REMINISENCES OF THE PAST, Smith County, TX ***************************************************************** Copyright. All rights reserved. http://usgwarchives.net/copyright.htm Submitted by Leroy B. Butler, leroybutler@hotmail.com 16 May 2001 ***************************************************************** REMINISENCES OF THE PAST "Some Biographies of Old Settlers." Historical, Personal and Reminiscent. Volume I By Sid S. Johnson, 1900: Sid S. Johnson, Publisher, Tyler, Texas Chapter VI - Pages 26-30 Let us take on a retrospective view of Tyler and Smith county. Time has wrought wonderful changes. Men have appeared upon the stage of life, played their part, passed away as the Cycle of Time gathered up the sheaves. Memory, unconsciously, takes a part in the melodrama of life and connects the different acts together; will continue to do so until the last curtain of life drops. Then to realms only seen through Faith and Hope, as painted by the Great Sculptor that controls the Universe of mind, air, and matter. Fifty years ago Tyler was a small country village, now a little city of 10,000 people. Tyler was new and rustic then, laying the foundation for the future she played in civilization, education, religion and politics. It was a big-hearted social people then. Judge Stephen Reeves, Geo. W. Chilton, Dick Hubbard, Tom Selman, were plodding in the front as lawyers. A little later John C. Robertson who made law a success. Wm. S. Walker, a staunch citizen, a leader in church and good morals. John M. Paterson, A. W. Ferguson, Ira Ellis and Geo. Yarbrough in the front limes of commercial life. Dr. J.W. Davenport was in a good professional practice. Judge Ham and Thos. J. Hayes were on a land trade. Mart Malone kept on the corner. Adrian and Cowsar justices of the peace and John C. Bulger lawful constable. The trio kept the scales of justice on an even balance. John Holman was the village wag; Tom Albertson was a modest baker who kept excellent cake, beer, and ginger pop; Bony Ellis discussed problematical legal questions, elucidating the same with grace and fluency, that would require the judicial mind off Judge O. M. Roberts to consult his text books, Judge Harper would interest the boys with his "thrilling adventures" back in old Tennessee. The jolly Dick, Tom and Lige Meadow would tarry a few days with the boys. Capt. F. N. Gary and Prof. J. John Carter impressed the youth that they were bosses of the situation in "learning the young idea how to shoot", with impressive force and "smarting" effect. The boy took his whipping, went home and said not a word about it for fear another "climax" just in the rear of the happy homestead would be "encored" on the gentle zephyrs of the evening. Things have progressed since then; the rod has lost its domestic influence and Solomon's wisdom has never reached the era of the last years of the 19th century. The old fossil is an egotistical fool who attempts to discount this age of brilliancy and Christian advancement. Hardy Holman built the Holman house-an immense structure for that day, having upstairs-and kept a plain English tavern. The dining room was the dancing hall-two sets at a time-was the place to "tip the light fantastic toe", cut the pigeon-wing amid the merry cotillion, or the grand old Virginia reel, our fathers danced. Hardy Holman, a 300 pounder, and Dick Hubbard, now the diplomat statesman, often led the dance. Yes, there were Bryan Marsh, Tom Wiggins, George Chilton, Miller Johnson, Pat and Ben Beaird, Van Hamilton, John P. Smith, Jim Douglas, Frank Hayes and others who kept time with "flying feet" to the sweet strains of the violin in the hands of the natural born musician, Dr. Jim McBride. Dr. Henry McBride was there too with smiles, and talked about the practical side of life in the "same old way". George and Jimmie Adams would watch the merry dancing; Cal Pierce, Dr. and Jim Warren were there; Dave Crow told many good stories and Alf Davis played the gallant. The Swann's were there, Elam, Tom and Jack, full of business and the very soul of honor, and others too numerous to mention here. The old-timers enjoyed life, not so much amusement as now, but more wholesome and better relished. Society had not drawn the distinction as now. Property cut no figure in it-honesty was the standard-the striped stocking dude had not struck town then-and it is well he didn't. Everybody talked plain English with a strong Southern accent-no swellish lisping to mar the pleasure of the occasion. Life with its hopes and pleasures moved smoothly along. The evening bugle sound of the incoming stage attracted more attention than the locomotive whistle of today. The handsome matrons and lovely damsels added zest and happiness to the evening party-excuse me-entertainment. The moments went in rapid flight-the sweet women and pretty girls made it so. The laughter is hushed in the mist of the fleeting years, and most of them have passed on and crossed the river, but still are "of the blessed" memory of the years that are numbered with the dead past. Fleeting forms are recollected and the age of time affects the physical man, but lends brightness to the cultivated mind in the coming years. Boren, Goodman, Long, Seeton, Erwin, Williams, Bell, Rush, McKinley, Lott, Reuter, and a host of others moved on life's scene in the time of which I write. They build well and handed down honest names as heirlooms for those to follow them. What a glorious heritage and a noble line of proud ancestors-proud of their honesty, proud of their manly virtues.