The Lonesome Story

– Lonesome –
built in 1819 in Burns, Tennessee
The Lonesome Story
Copyright © 2001
William W. Austin
10 Creekside Woods Court
Swansboro, North Carolina 28584
E-mail: [email protected] or [email protected]
Printed in the United States of America
PDF Electronic Version created on 10-18-05
Editors Note:
William W. Austin, the author of this book, passed away on
October 8, 2004 at the age of 89. We count our blessings that
his memory lives on through this historical account of the
Austin family and the treasured homeplace we call Lonesome.
The Lonesome Story
by William Wyatt Austin, Jr.
with
Ruth Elizabeth Austin Kimbro Aston
Burns, Tennessee
Dickson County
July 15, 2001
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THE LONESOME STORY
Aunt Betty holding the “Little Glass Hen”
– Dedication –
The development of this book in its present form would have been impossible
without numerous inputs by the co-author Ruth Elizabeth Austin Kimbro Aston
(1891-1994). Her detailed accounts of first-hand memories of people, places
and events, are essential to the story. Consequently, it is appropriate that the
book be dedicated to her memory. This we do gladly!
– William W. Austin
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THE LONESOME STORY
– Preface –
The idea of writing a history of “Lonesome,” the old log house in the fourth civil district
of Dickson County that was the home of William and Dicy Horner Austin from l820 to
l876, began with the thought that the story of this old house, one of the oldest, if not the
very oldest, in Dickson County, deserved to be told. It developed over a period of several
years, as family members gathered from time to time to sit on the large screened porch and
enjoy the natural peaceful setting, and talk about former family members who had lived
there, and what it must have been like back in those early years.
As the idea developed, some preliminary questions that had to be answered were: Who
would write the story? What style or format should be used? Should it a simple, factual
chronology, listing names dates and places? Or would it be better to use a narrative style
complete with a plot, and characters based on the lives of family members who had lived
there, sort of like a historical novel?
The answers to these questions that finally evolved after a lot of thinking and planning and
soul-searching, were that the logical authors should be our Aunt Betty, the current owner
(1990) and granddaughter of the original owners, William and Dicy Horner Austin, with
help from her nephew, a great grandson of William and Dicy, yet another William Austin,
e.g. William Wyatt Austin, Jr., AKA Ol’ Grandad, or Bill II.
As to style it was agreed that the story would be more readable and interesting if it contained more than just the bare facts. So what follows is somewhere between chronology
and fiction. The characters are all real; the chain of events as accurate as could be determined from the authors’ personal recollections, and from family, county, and military
records. Admittedly, a few embellishments and editorial taking-of-liberties with the bare
facts, have been used to liven up the story, and help the characters come to life. For these
the authors offer no apology.
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THE LONESOME STORY
– Acknowledgements –
The authors are indebted to many sources for the information and ideas set forth here. To
list them all would be virtually impossible, but several deserve mention.
-- My beloved wife and helpmate Lucia Patton Austin, whose patience and editorial advice
did much to make “The Lonesome Story” possible.
-- Our daughter Betty Austin Owen, whose computer graphic skills and professional editorial work converted the original manuscript and crude sketches into a finished book.
-- Dickson County, Tennessee Registry (deeds, mortgages., wills, etc.)
-- Orange County, North Carolina Registry (deeds, mortgages., wills, etc.)
-- North Carolina Department of State (Early land grants etc.)
-- North Carolina Department of Archives and History
-- Stuart, Seth “A Brief History of Burns, Tennessee” Private Publication Ca. 1973
-- Corlew, Robert “History of Dickson County, Tennessee” 1956
-- Caldwell, Mary French “Tennessee the Volunteer State” 1968
-- Lindsley, John Berrien “Military Archives of Tennessee” 1886
-- Zibart, C.F. “Yesterday’s Nashville” Seeman Publishers 1976
-- And to our Kentucky Cousins Dot and C.F. Austin of Maysville, Kentucky. (C.F .is a
descendant of William and Ruth Kelly Austin, parents of Lonesome’s first occupants,
William and Dicy Horner Austin), and especially to Cousin Dot for encouragement, and
urging during the long, slow process of writing The Lonesome Story.
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THE LONESOME STORY
– Table of Contents –
Introduction
Chapter 1: The Little Glass Hen (How Lonesome Got its Name) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1
Chapter 2: The Pre-Lonesome Years. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5
Chapter 3: A long trip across the Mountains (Events and People Ca. 1804) . . . . . . . . . . 15
Chapter 4: The David Pasmore Years . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19
Chapter 5: William and Dicy and The War of 1812. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23
Chapter 6: Life in a New Log House, Built 1819-20 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31
Chapter 7: Lonesome During the Civil War, 1861-65 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35
Chapter 8: Lonesome, the Last Hundred Years . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37
Chapter X: Austin-Alspaugh Family Cemetery. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43
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THE LONESOME STORY
Dicy Horner Austin
1800 - 1884
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THE LONESOME STORY
Introduction & Chronology
My earliest recollection of Lonesome is of a trip there with my folks, William Wyatt
Austin, Sr. and Ethel Davis Austin, during the summer of 1925. I was ten then, and I
remember being impressed by the big stone chimney, the hand-hewn logs, and the spring
house down by the creek. And I was especially impressed by how much my dad seemed to
enjoy coming back to this place of his childhood memories, and reliving some of them
with his sister, our dear Aunt Betty, co-author of this story. Betty had inherited the place
from her aunt and foster mother, Mary Zenab “Zenie” Austin Alspaugh (Mrs. J.C.). Aunt
Betty, was only the third owner of Lonesome since it was built around 1820. (Sadly, Aunt
Betty passed away on December 11, 1994 at age 103.)
As a curious ten-year-old, I had only the vaguest understanding of who William and Dicy
Horner Austin were. I’d been shown their graves in the family cemetery, and I knew they
were my great grandparents, and that they had lived here eons ago; I had no idea at all of
where they came from, or how or why they came to build this old log house on the banks
of Beaverdam Creek in Dickson County, Tennessee.
Later on, much later on, about 1980, after we’d come to Lonesome with our own kids
numerous times, I began to have persistent feelings about, “If these walls could only talk,
what stories they would tell!” And finally it hit me. This was the voice, the spirit of
Lonesome, reaching out to me, wanting to be heard. The voice was persistent, it kept coming back to me time after time, like the refrain of an old familiar song. And as we’d come
back to Lonesome for visits, and especially as I’d walk through the open field west of the
house and over to the cemetery, and climb through briars and poison ivy to read the names
of my forebears on the weathered old marble tombstones, my great grandparents, William
& Dicy Austin who started this story; or as I’d climb the steep limestone ridge across the
creek below the house, or wade with our kids down the creek to the long-abandoned lime
mine at “Lake Cutchatoe”, so named by our ancestors kids, where my grandparents, Calvin
and “Raney” Austin’s* house had been, I’d hear this same voice. It kept pestering me,
reaching out, grabbing me and saying, “I won’t let go of you ’til you tell my story, and put it
in writin’ so’s all my folks will know about me, and how I came to be the oldest house in
Dickson County, and the most-loved home in the Austin family.”
* Calvin Franklin and Lurana “Raney” Elisabeth Anderson Austin, parents of
William Wyatt Austin, Sr., and Ruth Elizabeth Austin Kimbro Aston, (Aunt Betty)
So this story is the saga of the hard-working, pioneer Austins who came from North
Carolina to middle Tennessee about the turn of the century, the nineteenth century that is,
and have lived here in body or in spirit ever since. One of the first things people ask is
“How did Lonesome get its name?” Well, read on into Chapter 1, “The Little Glass Hen”.
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The following is a short chronology of owners & occupants of Lonesome as best we can
determine:
1819-20 – A new log house (two large rooms, each two stories) with breezeway between
was built by an unknown builder, probably David Pasmore & coworkers. David Pasmore
was a Revolutionary War vet who wed (about 1805) William “Deux”* Austin’s widow, Ruth
Kelly Austin, mother of my first occupants who were William “Three”* m. Dicy Horner
Austin 1819.
*The middle names “One,” “Deux,” and “Three” are arbitrarily assigned by the
authors to distinguish among the three William (no middle name) Austins.
1876 -1884 – Deaths of William, 1876 & Dicy, 1884. Lonesome deeded to their youngest
child: Mary Zenab “Zenie” Austin Alspaugh (Mrs. Josiah Clifton). Zenie & JC did not live
at Lonesome, JC was Station Agent and General Store owner at nearby Burns Station,
Tennessee, but they let JC’s aging mom, Emily Clifton & her son John Henry Alspaugh,
and JCA’ s sister Ann Mariah Lee et al live at Lonesome in the late 1800’s.
Early 1900’s – Lonesome rented to Benjamin & Eugenia Lomax Austin.
Benjamin was son of Will’s brother, George Wyatt & Mary Ann Tidwell Austin, and Dad
of our cousin Marie Austin Brown. Later it was rented to a family of Gray’s who had been
chosen to look after the elderly Dr Mathis, next neighbor up creek from Lonesome.
1912 – Lonesome deeded to Ruth Elizabeth “Betty” Austin (REAKA) on her 21st B’day
2-6-1912 by her Aunt Zenie. She was also Betty’s foster mother whom she lovingly called
“Mammy.”
1913 – REAKA m. John Alan Kimbro (b. 1880 - d. 1921)
1918 – Lonesome named by Zenie, See “The Little Glass Hen”, Chapter 1.
1918-1940 – Lonesome mostly vacant. Occasional visits, by REAKA et al. First 6 volt electric wiring by REAKA’s friends, The Braggs 1926.
1940-1959 – Lonesome Used by REAKA & her niece Madge Alspaugh, et al as summer
vacation place.
1959-60 – REAKA had Lonesome renovated and modernized. Electric lights, plumbing
with an electric pump in a new spring house, and big concrete screened porch clear across
the front.
1960-1980 – Lonesome used by REAKA & niece Madge Alspaugh Gibson as a regular
summer home with scores of visitors each summer.
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1980 – Madge died in Tulsa after a series of strokes. She was cremated and ashes buried
beside her Alspaugh relatives in the Lonesome Cemetery. (See Chapter X. The Austin/
Alspaugh Cemetery plot appended).
1984-1994 – REAKA moved to Springmoor, Raleigh, North Carolina following a broken
hip at her Tulsa home 1984. Occasional visits to Lonesome with her nephew, co-author of
this story and wife Lucia until her death of pneumonia in December of 1994. She was cremated and her ashes buried at the Lonesome Cemetery. REAKA willed Lonesome to
William W. Austin III, its fourth and present owner. (7-14-2001).
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THE LONESOME STORY
John Alan Kimbro
1880 - 1921
Ruth Elizabeth Austin Kimbro Aston
1891-1994
CHAPTER ONE
Chapter 1: The Little Glass Hen
“You look like Mr. & Mrs. Suburbia going to
Lonesomehurst!”
“Who said that?” I asked drowsily, realizin’ that
somebody wuz talkin’ about me while I dozed in
the June sunshine on the banks of Beaverdam
Creek.-- Only half awake, I diskivered th’ speaker
wuz my owner, Zenie Alspaugh,* who had jest
finished puttin’ up some peach preserves in her
kitchen.
*Mary Zenab Austin Alspaugh (Mrs. Josiah Clifton Alspaugh). In 1913 they lived
at Burns, Tennessee where JCA was a merchant, and also Station Agent for the
North Carolina & St.L Railroad.
’Twuz a warm early summer afternoon in Burns, (Dickson County) Tennessee. The y’ar was
l9l3, an’ as it turned out, Zenie wuz speakin’ to her foster-daughter, Betty Kimbro*, who
with her railroadman husband Jack*, had started out the door with a picnic baskit, a blankit,
and a small glass hen servin’ dish full uv some warm peach preserves thet Zenie had jest
given ’em.
*Ruth Elizabeth “Betty” Austin Kimbro and husband, John Alan “Jack” Kimbro,
born May 19, 1880; died November 21, l921. They were married on May 10, 1913.
They had packed up th’ picnic lunch an’ wuz goin’ fur a half-mile hike from Zenie’s house
in Burns, down to my cool spring under the shade of a towerin’ triple oak tree, and the old
oak tree with its big twisted roots on the creek bank where they used sit during their
“courting days”. They called it their “courtin’ tree”. (See photo in Chapter 8)
On th’ way down through what use ’ta be her Grandpa Billy’s** farm, they had t’cross a
split rail fence. So Betty crawled over first, clutchin’ her long skirt to keep it away from th’
rough fence rails, an’ then Jack handed ’er the baskit an’ blankit an’ the little glass hen whilst
he clumb over th’ fence.
** William and Dicy Horner Austin, owners of Lonesome l820-1876.
“We’d better not drop that glass hen,” Betty said. “I’d never get over it if we broke it. It’s
been one of Mammy’s favorite dishes; and it sat on our table for as long as I can remember.” So th’ hen and th’ preserves arrived safe and sound. Th’ peach preserves disappeared
purty quick, but th’ little glass hen is still around; still settin’ on her servin’-bowl nest,
lookin as perky as ever with nary a ruffled feather, and still keepin’ a sharp eye out for any
intruders, as she has for these past eighty-plus years.
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THE LONESOME STORY
As they left Zenie’s house Betty had said sort of
half-heartedly, “You’d better come go with us.”
but hopin’ to herself that she and Jack could
have th’ rest uv th’ day to themselves. Jack had
jest returned from a business trip an’ she felt
like they needed some time together, jest th’ two
of ’em. -Zenie’s reply was as expected, “No, I ’d
better stay here and finish puttin’ up these
peaches, and get some supper for Pappy*, he’ll
be comin’ home from th’ depot in a little while.”
*Josiah Clifton Alspaugh, Betty’s
foster father.
But Zenie’s sorta whimsical remark about “Mr.
and Mrs. Suburbia goin’ to Lonesomehurst”
somehow lingered in my memory.
Mr. and Mrs Suburbia wuz cartoon characters in
th’ newspapers, and Lonesomehurst wuz their
fav’rit hideaway. An’ seems like it lingered with
Betty and Jack too, fur from that day on my name wuz “Lonesomehurst”, or later, jest plain
“Lonesome”.
Betty with the “Little Glass Hen“
Fur ya see, I’m a house. Not just any average house, but a very special house. Th’ fact that I
wuz ’most a hundert y’ars old when I got my name, should tell you somethin’ about me.
How often have you heerd it said uv an old house, “If these walls could only talk, whut
stories they would tell!”
Well, believe it or not, this here’s th’ story of one ol’ house who, with a leetle help
from some of th’ folks who lived here an’ frum some of their offsprings, has learned
how to talk.
Yep, my name is Lonesome, as I said, an’ as fur as I know I’m jest about th’ oldest,
if not th’ very oldest, house in Dickson County that’s still in use; an’ fur these past 170 plus
years I’ve been a’settin’ rat here on the banks of Beaverdam Creek, near the town of Burns
in Dickson County, Tennessee.
But before I begin my story, I’ve gotta tell ya that without my people this here story could
not be told; hit never would’a happened.
So th’ story I’m about to tell is not jest a story about an old log house on the banks of
Beaverdam Creek* in Dickson County, Tennessee.
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CHAPTER ONE
*Betty says Lonesome is about l-l/2 miles downstream from th’ source of
Beaverdam Creek, a large “bottomless” spring also on th’ original lands of my
first owners, William and Dicy Horner Austin. This spring and Lonesome are
located in th’ west section of th’ Fourth Civil District of Dickson County. Th’
Beaverdam flows in a gen’rally southeasterly direction, past Lonesome and what
us’ta be th’ Jesse Allen lime kiln just below it, an’ on down fur about eight or
more miles, emptyin’ into Turnbull Creek, a tributary of th Harpeth River. But
thet’s another story.
So this is th’ story of my people; th’ folks who needed me, and wanted me bad enough to
cut and hew by hand my big chestnut logs from th’ nearby hills and forests; to gather limestone rocks frum th’ creek bed an’ hillsides t’ build my big chimney and fireplaces, and th’
people who made me their home, an’ raised their young’uns here, thoo good times an’ hard
times, thoo sickness an’ health, an’ thoo joys an’ sorrows, an’ wars an’ peace, fur these past
l70 y’ars.
Well, after a’settin’ here an’ listenin’ an’ thinkin’ fur this long, I’ve jest about l’arned how to
talk purty good English; if I have to. So, I’ll give it a try rat now. Jest read on...
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CHAPTER TWO
Chapter 2: The Pre-Lonesome Years
A long time before I was built in 1819-1820, my cool spring bubbled peacefully beneath the
triple oak tree to join the waters of Beaverdam Creek nearby. The triple oaks were much
smaller than they are now; and my logs were still tall green chestnut trees reaching for the
sun in these middle Tennessee hills.
This was in the late l700’s, and my first people were still living in Orange County North
Carolina, talking about whether to join their restless pioneer friends and neighbors and
move across the Appalachian Mountains into the newly-formed “Territory”, It was officially named “The Territory of the United States South of the Ohio River.” Later in 1796 it
became The State of Tennessee.
Amongst these hardy pioneers were some fellers who later became well-known leaders, like
John Sevier, elected as the first governor, James Robertson and his wife, nee Charlotte
Reeves (for whom the county seat of Dickson County is named), and John Donelson,
granddaddy of Rachel Donelson Robards, who became President Andrew Jackson’s wife.
These fellers, and some others like ’em, organized and led the first group of settlers from
Virginia and North Carolina over into the Appalachian mount’ns to establish what they
called “The Watauga Association”. This was about 1780, and a little later, along about 1785
they tried to form “The state that never was.” They had wanted it to be known as the state
of Franklin, named after the great statesman, Benjamin Franklin. And they actually elected
John Sevier to be their first governor. But politics being what they were, it never became a
state. Instead it was officially designated as “The Territory of the United States South of
the Ohio River”.
If that sounds a bit too wordy to be the name of a state, it was. In 1792, the northern part
of the territory was granted statehood and named Kentucky, the fifteenth state to obtain
statehood. Still later, in 1796, the southern part of the territory became Tennessee and
granted statehood as the sixteenth state. The name Tennessee, came from Tanase a
Cherokee village, well known to the early settlers.
Now whilst all this politickin’ was goin’ on, these same fellers organized and led a small
band of about 200 settlers across th’ Great Smoky Mountains, and down what’s now the
Tennessee River on rafts and big “flatboats” all th’ way to the Ohio River, about where
Paducah, Kentucky now is. Then they poled their rafts an’ flatboats back up the nearby
Cumberland River for a hundred miles or so, to establish a new outpost they called Fort
Nashborough. (It later became Nashville.) This was about 1780.
This roundabout route they travelled was necessary because there warn’t any roads, and it
was much easier to build large log rafts and flatboats and go by water than to hack their
way through the wilderness and over the mountains, parts of which wuz just about impassable to covered waguns. Of course the water route warn’t easy either. They was
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THE LONESOME STORY
shoals and shallow places all along the river, and sometimes they had to wait, and hope, for
enough rain to make the river navigable.
For many years, on up into the early 1800’s this water route was used by most of the settlers who came to middle Tennessee from Virginia and North Carolina. As Will Austin said,
“Hit was a long, hard trip, but nobody said it was gonna be easy.” More about this later.
But to git back to the story of my own people; it was along ’bout then (1780’s) thet Will
and Ruth Kelly Austin*, the parents of my first owners, was livin’ in Orange County North
Carolina on land granted them by the State of North Carolina near the town of
Hillsborough, the county seat.
*Later discovery via the Obion County, Tennessee Historical Society, after this
was written, revealed that there is some doubt about whether or not Will had died
in Orange County North Carolina. Although there is uncertainty here, the authors
decided to leave this account of their trip to Tennessee as-written.
At that time, 1789, William (Will), and Ruth, both about 22, had only one kid, John, who
was born in Orange County 1788. Amongst their friends and neighbors in Orange County
wuz th’ David Pasmores, the George Horners, and th’ Moses Fussells (pronounced
“Fuzzell”) who, a few years later would become very much involved in my story.
On 26 June l790, at their log home on Gray’s Creek near the village of Hillsborough,
North Carolina, another son wuz born to Will and Ruth. They named him William, after
his pa (and also his grandpa, William, who married Elizabeth Greene back ’bout l750), and
because even then William was, and still is, a mighty popular name amongst the Austin clan.
This new William would later marry Dicy Horner and they would become my first owners.
Here’s a little story about this young Will and his folks:
“A Special Christmas Present”
Will Austin, at age 10, was a sharp blue-eyed youngster with a shock of dark, curly hair, and
an expectant twinkle in his eye. It was Christmas Eve 1800, and the air of expectancy was
everywhere. Will and his brothers John, 12, and Philip, 3, had been counting the days ’til
Christmas. They lived with their parents, another William and Ruth (Kelly) Austin in a log
house on the banks of Gray’s Creek, in Orange County, North Carolina, near the county
seat, Hillsborough.
A Christmas tree and some holly and mistletoe had been cut from nearby woods, and they
had decorated the tree with strings of popcorn and cranberries, and a few colored glass
baubles that had belonged to their grandparents. Holly and mistletoe were draped along the
mantle piece and over the doors.
A bright, crackling fire in the fireplace warmed the one-room log house as blustery, icy
winds whistled around the windows, and made occasional puffs of smoke billow out of the
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CHAPTER TWO
huge stone fireplace. “Will, don’t sit so close to that fire. A spark might pop out and burn
you.” His mother spoke gently but firmly, as she was peeling some apples for an apple pie.
Will backed up obligingly, remembering that after all, it was Christmas Eve and kids were
s’posed to mind their elders, especially at this time of year. Anyway he was getting too hot
sitting right on the hearth in front of the fire.
“Mammy”, he said, “Whut air we gonna git fur Chris’mas this year?” The expectant twinkle
in his eye became even sharper. Now that he was ten-and a half, going on eleven, he felt
like his folks ought to let him in on what their plans were, though he already knew there
wouldn’t be very much for Christmas this year.
For you see, the Austins were part of a group of close-knit, hard-working settlers. They
weren’t exactly poor, but they certainly were not wealthy. It hadn’t been very long since they
had packed up everything they had, which wasn’t very much, and moved from Virginia to
North Carolina. They, like so many others after the Revolutionary War, were always looking
for better places to settle down and raise their families.
They didn’t have much money, but they’d been lucky enough to get a small land-grant,
about 40 acres, from the State of North Carolina to build their own log cabin and “live off
the land”, fishing and hunting, and clearing enough of the land to raise some fruit trees
and vegetables, and to have a pasture for a few head of livestock, and hogs and chickens.
But in spite of this, they were not satisfied. They were restless. They’d just recently heard
talk of even more and better lands over the mountains in the newly established state of
Tennessee. And then too, according to their way of thinking, this section of Orange
County was getting too overcrowded to suit them. After all January 1, 1801 would be the
beginning of a new century, a good time to launch out and make a fresh start. They’d heard
the State of Tennessee was selling good farm land for 50 cents per acre to attract new settlers.
But this was the Christmas season, always a special time for the pioneers. They were devout
people, and their faith in God, and in each other, were important. And the idea of “peace
on earth and good will toward men” meant a lot to them. It was something they treasured;
and they wanted to do all they could to keep alive the spirit of Christmas, and pass it along
to their children. So in spite of primitive surroundings and lack of money, they did not feel
deprived. They were thankful to be able to enjoy another Christmas together, and still look
forward to better times ahead in new surroundings.
So Ruth’s reply to her son, came as no surprise to either of them. “Will, you’re old enough
to know that Christmas means a lot more than just getting presents. It’s what’s in your heart
that counts. You know about how the Christ child was God’s gift to us all, and how He
came to bring ‘peace on earth and good will toward men’. Sometimes folks like us just can’t
afford to give lots of nice gifts to one another, even though we’d like to. But we can share
our love with each other, and show how much we appreciate our friends and families by
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THE LONESOME STORY
being kind, and sharing what we have with them. So you see, the best gifts of all are not
things. They are love and kindness, and caring, not just at Christmas, but all the time.”
Will had a wistful look on his face now. His first thought, though not expressed, was, “But
Mammy, I thought wuz goin’ to get....” But he had heard what she said, and he was trying
to understand it. He finally asked, “Well, air we goin’ to git anything a’tall?”
Ruth thought for a moment, praying inwardly for something to say. Then, “You’ll just have
to wait ’til Christmas morning, Will. I’m sure you’ll all find some nice goodies in your
stockings.” Then she went on, “But the best surprise of all came yesterday. We just heard
that the Horners have a new baby girl, born last night!”
Will’s reaction was something less than enthusiastic. He was glad he had his brothers, but to
him babies just meant more trouble, taking care of them, keeping them from getting hurt,
or getting into things they shouldn’t. And now the Horners, their closest neighbors and
very good friends have a new baby girl? --“Ugh!”
Will and John had been hoping for a boy for them to play with, and be pals with. To them
girls were a sort of necessary evil; something to be tolerated, but from a safe distance, and
certainly not anything special like a Christmas present ought to be. “What’s the new baby’s
name?” he asked trying to hide his disappointment as best he could.
His mother’s reply didn’t mean anything special to Will at the moment, and he would probably forget he ever asked the question. But after a few years he’d come to realize that her
answer would mean a great deal to him.
“They’ve decided to call her Dicy,” she said.
But to git back to my story. As I said, William and Ruth, like most o’ their friends and
neighbors, wuz pioneers at heart; allus lookin’ for new surroundin’s and a better life. So it
didn’t take much persuadin’ to git ’em to decide to sell their place in Orange County, and
buy a big new covered wagon and a team of four real good hosses, so’s they could line up
with th’ next caravan headin’ west.
Now you’ve got to understan’ thet these here Austins an’ their neighbors wuz a very adventuresome bunch, willin’ to risk jest about everythang they had, includin’ their lives, for whut
they bleeved wuz their dream of a better life. We jest don’t seem to have many folks like
this today, do we?
And it’s might’ nigh impossible fur folks nowadays to imagine what it wuz like back then;
how much it meant to ’em, deep down inside, t’ launch out, t’ explore, t’ expand their territories, and most uv all, t’ find new lands where they could farm and raise their young’uns
an’ families, free an’ independent. After all, thet’s whut th’ Revolution wuz all about, warn’t
it?
-8-
CHAPTER TWO
Crossin’ the Appalachian Mountains back in them days wuz pretty rough goin’. It’s true thet
a few fellers like Dan’l Boone an’ Davy Crockett an’ some o’ their cohorts had explored
aroun’ in these mountains, through the Cumberland Gap an’ on over into whut’s now
Tennessee an’ up into what’s now Kaintucky, hackin’ trails thoo th’ wilderness as they went.
Usually they jest follered along deer or ol’ buffalo trails. But these trails wuz nuthin’ a’tall
like wagon roads. An’ th’ weather, which could git downright bad, with rain an’ mud, an’
snow and ice in the winter, an’ blisterin’ heat in th’ summer.
An’ on top o’ thet, some o’ th’ Injuns along th’ way, who got purty riled up about these
palefaces comin’ in and takin’ over their lands an’ their huntin’ grounds, wuz very unfriendly, t’ say th’ least. Stories some uv th’ travelers ’ud tell about bein’ ambushed by the Injuns
an’ settin fire to their wagons, an’ even bein’ scalped, wuz purty skeery. So even tho our
bunch of settlers had heerd tell of Davy Crockett, an’ Dan’l Boone, they also knowed thet
th’ goin’ ’ud be purty rough after they left Orange County; an’ all of ’em wuz worried ’bout
how they’d git across th’ big mountains, an’ whuther or not they’d have any trouble with
them pesky Injuns.
Now I’d like t’ take ya back almost two hunnert y’ars an’ tell ya jesta little bit about thet first
trip my folks made acrost th’ mountains. I’m agoin’ t’ let my storywriter, still another Bill
Austin, do the tellin’ now.
Wagon Train Across The Appalachians
It was Monday April the tenth, l804. The sun was shining and the trees were all sprouting
new green buds, and the dogwoods were just beginning to blossom, as Will Austin’s big
new Conestoga wagon lurched bumpily along the rutted wagon road just west of
Hillsborough in Orange County North Carolina. Will had bought the Conestoga a few
weeks before, and he and his wife, the former Ruth Kelly, and their four boys, John, 20;
Will, 15; Sam, 14; and Philip, 9; with’n their man-slave “Mose”, had loaded up as much of
their belongings as they could get in or on the big new covered wagon. They had sold their
place in Orange County a few miles southwest of Hillsborough, the county seat, and most
of their live-stock and furniture; and now they were finally on their way.
They’d joined a caravan along with ten or fifteen other wagons loaded with some of their
friends and relatives and their belongings. Included in this caravan were families like the
Fussells, (pronounced Fuzzle), the Horners and the Pasmores et al. And so this was the
start of their long westward trek to find new homes in the newly formed (1796) state of
Tennessee. They knew they were heading for somewhere in middle Tennessee, probably
along the Harpeth River about 30 miles west of Fort Nashborough (it later became
Nashville); but they had only a vague idea as to where they’d finally wind up, or the exact
route they would follow, or how long it would take to get there.
They had some help and guidance in planning the trip from some of the hardy pioneer
explorers, cohorts of Daniel Boone and others, who had been across the Appalachians and
knew about the terrain, and the best routes and stop-over places they could use. One of
the most likely routes, travelling more or less due west, included the following villages, plan-9-
THE LONESOME STORY
tations, river valleys etc, that would be landmarks along their route from Hillsborough in
Orange County, North Carolina (established.1788 ) to Dickson County in Tennessee (established. 1803) would include the following:
County
Estab
Miles +/Town
Hillsborough
Orange
1788
0
Orange
1803
7
Elfland
McPern’s Tavrn (Mebane)
Alamance
1752
10
Alamance
1747
20
Haw River
Alamance Battle Ground
Alamance
1771
20
Guilford C. H. (Greensboro) Guilford
1774
20
Dob’s X-Roads (Kernersv’l)
Forsyth
1770
15
Forsyth
1766
20
Old Salem
Forsyth
25
Yadkin River crossing
Huntsville Farms
Yadkin
1797
20
Hamptonville
Yadkin
1738
15
Wilkes*
1777
30
New Castle
Wilkes
1752
20
Moravian Falls
Buffalo Cove
Caldwell on Boone’s Trail to
20
Meat Camp (Near Boone)
Watauga
1770
30
Watauga Settlement
Watauga
1772
20
Down to Nolichucky River to
30
Along Watauga River
25
Crossing into Tenn. @ about Big Bald (Mtn) and on along
Nolichucky River to French Broad River to
Tenn. River at Knoxville, Tennessee
1794
70
Cum. Mi +/0
7
17
37
57
77
92
102
127
147
162
192
212
232
262
282
312
337
407
Then on log rafts and hand-built flatboats big enough to carry all their belongings, wagons
and live stock, down Tenn. River thru what’s now North Alabama & West Tennessee to
Ohio River near Paducah, Kentucky. Up the Ohio River (poling their way) to mouth of
Cumberland River, thence still poling, about 100 miles up the Cumberland to Ft.
Nashborough (est.1780), thence by wagon train again to Harpeth River about 30 miles west
of Nashborough, where they settled. It was quite an ambitious, almost incredible journey,
but they finally made it! The time for this trek would be several months, arriving Dickson
County, TN in the early fall of 1804.
They had gotten up about daybreak that Monday morning, and while Will and his manslave, Mose, fed and watered the four big horses, named Babe, Dawn (she wuz born at daybreak) Blackie, an Bob, and hitched them up to the Conestoga, as the womenfolk were fixing their last breakfast at home; ham and eggs with grits and red-eye gravy, coffee, and hot
hoe cakes with fresh-churned butter, and honey. They didn’t want to start out hungry.
As they sat down at the table Will said the blessing he always said; the one he’d learned
from his pappy, still another William Austin who married Elizabeth Green, “Our Heavenly
Father, we thank thee for these an’ all our blessin’s. Forgive our sins an’ save us, for Jesus
sake. Amen.” As far as I know, this same blessin’ is still used today in the Austin family.
- 10 -
CHAPTER TWO
The four boys were all “travel proud” about the trip. They’d been on short trips, like in to
Hillsborough, the county seat, or over to visit some of their kinfolks about 12 miles south
of Hillsborough near Chapel Hill where the new University of North Carolina had been
started just a few years earlier (in 1795), but never much further than that. So the idea of
leaving home for good, and going on a long trip through the country was pretty exciting,
and even a bit scary, to them.
And especially Philip, age 10, the youngest, who was dubious about the whole idea, and
what kind of troubles they might run into along the way. Philip wasn’t exactly what you’d
call a “worry wart”, but he did wonder a lot about “What if...this?.. or that?..or the other?”
“Pappy,” Phil said, in his worried tone in his voice, “air we gonna see any Injuns on this
trip? An’ if we do, whut’re we gonna do about ’em?” Phil had heard tell of big trouble
from the Redskins, and he didn’t like the idea that they might be surprised by some of ’em,
and even attacked or scalped as they travelled through the Indians’ lands. His father reassured him as best he could.
“We haven’t heard about any Indian trouble around here in a long time, Phil, an’ we have
plenty of muskets an’ gunpowder. An’ besides, a good many of our menfolks fought
against the Indians during the Revolution, so they know all the Indians’ tricks an’ how to
handle ’em.”
But in spite of his pappy’s reassurance, Phil was not convinced. He couldn’t forget the stories he’d heard from some of his buddies about how large bands of Injuns would attack a
caravan of palefaces who were trespassing on their homelands. And he was pretty sure, at
least in his own mind, that there might be some of them lurking along the way they’d be
traveling.
Phil’s brothers, John and Will, were a few years older, and bigger and a bit braver than little
Phil, and they tried to reassure him too.
“Aw, Phil you don’t hav’ ta worry none ’bout them pesky Injuns. Don’tcha know our pappy
an’ th’ others are lots smarter’n they are? An’ don’t fergit, we’ve got guns an’ they don’t.”
They might have added, “unless they ’ve captured some guns from other caravans they’ve
attacked.”
Phil, of course, had no choice but to accept what they said. But he was still more than a little bit concerned, some would say ’apprehensive’, about what would happen if the Injuns
did show up along their way.
Well, it turned out that Indians were not the only thing they had to worry about. Food or
the lack of it, very poor wagon roads, or no roads at all, through mountain ridges and steep
cliffs; and creeks and rivers to ford without any bridges, were just some of their problems.
And as they already knew, various sicknesses and diseases could be expected along the way.
And athough there was a doctor, Old Doc Mathis, in the caravan, there was very little med- 11 -
THE LONESOME STORY
icine, and not much was known about how to treat the dreaded diseases like typhoid,
whooping cough, diphtheria, and pneumonia, except with natural herbs and extracts made
from them.
The first few days of the journey were pleasant enough. From Hillsborough in Orange
County the wagon road that wound westward through rolling hills, and dense woods
towards Efland and Mebane was fairly passable except in bad weather, and although the
spring rains had begun, the roads weren’t too muddy and rutty to get through.
Back in those days the responsibility for keeping rural roads open was parceled out by the
county courts to land owners along the way. There was no such thing as a budget for road
repairs or improvements, but it was agreed that credit for road work by the landowners
(frequently done by their slaves) could be applied toward their annual property taxes.
And so, except for the spring rains, which caused the creeks and streams to rise, and the
roads to become muddy with deep ruts in places, the caravan got along very well. As it
turned out, the Austin’s new Conestoga was the lead wagon, because their driver, Mose, the
Austin’s big brawny man slave, was a natural born horse and mule driver; they called ’em
“muleskinners”, and he also knew more about the roads and trails in that country than
’most anybody else, having worked on them himself along with some of the other slaves.
Like so many of the slaves back in those days, Mose was devoted to his “white folks” owners. He was a trusted servant, almost like a member of the family. And he was a first rate
mukleskinner; he’d grown up around horses and mules, and knew all about how to handle
’em, and get the best performance possible out of ’em.
“Hit’s not so much the size of a hoss; hit’s how you handles him, thet makes all the diffunce,” Mose would say. “And you gotta give ’im the right kind o’ feed, and be sure he gits
plenty o’ water, ifn you wont ’im to keep on workin’.”
In his many years of experience as a teamster, Mose had become a fantastic expert with the
whip. He always carried with him a long hand-plaited raw-hide horse-whip. Curiously
enough, he rarely ever laid the whip on the horses, but he was always in full command of
the team. The pop of his whip (it sounded like a rifle shot) just at the right moment along
the proper side of the team, was all he needed to keep ’em in line and pulling their share of
the load.
But the most impressive thing about Mose and his whip was his accuracy with it. He would
pop it with deadly results, just at the right spot to kill a pesky horse fly or a wasp that might
be botherin’ his horses. If Mose was driving his team along the road and a horse fly landed
on one of the horses’ flanks, Mose would haul off and pop that whip and kill the horse fly
without even touching the horse at all. Mose’s whip was like a weapon, and he’d never hesitate to use it that way if it was needed. And Mose was a pretty good songster too. One tune
he liked to sing was “Oh Mona”. It went something like this:
- 12 -
CHAPTER TWO
Oh Mona
(To be sung responsively)
Leader: Ah wuz gwine down de road,
Chorus: Oh Mona!
Leader: Had a tarr-ud team and uh heavy load.
Chorus: Oh Mona!
Leader: Popped mah whup an’ de lead hoss sprung,
Chorus: Oh Mona!
Leader: Hind hoss busted de wagun tongue
Chorus: Oh Mona! Oh Miss Mona, you shall be free.
Leader: When. bretheren?
Chorus: When de Good Lawd sets you free.
“Oh Mona” has many stanzas all ending with, “When de Good Lawd sets you free.”
clearly implying slavery as the order of the day when it was written. (Ca. 1800)
The first place they came to after they left their place near Hillsborough, was Efland, about
ten miles to the west; just a wide place in the road as folks would say today. It had a tradin’
post, a waterin’ trough for th’ horses, and a handful of log houses, and a brush-arbor
chapel for Sunday morning services, but not much more.
Quite a few of the folks there came out to see the caravan go by. It was the most excitement they’d had since the last wagon train went through about a month before, with their
pioneer families, always heading westward to find new lands and new lives.
As they stopped to water the horses, Will and Mose, and some of the others got down
from their wagons to check their loads and be sure nothin’ was shiftin’ or about to fall off.
And to speak to some of the people who’d come out to see ’em go by.
“Well, how’s thangs around here these days?” Will asked a farmer who had stopped to rest
his team at the waterin’ trough.
“ ’Bout the same as usual,” came the reply. “Not much goin’ on around here to speak of.
Where you’ns headin’ fur, Watauga?”
Will spat tobacco juice on the ground as he spoke, “Naw, we’re goin’ further n’ thet. We’re
hopin’ to git on past Nashborough over inta middle Tennessee, to somewheres along the
- 13 -
THE LONESOME STORY
Harpeth River Valley. We hear tell they’re openin’ up some new settlements over there, and
the State of Tennessee’s sellin’ good rich land fur fifty cents an acre.”
The farmer’s reply was unsettling to Will and the others. “Well I’ll tell ya one thang,” he
said, “You’ns better be mighty keerful when you get over towards thet Watauga settlement.
We ’ve heered them pesky Cherokees is on the warpath agin. Why jes’ t’other day a feller
from Watauga come thew here an’ tole us about how a whole gang o’ them dang Injuns
had ambushed a wagon train jest about like your’n, and made off with jest about everthang
they had an’ then set fire to all th’ wagons!”
“Well now,” said Will, “thet really is sumpin’ to make ya stop an’ think.”
So Will and the other settlers in their wagon train, got their heads together just to be sure
they wanted to continue their trek to Tennessee. And the upshot of it was that as they had
talked it over, it didn’t take long for them to decide they were not goin’ to be buffaloed by
one man’s tall tale about Injuns on th’ warpath. They had put too much time and effort
into decidin’ to make this trek, to turn back so soon after they’d started. So the upshot of it
was that they’d keep on as planned, at least for now, and see if they’d hear any more about
Injun troubles along th’ way.
Well, for the next few days things went along very well. The weather was good, except for
Spring showers, and the wagon train made pretty good progress along the route they’d
mapped out. The menfolk were able to find enough fish and game and wild berries and the
like to supplement the supplies of cured ham, bacon, corn meal, ’taters, and yams, they’d
brought along for food. And although they had an occasional breakdown of a wagon or
two, like the hand brakes wearing out, or a wheel running off, it was nothing they couldn’t
fix with the tools they’d brought along.
But by the time they got to Moravian Falls in Wilkes County, they were hearing more
reports about Injun trouble ahead, along Boone Trail in Watauga County. By now it was
too late to do anything but keep on moving, and keep their muskets ready and a watchful
eye for any possible trouble. Little Phil and some of the other youngsters couldn’t help
overhearing what was going on, and they got even more worried than ever that something
bad was going to happen.
Well, it turned out that about the time they reached the Watauga Settlement over in the
N.C. mountains. They did meet a tribe of Cherokees, but as it turned out the Cherokees
were a friendly lot who enjoyed trading some of their arts and crafts, baskets and pottery,
and the like for the paleface’s home-made jewelry and trinkets. So at least for the time
being, Phil’s concern about the Injuns was not a problem.
- 14 -
CHAPTER THREE
Chapter 3: Middle Tennessee Events and
People (l790-l850)
If you’re wonderin’ what things was like and what people was talkin’ ’bout around here
’bout th’ time William and Ruth an’ their family and friends arrived from North Carolina, I
kin give you a few of the details.
As everybody knows, that is everybody who knows anything about Tennessee history
knows, it was along ’bout this time that, after a long struggle, Tennessee was finally admitted to the Union. It was first separated from North Carolina and established in l790 as The
Territory of the United States South of the River Ohio. This was the same year that my
first owner, William Austin, was born. The capital of the new territory was at
Jonesborough over in what is now East Tennessee in Washington County; and the first territorial governor was William Blount who was born in Bertie County, North Carolina in
l749. -Then in l79l the capital was moved to Knoxville where it remained until it was
moved to Nashville in l843. And on l June l796, after a long political struggle, Tennessee
was finally admitted to the Union as the sixteenth state. John Sevier, who had led the fight
for statehood, was elected the first governor o’ th’ new State of Tennessee.
Dr. William Dickson and the Beginning of Dickson County:
It was not long after Tennessee became a state that our little band of settlers from Orange
County, North Carolina arrived here and settled in the Harpeth River Valley about thirty or
forty miles west of Nashborough. It wasn’t very long after that, as the settlement grew and
prospered, they were able to establish in l803 the new county of Dickson. It was named in
honor of Dr. William Dickson, one of the original band of a group who came to
Nashborough about l780 from across the mountains.
Dr. Dickson, who led the movement to organize the new county, was a native of Duplin
County, North Carolina, born there in 1770. He served in the Tennessee General Assembly
at the time Tennessee was admitted to the Union in 1796, and he and his family lived in
Nashborough (now Nashville). He was a well-known political leader then, and though he
never lived in Dickson County, he took a great deal of interest this area and the band of
settlers from North Carolina who had settled here. So, it was his honor that the name of
Dickson County was chosen.
The original courthouse for the new county was built at Charlotte (named in honor of
James Robertson’s wife) about l804 or l805. This courthouse was destroyed by a tornado in
l830 and many of the early records were lost. It was rebuilt later. The rebuilt courthouse,
now used as a museum, still stands on the square in Charlotte, and is still the county seat of
Dickson County.
The l8l0 census lists the population of Dickson County at 4,5l6, so it was growing rapidly;
and by l820, the year I was built, it was 5,l90. Among these early settlers in Dickson County
- 15 -
THE LONESOME STORY
were families like the Austins (William* and Ruth Kelly Austin and their children), the
Horners, the Fussells, the Pasmores, the Richardsons, the Myatts, the Kerrs (or Carrs), the
Stuarts, the Loggins, the Johnsons, the Halls, and a good many others whose names seem
to escape me right now.
We’re not sure that both William & Ruth Kelly Austin made it all the way to Dickson
County Tennessee. In Obion County Tennessee records, William is said to have died Ca.
1800, the actual records are missing. See also “A History of Dickson County” by Robert
Corlew.
Well, as you can imagine, I’ve known about a lot of people in my time. Some of them
stand out in my memory because of what they did or who they were. There were amongst
the early settlers who came to middle Tennessee in the late 1700s and early l800s, several
who became famous, or sort of famous, and I think worth remembering. Some of these
lived here in Dickson County, and some in neighboring counties.
John Bell, Sr. and The Bell Witch:
For instance, in addition to fellers like Andrew Jackson, John Sevier, James Robertson and
Dr. William Dickson and their cohorts, there was the family of John Bell, Sr. The Bells
come to mind because of some strange and interesting things that happened at their place
over in Robertson County along in the early l800s.
John Bell was born in l750 in Halifax County North Carolina. He met and married Lucy
Williams from Edgcomb County, North Carolina in l782, and they came over here with
their family about l804, and settled on a thousand or so acres of land about 30 miles from
here, up in Robertson County on the Kentucky border near the community of Adams.
There they raised a large family and owned a large number of slaves.
John Bell and his family later became the subject of a lot of talk and gossip because of the
famous (or infamous) Bell Witch whose hair-raising escapades during the early l800s
attracted national attention. The Bell Witch, according to family tradition, was supposedly
the unhappy spirit of Kate, a deceased family member. Her first reported appearance was
to John Bell, Sr. in l8l2, and later she plagued and harassed other family members during
the time from l8l2 to 1818, and still later, off and on over a long period of time up until as
recently as the l930s, these later appearances were reported in local newspapers.
Regardless of whether you believe in ghosts and spirits or not, there is at least one book,
which purports to be serious and factual, written about the Bell Witch by one of John Bell,
Sr’s great grandsons, Charles Bailey Bell, M.D.* All I can say is, the Bells were a well-liked
and well-respected family in their community and around the area. And many people were
convinced that the reported appearances of the Bell Witch were not hoaxes.
*“The Bell Witch,” by Charles Bailey Bell, M.D., Instructor on the brain and nervous
system, University of Nashville School of Medicine, Lark Publishers, Nashville, l934.(Bill Austin has a copy)
- 16 -
CHAPTER THREE
The following is one of the eye-witness accounts about an encounter with the Bell Witch
that appears in this book on page 36-37:
“Frank Miles was one of John Bell, Jr.’s best friends. He was one of the most powerful
men living at that time, and he was always ready to aid the Bell family. He was a man of
some six feet-two inches tall, and weighed about 250 pounds with no surplus flesh. He
had a grip that would crush an ordinary man’s hand, could perform wonderful feats
of strength, and was a man of undoubted courage.
“Mr. Miles did not hesitate to say that if he could ever get the Witch in his grip, he
intended to hold and crush it. He related that on one of his frequent overnight visits with
the Bell family on an extremely cold night, all of his bed covers were suddenly jerked off,
tearing them to shreds as he tried to hold them. The bed-tick was snatched from under
him, and the bed rolled across the room by an unseen force. He had been unable to see
or to grasp the offender in the darkness, but he said that he felt the most forceful blows
about his head and face he had ever encountered. All the while the spirit kept up a most
exasperating laughter, telling him ’he sure was a strong man and could knock the wind
out of the air, but was no match in a tussle with a spirit’ “.
Montgomery Bell:
Another member of the Bell family, perhaps the best-known of all, was Montgomery Bell,
the famous iron master. Some people wonder if Montgomery Bell was from the same family as the Bell Witch Bells. And I suppose if you traced their ancestry back far enough, you’d
probably find a common ancestor back there somewhere. But according to current records
Montgomery Bell’s family was from Chester County, Pennsylvania, near Philadelphia, and
not from Halifax County, North Carolina as were John Bell Sr.’s folks.
Montgomery Bell, was born 3 January l769, as I said, in Chester County, Pennsylvania,
where David Pasmore was from. He was one of nine children of John and Mary Pattison
Bell, and grew up there as an industrious, serious-minded young man who seemed destined
to succeed in whatever he undertook. So it was no surprise that within a few years time he
became very successful in several business ventures.
Shortly after the turn of the century, along about l805, Montgomery Bell came to
Tennessee, bringing with him a number of slaves and a good deal of money. As far as we
know, Montgomery Bell never married. He bought about a thousand acres of land along
the Harpeth River and soon became associated with James Robertson, who among other
things owned and operated the Cumberland Furnace, a major producer of pig iron and
iron castings in this area.
Nothing or no one stood idle around Montgomery Bell. Today he would have been called a
“workaholic”. He was constantly building, expanding, experimenting, working, and digging
the brown ore from these middle Tennessee hills and smelting it into iron, a very profitable
endeavor.
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THE LONESOME STORY
Within a few year’s time Bell was able to buy out James Robertson’s interest in the
Cumberland Furnace, and he continued to operate it, adding several new furnaces and several thousand acres of additional woodland, needed to supply charcoal for the furnaces,
until he became one of the most successful business men in middle Tennessee.
It was during the
l820s that
Montgomery Bell
came up with one of
his best-known projects, his diversion
tunnel through the
Narrows Bluff on
the Harpeth River
about 25 miles
northeast of Dickson
in Cheatham County.
This tunnel goes
through a solid limestone bluff. It was
built with slave labor
in about two year’s
Montgomery Bell’s Narrows Bluff diversion tunnel
time, quite a feat in
itself. About eight feet by fifteen feet in cross section and about a hundred yards long; with
a down-hill slope toward the exit end. When it was finished, about l830, it was used to
divert the waters of the Harpeth River to provide water power for one of Montgomery
Bell’s largest iron works at that location.
The blast furnace and iron works, which supplied guns and ammunition for the
Confederacy during the Civil War, have long-since been destroyed by the ravages of time
and Mother Nature. But Montgomery Bell’s famous tunnel still exists with a goodly portion
of the Harpeth’s waters still flowing through it, forming an impressive waterfall at the exit
end, and attracting thousands of curious visitors each year.
Today Montgomery Bell State Park, right here in Dickinson County and one of Tennessee’s
largest, stands as a memorial to the famous iron master.
*See H.C. Brehm and Cindy Curtis, “The Narrows of the Harpeth and Montgomery
Bell”, Published by H.C. Brehm, 5311 Indiana Avenue, Nashville, Tennessee 37209 (l98l)
- 18 -
CHAPTER FOUR
Chapter 4: The David Pasmore Years
Now I’d like to tell you a bit about David Pasmore, and his part in this “Lonesome Story”.
I’m not 100% certain, but there’s good reason to believe that I (Lonesome) was built on
land owned by David Pasmore on Beaver Dam Creek, my present site. And it was probably
built by David Pasmore as a wedding present to his step-children, William and Dicy Horner
Austin who mere married here in 1819.
Going back a generation or so, it is not certain that William Deux made it over the mountains and on over here to Dickson County, Tennessee. There are reports from Obion
County, Tennessee Archives that he died in Orange County, North Carolina , But his wife
Ruth Kelly Austin and their five sons all made it arriving here about l804 or 1805. And
their daughter, Nancy, was born here in Dickson County, Tennessee about 1804, but I’m
uncertain about what happened to the elder William (Deux), Ruth’s first husband. I believe,
however, that he died, sometime around l805. And then later, about 1808, Ruth Kelly
Austin married David Pasmore, a well-known Revolutionary War veteran, also from Orange
County, North Carolina, and a long-time friend and neighbor of the Austins. As far as we
know, David Pasmore and his family came to middle Tennessee about the same time (about
1805) that Ruth and her boys did, probably in the same caravan with them.
According to Revolutionary War records David Pasmore was born Ca. 1750 in Chester
County, Pennsylvania, just west of Philadelphia, and served in the Revolutionary War with
General Washington during that miserable winter (l777-78) at Valley Forge. He was also at
Yorktown when British General Cornwallis surrendered in l781.
David Pasmore was just a few years older than Montgomery Bell, the famous iron maker
who lived here at that time and who was also from Chester County, Pennsylvania. It is very
likely that David and Montgomery Bell, who is also part of our story, (Chapter 3) were well
known to each other.
David Pasmore’s family, with some of their friends, moved from Pennsylvania to Orange
County, North Carolina a few years after the Revolution, and David was living there when
he met and married his first wife, Catey Randels. Amongst their neighbors in Orange
County, North Carolina (near Hillsborough), were William and Ruth Kelly Austin, and also
the Randels, and the Fussells, and their families. David and Catey Randels were were married there on 13 Nov 1786 according to North Carolina Archives, “Early North Carolina
Marriages”. A few years later David and his family moved from North Carolina to
Tennessee, and about l805, he learned that Ruth Kelly, was now a widow. David’s first wife,
Catey Randels, had died earlier on. So it didn’t take very long for them to realize they needed each other.--David Pasmore and Ruth Kelly Austin were married along about l807, after
they had arrived here in Dickson County, Tennessee.
We don’t know exactly where David and Ruth lived after they were married, but it was
somewhere near here. David owned quite a few tracts of land in Dickson County, including
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THE LONESOME STORY
a land grant, or bounty land, from the Federal Government for his service during the
Revolution. David Pasmore’s land grant is recorded in Dickson County, Tennessee Registry.
And we also know that in l8l8 David bought a tract of land right here on Beaverdam Creek
from a fellow by the name of Bishop Edmon. See Dickson County Registry, Deed - Book
“C”, Page 488, l4 July 1818. We have good reason to believe that this tract was, and is, the
site where I was built in 1819-1820. I’ll tell you more about this later.
David and Ruth had a daughter, Mary Fussell Pasmore, born 27 Feb l808. The name,
Fussell (pronounced “Fuzzell”, came from Ruth’s in-laws. (i.e. Ruth’s daughter-in-law, Dicy
Horner Austin born 23 Dec 1800) was a granddaughter of Moses and Lucy Fussell who
also lived in Orange County, North Carolina.) See Austin family (FTM) records compiled
by Wm. W. Austin, Jr.
I think it’s interesting that David and Ruth thought enough of the Fussells to name their
daughter after them, even they were not directly related to them. There may have been
other ties to the Fussells. This is uncertain but we do know that the Austins, Horners,
Fussells and Pasmores were all well-known and highly regarded by each other. So it’s not
surprising that the name, Fussell, would be handed down to this daughter of David and
Ruth.
As far as I know, David and Ruth and their daughter, Mary Fussell Pasmore; and an older
daughter, Elizabeth, from David’s previous marriage to Catey Randels, continued living
here in Dickson County until after Elizabeth was married to a Mr. Black. They had a son
named William Black, born about 1810; and Mary Fussell Pasmore married Levy Reeder
(also of Dickson County) about this same time. But that’s another story.
A few years later Ruth Kelly Austin Pasmore, died in 1827 “of a bloody flux”, according to
an entry made by her son, Philip Austin in his “Siphering Book” that year. Ruth was still
living in Dickson County, Tennessee when she died. See Philip West Austin’s “Siphering
Book”, River Counties Quarterly, Columbia, Tennessee, April l978, p. 64. This “Siphering
Book” is still in the possession of Philip’s descendants, C.F. and Dorothy Dean Melton
Austin of Mayfield, Kentucky.
Among David and Ruth Kelly Austin Pasmore’s step-children were my first owner, William
Three, and his brothers, John, Philip West, Samuel Demetrious, Charles B. and their sister,
Nancy.
Philip was married first (on 20 Sep 1827) to Mary “Polly” Dudley. Then after Polly died (27
Jan 1833), he was remarried to Sally Gilbert on 18 Mar 1834. They had 14 children.
According to information furnished by Philip’s descendants (C.F. and Dorothy Dean
Melton Austin of Mayfield, Kentucky.), Philip West Austin was married, first on September
20, 1827 to Mary (Polly) Dudley. After Polly died (January 27, 1833), Philip’s 2nd wife was
Sally Gilbert. They wed on March 18, 1834, and had 14 children. In l834 or l835 following
David Pasmore’s death, Philip and his family moved from their home in Dickson County,
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CHAPTER FOUR
Tennessee to Graves County, Kentucky where they both lived until they died, Philip on
September 24, 1872, and Sally on December 29, 1883. They are both buried in the Mt.
Zion Primitive Baptist Church cemetery, Mayfield (Graves County) Kentucky where Philip
served as Elder until his death.
But to get back to my story about Lonesome and its people:
And so it was that in the early l800’s the younger William (Wm. Three) and his brothers
and sister grew up here in Dickson County with their mother, Ruth, and step-father, David
Pasmore. As I said, I don’t know exactly where they lived then, but I do know that in l8l8
David Pasmore bought a tract of land here on Beaverdam Creek from a Bishop Edmon
(Deed Ref. above). It couldn’t have been very far from here, and I’m almost certain that it
was this very tract of land which I now occupy, because I was built right here on
Beaverdam Creek in l8l9-l820. I’ll tell you more about this later. (See Chapter 6).
Well, that’s about enough of what went on during those early years before I was built.
There’s more I could tell about David Pasmore and his family, but we need to get on with
the rest of my story.
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CHAPTER FIVE
Chapter 5: “William & Dicy”
and The War of 1812
So now let’s go back and pick up the story of my first owners, William (Three) and Dicy
Horner Austin. --It was along about l812 that they began to take note of each other.
Although they were both born in Orange County, North Carolina, they had grown up here
in Dickson County and their families were long-time friends. Will had outgrown his dislike
for girls by now, and Dicy was a sweet young thing, l2 years old with long auburn hair (She
was about nine years younger than Will); and Will at age 2l was soon to volunteer for service in the the War of l812.
Dicy’s father, George Wyatt* Horner, Sr. (born about 1760), was a native of Orange
County, North Carolina.
*The relationship between the Wyatts (the source of the author’s middle name) and
Austins from Orange County, North Carolina is definite, but uncertain as to details at
this time (2001).
And Dicy’s mother, nee Elizabeth Fussell (pronounced “Fuzzell”) was a daughter of Moses
and Lucy Fussell, also of Orange County North Carolina. George and Elizabeth Horner
were married in Orange County on 26 June 1793, and Dicy and her brother George Jr.
were born there; Dicy on December 23, l800, and George Jr. on March 4, l803. So the date
of their moving to Tennessee was sometime after 1803, probably around 1805 or 1806.
George and Elizabeth Horner and their two youngsters, Dicy and George Jr., had decided
about 1804 to join up with their friends and neighbors to leave North Carolina and move
over the mountains into the newly-formed state of Tennessee. I’m pretty sure they were in
the same caravan of settlers with William and Ruth Kelly Austin and their four kids, John,
William, Samuel Demetrious, and Philip West. Later on George and Elizabeth Fussell had
two other daughters, Lucy and Delilah, who were born in Dickson County, Tennessee after
the family arrived in Tennessee from Orange County, North Carolina.
So it was that Dicy grew up here in Dickson County, along with her brother and sisters.
and with her groom-to-be, William Austin not far away. But at that time, (about 1812) she
had no idea that he’d be the one.
Back in those days girls growing up in pioneer settlements had to learn, first and foremost,
to be good housewives and homemakers. Families by necessity, were self-sufficient then;
and the women-folk were very important because of their skills, not only at cooking and
house-keeping, but also at all sorts of crafts. especially spinning, weaving, sewing, and soapmaking were all needed to provide the necessities of daily living.
Most Southern families in those days owned slaves, women to do housework and crafts, and
men to work in the fields. I know that Dicy Horner’s family owned some slaves, and I also
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THE LONESOME STORY
know that Dicy’s dowry, when she was married to Will Austin in 1819, included several slaves.
Among the necessary crafts for girls in those days were soap-making, basketry, spinning
and weaving, and of course, sewing, cooking and canning. So Dicy and her sisters learned
about all of these crafts, and Dicy in particular learned very well her skill at the spinning
wheel and hand loom; and as she grew older she became highly regarded throughout the
community for her weaving and sewing.
As a matter of fact Dicy’s granddaughter, Betty Austin, my present owner, still has (1990)
some of Dicy’s fine hand-woven bed spreads and shawls which she treasures highly. Later,
she gave one half of a checkered red and white hand-woven bed cover to her niece,
Elizabeth Austin Haynes, and the other half to her nephew Bill Austin and his wife, Lucia.
They are still among our treasured family possessions.
The War of 1812, Courtship and marriage:
But to get back to my story; early in l8l2 there was a lot of talk going around about another
conflict with Great Britain. --In case you don’t recall exactly how the war of l8l2 got started, I can remember that back then the British had been interfering with U.S. shipping by
harassing our ships. They claimed they were doing this because many British seamen had
deserted their own ships and joined the crews of U.S. ships. So the British would arbitrarily
board any U.S. ship they would meet on the open seas, supposedly to search for and capture deserters. But in the process they were also capturing and hijacking, even jailing, U.S.
sailors, forcing them to serve as sailors on British ships, and generally interfering with our
overseas shipping.
And the British were still upset from the defeat of their Royal Army under General Charles
Cornwallis by General George Washington and the “Minute-Men” et al at Yorktown VA in
1781. In 1812 they were giving aid and support to hostile Indian tribes who were constantly
on the warpath against the U.S. settlers in the west, Mississippi, Tennessee and Kentucky. It
didn’t take much of this sort of thing to get the people around here riled up against the
British because many of them still had vivid memories of l776 and the Revolution that followed. So much bitterness still existed between the defeated British and and the victorious
U.S. colonists.
It was no surprise then that in June of l8l2 the U.S. Congress, in response to President
James Madison’s request, declared war on Great Britain. Most everyone in Tennessee was
very much in favor of this new war because they were fed up with the British stirring up
the Indians, and even threatening to invade the U.S. from the Gulf coast at New Orleans,
and advance up the Mississippi River into Tennessee.
Tennessee had arms and ammunition ready, with an outstanding military leader, Major
General Andrew Jackson, in command. Jackson, the able young red-headed lawyer was
born in l767 at Waxhaw on the North Carolina-South Carolina border. By l8l2, though he
was too young to have been involved in the Revolutionary War, he had won recognition
and the rank of Major General, mainly in skirmishes against hostile Indians.
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CHAPTER FIVE
So when General Jackson organized his forces in the spring of l8l2, he had over 2,000 volunteers, from Tennessee. (Because of these, Tennessee became known as “The Volunteer
State”.) About l,400 of these were cavalrymen and 700 more were infantrymen. Among
these was one William Austin of Dickson County who volunteered for service on July 6,
l8l2 at Clarksville, Tennessee, only a few miles from his home in Dickson County.
According to U.S. Army military records, he was assigned to the First Regiment, Tennessee
Militia (cavalry) to serve first under Captain James Hamilton, and later under Captain
Cuthbert Hudson.
As the war wore on several regiments of these Tennessee cavalrymen, a hardy lot of farmers and frontiersmen, were dispatched down the Natchez Trace, a primitive trail connecting
Nashville with outposts in Natchez, Mississippi and in Louisiana, plus 700 infantrymen by
flat-boats down the Mississippi River from Memphis, to repel the threatened invasion by
the British along the Gulf Coast.
So our young Will Austin, age 21, following his enlistment, was promoted to the rank of
Corporal during the Natchez Campaign. And later he was with General Jackson at the
Battle of New Orleans in which (as most everyone knows) the British were soundly defeated in a battle on 8 Jan 1815 that occurred two weeks after the peace treaty was signed ending the war. Back then communications were by land or by sea only; present-day communications were not even dreamed of.
According to Charles Kuralt*, the Battle of New Orleans was fought at Chalmette, LA.
*“Charles Kuralt’s America”, Putnam and Sons 1995.
About 15 miles miles downstream from New Orleans proper, where as Kuralt puts it, “It
was easy to imagine the brilliant array of British soldiers, scarlet coated dragoons, and
proud Highlanders, in their regimental tartans, several thousands of them, under the
command of the chivalrous and debonair General Sir Edmund Pakenham-- charging
across the battlefield with drums rolling, pipes playing and muskets blazing. While waiting for them behind a wall of cotton bales was an American conglomeration of Tennessee
volunteers (including our Will Austin), Kentucky long riflemen, Louisiana militiamen, a
collection of Creoles and Cajuns, and even a band of pirates under the infamous Jean
Lafitte. The pirates’ firm dislike for the British came from long-term conflicts between
pirates and the British who were often victims of piracy.”
According to Kuralt, “The entire Battle of New Orleans lasted no more than an hour or
two. When it was over General Packenham and most of his senior officers, and about
two thousand British soldiers were dead or captured, and the rest were in flight, whilst
American casualties numbered an unlucky 13. General Jackson and his men went back
to New Orleans in triumph. They rang the bells of the Cathedral and placed a laurel
wreath on Jackson’s shaggy head, while eighteen pretty girls representing the then eighteen states, cast flowers in his path. Today there is a majestic statue of General Jackson,
the conquering hero astride his rearing horse in the public square at New Orleans.”
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THE LONESOME STORY
So, Will and his fellow Tennessee Volunteers returned to Nashville still led personally by
General Jackson who had by then become a national hero, known affectionately by his men
as “Old Hickory” because of his tough character and staunch leadership. It was no surprise
that a few years later, in 1839, Jackson was elected the 7th President of the United States.
After their triumphant return to Nashville, Will received an honorable discharge signed by
General Jackson himself. (See accompanying copy below.) Will later received a land grant
from the State of Tennessee for his service in the War of l8l2. Deed reference: recorded at
Dickson County Registry of Deeds, Charlotte, Tennessee.
When he returned home in the Spring of 1813, a handsome young soldier, 23, six feet tall
with fair complexion, blue eyes, and dark brown hair, Will was welcomed warmly by his
family and friends, including the Horners and Fussells and young Dicy who at age l5,
thought he was just about the handsomest soldier she had ever seen. It was no big surprise
that four years later she would become Mrs. William Austin.
But at first Will was hesitant, some would say bashful. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to
do, although he realized that this was the time to make serious plans and carry them out.
Being a triumphant returning veteran, and handsome to boot, he attracted the attention of
the opposite sex. It was well known that he probably would receive a substantial land-grant
for service in the U.S. Army. So these gals figured this Will would be a pretty good catch.
We don’t know how many of these eligible maidens Will was involved with, but we do
know which one of them he finally married.
As time passed William and Dicy began to see more of each other, a lot more. And by the
time she was l9 they decided to get married. Of course in those days it was necessary for
the groom to get permission from the bride’s father (and mother) before their engagement
was announced. And the idea of the bride coming with a dowry from her father was still a
common practice.
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CHAPTER FIVE
Dicy’s slaves:
We don’t know for sure that Dicy and William got an actual dowry from her father, but we
do know that part of Dicy’s inheritance from her parents involved some slaves. According
to Dickson County records (Registry of Deeds, Book “F”, Page 4 26, December 10, 1811.)
Dicy received part ownership of a slave woman named Jude and any children Jude might
have later. The birth of at least one of these slave children, Sarah Horner, on June 27, l830,
is recorded in William and Dicy’s family Bible. (See accompanying copies of William
Austin’s family Bible records.)
As a matter of fact, my former owner, Betty Austin Aston, then at age 99, had a clear recollection of “Aunt Sarah”, daughter of Dicy’s slave Jude, who was still working for the family when she, Betty, was a small child about 1898 or 1899. She tells about the time when she
was about eight or nine years old, and living with her foster parents, mammy and pappy
(Josiah Clifton, & Mary Zenab “Zenie” Alspaugh) in Burns.
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THE LONESOME STORY
One day former slave “Aunt Sarah”, about 70 at the time, came in the kitchen where
Mammy was about to share a fresh-made hoecake with her foster daughter, Betty. But
when Aunt Sarah came in, Mammy cut the hoecake into three wedge shaped pieces of different sizes, and Aunt Sarah took the larger of the three. This upset little Betty, and though
she didn’t say anything, she felt that she should have had one of the larger slices. --A curious first-hand memory of a small event of 90 years earlier with a former slave. But that
was our Aunt Betty; she was full of interesting and often funny, anecdotes about friends
and family, and she liked nothing better that to share them with us. In fact she is responsible for many of the details contained here in my story.
Back in those days (1861-65) it was not at all unusual for slaves, who were all freed by
President Lincoln’s 1862 Emancipation Proclamation during the Civil War, to remain with
their masters’ families and continue to work indefinitely even though they had been freed.
This is exactly what happened in Aunt Sarah’s case. In many families slaves were like a part
of the family; and though they had lived a life of servitude, this was the only life that they
had ever known. So even although they had been freed, many stayed with their masters’
families and they were compensated by free room and board, and other amenities. When
the slaves were well-treated, as they usually were, they considered food and lodging and the
care and security they received from their former owners’ families, more desirable than
being free but responsible for their own livelihood in an often hostile environment.
Later William and Dicy sold some of their slaves to friends and neighbors like Andrew
Brown, and some to the parents of J. Fulton Tidwell who would become part of my story
during of the Civil War. At least three of these slaves are buried in my family cemetery
right here on the banks of Beaver Dam Creek. They are listed in the cemetery records as
Tidwell slaves. See Chapter X “The Austin-Alspaugh Cemetery.”
Will and Dicy’s life with me was eventful with the advent of ten kids, and the acquisition of
a great deal of land. (See accompanying map “Lands of Wm. Austin 1790-1876”.) Our
Aunt Betty remembers that at one time Wm & Dicy owned about 800 acres of land along
the Beaver Dam Creek some of which was bounty land granted by the State of Tennessee
for service in the War of 1812 (See Dickson County Deed Book Ref.), and some was
acquired by purchase from adjacent land owners.
But not all of their lives here was pleasant. One tragic summer, in 1855, stands out in my
memory. Back in those days people were subject to many dreadful diseases, including,
small-pox, tuberculosis, typhoid fever, and others. And medical treatments were usually
home-made remedies from roots, leaves, herbs, and the like, some of which were effective,
but others more like superstition. In rural areas medical doctors were called only in dire
cases. This was the case in that tragic summer of 1855 when three of William & Dicy’s
daughters all came down with typhoid fever, a contagious and often fatal illness. They were:
Elizabeth Green 26, named for her grandmother, Dicy Jane, 21, named for her mother, and
Minerva Emaline 20. All three died within five weeks during August and September. A
tragic summer indeed!
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CHAPTER FIVE
Lands of William Austin - 1790-1876
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THE LONESOME STORY
- 30 -
CHAPTER SIX
Chapter 6: Life in a New Log House,
Built l819-1820
The year was 1818 and young Will, 28 and his bride to be, Dicy Horner, 18 were about to
be wed. We aren’t sure just where the wedding took place, probably at the bride’s home
since neither of them was well-to-do. But there were plenty of well-wishers present, including both sets of parents and kids Dicy’s folks; George Wyatt and Elizabeth Fussell Horner,
and Will’s mother; Ruth Kelly Austin Pasmore (Mrs David), and his step-dad David
Pasmore; the famous Revolutionary War hero who had married Will’s mom after Will’s dad,
William Deux Austin died about 1802.
My builders, who were well-known to the newly-weds William and Dicy Horner Austin,
and I am fairly certain that David Pasmore had a hand in the house-building because
amongst those whom we know were here then, and who also purchased land on
Beaverdam Creek in l8l8, was David Pasmore, William’s step-father, a Revolutionary War
veteran, and close friends of the Austins. According to the Dickson County, Tennessee
Registry, a deed with Grantee, David Pasmore was recorded in 1818. The deed description
on this property fits the location and terrain (Beaver Dam Creek) here at Lonesome, and
the date of purchase l8l8, coincides with the date when I was built, l8l8-l8l9. Since David
Pasmore, in about l805 had married William’s mother, Ruth Kelly Austin, after the death of
William’s father, William Deux Austin; and the fact that William and Dicy later named their
firstborn David Pasmore Austin (b 3-12-1822), confirms a very favorable and close relationship between William and Dicy and William’s step-father, David Pasmore.
All of these facts support the idea that I was built on land owned by David Pasmore; and
that after I was finished, I was deeded to William and Dicy Horner Austin, who were the
first ones to actually live here.
A New Log House is Built:
Regardless of who did my actual construction, it’s clear that certain things had to be done;
things like finding a good site protected from severe weather, with a suitable source of
drinking water. So here on the banks of Beaverdam Creek in slightly rolling terrain, with
my cool spring gently bubbling crystal clear water beneath the shade of a small triple-oak
tree, my builders decided this was the place.
Within a few weeks the site had been cleared, and enough sturdy chestnut logs had been
cut from the surrounding woodlands to build my walls. Many wagon loads of field stones
were gathered and hauled to the site to build my foundation piers and huge chimneys and
fireplaces.
But this was only the beginning. The chore of hand-hewing my logs into uniform timbers
for my walls and roof was a monumental task, requiring great skill and strength. The usual
three-step procedure for making wall timbers from logs consisted of (1) placing the dried
and cured logs horizontally on a specially built rack about six or eight feet tall, to which
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THE LONESOME STORY
they would be clamped in place, while two “sawyers”, one
atop the rack and the other below would wield the six-feetlong cross-saw held vertically, so as to convert the round
logs into huge rough-cut square timbers to slightly over-sized
dimensions, and (2) using a carpenter’s adz to hand hew the
rough-cut logs to the desired furnished dimensions. This
produces the characteristic chop-marks along the finished
surfaces. Then (3) after each log is cut to the desired length,
to hand cut the ends with saw and adz to produce the ingenious dove-tail corner joints, so that when assembled into
walls they required no pins or pegs and are held in place only
by gravity (see accompanying photos), thus forming tight-fitting secure walls, with the least possible space left between
the logs to be chinked with a mixture of clay and sand.
My pioneer builders could afford only very limited amounts
of mill-finished lumber and building hardware. There simply
were no sawmills or metal-working shops anywhere in this
area, and without railroads these materials had to be shipped
by river boats and hauled many miles by wagons over very
primitive trails. So ingenuous ways were developed to make,
by skilled hand labor from whatever materials could be
found, the various hardware items needed to complete a livable dwelling.
Door latches, for example, were hand-made from wood and
installed so that the latch bar was on the inside of the door.
A rawhide latch string was attached to the pivoted latch bar
so that the free end of the latch string could be passed
through a small hole in the
door just above the latch bar. In this way, the latch could be
opened from the outside of the door only if the latch string
was out, giving rise to the saying, “the latch-string is out,”
meaning the door is not locked. This type of latch, still in
working order, is on the doorway to the attic bedroom at
Lonesome, halfway up the stairway.
Equally ingenious was the skill of the stone masons, cutting
and fitting the limestone rocks and boulders to build my
chimneys and fireplaces. My stone work was so skillfully done
that little or no mortar was needed to secure it. The main fireplace opening downstairs is six feet across and over four feet
high, spanned by a skillfully laid stone arch and keystone.
There was a smaller fireplace, in the same chimney, upstairs.
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CHAPTER SIX
The large fireplaces served not only as the main sources of heat in the winter, they were
also used for cooking, and to some extent as a source of light because candles and fuel for
oil lamps were also hard to come by in my earlier years.
My original floor plan was something like the drawing shown here. You will note that my
original construction consisted of two large log rooms downstairs, joined by a breeze-way,
or “dog trot”. The room on the west was the kitchen and eating area, with its own fireplace
and eating area, while the room on the east was the main living area. Upstairs over both
rooms were attic bed-rooms.
I also recall that some of our slaves lived there, sleeping in the upstairs area over the
kitchen. Later, after the slaves were sold (or freed by President Lincoln’s Emancipation
Proclamation in 1862), and after William & Dicy’s children were all grown, this west room
and dog-trot were no longer needed, so they were torn down. And following that, the present add-on kitchen was built where the dog-trot used to be. I can’t recall exactly when this
was done but it was probably along in the late l860’s or early l870’s after the Civil War was
over in 1865.
I know that William and Dicy’s son Calvin Franklin Austin; born 1836, volunteered to serve
in CSA, Regiment 11th Tennessee Infantry Company “K”. See Chapter 7.
And so, with the help of friends and neighbors and some slaves, I was built and ready for
use along about l8l9 or l820. William and Dicy, my first occupants, moved in a year or so
before their first child, David Pasmore was born in 1822; and all the rest of their eleven
kids were born here in the following years. But that’s another chapter.
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CHAPTER SEVEN
Chapter 7: Lonesome during the Civil War,
1861-65
As far as I can recall, I was not directly involved in the Civil War, but I do recall that by the
time of the Civil War Wm & Dicy’s children had grown up to become responsible adults.
In 1862 The State of Tennessee under Gov. Ishasm G. Harris voted overwhelmingly (17-1)
to secede from the Union, and become part of The Confederate States of America. At that
time a call went out for volunteers in the Tennessee Regiments of the Confederate Army.
The response was so tremendous that Tennessee was known once more as The Volunteer
State, a name still in use today.
Among the volunteers was Calvin Franklin Austin, age 25, son of William and Dicy, who
joined The 11th Tennessee Infantry, Co.“K” of Dickson County under Capt. William
Thedford, and served later under Capt. Franklin Fulton Tidwell*.
During 1862 they were involved in Battles of Murphreesboro, Chicamauga, and at
Missionary Ridge near Chattanooga; later they repelled Union forces in the area of
Cumberland Gap and Bean Station in northeast Tennessee.
Civil War data, including the above battles are available on the Internet. i.e “Time line
of the American Civil War with year by year overview of events of the Civil War, 18611865, Documents of the Civil War, State Battle Maps.”
An interesting insight into Calvin’s life in the Confederate Army is found in the following
excerpts from a poignant letter he and his buddy, M.V. Adcock, wrote home during the
time (Nov. 1862) they were in East Tennessee. (See “History of Dickson County” by Robt.
Corlew, p. 106):
...“all the boys is better satisfied than they have been since we left home, ...I reckon we
will take winter quarters here. We are at Cumberland Gap. ...All the boys is getting along
well but William Tatum. He has had the mumps very bad, and Burrell Clifton is mending
very slow. Him & Tatum is expecting to get furlows home... The first thing I could eat
was sum soup that Jack made of an old hen he got holt of on the road. It was the best
soup I ever eat, but it would have been a heep better if that bug hadn’t fell in it... I want
you to write me as often as you can, and give me all the news you can... Love Calvin.”
It was Capt. F F. Tidwell*, who later wed Magdalene Knox Petty, and whose large family
included Annie Tidwell who married Emory Alspaugh. This produced a direct tie with the
Austin Family. Other Dickson County natives in Company “K”, were Josiah C. Alspaugh,
Josiah Tidwell, Calvin’s buddy, M.V. Adcock, N.J. Luther, J.W. Phillips et al.*
*“Military Annals of Tennessee” (Confederate) Regimental Histories etc.
Published at Nashville, Tennessee, 1886. pp. 293 et seq. (copy of this reference is available at Wm. W. Austin, Jr. 10 Creekside Woods, Swansboro, NC 28584).
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THE LONESOME STORY
After the Confederates surrendered at Appomattox Court House VA April 9, 1865 Calvin
was mustered out (discharged) at their base in East Tennessee, but without pay or any form
of transportation to this home in Dickson County. So he and several of his buddies had to
hike home a distance of about 250 miles. During this long hike Calvin carved a walking
stick from a tree limb; He used it all the way home, and kept it until he died in 1897.
Several years after his death the cane was passed down to his youngest child, Ruth
Elizabeth Austin who in turn passed it to her nephew Bill Jr. Austin, co-author of this
book. It is now a prominent article appropriated with a small Confederate battle flag, in our
AUSFAM souvenir case.
Several years after his discharge from the Confederate Army, Calvin met and married a
young widow, Lurana “Raney” Elisabeth Anderson Thomas (Mrs. James). Their marriage
on December 9, 1877, is recorded in the Dickson County, Tennessee records.
Another bit of insight into the life of Calvin F. Austin is from his youngest child, Ruth
Elizabeth Austin’s earliest and only positive memory of her dad at age four, shortly before
he died 2-27-1897. On coming by to see her at her foster home with Calvin’s youngest sister, Mary Zenab “Zenie” Austin Alspaugh, (Mrs. Josiah Clifton Alspaugh), who had adopted Betty soon after her mother, (Lurana “Raney” Elisabeth Anderson Austin, Mrs. C.F.)
died in 1891. Calvin’s reply to his sister Zenie, on being asked how he was feeling, was, “My
neck hurts, it needs a hug.” This was Betty’s cue to give her dad a big hug around the neck,
which made them both feel a lot better! Aunt Betty, now at age 100, would tell this story
about her dad whenever she was asked about her memories of him, a touching memory of
her childhood.
Calvin F. Austin’s birth year 1836 is the year of the infamous Battle of the Alamo (Feb.
1836) in which all 180 US troops were massacred by Mexican army led by General Antonio
Santa Anna. Among those killed were David Crockett and James Bowie, well-known pioneers of that era. The Mexicans were later defeated by U.S. troops whose battle cry
“Remember the Alamo” still reverberates through the halls of U.S. History.
The Alamo is now a National shrine at San Antonio, TX. And the year 1836 is a historic
year in U.S. history, as well as in the Austin family!
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CHAPTER EIGHT
Chapter 8: Lonesome, the last hundred years
It seems fitting that I should wind up my story with a description of what has happened to
me in recent years, and what is happening currently. The following are thumb-nail reviews
of some of the people and main events that I have seen in the last 100 years or so:
For example in the mid 1850’s, the Methodist Rev. Henry and Emily Clifton Alspaugh had
5 kids living at Mountain City, Tennessee. Soon after the death in 1852, of Rev. Henry
Alspaugh, his widow, Emily, decided to
move to Dickson County, Tennessee to
be near the families of her siblings who
had settled on the Piney River near
Dickson, Tennessee. One of her brothers, came to Mtn. City to help Emily
and the five kids with the arduous move
via covered wagon 200+ miles to Piney
River in Dickson County, Tennessee.
During the long trek little John Henry,
became ill, and our Aunt Betty, at an
early age (about 12 in 1901) remembers
Emily Alspaugh on the porch at Lonesome, ca. 1900
her Aunt Emily describing the long
journey, and how she had feared that little John Henry, not yet one, would die on the way.
But they made it, and the Alspaugh kids grew up to become an important part of the
Austin clan in Dickson County. i.e. the eldest, Josiah Clifton Alspaugh, met and wed
William and Dicy Austin’s youngest, Mary Zenbab “Zenie”. (She was my owner then, having inherited me from her father, William, when he died in 1876.) It was she who was Aunt
Betty’s foster mother. Because of this the Austins and Alspaughs became a close-knit family and an important part of my story. As the years passed, Emily and her brood found it
hard to make ends meet. So about 1890, Josiah Clifton Alspaugh and wife Zenie decided to
move his mother, Emily and her family from Piney River to live with me. They lived here
until 1908 when Emily died.
Left to right: Josiah Clifton Alspaugh holding Madge
Alspaugh; Emily Clifton Alspaugh holding William Emory
Alspaugh, Jr.; William Emory Alspaugh, Sr. Photo taken at
Lonesome at Emily Clifton’s 94th Birthday, June 21, 1907.
(Four generations)
Standing: Ann Maria Lee Alspaugh, Emily Catherine
Alspaugh Richardson, Frances Alspaugh Baker/Wimberly,
Mary Cornelia Alspaugh Graham. Seated: Josiah Clifton,
Emily Clifton Alspaugh, John Henry Alspaugh.
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THE LONESOME STORY
It was Emily’s eldest, Josiah Clifton Alspaugh and Zenie, who had inherited Zenie’s folks
home place, me (Lonesome) from her dad, William Austin (m. Dicy Horner). So about
1890 they decided to move Josiah’s mom, Emily and her family from Piney to Lonesome
where they lived for a good many years. They stayed here with me until about 1908 when
Emily died, and her kids had moved on.
Early in the 1900’s: I was rented by my owner, William & Dicy’s youngest, Mary Zenab
“Zenie” Austin Alspaugh, to Benjamin & Eugenia Lomax Austin. Benjamin was a son of
Will’s brother, George Wyatt & Mary Ann Tidwell Austin. George was the dad of cousin
Marie Austin Brown. (Family details are on file in Bill Austin II’s “Family Tree Maker” program.) Later I was rented to a family of Gray’s who had been chosen to look after the elderly Dr. Mathis, my next neighbor up creek from Lonesome, and a favorite Doctor in our
Burns, Tennessee neighborhood for many years. The road off Hwy 96 adjacent to my
cemetery is still called Mathis Road.
In 1912 I was deeded to Ruth Elizabeth “Betty” Austin (REAKA) as her 21st Birthday gift
on February 6, 1912 by my owner, her Aunt Zenie, who was also Betty’s foster mother.
Betty lovingly called her “Mammy”, and her husband J.C. Alspaugh was “Pappy”.
In 1913 Betty married John (Jack) Alan Kimbro (b. 1882-d. 1926) and moved to Nashville.
Jack worked for the North Carolina and SL Railroad and The Brotherhood of Railway
Trainmen. So they could travel free by train anywhere in the U.S. But they always came
back to spend time with me when they could.
In 1918 I got my name “Lonesomehurst” or just plain “Lonesome” from my owner,
“Zenie” . See “The Little Glass Hen” (Chapter 1).*
I was vacant from 1918 to 1940 with occasional visits by my owner Betty Kimbro Aston et
al. My first 6 volt electric wiring and lights were installed by Betty’s friends, the Oliver
Braggs, in 1926.
After 1940 I was used by Betty & her niece, Madge Alspaugh, et al as a summer vacation
place.
Then in 1959-60 Betty had me renovated and modernized with electric lights and plumbing, and an electric pump in a new spring house, plus a big concrete screened porch clear
across my front.
From then on I was used by Betty & Madge Alspaugh Gibson as a regular summer home
with scores of visitors each summer.
Madge died in Tulsa in 1980 after a series of strokes. She was cremated and her ashes
placed beside her Alspaugh relatives in my Cemetery. (See Austin/Alspaugh cemetery plot
in Chapter X.)
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CHAPTER EIGHT
Lonesome as it looks today
In 1984 my owner Betty, moved from her
home in Tulsa, OK to Springmoor
Retirement Community, Raleigh, North
Carolina. She had broken her hip and
needed to be near her nephew, Bill Austin,
co-author of this story. She made several
visits back to see me with Bill and his
wife, Lucia, and their children. She willed
me to her great nephew, William W.
Austin III, my fourth and present owner.
One of my recent memorable events was
the celebration of Bill and Lucia’s 50th
wedding anniversary and Betty’s great
niece, Lynn Austin Rouse and her husband, Jim Rouse’s 25th anniversary on
June 28, 1989. We had family members
from as far away as California and Florida.
Some other pleasant memories worth
mentioning are the good times my folks
have had when they come to see me.
There are always lively conversations, playing games, singing favorite songs, and
The Courtin’ Tree
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THE LONESOME STORY
enjoying the invigoratingly cool waters of
our Beaver Dam Creek. A favorite pastime is
building a hand-made dam, in the creek, of
rocks, logs, and whatever they can find, to
provide a pool to splash in, skip flat stones
across, or to rig a small water wheel below
the dam and watch it spin as the currents
flow over the dam. We like to say, “There’s
never a harsh word, and never a dull
moment” when my family comes to see me!
The Austin Clan cools off in Beaver Dam Creek
Aunt Betty lived a long and happy life until
December 10, 1994 when she died of pneumonia at age 103. Her body was cremated
and her ashes buried at my Cemetery; her
epitaph reads, “In others she sought the
best, always she found it.” I will end my
story with the tribute to her by her great
niece, Lynn Austin Rouse.
This year I will proudly celebrate my 181st
birthday in September of 2001. I have continued to have family members come by to visit
me. Many have stayed right here with me enjoying sleeping in our Aunt Paralee Frasher’s
antique bed and eating off my old table on the porch, under my old ceiling fans. They were
donated by Aunt Betty’s Boston Avenue Methodist Church, Tulsa in 1940 when the church
got air-conditioning.
And this summer (2001) we’re having a big celebration of the publication of this book,
“The Lonesome Story”. It will be a fitting climax to the long process of gathering pictures
and background data about
me and putting it all together.
Quod Erat Demonstrandum
= Q.E.D.
= Quite Enough Done
Favorite Austin Family pastime - dam building.
This one was built in 1993 complete with water wheel.
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CHAPTER EIGHT
As a conclusion to my story it seems only fitting that we repeat Lynn Austin Rouse’s
Tribute to her Great Aunt Betty. Here it is:
A Tribute to Ruth Elizabeth Austin Kimbro Aston 1891-1994
by her great niece, Lynda Meade Austin Rouse
Read at Aunt Betty’s memorial service Dec. 1994
Some Memories of our Aunt Betty, and Lonesome...
In the gospel of John, Jesus is talking to his disciples
about what to expect during His death and resurrection
(John 16:20): “Verily, verily, I say unto you, that ye shall
weep and lament, but the world shall rejoice...and your
sorrow shall turned into joy.”
Joy! I like to think this word fits Aunt Betty. She always
had a smile for everyone. I remember going to Lonesome
as a child, and she would be there with Madge (her niece)
waiting for our arrival. --What a great welcome she would
have for us! Rocking chairs on the large screened porch,
ceiling fans running, and fresh tomatoes and cucumbers,
peeled and sliced. The cool, clear waters of the creek; the
limestone caves with their dark mysteries.
Aunt Betty walking down to the creek
We would visit Lonesome to enjoy all this, and more.
After dinner to enjoy playing games and singing on the
porch. What more joy could a family ask for? These are some of my fondest childhood
memories!
I also remember when Aunt Betty moved to Springmoor in Raleigh in 1985; and we spent
more time with her there since it was closer in miles than Lonesome. She always wanted me
to do her hair, cut it and perm it; which I always did gladly. She liked manicures too. She
wanted me to paint each nail light pink, her favorite color. and I would always gladly do this
for her too.
She was quite a lady! Her joy rubbed off on me, and I always felt good when I was with
her. I know that her joy was the joy of the Lord.
In John 21:15 Jesus talks to Peter, and He says the same thing to each of us today, “Follow
me.” --Aunt Betty made her decision early in life to answer His call. Her decision was to be
different, and to make a difference; to stand up for Jesus and to stay standing always; to
have joy and to be joyful, in good times and in bad times. “Stand sure” was the ancient
motto of her ancestors, The Anderson (McAndrew) clan in their native Scotland.
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THE LONESOME STORY
Aunt Betty spent her life knowing that when He called her name she had made a difference in
other people’s lives. She always stood firm, and she followed Jesus’ “straight and narrow path.”
In this season of advent we are asked to wait and prepare our hearts for the coming of Christ.
I think it is quite fitting that Aunt Betty’s final days here were spent during advent. She was
waiting and she was prepared for that wonderful day when she would see Our Lord.
Last Sunday, the third Sunday of Advent, Joy Sunday, we lit a pink candle, symbolic of happiness and joy in knowing that Christ is coming. And last Sunday, Joy Sunday, December 11,
1994, our Aunt Betty stepped through the door into eternal joy.
But her memory will always be with us. Her whole life says, “I have found true joy. It is following our Savior, Jesus Christ. It is being His hands and feet here on earth.” So Aunt Betty
says to us, “Step into my shoes now. Carry the light of Joy into the world around you. Make
decisions to be different and to make a difference; to stand up for Jesus, and stay standing. To
have joy and be joyous. By doing so you will also know that when your Joy Sunday comes that
you too can step into the new kingdom of Joy, and be with Jesus, the King of Kings and Lord
of Lords,” and also with our Aunt Betty, and with all those who answered His call when he
said, “Follow me.”
What a great welcome they will have for us! The rocking chairs will be on the porch, the ceiling fans will be turning, and the tomatoes and cucumbers peeled and sliced. And the cool,
clear creek waters and the mysterious limestone caves will have answers for us. We will visit on
the porch for awhile, play games and sing praises to the King! Amen.
William W. Austin, Jr., William Josiah Alspaugh,
Ruth Elizabeth Austin Kimbro Aston, and Elizabeth Alspaugh Beasley
on the porch at Lonesome.
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CHAPTER X
Lonesome Chapter X: The Austin-Alspaugh
Family Cemetery
Family cemeteries have been traditional since ancient times. An area in
the family tract is set aside and designated as the final resting place where
deceased family members will be laid
to rest with appropriate tombstones
to mark and identify them.
My cemetery is no exception. Soon
after I was completed in 1819-20, an
area of about one acre was set aside
by William & Dicy Austin, my first
owners, in the northwest corner of
my tract. Today this cemetery is just
off State Highway 96, and along the
west side of the entry road to where
I stand.
William & Dicy’s Great Great Great Grandson, Richard Owen,
reads the gravestone of one of his ancestors
According to dates on the grave markers, the earliest grave (in 1851) was for William Jasper
Austin, son of my first owners, William and Dicy Austin, followed in 1855 by three of
William and Dicy’s daughters who died of typhoid within one week in the summer of that
year. They were, Minerva Emaline, d. August 24, Dicy Jane d. August 29, and Elizabeth
Green d. September 3, a tragic week indeed.
My cemetery also contains the graves of other children of William and Dicy including
Calvin Franklin Austin d. February 27, 1894 and his wife Lurana Elisabeth, d. October 4,
1891, and also Mary Zenab “Zenie“ Alspaugh, William and Dicy’s youngest who inherited
me from her parents, She died May 7, 1922, and was buried with her husband Josiah
Clifton Alspaugh who died December 22, 1918.
It was Zenie and J.C. Alspaugh who deeded me to their foster daughter, Betty Austin on
her 21st birthday, so the Alspaughs became members of my family, and several of them are
buried here.
My most recent grave is that of William and Dicy’s granddaughter Betty, who inherited me
from her foster parents. She was born February 6, 1891 and died December 10, 1994 at
age 103. Her epitaph reads, “In others she sought the best, always she found it.“
Altogether there are about forty graves in my cemetery, including the graves of several
slaves of my families. But many of the graves have no markers.
(See attached map on next page for details.)
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THE LONESOME STORY
- 44 -
CHAPTER X
Actual drawing of the Lonesome Cemetery by Betty Austin Aston in September of 1964
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THE LONESOME STORY
This is a description of the property that was given to Betty Austin Aston on her 21st Birthday,
Feb. 6, 1912, by her Aunt (and foster mother) Zenie Alspaugh. This document also shows four more
acres deeded to Betty on June 1, 1921.
(See accompanying map on following page.)
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THE LONESOME STORY
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THE LONESOME STORY
- 48 -
The Lonesome Poem
– By Kimberley Pauline Rouse (1988)
There is an old farmhouse all run down and used,
And all around it lie meadows covered in dew.
It is so nice to watch nature grow
Foggy, peaceful, quiet and all alone; how I love it so.
Every now and then you can see a deer or a rabbit
Relaxing, pulling yourself together what a wonderful habit.
There isn't much more you can ask for.
It's a log cabin with a wood floor.
All along the deep and beautiful forest lies grass that is so green.
There is a stream, flowing narrowly; it's the prettiest thing I've ever seen.
Many memories are held deep in its soul
It's like magic; you're able to clear your head and become again whole.
The place is very sacred and very dear.
It wipes away any small tear.
The loving in this lonesome place
Reaches out and practically kisses your face.
When you are there you can sing, swim or hike
Not always am I there, but I go there in my thoughts as much as I like.
Lonesome is a place that words can't explain.
There, there isn't much heartache, worry or pain.
It's like a place deep in my dream,
When I leave my heart has a special gleam.
Can't you see now this place is just great
Leaving, going home is what I really hate.
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Dear Lonesome
– Song lyrics by Lynda Austin Rouse (1988)
We came from our very own states
This important date to make
Around Nashville Town we did come
Each and every one, to dear Lonesome
We feel so great now, don’t make us go home.
Eighteen and twenty was the year
William and Dicy Austin came here
Around Nashville Town they did come
From North Carolina to dear Lonesome
They felt so great here, they never went home.
The years have come and gone
And Lonesome has seen each dawn
40 miles from Nashville Town in Burns, Tennessee
She bids come to me, oh come and see
You’ll feel so great here, in Burns, Tennessee.
Aunt Betty, she heard the call,
Made the first trip of all
Around Nashville Town she did come
To have some fun, at dear Lonesome
She felt so great here, she restored the old home.
Now Lonesome calls to you
And Lonesome calls to me
Come around Nashville Town to Burns, Tennessee
Come and have some fun at dear Lonesome,
You’ll feel so great here, you won’t want to go home.
You’ll feel so great here, you won’t want to go home.
(to be sung to the tune of The Sloop John B.)
- 50 -
Christmas at Lonesome
December 25, 1992
photo by John Wayne Nichols
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THE LONESOME STORY
Spring house and Triple Oak
Rocking chair on the porch by the front door
Kitchen added after the Civil War
- 52 -
THE LONESOME STORY
Lonesome decorated for the 4th of July, 1993
View looking up from Beaver Dam Creek
From left to right you can see the Triple Oak, Spring House and the porch side of Lonesome
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THE LONESOME STORY
“Lonesome Porch”
watercolor by Peggy Austin, 1984
- 54 -