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Kittie Lanham Oakes 16 July 1894 -  Home of the James Madison Weems Sr. family Celina, Texas  James Madison Weems Sr. with wife Kittie, Catherine Red Weems, and his daughter Annie Lou Lanham Weems with her two daughters Carrie Lee Lanham (Autry) and Kittie Lanham (Oakes) The
small town where Mama's parents lived was a very pleasant one.
Grandpa had built a comfortable home set on a plot large enough for him
to have a wonderful vegetable garden and for Grandmama to have all the
space for flowers she could possibly want. To her, roses were
never just roses, they had to have names, and she made it a point to
call them only by those designations. Along the wire fence, she
always had a long space reserved for her sweet peas, the finest I've
ever seen growing. The gravel walk was outlined with carnations,
and there was mignonette, sweet basil, and all the best of the
old-fashioned posies with many of the newer ones.
 GRANDMA WEEMS She planted cypress vines near the porch columns and twined great
ropes of this ferny-leafed plant around those pillars. Their brilliant
red and green attracted humming birds every summer and sometimes, I have
seen as many as eight at once, sipping nectar from the dainty trumpets.
Once, when I was standing still to watch them, I put out my hand
and caught the brightly jeweled little creature. That was a thrill
I shall never forget. I was careful not to injure him and I took
him into the house to show him to the other members of the family.
He had tiny claws like fine black wire and I could feel his frightened
little heart's racing beats against my palm. After each of us had
examined him, I took him back to the vine and released him. He darted
away, but I was sure he came back again in a very short time.
 MUSIC LESSONS About this time, Mama decided I should have the advantage of musical
training. A new music teacher had come into town and the school board
provided a room in the school building where she could give private lessons
to those children whose parents were willing to pay the modest fee.
Helen Brightman was truly gifted. She could play any instrument with
the minimum of effort but she was especially good with the violin and piano.
Her classes were quickly filled. I wanted to try violin and begged
for that training but Mama wanted me to have piano training.
6TH GRADE The teacher I had for my sixth grade studies was a funny, quaint
little woman whose age we often wondered about. She was an "old Maid"
sister of the local doctor, and he was far from young. I think at
that time Miss Martin must have been several years beyond present retirement
limits but she was still one of the best teachers I had during grade school.
"BOY CRAZY" It
seems to be the nature of girls to go through the stage of being "boy
crazy" and I was no exception. It hit me when I was about eleven,
and during the time that I was in Miss Martin's room. I was not
the only one so affected as my chum and I really suffered with a
terrific case of it. I could hardly study and was constantly
watching to see what that certain boy was doing. We had what was
called a "desperate case" and it was much longer lasting than such
affairs usually seem to be. Dee and I were about the same age and
as I look back in memory, it seems that I thought he was just about
perfection, everything that any girl could want. He had beautiful
eyes, a fresh complexion that most of the girls envied, and a charming
smile. But we were too shy to ever talk to each other, more than
just a word or two. However, it was perfectly understood between us
that I was his girl and he was my sweetheart.
When Christmas came, and as usual the whole family went to the Christmas Tree Celebration at the Church, Dee surprised me by putting a nice comb and brush set on the tree for me. Once during the following January, a snow and sleet storm left enough ice on the school ground that we could slide. The hill was slippery enough that under close supervision or chaperonage of the teachers, the girls and boys were permitted to play together since such conditions occurred so rarely that far south. All during recess, Dee and I actually clasped hands and slid together down that slope. That was the height of daring for both of us as we were so painfully shy. Not long after that, we wised up to the fact that the older boys and girls were passing notes to each other during school, a practice that was strictly against the rules but Dee figured that if they could get away with it, we could too. Shortly after we caught on to what the others were doing, I found a love note from Dee in my speller. I was thrilled and took most of the following study period to compose a suitable answer. Each time we passed notes, they got mushier and sillier until a glimmer of sense finally penetrated my befuddled little brain, and I wrote Dee I simply would not keep writing such sticky-sweet stuff any longer. I told him I liked him just as much as ever, and that I expected to keep on liking him a lot, but we would both be embarrassed if any one else happened to read the stuff we had been writing. We did not stop writing notes altogether but we frequently exchanged problems in algebra with "You are my sweetheart" or something similar attached. A few days later, Dee had to stop in one of the stores on his way home after school to pick up a package for his mother. We always had some homework and he had his books with him, but one of his books slipped unnoticed on to the counter and he left it in the store. A little later, one of the teachers came into the store and the merchant gave him Dee's book to be returned to Dee next morning. The teacher found in it a note I had written Dee. It simply said "I like you, Dee." The first thing next morning, Dee was called into the principal's office and questioned about that note. In the beginning, Dee refused to say who had written it, or how or when he had received it. He said nothing at all but he was terribly upset and somewhat scared. He worried about the kind of punishment he would let me in for if he told. The principal reminded Dee that the handwriting could easily be identified by comparison, and he insisted that he was already reasonably sure just which girl wrote it. Dee was beginning to get over the surprise of finding that my note was in the hands of the principal. He mentioned that since the note was not found on the school grounds, and that there was nothing to show where or when it had been written or passed, the matter should be outside school supervision. Besides, who could possibly see anything wrong in an innocent scrap of a note like that. By using my note as a lever, the principal expected to pry information out of Dee and make him divulge the names of other pupils suspected of writing notes as well. Dee positively refused to give any names though he admitted that he had seen several notes in the hands of other boys, some of which might or might not have been passed at school. After lengthy discussion on the subject, Dee extracted from the principal a promise of immunity from punishment for any of us and that my name would not be mentioned. In return, Dee said we would write no more notes of any kind. At recess, Dee met me in the hall to tell me about what had happened and though we did not know it then, the principal was discussing the matter at the same time with our grade teacher. The result of that discussion was that the principal called a meeting of the upper grades in the auditorium immediately after lunch. He delivered himself of quite a homily on the subject of notes. He warned the assembly that in the future, severe punishment would befall any pupil caught writing or passing notes. When he quoted my little note word for word, Dee and I felt that he had failed to keep the terms of his agreement and that we were both embarrassed by the amount of teasing we had to endure following the public reading of our little missive. Our childish romance lasted more than a year after that episode, though we finally quarreled and broke up. So ended an idyllic phase of my childhood. CELINA, COLLIN CO., TEXAS [Celina
- First romance with Dee Finley, then George Jackson. The new
school building and my climbing stunt. Skating on the school
ground, Carrie Mann, the ugly one]
This new Texas town grew from nothing before the railroad came linking Oklahoma to Dallas and Ft. Worth, and extending the market for cattle into Kansas City and St. Louis. Almost with the first train, shops and businesses were there, a flour mill, bank, drugstore, other merchants, all came in as quickly as buildings were erected to house them. The town was incorporated and a city council elected, a mayor and town marshal chosen, ordinances passed and it seemed that all the processes were proceeding in regular order. Very soon, it seemed that all the necessary businesses were there. One of the first resolutions the town council passed with full agreement was that should be no Negroes permitted to live within the incorporated city limits and with one exception, this statute stood for many years. This one exception came about in a rather unusual way. After the council had taken stock of the various facilities, they found that no provision had been made for a hotel and a hotel was badly needed. Several meetings of the council produced no results. The longer it was put off, the greater the need became. Finally, some one thought of Mrs. Nugent, a widow with a family to support, and little means with which to do so. It was suggested that with the backing of several men who had been friends of her late husband and who could advance her some small amount of capital and help her find a suitable building for a small boarding house, that would have to do until better could be provided. Mrs. Nugent was approached with the proposition and was pleased with the thought. She was an excellent cook, and could be expected to set a good table. She made just one stipulation; she would not undertake the business unless she would be permitted to have with her to help her, a certain old Negro man who had been with her family for many years. Old Mark was his name and she would provide a small cottage in the rear of her boarding house, where he could stay. She would guarantee that he would cause no trouble and she would not come without him. The city council debated the matter during several meetings, but in the end they bowed to her determination. Old Mark came. He was an odd looking man, short, with heavy shoulders and very long, muscular arms. His face was deeply wrinkled, and he was bald except for a grizzly gray roll behind his ears. Soon he was a familiar figure around the town, and quite an asset, in his way. If any of the white ladies had extra heavy work, she always tried to get Old Mark to help her. He was the quickest and best hand to clean they could possibly find and his washings were always snowy white. Sometimes, when work at the boarding house was slack, Old Mark would do as many as four big family washes in a day, and all the while, he would sing some old religious hymn in a low mellow humming as he worked. The city resolution stayed on the books, however, and no other colored people were allowed to stay. Once one man tried to bring a couple in but found he could not. That happened this way. The druggist had a sick wife and white help was impossible to get, or nearly so. The few white girls who would work out, generally got married after only a few months. After several such experiences Mr. Lake decided it was hopeless to keep one such a short time, he wanting something more permanent. He put a small house on the back of his lot only a few steps from his home. Then he carefully selected a colored couple, the man was to work on Mr. Lake's farm a short distance out of town and the woman was to do the housework for Mrs. Lake. He thought he had the ideal arrangement. But it did not work out that way. The couple came in rather late in the afternoon, and apparently no one observed them there. They went about their duties quietly the next day but that night, shortly after dark, a large bundle of switches were found tied to their front door. They were frightened and appealed to Mr. Lake. He promised them that everything would be all right, that he would take the matter up with the city authorities and he was sure they would agree. Besides, they were on his property and he would protect them. The threat implied by the bundle of switches was probably only the work of some irresponsible boys. Early the next morning, Mr. Lake called on the mayor and told his story. The mayor reminded him that he was present when the resolution was passed and should have remembered it; however, his Honor agreed to call a meeting of the council for discussion if Mr. Lake insisted. Mr. Lake did insist. The council met and with little or no real discussion refused to rescind the ordinance. But Mr. Lake still believed that he was within his rights, and again told the colored couple they could stay anyway, as he would keep his promise to protect them. However, that was the night another bundle of switches appeared in the same mysterious manner, only this they were tied to Mr. Lake's own front doorknob. A note of warning was attached, and when Mr. Lake read that, he decided discretion was the better part of valor, and moved the pair out of town to his farm early next morning. And as long as we lived in that town, the ordinance was still in effect. THE BUTCHER SHOP One
situation that existed in the past but does not still continue was the
manner in which meat was provided for the town tables. Mr.
Callahan, a huge, rugged man, operated the local butcher shop. He
owned or leased a big pasture out beside the country road that passed
Grandpa's home. It was probably a mile outside the city limits but
there were only two or three houses between our place and the open shed
where he butchered the animals. We could see from our yard when
he or his helper was there but it was too far for us to see the
operation in detail. We always knew though when he was dressing
meat for a flock of buzzards moved in and circled round and round,
waiting for the offal.
Mr. Callahan rarely bought more than two or three steers at a time but he usually kept a few fattening feed pens to provide a constant supply of meat for his shop. One Monday morning during the summer when Mama was at home, Old Mark failed to show up to do our washing. Grandmother and Mama decided that for once they would do it themselves. They started early and before ten o'clock white sheets and petticoats were billowing on the lines in our back yard. About that time, Mr. Callahan bought a big wild range steer. His man and the farmer who sold it started to take the animal out to the slaughter yard but the beast had other ideas. He was strong enough to snap the lead rope they tried to use, and neither of them were expert enough with a lasso to get another rope on him. The brute was so enraged, they yelled for another rider to help them and the three men started driving him away from the center of town. They managed to haze him our way. Mama saw the critter half a block away and shrieked a warning. She and Grandmother scrambled wildly into the back door just in time, but I was around at the side of the house and ran for the front door. I had no idea from which direction the danger was coming. When I reached the front steps, the brute had sailed over our four-foot fence and was charging right at me with his head down and brandishing foot-long horns. I'll never know how I did it, but I clambered onto the porch as he slid by me tossing those vicious horns. It was a near thing but I was lucky. The steer charged on through the yard, slashing at some of the sheets on the lines. Then he saw Old Bill, Grandpa's smart old horse in his yard. He charged at him, but the high fence there held. Old Bill bolted out of sight into his stall. The beast might have cleared even that high fence but the yard was too narrow for him to have a run at it, and he stood there snorting and pawing the ground until one of the riders managed to open our big side gate without dismounting. The three men were afraid to enter the yard and drive the steer out but when his attention was attracted and he saw the riders circling around the yard, he charged out the gate and at them. Their horses avoided the rush and after much strenuous effort, they finally managed to corral that steer in one of Mr. Callahan's feed lots. Mama and Grandmother were still in a great state of excitement when Grandpa came home to dinner at noon. After listening to their account of the incident and my narrow escape, Grandpa jammed his hat down on his head and strode out of the house without waiting to eat. He was gone about half an hour, then returned. He made the quiet comment, "It won't happen again!" That was all he ever said about the incident at home, but the whole town buzzed for a week about what he said to Mr. Callahan. Grandpa was a very quiet, gentle man, who never raised his voice and he had lived in the community a number of years without any one ever seeing him in anger. Mr. Callahan was big and bluff. His fiery temper was easily roused and it was no uncommon thing to hear him bellowing like a mad bull. A number of times, he had spent the night in the calaboose for fighting. But then Grandpa stalked into the butcher shop and pungently expressed his indignation. Mr. Callahan's jaw dropped and he stood rigid with amazement until Grandpa finished his tirade and started to leave. Mr. Callahan stopped him. "Mr. Weems, I ain't never took such a dressing down from nobody before. You are supposed to be a Christian and you are a prominent member of the church. Ain't you ashamed to git mad and bawl a man out like you jest done?" Grandpa snapped back, "If you read your Bible any, you'll find mention of such a thing as righteous wrath! You have just seen a sample!" And he turned and walked out. TRAVELING EVANGELIST [Sister and Sid and the ants. Old Bill. My first faint - Mama thought I had been marked from birth.]
Shortly after this occurrence, a traveling evangelist set up his tent on a vacant lot near the downtown section. He was a good preacher and was soon drawing interested crowds every night. His revival had been going on about ten days and its success was noted when he announced that about forty people had been converted and would join the churches of their choice. The town handy man, Lige Collins, had been cajoled into going to the services a few nights. Some of the men who knew him were urging him to go down to the front bench for prayers. He loved his bottle so well that he felt religion was not for him. Well-meaning friends suggested to the evangelist that if the opportunity presented, he should talk to Lige. A confirmed sinner like Lige would...a brand snatched from the burning. As it happened next morning, the grocer wanted his show windows washed and hired Lige for the job. With a pail of dirty, soapy water and a long-handled brush, he was working on this chore when the preacher chanced to stroll by. The minister was a dapper little man with a fresh white shirt and neat gray suit. Stopping to speak to Lige, he invited him to attend services that night. Lige merely grunted and continued to slosh water around with his mop. The preacher inquired what faith Lige embraced and exhorted him to have a thought for his salvation. Lige was in no humor to listen. Suddenly, he swung his wet mop around and smacked the evangelist in the chest with it. "Just why did you do that!" the preacher asked in a mild voice. Lige said nothing and dipping his mop back into the pail, turned back to the window. When the preacher repeated his question, Lige swung his mop again, this time striking him in the back. To his astonishment, the preacher stepped forward, clipped Lige neatly on the chin and sent him sprawling. Lige scrambled to his feet and moved in for a fight. He met a fast upper cut with a one, two that sent him down into the ditch. As Lige lay there, one eye rapidly closing, he asked how come. Men of God were not supposed to get into fistfights. The preacher quoted the Bible command, "If a man smite thou, turn the other cheek. I did that! Then I used my own discretion." DEPUTY GROVER COX [Along
with the businesses that moved in to make the new town came the
churches. At first, the various congregations met wherever they
could find a suitable place, but soon buildings were put up for
Methodists, Baptists, Presbyterians, and Christians. About the
last to come in were the Catholics. This was a Protestant
community and only a few families belonged to the Catholic Church.
The plot the Catholics chose for their church was directly across the street from Grandpa's house. Father Vernamont. While the town was new, and stores were being hastily erected, no provision was made for offices, not even a much-needed notary. The notary was there in the person of Grover Cox. Because of his friendship with the Cox family, my uncle arranged for Grover to put his desk in the front of the store occupied by the hardware department. Mr. Cox was the smallest dwarf outside of a circus, it seemed, and he had been offered a salary with Ringling, so rumor had it. He was slightly under three feet in height and had tiny hands and feet, but his limbs were quite short and his head and body large in proportion. He was considered quite a brilliant man, with considerable legal knowledge, largely self-taught, I imagine. He was well liked and was usually kept quite busy with his notary work, deeds, mortgages, contracts, and such. He came from a good family and had several brothers, all of whom were normal in size. One of his brothers, Walter, was town marshal but real frontier days were past and barring an occasional drunk, and a rare outbreak of fisticuffs, there was little duty for the marshal. Even Saturday nights were usually quiet, though if there should be any disturbance Saturday afternoon or night was when it would happen. One Saturday, Walter had business in the county seat and was away until late. That happened to be the time when three newcomers from a neighboring community went on a rampage. They were drunk, rowdy and quarrelsome and they threatened to shoot the town up. They did fire a few shots into the air. When this happened, some one told them that if the marshal had not been out of town, they would have been thrown into the calaboose with such behavior. They blustered and stormed around and boasted that nobody could take them in, and Walter Cox wouldn't even be a good dogcatcher. To prove this statement, they swore they would be back the following Saturday to show Walter and any of his brothers up, if he dared to try to stop their fun. Naturally their boasting was reported to Walter, and Grover heard about it as well. Because he was so tiny and was sometimes out alone late at night, Walter wanted Grover to have the right to carry his gun and had sworn Grover in as deputy shortly after taking the office. But that fact was soon forgotten and only a few knew that Grover was a crack shot with a pistol. On the following Saturday night, Walter strolled around the city square to make his presence known, then waited in the caf where the disturbance had taken place. At that big desk in front of the hardware store, Grover appeared to be extremely busy with some of his papers. But his big Colt was nearly dragging the ground when he stepped out into the street to intercept the three brothers who had made their brags. The three burly brothers tied their horses to the hitch rack and turned to see Grover facing them. "I believe you sent my brother Walter word that this was to be a family affair," he said mildly. He took a stance with both tiny hands on his hips and stared up in defiance. "Just count me in, too, on anything of that sort!" It was perfectly plain to everyone who saw the meeting that Grover meant exactly what he said but it was so ludicrous to see the tiny dwarf facing up to the three overgrown louts that the meeting broke up with boisterous laughter, all around. [Mr. MacAdam's romance. Gossip about Mama because Papa was away so much.]
[My first movie shown at the schoolhouse and not considered very appropriate for school children as it was all about the Harry K. Thaw Case. The first ride in an auto, chain drive, and it would not "Whoa!"] [Papa buys a farm in Oklahoma and comes home bringing Phme my first and only present from him, "Eskimo Stories" and then I cannot remember. Moving to the Oklahoma farm. Sister was given a pup that she named Punch and Punch was carried on the train with us. Our first long trip to Vernon, and we forded Red River.] Sister's name was Carrie Lee Lanham. "Carrie" Harrison's family was from Brunswick County, Virginia, but she was born in Edgefield, South Carolina. Her father was Wiley Harrison and her mother Caroline Elizabeth Talbert, who died in the 1850s. Her father remarried and the family moved to Noxubee County, Mississippi before 1860 (that is where she and Robert G. Lanham were married). He had two daughters and a son with his second wife. It is gone now. This was when Walter Lanham moved from Maryland to Edgefield. The family arrived in Maryland before 1700. It no longer seems to be around. Sherman Daily Democrat August 15, 1916 J.M. Weems Dead Pioneer Citizen Passes Away at the Home of His Son Here J.M. Weems, Sr., seventy-five years of age, a pioneer citizen of Grayson county and one of the best known and most highly regarded men in the county, died last night at 12:20 o'clock, after an illness of three weeks' duration. Death came at the home of his son Dr. J.M. Weems, No. 826 West Houston street, where he was taken shortly after he became ill. He is survived by his wife, Mrs. Kittie Weems, and one son and one daughter, Dr. J.M. Weems of this city and Mrs. T.W. Lanham of Oklahoma. Mr. Weems was born and reared in Durant, Miss., coming to Texas in 1874 and locating in Grayson county. With the exception of several years spent at Celina, Collin county, during which time he was engaged in the hardware business at that place, he has lived in this county. For many years he was identified with the farming interests of the county and was a leader in agricultural progressiveness. For eight years he served the county as a commissioner, and was a splendid official. during the war between the states he served four years in the southern side. Mr. Weems had long belonged to the Southern Methodist church, and was prominent in its affairs. funeral services will be held at the home of Dr. Weems this afternoon at 5:30 o'clock, conducted by Rev. J.F. Pierce of the Travis Street Methodist church, and burial will be in West Hill cemetery. Sherman Democrat Wednesday, 16 August 1916 Services Held at the Home of Dr. Weems Yesterday Afternoon. Funeral services for J.M. Weems, Sr., who died Monday night, were held Tuesday afternoon at 5:30 o'clock, at the home of his son, Dr. J.M. Weems, No. 826 West Houston street, conducted by the Rev. J.F. Pierce, pastor of Travis Street Methodist church. The following were the pall bearers: J.L. Wilson of Celina, Joe F. Etter, Stanley Roberts, Forrest Moore, Will Gough and Jim Snyder, active; Billie Walsh, W.H. Lankford, George Hardwicke, B.R. Long, Ben Shaw, Judge Dayton B. Steed, W.F. Corbin and F.L. O'Hanlon, honorary. The funeral was attended by a large number of people, and many bearutiful flowers were sent. Josiah McGaw's father was the Revolutionary War soldier. I haven't found proof of the Swamp Fox story though they were probably in a few of the same battles. Her father died in 1849, her mother in 1855. Should be Dr. Red. James Albert died at age two, before the family left Mississippi. George R. died in Texas in 1880 at age eight and is buried with his parents in the West End Cemetery in Sherman. (note- West Hill Cemetery in Sherman) The letter is in the possession of descendants of George Red, who sent me a copy. He was not on Lee's staff, though he apparently was at Appomattox. This was an unfinished thought.  Biography Index Susan Hawkins © 2024 If you find any of Grayson County TXGenWeb links inoperable, please send me a message. |