not known to me, would really pick up a half dozen ten cent pieces. I would stand perfectly, amazed and wonder if I could do the same. I'll venture to say I scrapped up a good portion of the dust and dirt around the Courthouse square of Franklin but needless to say, I never found any. Finally, I got wise to their game and then these gentlemen turned their attention to the smaller boys who did their part of dust and dirt scratching and many are still Iiving to testify to this fact.
In part six of Retrospection we referred to the famous band which the town took considerable pride in calling its own and we promised to speak later of another brass band that had an enviable reputation all over the state, for it was easily the finest and best equipped organization in the state. Its members, as I now recall were the following; Sam Whiteside, Pete Hope, Bob Sympson, John Newman. James Snyder, Robert Short, Sam Hunt, John Snyder, Thos. Woodrow, "Red" John Milliken and Ben Pearson. This band was under the direction of Mr. Prof. Bailey and was engaged yearly by some half dozen county fairs and was always in demand by lodges and organizations for festival occasions. The boys owned their band wagon and their first public appearance was at our county fair, then held at the fairgrounds north of town, nearly opposite the Phillips home. This space was between the old Louisville and Nashville Pike and the Morgantown Road and was near a half mile in width. The full circle amphitheater was the only one of its kind in the state, containing nothing but cedar in its construction. The display halls were very commodious and were built in the full circle. The amphitheater in appearance was of the Grecian coliseum or Flavian Amphitheater type. In the center of the arena was a three deck, full circle band and judges stand. Large transfer the display of machinery, agricultural implements, buggies, carriages, wagons etc. were placed at convenient distances from the main amphitheater. A full circle trotting and racing track was one of the. special features, always under the successful management of Bose Eubank. An attractive woman's rest cottage was one of the numerous buildings. A row of stables and stalls ran the full length of the property, from east to west more than a mile for the use of display stock, while the entire western end of the property was at the disposal of visitors for the parking of conveniences for which no charge was made. There wasn't a man, woman or child in the town or county that was not proud of our fair grounds and there was an outpouring of people from this and adjoining states. Happy days! Well, I should say so. Everybody seemed prosperous or at least in comfortable circumstances and when fair time arrived all seemed to vie with one another in being happy and adding as much as possible to the happiness of others. Never will I forget the bountiful and inviting dinners to spread in the booths, underneath the amphitheater. Not a soul, white or black, was allowed to go hungry, there was always an abundance of good things to eat.
One of the enjoyable features of the fair was the annual fair hop, given by a few members of the band and other young men of the town and county. Among the number may be mentioned Calle Harris, John J. La Rue, Vincent, Charlie and Thomas Lewis, Dr. L. J. Jones, Isadore Gross, Dr. Jim Neely, William Bryan, Robert Evans, Robert Neely, John and Jesse Harris, John Walsh, Sanford Neely, Thomas Stringer, Dr. J. H. and Charlie Milliken and many others whose names escape me. The hop was held on Friday, the fifth night., of a six-day fair at Wade's Hall. These were always gala occasions, there being present parties from Elizabethtown, Glasgow, Bowling Green, Russellville, Clarksville, Springfield, Gallatin, Nashville, Auburn, Woodburn, Scottsville and Louisville. Invitations were sent out weeks in advance of the date. An orchestra, as fine as could be found in either Louisville or Nashville, furnished the music. It Is gratifying in the extreme to know that the young men of the town still adhere to this time-honored custom. One of the pleasant features connected with our fair was Its great assistance to all branches of business, especially to our hotels, three in number with a goodly number of boarding places. Beginning with Tuesday of the fair week there was not a room to be had. Visitors slept on cots in parlors and in hallways.
Will I ever forget the experience related to me by one of the members of our band? It had reference to Prof. Bailey's famous order, as I now recall it occurred in the afternoon of the first day the band appeared, just as the members were about to alight from the wagon on their return from the fair. They were requested to remain seated for a few moments as Prof. Bailey had something to say. The Professor's baton, wrapped on the frame of a seat for attention, all eyes were turned on him and it was then that he gave his famous order, so far as the boys of the band were concerned. Upon receiving, due attention. Prof.- Bailey said, "it is my wish and order that each and every member of the band, when he reports tomorrow morning, shall be dressed in white duck trousers, black sack coat, white vest, white tie and the regulation plug hat.” There was a craning of necks and stretching of eyes that betokened anxiety among many of the members for some had white trousers, some had not, all had black sack coats, white vests and ties, but where, 0 where would they get a "plug." To purchase one was little short of extravagance, for they sold at eight dollars per and might never be worn again, but it did no good to worry, the order had been given and would have to be obeyed. It must have been awful night tor many of the boys and unquestionably the shortest night they had ever experienced. All too soon the morrow was with them and as the hour approached for the band to assemble, the boys could be seen shyly emerging from some secluded spot, attired In white duck trousers, black sack coats, white vest, white ties, and then the awful plug hat. It looked as though some of the boys had been up all night ironing out the plug for of all the shapes imaginable, these were the oddest. Tall and short crowns, broad and narrow brims, the fur on some refused to be Ironed out, while on others the fur had been coaxed with a free use of oil. It as a sight never to be forgotten.
All the members had reported with the exception of Sam Hunt, who could be seen approaching in the distance. It was quite question as to what he had on his head. Was it a short joint of stove pipe, or a. bat box cut to meet the requirements? In a few minutes, Sam was at close range and it was discovered that he had on a real, eighteen karat silk plug hat with a real shimmer on it. The crown was the tallest by six inches of the entire lot while the brim was barely one inch in width. It gave him, as you must know, a decidedly comical appearance, though some had an entire newspaper inside the plug to keep it from wobbling. In a short while all were seated in the wagon and off, they started on the morning parade. The new regalia caught the eye of the public and applause greeted the band as it moved around the square, thence north, on Main Street, to the fair grounds.
The last number had just been played when someone ventured a remark that the horses were becoming unmanageable. The words were hardly uttered when it became apparent to all that the horses were really running away, and it was every fellow for himself. The team fairly flew from where the Catholic Church now stands to the corner of Main and College Streets. Here the wagon ran upon a big bank of clay and turned over, the horses in some way freeing themselves. Those members that had not risked jumping, were found covered with straw and plenty of dust, but fortunately, not a member was injured, nor an instrument broken. Considerable excitement was occasioned by the mishap and bad a time renewing their plugs which had been mashed into most peculiar shapes with the fur turned the wrong way. There was no time to return home for different headgear, so they proceeded to the fairgrounds looking more like clowns than musicians. It is needless to ask If this experience will ever be forgotten.
Chapter Ten
Lewis, Neely and Hoy
We have reached that portion of Retrospection that fills our hearts with pleasure, pride and satisfaction. We are permitted to enjoy the privilege of paying tribute to as dear, sweet, pure girls and as gentleman and amiable boys, from the foundation of our town to this good hour, as the sun has ever shone upon, not withstanding our articles are confined to the intermediary years, from 1860 to 1908. Especially do we take pleasure in referring to the young ladles, past and present, of our town assert without tear of contradiction, that no town or city in this or any other state had or has a more beautiful, cultured, refined and commanding bevy of young ladies than Franklin. Always steadfast and true in their friendship with no thought other than to be useful, God fearing Christians at all times striving to give happiness to others and in every way, wholly unselfish, they have passed and are passing along with life’s busy scenes, some to cross over the dark river and rest under the shade of the Tree of Everlasting Life, some to continue life's work, to this good hour, others to cease their labor and await the closing of a life filled with usefulness, happiness and contentment. We implicitly believe that an angel’s crown adorns the head of each one that has passed to the Great Beyond. For those still with us may we be permitted to indulge in a prayerful wish for their happiness, prosperity, and life full of Christian beauty until they too have passed to where an angel’s crown awaits them.
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May the tears produced through this reflection form a string of memory pearls, unbroken, that shall entwine all our hearts. We realize that mere words fail to cheer the almost broken heart and would ease your sorrow, if possible, with the fact that if there can be a compensating thought it is in the consoling knowledge that our affliction is God's will.
To those still with us who may read these lines, we would ask one kind thought of the irretrievable past. Over in that beautiful land, we may not doubt your loved ones and dear friends await your coming, at the river. Is it not a sweet thought, that you will be met on the other side?
To those who have been called to their reward, may we be permitted to pay a single tribute, as to the belief of the writer, in the transition to
the golden summer of another life where all are gathering for a wonderful reunion.
It is hard to believe, in fact I cannot reconcile myself to the belief that our loved ones and our dear, sweet friends, who have gone before us, have passed through aught else but transition to another life and that we are to see and know each other after transition. All known philosophers of scientific phenomena indicate this deduction and we steadfastly believe it. All our actions in this life show that we do not attain our ultimate end here but that we and everything connected with us have another destination. We find nothing but succession and death is thus understood to be naught but transition to another life. Nor can I imagine that when life has ebbed away and the soul is released from its earthly cage, that we cease to exist. Like Cicero, "I could never think souls live in mortal bodies to die when they depart from them." We behold not each other's souls, while we continue upon earth, yet we infer that all have souls from the very things we see each other do; then why not infer the same when we cease to see each other more in this life. When death has disseminated the human frame, we clearly see what becomes of the material parts as they apparently return to their several elements, but the soul remains invisible, when in and when separated from the body. If the soul were not immortal, never would the desire of immortal glory be a passion, which exerts itself with the greatest force, in the noblest and most exalted bosoms. It is but the shifting of a curtain by which an infinitely more perfect world is concealed from us or in a continual progress toward perfection in a straight line which stretches into infinity. It is clear in scripture and we steadfastly believe it that God has indicated that our destination lies beyond this life. Our very nature shows this life is not sufficient for us. In our death it can only be higher life unfolding itself, before which our present life disappears and that which we mortals call death is but the visible appearing of a second vivification. Read the first chapter of Genesis, without prejudice, and you, will be convinced at once. After the narrative of the creation of the earth and brute animals, Moses seems to pause and says, "And God said let us make man in our own image, after our own likeness." And in the next chapter he repeats the narrative; “And the Lord formed out of the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life” and then adds these words; “and man became a living soul”. Materialists cannot and will never explain these last words. To my mind, it resolves itself into an axiom that assuredly affirms the immortality of the soul and from this we are to conclude that we have but the God given privilege of a life in the realms of bliss not known in this life, but as certainly given its any one thing, not absolutely known, can possibly be that we are to meet and know each other in the life to come. With this definition as to my own belief and my cherished ambitions, I shall await the day when transition to me is given, that I may, when this life is over, in the life to come meet loved ones and sweet friends once more.
Let us take a mental stroll to some of the handsome and prepossessing old landmarks and suburban homes of our town. Among the number may be mentioned, the beautiful Lewis home, on the old Louisville and Nashville Pike north of Franklin that today is as well preserved and as commanding in appearance as it was thirty or more years ago. No family, in this or any other county of the state, stands higher than does the family of Mr. James Lewis, than whom a more honorable, conscientious gentleman never existed. He passed to his reward, loved and respected, many years ago but his sweet companion still lives to bless and make happy the lives of their dear children. It is needless to say that her children worship her and do everything in their power to make her happy and contented. Her friends are legion, and we wish for her and her loved ones many years of companionship and usefulness. The writer has often heard his precious mother tell of having been present at the marriage of her girlhood friends, Mr. and Mrs. Lewis, and in consequence has always had a profound respect for and appreciation of, not only these two dear, good people, but also for their loving children, Mrs. D. Nicol, nee Lizzie Lewis; Mrs. D. A. Caldwell nee Eliza Lewis; Messrs. Vincent, Charles, Thomas and William Lewis. Several years since Mrs. Caldwell passed to her reward and it can be truthfully said that no sweeter, purer or more devoted daughter, wife and mother ever passed from our midst.
Today the old Hampton homestead, about one mile from town on the Scottsville Road attracts as much attention as it did thirty years ago in appearance, it is stately and imposing. Its elevated position commands an enchanting view of the surrounding country. The beautiful shrubbery and trees make it attractive and solicit from passers by many remarks of praise and admiration. Its owner, Mr. Thomas Hampton was one of the master’s precious gifts. He passed to his reward loved and respected by all who knew him. Of his many virtues may be mentioned constancy, devotion to duty, hopefulness in defeat and magnanimity toward all. At one time he -was the owner of considerable real estate and was rated as one of Simpson County's wealthiest citizens. The Hampton home was known for its hospitality and many were the happy social gatherings that held sway beneath its roof. To bless the home of this good man and his dear companion came three girl babies, who grew into womanhood, beautiful, cultured and admired by all; Mrs. Dr. J. C. Douglass, nee Rebecca Hampton; Mrs. W. H. Crowdus, nee Julia Hampton; and Mrs. Elwood Harris, nee Mattie Hampton. For years no festivity was considered complete without the presence of these three charming, young ladles. They were popular with the ladies as well as the young men of the town and many pleasant thoughts will be occasioned through this reflection.
Another attractive and hospitable home was that of Dr. Charles Neely, the eminent and beloved father of Col. Dick Neely, Dr, J. E. Neely, Dr. John Neely and Mrs. Thomas Barlow, nee Fanny Neely. It would not he exaggerating to say that no home in the county was more lavish in hospitality than was the home of this distinguished physician, friend, and benefactor. Few men possessed his depth of thought, power of expression, warmth of sentiment and range of qualities that stamped him a mastermind. He passed to his reward many years ago to the regret of every one that enjoyed his acquaintance. Each member of this family has achieved business or social position.
And yet another old, attractive landmark is recalled through this phase of our reflection, the old Hoy homestead, north of the town on the old Louisville and Nashville Pike. The writer does not recall either Mr. or Mrs. Hoy but he remembers, with pleasure, their devoted children, Capt. Wash Hoy, Thomas Hoy, Kirg Hoy, Mrs. Volney Boisseau, nee Belle Hoy; Mrs. Henry Boaz, nee Sarah Hoy; Mrs. Ben Roney, nee Susan Hoy. The hospitality dispensed at this home continues to this good day, it being our information that the old home is still owned by descendants. In the early days of this family, many elaborate entertainments were given at this home, the young men as well as their attractive sisters, being quite popular in the social circles of our town and county. The sons were among the successful businessmen of the county, while the daughters married eminent men who attained success.
I would be doing myself an injustice if I were to fail to mention dear "Aunt Ann" Thompson and her good husband "Uncle Jimmie" for years" the toll gate keepers as I possess a fond recollection of these two-good people. For years this toll gate existed in the early days on the old Louisville and Nashville Pike, midway between the Hoy and Lewis homesteads. "Uncle Jimmie" was a stone mason plying his trade while "Aunt Ann" kept the gate and it is safe to say that no one ever ran it, while she held the position. Many years ago, "Uncle Jimmie" crossed over the river and only a few years since, "Aunt Ann" followed. No one ever cherished a sweeter memory of a loved one than did this good woman after the passing of "Uncle Jimmie." They were of Scotch birth, having come to this country in early youth, and at their deaths, left a void in the hearts of their many friends that time has not filled.
Out where the old Moore homestead was located, now the northwest corner of the present boundary of the town was to be found a prepossessing brick structure that was the shelter of numberless citizens of the county, for his home stood at the entrance of a hunter's paradise; all that section of the county, north and west, being filled with all kinds of game. After the war or somewhere in the seventies, all of that portion of the present section of Franklin known as Harristown was subdivided into lots and sold at auction. These lots were bought up rapidly and right at that time, more real substantial growth occurred than for many years thereafter. Just beyond the Harristown boundary stood the old Moore homestead, the birthplace and home of respected, lovable, Christian representatives, in the persons of Minus, Wilber, Randolph and Jimmie Moore. They are an honor to their parents, the town, county and state. The writer was always especially fond of Randolph and Jimmie. The success these young men attained in their lite work bears testimony to their exceptional rearing by a devoted and adored mother. Their father passed to his reward quite early in their lives.
Chapter Eleven
Salmons home, flour mills, and the oil boom
I feel that I can say without exaggeration or fear of contradiction, that there is not a residence between Louisville and New Orleans, visible from the passenger train of the Louisville and Nashville Railroad, that attracts as much attention or elicits as much admiration, a does the old Robert D. Salmon home, which for years has caught the eye of the traveling public, standing as it does in full view of all passing trains. As an advertisement of the town and county, its value in this particular is beyond estimation. No doubt the "ambition bee" for the ultimate ownership of this property was set to buzzing many years ago in the bonnet of its present owner, Col. R. H. Lacey, who no doubt, has often been the willing auditor of the query, "Who owns the beautiful residence opposite the station we just left?" We do not know this to be the case but the Colonel is such a great traveler and so filled with ambition, a laudable trait in anyone, we doubt not but that our syllogism is correct, especially so since success has crowned his efforts. Whether this is true or not, we take pleasure in saying that this attractive home could not have passed into more worthy hands than Col. Lacey's and his estimable wife's. It is useless to deny, in this instance, that success is gained through unity of purpose.
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The original owners, Mr. Robert D. Salmons and his accomplished wife were painstaking in their care of this residence and surrounding grounds, one of the show places of southern Kentucky. No man in this or any other state stood higher or possessed to a greater degree the confidence and appreciation of his fellow men than did Mr. Salmons. He was a pioneer in the building of our town, his money making itself felt in ever branch of industry. He was the leading factor in securing our present railroad facilities and for many years served as one of the directors. His breadth of vision, bigness of heart and gentleness of disposition served him in governing the passions and sentiments of his fellow men as though manipulating the keys or chords of some vast instrument. His quickness of perception was only equaled by his caution, as shown in the results of his work.
The daughters of this estimable couple were noted for their beauty, refinement and brilliancy of intellect. These qualities, with numerous other graces, bringing to them admirers and suitors not only of this but foreign countries as well. The successful gentlemen were Mr. Kelley of Nashville, Tenn., who married Miss Mollie Salmons; Mr. Lee of Nashville, Tenn., who secured the hand of Miss Rebecca Salmons, and lastly, but not least, our boyhood chum, Albert McGoodwin who won the heart and hand of the queen of these sisters, so considered, in the person of Miss Bessie Salmons.
It is with sadness of heart that we turn from this picture to the one presented by the Grim Reaper for all, both husbands and wives, have passed to their reward, with the exception of Mr. McGoodwin. Not a member of the original Salmons family is living; father, mother, three sisters and four brothers have gone to that rest from which there is no waking in this lite.
Do you remember the old flour mill of Hampton and Salmons, located about five hundred yards to the right of the ford or present bridge over Drakes Creek on the Scottsville Road? It was operated here successfully for many years but later dismantled and removed to Franklin being erected on the property where is now a cement and tile building, also lumber yard. If I remember correctly, the mill burned down and later another built on the same sight, this being also destroyed by fire. Bob Sympson, Sam Hunt, and Jim Snyder were the managers of both mills until destroyed.
The oil fever struck Franklin just prior to the moving of the Hampton and Salmons flour mill to town, the wells being drilled just opposite the place where the old mill stood on the eastern side of the creek. I do not recall the number of wells drilled or the success attained, if any. I believe some oil was secured but not sufficient to make the venture a paying one. The leading men connected with this enterprise, as I now recall were Robert Salmons, Wm. Duncan, Thomas Hampton, Charles W Milliken, John A. Finn, Chas. Potter, James McCartney and Geo H. Knapp with others whose names I fail to recall. Mr. Knapp was secretary of the organization, as I now remember. In fact, it would be safe to say this at any rate, for at that time and for many years thereafter, no organized movement was considered adequately officered unless this good man, an exceptionally capable accountant was selected to fill one of the responsible positions. The oil excitement was at white hot during the drilling of the wells, but the reliability and business acumen of those managing the enterprise kept out what was at that time termed wildcat ventures, holding a tight reign over would be exploiters.
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The project, after vigorous work and thorough investigation was abandoned and pronounced a failure, the wells being filled or plugged. Apropos and in line with the above, I note in a recent issue of The Favorite reference Is made to the "Old Lick Road" and salt mine, about eight miles northeast of Franklin, where a couple of wells were sunk for oil, but the efforts amounted to nothing. Does this antedate the well sunk, we believe, in or near the same place, in the latter part of the seventies or the early part of the eighties? Among those interested, as I recall were A.S. Walker, S.D. Neely, E. D. Williams and others. An experienced oil man, in this instance, as in the first, was secured to do the work, and It is my recollection that he pronounced this particular territory as being adapted to or indicating the presence of oil. One strong point in favor of this was the salt mine, from the fact that nearly all producing wells, at that time possessed this phenomenon. I remember to have been present at the beginning of these operations which lasted for several months. There was every Indication of the presence of both oil and gas. the air in the vicinity being filled with the odor of both, while the ground about the machinery were conclusive proofs of oil. Just at this juncture, the operator or manager from Pennsylvania, let the drill get stuck in the well and after working for days to extricate it, he disappeared from the scene and for reasons not known to the writer, was never heard of afterward. This threw a damper over the work and those backing the project were afraid of losing too much money, so the entire matter was dropped. In abandoning the work that gave every indication of success, it is the opinion of the writer that one of the biggest finds in the state's history was lost, maybe for all time or will the matter bear further investigation? What a find it would be for Franklin. We would certainly know what to do with that gas now. Who will start the ball?
Only a short distance downstream from the old flour milt of Hampton and Salmons on Drake's Creek, was the "ole swimmln' hole." As far back as the writer can remember this was a mecca for men and boys, big, little, old and young, and how they did enjoy themselves. It was a good mile and more from town to the hole, and everybody footed it, walking in the dust, going and returning and upon reaching home, we found we needed to be at the hole again. The monotony of the outing was broken through a side trip to Hampton's spring, located to the west of the residence near the road. The incline was terrific and while hard to get down to the spring, harder still to get up or back to the road but this part was on the program and, in consequence, enjoyed. In the sense of enjoyment, the same may be said of the fine apples to be had from the Hampton orchard in season. Surely those were happy days.
There are many still with us who will recall, through this reflection, the mixed school conducted in the basement of the old Baptist Church located on the same ground on which stands the present handsome structure. The principal in charge of the school was Prof. W. B. Vineyard, assisted by his talented wife, and Prof. John Brevard, Prof. Abe Bradley, Prof. Wiley Dandell, John Vineyard, G. W. Roark and others whose names escape me. These teachers rapidly brought the school into prominence. The attendance from the county was almost as large as that from the town, boys and girls riding daily, from five to seven miles to school. These boys and girls were happy and congenial, no friction of any kind existing, and in consequence the school prospered year after year until the attendance became so large it put the “ambition bee" in the head of the management and the result was the building of what was then known as Outfit College, just outside the corporate limits of the town, on the southeast corner of the boundary line, near the Hunt, which is now the James Gautier homestead. The inconvenience occasioned by having to pass to and from school over the railroad tracks, with the fear of accidents to children, cut off patronage until the school was forced to suspend operations.
Let us get back to the old Baptist basement school for there is where we left our hearts. Do you remember that old farm bell, that was perched on the end of a big foundation sill, with a wire rope? The peculiarity of its ring was such that when the wire was pulled it seemed to say, "Come to books." It was quite a distinction to be designated as the one to one to go out and splash the clapper of this bell against its sides and often the one selected had a time In fulfilling his mission, for there were some who disliked to be interfered with in their games, especially was this the case in the early spring when marble yards were made and the big marble players had found their stride. Among these were Dole Williams, Charles Lewis, Gus Montague, Thomas Lewis, "Red" John Milliken, Bob Neely, Jobe Grainger, Sanford Duncan, Jess Harris, George and John Hudspeth, Gee Dawson, Napoleon McFadden, Nay Walton, Henry Brevard, and Albert McGoodwin. But all of the games produce cripples that game called "shinny" was the greatest success. Other games indulged in and enjoyed were "town ball," bull pen", “chase the fox” and many others, all of which had the sanction of neighbors and officers of the town. Unquestionably, that was the thirstiest lot of boys and girls ever assembled. They could and would empty four big buckets of water in less than an hour. There was always a ready response from the male students however, when called upon to go for water, but sometimes an extra messenger had to be dispatched after the water carriers in order to get the water. These trips after water were especially attractive to those students with a recitation just about due.
One of the chief features of the school was the debating society organized by Prof. Vineyard, the same holding forth each Friday afternoon from three to five. Among the heavy debaters were Herschel Goodnight, Granville Roark, Charlie McCutcheon, Gee Dawson, John Milliken, Jobe Grainger, Nay Walton, Josephus Reeder, Napoleon McFadden, Geo. and John West, Dole Harris, Geo. and John Hudspeth, Albert McGoodwin, Henry Brevard, “Red” John Milliken, Thomas Pettit, Hob Neely, Thomas and Charlie Lewis, Gus Montague, Garrett Brothers and many others. Prof. Bradley was critic, judge and jury and always performed his duty to the satisfaction of' all the boys for all loved and respected him. The debates were looked forward to with keen interest. The spread-eagle orator of all occasions was Hon. Gee Dawson, who fulfilled the prediction of many of his classmates that he would someday have his voice reechoing in the legislative halls of his state. His favorite introductory remarks were about as follows: "I appreciate the efforts, the grandiloquent eloquence and ecstatic beatitude of the gentleman who has just preceded me, but I cannot fluctuate the animosity of all his high toned celubrications." Having delivered himself of this phenomenon, Gee would hesitate expectantly for approval, which he Invariably received in the form of pronounced applause. The "heavy man" of the society was Jobe Grainger, who was a deep thinker, a good speaker and a boy who was always prepared, hence was feared by his opponents. Hon. Gran W. Roark and Charlie McCutcheon were the oily tongued orators. Judge John J. Milliken, Hon. I. H. Goodnight and Jess Harris were always prepared for debate, through deep study and research. They were big factors and much, feared by their opponents. They were especially fine in tearing down the arguments of their opponents, each being especially well fitted for this as has been evidenced by Messrs. Milliken and Goodnight, in after life in their chosen profession while Jess Harris has accumulated a big, supply of the world's goods and is contented and happy. The mild, gentle debater, always pouring oil on the troubled waters and minds of his opponents and getting away with the decision for his side of the debate, was that astute, big marble player, in after life successful merchant and bank president, Dole Williams. Two good assistants were to be found in Albert McGoodwin and John Hudspeth. There were others, yes, many others, who acquitted themselves most worthily in debate, but lack of space forbids further personal reference. Those were happy days and no doubt these recollections will kindle anew the spark of friendship that through absence and time has been allowed to grow cold.
It gives the writer rather a creepish feeling to go back to childhood days and trace the thread off life to the present moment, and while I had always promised myself this pleasure, I must admit that in the course of the work many heart aches have taken possession of me along with the anticipated pleasure. I am unable to pay the tribute to all that I should like to give but it would take twelve months to write and publish all. I am especially anxious that I incur the displeasure of no one and if there are any so sensitive as to become offended in any way, I herewith tender my apology with the assurance that the error is of the head and not of the heart.
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I would feel recreant to this self imposed task were I to fail in paying homage to those excellent, patient, self-sacrificing, God loving teachers who toiled so incessantly for the advancement of all and I herewith dedicate a monument of esteem and devotion to the memory they built for themselves in our heart of hearts and figuratively speaking, decorate it with flowers of love and forget-me-nots as emblematic of our appreciation of their work in our behalf.
Chapter Twelve
Durham, Ford and Larue
In every town of medium size there is what is known as a town marshal or constable and with the growth of the place, this term is changed to city marshal. In still larger places the term is chief of police, under whom there are subordinates known as policemen.
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It is with the days in which our town sported a town marshal that we propose to deal. The official, at that time, was a terror for all the boys but it can be truthfully said of him that he never harmed or humiliated a single boy, though he certainly had many provocations. He ruled the town as did a watchful school master his pupils and was, without doubt, one of the best officials the town ever possessed, positive, fearless in the discharge of duty, yet kind and gentle with all, and I must tell you that he had about as lively a lot of innocent mischief makers as ever a man had to deal with. We couldn't swing a dummy that he didn't have us rounded up in a few hours. The boys who would indulge in white washing buggies and carriages were known. The fellows who loosened the taps of any kind of vehicle were known. The crowd that placed buggies, all set up in running condition, astride the comb roof of two-story business houses were spotted. Those that changed the gates of residences or painted them many colors were known. This man found out who were the boys that stretched strong strings across sidewalks, who relieved street lamps of over half the oil in order that the lights would go out early and further menaced the town by attaching strings to the clappers of a half dozen bells and at midnight set them all in motion, thereby producing some rather disturbing noises. The noise produced through this arrangement exceeded by far, that occasioned by attaching strings to some fifty or more doorbells of residences throughout the town. These strings were brought together at different points at which they here they were manipulated by willing hands, allowing no sleep for many citizens for a number of hours. The bells would be rung by invisible hands, arousing some good man from his just sleep. Investigations would follow, then at the beginning of a second nap would come another ring, until patience no longer became a virtue. The trouble would only end when the boys would feel the need of rest.
Everything we did fell under the eagle eye of our good friend, then city marshal, James N. LaRue. We often wondered if he ever slept at all.
He kept up his vigilance until he finally wore us out. After a short time the town, under his administration, lapsed into a regular "forgive me if you can and promise not to do so again” condition and while the boys felt keenly the restraint under which they were living, they all admired and appreciated Jimmie LaRue and it is safe to say they feared him too. They felt indebted for his forbearance in many instances and settled down to be real good boys. I do not remember how many years this good man served our town as an officer but he finally retired from the position that had almost been forced upon him by the good citizens and reentered the dry goods business with his brother John J. LaRue and in this connection, I wish to say that there never was a more successful merchant, a more honorable citizen than John LaRue, all loved and respected him. The house of LaRue Brothers was located on the eastern half of the ground now occupied by the Ellis Malone Company. They purchased, if I am not mistaken, the property adjoining them, operated as a grocery store by Frank Batsell and erected on the joint property, the present handsome store house occupied by the Ellis Malone Company.
One of the old landmarks of the town is still extant, the home of James B. McClean on Cedar Street, midway between the public square and the present passenger depot of the railroad company. In the early history of the town when there was only surface drainage, the writer can remember that when big rains occurred, all the section between the present Graded and High School and the old Hampton and Salmons flour mill was often inundated to the depth of several feet. Quite frequently many residents of this section, which was then termed "the bottoms", were compelled to move out of their homes for a few days but this trouble was eliminated many years ago through greater depth being given to the natural drainage and more recently, through tile drainage. At this writing property in that section has advanced in price and is in demand. The McClean home was just above and beyond the flood stage but was often the pleasure of the writer to watch from this home the muddy and seemingly angry waters as they plowed their way through the town. No family in the town, county or state is more loved and respected than the family of "Uncle Jim McClean”, as he is affectionately known by all, and when once a friend, always a friend good and true as steel. Many years ago, his dear companion passed to her well-earned reward, leaving behind her a loving husband, idolizing children and scores of devoted friends. This is one of the families in which the children have been signally successful. George McClean, at Memphis, Tenn. holds an official position with the Louisville and Nashville Railroad as District Passenger Agent and is highly esteemed and appreciated personally and officially. James C. McClean, a Christian gentleman, loved by all, is a successful merchant, businessman and bank director of our town. Oss McClean, of Springfield, Tenn., is quite a successful jeweler. He and his family maintain a high social position in the home of their adoption. Jewell McClean, the youngest child, is associated with his brother, Jas. C. McClean, in the grocery business and is making quite a success to the satisfaction of his many friends. His wife, whose home was in Springfield, Tenn., prior to her marriage, is quite a favorite with all who know her. Two daughters are married, Mrs. John Tatham, nee Jessie Mclean of Springfield, Tenn., whose husband is a member of the woolen mill firm of that placed and Mrs. Sewell Ford, business manager of the "House of Ford," owned and operated by that merchant prince. Col. Matt Ford, and his esteemed wife, Mrs. Mollie Ford. Last but not least by any means, are the two charming, highly appreciated and up to date, twentieth century business ladles, Misses Emma and Mollie McClean, the former having endeared herself to the people of the town and county for many years through her artistic training of the young folk along musical lines. She is today the accomplished teacher of music in our Female College, one of the leading educational Institutions of the South. Miss Mollie McClean is a valuable attaché and member of the well-established firm of Williams, Ferguson and Company and is indispensable as a buyer for the firm in all the leading markets of the country.
Is It any wonder that "Uncle Jim'' should be proud, as he really is, of the success of his beloved children? All are self-made as no silver spoon was ever thrust into their mouths. They have literally fought every step of the way along the road of achievement.
One day there came to Franklin a former physician of the town in Tennessee near the state line called Fountain Head. He felt that his boy, just entering his teens, should begin to rub up against the world so he drove to Franklin, with the youth dressed in his new jeans. Having placed the conveyance in a nearby stable, father and son proceeded to the clothing store of Messrs. Matt and Top Ford who were old friends of the doctors. After inquiry to the health of their respective families, the doctor in a quiet, earnest way, made known his desires to the Ford brothers. He introduced his son and then followed a discussion to a possible business future for the young man. Finally. arrangements were made to give the young representative from Fountain Head a trial and upon this Information being conveyed to the aspirant, it was said that although a cloudy day, the glow upon the countenance of the young fellow so lighted up the store it was thought that the sun had appeared from behind the clouds, to once more smile upon the earth. Like a duck to water, this boy took to his new job and it was not long until he was making suggestions to the proprietors who readily accepted his ideas, which invariably, turned out satisfactorily. This new clerk was fast making friends over the town and county and he concluded that he should mingle more with the younger set, that he might thereby induce further patronage to consider the store but he only had one suit of clothes, jeans, that while comparatively new was rather soiled by the floor sprinkler and the careless handling of a big broom, both necessary in breaking in of a new clerk. He had in mind a scheme that would prove a “Jim Dandy” as a cash producer for the firm and at the same time, make him the envy of all the younger boys, while it would induce parents of the young boys to loosen their purse strings and go right to Fords to deck up and be on par with the indispensable clerk from the village of Fountain Head, if the clerk could summon enough courage to unbosom himself to his bosses and unfold his scheme. Time wore on as did many brooms and sprinklers and especially the jeans suit. Finally, the winter months were gone and spring, gentle spring was manifesting itself on every hand. “Show Sunday” at Sulphur Spring Church was almost due. This was a gala occasion for all, old and young, a regular “Let me show you my new clothes", and to be on hand in an old suit was practically social suicide. Something had to be done and done quickly. So our young friend, he of the jeans suit, now beyond repair, summoned all the courage necessary for a great battle and took the Messrs. Ford to the rear of the store and into his confidence, addressing them in this way, "I want to make a suggestion for the financial benefit of the firm, in the way of advertising, something that I am sure will bring money to this store in the same proportion that "Carter had oats," and if you will allow me to use my own judgment and the ready to wear garments of our handsome assortment of clothes in showing you results of the enterprise stored away in my head, I will prove it beyond a doubt. The Messrs. Ford being not unreasonable and at all times willing to be shown how to multiply the dollars and having absolute faith in this hustling, ambitious young fellow from Fountain Head, told him in so many words that the store and its contents were at his command, to proceed with the demonstration. Revelation is too mild a term with which to describe what took place in the following weeks. The next Sunday morning found young clerk all rigged out in a beautiful blue serge suit, an E. & W. shirt, and collar of the very latest design; and a chapeau, cravat, shoes and cane, that for elegance and style, made you catch your breath. Everything to his liking, he walked around the square, attended Sunday School and church, and was at all times the observed of all observers. The young man had made a big hit and he knew it but not content with his morning conquests, who should appear in the afternoon in a full suit of delicate brown with hat and cravat to match, patent leather shoes and cane. Our young friend, who had set the tongues of the boys to wagging, and the hearts of the girls to beating, repeated his sensation of the morning in his afternoon parade and "killed 'em” everywhere he went. The climax was reached that evening, however, when he appeared at church, in full regulation half dress. It almost caused a stampede among the congregation. "Three changes of suits in one day” was whispered among the boys and girls and the older folks looked over their spectacles but all this made no change in the business of our young Beau Brummel. He knew he had made good and after the sermon, returned to the store, where he slept, took off his regalia and quietly brushed each garment, folded it and put it in its accustomed place in the stock. Monday morning found, the store quite busy in the young men’s ready to wear department, and during the morning, each suit that had been worn the day before was disposed of to eager and fond parents for their dear boys. The day's sales were far ahead of any since the arrival of the young hopeful from Fountain Head and the partners were patting each other on the back and feeling pretty good over their find. Likewise, the young man from Tennessee found his stride. He could now bloom forth each Sunday and on holidays, dressed as he had always hoped, and it looked for a while as though there would be hourly changes for, he was unquestionably an English dude of the eighteen-carat variety.
The strategic business venture of the new clerk, with the firm's ready to wear garments had aroused the whole town and county and the firm, not unaware of the business of their acquisition, voluntarily raised his salary quite a bit. This pleased the young man wonderfully and he determined to pay a visit to his dear parents and friends at Fountain Head. It was the first visit since his advent into the business world, the news preceded him to the little town, where he was met by everybody and everything but a brass band, this omission he could forgive. Upon alighting from the train, consternation reigned for a few moments, for instead of a young fellow in possibly a new suit of jeans, there appeared the pride of Franklin, our Beau Brummel, and the hope of Fountain Head. They do say that he had the time of his life and returned to his new home with splendid resolutions. He did not have to wait long for results. He began to receive flattering offers for his valuable services but true to his good friends, the Ford brothers, simply turned these proposals over to them and they, in turn, increased his salary accordingly and retained his services. There was material worthwhile in this dear boy his energy, inventive genius and indomitable ambition, a trait most worthy in anyone. Finally, the Ford Brothers reached their limit as to salary and allowed this young fellow to accept the offer of another house. Here was the steppingstone, the first change and start in real earnest. This affected, it was not long until there was another change and still another, until conditions improving almost daily for his betterment, he did the wisest thing enacted in his meteoric career. He married one of Franklin's most beautiful and most popular girls and together they set out upon life's busy sea. His next change was that of traveling salesman for a big clothing firm of Cincinnati, with salary and expense account in proportion to the size of the big establishment. He is next found as the "Company" end of a successful, ready to wear clothing firm of Franklin and later his name appears in the firm name. He has been very prosperous, succeeding in all undertakings and the confidence of his townspeople is shown in his elevation to a leading municipal position in the town and later, the "political bee" gets in his hair, under his bonnet, he can’t get rid of it, his friends insist and he finally succumbs. He announces himself a candidate and his election is overwhelming. He is showered with congratulations on every hand, by friends, patient, but persistent observers of the success attending this self-made boy. He has met every expectation and requirement in his honored position and is a credit to his constituency. Let me present to you the Hon. John H. Durham, Senator from the Ninth district in the State of Kentucky, and in making known this dear fellow, of whom the writer is foolishly fond and proud to call a friend, let it be understood that he and the writer have understood each other since the day they met, and that each allows the other privileges without restraint, hence this story, true from beginning to end, the object to bestow tribute where tribute is deserved and to satisfy our heart's desire, God bless John.
Chapter Thirteen
Lynching
Do you recall the old Cooksey home located at the corner of Main and Washington Streets? The residence was a one-story frame, covering nearly the entire frontage of the old Vallandingham lot. It rested on the edge of the pavement and had an addition, from the center, running back some distance. For years this home was the scent of many happy gatherings of the young people for it was presided over by three of the town's most attractive and appreciated young ladies in the persons of Mrs. M. B. Ford, nee Laura Cooksey; Mrs. Top Ford, nee Sallie Cooksey; and Mrs. Matt Ford, nee Mollie Cooksey. An only brother, Alfred Cooksey, passed to his reward many years ago. The property passed into the hands of Dr. A. C. Vallandingham and the present attractive home was erected. The Doctor, with his estimable wife and charming daughters, Mrs. T.W. Stringer, nee Teresa Boling; Mrs. Richard Wilkinson, nee Annie Vallandingham; Mrs. Sam Richards, nee Mary Vallandingham; and Mrs. W. T. LoveII, nee Fannie Vallandingham, entertained their host of friends in this home most lavishly, for years. Only recently, this house was remodeled and occupied as a home by "Order of Moose," a latter-day organization in town, but it was a failure. Franklin is too small to have "clubs," which are costly experiments or attractions to any community.
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Across the street from the Vallandingham home is the Dr. Geo. W. Duncan home, as attractive and prepossessing as it was thirty years ago, but a sadness now hangs over the dear old place that formerly was not of its keeping. This may be imaginary on the part of the writer who was devotedly attached to Dr. Duncan. I rarely pass the house that I fail to recall the memory of the dear occupant, who all too soon, was called to his reward. I do not remember anyone who’s passing away gave such universal sorrow as did that of Dr. Duncan. His professional ability was limitless, and he was one of Franklin’s intellectual lights. He ever had in mind an honorable purpose to guide him through the torturous labyrinths of his dally walks in life. He had a world of sympathy, tenderness and devotion for all, no matter what a person's station in life might be and thereby endeared himself to young and old. He has a place in our hearts that time cannot affect. In his passing he left a loving wife and children who will never meet his equal this world.
My heart is always deeply touched when I recall the passing of this dear friend, who was my father's family physician and when I reached manhood and married, became mine also. To my mind, there is no more sacred tie, outside of marriage, between individuals of this sphere than that which exists between a family and the family physician. Time will never erase this good man's face from my memory.
There are but few of my readers who are not able to recall the location of the old Franklin Cemetery on East Cedar street, just opposite the present residence of Frank Tarpley. Some years ago, this place was abandoned by the city as inadequate for burial purposes, owing to the growth of the town and the limited capacity of the grounds. Subsequently, the beautiful site of our beautiful Green Lawn Cemetery was purchased and made the last resting place of Franklin's citizens.
Just prior to the change of cemeteries, one of our townsfolk had an experience which has been kept under cover all these years, known to none with the exception of the immediate members of the family. It was a fact not to be denied, that this old Cemetery, with its full share of mortal remains, its tombstones reaching well into space and its general weird appearance had a tendency to oppress those passing the site daily or perhaps I should say nightly and gave thereto a feeling akin to that of a child who said, "It makes my feelings crawl." The only excuse for being bold enough or having enough courage to tackle the conditions just related without regard as to results is given in the following experience. One cold, winter's night when the heavens were overcast with clouds, indicating snow and gloom almost appreciable to touch, there appeared on the scene the party in question. He was winding his way, leisurely, toward a brilliantly lighted residence, located on one of the popular streets of the town to attend a quiet "stag social" at which were gathered many of his chums. It was decided that the "anti" should not exceed a penny in value and the limit a few cents for in reality it was only a semblance and not the real thing that was desired for entertainment. There were other features connected with the evening's pleasures that would in all likelihood, dispel desire for lure. They had a merry time, winding up the festive occasion with a big feast at which bumpers of wine, real red wine, were served and while we do not know positively that all partook of this elixir of life, we are forced to believe, through incidents yet to be revealed, that at least one at the feast "fell for it."
It was after midnight when the gay party bid each other good morning and departed for their respective homes. The route to the home of our subject lay along the front of the Old Cemetery and east on Cedar Street. He was plodding along in a light sprinkle of snow, unquestionably, feeling, just a bit, the effects of looking upon the wine. Under ordinary circumstances he was as docile as a lamb and playful as kitten but the wine had given him great globules of courage and in his own estimation, he had the strength of a lion and the cunning of a tiger; he felt that he could, without question, tackle a buzz saw. He, however, selected the middle of the roadway simply because the fence along the slide walk seemed to have It in for him. The panels fairly bumped him around and be refused to put up with it. At this particular moment the Old Cemetery loomed up, a short distance ahead. Intuitively, or from force of habit, he straightened up, braced himself, and seemed to be looking for trouble. He did not, as of old, whistle to keep up his courage and that too so loud that it put to blush the old circus calliope, that he might get by without being detected by the ghosts. Having now reached the Old Cemetery, he walked with measured and indifferent steps, all the while scanning the surroundings, as if challenging ghosts, hobgoblins, or what not. He had proceeded but a short distance when there appeared to his gaze, a white object, resting just beneath the large entrance gate, within the enclosure of the cemetery. He steadied himself and looked again. He could see the object move, or at least, that was his impression. Could it really be true? His vision was becoming blurred through excitement and the effects of the wine and his heartbeat as though it would break through his shirt and vest, the seconds of suspense seemed hours. He would demand to know Its identity. It evidently challenged his courage and suiting his actions to his thoughts, he mounted the gate in a jiffy and standing erect, like some ferocious animal at bay, called out in stentorian tones, "Who are you? What are you? Speak or by the eternals, I'll jump on you and crush you like a rat.” The innocent and unsuspecting object of all this wrath, unaware of the terrible threat that had been hurled at it and the doom that waited it remained perfectly tranquil. In the twinkling of an eye, our "stag social" friend let go his hold on the gate and lighted right on top of his ghost. Up it jumped and ran for its dear life, bleating every foot of the way, not stopping until It reached the far end of the enclosure. Our friend had jumped astride a big, half grown, white calf and rolled off its back about twenty feet from the gate, as sober as a judge, he pulled himself together as quickly as possible, vaulted the fence and was at home in ten minutes.
This is the first public recital of the occurrence and if there are any similar experiences, the "Favorite" will not barr a contribution of this character. Speaking for myself, I wouldn't have had the experience for a deed to the town.
Many will recall that It got to be quite a fad at one time, unfortunately for our history, to take a fellow who had committed a criminal offense, especially a horse thief, over the edge of our sister state, Tennessee, and hang him until he was dead. The next day a coroner would hold an inquest and the verdict would invariably be the same, "Hung here by unknown hands." The body would be cut down, given to friends, and if none, would be buried nearby. The courtesy was often returned by Tennessee and the same procedure would follow.
One night, about midnight, just when we boys were bidding each other goodnight prior to repairing to our respective homes, we were astonished, all at once, to find ourselves held up by a band of men on horseback, coming into town from every direction, constantly swelling in number. We were at the corner, on which stands the McElwain-Meguiar Bank & Trust Company building and were ordered to back up against the doors and to make no noise or outcry. Several of the party held shot guns uncomfortably close to us to see that we obeyed. You can bet we were as meek as mice and not a word was spoken. In about twenty minutes we noticed a body of horsemen coming from the direction of the county jail. It was a bright, moonlight night and as they neared us, we saw two men tied to the backs of two other men, who piloted the horses. Quite a number of men encircled them, but no word was spoken, not even a gesture until this body of men had passed down the Nashville Pike. Then our captors informed us that we were at liberty to move on but must keep absolutely quiet. With these parting instructions, they wheeled their horses and made off after their comrades in a gallop. We watched them until they disappeared from view. Too badly scared to give any alarm and fearing for our own safety, we hurried to our homes and went to bed without saying anything to anyone.
Early morning found the citizens unaware of the lynching of Taylor and Hicks, whose crime is so indistinct in our memory, that we will not attempt a recital, but the fact remains that they had been spirited away by an armed band after overpowering the jailer and had been hung from the limb of a tree east of the L. & N. Railroad about a mile north of Mitchellville, Tenn. It was a ghastly sight those two bodies swaying back and forth in the breeze a terrible picture of retribution. Taylor was a young man, slightly over six feet. He had, evidently, been given just a little too much rope or his weight may have stretched the rope so that the toes of his shoes just touched the earth and the poor fellow in his struggles to relieve himself, had dug or scratched a hole that was fully six inches deep. The dirt and gravel were thrown about by his frantic efforts, which only added to the horrible death he must have experienced. Hicks was a short man and probably succumbed quickly as there were no evidences of a struggle. It was about midday when the coroner empaneled a jury, cut the men down and returned a verdict of "hung by unknown hands." Who claimed the bodies or what became of them was lost sight of in our efforts to get rid of the awful sight and rid our minds of the dreadful impression?
Note: On May 26, 1886 Hicks and Taylor were taken from the Franklin jail by a mob and carried to a point over the Tennessee line and hanged. They were charged with burning the house of James P. Wheeler, of the southwest portion of Simpson County, and attempting to cremate the family. The jailer, Eli Blewett, was described as an efficient and fearless officer but was at the mercy of overpowering odds and any attempt to deter the men would have only resulted in the loss of his life.
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It was said that Hicks, a former Federal soldier, had offered Blewett his government pension and back pay amounting to $1100 to Blewett in exchange for letting him escape. A witness later reported that a cringing and helpless Hicks had pleaded relentlessly for his life as he was drug from the jail. It was to no avail as when the sun rose the next morning their bodies were found hanging from a tree.
Chapter Fourteen
The old Courthouse
Of those who figured in the early history of our town and county and left us for a higher life, it cannot be said that one failed in his mission of goodness or justice to others and we who knew them, cherish memories of friendship and devotion.
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Let us think back to the old courthouse, the one destroyed by fire in the early eighties. On the first floor and on either side of the long hall running north and south, were located the offices of the gentlemen who served the county in omcial capacity. The first on the left was that occupied by the County Judge. This office was held by Judge John L. Stanford and Judge Ira J. Bogan, two good, tried and true men. Prior to election to this office, the latter gentleman was Sheriff of the county and that too in the stormy days of the trials of King and Owens, train robbers, wreckers and murderers, having killed the brother of King. No more fearless officer ever discharged his duty than this good man, Judge Bogan. No better Deputy ever served under him or any other officer than his devoted boy, whom everyone loved and admired, in the person of Virgil Bogan, issuing from the windows of the court room, in his never to be forgotten call, “Riley Tow Riley Tow, Griff Wright Griff Wright.". Tow was a famous witness in the King and Owens trial. Many will smile at this recollection.
Across the hall was the office of Hon. C. W. Milliken and Judge G. W. Whiteside, the latter then County Attorney. Both are still with us to bless their families and to gladden the hearts of a host of devoted friends.
The second and third offices on the left were given over to P. Barton Dunn, Circuit Clerk, and capable deputy, Samuel N. Forline. Mr. Dunn held the office until he voluntarily gave it up. No county in the State had two more efficient officers than these two gentlemen.
Across the hall was the office of Atlas P. Hammond, County Court Clerk, one of the dearest, best men the county ever possessed. He held office until he gave it up of his own volition. Do you recall the very warm friendship and almost constant companionship of Judge Ira Bogan and Mr. Hammond? They certainly had more pleasure and got more out of life while together, than any two friends I ever knew. It was inspiring to watch their devotion, one for the other. The writer has enjoyed many hearty laughs with these two good men.
On the same side of the hall with the County Court Clerk was the Sheriff's office. I recall that Ira J. Bogan, James P. Edwards, John B. Plummer, James L. Plummer and Jno. W. Beard held this office and one or more succeeded themselves. In those named, no county, in this or any other state, possessed men of more sterling worth or greater energy in the fearless discharge of duty. They were popular and highly esteemed and appreciated by all who knew them. Among those of our legal bar who made a reputation that history has recorded and who fulfilled every obligation to society and the good people with whom they cast their lot, may be named Capt. D. C. Walker, Hon. John A. Finn, Hon. Walter W. Bush, Hon. Lee Wilkinson, Hon. W. B. Jones, Hon. Flavius Bland, Hon, D. S. Bryan, Hon. R. P. Finn, Hon I. H. Goodnight, Hon. Hoy Goodnight, Hon. Phil Townsend.
Now let us move on in our mental stroll around the square, recalling as we go, familiar faces of departed friends a pleasant but necessarily sad pastime. In the building on the southwest corner of the square was the office of Dr. L. Jones, a typical Virginia gentleman, a trained and learned physician who was successful in his chosen profession. He left a devoted wife, son and daughter, with a host of friends to mourn his loss.
In the same building was the office of Dr. J. T. Noel, a dentist of exceptional ability. I do not know what became of his family.
Dr. Bryan, another successful physician, who owned the Mebane Sloss, formerly the old Bell homestead, was beloved and respected by all. We will never forget bis beautiful long beard that he wore so well. He left a wife, children and many friends to mourn his passing.
Dr. George Duncan had his office for many years in the drug store of Mitchell and McClanahan, now occupied by Robinson as a drug store. Bud Houston was prescription clerk for the firm of Mitchell and McClanahan for years. The memory of these good men is dear to the hearts of our towns people.
Dr. Jas. H. Milliken had his office for a time, in the Montague building on the south side of the square. He had marked ability as a physician and the exceptional distinction of losing very few cases entrusted to his care and skill. He was loved by all who knew him for his availability, gentleness and sympathetic nature. He left a devoted wife and loving children as well as friends and relatives, to mourn his loss.
Dr. Vertreese who resided for some years at the old Hoy, later the Goodnight, homestead on South Main Street, moved from Franklin to Nashville, Tenn. and we lost sight of him.
Mr. C. H. Edwards, a Christian gentleman and acknowledged leader in his profession, first became known to the writer in a humble on Madison Street between Water and the railroad. He moved from there to the J. H. Smith Drug Store located about where the Keystone Hotel now stands and then to the old Copeland Hotel, which he owned. He passed to his reward many years ago mourned by a devoted wife, children and faithful friends.
In the county may be recalled Dr. J.S. Lane, Dr. Jim Thompson, Dr. George Gaines and Dr. John R. Milliken, who were experienced physicians and whose places will.be hard to fill. Their passing has a sad blow to their loved ones, their relatives and friends.
Among those who fulfilled their missions to the satisfaction of their fellowmen and to the memory of whom lingers with us, may be mentioned Boney Mason, who ran a successful grocery where Lee Rowland now has a business. His brother, Matt Mason, a horse shoer and wagon repairer had a shop on Cedar Street. Geo. Randall owned the old livery stable now operated by Edgar Bogan. Wm. Johnson was Jailer of the county when the residence now occupied by the present jailer was the Jail itself. Other men who served as jailers, whom we recall were Buck Hulett, Cy Wantland, Dud Cardwell and J. B. Plummer. Logan Dishman, an exemplary man and successful carpenter, lived just across the street from the old jail. Wm. Beason owned and lived in the old brick residence, formerly occupied by G. W. Roark, on South Main Street, but later dismantled, and the present handsome home of Mr. Roark erected. Mr. Beason left Kentucky shortly after the war and made his home in Lincoln, III. He was respected and admired as a valued citizen. His dear "Miss Martha," as she was affectionately known, taught school in the old home and many are still with us who received their A B C training under the tender care and instruction of this good lady. Many will recall clever, kind-hearted Jack Goodnight, who owned the livery stable now operated by Shelby Harwell. Mr. Goodnight migrated to Texas many years ago taking his family with him, his wife, two daughters, Misses Sallie and Maggie, and one son. The departure of this family from our midst was a source of regret to many. Mr. Goodnight passed to his reward some years ago in the state of his adoption. This same stable was owned and operated by that clever and ever to be remembered fox hunter, Mr. Hicks Collier, the father of William, Bob, Jack, Earl, Charles and Hicks, Jr., also Mrs. Marmaduke Morton, nee Emma Collier.
On the east side of the square, in one of the handsome stores that adorned that side, two brothers, Henry and Brownlow Atkinson, were to be found. They were thrifty, honorable and the most indefatigable workers I have ever known. They were full of pride and ambition for the welfare of the town and no movement or gathering looking to its betterment ever found them absent. Much to our sorrow, they decided to leave Franklin. Henry settled in Louisville and only too soon passed to his reward a few years ago. No better, truer friend or citizen was ever born. He is survived by his wife, who was Miss Otta Grubbs. Brownlow Atkinson, an exceptionally bright man with an inventive turn of mind, moved to our sister city, Bowling Green. It can be truthfully said that our loss was that city's gain. Brownlow is today taking a well-earned rest on his farm near Bowling Green and it is said that he and his family are truly happy.
Many will recall "Uncle Bingham" Booker. As far back as the writer can remember, he was connected with the Baptist Church and several benevolent organizations of the town. Especially do we recall his services with the Masons and Odd Fellows of our town. He died some years ago and was soon followed by his two boys, Lawrence and Wm. Booker. In their passing, the town, county and state lost valuable men.
In the early seventies, when Franklin suffered such frightful losses through Asiatic Cholera, we recall the death of that prince of good fellows, John A. Crowdus, brother of Wm. H. Crowdus. He was one of the handsomest young men the town ever possessed and was popular and much admired. Had he been spared; he would have made his mark. He had exceptional mentality and captivating personality. One of the best young businessmen of our town was John B. Montague, brother of Messrs. Clem and Henry Montague. For a long time, he was identified with the old Simpson County Fair Association, as its Secretary and in consequence became personally acquainted with nearly everyone in the county. He never married.
Many will recall that dear good man, "Uncle Robert Milliken”, who served as one of the commissioners, having charge of the erection of the present Courthouse after the destruction of its predecessor by fire. The same commissioners directed the building of the present County Jail. Quite a number of years ago, ''Uncle Bob's" wife passed away but he lived to an advanced age to bless his children, Dr. Ben Milliken, Judge John J. Milliken, and Misses Noddie, Mary Susan and Annie Milliken. "Uncle Bob" was the eldest of three brothers, Hon. Chas. W. Milliken and Dr. James H. Milliken. They came from the “Purchase" and settled in this county years ago.
On the north side of the square, about where the post office now stands, Tulley Murphy operated high-class billiard and pool room for years. It was here that the men of the town and county met and passed many pleasant hours. Mr. Murphy was an exemplary citizen and at one time, quite successful. He was Marshal of the town in the early days. His children were Wm. Murphy of Louisville; Aaron Murphy of Clarksville, Tenn., and three daughters, Mrs. Robert Sympson, nee Alice Murphy; Mrs. J. A. Kohlhepp, nee Mollie Murphy; and Mrs. J.A. Sherbet, nee Sara Murphy.
One having met Jim Ford, brother of Messrs. Matt and Top Ford, could never forget him. He was over six feet in height, finely proportioned, and had a heart bigger than his body. He was a devoted, loyal friend, when once he formed a friendship. The venerable father of these men was a brick mason and he taught his boys, in young manhood, his trade. It is safe to say that few brick residences of our town were erected without the assistance of this quartet of good citizens. Mr. Ford passed away recently in Hopkinsville, Ky., the home of his adoption. Many years ago, he joined the church and became a leading spirit in the work of Christ. He left a devoted family, fond relatives and sorrowing friends.
Chapter Fifteen
1900s and the auto
Let us continue our mental stroll. Many will recall Mr. Shelby Harwell Sr. who was a cabinet maker and carpenter. He died many years ago but two of his children, Messrs. Alfred and Shelby Harwell Jr., are still with us. One of his boys, the Rev. Will Harwell, at one time served as the pastor of the Methodist church of our town. They were good citizens and their memory will never fade from the minds and hearts of our people. There were two daughters also; Mrs. Passwater, nee Sadie Harwell, and Miss Almeda Harwell.
Do you recall Mr. Wm. Carpenter?
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Do you recall Mr. Wm. Stringer who was a carpenter by trade? Some of the residences are still standing that owe their finishing touches to him. He was a kind, good man, beloved and respected by all who knew him. His son, Thomas W. Stringer of our town is a self-made man and his achievements in life can not only be pointed to with pride but are worthy of emulation. The old Stringer home, which was the property of Mrs. George H. Milliken, is now in the possession of her daughter, Mrs. Emma Pence, and has been remodeled in recent years. Two daughters, handsome, accomplished and admired, blessed the Stringer home; Mrs. L. D. Robertson nee Kate Stringer; and Mrs. John Moore, nee Mary Stringer. Mr. Robertson was, for years, an artistic and successful photographer of the town, while Mr. Moore is a successful farmer of our county. Both Mr. and Mrs. Robertson have departed this life, but Mr. and Mrs. Moore are still in our midst.
There never lived a better, truer Christian gentleman than Mr. Wm. Swan, the druggist who was called only too soon to that land from which none return. He was mild mannered, gently disposed toward all and no one ever heard him say aught against anyone. In his passing, he left not only a wife and children to mourn his loss, but a host of devoted friends.
We have not forgotten a citizen who was formerly a popular representative of our county in the State Legislature and if we remember correctly, served several terms. The gentleman in question was no other than Hon. Asberry Dawson, father of Medford Dawson, and grandfather of Hon. Gee Dawson, the latter also serving this county in the lower branch of the State Legislature were exemplary citizens.
We would fee recreant to the task undertaken should we fail to mention the exceptional achievements of those two inseparable business companions, so well-known and admired, Charles F. Potter and Jas. McCartney. Their successes are too well known and too fresh in the minds of our people to require further mention. This community could ill afford to lose such representative citizens.
No one ever manifested greater public spirit or deeper interest in the town's growth than Wm. G. Wade. He gave big money to cause, made big money during the war and spent every dollar of it in Simpson County. The two daughters of this family, Mrs. Dr. Jas. Bowling, nee Tina Wade, and Miss Julia Wade were real belles in our social circles. There were two boys, H. King Wade and E. B. Wade, familiarly known as "Bee." H. King is the only surviving member of the family. He is a banker in Arkansas where he located some years ago.
No one could forget those two good men, Mr. George Dickey and Mr. Virgil Copeland. They were in business with Messrs. John and Billie Copeland in the building now I known as the Norwood Store on the southeast corner of the square. They were valued citizens and the void left when they passed from this sphere has not been filled.
I would be doing myself an injustice and especially the good, kind-hearted men whose names follow, were I to fail to mention them, for as a boy, I always received a kind word from each one and in my young manhood, kindly advice and encouragement from all. Though they resided in the county, weekly visits were paid the town. Each made a success of his life's work and left loved ones to mourn his loss. Peace to the souls of those whose names follows; Messrs. King Nicoll, Jack Hampton, Arm Nicoll, James Watkins, James D. Nicoll, Watt Evans, Wm. Milliken, M. M. Sloss, Amos Hall Sr., James Wickware, Charlie Clark, Porter Aspley, Rev. Wm. Morrow, Jas. H. Henry, John Stewart, Umphrey Hammond, Eli Blewett, Thos. Stringer, Wm. Stringer, Henry Duncan, Wilson Beard, Jack Hatfield, John Lovell, Thomas Allen Jones, Hensley Harris, Randall Haynes, George Sam Black and Jim H. Black. There were many others whose names escape me. I do not forget my friends, Bill Miller and Henry Hendricks, though humbled in life's station, each possessed a heart as big as his body, and honor and integrity of purpose possessed by few higher up in life. When Bill Miller caught the Texas fever and migrated to that state, be traveled via Memphis, Tenn. His train was ferried across the Mississippi, there being no bridge at that time. When the train was safely on the boat and had started for the Arkansas side, Bill got out to look at the river and in his wonderment is said to have remarked, "Gee Whiz, Drake's Creek ain’t no whar near the size of this 'ere stream." Henry Hendricks always stood for a high-toned, honorable gentleman, like himself, as he said, "A dyed in the wool, daguerreotyped Democrat of the Jeffersonian type.
Do you remember a clever little gentleman, a jeweler, whose name was Kent? I do not recall his given name, but he and his estimable wife were appreciated citizens in the early days of the town. They moved to Louisville, where two children, both girls, were born to them. One of them is the wife of the Superintendent of the Children's Home of the State, Mr. George Sehon of Louisville, Ky., of whom there is no better or more capable official of the state.
On College Street, between Cedar and Madison, nearly opposite the Baptist Church, was the old Green residence, later owned by Dr. Boney Suddarth, an elegant gentleman, one of the most highly educated, skilled physicians, the town or county ever possessed. His wife died leaving in his care, two daughters, Mrs. Vincent L. Lewis, nee Eliza Suddarth, and Mrs. Adams of Cincinnati, Ohio, nee Ora Suddarth; also, a boy Edgar Suddarth. The daughters figured prominently in the social set of town and county, for many years. They are still with us to bless the homes of the fortunate gentlemen who secured their hands and hearts. Some years after the passing of the doctor's wife, be married a most estimable, cultured lady of our town, Miss Fannie Wood, who was a successful teacher, devoted wife and mother. They are sleeping now in Green Lawn, awaiting the voice of the Master.
On the site just east of the present Shelby Harwell livery stable, on Depot Street, there stood the big, frame salesroom and repair shop of J. H. Adsit, carriage and buggy manufacturer. Mr. Adsit was a splendid citizen, loved and respected by those who knew him, or had any business dealings with him. He was the soul of honor and his passing, only a few years since, was a sad blow to his devoted wife and boy, Dr. Ben Adsit of Louisville, Ky., as well as to his many friends. In this connection, we recall Mr. Marshall, a good man to who served Mr. Adsit as artistic decorator and painter of the handsome vehicles turned out by this fine establishment. He married the sister of two well-known, beloved and exceptionally fine businessmen, whose passing everybody deeply deplored, Robert E. Short and Richard Wilkinson. The writer was from boyhood a boon companion of both and loved them as though they had been his own brothers. They were tenderly mourned by their families and friends.
Down on the corner of Depot and Water Street, about where the flour mill now stands, there stood, in years gone by, a long one-story brick building, now a livery stable owned and managed by that prince of good fellow, Will T. Lovell. Recalling this dear man and his untimely, tragic death, is one of the really sad duties I feel called upon to perform for if there ever was an honest, good-hearted, loyal man, it was this good soul. The writer was devotedly attached to Will who deserved longer life and, unquestionably, a better fate. Many will recall that he was drowned in Cumberland River. In the language of Wordsworth, "The good die first, and they whose hearts are dry as summer dust, burn to the socket."
On the south side of Madison, between Water Street and the railroad, we recall three families, neighbors, that have long since been called home. One or more members of such family was prominent in the business and social life of the town, at one time. I am speaking of the families of Vince Wickware, John Settle and Mr. Douthet. The last-named family moved to Clarksville, Tenn. If I remember correctly, Mr. Settle was a tailor. His children were Robert, George and Mollie. I do not know what became of them. Mr. Wickware was a big dealer in tobacco.
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I overlooked, among the sheriffs of our county, in my last part, clever Dick Robinson, a splendid man, fearless officer and exemplary citizen. He died many years ago.
On West Cedar Street near the present site of the J. H. Durham home was the residence of Thomas Hall, whom nearly everybody knew in his young manhood and married life. He was an active energetic citizen and. loved and respected by all. He and his wife passed on many years ago, leaving two bright boys Elvis and Eustace. The former died only a few years ago, while the latter is a successful banker in Nashville, Tenn. possessing the confidence and esteem of those who know him.
In young manhood, buoyant, light-hearted and full of blissful dreams of the alluring future, married happily but alas, discord, dissention enter in where only angels should and the bands are severed. He drifts from the scenes to quench the fires of requited love and settles among strangers. He establishes himself in the good opinion of the people with whom he has cast his lot. He purchases the county paper and through his wit, sparkling repartee and masterly writings, earns for himself an envied position in our midst among the best of our thinkers. He again becomes a bosom companion of Cupid. He woos and wins a beautiful, highly esteemed and cultured young lady in the county of his adoption. His marriage is announced, and they begin their voyage upon life's tempestuous sea. All goes smoothly for a time. Our subject endowed with a fertile imagination and an ambition that doubtless wrecked his first matrimonial adventure upon life's uncertain seas, try again his luck with life's fickle fortune. He invests, not his but hers, and the card turns the wrong face, result losses. Again, he pleads with the fickle goddess and again he loses. Once too often has he tempted dame fortune. They are penniless, save a small plot of ground and a humble covering for their heads. Time, that mighty and inevitable leveler, waits upon no one for adjustment of circumstances and they are in actual want, sickness enters the home and the mantle of death envelopes the sweet, dear wife and she passes on to another life.
All alone in the world the husband is left. Not a member of either family, not a relative, no not even a friend offers succor to the poor, tired, weary soul. The sheriff takes charge of his home to repay bills for mere existence in the past and to relinquish the debt of the undertaker. A wagon is drawn up before his home, he with a blanket and a few clothes are placed aboard this and he starts on the journey that lands him friendless and penniless over the hill to the poor house. In absolute seclusion, he dwells in an alms house and in his prayers, he murmurs that God forgive those who have driven him from home. Doubtless the ending blasting, as it does, all hope this tide the grave is too much for high tensioned and already immeasurably affected physical condition of this poor soul, and the mental state results in the inevitable collapse. He is taken from his "poor house home" and placed in a mad man’s cell in one of the institutions of the State and in a short time his pleadings and ravings grow less and less until finally his soul is called to the throne of the Master who gave it. ln an ordinary box called a coffin all that was mortal of this man was laid to rest in the ground of the Institution that cared for him. No concourse of relatives and friends followed his remains to the grave, barely sufficient to place the covering of Mother Earth, stood beside his lonely grave and administered the bare necessities required. The sun was sinking beneath the resplendent clouds in the west. The gentle breeze that wafted itself over the newly made grave seemed to sing a requiem of despair and mechanically those performing the last rites to all that was earthy of the man, took up their shovels and picks and tie leisurely strode to their respective homes. The curtain drops, the gentle zephyrs seem to take up "in sad refrain:
"Teach me to feel another's woe,
To hide the fault, I see;
That mercy I to others show,
That mercy shows to me."
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The subject of this sad ending, a resident of our town and county, was a friend of the writer in his boyhood. Whatever may have been his faults, whatever may have been his virtues, I can but say that his ending is to me dramatic and calls from me, if from no one else, a tear of appreciation and loyal remembrance. Requiescat in Peace.
Notes: In 1909, the Franklin-Favorite reported that John Bracken was the first outside the city to purchase an automobile. It was one of the best on the market being a 1910 model and a beautiful car. The following article appeared in April 1910.
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SEVENTEEN CARS
Now Owned by Franklin People and Others Ordered
“As l strolled about town one day this week for the purpose of learning the number and make of automobiles owned by our people," said a gentleman yesterday, “and confess that I was surprised to learn that seventeen are now in use and orders for four more have been placed.” I took along a notebook and recorded as follows:
Dr. J. C. Douglass - Buick Roadster
Dr. W. H. Williams – Hupmobile
Dr. J. G. Gray - Ford Runabout
Dr. M. M. Moss - Ford Runabout
Mr. Jas. T. Lovell - E.M.F. 30
Mr. Claud Eubank – Elmore
Mr. John Lovell - Ford Roadster
Mr. R. G. Moore – Maxwell
Judge I. H. Goodnight – REO
Mr. Thomas Aspley – REO
Mr. John Bracken - Ford Touring Car
Prof. G. W. Browder - Olds Runabout
Mr. Geo. B. Knapp, Jr. - Maxwell Runabout
Mr. Hugh Mullinax - Wayne Runabout
Mr. H. H. Knapp - Maxwell Runabout
Mr. M. E. Johnson – Ford Runabout
Enterprise Machine & Garage Co. - Maxwell Runabout
Chapter Sixteen
Saunders, Harwell, and Biggs
Two brother tried and true men were Dan and James McVaw. The former was a carriage and buggy manufacturer and repairer, located just west of the Bumpus and McClanahan livery stable, while the latter was in the livery business where Edgar Bogan now has his stable. Mr. Dan McVaw resided for some years in the old Hoy home, now the Goodnight home. He finally moved with his estimable wife to Louisville, Ky. where success crowned his efforts and where if we mistake not, he is still living. Mr. James McVaw built and owned the residence on Depot Street, just diagonally across from the old Geo. H. Millliken home. He died many years ago, his wife following him in later years.
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A Christian gentleman and a true friend was Mr. Drew Saunders, who owned and resided In the old John Copeland home, on Madison Street, just west of the LaRue home. He was a big factor in the building of our town and county in every way. One son, Cornelius Saunders, survived this good man and his beloved wife and he with his attractive family now reside in Frankfort, Ky. He is serving the State in some official capacity.
Who could forget the kind hearted Mr. Joe Crow. Certainly not the writer, who always admired him for his many admirable qualities. No man possessed, to a higher degree the confidence, respect and adulation of his fellowmen, than did this splendid citizen and churchman. He was ever active in the interest of the town and county and, when he passed to his reward, his loss was felt by all. In later years his dear companion followed him. His devoted brother, Mr. John Crow, is still with us to bless his children and add to. the happiness of his loyal friends.
You will, no doubt, recall Mr. Blankenship, who was an expert carpenter and artistic finisher in wood work. For years he served the Franklin Plaining Mills under the management and ownership of George B. Knapp Sr. Some years ago, Mr. Blankenship moved from our midst and I am unable to say whether or not he is still living. He and his kind wife were earnest workers in the interest of the Master and were appreciated by all who knew them.
Can any of my readers recall James Bowers who was a telegraph operator at the station in our town? In the early days of railroading it was considered quite a feat to be able to manipulate a telegraph instrument. Mr. Bowers became involved in a compressed air scheme. Whether it was his invention or not was his invention or not I do not recall, but it was the undoing of more than one good man who attempted to furnish capital for the development of the scheme. At last success was achieved but not in the manner defined by Mr. Bowers, who moved to the west where he died.
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Many will be able to recall clover, kind-hearted Polk Steele, who for years served as agent for L.& N. R. R. in our town. He was quite musical and I overlooked his connection with one of our first brass bands. He was popular and merited in every way, the confidence and esteem that he enjoyed while one of us. He died many years ago leaving a wife and children to mourn his loss..
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Clever Burke Vance will be recalled as an industrious, conscientious, good citizen. We remember him, first of all as connected with our College Flour Mills, of the town, and later as owner and operator of the Vance Flour Mill, known by all as the old Hoy Water Mill, located on Drake's Creek. He was successful in his chosen work and lived until a few years since.
In connection with this many will recall the big fish fries that were held at this old mill, an annual event in the early history of the town. The mill was then owned and operated by the Hoy family, under the management of Messrs. Wash and Kirg Hoy. The water was released back of the dam on these occasions and fish enough for hundreds were caught, and served hot on spot by the good wives of the Hoys. They were gala occasions and looked forward to by all who had the good fortune to be present. The feast was not a public one. Those who partook of the hospitality were invited guests and It is safe to say that those receiving invitations themselves most fortunate. The writer, with his parents, was often the happy recipient of an invitation. On a hill just on the eastern side of the creek was to be found the hospitable home of Mr. and Mrs. Thos. Hoy, two as dear souls as the county ever possessed. Their home for neighbors, friends and travelers, where all were treated with impartial courtesy. These two good people are now waiting, on the other side, for loved ones and friends. Their passing, separated by some years, was mourned by loved ones, relatives and friends.
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Some of our best citizens were Uncle Jimmie Biggs and his boys, Depp, James and John. They were experienced carpenters and built many of the homes now standing that give evidence of their superior workmanship. Many years ago, Uncle Jimmie and two of his boys passed on, leaving only one son to continue their good work.
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A man among men one who served the town and county in many official capacities was Judge Ben W. Hall. He was a walking encyclopedia as to early history of the state, county and town. His was a long, useful and contented life.
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Many will recall Bob Moore, who was a groceryman of the town having come from the county to cast his lot with us. He moved to Bowling Green, Ky. many years ago where be died after having endeared himself to the citizens of our neighbor city.
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There are not many who will be able to recall the store of Moore and Green located in what was then known as the "Big Eight" building on the southwest corner of the square. This was torn down some years ago and the present building erected, being now occupied by Gillespie, Mayes and Payne. Mr. Green resided at that time in what is now the George H. Patterson home on West Cedar Street. He moved from there to the old Green home on East Cedar Street, just outside the town boundary as it was then drawn. The children that blessed this union were Billie Green, Bob Green Mrs. Ed. Tapscott and Mrs. J.H. Lyle and Mrs. Louis Moore.
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No family was better known or enjoyed the esteem of more people than the family of Mr. J.C. Travis whose handsome home is now owned and occupied by Col. Dick Neely. His children were Billie Travis, who served through the war as a Confederate soldier and only recently were taps sounded for him; Luther Travis, formerly of New Orleans, now of San Francisco; Duval Travis who has passed to his reward; and two daughters, Mrs. Guthrie, nee Laura Travis, and Mrs. Lafferty. All were popular in the social circles of our town.
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Many years ago there came to our town two distinguished families from Barren County, this state, the families of Mr. 0.P. Summers and Rev. T.W. Bibb. The former was quite successful in business ventures and amassed a good amount of this world's goods. He was prominent in financial and manufacturing interests, a factor in church work, and all that pertained to good citizenship. Two daughters gladdened the hearts of this good man and his loving wife; daughters admired for their mental qualities and womanly graces. Mrs. G.A. Montague, nee Buford Summers, passed to another life some years ago leaving two charming daughters, a devoted husband and many friends to mourn her untimely death. Mrs. Durham, nee Lillie Summers, is still with us, the admired wife of Hon. John H. Durham, State Senator from this district.
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Rev. T. Bibb was pastor of the Baptist Church in this city for many years and passed away in the service of his Master. His dear companion soon followed, leaving a loving daughter, Mrs. H.K. Wade, nee Katie Bibb, and a son, Joe Bibb.
Many will recall Rev. Petrie who was, for some years, pastor of the Baptist church in this city. He resided in the residence dismantled by Frank Tarpley, who erected the present handsome home. He was an exemplary man, a good cittern and a successful worker in the cause of Him, whom he served. Shortly after the death of Rev. Petrie, the family moved to Nashville and we lost sight of them.
Do any of you recall the Gimlin family? These good people resided on the east side of Water Street near the old George Kohlhepp home. Mr. Gimlln was a carpenter by trade. He and his wife died some years ago, leaving three daughters, Mrs. George Tidwell, nee Miss Jane Gimlin; Mrs. Goosetree, nee Fannie Gimlin; Mrs. Upchurch, nee Miss Sarah Gimlin. The two latter named are now living at Portland, Tenn., and one son, John Gimlin, whose home is at Paris, Tenn. Mrs. Tidwell has passed to another life.
One loyal friend of the writer, one who Ii no longer with us was Louis Jackson, the brother of our esteemed townsman, W.R. Jackson, the Jeweler. This good man never showed any enmity toward those with whom he associated, always maintaining a friendly attitude toward all, an example worthy of emulation. He was called only too soon but if we are to be judged in another life, by our virtues in this life, then this dear soul wears a crown today.
Two good men of our town were neighbors for a time, were Rev. T.M. Goodnight, who resided in the old Milliken home, dismantled, and where now is the residence of Dr. J.C. Douglass. and Mr. Carson Eubanks. who resided in the old Beason home, dismantled by Hon. Gran W. Roark. The former pastor of the Presbyterian church in our city, for many years. His dear wife, affectionately knows as Miss Amanda, was a teacher and her classes met at home. There are many still with us who attended this private school along with the writer. Many happy hours were passed. Both of these good people have passed on. Mr. Eubank was a dealer in tobacco and he and his son, Mr. Reese Eubank, were quite successful. A daughter, Miss Kittie was popular among the young folk. Only one descendant is with us, Mr. Claud Eubank. All were highly esteemed citizens.
In one part of Retrospection, we overlooked unintentionally the connection of Mr. Jason Neely and his two sons, Baker and David, with the Franklin Woolen Mills. As we remember they were very successful in their handling of the Mills, and when the opportunity for disposing of the property, at, a good figure, presented itself, these far-sighted men, took advantage of it. They were excellent citizens.
Two good men, business neighbors, were James McGlothlin and Harris Fley. One occupied the store now known as Jackson's Jewelry Store and the other was just next door. Both of these men were clever, reputable citizens, and, to the regret of many, left us some years ago to cast their lots in other states. Mr. McGlothlin moved to Tennessee and Mr. Fley went west. It is our information that both have passed over the river the River of Life.
Many will recall Mr. George Tapscott, a good man and a fine carpenter who, with three sons, Charles, Alex, and Edward, built many residences of our town. Only one son, Edward, survives.
At the old Harwell home, then located on the northeast corner of the square, where the Presbyterian church now stands, lived honest John Howell, who came to us from Warren County. Mr. Howell served as Deputy Sheriff for many years. After the death of his dear wife he returned to his former home in Warren and some years ago passed on.
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Rev. Jimmie Goodnight, a Presbyterian minister, who often filled the pulpits of our churches, resided in our town for quite a long period. He was beloved by all and when he left us for the home of his adoption, Lincoln, Il. his place remains vacant. Only recently he was called to his reward.
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Three good citizens whom I recall were Messrs. Martin Finch, Pete Reeder and Judge Branch Clark. Mr. Finch owned the old Franklin homestead, now a part of the Sanitorium. He resided in the county, but finally retired from active work and moved to town where he died a few years later. Mr. Pete Reeder was a successful stock broker and his line of business gave him an opportunity for forming many acquaintances. He passed on many years ago. Judge Clark, whom every one knew, was said to be the most fearless citizen of our county. He filled many official positions, the gifts of our people, and his passing was a source of regret to all.
Chapter Seventeen McClanahan and Hunt
With this, the closing number, fifty years hence, we trust someone who has read this will continue the work we have begun.
Permit me to tender sincere thank or your indulgence. It is my prayer that, in presenting “Retrospection”, I have in no way offended anyone. If I have caused heartaches, forgive me. If I have afforded the slightest pleasure to a living soul, I am more than repaid. If I have disappointed anyone in that I have failed to recall loved ones or friends. do not reproach me, but in charity's name, remember I am only human, not infallible and accept the will for the deed.
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In memory's treasure house, the mind, wherein the monuments thereof are kept and preserved, I have to the best of my ability and with tender devotion, bade busy memory swing back the dark portals of the past and disclose the picture of eventful lives as they reflected themselves In the gloomy distance. They have been like a tale that is told, their beauteous power but scarce outlives the passing hour, their errors if any there be, are folded up like a book and what mortal hand dare break the seal that Death has set upon them.
All our measures of time and space are fitted for our own condition and bear with them, the frail work of humanity. Created to inherit a beautiful world but only the tenant of a few days, we are prone to look upon all things as mortal as ourselves. The rising and setting of the sun, the blooming and fading of flowers, these are things that daily remind us of the shortness or our own time. We never cast aside the impression they make and yet we claim kin with all that is great and vast and know that we have communion and fellowship with them. We are a part of the gigantic scheme and we persuade ourselves that a day must come soon when we shall see all this order and harmony of the world finished and likewise reduced to chaos. There is a mournful pleasure in these contemplations, a pleasure that we all feel in thinking that everything around us must perish like ourselves, the stars that roll eternally in the sky, the infinity of space before us and the speck on which we stand, an island in the abyss, the mere atoms that we are.
We try to forget that this vast machine, the wheels of which have been working untold thousands of years, shows no mark of disarrangement. Whatever may be our lot in life and what the true purpose of our existence an enviable fate attends us, a fate which bears with it all the marks of eventuating as a result of a law of nature and these laws, unlike those formed by human legislators, it is impossible to break. Though we may be powerful and possess reason capable of making us acquainted with the universe, there is not one of these regulations upon which we can infringe. The beauty of life, the stillness of death, as applied not only to ourselves, but to every material atom, are decrees against which we would struggle in vain. These decrees show us the limits of our condition. There is something in the calm regularity of these laws that persuades us to commit ourselves, unreservedly, to their operation. There is no mystery surrounding them, nor does a royal road lead to them. Remember, we are moment, that life is a journey, on a dusty way, the farthest rest is Death; In this, some go more heavily burdened than others. The days of our lives are not to be esteemed, according to the number of them, but as to their goodness. Muse not, how many years you might have enjoyed in life, but how soon you might have lost it. Let it suffice that you have lived to this day, and not for naught. Let us not be blinded and deceived by inordinate passions in worldly concerns, nor have so little consideration for the future, that we scarcely look beyond the passing day. Let us not be absorbed in present gratifications, as to have no feeling of consequences, no regard for the future ease or fortune in this life, any more than for the happiness to come. Let us remember that we owe to the future a debt and must prepare to pay it, that the intellect Heaven has loaned us, is the property of posterity; that we have had some smiles of Fortune, favors of the worthiest, some friends, and that we are all children of the Master and have never been disfavored by Him.
On East Cedar Street was located the handsome home of Mr. J. Wes. McClanahan, the scene of many handsome and enjoyable entertainments, presided over by his three accomplished and deservedly popular daughters, Misses Sue, Mattie and Emma McClanahan, who after partaking of the joys and pleasures allotted to young girlhood, and enjoying the benefit of extensive travel, became the wives of Messrs. Robert Ford, James Lovell, and Harvey Wade, respectively. Mr. McClanahan was one of the pioneers of the town and county. He had extensive real estate holdings and was one of the county's wealthiest men. He was one the organizers of the McElwain-Meguiar Banking Company and if we mistake not, its first president. He was admired and respected by all who knew him, a man among men. He was true and steadfast in his friendship, kind and considerate, with firmness that brooked no interference. It can be truly said of this good man that, it is rather the breadth of the stream than the force of the current that we look to, to fulfill our ideas of greatness. Many years ago, his dear wife passed to her reward, and only a few years later he joined her. Just recently, Mr. and Mrs. Ford passed to another life, leaving two boys, Mr. and Mrs. Lovell, and Mr. and Mrs. Wade, with their families and an army of devoted friends to mourn their loss. On the northeast corner of the town's boundary line, on the Morgantown Road, stood the home of Mr. W. B. Jones, who in the early days of the town, was one of its prominent attorneys. At the close of the War he migrated with others of our town and county to Illinois, locating I believe in Lincoln, III. He never returned to this place, for even a visit, after he left us, and recently, his death was reported. His home was bought by John Brevard, at one time the proprietor and editor of our county paper. Mr. Brevard made quite a success of the paper and disposed of it later on, realizing handsomely on the investment. There were few men of this town or county endowed with a higher order of intellect than that possessed by this exceptionally brilliant man. He was greatly beloved, honored and admired by those who had the good fortune to know him. His passing was a loss to the whole community. In his early days, he was a successful teacher of the young people of our town and county and there are many still with us who received their training under this good man. He is survived, we believe, by all his devoted children, among whom we recall Henry Brevard, a dear chum of the writer's. Years ago, Henry removed to Texas, where he is today an appreciated bank president in the town of his adoption. Another son, beloved by ail our citizens, is the Rev. Chas. Brevard. Mrs. John G. Harris, nee Ella Brevard; Mrs. D. A. West, nee Lida Brevard; Mrs. Wm. Holland, nee Bessie Brevard, Misses May and Annie and the youngest son, Henry are the other members of this exceptional family.
One of my friends and dally companions was dear Crit Hunt, the esteemed father of Hubert Hunt of our city. No young man in our community had brighter prospects in life and possessed to a greater degree all the admirable qualities that go to make up successful citizenship than did this dear, good soul. In early life he was called by the Master and not one of his children has heard the call with more complacency and resignation than did this sweet Christian spirit. He was loved, respected, and his passing, mourned by all.
Down on the corner of South Main and Madison Streets, where the Dr. Douglass home now stands, there dwelt a happy family in a humble and unpretentious frame dwelling. In the primeval days of the town and county, it was a log cabin, but now weather boarded, it stood out as an up to date home of a different period quite trim in its new dress of white paint. A few trees, the Master's first gift to the spot, had grown to full size and because of their position, their glorious shade made them an acquisition not to be dispensed with. It was in this humble, yet to the mind of the writer, palatial home, that he (the writer) shortly after his advent into the world, began his real existence. It was under this roof and the shelter of these wonderful trees, that his father and mother gathered so much inspiration and imbibed so much of God's blessings, that eventually resulted in better days and surroundings more congenial. Yet, after all there was never a spot so dear, so full of meaning, so filled with precious memories as this old log cabin. There is pathos a meaning in its humbleness that words fall to portray. It was there in my unpretentious wooden cradle, rocked by the foot of a blessed and adored mother that I began the development that finds me, at this hour, clinging to the pleasures, the joys, the beauties of the irretrievable past to, if possible, discern some way to repay even now more justly and fully the debt I owe her, who gave me life and for whom I always endeavored to show my gratitude, my love, my never ending devotion. Who that has languished, even in advanced life, on a bed of Illness and despondency who that has pined in a weary bed in neglect and loneliness, but has thought and wished for the mother that looked on his childhood, that smoothed his pillow, that kissed away his childish tears and administered to his helplessness. Oh! Mother! Mother! there is a tenderness in thy love that transcends all other affection of the heart. It is not daunted by danger, nor stifled by ingratitude. You would sacrifice neither to be chilled by selfishness, every comfort to your boy's convenience, you would surrender every pleasure to his enjoyment, you would glory in his achievements and exult in his prosperity, and if misfortune should overtake him, he would be the dearer to you for that misfortune; and if, perchance, ignominy should tarnish his good name, you would still love and cherish him in spite of his disgrace. Lastly, if all the world should cast him off, he would still be all the world to you, "your boy."
How tender, how true, how beautiful and how like the lily thou art, who loves the sun, and opens the dazzling white of her bosom to hit smile of greeting, as he rises and when he sets, covers her face and droops her head, forlorn all the night, or like the lotus who loves the moon; and as soon as his silver light gilds the water lift her snowy neck above the tide and sheds the perfume of her amorous breath, which is thy love over the universe. Oh! that it could endure for all time, but alas, the withering blight of time decays, and finally destroys all; for It Is written, that not alone with us, but with every material atom, "Thou shalt be born and die."
How bitter the thought, how speedy the approach, bow stealthy the step, how uncertain the hour, how universal the sway of that angel known at Death. The powerful know not how to escape thee, the wise know not how to avoid thee, the wealthy are not rich enough for thee since none can buy life with treasure. All things have their waxing and waning, but thou remain ever the same. Thou art a net into which all fall a prison, into which all must enter, a sea upon which all must venture, penalty which all must suffer, and a tribute all must pay. Oh! Death! Death! cruel. implacable, unrelenting enemy of the human race, why hast thou entered this world?