AN IREDELL NEIGHBORHOOD A HALF CENTURY AGO 1845-53
By Captain H.A. Chambers of Chattanooga, Tennessee
The Statesville Landmark
May 1, 1900
Another of the old customs which prevailed in the
neighborhood was “wagoning”. At certain seasons of the year, when the
men and boys could be spared from the work at home, many of the
residents took their teams and wagons and hauled their surplus goods to
distant markets and brought back merchandise for the Statesville
merchants. Indeed, this latter was the principal object of the trips. A
little extra money could thus be realized to supplement the small
profits of the farm. The incidents of these trips, as reported by the
wagoners and their assistants, gave subjects for discussion among the
people in the neighborhood for months afterwards.
At first, these trips were made to Cheraw and Camden, and other points
in South Carolina and Fayetteville in North Carolina. The old men told
of wagon trips in their younger days as far south as Charleston and as
far north as Baltimore and Philadelphia. Later, the railroads got
nearer, the length of the trips were shortened and finally the custom
was abandoned altogether. The men and boys who went on these trips, on
their return, always had wonderful tales to tell of what they had seen
and heard and of the “mirings” and “stallings” and other interesting
incidents of the journey.
I was eager to go on some of these trips, but my grandfather was not in
the business after I was large enough to go, and I never had the
opportunity until after I had left the neighborhood, and then only a
four days trip to and from Charlotte, forty miles distant, to which
point the railroad from South Carolina had reached. I always felt like I
had been cheated out of one of the most enjoyable experiences of a
country boy’s life.
When one man did not have enough horses to make up a team for himself,
he would unite with another neighbor and the two would take a joint
interest in the enterprise. It was on these wagoning trips that such men
as Thomas Kimball, heretofore mentioned, were in demand in managing the
teams and hauling heavy loads. McHenry’s Hill, on the “Georgia” Road,
just south of the Third Creek Bridge, was looked upon by the wagoners of
this old neighborhood as a most serious obstacle on their way to
southern markets. It was the longest and highest hill on the way to
climb with a heavy load. To get up it with a heavy load called for all
the skill of the driver and strength of the horses. Often when wagons
were started on the trip, extra men would go that far bringing extra
horses.
The hill took its name from a family that lived at the top. When I can
first remember, Henry McHenry, a man of somewhat hermit habits, lived
there with a few servants. The man was very eccentric, and within the
latter days of my recollection, stayed closely to home and had little to
do with his neighbors. It was reputed that he had a considerable sum of
money about the house. The story was told that sometimes, probably when
he had been drinking a little heavily, he used to get out his money and
scatter the coins about the room and afterwards gather them up and hide
them away. How much of this was true I do not know. He let his servants
do pretty much as they pleased and his house, barn and fence were in a
dilapidated condition.
His house was about a hundred yards west of the public road, a little
too far for talking to passers-by on the road, but still in plain view.
Persons passing along that road during the day time could always see Mr.
McHenry sitting on his front porch. In going to and from Bethesda, I
have often seen him sitting there. He was old and white headed. My
recollection is that if anyone approached the house from the road,
especially if it was someone the old man did not wish to see, he would
run in the house and close and fasten the door.
In this day, before the railroad and the numerous stores in town and
country, the neighborhood was often visited by tin peddlers and chicken
buyers with their wagons and foot peddlers carrying their packs of linen
table cloths, towels and such things. It was always an event in the
family when the tin peddler with his glib tongue, big box wagon and
shining contents came around. The women of the family then laid in their
coffee pots, tin cups and pans and japanned ware and such things needed
in the family and gave in return beeswax, feathers, eggs and other such
produce of the farm as the peddler could be induced to take and gave him
as little money as possible.
The coming of the chicken buyer and foot peddler, though not so showy
and important as the tin peddler, was, nevertheless, an interesting
occasion which broke the monotony of the simple country life. These
customs have been almost entirely discontinued under the changed
conditions of modern life.
Another thing, always of interest and discussion among the neighbors,
was the passage of wild fowls and birds. Wild geese and ducks were often
seen in large flocks flying northward in the fall, stopping occasionally
in the neighborhood. But the most interesting thing in those days was
the passage of large flocks of wild pigeons that used to come in acorn
time on their way south. They flew down nearer the ground than the other
birds and in such numbers as to darken the air and sometimes break the
limbs of the branches they alighted upon. I do not recall that their was
any roost in the immediate neighborhood, but sportsmen, nevertheless,
managed to get a good number of these birds as they passed through, or
sometimes sojourned in the country. For some reason, these flocks of
pigeons afterwards ceased to appear. I do not remember hearing of any
for many years.
The people of this neighborhood were so intimate with each other that
the personal peculiarities of every individual were well known. Some of
the families were known for their abundant and somewhat lavish
hospitality during the choppings, log rollings or other occasions
heretofore mentioned. Others, again, were regarded as the contrary. Some
of the good women of the neighborhood were celebrated for their
excellence in certain types of domestic work. Ruth Chambers, Jr., was
noted for her industry, her excellent corn-pone she could make and the
beautiful “counterpins” (counterpanes) she could weave. Mrs. Harkey was
noted for her fine pumpkin and potato custards and other toothsome
products of her “Dutch Oven”. This oven was the first of its kind I ever
saw, and probably the first one of the kind ever built in the
neighborhood. The Dutch residents were probably more inclined to
liberality in their table supplied than the more economical
Scotch-Irish. However, all were hospitable and delighted to share their
good things with their neighbors or passing strangers.
As before stated, there were no churches within the bounds of the
neighborhood. Neither were there any doctors. Insofar as I can remember,
not a single death occurred in the neighborhood during the entire eight
years covered by these sketches. No reflection on the doctors is
intended by the statement of this fact. The “chills” with their ravenous
demands for quinine, had not yet erupted that far west.
Whenever a doctor was needed, Dr. Moore or Dr. Nesbit of Statesville,
and later Dr. Kelly or Dr. Campbell was usually sent for. During part of
this time, Dr. James L. Dusenbury was located at “Farmville” the old
Chambers homestead eight miles east of Statesville, then owned by P.B.
Chambers. Dr. Dusenbury was reputed to be a fine physician and was also
sometimes sent for to attend persons in the neighborhood.
Dr. Murchison, a “steam” or “Thomsonian” doctor lived on “I.L.(?)”
Creek, a short distance south of Third Creek. He was held in a sort of
professional contempt by the regular doctors, but, nevertheless, his
simple remedies acquired for him a considerable practice in his
locality. He was now and then called into the old neighborhood.
I recollect that at one time, my grandmother’s Negro man, John, was
taken down and confined a long time to his bed with a severe and painful
attack of rheumatism. He could hardly moved and yelled with pain at
every attempt. Some of the other physicians had tried to help John but
had failed. Finally my grandfather determined to call in Dr. Murchison,
notwithstanding the prevailing prejudice against his style of medicine.
I remember well the doctor’s treatment. He managed to get John into a
chair and covered him with heavy blankets fastening closely around his
neck and reaching to the floor. He then had ovens or pots of hot water
shoved under these blankets to create steam. The water was kept hot as
long as wanted, as I remember, by stone which had been heated in the
fire, just as was the custom to keep water hot at hog killing time.
The perspiration from John, together with the steam, would drop from him
and run in great streams across the floor. When the doctor had thus
steamed the patient until he was weak, he would gradually remove the
blankets and rub the patient briskly with some pepperish liquid to
prevent his taking cold, put him back in bed, cover him up, leave him
some simple remedies, and go on his way.
The results of several successive treatments of the above effected a
cure. So far as I can recollect, though John was exposed afterwards to
as much of the conditions which produce the disease, and though he lived
to be quite an old man, he never again had a touch of rheumatism. This
cure gave Dr. Murchison a big reputation in the neighborhood.
To Be Continued
Transcribed by Christine Spencer, May, 2008
