Vernon County, Missouri, Memoirs of Lydia Hughes Messer Terrill ==================================================================== Copyright. All rights reserved. http://www.usgwarchives.net/copyright.htm This file was contributed for use in the USGenWeb Archives by: © Carolyn Whaley Vosburg ==================================================================== Memoirs of Lydia Hughes Messer Terrill "Early in the 18th century a man came from Germany by the name of Messer and settled in one of the Southern States, either Georgia or Alabama. The English language was hard for him to acquire and when he died, an old man, still spoke it brokenly. He married in this country, and of this union three children were born: Robert, William and and daughter, Elizabeth. Later he lost is wife by death, then he married again. The second wife bore him a boy baby in his old age, whom they named David Allen. I think of them as Christians, having named their baby for that great man of God. In a few years that young woman found herself a widow with no means of support and a helpless child to care for. Little David was now six years old. In her desperation, no doubt, and on the advice of those whom she regarded as her friends, she decided to apprentice him to a man, who should care for him properly, educate and settle on him at his majority a certain property consideration. Accordingly, he was "Bound Out", in the language of the day, which meant if in the hands of unprincipled men and women -- a veritable slave, with no will of his own. This man, Jenkins, and his wife, Sallie, proved to be this type of people, with a large family of their own, several boys and quite poor and a small, run-down farm in that mountain country, located in a cove, mountains on either side. Their principal crop, cotton, which in that day, before the cotton gin, must be separated from the seed by hand was an endless job; then carded at home by hand, spun and wove on a clumsy loom, also handmade, furnished almost the entire clothing for the family, as well as linens for the home--such as towels, tablecloths, ticking for the beds, feathers and straw--mattresses were unknown. Thus, we find the housewife a busy woman--the more slaves she had, the more work to provide the scant clothing they wore. The husband in the Jenkins family was a ne'er-do-well, I imagine, who left the care of the children up to the busy, nervous wife. His only care was to see that more babies were added to the home at close intervals. Too poor to own slaves, she depended upon the boys to help carry on the affairs of the household. Little David came in for a large share of this, especially the care of the younger children. He was never permitted to eat at the table with the family. The scraps were dumped into a black pot and if anything he could eat, he was at liberty to fish it out. He said his appetite was never satiated, always hungry. They lived on the plainest of food, cornbread, plenty of it, which he fed to the little Jenkins day and night, yet, if he took one bite of it they reported to their cruel mother, who called him into account. He never was taken with the family anywhere. They would often visit on Sunday, but he was always left alone in the home. He was to be sent to school a certain number of months each year--this was entirely evaded. They sent him one day when a small boy with only one garment on, a kind of long, home-made cotton shirt, called a slippet. The teacher sent him home because he was not properly dressed. That was his last day. He never had a pair of shoes. While the winters were mild there, no snow nor ice, yet, quite frosty at times. He was sent to the home of a kind, old lady, on such a morning. Her sympathy was aroused on seeing his little, cold, red feet and put a pair of socks on them. This aroused the ire of Sallie, who made him take them back to the dear, old lady. He said they always had biscuits on Sunday for breakfast. They did their cooking entirely on the fireplace as a cook stove was unknown in those days. They felt they must have bark to cook the biscuits with a light, quick heat on the the lid of the great oven or skillet. Accordingly, Dave (as they called him) was gotten up before dawn to go out into the woods and assemble this bark from dead trees and logs. Many times he would lie down on a big log and take a nap, always hungry and sleepy. "Sal", as he called her in after years, always saw to it that he was up as late as she was. She did much of her sewing after night, the only light a candle. She compelled this child to stand by her and hold the candle, when he nodded she would punish him, by slapping or beating him. She could have set her candle on the table. One humane man who knew how this child had been treated through the years, when he was older, used to see him when he knew he was alone and insist that he leave the place. However, David was afraid to go as she (Sallie) had told him they would follow him wherever he went, bring him back and mete out terrible punishment on him. He was a clay in her hands. He took when she gave him and resented nothing. It is hard to think of a woman, a mother, being so unkind--a mother, having children of her own, being so unkind to a helpless orphan boy. He never saw his own mother again nor his brothers or sisters. Finally, on Sunday when he was 18 years old and alone, this good man came again to beg him to leave the place. Said he would take him for the next three years and fulfill the contract which the Jenkins so far had ignored. With promises of protection from bodily harm, he finally gathered his belongings under his arm, a shirt or so, and went with this man, who with his good wife was everything and more than he had promised to be. Despite the treatment he had received he had developed into a handsome, young man with a strong physique. They sent him to school. He wrote a fair had, read well, a fair speller and could figure anything he desired to know as a workman in wood along any line, not perhaps by rules laid down in the books, but got correct results by his methods. They gave him a new suit of clothes, a horse, saddle and bridle, a feather bed and, no doubt, many other things a young man would need in setting up a home, which he did soon after this. My father grew up a handsome, broad shouldered, young man, despite the hardships of his early life. He had a wealth of silky, brown hair, which combed back, revealed a high, white forehead, which as a child I always remember--a sign I now recall of great mental ability. A look of tenderness, which I shall never forget, always shone from his light blue eyes, his cheeks plump and rosy, his nose a perfect type. His mouth seemed it might have always been wreathed in a smile and his lips fitted it so perfectly--a temptation for a woman's kiss. A broad, well- filled chin had a deep dimple in it. Some six feet tall, must have weighed between 150-175 lbs., as he grew older weighed 200 or 220 lbs. I was always proud of my father and thought him so good looking. Is it any wonder that pretty, Elizabeth Brown, "Lizzie" as her husband and brothers fondly called her, fell in love with this handsome young David Messer, "Davie" as his wife and her brothers familiarly called him. Elizabeth Brown, a girl who lived in the same community, lost her mother when thirteen years of age, the father dying much earlier. An older sister, Eliza, the oldest of the children, married soon after the mother's death and went to Arkansas where she ever after made her home and our mother never saw her again. Her brother, William, visited in her home soon after the close of the Civil War (the last we ever knew of her, she had no children). The next older, Miles Brown, was a dear, sweet-spirited man, old enough to look after and care for himself after his mother's death. A younger brother, William, only other member of the family, left motherless at the tender age of six years, fell into good hands. A bachelor, Oliver Hughes, I believe was his name, lived with his aged mother and took this child, petted and spoiled him, thought him a wonderful boy. He left them and came to Missouri when a lad some eighteen years old. My mother lived in a family of smaller children--two girls and some boys. She worked hard, but they were kind to her. Later, as the little girls grew older, it was decided that my mother should make her home with another brother, whose wife was very frail. They had three or four boys and one of his nieces, whom my mother called "Puss", about my mother's age, lived in the home. She was very congenial and the two girls worked together, shared each other's joys, loved each other. This woman, Lydia Hughes, was kindness personified to these two orphan girls. My mother loved her so well she named her first born little girl Lydia Hughes Messer, in honor of her. (Elizabeth Brown) was a tall, lithe girl, with the world of expression in her blue, gray eyes, a Roman nose and brown hair that inclined to curl. She and my father were both as erect and straight as an arrow as long as they lived. She weighed about 200 lbs. when she passed away at 57 years. Raised in that Southern climate her complexion was beautiful, vied with the seashell in color--pink and white. They were about the same age. He never knew the exact date of his birth. Friends told him it was in the Spring of 1830, perhaps March. She was born Dec. 17, 1831. They were married New Year's Day 1852. Theirs was a beautiful wedding, out under the wide-spreading beech and chestnut trees on the beautiful lawn of her foster parent's home. One Sunday morning, the blue sky over-shadowed them and bright sunshine sent its flickering rays through the foliage of the trees. Here a large concourse of friends and neighbors met on this solemn, yet happy occasion, as this young couple pledged their troth, the one to the other of their faithfulness, loyalty, "Til death do us part"--a pledge lived unbroken through their years of married life. A minister of the Christian church, of which she was a member, read the vows. My mother was dressed in white and I recall with pleasure seeing that beautiful wedding gown, when a little girl, made of a material called jack-o-net. The bodice, Queen Anne style with a pointed bodice back and front. The fullness beautifully shirred in by hand, stays--many of them--held it in place, with short sleeves and full skirt. They set up house-keeping in the home of a widow, a friend of theirs. While there their oldest child, a boy, was born prematurely. My father was mechanically inclined and I remember as a child, I thought he could fix, mend or make anything; I recall when older, I realized I was not far wrong. I have heard him say that if he had been given a chance in school he would have made his mark in the field of engineering. He early found that nothing appealed to him as a young man, in the cotton growing section of that state with its depleted soil. An old man by the name of King with a large family of boys, who lived in that vicinity (Hall Co, GA), had only recently gone West to that new territory acquired by the U.S. by the Missouri Compromise. After some correspondence, cost 25 cents to send a letter, which was very slow in transit, he decided to take his young wife, leave all their friends they had acquired in their short lives, take their few belongings and go to Kingsville, Mo--the place the old man King and his sons had settled and given their name on arrival. This was in the winter of 1854. They traveled as far as possible by water, in a dirty, slowing-moving river boat. Such poor accommodations as compared with the beautiful steamers on our lakes and rivers of the present time. They came by stage-coach the remainder of the way, from St. Louis, I think. Kingsville is still a small town on Northern Pacific R.R. The dump for the road-bed, thrown up for it, as I remember, through the center of the town was less than a block from our home. However, all operations on it ceased with the beginning of the Civil War and it was not completed until after the days of Reconstruction. Had Kansas City been the river port it now is they could have come by water on the Mo. River and disembarked there and gone the short distance to Kingsville. As I recall, that great R.R. center of the present was only a small hamlet with a few scattered houses here and there. A one-room log cabin housed the couple on their first arrival--out a little distance from the town. There on the 23rd day of July 1855 a baby girl came to gladden their home. As I related earlier in this manuscript they named her Lydia Hughes in memory of the kind woman with whom my mother lived before her marriage. My mother's brothers, Miles and William, whom I have mentioned before, followed my parents to this new country of excitement. The discovery of gold in California in 1849, still at its height, these two young men decided to join one of the numerous caravans crossing the mountains and plains of the Western territory, carrying supplies to people who were flocking to the gold mines from everywhere. Accordingly, they supplied themselves with two yoke of oxen each and each a Prairie Schooner--as one of the Government built wagons was called. As I recall, the beds were rather boat-shaped, lower on the sides, but rather high on back and front, scooped upward. The younger one continued this trade until the Civil War drove him into the Southern Army, where he remained until its close. Later the older brother married the postmaster's daughter in Kingsville and farmed. A much older man than my father formed a business partnership and a friendship which lasted through the life of the older man. They built shops adjoining. My father did the woodwork and Mr. Hull, a blacksmith. They did all kinds of work--made wagons, plows, etc. My father made coffins and built houses. They got along very well. My mother kept boarders, sewed some, made men's clothing, suits as well as overcoats out of broadcloth. My father bought several lots in town, fenced it all with a board fence. We had a garden and lots back for stock--several cows, calves and yearlings. This takes us up to Jan. 1861. In March 1857 a beautiful little girl just 20 months younger to a day than I, came into our home with big, blue, laughing eyes, a high white forehead like her father's and brown curly hair, named her Laura. She died in Dec. 1867 of congestive chill, nine years old. On July 11, 1861, a little boy and girl (twins) were born to my parents. Named them Robert Franklin and Mary Frances. The little girl was tiny, but plump and grew fast, but Robert much larger was thin and never seemed well, died suddenly when five months old. Missouri was a hotbed for marauders during the Civil War. Gorilla warfare was carried on by both sides, jayhawkers, lone and band, genocides and pilferers. The James and Younger boys kept the inhabitants in a state of terror all the time. My father was a peace loving man and did not believe in war. His sympathy was with the people of the South, naturally, yet he believed in the Stability of the Union and would not fight against it. Finding he could not remain neutral, in danger of losing his life hourly, he decided to leave the state. He told my uncle he would give him everything he owned, except his wife and three little girls, for the yoke of oxen and the Gov't wagon. This suited my uncle as he was going into the army. Mr. Hull had a young brother-in-law in the same business with whom he made the same trade. So early in January 1861 in the dead of winter, these two men with their families started north. Mr. Hull had lost his first wife before we knew him and had married a Missouri girl much younger than himself. They had a baby boy less than one year old. My father drove the front wagon in which was all our bedding, clothing and the two families. Mr. Hull had a barrel of home-made kraut, one of home-made sorghum molasses, one of salt (hard to get in Missouri) and one of soft soap; all the meat and lard of the two families put up for the year. Probably some chairs and a folding leaf dining table my father had made, all I recall. We moved with ice and snow on the ground. We crossed the Mo. River on the Sibley Ferry, as well as I remember, a child about five and a half years old. When once in Kansas City we felt no danger. My father cut and sold cord wood in the city of Leavenworth, when first there, later farmed and did well. The soil was new and productive. He returned to Southwest Missouri (near Flat Rock) at the close of the war, bought 160 acres of land and lived there the rest of his life" Notes by Wm. Harold Whaley following account above: This was written by Lydia Messer Terrill, who lived to be 85 years. She probably wrote this about September, 1937 at the age of 82, having just moved from McAlester, Okla. to Tulsa, Okla. When she had retired at 65 from teaching 45 years and having no children, she made her home with her niece, Ruth Landes Griggs, for the remainder of her life. She kept alert physically and mentally and was a devoted Christian, belonging to the Baptist church and teaching a class of elderly ladies in McAlester, also Tulsa. She fell and broke her hip about three months before her death in Dec. 1940. The Messer family Bible records dates of events after 1861. Clara Messer Landes (Lydia's sister) was born Feb. 14, 1863 and passed away at the age of 69 years in Feb. 1932. Clara Landes was the mother of Ruth, Georgia, Lena, Guy, Ernest and Edwin (who drowned at age 11 years in the Osage River near Schell City, Mo). Excerpts from a letter to Kathryn Griggs Whaley from Lena Landes Blake, 18 Jan 1986, Silver Spring, Maryland: "I have expected to tell you, sometime ago, when you asked about Carolyn's inquiry, where Grandpa Messer was born, that I remember reading an old letter he wrote Aunt Lydia in answer to her same question. He indicated, as near as I can remember, that he and his sister were left orphans in one of the Southern States. I am not sure it was La., but they were separated and he was taken over by a family in Ga., who promised him educational advantages. It did not work out, however, for the woman in charge of her family of several children, saw to it that they attended school and he was kept at home to do the chores and work in the large garden. He became discouraged and decided to run away. When the family found out he had taken his few possessions, they ran after him, but could not overtake him. They began throwing stones and one hit one heal and left an injury that caused him trouble for several years as he never had medication it needed as he joined a work crew in order to earn a living. He was a big boy for his teen age years. Since school advantages did not come his way, he turned to books as he could afford them and became a pioneer in some things. One was using plaster for inside homes. He made the overland trip years later to a town outside Kansas City, to buy enough to plaster his home, in the community of Flat Rock, Mo., which was where Mama was reared. She told us how people came from all over Vernon County to see their house, there in Missouri, as plastering, bought in sacks, used only water for mixing and was easily applied, with walls lathed first, hiding many imperfections. The Baptist Church in that community was built with Grandpa Messer the architect. I remember it well as we attended that church until Papa and Grandpa died 4 days apart in our home. I was 5 and a half years old. One memory Grandpa cherished and loved to recall was the chance to meet and have a visit with his sister, as she and family crossed the Ferry of the Osage River, near Grandpa's family home. Mama recalled the happy event, as the two had not seen or heard from each other since they were separated as orphans, years before. An unsuccessful kidney operation in Nevada, Mo., the best medical service available in that pioneer day, left Grandpa an invalid in our family home. Grandma Messer died before I was born. Grandpa moved into our home where Mama had 5 children. He looked after Guy and me, spending hours in wholesome activities. He could not carry any of us, so he built a little wagon he could put Guy and me in and pull around.” Submitted 12/7/04 by: Carolyn Whaley Vosburg lynvos@sbcglobal.net