Silas McDowell, on Morganton (part 4)

Morganton and its Surroundings Sixty Years Ago, excerpt, by Silas McDowell, c. 1877, manuscript (transcribed by Ann Walker, ©2009)

... The old lady remarked, that as my business would bring me in contact with the citizens of Burke, that she would, for my benefit, exhibit to me a kind of portrait gallery of those families who occupied the front rank in Burke's social circle; as well as a kind of rear rank; that is to say, families who were tolerated in consequence of their wealth.

"I will begin," she continued, "with the old patriarchs of the county—the few survivors from whom have descended the very best families in the county. The oldest man among these is Arthur Erwin, living on Upper creek; he was once a man of sound practical sense, and of amiable character; but a plain unassuming man; is now high up in eighty, and the father of Col W.W. Erwin of Belvidere. The next is Alexander Erwin, brother of Arthur, and two years younger: their farms join. They are quite unlike in character, Alexander having been devoted to books and a thorough knowledge of the current literature of the age, and withall, when young, a wit, and a dandy: his best representative is Col James Erwin, clerk of our county court. He has many daughters and three sons by his last wife, but none of these are of much promise. The next oldest man is Col. Waightstill Avery of Swan Ponds, four miles up the river. He was once a great lawyer, and [an] amiable man, but now confined at home from weakness in his limbs: he is represented by his only son named Isaac, lately married to Harriet, eldest daughter of Col W.W. Erwin.

"The next is John Rutherford of Muddy creek 12 miles above Morganton, he will be represented by his only surviving son John; two of his sons having died in the state of Mississippi: his son John is a queer man, but said to have brains.

"The next is Col John Carson of Buck creek, twenty six miles above Morganton: his best representative promises to be his son Joseph, a lawyer of some note living in Rutherford county. Carson's last wife was the widow of Genl Joseph McDowell of Pleasant Gardens, and Joseph McDowell's best representative is his son John, living in Rutherford County. The homestead, the Gardens, are owned by his youngest son James, but he is no Jo, and will never set the world on fire. James Murphey is our next oldest man, and is a good financeer, acquiring fast and holding on to all that he ever grasps. He has an only son named Jack, a dull man.

"Then, there is Col John McGimsey of Lineville [sic] valley: he has two sons, John and William—clever young men. The there is old Daniel Forney of Upper creek; very clever, yet made a fool of himself by marrying a young girl while he was near sixty—he will be represented by a large family of children. And then, there is old Col Andrew Baird of Gunpowder creek who has a fine family, and makes bar iron; and there is also old Sam [Newland?] that married a Tate, of the same section, twenty miles in the N. East section of the county. And besides these there are on Johns river the three Perkins brothers and their families; but Jo has the most pretty daughters; and there is Major Hiland, who married a Perkins; all respectable, but unkind to their slaves. Also, there is Dr Thos Bouchell and family, they are tip-toppers, and live up to and, perhaps, beyond the Drs income: but the girls marry well, two of them [ . . . ] Lenoir, the first having died. And then there is old Dave Tate of Morganton and his family: Dave is a kind hearted wicked man, in whom evil and good are about equally mixed, and is very popular with the poor, and represents Burke in the legislature.

"Next, come in the Greenlee brothers, five of them. They hold vast property, but their social position is not what might be expected; but I must say little about that, for Dave Greenlee is master to my niece, while John has for wife one of the best ladies in the country: pious, accomplished, and kind. But the drawbacks on the family are Ephraim, Sam, James and Bill. Ephraim married Sally Howard of Virginia and they commenced a race who could drink the most brandy! She won, but will not live twelve months, while he can drink himself full, and it don't seem to hurt him.

"Sam keeps a black woman for wife, and that woman is the greatest curiosity I ever beheld. She is coal black; but her form and features that would be a good model for a statuary chiseling out a H___. Jim and Bill are idiots, —nearly.

"Another batch of wealthy brothers are the Harshaws: they may be called the Arabs of our respectable society, and form no part of it. Now comes in the names of younger men, such as Charles McDowell of Quaker Meadows; Abe Flemming of Flemming island; and indeed I might name scores of others who are amiable men, but I am growing weary of the thing, and will cut short, and let you go to rest."

...

Silas McDowell, on Morganton (part 1)

Morganton and its Surroundings Sixty Years Ago, excerpt, by Silas McDowell, c. 1877, manuscript (transcribed by Ann Walker, ©2009)

In the year 1830 on Hunting creek, Burke County, there died an old German named Christian Bottles. The old man had acquired a local fame that rested on the single fact that he had run his wagon betwixt Morganton and Charleston for more than forty years. During this time it was his hap to bring from Charleston to Morganton, and at different periods three mechanics, who, afterward, made their mark upon the social world, and the first of these left a very ugly mark. His name was Caleb Poor, by trade a tanner, and from the state of Massachusetts. The second was named E[d]ward Williams. He, too, was from Massachusetts, and his trade also was that of tanner. The third one was named Silas McDowell, born in York District, S. Carolina. The above is but an introduction to a long story.

In the month of July 1816 Bottles drove his wagon to the store of Thomas Walton in Morganton, and on the opposite side of the street of a small brick hotel kept by Mrs Nancy McEntire and her son William, while the real head of the family was James McEntire, who was then, at the age of ninety, blind, helpless, and confined to his apartment, while Mrs McEntire was a a small sprightly old lady, and apparently short of sixty. With Bottles was a slender youth, apparently, not out of his teens: he was fair of skin, lustrous dark eyes, set deeply beneath an ample forehead, teeth pearly white and dark curly hair.

Bottles presented the youth to Walton in these words– "Col. Walton this is a young tailor I picked up in Charleston and brought mit me; what you tink [sic] of his looks, and how you like him?"

Walton shook the youth's hand cordially, and then turned to Bottles and observed. "Bottles you have asked me two questions and I will answer but one of them, and that is in relation to the young man's looks: his looks spring in my mind a fantastic conceit that takes about this shape. Nature must have been in a fickle mood when she started to make him; she commenced to make a pretty woman, changed her mind, and the result of her job was a handsome little man." "Yes, and per the too laddies he ish as goot as he ish handsome, and right down charmante," Bottles replied. The youth blushed and remarked, "Friend Bottles has made up an opinion in my favor on a very short acquaintance, which, no doubt, wants to be modified if he knew more of me." Walton took the youth on up the street and presented him to Mrs McEntire and her bachelor son William–a small oldish looking man, and utterly bald headed. When the eyes of Mrs McEntire met those of the young man she appeared strangely agitated, and hurriedly asked, "Young man, are you not from Ireland, and are you not related to the Maxwells?" Both these questions he answered in the negative: but still the old lady kept her eyes on him, and they held two, big, trembling tears. There was a cause; but that, in its proper place.

After dinner the young man asked Mrs McEntire to point out the direction of their Church, at which she replied, "Young man, I am ashamed to tell you that Morganton has no Church, and never had one; nor has she any educational building. To confess the truth, Morganton has no use for a Church, because there are but four professors of religion in the place, and these are my son William, daughter Matty Walton, and myself : the other is Dave Tate's black man, Brooks." "And where do you bury your dead?" the youth asked. She replied, "We have a private burying ground two hundred paces west of this, and there my oldest daughter Jenny Walton is buried, and there also will my old man and me be buried: but the public burying ground is over the river near Quaker Meadows meeting house. Twenty five years ago a bright young man named McKamey [Makemie] Wilson--he was a presbyterian preacher; he organized a Church at Quaker Meadows and preached there for 20 years: but he married Polly, the lovely daughter of Alexander Erwin, and children came so fast that his salary did not support him, and he was compelled to leave, and we have had no regular preaching since; but Mr Wilson attends once a year to administer the sacrament to the old members." "But do tell me," she continued, "why is it that the first thing you wish to visit in our town is a Church?" "Oh, I hardly know why," he replied. "It is not the Church, but the graves where the dead repose that I want to see: sometimes I am attacked by a feeling so incredibly lonely that I feel like that crazed man we read of in the gospel, who made his abode among the tombs." The old lady uttered one short exclamation– "Unfortunate young man!" and wept.

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