William Eugene "Gene" Barber, Artist, Instructor, Historian & Genealogist authored a series of articles for the Baker County Press entitled "The Way It Was".
His articles covered all aspects of Baker County pioneers lives in a colorful, entertaining, as well as, educational manner.
At an early age, Gene possessed the desire and ability to interview the 'Old Folks'.
He was as talented in the use of the pen, as he is with a brush, choosing his words and expressions
in a way to paint an exciting and interesting story.
The following are Gene's articles as published in 1979.
THE BAKER COUNTY PRESS, Thursday January 4, 1979 Page Two
THE WAY IT WAS - Gene Barber
A Fresh Start
Yearly beginnings are nice things. They provide us with (1)
an excuse for waxing sentimental and (2) the perfect opportunity for
setting our records straight. In this our first column of the new
year we wish to remind our readers that we've been reporting
the past to you for 3 1/2 years (missed 2 issues because of the
writer's forgetfulness and laziness).
Not being very professional in the face of criticism and verbal
abuse, we've quit in disgust and anger 42 times. We believe in the
past 3 1/2 years' writing we have been correct twice and know of
49,472 major mistakes. We have sworn off writing anything else
about the families Griffis, Crews and Raulerson.
Your favorite stories, if response can be our guide, were
those involving blood and gore, references to sex, and outright
slander. On the plus side, almost as many comments (nice type)
came in from the writings your acceptance of which worried us
most - PRESS and STANDARD news items from the '20's through
the '40's, ex-slave and state representative Samuel Spears'
eulogy of his former master Elisha Green, our personal
memories of Christmas, the Canady Fort, Mose Barber's story,
the interminable lists of Confederate soldiers, and, "Can Any
Good Come Out of Nazareth."
Your most "unfavorite" of those you found disturbing and
incorrect: the Crews Family (our critics greatly aided us in-righting
the wrongs), the Griffis Family (same here except for the couple
who have promised to use a lightered knot on us), the Raulerson Story (almost the same except
that almost all the unfavorable remarks came from non-Raulersons and those have been neatly
negated by good comments and back-up information from members of that clan.)
Response to last September's "New Jersey, and Downtown
McClenny" article was varied and hardly ever calm - enthusiastic in
agreement or, as one lady (we know she is a lady because of her
colorful language), put it, "it's people like you moving in here
who cause us so much trouble." Another lady suggested I go back
to where I came from. It would have been easy; the writer was
talking to her about a couple hundred yards from where he was
born.
Local Black history has been painfully short-changed in this
column and we acknowledge the criticism (most from non-Blacks).
Lord knows we've been digging and trying. Have you ever tried
researching a people who were denied being recorded and whose
lineage was given much less attention than that of hunting
hounds? Rev. Marion DeGrate, educator and Black leader of post
Civil War days, will be among our first such presentations.
A few columns of corrections were planned but, seeing as how
that project would run 24 issues long, we will publish only our
major goofs and corrections along with much new material. We hope our readers have not forgotten
that a county history is still coming in book form (only 3 years
overdue) and we will have more corrected information included in
its' text (the book is not just a compilation of these articles,
by-the-way.)
Maybe we should change this column's title to THE WAY IT
WAS - And Quite Often Still Is since our format has begun to
relate history a bit more to our present (no, Dear Reader in Lake
Butler, we won't be cutting out any of our good ol' history...just
seeing if we can use it to keep us from making the same mistakes
again.) Your response to this has been very good.
We will also be bringing a few suggested itineraries for local and
neighboring area heritage tours. Inexpensive and interesting, although perhaps not as exciting
and educational as "Laverne and Shirley," these little trips might
surprise you with how much they can teach you about yourself and
your home. This might be a great way for our newcomers to learn
something of their new home (you newcomers do read our little
offerings each week, don't you?)
And, although we are far behind on our answers and other
correspondence, we still invite your queries, comments, corrections and information.
Back Home
THE BAKER COUNTY PRESS, Thursday January 11, 1979
Some Historical Notes On The Rev. Marion DeGrate
Dear Editor:
This is in response to the historical note column in the
Press Jan. 3, 1979 concerning the intention of the Press to write
historical notes about one Rev. Marion DeGrate.
Being one of the granddaughters of Rev. Marion DeGrate, I deeply
appreciate your effort to research and publish notes about my
grandfather of whom I know very little about due to the fact that he
had deceased at the time of my birth. However, my mother,
Mamie DeGrate Peterson, often talked of Rev. DeGrate and his
activities. There are other persons living today, namely, Mr. Edgar
Lewis, Mr. William Lewis, Mr. Manard Patilla, Mrs. Elsie Lewis,
Mrs. Etta Bird and maybe some of the older grandsons and
ganddaughters.
Rev. DeGrate is listed in the records of the United Methodist
Church's deceased ministers column.
Some known facts about Rev. DeGrate is that he was a former
slave who escaped from his owner and joined the Union Army. It is
believed that he assumed the name Marion DeGrate of his own
choosing, as I have not been able to find any other people by the
name DeGrate. He arrived from South Carolina to Sanderson, Fla.
the then or later county site. There he married the former Rosa
Snowden who was said to have been the sister to the mother of
Mr. Arthur Givens, Sr.
To Rev. and Mrs. DeGrate were born five girls, Florence, who now
has one living daughter, L. D. Burke of Bunnell, Fla.; Maggie,
no living offspring, Eliza, one living adopted son, Clifford;
Emma, one living son, Melvin Smith of Jacksonville; two living
daughters, Juanita Lille Bolden of Macclenny and Inez Ingram of
Jacksonville, Fla.; Mamie DeGrate Peterson, five living
daughters, Lois Peterson Dilliard of Jacksonvilie Beach, Marie
Peterson Lewis of Macclenny, Edith Peterson Dowdell of Jacksonville, Ruth Peterson Atwaters
of Jacksonville, Catherine Peterson Parker of Macclenny; one son
George A. Peterson of Jacksonville, Fla.; a number of grandchildren and great grandchildren
of the late Mamie DeGrate Peterson are also offsprings of
Rev. DeGrate.
Rev. and Mrs. DeGrate, it is said, moved from Sanderson to
Macclenny in the late 1800's and settled on approximately 5 acres
of land which he had purchased from a Mr. Turner. The parcel
now grown up in trees is located in the section of southeast Macclenny known as Baby Town just
east of SR 228 and west of the Old Maxville Road.
Marie Peterson Lewis
Back Home
'Mystery hole' unearthed - Do you know what it is??
Was it the burial chamber for a king of some forgotten civilization, or was it a launching silo for
prehistoric space ships? Maybe, a long-ago sheriff built it for his
secret cemetery for extra bad prisoners. "A passage from the
sub-terranean world of evil" was the guess of one bystander
doubtless inspired by the recent rash of books and movies of that
theme.
McClenny's Mystery Hole began Monday, October 29, with
nothing more ominous than a slight depression in the backyard
of the Sew-N-Nook at the south east corner of Sixth Street and
McIver. Owner Mrs. Bottom called her landlady Wilma Morris. Mrs. Morris decided the
hole's proximity to both city and county property dictated that
representatives from both governments make a joint inspection
of the unusual but not alarming sinkhole (Baker County is not
within Florida's sinkhole region).
All agreed to postpone digging until the main activities at the
Haunted House sponsored by the Junior Women's Club in the
adjacent former Jail were over.
On Tuesday, October 30, at seven o'clock in the morning, the
city work crew, under the supervision of Messers. Kirkland, Burnsed, and Varnes waited eagerly
with their shovels for the word to begin excavating. As the morning
mists lifted, the digging was obstructed three feet below the
surface by a concrete slab. Suddenly the concrete gave way
and part of it crashed far into the bowels of McClenny. Peering into
the dim underworld the foremen discerned brickwork.
Thus far, the mysterious hole has yielded a veritable treasure,
viz. one leg from a cast iron stove, a decorative bracket from an
ancient student desk, an indistinguishable straplike metal piece,
and one rather worn 1887 nickel and one thighbone shaped object). The archaeology team returned to their work with renewed
enthusiasm aided by one good backhoe operator - Buster Padgett.
By Wednesday, October 31, the hole was barricaded against little
trick-or-treat goblins falling in and underground goblins climbing out and was visited by former
sheriffs and city manager. The parties viewed the fine very red
brick masonry that curbed a perfectly round chasm about ten
feet across. They noted the four dissimilar-sized drains that entered from the four points of the
compass. When the pumps cleared the hole of water, the neatly
cut clay walls that continued down for perhaps twenty feet were
easily seen.
"A cesspool," ventured one. But conspicuously absent was the
typical malodor that hangs around buried cesspools for longer than a
century. "A street sewer seepage well, "offered another. "The
town never had street drainage until the early fifties," corrected
one who had been with the city for several years. "How about a
cistern?"- Cisterns have solid walls and bottoms for collecting
water from the sky, but the mystery hole was constructed like
a well that collected water from the earth. "A well that doesn't
begin until three feet below the surface?"
And so, under the guard and gaze of a ghost suspended in a
doorway of the old jail, the mystery hole lay gaping until
Monday, November 5, when the city crew carefully returned brick
and concrete, with sufficient clay, to the hole to insure that whatever
it held can never get out...unless it already had, and thus, can
never return to whence it came.
Withheld were the treasures of cast iron, bone and V nickel. All
concerned agreed they should go to the new Baker County Heritage
Museum where everybody can see a reminder of the Mystery
Hole of McClenny.
The Press will welcome reader response on the hole. If you think
you know its purpose, would like to guess its purpose, or have a
good suggestion what could have been done with it, send it in.
Back Home
THE BAKER COUNTY PRESS, Thursday January 11, 1979 Page Two
THE WAY IT WAS - Gene Barber
1924 Nursery Catalog - Part One
Dorsey Jordan of Glen St. Mary graciously lent this column a
Baker County treasure - a 1924 Glen Saint Mary Nurseries 82
page catalog and planting guide titled "Southern Planting Facts."
On the title page is information regarding the nurseries officers -
H. Harold Hume, president; H. E. Cornell, vice-president; A. B.
Johnson, treasurer; E. L. Steele, assistant treasurer;. C. R.
Stephens,: secretary; A. Tyler, assistant secretary; R. L. Wolfe,
assistant secretary; H. A. Turner, assistant secretary;) W. B.
Mathis, field manager.
In addition to listing the officers, "Southern Planting
Facts" informs the reader that Glen Saint Mary is the headquarters of the general nurseries
and that the citrus nurseries were located at Winter Haven in Polk
County. Also, we learn that the nurseries were established in
1882 and incorporated in 1907.
Under "Terms of Business", the prospective customer learned
that the nurseries' main office was equipped with a long-distance telephone and Western
Union telegraph. "We do not care to ship orders amounting to less
than $2" was the company's statement on minimum orders.
The office folks also discouraged "badly assorted orders", C.O.D.,
and the use of any form of ordering other than their printed
sheets.
Rather quaint today, but not a bad idea at all, was the company's
obliging customer relationships and offers. Customers would not
only be conducted through the nurseries but met at the station.
Substitutions (and, boy, this is rare today) were not made. The
buyer was given the benefit of the doubt in just about everything,
and all stock was securely labeled.
Glen Saint Mary Nurseries, at the writing in 1923, had been the
world's largest producer of citrus trees for several years. They
possessed the world's most extensive collection of citrus fruits,
and had exhibited 83 varieties of their own growing at the 1913
meeting of the American Pomological Society in Washington, D.
C. Their "good" varieties of citrus were budded onto root
stocks of rough lemon, sour orange, and Citrus trifoliata for
hardiness (once in a while, one still comes across the thorny,
almost bizarre appearing C. trifoliata in hammock land near the
four old Baker County nurseries.
Special treatment was given to the Lue Gim Gong orange, a fruit
created by, and named for, Deland's Chinese horticulturist.
Although the name is seldom heard now outside old-time citrus
growers' conversations, it was a sensation in the early days of this
century. It seemed the perfect sweet orange for north and
central Florida. It was hardy in winter, late fruiting, and almost
free from premature dropping. The nurseries offered it to the
public in August of 1911 and were proud to report that it
was the first new variety of orange ever awarded the prestigious Wilder Silver Medal of the
American Pomological Society.
The catalog's writer, probably Dr. J. Harold "Daddy" Hume,
gave a short paragraph to the Washington Navel orange. While
conceding it to be, "in many ways...the most remarkable
orange grown today," the writer suggested Florida's growers
should not be interested in it, "because it would not yield
enough fruit to pay for planting it." Since then, maybe due to
improved citrus farming practices, the Navel has become
one of our state's leading oranges, coming in early and
lasting well into winter.
THE BAKER COUNTY PRESS, Thursday January 18, 1979 Page Two
THE WAY IT WAS - Gene Barber
1924 Nursery Catalog - Part Two
A nice little history of the pomelo is given, the calomondin
(pronounced "kahl-ah-mun'-dee by most locals) and limequat
introduced, and advice is given on packing foliage with kumquats for
shipping (makes the basket pretty and makes a larger bulk). Even
before 1923, kumquats had gone for as high as $10 per bushel up
north, so claimed the catalog text.
Give up? Don't know what a pomelo is?. Check it out in your
dictionary. Hint: it's yellow, acidy, squirts, grows in clusters
like grapes, and was eventually renamed by the ad-men to give it
a new start. If its sales ever start to lag, watch the citrus industry
re-introduce it by its old name "pomelo."
Of interest is the statement regarding lemon production land -
"a number of years ago, before the newer sections of Florida were
opened up..." Remember, most of our readers were born, and
many all-grown up when this sentence was written about the
catalog's author's memory of opening up parts of wild Florida.
Now, just a generation later, one cannot find enough bare dirt
between mobile home villages in south Florida to plant one lemon
tree (how time and wilderness do march on...and away.)
The pecan was given a strong second place in the "Southern
Planting Facts." In 1923 it stated, "in recent years the Pecan has
become a very important nut, particularly, in the Southern
States." The varieties offered by the nurseries were Curtis,
Frotscher, Schley, Stuart, Moneymaker, and Success. The writer of
this column, while not in the same class of style and knowledge as
the author of the nursery catalog, will have to disagree on one
statement regarding the Moneymaker pecan - "cracking easily."
Much of our more colorful vocabulary was added while trying to shell the dern things for
cooking purposes.
A number of peaches, persimmons and plums which had been
developed at the Glen Saint Mary Nurseries were listed including
the delicious Excelsior plum (originated by Mr. G. L. Taber,
Sr., in 1887.) Also listed were Mr. W. M. "Ferdie" Ventling's new
strawberry "Glen Saint Mary" (created 1916), and an unnamed
employee's pomgranate "Rhodie" (we wonder if it was
Uncle Aneder Townsend who was quite an amateur horticulturist
and the name honored his wife Aunt Rhodie.)
Some of the prices were no cheeper in '24 than now (a few
even higher), several native plants were offered for sale, much
valuable information on landscaping and plant care was
included, the photo illustrations superb (several colored), and,
all-in-all, pleasant and nostalgic perusing.
Memorium
This column notes with regret the passing of Baker County's
genealogist and a personal friend - Mrs. Loyce Knabb Coleman. An
accomplished genealogist long before it became fashionable, an
appreciator of Baker County's history, authoress,
philanthropist, a business person, and civic minded, Mrs. Coleman
was greatly responsible for and an inspiration in beginning this
column. Much of the information contained in these articles is due
to the courtesy of Mrs. Coleman.
Back Home
THE BAKER COUNTY PRESS, Thursday January 25, 1979 Page Two
THE WAY IT WAS - Gene Barber
Some Notes On 'Lightered' - Part one
Ask any genuine Cracker what thoughts and activities are
brought to mind by the first drops in temperature and he is likely to
answer, "cane grinding, buck hunting, hog killing and picking
up pecans," and not necessarily in that order since buck-hunting
usually takes precedence. With today's high cost of fuel some of
us can add another activity to our Crackers' fall list of things to do -
lightered knot gathering.
Not exactly fun, it was still an occasion for some light-heartedness as the entire family, breaths
steaming in the crisp afternoon air, spread across the woods
discovering the black distorted chunks of fuel. In 1979 as one
remembers the past month's heating bill, the project loses even
more of its chore aspect.
What lightered is and how it got to be that way isn't altogether
clear in this writer's mind but he does know that its composition is
pine heartwood (trunk, limbs and roots), is almost always possessed
of a nasty charred exterior (product of fast traveling woods
fires), is heavy (all the light sapwood has long been rotted or
burned away), is always located far from the hauling vehicle, and
often defies being split with the sharpest of axes wielded by the
most determined of ax-wielders.
Once ubiquitous throughout and unique to the lower southeast
lightered is now rare and is not being renewed. For a pine tree to
attain the size necessary to create lasting heartwood, it had to live
long and grow slowly. Much of the lightered still being picked up
in Baker County woods today came from virgin forests, old
when the first white settlers came in back in the 1830's. Some of
those knots you toss into your fireplace were buried in the sand
maybe 5 to 10 thousand years ago.
Often, the softer sapwood was burned away by the frequent
galloping woodsfires (before Smokey Bear's campaign, instituted by timber companies,
stopped an important natural ecological phenomenon in pine
forests.) The pine pitch (locally called gum, rosin, or tar) was
trapped inside the cauterized shell there to crystalize for several
to several hundred years. Free of excess moisture by being baked
by woods fires and buried away from air by that strange action
which eventually swallows up anything left lying on the earth's
surface in areas such as Baker County, the wood remained for
flood washing action or pioneer land clearing to bring it up as fat
lightered for Cracker fireplaces.
One of the beautiful properties of lightered is that once split or
even slightly splintered it will usually burn regardless of how
wet it or the conditions are. Fetch up a knot from the bottom of a
water-filled stump hole, whack it with a knife or even with another
knot til its charred shell is broken, strike fire to it, and, lo, fire.
Lightered's secondary and much welcomed characteristic is
the indescribable heat its flame gives off. We don't wish to take
issue with the wood fire experts who tell us that flames are not the
effective source of heat that coals are, but we fear they have never
backed up to a lightered fire. It can make chairs begin sliding
back and a tin roof commence to pop. "Hell's hotter'n a lightered
fahr," often thundered Elder B. R. Dinkins, Sr., from the 19th
century Primitive Baptist pulpits.
A cup of lightered smut (known as soot to some, but when it
comes from lightered and is produced in Baker County it is
smut) from the fireplace vigorously boiled in a quart of water made
a tolerably good ink for the pioneers and it did not fade in the
manner of berry ink. A little gum arabic or sugar added to the ink
prevented it from smearing, but smearing didn't matter - the
roaches then ate it.
Many a vain pioneer gentleman darkened and shaped his
mustache with lightered smut, and backwoods belles used it as
eye makeup and to cover tell-tale gray. History has left to our
imagination the results of sultry summer heat or hanky-panky on
those home-made lightered cosmetics.
THE BAKER COUNTY PRESS, Thursday February 1, 1979 Page Two
THE WAY IT WAS - Gene Barber
Some Notes On 'Lightered' - Part Two
From his youth the writer remembers a few of the names
given to various types of lightered by the older Crackers. The
"knot" was the thickened junction of a limb or root with the
main trunk, and the regular knot almost always was shaped like a
huge chicken drumstick (convienient handle for toting). The
"rosebud" or "rosehead" knot was a limb section from a very
large tree and having a greatly enlarged end with an intricate
pattern of rings and whorls, not unlike a giant sculptured wooden
rose (if you find one of these, hide it - it is extremely rare).
The "hat tree" or "pole" is from a smaller tree. Slender,
smooth, and with short pointed or broken-off limbs, this piece fits its
descriptive name well. A "crook" was simply that; a section of
ill-formed tree or root or limb with a section of trunk still
attached. A "snake" knot was a grotesque twisted piece of
lightered that could pass, without much imagination, for a short
length of arthritic boa constrictor.
We wish we could remember if those beautiful torch shaped,
spiraling knots had names. Even more, we wish we had saved a
couple. In the art world we've judged wood sculpture much less
well done and less sophisticated in design.
Of even more concern to Crackers than how lightered was
formed is the origin of its name. Of course the first thing done in a
group discussion of lightered is to run for a dictionary. The second is
to feverishly search hoping to add Webster's authority to our
respective theories, and then wilt upon discovering the word never
made it between those hallowed covers.
Of course, you won't find it there. Many folks out there in the
land of dictionary-compiling are relatively deprived and ignorant
of such information.
One of the silliest etymologies we've ever read is that lightered
is wood that has been struck by lightning. While we won't deny
that lightning-struck wood might pop and spark when a'flame, we
cannot accept the story that lightning bolts create lightered.
Another, even less intelligent theory is that because this
particular wood burns so well in any weather (which it does), it
was used in olden times as torches or "light wood". No
doubt about it, lightered puts out a mighty handsome flame, and we
accept the name "light wood", but we know that once a stick of
highly flammable lightered gets a'fire, only a fool would hold it.
In summer (forget it in summer) every piece comes long enough to use it as a torch.
Anyone knowing the kindling, or lighting, power of lightered
and having as little understanding of old Cracker English language
usage realizes in a thrice the derivation of the name. The term
"light wood" shortened by olden days Crackers into "light 'ood"
was eventually and easily evolved into "light 'erd" by those "R"
sound-loving folk. (see- THE CRACKERS - Part 4 "THE
CRACKER SPEECH BEGINS", Baker County Press, Sept. 29,
1977)
For our city-bred residents and those late from the northern
provinces we might add a few words regarding the gathering of
lightered (most often referred to as "picking up", even if most has
to be dug or chopped free of sand, and muck).
In addition to getting one out into the fresh air and away from
TV's inanities the task is not unlike pioneering and is fraught
with dangers. First, there is the possibility that the owner of the
land from whom you are stealing the knots will, as was this writer's
misfortune, threaten you with arrest or a shotgun. Every second
piece of lightered has its own resident black widow spider.
Every third chunk is home to thousands of easily irritated bull ants or equipped with a nasty tempered
coral snake. In fact, it's sometimes quite shocking even in
winter to find out you've brought in one of the cold-numbed little
fellows and once in the flame he becomes lively.
Never, never pick up lightered knots during dusk, especially in a
pasture in which cows are kept. In dim light smutty knots and cow
droppings have a weirdly similar shape.
Your grandkids very likely will not see a lightered knot, never
have the backs of their britches scorched by a lightered flame, not
be spellbound as the sizzilng fat wood spews flame and turns blue.
So what? Well, this column thinks the world will be a little poorer as
another of our natural resources and bits of heritage run out. Ask
the poor man dependent on a fireplace or wood heater.
Lightered can be a renewable, but slowly so, resource. Every
land owner can let a few acres remain forever without cutting;
controlled burning (so necessary for the creation and balance of
pine barrens) can be allowed and encouraged by the proper
authorities; and after all of us are gone to our reward (or either to
that great lightered fire below) posterity can be cheaply and
effectively keeping things warm here.
Back Home
THURSDAY FEBRUARY 1, 1979
Barber House Is Vandalized
Police have implicated three youths ages nine through 12 in the
weekend vandalism spree that caused at least $7000 damage to the
contents and fixtures of the historic Barber House off S228 south of
Macclenny, which had among other things been utilized as a
temporary county museum.
Local historian and family member Gene Barber predicted the
damage estimate would rise as inventory of priceless antiques and
artifacts was completed. Barber, who also conducted art classes in
a portion of the stately two story structure, said over $1000 was lost
in destroyed art work and supplies. Antiques belonging both to the
family and others who had donated them for the eventual
museum were damaged at a loss said to be in excess of $3000. Only
one of the wood frame windows in the house was left intact, all shot
out with what police said was a pellet gun. Obscenities were
painted on walls.
Heirlooms including a gold watch and a portrait of Rowe and
Pearl Barber, one time inhabitants of the house, were used for
targets and damaged beyond repair. A glass display case
containing old copies of The Baker County Standard and The Baker
County Press was destroyed and paint dumped on the papers and
other records. Barber's research file was rifled and he feared total
destruction of the first manuscript of the upcoming book on Baker
County history.
The Sheriff's Department says several more youths may have
been involved in the vandalism which took place sometime
Saturday afternoon, and is continuing the investigation. Barber
came on the destruction during a routine check of the premises on
Barber Road about 5:00 p.m. and was able to give police a break in
the case as he saw two of the youths running from the scene.
The house is among the most historic in the county, having
hosted notables like the young Billy Graham and three Florida
governors. Constructed by C. F. Barber in 1889, it is close to the
original homesite built by Arch Barber in 1829, and served as
headquarters of the old Barber Nursery. Six generations of the
family have at one time or another lived there.
The case will be handled by Juvenile authorities.
Back Home
THE BAKER COUNTY PRESS, Thursday February 8, 1979 Page Two
THE WAY IT WAS - Gene Barber
The Saga Of George Reynolds
In the early 19th century England was not an altogether
happy place for working folk. The industrial Revolution kept women
and children laboring in dark factories from before sun-up to
well after sundown. Violence and hunger were part of the common
man's daily existence. Kidnapping children for, and bonding
them out to, greedy taskmasters was not rare. Shanghaiing men
and mere lads to serve on sailing ships was not unusual.
In 1845 an 8 year old boy was stolen from the waterfront of
Liverpool, probably as he returned from work after dark, and
carried to the high seas where he involuntarily served as a deck
hand and cabin boy for five years. He sailed the world until one day
in Charleston harbor, South Carolina, 14 year old George
Winston Reynolds jumped ship. He was through wandering
against his will and he was decidedly set against taking any
more orders.
Young Reynolds made his way south to Camden County,
Georgia. It would have been easy for the lad to have come out of
hiding after his former ship was out of harbor and hail coastal
vessels down port by port, or he might have immediately joined
one of the southward-bound settler trains for Traders Hill.
George Reynolds' biographer states he drew a piece of land in
southern Camden County (lot nr. 353) in one of Georgia's last land
lotteries shortly after coming to that state.
That the 14 year old Reynolds could convince authorities that he
was of age for the land lottery and was soon able to buy 351, 352 and
354 about 4 1/2 miles south of the present Moniac would make one
believe that the youth was ambitious and industrious. The
lad was also precocious in other ways - at age 14 he married the
daughter of one of the area's big land owners and was a father at
15.
His wife Martha was a daughter of Abel "Abe" and Caroline
Yarborough Cowart and was born in 1838. Their children were John
(born 1852 and married Amy Canaday); Elizabeth (born, 1855
and married James L., son of Riley and Sarah Leigh Johns);
Alice (born 1859 and married William Hardy Johns, brother of
James L.); George, Jr. (born 1863 and married Lillie Virginia,
daughter of John and Sarah Howell Canaday); Victoria (born
1866 and married Shadrick M. Mills); Thomas Abel (born 1867
and married Aurelia, daughter of W. H. and Henrietta Dowling
Stone); Lewis (born 1869 and married Elizabeth Stephens,
daughter of Eliza); and James (born 1870 and married, first,
Alice Johns and, second, Henrietta Yarborough).
When the call came from the Confederacy during its war with
the Union, George Reynolds chose to not respond. He leaned
strongly toward the Whig Party in politics, continued to farm, and to
rear his family. However, the Georgia Governor and the Adjutant General sent-out a general
order placing every available male of the state, including
Reynolds, in uniform.
In the spring of 1862 Mr. Reynolds was mustered into
Company B, 11th Battalion, Georgia Militia. Toward the end
of the gruesome affair, Mr. Reynolds slipped home to care for
his wife and four small children. There are three stories regarding
his "return" to service - he voluntarily turned himself in at
Lake City, Florida; or he answered Finegan's call to the big
battle at Olustee and was recognized and imprisoned; or he
was reported by neighbors and taken to the Lake City prison in
chains. Whichever tale one chooses, only one ending follows -
Pvt. Reynolds was scheduled for a Confederate firing squad because
of desertion when the war ended.
George Reynolds returned to his farm on the Saint Marys River
and enjoyed relative prosperity. In addition to farming and rearing
more kids he operated a general mercantile business, cotton gin,
grist mill, and saw mill. He entered politics as a Democrat
and served on the Charlton County Board of Commissioners
and as a Representative to the Georgia State Assembly.
He rafted goods down the Saint Marys River (when it was high
enough) and shipped other products by rail via Darbyville
(old McClenny). To facilitate his sawmill enterprise he constructed
a bridge across the Saint Marys.
Although the present location about 50 feet south of the original
and is the third structure in about one hundred years it is still
referred to as the "Reynold Bridge."
A Primitive Baptist in his faith Mr. Reynolds often crossed his
bridge to worship at the nearby North Prong Mt. Zion Church.
When his wife Martha died in 1894 he crossed the bridge to
place her body in the North Prong Cemetery.
Mr. Reynolds remarried to Miss Julia Johns (she had been
nursing his late wife through her illness), and soon moved with him
to the Florida side to a farm just south of Baxter known as the
Gowens (or Givens) place. There George Winston Reynolds died in
1905.
Mr. Reynolds was a small man, 5 feet and 6 inches in height and
never weighed more than 145 pounds. He was ruddy of complexion, retained much of his
British accent, and was firm in all his convictions. To this columns
knowledge this English-born pioneer was the only settler in the
area who had been shanghaied, stood before a firing squad; and
lived to become a prosperous man and a paragon of a faith in his
community. We do hope the "Reynolds Bridge" will stand for
a long time, honoring one of our most unique citizens.
Much thanks to Mr. T. Reynolds of Jacksonville for his
information and assistance producing this article.
Back Home
THE BAKER COUNTY PRESS, Thursday February 15, 1979 Page Two
THE WAY IT WAS - Gene Barber
Samuel Spearing - Slave to Lawmaker
There once existed in the Christian nation of the United
States a strange and incongruous institution - slavery, the actual
ownership of a human by another.
Samuel Spearing was born a slave. He was owned before his
natal day. The date and place of his birth has been lost in history
but he believed the year to have been in the early 1800's and the
place somewhere in South Carolina or Georgia.
His mind was quick and open and by the time he was placed on
the sales block as a young man he already had a knowledge of the
rudiments of reading and numbers. These skills, combined with
a fine healthy body brought his seller the premium price in 1840
of $1,800.
Samuel's new master was Elisha Green of Columbia County,
Florida. The Green plantation was only 10 years old and showing the
ravages of the 2nd Seminole War (which was, in fact, not concluded
at the time of the purchase of Mr. Spearing).
The two, black and white, rebuilt the farm, protected it
against scattered Indian attacks, and in the midst of adversities
and sweat, entered into a relationship deeper than master and
slave. They became friends. Mr. Spearing later wrote of their
"friendship" which sprung up between master and servant,
which lasted until death came between them."
At night when the chores were done, Sam sat with the Green
children and learned from his mistress the intricacies of the
English language, the history of the Greeks and Romans, the
humor and beauty of Shakespeare, and the politics of the
young American nation. The young slave became quite
literate, often writing letters for his busy master and keeping the
plantation books.
There were no separate facilities in the Green household. Sam
was a member of the family, and the second slave bought by Mr.
Green was Sam's choice and bride. Sam's physical labor was
over as soon as Mr. Green had increased the slave numbers and
elevated Sam to "Boss Slave."
Sam was not reluctant to leave this bondage status, but he
regretted having to part with the Greens. But when the Civil War
was over, the Greens, once rich, could not afford to pay the
liberated Blacks to remain on the farm. The illiterate Negroes
wandered into Lake City, Gainesville, and Jacksonville hoping for
a contract to work, but the Freedmen's Bureau discovered
Samuel Spearing and had another job for him.
Samuel Spearing was nominated by the Republican Party as
Duval County's representative to the Florida State Assembly. The
articulate ex-slave won the confidence of independent and conservative Republicans and was
even popular with many Democrats and ex-Confederates.
In 1874 Spearing was elected to the Florida Senate, but had to
struggle against the radical Republicans who thought he was too
friendly with the former Confederates. The more the Liberty
Billings (he shouted to crowds of Blacks, "Jesus Christ was a
Republican!") fraction opposed him the more support he elicited
from what newspapers called "respectable" Democrats.
Among Samuel Spearing's political friends were James M.
Baker, Democrat for whom Baker County is named; Samuel N.
Williams, politician in Duval and Baker Counties (both Baker and
Williams were one-time members of the railroad's board of
directors); John Wallace, Black politician and historian; and William Bloxham, conservative
Democrat and later governor of Florida.
In 1877 the military withdrew from Florida and thus ended the
Republicans' protected favored position. Most ex-Confederates
were returned their voting privileges and soon the Blacks in
office were being counted out even the enlightened and sincere
Blacks like Samuel Spearing.
While Mr. Spearing was still in office he was called on to perform
"the last act of love and devotion which could be shown this side of
eternity." The telegraph summoned him and another fellow
ex-slave to go to Sanderson where they would fulflil a promise made
to their old master - to assist at his burial.
Mr. Spearing was no longer a slave. He was a part of, in the
1870's, that turn of events sung about by the other former slaves -
"the bottom rail's on the top." He did not have to return to
Sanderson for any reason but for bonds of friendship. But Samuel
Spearing often said he was "a man first, a Christian second, an
American third, a Baptist fourth, and, oh yes, I'm a Black man
too."
He was eventually damned by much of the white population as a
Black Republican and cursed by many of the Blacks as a toad for
the whites. But we believe Samuel Spearing had little to be
sorry for. As he quoted over his old master's grave from his
favorite book, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant..."
Back Home
THE BAKER COUNTY PRESS, Thursday February 22, 1979 Page Two
THE WAY IT WAS - Gene Barber
The Big Snow
The winter of 1898 and '99 was an eventful and history-changing season in Baker County and environs. Arriving on the heels of
a devastating hurricane fall, that winter arrived in full fury. The
citrus industry of north Florida was brought to an abrupt close
(although a few hardy souls tried oranges in the county until about
1910). It was reported that a couple of people died in the bitter
cold.
It was the year of the big snow in the Georgia Bend. The photos,
courtesy of Mr. Fred B. Reynolds of Jacksonville, show about 2
inches of the white stuff in downtown Moniac. The sawmill
was that of the Dyal and Upchurch Company, and when it
left town in 1907 Moniac began its slow but certain demise. None of
the people can be identified.
Note cwm: Three photos omitted here.
Back Home
THE BAKER COUNTY PRESS, Thursday March 1, 1979 Page Two
THE WAY IT WAS - Gene Barber
Growth And Progress? - Part One
We recently experienced an incident that taught us two great
lessons. First, the incident: a young couple from, Mandarin
came to McClenny to talk-over some art and history topics with
the writer of this column, not knowing his address but feeling
secure in the belief that anyone should know everyone in a small
rural town. They inquired of nine people (three within one-quarter
mile of the writer's home), were sent to north of Glen Saint Mary,
were informed that of the three Gene Barbers living in the county
(we'd like to meet the other two) not one was an artist, and they
were also informed that nobody by that name was a resident of
Baker County although a few Barbers used to live here.
The lessons learned were (1) humility (having a weekly article
in the BCP does not a Drew Pearson make) and (2) McClenny
and Baker County have grown.
It all seems a far cry from the early sixties when some of us
locals were often peeved by the remark, "you people are so d---
selfish; you won't sell a foot of land so that you can grow and
prosper." Then in the mid sixties a little land on I-10 was sold to a
couple of outsiders named Stuckey's and Gulf Oil and within six
months hand-lettered "for sale" signs were sprouting all along the
Interstate highway, in front yards, and in scattered cane
patches. Every third person attended real estate school and, as
the late Uncle John Red Lauramore once put it, "they wudn't
enough dirt left to plant a patch a' collards.
But for those of you old timers and even later-arrivers who are
beginning to panic and feel crowded, take heart - this is but
one of several such growth spurts. We've survived each and have
even benefited by some of them.
The area's first big growing period was from the late 1820's
through 1835. The Second Seminole War cut that one short. After
the war the Armed Occupation Act of 1842 opened former
Seminole Territory to settlers and the present Baker County lost
several families to the grasslands and hills of central and south
Florida.
A few new pioneers moved in during the 1850's but the growth
was negated by the continuing drain toward the south. Except for
temporarily taking away a large number of males the Civil War
had no perceptible effect on the population. In 1864 a Union
soldier wrote home that he had seen but one small field under
cultivation between Baldwin and Olustee. This column takes no
issue with the statement about sparse settlement but known facts
about the soldier's route and the settler's home land descriptions
prove he was either marching while asleep or was flat out
fibbing (we try to remember, however, that we Rebels were the
only biased chauvinistic ones during and after that great war).
Reconstruction (1866-1877) saw another shuffling and shifting
among the country's population. Many Crackers who had been
living in the area for 30 years or more picked up and left for
greener pastures, not only to south Florida but to Jacksonville
and back to Georgia. Into a county that was demoralized and almost
empty of white Southerners and native-born Blacks came scores of
Northerners and newly freed Blacks from the once richer states
to our north. The economy took an upswing with the almost exclusive
industries of turpentining and sawmilling.
Hardly had Reconstruction and its attendant evils of peonage
(hardly better than slavery) and graft exited than Florida felt its
first surge of land opportunists and sales booms. A Jacksonville
firm made up of a gentleman lately from Ohio and Indiana
teamed up with Carr B. McClenny at a little sawmill and turpentine
distillery town named Darbyville and there they platted out the city
of McClenny. The sales pitches brought in a great many mid-westerners and some New Englanders and it seemed that
McClenny was to rival the other "tropic" cities just quoting the
sales brochures) of Jacksonville and Saint Augustine. Glen St.
Mary was also platted out as a tourist resort and Margaretta was
given some attention, but, it was all brought to a close in the
summer of 1888 when the great yellow fever epidemic hit.
Baker County was almost emptied out again as the northern
survivors moved back home, southern residents moved to Jacksonville, and many local-born
Crackers joined their relatives in central and south Florida.
THE BAKER COUNTY PRESS, Thursday March 8, 1979 Page Two
THE WAY IT WAS - Gene Barber
Growth And Progress? - Part Two
After the disastrous yellow fever epidemic of 1888 Baker County
had to regroup and begin again. Some communities such as Margaretta and Cedar Creek no
longer existed except in memories. Glen Saint Mary never
regained its competitive status with Darbyville-McClenny. And
Sanderson, already losing ground to the towns of Glen Saint Mary
and McClenny since the late 1870's (everything was becoming
Jacksonville oriented and the westernmost towns couldn't
compete), lost its county seat importance in the late 1880's and
soon almost bit the dust.
From the Turner Cemetery section north of Glen Saint Mary
and northward things were picking up with a new influx of
Georgians from the southeastern counties of that state. After more
than a century of uninterrupted farming the land there was finally
wearing out and that, combined with a poor state of politics in our
sister state to the north, brought in new residents by the scores.
Business slowed down for a while along the original railroad
because of scandals within the rail company and thus the way was
opened for new rails to push through to pick up the old
business and to tap the wealth of forests in the north and south of
the county. The center of the county lost out greatly to the
Baxter area and the narrow strip of land running through the south
end of the Okefenokee once called both the Old Settler Train Trail
and the Yarborough Trail. New communities sprung up in the late
1880's and early 1890's along the new rails that were recently put
through the south east section of the county.
When the forests were depleted in the north and west of Baker
County the big sawmills at Baxter-Moniac and Olustee
folded and moved away. Many of the new white citizens they had
brought in moved away with them but most of the blacks remained
to farm and enter turpentining. It was said in the 1920's that a black
man signed away his birthright when he joined a turpentine
camp. However, a birthright didn't mean much to a man whose
belly was pinching almost beyond endurance. Almost no blacks
were left in the north end of the county from a once enormous
population.
Attention began to refocus on McClenny. The cut-over forests
there had regrown and were ready for another siege of sawmills, but this time it was small
outfits. A few new residents saw hundreds of denuded acreage and
figured things were right for promoting this section as a great
farming potential. The Baker County Standard, the Sentinel,
and neighboring newspapers preached farming and the
message caught with a few Northerners. Some came in and
tried cotton farming (much of McClenny east of College and
north of US 90 was a gigantic cotton field). Two silk farms,
complete with Japanese experts, were tried in McClenny, one
behind the present Baker County Press office and the other the site
of and east of the present courthouse. Olustee tried its
Pecan and Pony Farm.
Unfortunately, Baker County soil just didn't suit anything tried,
the products were too far away from their markets, the local labor
situation has never been cooperative around work, and most of the
business operators were anything but business operators.
Some brilliant young professional men believed in the
future and magic of McClenny and established their practices
there. In spite of a devastating hurricane season or two, severe
freezes, and a couple of rainless winters, McClenny grew from
about 1890 through the first World War at a comfortable and
almost rapid pace. It seemed as if the future of the little community
was assured, even though the other towns were floundering.
THE BAKER COUNTY PRESS, Thursday March 15, 1979 Page Two
THE WAY IT WAS - Gene Barber
Growth And Progress? - Part Three
From the 1890's through the first World War McClenny grew
in size while the remainder of the county lost in population. Newspapers sprang up overnight and
died almost as quickly. In 1909 McClenny had five doctors at one
time, almost one per every hundred residents. One of Florida's brilliant young attorneys,
Max Brown of Lake City located there. Mr. Brown had the distinction of being the first Floridian ever elected to the
presidency of prestigious Yale University.
McClenny's first masonry buildings were erected during
this period, few of which remain and it is hoped that they will be
considered worth saving during any downtown revitalization plans
for the city. A few more fashionable homes were constructed
including the fabulous Gasque house on the southeast corner of
present McClenny Avenue and 6th Street. It was considered a
showplace and model home for many other houses in the area.
World War I had little effect on the population of the county
although several young Baker men volunteered for service
"over there". But as soon as they came home some were infected
with the fever of brighter lights and they moved on. After all,
"how're you gonna keep 'em down on the farm after they've
seen Paree?"
One last attempt was made to sell Baker County during the big
Florida land boom of the twenties. Some very impressive subdivision
names still remain on maps from the last great promotion. One
former resident moved back from Sanford, bought up many acres,
lavished a fortune on advertising, threw a bodacious barbeque, sold
one piece of land (it was never paid for), and promptly went
broke.
Some Northern' folks bought land in the county sight-unseen.
During some research during the early 60's it was discovered that
many had continued to pay taxes but had never visited their Florida
dream home sites. A few became interested enough after being
contacted and questioned that they decided to come south and
view their land. Boy, were they surprised to learn that it would
take considerable draining to see their soil even if they could get
through the big timber companies' tracts to it.
About the only other effect the boom times of the Roaring
Twenties had on Baker County was to further drain off population
toward Miami and the newly opened farmlands around Okeechobee. Prohibition came in
nationally and THAT was nother story.
Briefly, Prohibition was an attempt to regulate morals by
legislation; admirable in theory and dumb in practice. Every since
mankind discovered that rotten grapes put them on a high he has
steadily drunk booze and other spirits, and, if the past is any
indication of the future, he will continue to do so. Backwoods
Baker Countians, themselves influenced by the conservative
Calvinistic doctrines of moderation rather than abstinence, took
to making the stuff wholesale for the big cities to the north and wild
Miami to their south.
The depression hit and although it did not make things
easier for Baker County it could hardly hurt a people who had
never known too much in the way of physical comfort and luxury.
"Nobody worth the salt in his grits ever went hungry", often
stated the older heads, "if, that is, he wasn't too sorry to try." No
cases of starvation were reported in the county and even the sorry
were taken care of by the few "have's". Unfortunately, many
believed their salvation lay in the cities and they sold out or just
simply forfeited their little farms and migrated to the fleshpots.
The Federal Government bought up scores of farms west of
Taylor and north of Olustee across the county line into Columbia and
established the Osceola National Forest. This was another great
idea, except for the few who had preferred to remain and were
forced out by the various means used by big government.
The forest was established for the use and enjoyment of the
people (that's you and me), but hardly had the ink dried on the
proclamation than Uncle Sam began to lease it out to the rich for
weekend cabins, hunting lodges, and timber and naval stores
production. Adding insult to injury ol' Unc also began flirting
with the phosphate industry in order to gouge out big holes in the
beautiful pine barrens. No argument with the phosphate
people but the forest was not established just for them to make
money from. What happened there was the omen for what we
have done with our growth, and change. Next week we'll see just
what we've done with it.
Pertinent Hlstorical Information?
Write: P.O. Box 523
Macclenny, Florida 32063
THE BAKER COUNTY PRESS, Thursday March 22, 1979 Page Two
THE WAY IT WAS - Gene Barber
Growth And Progress? - Final Installment
World War II had its effect on Baker County's population. Many
young folks were called into military service and several did
not come back, relocating in more lucrative areas up north or lying
beneath foreign dirt and seas.
The big post war boom took more away by droves. Jacksonville,
Miami and its environs, and points north, especially New
York City, were enriched by Cracker blood.
The population drain continued through the 1950's with hardly a
high school graduate remaining home. And for good reason: there
was nothing in the county to provide him with a decent living,
if a living at all. Farming was never a biggie in the county and
by the 50's it was dead except for a few little green farms. Turpentining had gone mechanized
and left the county. Lumbering petered out. Shine was a sometimes-type business (it also modified the population, many of the
males taking temporary vacations in Federal "colleges").
With the advent of the "Great Give-away Era" in the early to
mid '60's, the Federal Government saw to it that nobody who
didn't want to had to work. Subsistence checks were doled
out to deserving families (meaning those with a large voting
block). While the taxpayers scraped around the plastic
margarine tub the former "have-nots" were picking up real butter
(remember that stuff?) in their Continentals at the Commodities
Office. It was noised abroad that of all the give-away areas in the
world Baker County was the softest touch of all and the needy
(that's to be read "sorry, shiftless, -- and I don't work on
Saturday or any day touching it') flocked across the county line to
stand in the hand-out line.
The Kennedy period of Camelot introduced us to that family's
mainstay - Scotch whiskey. Nobody who was anybody who had
been previously thought of as deprived would have condescended to drink that foul brew
of the devil called moonshine and all jumped on bonded whiskey,
especially Scotch, and the shine industry died more from that than
from, all the "Revenoos" put together.
In the late 1950's we began to hear of a superhighway that
would take us from Jax Beach clear to San Diego in a matter of 3
to 4 days. Our local powers-that-be prepared us by advising us
that within a few years the great highway would be our salvation.
Folks would just pile out here from Jacksonville to play golf and
live. We wouldn't be able to handle our share of the travelers'
dollars passing through.
The Centennial of 1961 seemed to signal our last great concentrated effort as a county-community. In a couple of years
or so the predicted flow along I-10 began...the other way. Years
before Baker Square was ever on paper the buying public gravitated toward the chrome and
glass shopping centers of Jax. The late Jim Rowe's favorite
pastime was to park at the intersection of I-10 and its two
McClenny exits and count cars heading toward Jacksonville. It
was strangely ominous how each day his count steadily increased
(228 more than 121).
Downtown McClenny exhibited its first death rattles. Stores
began emptying. Businesses popped up and died almost as
quickly. And the population drain continued. Some folks began to
panic. Most, however, saw nothing nor did most care to see
anything...complacency blinds.
Back to Article nr. 1, a few parcels along I-10 were sold and
with the first taste of dollars in several years the rush was on.
The county Development Commission took out a few token ads
in the Jax Times-Union using the same old tired photos of our new
courthouse, the Saint Mary's River, golf course, and our newest
and most uninteresting school building. They could have saved
their money. With Duval County's school situation worsening, the Jacksonville consolidation woes and increased taxes,
and the introduction of hoodlumism via the new morality and
liberalism into the Jacksonville area, its population was going to
overflow into all us little rural counties surrounding the big city.
They came to escape taxes, demanded the same services (or
better) than those they had left, and wondered how come the big
tax mill will jump in their new home. The native born, slightly
bewildered with their share of their land sales handed them by
one of the new Baker County breed called "Realtors", immediatemly purchased a color TV, took
a trip to Disney World, and bought themselves a new plaything called a metalilc robin's egg
blue four wheel drive complete with brushed chrome dog box.
With all this progress we wonder why downtown McClenny
continued to die. How come good little family restaurants floundered while folks flocked to city
eateries costing much more and of much less quality, why local
lounges sometimes had troubles while 52 tags were lined up at the
Happy Jax on Lane Avenue, why locals carefully avoided our
modest but good art shows but didn't mind forking out young
fortunes on imported junk art at the so-called "hungry artists"
sales at the Thunderbird, why the community theater passed on
from lack of nourishment.
Sometime ago we noted a bit of philosophy scrawled on a fence
around a construction project - "progress is a four letter word."
Looking further, we expected to see something less than nice
added by the disgruntled graffiti person. His completing word was
"love".
We're not certain that the little observation ties in with our four
article report on "Growth and Progress?" but we think it
perhaps lets us close on an optimistic, less than sour note.
Back Home
THE BAKER COUNTY PRESS, Thursday March 29, 1979 Page Two
THE WAY IT WAS - Gene Barber
Immoral Behavior On The Creek Bank
Few weeks go by without re-teaching this writer two great
lessons - (1) people are basically rotten and (2) people are basically
good. Since the second lesson always rides in on the coat tails of
the first it seems to negate and refute the first.
Examples: on the 29th of January, almost all our records
and history collections were destroyed in a senseless orgy of
vandalism by some misguided kids (never brought to justice);
but, even before the clean-up began, offers to help and new
history material began to flow in.
Among these several salvaging angels was Lt. Col. Mace Harris
of Orange City down in Volusia County. Besides genealogical
material and historical narratives, Col. Harris offered a number of
little personal incidents that recalled days less complicated,
harder physically but easier mentally, more disciplined, and
always tempered with love and humor. It won't mean much to
anyone born after about 1955 or so. It'll seem quite tame and even
pointless to the County's more sophisticated pot heads, but in
those days kids spent more time in old-fashioned, deliciously
wicked behavior than being engaged in a day-long vandalization
of $10,000 worth of house, records and antiques.
Called "Mace's Immoral Behavior" we present our guest
writer's recollections of Baker County's past.
"One fine summer afternoon on a Sunday I and some cousins,
T. A. and Douglas Reynolds, Johnny Harris and some brothers
decided we would go a 'washin' down at the ford on Bluff Creek.
"We were all about 12-13 years old and of course had never heard
of bathing trunks. So we went the time honored way - plum naked.
We put our overalls on the bank and jumped in."
" Pretty soon here came a passel of young women from up
on the hill. They were Rhoden girls, daughters of Hardy I think.
These young women had on their every day calico dresses with a
safety pin run through the skirts for modesty's sake. They too did
not have any swim wear. When they came on the scene we boys
did not pay them any mind and kept on our own doings. The girls
also went about their way, and I am sure that the fact we were
unclothed did not worry them. The day ended Just fine."
Next morning I was out at the cowpen fending off the calves for
Grandma while she milked. Things did not seem to go as
usual. When she had done a 'milkin' she walked over to the
nearest peach tree and cut herself a fairly good switch. Now, if
Grandma wore a dress, she also wore an apron. In the pocket of
the apron she always carried a Barlow knife for many useful
purposes. So she was prepared for the cuttin' and pretty soon she
had me prepared for my cuttin'. She opened up with "Mace didn't
you go washin' yisterday a naked?" "Warn't there some
girls there?"
"I thought real fast and knew she had been told about it by
somebody who had gone through the ford while we were there and I
saw that I could not get out of the jam. But I knew that we had been
behavin' and I told her that we were there first. When the
wimmin arrived we warn't about to leave. She replied "well I have
got to teach you not to go washin' with girls when naked." With
that she gave me several cuts across the back of my legs with
the peach whip. She was about to get going real good when suddenly she broke out in a hard
fit of laughing. It was so amusing to her that she couldn't keep it up.
No boy ever had a grandma as lovin' as I did, may the good Lord
rest her sou1."
The Tom Harris and related families will hold a reunion on
Saturday the 7th of April at the Harris Homestead. This is now
the home of Mrs. Bertha Mae Harris in the middle part of the
county on the Big St. Marys.
Genealogy Needed
Col. Harris needs help from the current generations and back
through the 1890's for the following families: Crawford, Crews,
Dowling, Harris, Johns, Padgett, Prevatt, Raulerson, Sweat, Stone,
Thrift, Williams and Yarborough. It is Col Harris' intention to write
up these families, correcting older records and bringing them up into this century. Bible records, legal records and other data
greatly needed by Mace A. Harris, LTC (Ret) 930 Tappan
Circle, Orange City, Fla. 32763 Tel. 904-775-3489.
Back Home
THE BAKER COUNTY PRESS, Thursday April 5, 1979 Page Two
THE WAY IT WAS - Gene Barber
Black Pioneers - The Indian Fighter And The Wood Chopper
The first known Black to become a permanent resident of
the Baker County area was named Jason (slave parents were usually
not privileged to name their own children and the white owners
liked to give the babies classical and Biblical appellations). He was
purchased in Saint Augustine in the late summer of 1829 and his
"papers" stated that he was born on Alimicani Island, part of the
Zephaniah Kingsley slave property.
Jason was powerful, witty, sometimes a little too independent for his master (the
term used to be "biggity"), and very black. He quickly climbed
through the shackled ranks to gain his master's attention and
never lost his position as boss slave.
As boss slave Jason was permitted to live in the "big
house" and possess his own firearm. He is credited with often
saving his plantation from Indian attackers while his master was
away. It was reported that he and his mistress were much better
shots than the master. He also prevented his Black charges from
succumbing to the Seminoles' entreaties that they run away and
join them. His manner of influence and methods of restraint
were frequently harsh and violent and did not endear him to his
fellow slaves.
It is small wonder that a daughter of his master risked her
life to save his from an attacking Indian. The red man entered the
kitchen through the scuttle hole and was about to bury his hatchet
in Jason's skull when the younq girl tossed a kettle of burning
grease on the Indian, seriously burning her hands - not to
mention what it did to the Indian. As the Indian writhed across the
floor in pain she stuck a flaming stick to him and burned him to
death.
Jason's first mistress died in the mid 1850's and he did not take
to the new lady brought to the plantation house. Neither did he
approve of the unmarried status of his master and new mistress.
The good relation built up between slave and master was soon
destroyed as the master attempted to beat obedience and
devotion into the resentful black man.
For a man who had never known the receiving end of a
beating, Jason endured until the early spring of 1864. When the
Union Army neared Baker County he escaped his bondage. Morale
and discipline broke down on the plantation and the former master
accused Jason of being an ingrate.
There was a story that in the late 1880's an elderly, large-framed Negro came to McClenny
and spent a few days camped near Dick White Branch on the present
golf course. He poked around the soil, raked a few leaves off a small
patch of ground, and brought some wild flowers to that cleaned
spot. When asked by some of the old-timers what his business was
there, he answered, "Just looking for a little bit of happiness that
once stood on this ground...just a little bit of happiness."
-------------
Uncle Willis Rawls was fondly remembered as a "slavery days"
Baker County Black. He probably never touched a weapon as did
Jason nor was he erudite as was Senator Samuel Spearing but he
was the archtype slave, laboring until death set him free long after
the Emancipation Proclamation.
In 1877 the first list of county taxpayers since 1861 was made up
and Mr. Rawls was listed as paying 50 cents each to the state
and to the county. To make a meager living Uncle Willis went
from house to house in the McClenny area chopping firewood.
As he reached advanced age, Uncle Willis was taken by former
Confederate Rob Rowe south of McClenny. His own little house
was built by Mr. Rowe and he was given a small dole each week for
his needs.
Mr. Rawls reckoned he was in his 90's or beyond, his eyes were
getting dim, and he asked Mr. Rowe to assure him of his burial
wishes. He wanted to be taken to the little slave cemetery on the
northwest side of McClenny to rest with the "old time people."
In 1898 Mr. Rawls died and Mr. Rowe took the frail black body the
last mile in a wagon to the deserted slave cemetery. At the
same time a Baker County born Confederate Veteran died in
Orange County and he had also requested to be buried in the
same cemetery near his former home. Thus, during the same
week a former slave and a former champion of slavery were united
in that very final state which has no time or place for prejudices
and chips on the shoulder.
Today, a street, golf course, and a house sit on top of them
both as well as on the little piece of ground cleared out by the black
stranger.
Back Home
THE BAKER COUNTY PRESS, Thursday April 12, 1979 Page Two
THE WAY IT WAS - Gene Barber
Some Tips On Genealogy
This column receives many questions of a genealogical nature
and we usually cannot supply adequate answers. We will try to
be of help, albeit tardily, providing you (1) enclose a self-addressed and stamped envelope,
(2) give us as much data as you can on the subject, (3) be willing
to exchange information with this column, and (4) offer the same
courtesies to the person(s) we might refer you to.
Americans are great on fads. Right after streaking and bottle
collecting died out we jumped into genealogy and CB's. Nothing
against fads...anything beats working for a living and not
spending money.
On the subject of genealogy, if you're going to be a do-it-your-selfer, at least do it right. A very
reasonable membership fee in one of the area's two groups
involved in the study will be of great assistance - Southeastern
Genealogists Exchange, 2525 Oak Street, Jacksonville and Jacksonville Genealogical Society,
P.O. Box 7076, Jacksonville. The local LDS Church has occasional
classes on the subject; a call to its office will provide information.
Your writer knows all three institutions are quality programs
because he has participated in them himself.
The Sunday Florida Times-Union offers a genealogical
column with a question and answer section written by the
multi-talented LaViece Moore Smallwood. Mrs. Smallwood, a
former classmate of this writer, conducts exhaustive research into
genealogy methods and resources.
More for the do-it-yourselfers later, but, now, the great rip-off.
We advise you folks to stop wasting your money on mail-order
coats-of-arms. You can, of course, hang any such you wish but you
have no moral right to display as your own a coat-of-arms not
granted to a direct ancestor. If you wish you may devise and
design your own and have it registered and it will be proper
and ethical to do so.
Also, beware of bargain mail-order genealogies. Ancestor
searching is always time consuming and is often expensive
even by the experts, and there can be no bargains in it. Mail-order genealogies are nothing
more, even at the best, than one ancestral line (always illustrious,
of course) from about the late 1400's to "the first of that line to
arrive in America."
From the first to land on these shores to you is a long, complicated way and it is doubtful the
subject of the mail-order genealogy is even remotely related to
you. These compilations, as well as the mail-order coats-of-arms,
are resplendent with mayors of London, keepers of the king's
hunting preserves, Louis IX's right hand man; daring sea
pirates who were later pardoned and knighted by the queen, etc.
Folks, let's face it...somebody back then had to be common and
un-illustrious (more specifically, your ancestors and mine).
And be careful of the nice letter you receive from Cousin Some-One-You've-Never-Heard-Of-In-California announcing the publication of the official history of
your family surname. After her greeting is usually a convincing
run-down on the first to enter your particular state and a list of
his children (always called "issue") with their down-home
type names. If you live in one of the southern states you can rest
assured ol' Cousin What's-Her-Name will emphasize the family's
devotion to the Confederacy. Just to be on the safe side there will
always be included one branch who arrived on the Mayflower
(history's most crowded vessel; greater even than Noah's ark).
And, Just to be democratic, one ancestor's brother was a rebellious sort who "went west" or
"married an Indian."
And when a genealogy starts out with, "there were four
brothers. One went north, one went west, one came south, and
one stayed there," the writer of this column immediately closes
the book. He just cannot believe we all started out over on this side
of the big water with four brothers who were so hung up on the four
points of the compass.
Back Home
THE BAKER COUNTY PRESS, Thursday April 19, 1979 Page Two
THE WAY IT WAS - Gene Barber
History Of County Newspapers
Americans have always been great on newspapers. Most folks
subscribe to a news sheet or regularly buy one because to not
do so would be unthinkable and un-American (like not watching
Mork and Mindy, not eating at McDonald's, not wearing Jogging
costumes when shopping).
Baker Countians have not been exceptions to the rule. According
to the late Mr. Tate Powell, Sr., a small paper was being published
at Sanderson as soon as the county was formed in 1861. The
life expectancy of a newspaper in a county with a population of less
than 500 including perhaps 25 literates, could not have been
very good. It must have folded during the Civil War and, except
for a reporter traveling with the Federal troops in February of
1864, that was the end of newspapering in the county until
ex-Confederate Charles A. Findley (Finley) of Lake City established the Star at Sanderson in
1866.
One would surmise that Capt. Findley's move to Darbyville-McClenny in the mid 1870's
indicated his foresightedness and business acumen, seeing as how
many of the county residents were agitating for the county seat
removal to that town from Sanderson. The rumored truth of the
matter is that the editor's "circulation" in the Sanderson area
had little to do with his newspaper and that he ran afoul of several
fathers of unwed mothers-to-be. Capt. Findley discreetly removed
himself from the sticky scene and re-established the Star at Darbyville-McClenny.
The news void in Sanderson was filled by a one-fold sheet
called the Press owned and edited by a Baptist preacher, school
teacher, and singing master named Professor Carr. When a
local businessman questioned one of the Baptist parishioners about
the Professor's many business pursuits, the parishioner is reported to have replied, "he might
as well...he can't preach."
Professor Carr either passed on to that great printing press in
the sky or sold out to a Columbia County native named Mott
Howard. Mr. Howard had many family ties in the Baker County
neighborhood and was possessed of a Midas' touch. His sheet
prospered until the removal of the county seat in 1886. The Press
was printed in McClenny for a short while until Mr. Howard
retired. Capt. Findley soon ceased publication of the Star and
moved to the greener pastures (and, we might add, safer) of
Gainesville. A man named Matthews moved into McClenny soon
after the county seat change and published the Sentinel until the
late 1800's.
Mr. C. D. Allen, lately from up North, published the McClenny
Standard around the turn of the century. He and his mother lived
in the John O. Thompson house on Florida Avenue (across from
the parking lot of the present post office). His print shop was in the
upper story of a house around the corner on College Street.
In the early years of this century a young veteran of the
Spanish-American War came to McClenny looking for opportunities. Tate Powell was a handsome, olive-complexioned native
of Bradford County, of Welsh ancestry and of old and illustrious
North Carolina stock. He was, according to his contemporaries,
rather bold, persistent, witty and shrewd.
Young Mr. Powell took a shine to the printing business and
stated that he wanted to buy the McClenny Standard. He asked
around town for a backer and all replies were, "see Charley
Barber." The two talked with Mr. Allen who asked for $1,000 for his
newspaper. Before the afternoon was over Mr. Powell had Mr.
Allen's price cut in half. Then Mr. Powell and Mr. Barber motored
into Jacksonville to request a loan of $500 from the Florida National
Bank. Mr. Barber had a wide-spread reputation for aiding deserving people and his word was
the only collateral anybody ever needed. The bank president's
immediate answer was, "yes, you can get it."
It took a little of the loan for living and moving expenses but in
the early part of 1905 Tate Powell took the $465 he had left plus $35
advanced him by his, mother and bought the Standard. With his
brother Avery and a Washington hand press they began working
upstairs in Mr. Allen's print shop.
A German tramp printer, fond of alcohol, came by and taught them
the business "from one end to the other." A couple of job presses
were acquired and business boomed.
In a short while Mr. Powell moved his bride, the former Miss
Carolyn Rivers, into Mrs. Lizzie Barber's hotel. Their firstborn, a
daughter, died young but soon there was a son named for his
father. Mr. Powell later recalled that he had a desire to quit it all
and ramble and never understood why. But ramble is what he did -
for 12 years.
In early 1929 the Powells returned to McClenny. "I decided
McClenny was where I wanted to stay", mused Mr. Powell many
years later. He determined to purchase the Standard again and
he found backers in the persons of the Messrs. Lucious Knabb, T.M.,
Dorman, W. C. Thompson, I. R. Rhoden and Joe Jones. He
renamed the little paper in honor of Mr. Howard's Press and, thus,
on the 12th of April, 1929, the Baker County Press was born.
(the Standard was revived by others and operated until 1942.)
Mrs. Powell died and was laid to rest in Woodlawn Cemetery
and Mr. Powell later married the beautiful Mrs. Cecil (nee Crews)
Harris. The new Mrs. Powell and Mr. Powell's daughter-in-law
helped to gather news but the mainstay in the business was
young Tate, Jr. He and his father enjoyed a partnership that lasted
32 years.
The Press was widely quoted by state and Georgia newspapers, its
wit and wisdom appreciated by knowledgeable editors. Tate, Jr.,
served as president of the Florida Press Association. The elder Mr.
Powell's eulogies were poetical and sincere and without excess
praise. Young folks enjoying a party or settled citizens "motoring to Jacksonville last Tuesday"
were news items of concern to the editors and their readers.
In the early 1960's Mr. Powell, Sr., sold out to his son and
grandson Ray Powell. In the following decade the Press
changed hands three times, its format went to National Enquirer
size, and its ink turned red (literally and figuratively). One
solid citizen and politician complained that the new compact size
was hardly enough to hide a bottle in. (In those days the post office
from which one picked up his Press and our one package store
were side by side.)
Tate, Jr., moved back in to save the Press much to the relief of
Baker Countians. Meanwhile, another institution died - Tate
Powell, Sr.
"Little Tate", as he will always be known to his fellow Baker
Countians, needed a rest from the headaches of the newspapering
business and in 1974 sold the Press to a young gentleman
described in the Miami Herald as an "Irish, Catholic, redheaded...Yankee."
Life has not always gone easy with the Press. It has been joked
about, praised and quoted, sometimes a little wobbly on its
foundations, but it is an institution we folks would rather not do
without...whether edited by a twinkling-eyed Tate, Sr., a dry-humored Tate, Jr., a quick
succession of folks whose names we have difficulty remembering,
or the present owner-editor.
What is the status of the Press and what kind of job is the present
owner-editor Jim McGauley doing? Quoting again from the
Herald, former owner-editor Powell commented in 1976, "he's
making the payments." These days, that's noteworthy in any
business.
THE PRESS.....
50th Anniversary
1929-1979
Back Home
THE BAKER COUNTY PRESS, Thursday April 26, 1979 Page Two
THE WAY IT WAS - Gene Barber
The Fraser Pioneers
This Sunday the Florida Clan Fraser will hold its annual reunion
at the picnic shelter on Rowe Barber Road south of McClenny.
Since so many of Baker County's outstanding educational, business, legislative and banking
persons are members of and descendants of that family we
thought it appropriate to present a few notes on them.
Mordecai Fraser, according to genealogist LaViece Smallwood,
is the earliest known of this line. Born shortly before the Revolutionary War in North Carolina of
Scottish ancestry, Mordecai migrated to South Carolina and
married Mary (last name unknown at this time). He possibly
married a second time and lived in Marlboro County, S.C. from
the end of the 18th century through the 1840's.
Two of his sons were Lewis and Thomas Jefferson and it is
through them the Baker County Frasers were descended. Lewis,
born about 1802, was married twice. To his second wife Latilla
Caulk, was born, among several others, Elizabeth "Bettie". She
was to later marry her cousin Clemon (or Clement) Cogdell
Fraser and moved to Florida. Lewis and his wives remained in
Marlboro County and are buried in a little family cemetery which
was lost for several years.
Thomas Fraser was born, either in 1795 or 1802, depending on
which census one uses to determine such dates. He married
Miss Emily Burroughs, also a native of South Carolina in 1831.
Although the census of 1860 (like the 1850 schedule, not always
very reliable) listed all the children as being born in South
Carolina, later research has enlightened us that Tom and Emily
made their move to Florida's Columbia (that part now Baker)
County prior to 1850 and that four of their children were born in
Florida.
The Tom and Emily Fraser homestead was on the high banks
of Cedar Creek (near the present Hamp Register Farm) and was a
model homeplace. There they reared nine children. John, born
in 1835, married Mary Raulerson, a daughter of Herod and Nancy.
(The Raulersons lived about 15 or 20 miles west on the Jacksonville-Tallahassee Road). He was lost in
1862 during the War Between the States.
Martha, born in 1835, and Samuel, born in 1839, probably
later returned to South Carolina during the latter years of the Civil
War. Georgia Ann was born in 1845 and married Henry L. Berry,
a son of Lewis and Nancy (the Berry place was a few miles east
of the Frasers on the aforementioned route). "Miss
Georgann," as she was known to her neighbors and many students,
was evidently widowed early (some folks whispered there was
not a marriage at all). She reared a young lady on the Berry Place
north of McClenny and then broke up housekeeping to live with the
Robert Rowe family south of McClenny. "We had great
respect for Miss Georgann", commented a former student of
the itinerant teacher, "but she was not particularly easy to get
along with."
Clement "Clem" was born in 1847 and married his first cousin
Bettie Fraser, a daughter of Lewis and Latilla. Clem also returned to
South Carolina but came back to Florida. One fine early summer
day his brother Brantley woke his family at their farm between Glen
St. Mary and Sanderson and said, "Well, this'll be the day Clem
comes rolling in." About noon, just in time for the extra big mess
of rations put on by Mrs. Fraser, Clem, Bettie, and their kids did
turn up the lane in their loaded wagon. Among the kids was Jim
who grew up to marry Lizzie, a daughter of Mott Howard (see
last week's article on county newspapers regarding Mr.
Howard). While living in Alachua County, Jim and Lizzie became
the parents of Edwin Gardner Fraser, one of Florida's most
illustrious lawmakers.
Young Jim had been named for his Uncle James, born in 1849.
The elder James also went back to South Carolina as did his sister
Sarah, born in 1850, and his brother Francis, born in 1852.
Amanda, born in 1850, married a neighbor, John Commander
Williams, son of the proliferate John Daniel and Rebecca Sweat
Williams. She remained in Baker County to become the clan mother
of literally thousands of that name. The late Preacher Jim
Williams of the ready smile and the friendly booming voice and
the well known and valuable citizens who were the children of
Henry and Mary Dugger are among the many descendants of
Amanda.
The youngest child of Tom and Emily was Brantley. He was born
in 1856 and at the age of 8 was involved in the daring and
traumatic experience of retrieving a wounded Reb from under the
very noses of the Yankee invaders. He accompanied his
mother and an aged slave on the mission and was forced to take the
oath of allegiance to the US flag (in case one wonders why the
word "forced", it must be remembered that banner was
then the emblem of an enemy of the Crackers).
Although it has been rumored the Frasers were of Quaker
sentiments in their faith, an occasional member of the clan
seemed to enjoy a good fracas. Thomas Jefferson Fraser was
reported to have been one of that type. While on a business trip to
Lake City in 1860 Tom was killed by a Mr. Walker in an argument.
There are two versions and either or both could be correct. That
there was a quarrel regarding a bill owed to hotel and livery
stable owner Mr. Walker seems to be fact. But that Mr. Fraser,
was a conservative Whig somewhat opposed to the Secession from the Union (as indeed most
Baker Countians were) and that Mr. Walker was a rabid Secessionist seems factual also and is
supposed to have been the subject of arguments in the past between
them.
Mrs. Fraser buried her husband at Lake City in a grave
which has not been found by their descendants. After the Battle at
Ocean Pond in February of 1864, she packed up the children who
wished to go and removed to Marlboro County, South Carolina.
Shortly after her return to her ancestral home Mrs. Fraser
passed away.
Georgann and Amanda remained in Baker County. Brantley
married Maranda Bowyer and moved back to live near his sisters
and, as stated before, Clem and his wife Bettie followed several
years later.
Witty, personable, charming, somewhat rebellious, and usually
possessed of luck and good looks the Fraser Clan is a welcome
ingredient to the heterogeneous mixture that has become Baker
County, Florida.
Back Home
THE BAKER COUNTY PRESS, Thursday May 3, 1979 Page Two
THE WAY IT WAS - Gene Barber
The Great Horse Race
Answering our call for some old-time anecdotes and tales, our
long time friend in Orange City, Lt. Col. Mace Harris, came up
with a story that was typical of every generation of Baker County
boys except the past couple - racing the work animals against
parental orders. The time was prior to any paved roads in the
county and before every family went deeply in debt so that every
kid 12 years of age and above had his/her own TransAm or Mustang
or whatever else is currently in vogue in wheels.
A little background: Col. Harris as a youngster, lived with
his grandmother Emma Stone Harris, the widow of Thompson
"Tom". Mrs. Harris' mother Harriet Dowling Stone, a Confederate Army Vet widow, lived
with them. The Harris homestead was on the St. Mary's River about
five miles south of Taylor Community. Like most Baker Countians, the widows, though
certainly not impoverished, had to watch over their belongings with
a careful eye. Their work animals were not to be abused and
misused making them unfit for plowing and necessary riding.
And, thus, hangs a tale.
"Great-grandma Stone's pride and joy was her old mare "Pet".
She drove that old horse to North Prong on big meeting day and let
as many of us young'uns as could ride, go also. Generally, I had to
walk as the old mare was so slow I could keep up without any trouble
and still have plenty of time to play and catch crawfish in the water-filled ditches along side the road.
"It was my duty to go to the mail box several times a week and
I was allowed to saddle up and ride old Pet most of the time. The
road from the farm to the county road led through the oak thicket
about two miles and then onto the "throwed up" road (road
work was often accomplished by the taxpayers' own manual labor
in lieu of paying their taxes. There was no DOT labor crew,
convict road gangs, or hired help in many parts of the county,
especially Taylor which was so far away from the county seat).
"The way led us over Bluff Creek and up the rise past Mr.
Rhoden's and on about 1 1/2 miles to the end of the mail route from
Glen Saint Mary.
"I was repeatedly told to 'not run that mare' and so on this day I
was very slowly and sedately poking along. From off to my left
came Charley Altman on a big white mule, fat and sleek as a
hound's tooth (the mule, not Charley). I waited up til he joined
me and he suggested 'let's race to the mail box.' This seemed like a
very fine idea to me so I agreed and we got ourselves lined up for
the start.
"In no time I was in front several hundred feet and going
lickity-split. But I had forgotten two important things - a horse will
not run over any obstacle it can jump and that there was a little ol'
bridge that drained the side ditch just ahead providing just such an
obstacle.
"When the mare and I got to the bridge she jumped, naturally,
and I jumped with her. But we came down at different times, me
later than she. As I laid there, lost of breath, here came the biggest
dadgummed mule's hoof I had ever seen and it barely missed my
face.
"The mule had also jumped the bridge and Charley fared no
better than I because he came down at a later time than his
mount. In fact, Charley did much worse than I as his foot caught in
the bridle and caused the mule to veer off into the woods dragging
poor Charley across every lightered knot and stump along
the way.
"The remarkable thing about it all was that Charley kept his
sanity and voice, hollering, 'whoa, mule, whoa' the entire
trip. When his steed finally halted, Charley rose with not one
broken bone, though only the Lord knows why.
We went about our duty of getting the mail and you can be
sure that neither of us ever told anyone about it until we were
grown. Charley is still alive and well in McClenny and I can't
imagine that he's ever forgotten about The Great Horse Race."
(Sorry, the writer cannot possibly give individual answers to the
several letters received this week but hopes all of you will read this
collective response. He is unauthorized and unable to make
collections for the local historical association and proposed
museum but he strongly supports both and encourages donors to
please remember them. A much needed organizational meeting is
proposed for the near future and information will be published
regarding article and financial donations received. This column
is separate from the historical association and welcomes data of
a historical nature.)
