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William Shelburne
Cox
The Little Professor
By Bonnie Ball
It may appear strange to begin a life story in the middle. However this
one starts at the point where the subject was first introduced to the
writer.
My own formal education began in a dingy little
gray schoolhouse in a crossroads rural community. It was well past middle
age when it gave way to a new order. To a small child it was an exciting
experience, yet in many ways it was a sad exodus. We carried with us many
nostalgic memories - grapevine jumping ropes, spelling matches, the keen
competition among older pupils to win the most "headmarks" of
the term spelling classes, exciting "exhibition" programs that
included graceful drills and sometimes were accompanied by the luminous
stage effects of tableau lights, hilarious black-face comedies, dialogs,
morning and afternoon recess, sadly brought to an end by the clamor of
the children in unison, "Books! Books!"
Then there came all-day meetings at the little
schoolhouse, with music, speaking, and a picnic lunch spread out on tables
and long desks. As children, we knew that something important was happening,
but its true significance eluded us at the moment. A number of county
and state dignitaries were present. There was much discussion among school
officials regarding "new educational facilities." A definite
air of optimism was sensed among the local citizens.
What really did happen was the school authorities
and interested citizens for miles around were putting their heads together,
and good heads they were. In less than a year's time we found ourselves
entering a new white frame building with upstairs classrooms, a high school
department, piano teacher, and a music room that contained a sliding partition
to provide for an extension to be used as a large auditorium.
The little faded schoolhouse was torn down and
its materials converted into a school boardinghouse. The old site was
turned into an athletic field for baseball and soccer. On the opposite
side of the highway, near the new building were basketball, volley ball
and tennis courts. There was even a trapeze.
This marvelous new project was one of expansion
which brought gasps from older citizens and happy adventure to the youngsters.
It called for funds, and more funds. Truly it was a man-sized job, and
everyone was in for something of a surprise when the "Little Professor"
was seen riding in on his horse from over near Jonesville.
He was a small man with impressive eyes and a
sparse growth of hairs,that was covered by a black derby. But the Little
Professor made up for the deficiency in size with his ever alert mind
and capable hands and feet. He spoke in soft staccato-like tones. His
public speeches, opening prayers, and announcements were always brief
and to the point.
Everyone liked the Professor. Patrons and pupils
alike enjoyed playing little jokes on him. One favorite prank of the high
school boys and girls was that of "accidentally" knocking off
the black derby with the volley ball. It was a joke of high school boys
that brought my father into the fun.
A few miles from our school rose a tall oblong
ridge called the "Buzzard Roost," that was said to be the highest
elevation in Lee County. The Professor kept insisting that a large group
of large boys familiar with the ridges take off early some afternoon and
escort him to the Buzzard Roost, since it was not convenient for him to
make the hike on weekends.
Practically all the gang had at some time visited
the Buzzard Roost. However, when darkness began to overtake them they
pretended to be lost. One young fellow waded a marsh just to see the Professor
splash in behind him.
Eventually, even the Professor's enthusiasm waned.
He climbed upon a pair of rails that lay on top of a low rail fence dozing
off to sleep while the boys went out to "borrow" some soft ears
of corn form a new-ground corn patch to roast in a fire for their supper.
In the struggle of the feast someone ran into
the fence rails and woke the Professor, who joined them in eating roasting
ears.
Afterward the group started toward home, wandering
about in the dim starlight. Finally they spied a familiar little Primitive
Baptist church, crept inside and slept until early dawn, when they headed
toward school, reaching the boarding house just in time for a hearty breakfast.
When my father heard of the escapade he decided
that it was too good to keep. So he mailed a written account of the unsuccessful
expedition to the Pennington Gap News, adding that, if the Professor wished
to try another trip to the Buzzard Roost, it would be well to take along
a pair of wooden overshoes.
Sometime later Father sent a request to Professor
Cox that he select an interesting book from the school library for him
to read. Even though the Professor had promised to wreak vengeance upon
him for such publicity, he only retaliated by sending him a copy of "Peter
Rabbit."
It was a real adventure to be allowed to go to
the Professor's room and sign a card for a book to take home. It was stimulating
to march to music each morning into the room where chapel services were
conducted, to learn hymns and patriotic and folk songs. It steadied us
to hear the Professor read from the Bible and offer a quiet but earnest
prayer for daily guidance.
There was a large bell in the tower on the new
schoolhouse that could be heard a half-mile. It was used to hurry us along
and remind us that playtime was over. It rang promptly at 8:00 a.m. for
chapel services and 4:00 p.m. for dismissal. We still remember how the
Little Professor tolled it gently when two wagons approached, bearing
two black caskets, in which were two members of the community's only black
family. He continued tolling it until the white procession that followed
it passed out of sight. (Both the father and a daughter has succumbed
to a severe measles epidemic).
The Little Professor stayed in the home of my
uncle, where he slept in an unheated upstairs bedroom with an open window
all through the winter. School Superintendent J. C. Boatwright once laughingly
referred to the Professor as a "fresh air crank." And, indeed
he was a stickler for health rules, aw well as for good English.
My oldest brother had acquired a habit of replying
when he failed to understand with the slang word, "Huh"? Once
he used it when replying to the Professor, who said, "Here you are
saying huh again!"
He trained every boy in high school for a declamation
at the close of school, regardless of the boys' timidity or speech difficulties.
His debating clubs were unlike anything the little community ever saw
before, or afterward. There was some real talent in his school group,
and he lost no opportunity to make use of it. Among those with outstanding
talent were the well-known Hall brothers who were born fifty years too
soon, for their performances would have put some of the current country
music shows to shame.
The Professor's faculty included some capable
people: the Misses Maude and Darepta Duff, and some excellent music teachers
who helped to put our little community on the map. The three and four
days of commencement exercises were attended by hundreds from long distances,
and all this was in the horse-and-buggy era.
William Shelburne Cox was born on November 10,
1875 at Jonesville, Virginia - the son of Nathan and Mary Gobble Cox.
His mother died when he was quite young, and his early life was spent
in the home of a relative on Wallen's Creek in Lee County. After his father
married a second wife, Bertha Williamson, he returned to the home near
Jonesville, where he grew to adulthood. He attended school at the old
Jonesville Academy. Later he enrolled in Emory & Henry College where
he received his B. S. Degree in 1900. Afterward he returned to the farm.
On July 23, 1905 he married to Miss Ida Mae Roop.
They had five children: Mary Ethel, Walter Roy, William Frederick, Winnie
Williamson and Mabel Emeline. At the time of his death, Mr. Cox had twelve
grandchildren and ten great-grandchildren. (Mrs. Rose Quiullen, whose
Pridemore relatives were associated with Professor Cox, recently wrote
a little story of Mr. Cox'ss that she remembered. When he was a small
boy the Coxes and Rupes were neighbors. One day his mother dressed him
a long homespun suit, and took him over to the Rupes' to see their new
baby girl. His mother held him up to look at the baby. It must have been
love at first sight, for she later became his wife.)
His teaching career began soon after his graduation
from Emory & Henry. He taught history and mathematics at the old Jonesville
Institute in 1901 and 1904. He was also a leader in the Uranian Literary
Society and debating. He spent thirty years in the teaching profession,
and with the exception of two years, all were in Lee County. (One term
was spent at Portsmouth, Virginia and one at Princeton, West Virginia.)
His interest in education never lagged. During
his early career he organized and conducted teacher institutes in which
men and women were prepared for the teaching profession. He initiated
the establishment of high schools at Flatwoods, Stickleyville, and other
new schools throughout Lee County.
After his retirement from teaching he kept in
close contact with the promotion of education. He did much writing and
carried on correspondence with hundreds of former students, which consumed
many hours.
He loved the Church and served his Master well
throughout his life by teaching and living the principles of Christianity.
He served as Sunday School Superintendent, teacher of Bible class, and
in other church offices during the major portion of his life. Even though
he was unable to attend Sunday School during his last years, he always
prepared his Bible lesson on the Sabbath.
After he passed his 90th birthday Mr. Cox became
an associate editor of The Lee County Sun which was published at Jonesville
during the 1960's. In his column he gave a vivid description of the old
Methodist Camp Meeting, near Jonesville, which he attended all his life.
He wrote in detail about the portions of the old camp meeting site which
were still parts of the original structure, and the approximate years
in which other features were added. He described the old stone wall that
was built in 1886, and how sections were subsequently removed to make
room for additional buildings and features.
In a column devoted to weather topics he related
that he could remember back as far as 1886, when they had 18 inches of
snow and the thermometer registered 20 degrees below zero. He added"
I have seen snow hang on for two months, but it didn't seem so cold; and
I have trudged to my school for a distance of two miles. That was before
we had good roads, school buses, and limousines. I don't remember of ever
dismissing school on account of the weather - wet, dry, hot, or cold."
Other columns were written following his 90th
birthday in 1965. Some of his congratulatory letters referred to a series
of corn huskings at his home one week - during his busy years of teaching.
These corn "shuckins" parties were shared by members of Mr.
Cox's Bible class. They not only proved helpful to him, but there was
much fun in sharing his responsibility, which was later rewarded with
homemade ice cream, pies, cakes, hot coffee, and music.
Then Mr. Cox conceived the idea of hiding all
sorts of articles among the ears of corn. Some were worthless things such
as old tin cans and bottles, while there were also apples and a jug of
buttermilk. One this occasion almost the entire Bible class came to husk
corn, and there were two freezers of ice cream, and an abundance of refreshments.
The party after the husking was over became so interesting that no thought
was taken to the time until the mantel clock struck 1:00 a.m.
A small group of lawmen from the St. Charles
area had been on a raid near Cumberland Gap in an effort to snare some
booze offenders, but had failed. As they drove out on the east end of
Jonesville's Main Street they spied a stream of cars traveling down Highway
58, and decided that this could be their chance for a seizure. Watching
until all cars turned up the Town Branch Road, they hurriedly drove down
and formed a road block. They proceeded to search the cars for booze.
In the darkness they failed to recognize any of the men until they came
to the car of W. L. Davidson and Robert B. Ely, who assured them that
there was no booze in any of the cars, and that all of them were sober.
One of the lawmen had discovered the preacher
(R. G. Farmer) with his jug of buttermilk and thought it was booze - until
he had sampled it. They were at the point of making a wholesale arrest,
and taking all of them to jail. Having discovered their mistake, the lawmen
went on their way, "whilst the members of our hilarious party had
a good laugh and went home. But it was a long time before we heard the
last of that episode."
During his long life Professor Cox was an outstanding
a farmer as he was an educator. He constantly worked to improve the soil,
establish orchards and woodlands, promote good seeds, and improve cattle
herds. His goal was to leave the world a better place in which to live.
He loved people and enjoyed conversation. On July 4th 1968 he spent the
day visiting with friends at Cumberland Bowl Park. On July 6th, while
writing his diary and the accounts of the previous days, he rested his
head on his writing table to collect his thoughts. He entered into "eternal
sleep" with his pencil still in his fingers.
His greatness of heart, tireless energy and utmost
integrity remind us of another great American who "now belongs to
the ages." Long live the indomitable spirit of the "Little Professor,"
who seldom, if ever, had a superior in religious and educational realms
of Lee County, Virginia.
Historical Sketches of Southwest Virginia, Published by the Historical
Society of Southwest Virginia, Publication 8, June, 1974, pages 47 to
51.
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