Read Gradmother's story about Old Liash McGraw and A Big Fight here in my blog.
http://amazinglifemidlifeedition.blogspot.com/2014/01/old-liash-mcgraw-and-big-fight.html
Friday, January 17, 2014
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
The Road Speaking
Following are excerpts from stories written by my Great-Grandmother, Annie Biggs Adcock as they were written to her daughter Clara. They were compiled in a book entitled No More The Wild Country by my cousin John R. Coles. He graciously gave me permission to use these in hopes that future generations of our family will know a little bit of our history.
"In the year of 1903, there was only a narrow muddy dirt road all the way to the top of the ridge which is now Joelton. Part of the time, so muddy you could hardly go. People was complaining everywhere. They decided to have a Road Speaking at what is called the Turn Hole. They barbecued pork and sheep and had a wonderful dinner. Everybody brought something. They had some fine cooks in them days who brought just about everything, saying nothing about the fine barbecue.
They had a bunch of people from Nashville Courthouse to come out and make a speech. Of course, they knew it would raise taxes. But, at that time you could hardly get to Nashville or Springfield for the bad roads. All they had was two-horse wagons and mules. a few had buggies. At that time, I had never seen a city. I can remember studying, "What would one look like?" But, I loved the woods and the paths through them.
I never heard such speaking, or saw as much to eat. They had lemonade made in six-gallon lard cans. They decided on the road. They brought rock from Peggy Holler which lays to the back of Froest Grove Church about three quarters of a mile. they blasted out the rock and had the road widened out. They covered the road from here to Joelton with about a half foot of blue flint rock out of Peggy Holler. They moved a rock crusher* down there and grounded fine rock to go over the other rock.
Peggy Holler got its name from an old log cabin up on the hill called the Old Peggy Teague Hut. They said she had a wash kettle full of money buried up there, somewhere in them ditches. She died nearly a hundred years ago, but the old hut is still partly there, and the treasure hunt is still in progress.
Back to the rock crusher. They called it the Whillo-po-whalipor because that's the sound it made. It ran on steam and it crushed the rock down flat.
When it was finished, we thought we had the finest community. It was the first good road we'd ever had. Of course those of us who lived back from this road had a hard time getting to it. If they had a big load to take to town, they took out part of the load to the big road and unloaded, and went back after the rest. Now it is a fine road. Its number is 431."
*The steam powered rock crusher was operated by Jesse Eugene Coles. Eight years after this incident, he had a son named Jesse Alvin Coles. When this son grew up he married Annie Adcock's daughter, Clara.
"In the year of 1903, there was only a narrow muddy dirt road all the way to the top of the ridge which is now Joelton. Part of the time, so muddy you could hardly go. People was complaining everywhere. They decided to have a Road Speaking at what is called the Turn Hole. They barbecued pork and sheep and had a wonderful dinner. Everybody brought something. They had some fine cooks in them days who brought just about everything, saying nothing about the fine barbecue.
They had a bunch of people from Nashville Courthouse to come out and make a speech. Of course, they knew it would raise taxes. But, at that time you could hardly get to Nashville or Springfield for the bad roads. All they had was two-horse wagons and mules. a few had buggies. At that time, I had never seen a city. I can remember studying, "What would one look like?" But, I loved the woods and the paths through them.
I never heard such speaking, or saw as much to eat. They had lemonade made in six-gallon lard cans. They decided on the road. They brought rock from Peggy Holler which lays to the back of Froest Grove Church about three quarters of a mile. they blasted out the rock and had the road widened out. They covered the road from here to Joelton with about a half foot of blue flint rock out of Peggy Holler. They moved a rock crusher* down there and grounded fine rock to go over the other rock.
Peggy Holler got its name from an old log cabin up on the hill called the Old Peggy Teague Hut. They said she had a wash kettle full of money buried up there, somewhere in them ditches. She died nearly a hundred years ago, but the old hut is still partly there, and the treasure hunt is still in progress.
Back to the rock crusher. They called it the Whillo-po-whalipor because that's the sound it made. It ran on steam and it crushed the rock down flat.
When it was finished, we thought we had the finest community. It was the first good road we'd ever had. Of course those of us who lived back from this road had a hard time getting to it. If they had a big load to take to town, they took out part of the load to the big road and unloaded, and went back after the rest. Now it is a fine road. Its number is 431."
*The steam powered rock crusher was operated by Jesse Eugene Coles. Eight years after this incident, he had a son named Jesse Alvin Coles. When this son grew up he married Annie Adcock's daughter, Clara.
Monday, January 13, 2014
Money Was Scarce and A Log Rolling
Following are excerpts from stories written by my Great-Grandmother, Annie Biggs Adcock as they were written to her daughter Clara. They were compiled in a book entitled No More The Wild Country by my cousin John R. Coles. He graciously gave me permission to use these in hopes that future generations of our family will know a little bit of our history.
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| These are Annie's Parents- My Great-Great Grandparents |
Money was Scarce
"When we moved to Sycamore Creek, I could read and write, as I had put one year up at Old Mt. Pleasant School. Here I learned very fast and finished the eighth grade, was starting in the ninth when the Dillards asked me to teach their little girls. Money was scarce so I took the job of teaching Ruth and Cleo Dillard for five dollars a week. I bought myself some new clothes for I sure didn't have any."
A Log Rolling
"When I was a small girl at home with my parents, people raised mostly what we ate. So, we didn't have enough cleared land. Most of this land was loaded with big heavy timber, trees over three feet through in diameter. These trees had to be got out of the way so the land would be cleared. This was called "new ground."
So, the men all worked together. They would have a big log rolling. Few people living now ever saw one. I saw several when I was small. We had a hill called Billy Goat Hill covered in big white oaks and black oaks. My father threw a big log rolling. About twenty-five neighbor men came with hand spikes. That meant a big dinner had to be cooked. It took several neighbor women to help. They would kill several chickens, made dumplins, had some old fashioned pies cooked, plenty of coffee and milk.
The men would cut these big trees and saw them up with what they called cross-cut saws. Hadn't thought of a chain saw. They would take these hand spikes and drive them into the end of the logs and split them. I have often thought of how much money they would have brought if we only had them now. But, they was set fire to and burned-up so as to clear the ground. It was not waste then, because there was no sale for them. On the new ground, we grew tobacco and other things. Then it was a pasture. It grew up in wild blackberry vines. We picked all we could use. And people all around came and picked."
Sunday, January 12, 2014
What Wasn't Cherokee Indians, Was Part (Cherokee)
Following are excerpts from stories written by my Great-Grandmother, Annie Biggs Adcock as they were written to her daughter Clara. They were compiled in a book entitled No More The Wild Country by my cousin John R. Coles. He graciously gave me permission to use these in hopes that future generations of our family will know a little bit of our history.
"In the year 1901, in March, we moved to Sycamore Creek, five miles North of what is now Joelton. Then it was just an ordinary settlement. There was five of us children, one boy and four girls. I was next to the oldest girl. I was born in March, 1892. I was nine years old when we moved from Cheatham county, near Big Marrowbone Creek and near a Baptist Church called Mount Pleasant. Very few people lived in the community and they were mostly Adcocks. What wasn't Cherokee Indians, was part. They was hard to get acquainted with. Once you got to know them, you liked them. We got a big laugh out of them Cherokees. If they met you out away from the house, they would get behind a big tree, and turn as you got nearer. You hardly ever got to speak to one of them. After awhile we got used them and they quit hiding from us.
It was heavy timbered area at that time, very little cleared land, just enough for some corn and a garden. The livestock all run out in the woods. Each person had a certain mark he cut on the ear of his animal so he would know them. It was dangerous to get out in the woods, so you had to stay near the house.
We moved tin an old house facing the creek, called the Seats House. Old man Seats, was a drunkard, and he would beat his wife every time he got drunk. They didn't have no children. One evening he came home drunk and beat his wife up, and sat down in a chair and went to sleep. His wife took a notion she had taken enough of those beatings. So, she got the chopping axe, which they said must have been sharp, slipped up where he had thrown his head back across the chair back. She come down on him with this sharp axe and chopped off his head. There was blood all over the top of the room where he jumped up and hit the top of the room. Well, they had to bury him in a wooden box. That was before funeral homes or cars of any kind was invented. So, they carried him out of this old road on a slide pulled by oxen to what they called the Old Liberty Graveyard. The so-called law at that time give the old woman ten days to leave the county. And she did, and was never seen again by anybody in this area.
We was always wondering, us children that is, if we would see or hear Old Seats, since we moved in the old house. But, I never heard nothing. The old house is not there, but the tale of Old Seats getting his head chopped off is still told, and the old Seats Road is still visible."
"In the year 1901, in March, we moved to Sycamore Creek, five miles North of what is now Joelton. Then it was just an ordinary settlement. There was five of us children, one boy and four girls. I was next to the oldest girl. I was born in March, 1892. I was nine years old when we moved from Cheatham county, near Big Marrowbone Creek and near a Baptist Church called Mount Pleasant. Very few people lived in the community and they were mostly Adcocks. What wasn't Cherokee Indians, was part. They was hard to get acquainted with. Once you got to know them, you liked them. We got a big laugh out of them Cherokees. If they met you out away from the house, they would get behind a big tree, and turn as you got nearer. You hardly ever got to speak to one of them. After awhile we got used them and they quit hiding from us.
It was heavy timbered area at that time, very little cleared land, just enough for some corn and a garden. The livestock all run out in the woods. Each person had a certain mark he cut on the ear of his animal so he would know them. It was dangerous to get out in the woods, so you had to stay near the house.
We moved tin an old house facing the creek, called the Seats House. Old man Seats, was a drunkard, and he would beat his wife every time he got drunk. They didn't have no children. One evening he came home drunk and beat his wife up, and sat down in a chair and went to sleep. His wife took a notion she had taken enough of those beatings. So, she got the chopping axe, which they said must have been sharp, slipped up where he had thrown his head back across the chair back. She come down on him with this sharp axe and chopped off his head. There was blood all over the top of the room where he jumped up and hit the top of the room. Well, they had to bury him in a wooden box. That was before funeral homes or cars of any kind was invented. So, they carried him out of this old road on a slide pulled by oxen to what they called the Old Liberty Graveyard. The so-called law at that time give the old woman ten days to leave the county. And she did, and was never seen again by anybody in this area.
We was always wondering, us children that is, if we would see or hear Old Seats, since we moved in the old house. But, I never heard nothing. The old house is not there, but the tale of Old Seats getting his head chopped off is still told, and the old Seats Road is still visible."
Saturday, January 11, 2014
They Named Every Hollow
Following are excerpts from stories written by my Great-Grandmother, Annie Biggs Adcock as they were written to her daughter Clara. They were compiled in a book entitled No More The Wild Country by my cousin John R. Coles. He graciously gave me permission to use these in hopes that future generations of our family will know a little bit of our history.
"In the early part of the 19th century, the Adcocks came here on Sycamore Creek. They came from the mountains. They entered about 300 acres of land, most of it up and down the Sycamore Creek. They named every hollow that run into this creek and every hole of water. Starting at the North boundary line of Davidson County and Robinson County, about ten miles up Sycamore Creek, the first big hole of water was the Turn Hole. The next one coming up the creek was near the blacksmith shop, which sat on the bank of the creek. It was called the Shop Hole. About half a mile up as where a mule got drownded. That was the Mule Hole. About a mile further up was one called Blue Hole. All these were the best places to fish.
And beginning at the same place, the Turn Hole, the first hollow running Northeast was called Otter Den Hollow. The next one was the Barn Hollow because there was a log barn in the mouth of this hollow. The next one was Sheep Hollow, because they kept a herd of sheep around this place. It was all deep wooded area.
Up and down the Sycamore Creek, just the memory is all that is left of the old ones. Some of the great-grandchildren own part of the land. Others, just strangers, moved in. There are two cemeteries of Adcocks still on this Adcock land. Old stories of how everything was is still known and the names of the hollows still stays the same. They are called that today."
"In the early part of the 19th century, the Adcocks came here on Sycamore Creek. They came from the mountains. They entered about 300 acres of land, most of it up and down the Sycamore Creek. They named every hollow that run into this creek and every hole of water. Starting at the North boundary line of Davidson County and Robinson County, about ten miles up Sycamore Creek, the first big hole of water was the Turn Hole. The next one coming up the creek was near the blacksmith shop, which sat on the bank of the creek. It was called the Shop Hole. About half a mile up as where a mule got drownded. That was the Mule Hole. About a mile further up was one called Blue Hole. All these were the best places to fish.
And beginning at the same place, the Turn Hole, the first hollow running Northeast was called Otter Den Hollow. The next one was the Barn Hollow because there was a log barn in the mouth of this hollow. The next one was Sheep Hollow, because they kept a herd of sheep around this place. It was all deep wooded area.
Up and down the Sycamore Creek, just the memory is all that is left of the old ones. Some of the great-grandchildren own part of the land. Others, just strangers, moved in. There are two cemeteries of Adcocks still on this Adcock land. Old stories of how everything was is still known and the names of the hollows still stays the same. They are called that today."
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