This is my grandfather's story written in 1951 when he was in his sixties as I am now. It seems much more interesting to me now than when I was younger. Previously I had typed out the first two chapters. He told of his life up to about age 15 growing up in the hills of Appalachia and starting work in the coal mines of West Virginia at age 12. It's a little pushing it call it a book. It's 68 pages long with a dozen short chapters in the pamphlet form his daughter had self published.
It ends in Arizona. He does have his name on the cornerstone of the 1911 Greenlee County Courthouse in Clifton AZ as the school superintendent.
He tells of a time not that long ago when this country was in many ways more a third world country than an industrial or post industrial country.
I don't want to comment on the story before he tells it, but the points of interest I got from the pervious diary were:
Mother Jones was a really amazing person. He mentions her work in West Virginia. The work she did where he was a child working in the mines could be considered a total failure. It goes to point out that as much of the truth in "“The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.” lies in the first part of the sentence.
Race, culture and history are strong influences on our society, but do not determine life. My grandfather was the grandson of a member of Robert E. Lee's army, but the major father figure in his life who essentially raised him from the age of 12 to early adulthood was a former slave "Uncle Jake".
Do not write off the whites of the south and especially West Virginia. In their family histories lies much of real knowledge of progressive struggles, victories and defeats.
Chapter 3 was rather long so I'll put off the part about losing his arm and leg to next time.
He died in when I was 13, typing this out is to give a chance to know the story better, but would welcome any comments.
Chapter 3 below
Chapter III
“REMEMBER THE MAINE” 1898
My acquaintance with Mary Stephens, during her visit with her brother, Ed, had done something to me. Mary could read and write fairly well, but I could not. It dawned on me for the first time that any red-blooded American boy of fifteen who could not read and write ought to be taken out into the woods and horse whipped. My mother had learned to read and write after she was married. My father had taught country schools. Uncle Jake, an ex-slave negro, could read. Why couldn’t I? How nice it would be to be able to write to Mary!
I called on Eulalia, my friend who worked in the post office (Eulailia had read to me a few letters I received and answered them for me.) She took a great interest in my ambition and desire and undertook the task of teaching me on evenings after work hours. We got along fine for several months when I wanted her to help me compose a letter to Mary; and Eulailia, nearer my own age than Mar, blew up and refused to give me any more lessons.
Not many months after this one evening there appeared in the town a brass band, a young orator, and twelve or fifteen teen-age girls all dressed in white, from Welch, the county seat of McDowell County. The band played marches and patriotic pieces on the company store porch and all the citizens of Mayberry gathered in the street in front of the store. The young orator got up and made a stirring appeal for volunteers for the Spanish American War. He told how the cowardly Spaniards had blown up the Maine in the dead hours of the night. His speech was followed by a song by the prettiest girls AI had ever seen. The chorus of the song I will never forget:
“Once I had a sweetheart, noble, brave, and true,
Fearless as the sunrise, gentle as the dew.
We had loved and waited, he had named the day.
We had pledged to wed each other in the month of May
Out on the high seas he sailed, under the red, white and blue,
Faithful to country and home, faithful to Captain and crew.
But now he fills an unknown grave beneath the Torrid Clime;
But this heart shall weep forever, this heart, this heart of mine.
So, rouse up, my countrymen, rouse. Thank not his death in vain,
But strike down the cowardly foe that slaughtered the crew of the Maine!
That evening I was stuck with a spasm of patriotism, a hungering for adventure, travel, and a greater knowledge of the world. I had to go to the war, just had to go; but I would not be seventeen till July the seventh.
I went to Welch, the county seat, but I could not get into the service. They told me I was too young and light. I weighted one hundred, six pounds stripped, but was tall enough; tall enough five foot, eight inches. I went to Bluefield, West Virginia, but was refused there. From there, I went to Grayson County to learned that Mother had married a second time and moved to Smith County, Virginia. I looked her up but she refused to give her consent for me to join the volunteers.
Again I evaporated and went to Knoxville, Tennessee, where I heard the 4th Tennessee Volunteers Infantry Regiment was being recruited. The 4th was encamped on the outskirts of the city at Chillhonie Park. There I met Sergeant Murrey of Company G, whom I had met previously as a traveling salesman in West Virginia. I told the first sergeant my troubles and that I was going to join the 4th a a mascot, shoe shine, wagon swamper, or something. My mind was made up. “Remember the Maine!” was ringing in my ears.
Sergeant Murrey took me before the regimental doctor, told the old medic, with a smile, I was twenty one yeas old, my mother had married a second time, I wound not stay at home, etc. The doctor went over me thoroughly and said to the sergeant. “He’s the healthiest lad I ever examined,” and asked me what I had been raised on, what kind of food I ate. When I told him milk, corn bread, molasses, and moonshine, he and the sergeant laughed. I stepped upon the scales, stripped, and weighted one hundred twenty pounds, I had never weighted over one hundred six before, but when I looked down and saw the toe of he sergeant’s shoe on the scales, I knew why I was so heavy. From the doctor, I went before Col. George LeRoy Brown, was sworn in, and assigned to Company G under Capt. Jordan. Cordell Hull was major of the Battalion at the time. It was the ninth of July, 1898. I was seventeen years and two days old.
We were housed in ten by twelve tents, about six boys or men to a tent. Our bed consisted of a pile of straw and each soldier had two cotton blankets. We called them “hen skins” and slept like pigs. Our lights were sperm candles, our only furniture a cracker box, and our rations of salt pork, hard tack and beans were well seasoned with salt peter. Of course we had sugar, coffee, and canned tomatoes. Each soldier was equipped with a single shot Springfield rifle. In time we were issued blue uniforms, but none to fit me. My uniform was many sizes too big.
The first time I went out on dress parade in my new outfit, the sleeves of my blouse came down to the ends of my fingers, the seat of my pants bagged almost to the my knees and about si inches of my pants legs were turned up on the inside and pinned. The officer of the day came along inspecting the men and when he got to me he stopped, looked me up and down and ordered me to step back three paces out of line. I obeyed and formed the guard. Soon he came back to me. I was still standing at attention, the perspiration running down into my eyes, smarting and burning. He asked me what I was doing on dress parade in that uniform. I informed him in no humble tone of voice, that I was enlisted and had as much right on dress parade as he did. It was not my fault if the Army didn’t have a uniform to fit me.
“You’re not enlisted. You’re just a mascot”, he said.
I was insulted and told him so. He took me to Capt. Jordan’s tent and my name was the first one on the company roll. The two had a good laugh and the captain gave me a pass and five dollars and ordered me to go to town and have my uniform cut down to fit me.
The 4th Tennessee was brigaded with the 31st Michigan and 6th Ohio under Brigadier General Snyder. We drilled around Knoxville about five months and were sent to Cuba in November, after Spain surrendered, to clean up the mess the fighting forces had made and left, and it was a mess! We had chills, yellow fever, diarrhea, pyorrhea, and gonorrhea, but, thank goodness, no Korea!
After cleaning up several towns along the southern coast of Cuba and sending what was left of the Spanish Army back to Spain, we returned to Savannah, Georgia, and were mustered out of the service on the fifth of May, 1899.
What we did in Cuba and the way we did it would make an interesting volume, and our experiences influenced my entire life; but as this is to be a handicapped story, we will have to skip it for the present.
On my return to Mayberry I found myself somewhat of a hero in the eyes of my old pals, and many changes had taken place in my absence.
Before leaving for the service, no one in Mayberry, outside a small circle of mongrel friends, paid any attention to me; but now, the super’s son, the doctor’s son, the post master’s daughter, Eulalia, store clerks, in fact, all the white collared bunch took me under their wings and wined and dined me often. I not only got my old job back, but in less than three months was promoted to locomotive engineer and my pay raised from one dollar and sixty cents per day to four dollars and twenty cents per day, which was top wages. I did not realize at the time that I was too young, reckless, and inexperienced to run a locomotive, but the company was interested in only one thing; “to get black diamonds in the gondolas,” and I set a new all-time high tonnage record.
Another change had taken place while I was in the service. Mary Stephen’s mother had passed away and her brother, Ed, the mine boss, had moved Mary and her aging father to Mayberry. Mary was managing the company boarding house where the white collared folks boarded.
Mary had big round, blue eyes, golden hair, dressed neatly, and possessed an abundance of natural ability and resourcefulness. All the white collared boys made eyes at her, but I fell the hardest. However, I was still shy around the fairer sex. I had seen so much venereal sickness in the Army I thought every woman was a potential enemy and carried a concealed weapon. The socials, parties, old-time dances gradually overcame much of my shyness, but I could not muster the courage to tell Mary I loved her, not for more than a year.
With the start Eulalia had given me toward learning to read and write, together with the help and encouragement of Sergeant Murrey in the service, I could now read light, western stories and love stories and enjoyed them immensely.
For a year and a half or more I settled down to a routine, hauling coal nine hours a day sometimes working many more hours when break-downs occurred. Mary, too, worked hard and long hours, so that neither of us thought too much about love. All the while I patronized Uncle Jake’s cottage and occasionally his religious services.
One lovely June evening old Jake preached me a sermon on marriage. He argued that every healthy young man ought to marry, it was the natural way to live, and he proved it by the Bible.
With two or three glasses of Uncle Jake’s inspiration under my belt, I went straight to the company boarding house. I found Mary relaxing in the little parlor, all alone, after a hard day’s work. Well, before I left, about one a.m. Mary and I were engaged to be married around the first of September, 1901 (I think it was.) Anyway when I left her, I was walking on air. Nothing could stop me, nothing – so I thought.
Next: Chapter IV THE END OF MY OLD LIFE.