Jackson County, Georgia - Chapter 4 (2 of 3 so headed), 1914

James Nash, father of William Nash, came with other earlysettlers to this county, where he followed farming nearly all his life. His industrious habits and good management soon enabled him to accumulate a considerable fortune ; and, being the soul of honor and a Christian gentleman without blemish, he made good use of it. His position at the poplar log showed his physical strength, and he was in every other way equally strong.

He finally settled about four miles below Commerce, on the Clarkesville road, where he built the best and most elegant residence then in the county. It afterwards became a public inn and was favorably known to the traveling public both far and near. This house and all the improvements on the place were totally destroyed by a cyclone on Feb. 19, 1884. His daughter, Miss Mary Nash, was fatally wounded and some of the family of his grandson, C. T. Nash, who then lived there, were blown high up into the shade trees; but did not get seriously hurt.

Mrs. Margerette Thornton, who recently died in Texas at the age of 100 years, was James Nash's daughter, and widow of Micajah Thornton, who was born near old Etoho church before it became Oconee.

The celebrated Gabriel Nash, Esq., who died in Madison County many years ago, was James Nash's son and a pupil of William T. Brantly near John Borders' mill, now the Jackson mill. Perhaps a friendly controversy which took place between the teacher and pupil may be worth repeating. Walker 's dictionary was then used, and one day the teacher gave out the word "phthisic." When it had reached Gabriel no one had spelled it, and he bawled out "t-i-z-i-c, tizic." The teached shook his head and finally had to spell it for his class.

In after years, when Gabriel Nash was a leading lawyer at the bar and such men as Howell and Tom Cobb dreaded his biting sarcasm and his bold assaults, he had a case in court which, in some way, involved the estate of a man who had died with the phthisic. In making out his briefs it became necessary for him to use the name of the disease with which the man died. Though frequently used, he invariably wrote the word "tizic." Judge Charles Dougherty, a man who always insisted on doing everything precisely right, was on the bench, and ordered Mr. Nash to change his spelling.

Mrs. James Nash, nee Miss Margerette Long, was loved and honored by all the people. No being lived, however obscure or mean, that she failed to treat kindly. She was a near relative of Dr. Crawford W. Long, but she died before he became famous. She and her husband sleep the sleep of the good in plain view of the desolate spot which was once their pleasant home.

Robert Wilson, son of George Wilson, Sr., was the first boy born within the present limits of Jackson County and the first native citizen to leave it. Like his father and brothers, he was a giant in size ; and being a blacksmith, the strength in his arm was enormous. He forged all the iron work that was used in the old jail at Jefferson. In this he was assisted by James Goode, the first man ever confined within the walls which he had labored to make strong. He was afterwards hung for the murder of his child, which a woman required him to put out of the way before she would marry him. It is all well and much better that that

The above is a remarkable paragraph, which I failed to notice until after it was written. First son born ; first to leave county ; first substantial jail; first prisoner; first murderer legally punished; first hung.

Robert Wilson married Miss Aseneath Winburn, whose father lived near Black's Creek church. A little more than a year ago I passed by the old Winburn burying ground and paused to think of the changes which the ever onward rush of years reveals to the eyes of an old man. Elberta peach trees and cotton were growing all over and around the graves of an entire family, except one son, Elsworth Winburn, who fell at the side of David Crockett at the battle of the Alamo, Texas, March 6, 1836. As the song says, "What one man loses another one gains."

Soon after Robert Wilson married he went with his bride to Tennessee, and I have never heard anything more of him, except that he lived in the neighborhood of James K. Polk, and left many descendants there.

Drury Gee was by direct descent an Englishman of pure Saxon blood. He came to this county from North Carolina in 1785 as a follower of George Wilson and Notty Gore, and settled near Black's Creek church, now in Madison County. He was a revolutionary soldier and fought under Washington all the way from the crossing of the Delaware to Yorktown. He belonged to the same regiment that boasted of the names of Jackson Clark, Jacob Bankston, John Harris, Dale Clover and Henry Therrauld. When Tumbling Shoals was threatened with an enemy, Drury Gee flew to the aid of his friends there with all possible speed, and was always an ally of first importance. The news of the invasion of Wautowauto did not reach him in time for the battle among the trees ; but he was at the burying of Dr. Therrauld and wept over the loss of his dear friend and fellow soldier at a "time that tried men's souls."

Because of his powers and endurance he was called "The Iron Man," and he well merited the title. Though of medium size, his muscles bulged from his arms in great, cord-like knots; and for this reason he was always one of the team of men who carried big logs. Foot-racing was a leading sport of the times, and as dearly loved by Drury Gee as the smoker loves his pipe. When "on the turf," as he called it, he was never known to be in the rear. When the news of Wautowauto's descent upon Tumbling Shoals reached him he arrived at the place on foot, carrying a heavy rifle twelve miles, in advance of two boys, James Wilson and Samuel Gore, who followed him on horseback. Before sundown of that day every available man and boy at and around the Groaning Rock settlement was at Tumbling Shoals, all heavily armed. It was thus that the scattered inhabitants of the country flew to the assistance of each other, and they always went to hurt.

Mr. Gee was eminently a man of peace and a gentleman ; but it was dangerous business "to tread upon his toes." This was never known to be tried but one time. John Shoemaker, a very large man and a self-styled "bully," though not a citizen, while passing through the country heard of Drury Gee. He sent him word that he could either whip him or throw him down in a rough and tumble scuffle. They met and Gee told him that he would throw him down first and thrash afterwards. This made the "bully" mad, and they went together with a clash. At the second pass Gee threw him on his back so violently that, though he tried, he could not turn over. Gee then carried him to a heavy rail fence, put his head between two rails that would not choke him, took off one of his heavy shoes and gave him a good "spanking." The man soon began to beg for mercy. Gee deliberately released him, they shook hands and parted in peace. Shoemaker never returned to the settlement. This was characteristic of the times - no pistol, no knife, no threats - nothing but the closing of the fingers together.

Some years after this, while Drury Gee was cutting sprouts in his new ground, he felt a sharp pain in the big toe of his right foot. He gave it little attention at first, but in a few days his entire foot began to swell and turn blue. Sharp pains began to shoot up his leg and the swelling increased to an alarming extent. The nearest physician was Dr. Hopson, at Jefferson. Sar^uel Gore, son of Notty, and the boy that went with James Wilson to

Tumbling Shoals, being a bold and reckless rider, went after him. In due time, the doctor arrived, and after examination decided that amputation of the leg was the only chance to save his life. Mr. Gee consented. The knives and saws, the bandages, thread and needles, usually carried by a surgeon in those days were placed on a shelf in plain view of the sufferer. James Montgomery, Hiram Bingham, Notty Gore and James Wilson were the special attendants. They placed Mr. Gee on a heavy, rough table which stood near the shelf. Everything was ready. The reader may think that all those strong men were there to hold Mr. Gee ! Oh, no, not that ! They were there to wait on the surgeon, and Mrs. Gee and others were there to wait on them. Crawford W. Long had never been heard of; anesthesia was unknown.

Mr. Gee is pale ; but his eyes which had faced so many dangers unmoved, are calm and glittering. A death-like silence reigns, the first incision is made, the cutting goes on and on, the arteries are tied and tied, the bone is reached ! The cruel saw begins its work, slowly, slowly, carefully, lower and lower go its slurring teeth, all grim with blood and marrow; and lower, lower still, until it ceases to move - stop ! - the leg is off !

Mr. Gee's leg was well in reasonable time, and for twelve months he went on one crutch as cheerful and determined as he had ever been. But, it is painful to ever write it - his left big toe became affected as the other had been. The disease spread as before, and again amputation became necessary. The same surgeon performed the operation as successfully as before. When Dr. Hopson thought his patient out of danger, he playfully asked Mr. Gee what he intended to do. "Lie here and kick up my heels, I reckon," was the dry reply. A legless man kicking up his heels !

Mr. Gee lived only a few years after his last leg was cut off. He was buried at Black's Creek church, and "He whose memory deserves a temple," now sleeps in a grave unmarked. In 1854 two small stones indicated the exact spot, but in 1880 even these

Samuel Gore, already incidentally mentioned, was not remarkable for anything except his physical strength and the bold, reckless way he had of doing things. As the escapade he had on the night he went for Dr. Hopson will illustrate this feature, it may be given here.

As a matter of fun and daring, Sam rode the Shaddon steer, and when he reached Curry's creek a little below the present rock dam, where the banks were about thirty feet apart, the steer, becoming shy of the rippling water as it glittered in the moonshine, utterly refused to cross. Sam wore a heavy, homemade iron spur on each heel, and digging these into the sides of the animal, he made the opposite bank at three jumps. Having no mane to hold by, he digged his spurs still deeper to keep from falling off. This so enraged the steer that he threw up his tail to an angle of about ninety degrees and he and his rider went dashing through the little town like they had been shot out of a cannon. It was in the early part of the night but Mrs. Lucy Hyde happened to see them, and having a milk cow about the same color of the steer, she hastened to tell her husband that, "The devil had taken her cow and gone off on her back like a streak of lightning!" Others had heard "the rippet," as they termed the stampede, and this, when added to Mrs. Hyde's somewhat exaggerated story, created much excitement.

The rider, being strong and athletic, after making a wide circuit, finally brought the steer under control. When he reached the court-house on his return the square around it was thronged with people trying to find an explanation of what they heard, and Mrs. Hyde saw. The explanation was easy, a hearty laugh went around, and Sam hastened to the doctor's office.

This doggerel, sang to a lively air, became popular all over the county; and as late as 1836, v^^hen a company of volunteers was goint West to help carry the Indians avray, all sang this song as they went through Jefferson. Sam Gore himself, and his neighbor, the ill-fated Levi Quintius Curtius McGinnis, vi^ere members of the company and joined in the singing of the song.

Some Gore died near Ross' Landing, now Chattanooga, and though rough in some of his ways, he had a kind heart and was a true and faithful friend. McGinnis returned, and I was a pupil in his school nine days.

Jim Beasly, the fiddler, though of fair moral character, was a good-for-nothing sort of fellow. He was so kind-hearted that like Diogenes, he had "nothing for himself and everything for others." A good fiddler for the times, he played at public gatherings, and for that he generally received good wages. Though he seldom worked long at one place, he was industrious, and gave good satisfaction. A bird of passage, he finally disappeared and no one knew from whence he came nor whither he went.

Thomas Perry, Sr., came to this county in the early years of the last century. He was a small man of quiet manners and of unquestioned good character. Though he sometimes took his dram, he never drank to excess, and lived on friendly terms with all his neighbors. He was one of those rare men who joked and took jokes without offense to either party. A man could not be found who disliked him, nor was he ever known to speak disrespectfully of another. "Geewhillicans" was his favorite by-word, and introductory to almost everything he said. An oath seemed to rasp and grate upon his feelings like a saw across his breast, and he would not remain where one was uttered. He was certainly a fine character and worthy of all praise.

He settled one and a half miles south of Commerce, where he opened a farm, made a good living by his own industry and by attending to his own business without any interference whatever with the business of others.

He was a neighbor of George Wilson, Sr., and one of the men who labored faithfully to alleviate the suffering condition of the strange old man who died at his grave. For several years be- fore his death he was confined to his bed with the shaking palsy, which, at a ripe old age, wore out the finely woven tissues of his life. He died as he had lived, without an enemy, and was buried near his home on a plat of ground selected by himself. Mrs. J. W. Lord of Jefferson is his granddaughter.

Notty Gore came to this country from Ireland and settled near where J. J. Dunson, grandson of William Dunson, now lives. As his place at the logrolling showed, he was one of the men of the times. Though disposed to be peaceful, he was a terrible antagonist when aroused; but this never occurred on his own motion. Though a true Celt, he soon became Americanized in all respects except two or three. He never did become reconciled to reptiles and ghosts. He was more afraid of snakes and lizzards than he was of the wolves and panthers that were his near neighbors. "Ather Sent Pathric must come to Ar-mer-i-ca, or Notty Go-re must go back to I-re-land, " was his common saying. Notty was one of the two men who saw the "ghost" at the grave during the first night the white-haired old man stayed there.

"Faith an' begorra," exclaimed Notty, "that's George come afther me, an' I'm not er go in' at all, at all!" and off he went at full speed. Though so strong, he was clumsy, and could run neither far nor fast. James Wilson, who was on his way to see about the strange old man, met Notty about the time he became exhausted and fell sprawling on the ground.

"Jamie! Jamie! och! honey, me darlint! it's yer fa-ther that's afther me, an' I'm all not wantin' ter go!" said the Irishman, as he lay panting, flat on his back.

Finally, becoming pacified, James and his brother, George AVilson, Jr., went home with Notty and many good laughs went around. Though so nervous about such minor things, Notty Gore was as brave as a lion when facing real danger. To illustrate this, the following incident may be given :

William Sailers, the ten-year old son of Christopher Sailers, Sr., was attacked by a gang of wolves in hearing of Mr. Gore. As usual, he had with him a very heavy hickory club which he called "his shillalah," and, in his hands, was a formidable weapon. Judging by the noise he knew that the wolves had brought something to bay and he ran as fast as he could to see what was the matter. He soon discovered a little boy sitting some seven or eight feet above the ground, in the crotch of a small dogwood tree, and that six or seven wolves were jumping and snapping at him. Without hesitation he joined battle ; and though he was bitten in several places and his clothes badly torn, he killed every one of the wolves with his terrible club and stamped upon their tails. Old hunters said that if you mashed the tail of an animal none of its species would bother you afterwards. Hence the vulgar saying - "mashed his tail." The shepherd dog seems to know something of this "tailology." The first snap is at the tail of his enemy, and, generally, that ends the dispute.

The battle over, Mr. Gore placed his back against the dogwood, the little boy crawled upon his broad shoulders, and in that position was carried home. The older generation of the Sailers family thought of Notty Gore as the world, for less reason, thinks of Alexander the Great.

At that time, Mr. Gore was the only member of the Roman Catholic church in the country and said that if he had not counted his beads that morning he never would have gained the victory in the wolf fight.

He became a chair-maker by trade, and by using a foot-lathe, turned and made the first split-bottomed chairs seen in the county. They were large and heavy, and made to last for generations. His wife, Oeschellee Gore, died a few years after reaching her wilderness home, and left two children, Samuel and a little daughter, who soon followed the mother.

Many years after Notty Gore joined his wife and children where, Dante like, "few want to go, but going never to return" - and the Gore family was extinct in this country. For reasons that appear in the closing paragraphs of this narrative, he was buried at the side of his life-long friends, and at the very spot, reserved for the purpose, where the mysterious stranger died.

capture of Fort Lee in 1776. There they were taken prisoners, but soon after escaped, and, being cut oif from their command, they went to Philadelphia. While there they fell in love with the girls who afterwards became their wives. Wilson married Miss Martha Gevendoline Gailey, a native of Scotland, and Gore married her sister, Miss Oeschellee Gailey. Carrying their wives with them, they again entered the army in time to be in the battle of Brandywine.

At the battle of Monmouth they were both severely wounded, but the nursing of their "good angels," as they called their wives, finally saved their lives. However, they were not able to do active service again until a short while before the fall of Yorktown, which they reached the day after Cornwallis surrendered, Oct. 19, 1781. Like Othello, their "occupation was gone."

It is strange that these two soldiers, who had never heard of Clark, Bankston, Harris, Clover, Therrauld, or Gee should almost tread in the footprints of these strangers from Yorktown to the same wilderness in Georgia. Was this a coincidence - a chance, or was it a single turn in the whirligig of time which has, turn after turn, brought Jackson County to adopt the motto - "Onward! and to the Front?"

Note: The foregoing is a fine illustration of "old times on the farm." Many of our older readers can remember when the logrollings were an annual occurrence on all the farms in the spring of the year. Even the little "brown jug," the dance, quilting and maybe the wedding at some of them, can be called to mind. - Ed.