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From the historical files of June E. Tuck, who does not validate or
dispute any historical facts in the article.
Printed in the Daily-News Telegram
John C. Garrison was born in 1860, and died in 1936, buried in the Sulphur
Springs City Cemetery, along with his wife Sarah C. - 1866 - 1941
J. C. Garrison Tells off Early Life In Texas - Jan. 28, 1931
I really want to do all the good I can the remainder of life, so this time I will write some old-time or pioneer stores for the young folks.
Will start in with our moving to Texas. My father and mother and all his father’s families were living in Southwest Missouri when I was born, Nov. 5, 1860. That was the day before Abraham Lincoln was elected (president.) I was the first grandson of both my grandfathers and they named me after both of them. This story starts before I can remember - most of this comes from what my mother told me. They were living just a little north of the Mason and Dixon line and they all sided in with the South and on account of that decision and their location they hit it hard at the beginning of the Civil War. I could tell some awful things that happened along then but will leave that off for now. Anyway, all my folks had been to Texas five or six years before, so they decided to try Texas again and by the time they were ready to move I was three years old and had a baby brother six months old, and my Aunt Sally Blann had one baby boy and two girls older. Right here I want to tell a little about my grandfather Garrison. He taught his children and grandchildren to call him "grandpap." He was just as plain, honest and hardworking as any man that ever hit Sulphur Springs, Texas. So, I am going to use the same sort of word in this story where it is necessary. All Grandpap could get to move in was a one-horse wagon, one ox wagon for three families. My father, his brother and brothers-in- law were in the Confederate army and right this time Grandpap found a man fixing to come through on horseback, and he made a trade with this man to board him and his horse to help him through on the trip. And, by the way, he was of great assistance. He was good to us and one morning as we were coming down through Arkansas, this man was riding on ahead a few miles and we heard some terrible shooting still on ahead and he turned back as fast as his horse could carry him and when he met the wagons he told us that there were danger ahead. He found a place where the wagons would get off the road and hide in the thickets. Just at this time a great band of Indians came upon the very road we had left, and that was one time, so mother said, that the children kept quiet. There were three other people in that party. Grandpap had a boy 14 years old, one negro woman with a baby about the same age of his own boy. The name of Gandpap’s boy was Elias, my uncle, and 11 years older than I. That made one old man, four women, five little children and two big boys, or 12 people and only two wagons.
Feb. 4, 1931
You remember I left our wagons hid out from the Indians. Since reading the article, I see one word left out - one two-horse wagon and one ox wagon, two large, long-legged grey horses that out-traveled the oxen. Well as we thought the Indians were gone and we were safe to get out, we went on down the road and sure enough those Indians had killed the people and burned their home. Then we realized what a narrow escape we had. The grown people in the company must have talked around the camp fire considerable about moving to Texas. My mother, her two little boys and Uncle Elias had charge of the ox wagon and of course they could not keep up with the big long-legged horses, so they plan every day was for the ox wagon to leave camp first and then the horse wagon would pass and have the next camp picked out and all ready when we got there. We had two drivers for each wagon - mother and Uncle Elias would take turns driving the ox wagon and Grandpap and the negro boy the horse wagon. The horses being so much faster, it gave Grandpap plenty of time to rustle feed and food, so the ox wagon did not have to lose any time. Yet, when we had to cross a river or any dangerous place on the road Grandpap always waited for us; he would not take any chances. Once we were fording a river the oxen turned down stream and soon got into deep water. Uncle Elias jumped into the water, neck deep, and stopped the oxen but they had gotten into soft mud and could not pull out, so Grandpap drove on out and then waded in with his team and hitched on to the end of the tongue and pulled us out.
Mother told me that some of us walked most of the time. I was only three years old., but that I walked a lot and could keep up with the oxen. We found many places where other people had camped. Sometimes they would leave something . I would look around every old camping place for things left, and if I found a piece of plank or board I would drag it up to the wagon and tell them that I was going to take it to Texas to build me a house, and at one camp I found a good chair and came dragging it out to the wagon. Mother made room for it and we brought it on and made good use of it, taking special care of it, and when I was married and went to housekeeping mother turned that old chair over to me and I used it for ten years or more.
Now here is an incident I remember. It was crossing a river on a ferry boat - a great wide floor of a thing with a rope stretched across about three feet above the water, and I guess the reason I remember it is that the man in charge picked me up for the first thing to be loaded on and set me down out on the far side of that wide floor over that wide span of water in the river, and I didn’t like to be left away out there by myself, but didn’t cry, just sat there and gritted my teeth, and when they pulled the boat across by that rope I was the first they unloaded. Some man carried me away out and sat me down again by myself. I was scared again and I guess that is why I remember it. It was a good long trip from Southwest Missouri to Sulphur Springs, Texas, but we made it through without any serious accidents. Our first camping place at Sulphur Springs was at the old Mooney well in the east part of town. I suppose this is enough for this time, but will come again soon.
Feb. 20, 1931
I was so busy last week I couldn’t get to my story, but will now take it on a little. Now, before we leave the Mooney well camp in Sulphur Springs, I will go back on our trip and mention one more happening that slipped my mind and, by the way, four or five years ago about one year before mother died, she rehearsed a bit of those happenings on our move to Texas. One of them was my little brother, then six months old, fell out of the wagon and as he hit the ground he kind of bounced and rolled over just enough to miss the wheel of that big, heavy ox wagon and ever since then mother has always claimed that he was spared for some good purpose, and sure enough, in all of his active manhood he fulfilled all and more, too, mother claims. He was educated for the ministry right here in Sulphur Springs, in old Eastman College, and then put in more than 40 years in the ministry here in Texas and in Kansas. He has now worn his life out and broken down and is now living in California, close to his son.
I will go on with our pioneer story. When Grandpap got us to Texas he still had plenty of money and it was in twenty dollar gold pieces, though it is a wonder those Indians hadn’t gotten it. If the Indians had have known how close they were to that pile of gold, they certainly would have gotten it. We stayed in the Mooney camp for about three weeks, while Grandpap was looking around prospecting, and he bought what was known then as the Farrar farm, just east of the now city limits of Sulphur Springs, consisting of 150 acres. Lester Waits now owns a good part of the old home. I am pressed for time to write this. In my next letter I will bring in mother’s milch cow trade. Well, it is great that we can live our pioneer life over in our memory, but I don’t care to go through the actual experience any more. I prefer to keep looking ahead. And now to the young life of our country, especially the 4-H boys and girls: you have just as great an opportunity as us older ones had fifty to seventy-five years ago - that is, to start in now and rebuild the old worn-out lands and the dilapidated houses and barns, making lasting permanent improvements in every way. I would like to meet with you in your club meetings. With best wishes, I will close for a time. J. C. Garrison
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