 The Sherman Courier
Wednesday, August 15, 1917 section 3, pg. 1 50th Anniversary edition WHAT A 16-YEAR-OLD BOY SAW IN SHERMAN IN 1861 Dick Hopson Tells How City Looked on Christmas Day Fifty-Six Years Ago The following matter was put in type by Mr. Dick Hopson from memory on the night of December 31, 1880, and was printed in The Courier the next day, December 31, 1880. It relates to conditions as they existed in Sherman in 1861. Mr. Hopson put this story in type without copy, just as it came to his memory. It has been 37 years since he "set" this story and its conditions 19 years before that of which he tells. Nineteen years in the future would seem like a long time hence, but looking backward it is but a fragment; sufficient, however, to dull the best recollections, and blot out from the tablet of memory many pleasant memories as time and progress have removed the familiar landmarks that greeted the writer's gaze as for the first time he beheld the public square of Sherman on December 25th, 1861. But one business house now remains that then adorned the square, the three story brick occupied by the postoffice. It was the occupied by A.M. Alexander as a dry goods store and was the best business house in North Texas. Behind the counter could be found our ancient friends, Calvin Jackson, Capt. S.B. Allen, now of Bonham, and Doctor Cargil of New York, who afterwards ran a tallow candle factory at Jefferson for the Southern Confederacy. Next to this building on the south stood the old "Red Store," so-called partly because of its original color and partly for the same reason. Snider called his boy Hans - "pecause dot vash hes name." This was the first business built in Grayson County. Erected originally at Preston when the place seemed destined to become a great trading point, it had witnessed the various fluctuations in the price of corner lots in that burg, and outliving its usefulness there, it was moved to Sherman and used as a warehouse by Alexander. Where Metz Brothers hide house now is, stood a residence occupited by Gen. Hugh F. Young, whose son, Capt. Wm. H. Young, had just left with his company, belonging to the gallant 9th Texas infantry, for the seat of war. On the Moody corner there was an old blacksmith shop, and next to it a small box house occupied jointly by John Dorchester, tinner, and Shaw & Allen, gunsmiths. The one anxious to work, but sorely taxed for materials, for Uncle Abe's blockade had already cut short the tin supply; the others unwillingly doing all they could to arm the beardless youths then rushing to the sanguinary field. Dr. John Brooke's drug store stood where Howard's harness shop now stands, where the good Doctor's familiar face and peculiar whistle did as much to make Sherman Sherman as anything in it. The next house was a bakery, with the ceiling painted in blue and whites squares, like the checkered pavement of Solomon's temple. Here Waggoner suplied the boys with "pies and cakes" for the uniform price of ten cents - about the only article for which a dime could be spent in town. Then after a vacant space came Ed Sacra's livery stable, where Dumas' stable now is. Here, after school hours, our delecate friend, Jim Sacre, could be seen mounting "Sheep" - his pony - for a ride around town. Where T.J. Patty now is stood a frame building occupied by H.S. Jacobs, dry goods and groceries, with Arthur Bates and Wolf Estricher as clerks. South of this building stood the Sherman House, where Jim Dowell made man and beast comfortable. Opposite stood the wooden jail, little used, for those were the days when thieves were hung when caught, and stealing was about all the crime known. Across Jones Street stood, and still stands, the Ben Moore blacksmith shop, where "Uncle Dave" and Arnold made the sparks fly from morning til night. Where C.W. Moore now is, John Nelms sold liquor, from which establishment he sent forth a lot of intelligent boys to be drunkards and criminals. On Richards corner good John Richards kept dry goods, groceries, iron and drugs. Joe Smith was behind the counter, and when to the inquiry as to the price of some article he answered "two bits," we were in utter ignorance to what amount these two words referred. The East Side was generally filled with store houses, but most of them were closed. "Grim visaged war" had called away the owners and salesmen to battle for what they thought right, and many of them never returned to open their shutters. G. & S. Heilbroner kept dry goods and groceries about where Richard's drug store now is, while Gabe ran a "picture gallery," in dependently in the second story of W.L. Holder's building, where he continued to "secure the shadow ere the substance fade" until Quantrell's men two years later threw all his apparatus into the street and Gabe on top of them. In the center of the block stood the "iron post grocery," the vilest hole in town, where M.W. Joplin and his son, Buck, rules supreme. Here was House Holt's headquarters, and here Warren Lawless (a noted desperado afterwards) graduated. Here a few days before, the two Freeman boys and another unfortunate, were killed in a drunken brawl. On the Levy corner, Dr. L. Kelly held forth as merchant, although the sign, "J.C.D. Blackburn" stood high above on the parapet. Here, a few days later, we saw the first specimen of Confederate money. A stranger tendered a twenty in payment for goods, and the patriotic Doctor promptly returned the change in gold and silver. Immediately south of this building was a log house, the first house built in Sherman. About 14x20, with a rough floor, it had served as a bar, grocery, dry goods place, and perhaps hotel and courthouse. Its glory had departed, however, when we knew it first, and it was doing duty as a warehouse. But the old Shermanite never wearied of telling of the stirring events it had witnesses - such as seeing "Doc" Wilson and four others throwing crack-a-loo with double eagles before the bar, which was constructed by letting a plank extend through the house from crack to crack, on which was mounted a barrel, from which whiskey, brandy, rum, gin, wine and champagne coule be drawn with perfect satisfaction to the bar-keeper, and the crowd HAD to be satisfied. Down Houston street a little way could be found the merry English cobbler, Fitzgibbons, who patched the understanding of, and made fun for, the boys. He was once elected to the office of Justice of the Peace, becuase he could play Hamlet, and on the grounds of general incompetency. While acting in that capacity an anxious couple presented themselves before him and requested to be married. He told them to hold up their hands, and swore them to perform all the dutied pertaining to their stations to the best of their knowledge and ability. We have no doubt but they did. Opposite hung the well-remembered sign, "F.W. Sumner, Watchmaker," the owner of which was soon compelled to seek a place of safety, within the Federal lines on account of his political opinion. On the Schneider corner were the curious Polanders, Brown & Kunningham, who freighted their goods on Mexican carts from San Antonio, and treated their little dog "Chiquito" better than themselves, and who put pants on their pony during a norther to keep him warm. On the Fowler corner Curtis Blackwood kept a family grocery (at ten cents a drink), adding a few other necessary articles of family consumption. Handsome Bob Jones was behind the counter, and received the first half-dollar we spent in Sherman. (We didn't get five drinks, ti was for one quart of pecans, ten cents, and half-a-dozen little Arkansas apples, forty cents. With this munificent spread we treated Russ Allen, now of Whitesboro.) The old Anderson House, on the north side, was kept by Byrd Anderson and his good wife. On the first of January, however, he was succeeded by Uncle Ben Christian as landlord. The remaining houses on the North Side were tenantless, except some law offices, of which we remember Woods & Diamond, C.C. Binkley, G.A. Evers, and W.N. Mayrant. Dr. Lively also had his office here. North Travis had no business houses, but a few shingles were hung out there. We remember those of Drs. M.Y. Broskett, W.E. Saunders, and S.T. Hunter. It was already laying claims to the fashionable quarter, however, for here Joel W. Hagee, "fashionable tailor," held forth, and Uncle Ben Jones' shingle hung out, but his shears were idle and his goose cold, for Uncle Ben was off to the war. Here, also in a 12x14 building was the postoffice, where Wm. Coffey as postmaster sorted his two bushels of mail matter weekly with very little trouble. Aside from the square there were one of two never-to-be-forgotten institutions. On the lot where R.G. Hall's residence now is, stood Bomar & Son's blacksmith and wagon shop, where as good work was done as skill and muscle could produce, and where Tom Bomar, paint brush in hand, was painting blue roses on prairie schooners and dreaming of being a Raphael or a Michael Angelo. This dream has never been quite accomplished, but we believe that when Tom made a good printer out of himself, a better painter was spoiled. Sherman had two famous mills in those days. C. C. Fitch's on Montgomery street and Wm. Stewart's on the present site of Dr. J.H. Henry's residence. They were both run by ox power and had a marvelous capacity, being able, both combined, to grind as much in a week as either of our mills now could grind in a day. Two churches testified to the piety of Sherman, and one of them being a "union" church, bore witness of good will. The Southern Methodist church looked very much as it does today, only the building was new. No carpets adorned the aisles to break the heavy clink-clank of the cowboy's spurs, no organ or choir assisted the congregation to sing the Great Redeemer's praise, yet under the ministry of Rev. J.H. McLean, who the had charge of the flock, we have no doubt there was as much leaven in the lump then as now. The old Union Church, which stood where the Masonic Temple ought to be had seen its best days, but was still used by the several denominations. Revs. Mr. Haynes, Presbyterian; J.R.Masters, Baptist; and Dr. B.F. Hall, Christian, alternated Sundays there, and there were frequent protracted meetings going on within its in unpainted walls. Sometimes, on a "Thursday night nearest the full moon" a slight disturbance to such assemblages was occasioned by hearing from above the ominous gavel-taps, shuffling of feet and muffled falls, indicating that the disciples of Hiran, were "working" overhead. The awe created in our boyish mind by those peculiar sounds was very great and the curiosity excited by that long, well-like box that came down in the northwest corner was never satisfied until, with the help of a few other brave boys, a plank was pried off from the same and the mystery surveyed. We confidently expected to see a tailed and hoofed imp in there and smell brimstone, too; but we found only a rock a "rouch ashler" quietly resting on the bottom, while over the top hung an iron pulley. Years afterward we found out the use of this, when stripped naked and tied by the heels, we were lowered into a similar box filled with mad hornets and bois d'arc brush, where we swore to keep inviolable all the secrets of that "sublime degree." Nor was Sherman deficient in good schools at that time. The Odd Fellows Male and Female Institute, presided over by F.D. Pincer, and assisted by L.H. Davis (better known as "Old Bally") and Mrs. Burrel Smith, with Miss Kate Bradley as music teacher, had an attendance while Prof. H. Lamb conducted a prosperous school about where Mrs. Burns' residence now stands. Sherman had been blessed with many newspapers, but at this time only one sheds abroad its rays. The Grayson Monitor had been retired from the active list by the blockade and poverty, and the editor had gone into the army; E.J. Foster's old Patriot had just made its last issue, leaving the Sherman Journal alone in its glory. It was published by Whitaker & Crabtree, the one a Vermont Yankee, the other a "Tar Heel." It was issued on manilla foolscap or wall paper, as the materials could be scraped up; Whitaker making the ink and writing the editorials, Crabtree setting most of the type, though he occasionally varied the monotony of his life by getting drunk and whipping his wife. John Piner, the newsy new man of the Bonham News, was working at the case and cutting his journalistic eye-teeth by writing some readable articles for the paper under the nom-de-plume of "Peur Dicens." The Journal was eagerly read by its few subscribers and filled it place very well. A little while after this date it published an account of the killing of our present townsman, Col. M. Leeper, who was thought to have been murdered by the Indians at Fort Cobb. The Colonel turned up in a day or two, however, and spoiled the best obituary notice Whitaker ever wrote. Of course the Journal was loyal to Jeff Davis, but when it suspended the next summer, Whitaker made his way through the lines and died storming the Vicksburg trenches in which Jesse Loving and others of his old neighbors were eating mule meat and trusting to Providence. Such are a few recollections of Sherman nineteen years ago. They are drawn only from memory, and are necessarily imperfect and incomplete. Every name, place, and incident mentioned has a history of itself that, if properly presented, would form interesting chapters in the life of Sherman. Many changes have taken place - in fact it has all changed - perhaps not twenty men remaining here now who were here then, and we can remember only three or four houses that remain unchanged. Of course all these changes are for the better, but Sherman will never be knit together again by the universal band of friendship and hospitality it was then. Every man was your neighbor in the fullest sense of the word, people would sleep with their doors unlocked without fear of being robbed, and if a man went to church or to a dance in a flannel shirt he was not ostracized by "sassiety," but his "two-bits" was just as acceptable when the hat was passed around as if he wore a silk tie as big as a table-cloth and had enough canvas in his standing collar to make a wagon-sheet. We intended to describe a ball we attended here during that winter in which Giles Porter with his fiddle, and Jim Fitch with his banjo, made the music; where they began at the unfashionable hour of seven and danced all night; where the hostess passed around pies and cookies in the siftor, and the host had a jug that wouldn't run dry - but we have told enough of "what a boy saw in Sherman nineteen years ago." Sherman History Susan Hawkins © 2024 If you find any of Grayson County TXGenWeb links inoperable, please send me a message. |