Hopkins Co TX - Old Tarrant by J. W. Shook

From: June E. Tuck 1224be@neto.com>
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From the historical files of June E. Tuck, who does not validate or dispute
any historical facts in the article.



Old Tarrant by J. W. Shook

1925

To News-Telegram

I was very much interested in reading the article of Miss Cumming concerning
Old Tarrant in the earlier days. It certainly was good. In reading, my mind
ran back some what to some of the incidents she refers to.

I was as a boy mighty well acquainted with the Bob Hargrave referred to, also
the circuit rider, Shook, who was my father. When he was preaching at Tarrant,
the family lived at Sulphur Bluff, which was also the home of Uncle Bob
Hargrave, as he was called. Uncle Bob was a very unique character; he
undertook more different enterprises with less success than any most any man
you ever saw, although he generally accomplished what he wanted to do but it
would not in the end profit him. For instance, in his day he had at Sulphur
Bluff a store, a mill where he ground corn and wheat, a foundry to make
skillets and dog iron. And I am about to forget the blacksmith and wagon shop.
They made wagons There all boisd’arc, except. The irons. I feel sure that some
of them are in use now. Just a few years back one of the Hargrave boys had one
of them. With reference to the blacksmith shop, I had a little experience
there. We lived close to it. Uncle Bob was a man who wanted to see everybody
work, so he told me if I would blow the bellows for him he would learn me to
be a blacksmith, so I just very proudly took hold of the handle and shot that
blaze high and dry. But being proud of my job I whistled and sang while at
work, but that was thing Uncle Bob did not like. He said I made too much fuss.
So he caught up with his work in the shop and wanted to make a run at the
foundry and did not need me there, and he never called me back to blow the
forge for him. Therefore, I never made a blacksmith.

Now for an incident in connection with my father’s preaching in the courthouse
at Old Tarrant. I was there in company with Harmen Gregg, a boyhood friend of
mine, who lived at Sulphur Bluff. At the 11 o’clock service, when my father
was leading out pretty well on his sermon, a young man came walking in with a
new pair of red top boots, with his pants down on the inside of them, and a
pair of very large spurs on the boots with the bells on them. He was well
dressed, a real good-looking man, and he sat down in a conspicuous place where
he had plenty of room to display the boots and rattle the bells on the spurs.
So, in a very short time there were more people looking at him than were
listening to the sermon. That was something my father did not like; he wanted
the people to hear what he had to say. So he stopped preaching for a moment
and looked over at the young man and speaking very kindly to him, told him
that most of the people had seen his boots and heard the bells on the spurs
and those that had not could take a look at them after the preaching was over.
The boots came down and the bells ceased to rattle.

I was afraid that he would use one of the boots after preaching by putting it
up "sorter" in the rear of the way my father was walking; but he did not and
was always a very staunch friend of our family. He is dead now, but his little
sister living here in this city. My father did lots of preaching in his day,
mostly for the good he thought he could do. There were no financial matters
involved in those days. He never received an average of $150. per annum during
his whole ministerial career. It’s different now, but that is something I did
not intend to mention, for most everything has gone up in price. But I
sometimes think there has not always been an improvement in the quality.

There are many things that rush to my brain in connection with those earlier
days, but I will not burden your many readers further. J. W. Shook