SWAIN COUNTRY

Statement of Purpose

Table of Contents

HARRISON - SWAIN

JONES

A LIFETIME WITH HORSES
Benton Evening News
1979
STANTON JONES

PEDIGREES AND HISTORY OF
JONES HORSE/PONY RACING

Horses and Ponies Owned Trained and Raced by
Stanton Jones, Benton, Illinois
Source: Lawrence Melvin Jones, Stanton's son
Hand = 4"

PEDIGREES OF RACE HORSES/PONIES

I.	             

        Mare/Dam	      Stallion/Sire		Date Born		
A.	"Lighting"		________________        ________

1. 	"Thunderhead"	     "Roy T"		        1944	
	56" (14 Hands)	      64" (16 Hands)
			      Owner: Luther Sneed

2.	"Hi Ho Silver"	     "Roy T"			1945
	54" (13.5 Hands)     64" (16 Hands)
			     Owner: Luther Sneed

3.	"Red Flash"	     "Roy T"			1947
	52" (13 Hands)	     64" (16 Hands)
			     Owner: Luther Sneed

4.	"Charm Girl"	     "Hi Ho Silver"		1949
	52" (13 Hands)	     54" (13.5 Hands)
			     Owner: Stanton Jones

5.	"Red Fox"	     "Sun Down" (Gaited Pony)	1951
	48" (12 Hands)	

6.	"Red Lightning"	      "Ozzie"			1953
	52" (13 Hands)	

7.	"Jumbo"		      "Needles"			1958
			      Out of "Charm Girl"
			      Last colt of "Lightning"

B.	"Red Fox"	      "Sun Down" (Gaited Pony)	1951
	48" (12 Hands)

8.	"Fleet Fox"		"Comte de Gras		1956
	56" (14 Hands)	        72" (18 Hands)
				Owner: Coy Cochran

9.	"Princess Fox"	        Related to "Bull Lea"	1957
	56" (14 Hands)	        72" (18 Hands)
				Owner: Hal Armstrong

10.	"Blue Moon"		"John Arc"		1958
	52" (13 Hands)	        64" (16 Hands)
				Owner: Toby Smith

11.	"Cheeta Fox"	       "Needles"		1959
	48" (12 Hands)	

12.	"Miss Silky"		"Needles"		1960
	48" (12 Hands)

13.	"Star Fox"		"Needles"		1961
	46" (11.5 Hands)

14.	"Red Robin"		__________		1968 Died

15.	"Ladybird"		__________		__________

HISTORY OF JONES HORSE/PONY RACING
IN SOUTHERN ILLINOIS

ALTORFER

SILAS "S.H." HENRY ALTORFER

ALTORFER BROTHERS COMPANY

ELIZABETH SAUDER ALTORFER
May 5, 1886 - January 8, 1968

S.H. & ELIZABETH ALTORFER HOME
200 WEST MC CLURE, PEORIA, ILLINOIS
1923 - 1948

NOTABLE AND SUCCESSFUL PEOPLE FROM PEORIA, ILLINOIS WHOM I HAVE KNOWN

AVALYN'S FAMILY

BERRY - ROBERTS - HUGHES - REAMS - FLEMING

GROWING UP IN FRANKLIN, TENNESSEE

Sara Avalyn Berry Swain

Tennessee's state bird is the mockingbird. "To Kill A Mockingbird" was based upon my life. I was Scout. Daddy was Atticus. Miss Morgan was Boo. Many of the other characters in the story were my relatives, friends and people in my neighborhood. At least that is what I always thought.

My family, on both Mother's and Dad's side, were Southerners to the core. There were a lot of lawyers and doctors in our family's history. For the most part, our ancestors came from England and Germany in the 1700's, except for some Scotch-Irish, Norman, Prussian and others of similar temperament and persuasion. Dad's people came from Amhurst County, Virginia. Mother's people, of English and Welsh ancestry, came from Georgia, Alabama and Pulaski, Tennessee. They were the Adams, Clays, Lees, Tylers, McBrides, Ewings, Halfacres, Hucksteps, Flemings, Russells (in 1773 on Daniel Boone's first attempt to settle Kentucky, near Powell Valley, Virginia, 16 year old Henry Russell, an ancestor, and James Boone, Daniel's eldest son were captured by Indians and tortured to death) and of course, the Berrys and Roberts. They fought in the Revolutionary War, the War of 1812 (General William Martin served on Andrew Jackson's staff at New Orleans), the War Between the States, World War I, World War II, and other odds and ends battles and wars that Tennessee Volunteers did not want to miss out on.

Ben Franklin was our town's namesake. Franklin was founded in 1799, just three years after Tennessee became the 16th state admitted to the union. About 21 miles south of Nashville, it had around 4,500 inhabitants. Its rural character was influenced by tobacco farmers, cattlemen, horsemen, mountainmen, moonshiners and the like. Everybody knew everybody and everything that was going on.

Standing guard over the ante-bellum Williamson County Courthouse and in the center of the Public Square, was the stately statute of the lone Confederate Soldier, facing South, with his rife at rest. The Daughters of the Confederacy had commissioned the patriotic monument. In 1899 it was presented to the City with great hoopla, parades with the Stars and Bars proudly flying, speeches, exuberant singing of "Dixie" and joyous celebration, or so I was told by my grandfather.

As a border state, Tennessee saw more battles than any other state, except for Virginia, in the War Between the States, the only name used in referring to that war. It was considered blasphemous to use the term civil war.

My grandfather, a successful local land developer, in 1948, donated to the Franklin Chapter No. 14 Daughters of the Confederacy the 9 acres of a hilltop on the South edge of Franklin, known as Winstead Hill. It served as the command post for the Confederate forces at the very bloody Battle of Franklin on November 30, 1864. Prior to battle, Gen. O.F. Strahl told his troops: "Boys, this will be short but desperate." He was right and he died heroically leading his men. Six Confederate generals and 8,578 infantrymen (6,282 Confederate and 2,326 Union) were killed between 3 p.m. and 9 p.m. that tragic day. The Battle of Franklin holds many unique distinctions. Among them, the clash was one of the few night battles of the War. It also was one of the smallest battlefields - only two miles long and 1.5 miles wide. It lasted only five hours, but historians call it "the bloodiest hours of the American Civil War." It pitted Gen. John Hood for the Confederates against Maj. Gen. John Schofield for the Union.

I had relatives who rode with Nathan Bedford Forrest and were in the thick of fighting. In fact, his long-time valued Chief of Artillery, Captain S.L. Freeman, was killed on April 10, 1863 at Rural Plains (John Hughes Place) at its northwest corner at Lewisburg Pike and Old Peytonsville Road.("That Devil Forrest" (J.A. Wyeth), page 163). My cousin's (Fannie Park) great-grandfather, Dr. James Duvall Wallis, a surgeon with Forrest's Cavalry, was detailed to remain behind to care for the anticipated casualties of the upcoming Battle of Franklin. He cared for the wounded at the Carter House and other locations, and in the process met his future wife, Miss Frances (Fannie) Park, a Franklin resident. Their daughter, Gertrude Wallis married Alexander Ewing, who was my grandmother Sallie Ewing Roberts's brother.

A 21 year old ancestor, Mack Halfacre, was shot dead by a Union soldier when he was serving as a courier in Martin's High Cavalry and was halted at a roadblock near Lawrenceburg, Tennessee. I remember being told how his father was summoned to pick up the body of his son in the wagon and return it to Franklin for burial. At Dad's family homestead, "Highland Hall", a band of pillaging Yankees arrived and demanded food. A servant refused to disclose the whereabouts of stored provisions (hidden in a space behind a chimney). They shot him dead and left his body on the dogtrot. I was told that three members of the Berry family in Virginia were killed in the War. Maybe you can understand why I once made the statement that I did not really care to venture above the Mason Dixon Line.

One thing is for sure, none of our family ever backed away from a good fight or shirked their duty to their country, ever.

After World War II, Daddy returned home from the South Pacific, Luzon and the Philippines, where he had put to good use some of his woodsman's skills, keen eyesight and sharpshooter's abilities in defeating the Japanese. After cessation of hostilities, he served in the War Crimes trial as a member of the defense team for a high-ranking Japanese officer, I believe, an admiral. Despite his best efforts and valiant defense, his client was hanged.

Daddy was a lawyer. He was skilled and everyone wanted to be represented by him. He was resourceful, determined and persuasive with juries. On numerous occasions, he was able to succeed in freeing his innocent clients from the clutches of justice. One case permitted him to utilize his ballistics expertise to successfully cross-examine a so-called ballistics expert and win deserved freedom for his client.

In his youth, Daddy lived in the country (at Highland Hall on the Reams Fleming Place) and loved the wilderness. He loved hunting and fishing and camping. Every morning, he would wake up at 4 a.m. and "run his 20 or 30 traps" which he had set the day before in the hills and valleys surrounding their home. The pelts of mink, raccoon, possum and polecats (skunks) he would sell in town.

Sometimes Daddy and I would go hiking or hunting in the woods. If we came across a still, he would caution me to avoid it and to go about our business. Daddy often was hired by the moonshiners and was almost always successful in securing the dropping of charges. Daddy's reputation for being a crack shot was well-known (following WWII, for $50 he purchased 10,000 rounds of .45 caliber ammunition and about wore out his Model 1911 Colt automatic firing the entire supply of ammo). After we had moved from town to the farm, one night Daddy heard a group of hunters on our property trying in vain to shoot a squirrel high in a tree. Daddy grabbed his rifle and walked down to the group and asked what the problem was. He aimed and with a single shot killed the squirrel. Those trespassers never returned to our farm again.

I grew up on Third Avenue South in the house my Grandfather Walter A. Roberts built for his family. The house was a frame house with a small stone-like wall, between the front yard and the sidewalk. The sugar maple tree between the sidewalk and the street was the best climbing tree in town. I spent much of my waking hours perfecting my climbing skills in the upper branches of that tree and I felt that I was on par with the monkeys as far as tree-climbing skills were concerned. The exposed root system of the maple tree was used by me to construct towns and play with toy cars and the like.

There was another large sugar maple in the back yard. My Dad put up an old-fashioned rope swing with a wide solid board seat. I would swing so high on the swing that it would frighten me, but I would then push even higher. Around its base of roots, I would set up a car town and play for hours.

Since we were only about two blocks from his law office on the public square, Daddy would walk to work. When he came home for dinner (the large noon meal) and for supper (the light evening meal), I loved to run to meet him and walk back to the house with him. I used that time to tell him all the adventures I had pursued that day and ask him questions about his law cases.

My big brother, Buddy, was my hero. Whenever he was home, he always looked out for me. He would help me with my studies whenever I needed help. Buddy, with his platinum blond hair and handsome chiseled facial features, and as the football team's quarterback and captain, was liked and admired by everyone. And, he was always nice to my friends, and me, well, at least most of the time.

Mother ran the house. With the help of "Aunt Dot" (a.k.a. Clara Mae Gosey), "Sir" Thomas Steele (who Mother helped to obtain from the county his birth certificate), Robert King, Little Pat and Little Emma, and later Josie Chunn, we enjoyed the best Southern cooking imaginable. Fried chicken, fried corn, hominy grits, fresh corn, peaches, beans, apples, watermelon and tomatoes; and the best chow-chow pickle home made preserves and jelly, much wonderful Southern food, chess pies, and similar tasty morsels of food.

Mother welcomed many people into our home and to have a meal with our family. Any children of friends or relatives from Atlanta or other locales who might he attending BGA or Vanderbilt were always given an invitation for Sunday dinner. Saturday dinners were reserved for Daddy's clients, friends, other lawyers and judges for good food and good conversation.

Later on, Mother, with her master's degree in social work, worked for the county welfare department. Daddy was not totally in favor with what she did, since he did not really believe in the concept of welfare. But, Mother had a kind heart and loved helping people. She had many humorous stories to tell about her casework. When one of the recipients was not following the rules, she had to "ground" him by having his motorscooter impounded for a period of time. That got his attention fast.

Accompanying Aunt Dot anywhere was always great fun. My favorite treat was to sit in the movie balcony with her, but that was a rare treat. Generally, she ordered me to sit on the main floor. I loved to visit her home on Glass Street, the street's name always kindling my imagination. There was no grass in the front yard, but the dirt was kept clean by a periodic sweeping with a broom, at least as long as it was dry. In the back yard was an old abandoned model T Ford which was fun to "drive" and play in. Her husband, Bill Gosey, was always kind to me and very cheerful and a pleasure to be around.

It was my lot in life to be surrounded by boys, boys, boys in our neighborhood. The ratio was something like 1 to 10. They would practice their practical jokes on me and torment me at the slightest provocation. Anyway, the end result was that it toughened me up and made me able to handle about any situation. I think my Mother considered me to be a bit of a tomboy. I considered it a good challenge and always held my own with the boys. They were all older than I was, but still liked to tease me and make me the target of their practical jokes and tricks. They included my brother Buddy, my cousins Walter and Johnny Green, neighbors, John and Earl Beasley, George Trabue, friends of Buddy, Joe Eggleston, Jack Schmidt, and a host of their buddies.

One game was that the boys would make me it. I then had to come find them. They would draw arrows on the sidewalk as to which way to go. But I always won, for I would retreat into Miss Morgan's house. She was a little different and the boys were scared of her. I wasn't. Thus, I could always find refuge from them at her house. We would sit in her rocking chair in her back room in front of the fireplace. I would look out the window and watch the group of boys, knowing that they would never even try to come up on the Morgan porch since they were afraid of Miss Morgan. If she were out sweeping, she would never give my hiding place inside the house away.

Relatives of both my Mother and Father were all around us. More on my Mother's side of the family. On my Mother's side, the original Third Avenue (230) was the home of Mother, her two sisters, Susie Lee, Ewing and their mother and father, Walter and Sallie Ewing Roberts. Next door (238) was Sallie Ewing's sister, Susie Lee Ewing McGavock. Across the street (243) was Sallie's and Susie Lee's brother, Alexander Hughes Ewing and his wife Gertrude (Wallis) and their two children, son Alexander Ewing ("Uncle Bud") and daughter, Fannie Park. In the middle of the block (-----) lived Aunt Cynthia and Sam Fleming (parents to Sam M. Fleming, and Mickey Fleming Farrer and Jennie Fleming Mizell), a brother to my Dad's grandfather, William ("Buck") Clifton Fleming.
<p><p>
The next generation continued to live in their family homes. Our family lived in 230 Third Avenue South. Next door (238) lived Johnny Mac, Miss Mary, Martha, Bill and Winder (John McGavock's brother) McGavock. Across the street (243) lived my pretty cousin Fannie Park, the only home she has ever lived in during her life. I loved going to all the homes and seeing my relatives. Everyone was so warm, friendly and interested in a young visiting child. There were no secrets and if you did anything wrong, your parents knew it in lightning time. What a fun street.

On Fourth Avenue South (227) lived Uncle John ("Big John") Green, Aunt Ewing Green and their two sons and my cousins, Walter Roberts Green and Johnny Merritt Green. Their house backed up to our house. Later Aunt Ewing, Uncle John and the boys moved out to the land-grant property on Murfreesboro Road, known, I believe, as "Ewingville."

At Battle Ground Academy (where George Briggs was Headmaster) were Susie Lee (Aunt "Tu") Briggs and my other pretty cousin Sara Briggs ("Sa").

Scattered over Franklin were other cousins and relatives. It sure tended to keep a person on the straight and narrow.

I remember one summer day while playing outside and I heard a large commotion down the street. Suddenly, a runaway horse charging down 3rd Avenue South and group of men chasing it. My first thought was if I could catch the horse, it would be mine! I immediately joined the men in their chase. The men caught the horse, but there was still hope in my heart that there would be another day when I would catch my horse.

One winter day, the snow and sleet started. It turned into the storm for the Franklin record book. All electricity was lost throughout the town and county.Ê We were lucky in that being on the Dan German hospital line, we were without electricity for only 3 days, when others were without electricity for a much longer period of time. But for a child it was an exciting time. The Post Hotel was calling around town to see if any of the Franklinites could and would be willing to house stranded travelers. Mother of course said yes. A couple came to our door, and Mother fed them and they slept in my brother's room. The next morning they left early in the morning to continue on their journey and try to reach their destination.

My Dad had all sorts of camping and hunting equipment, including a good deal of cooking gear. He brought his cooking gear out of storage and happily put it to use. Mother made biscuits and cooked them on Dad's reflector oven in the fire place. Along with our supper, we had hot biscuits and jam, a real treat in a blizzard. During the day, Dad pulled me on a sled down Third Avenue.Ê I can still remember the crunch of his feet as he walked along on the ice that covered the snow. Third Avenue was like a fairyland with the trees glistening from the ice. The road was completely covered, with no cars and only a very few people out in the aftermath of the ice storm. What wonderful memories I have of growing up in Franklin.

I always wanted to learn to yodel. I would practice all the time, but never was able to learn how to do it. Yodeling takes a change in the voice. I did learn to whistle with my fingers between my teeth and would later use it successfully to hail a cab in New York City!

And tree climbing. I loved it and was good at it. In fact, I once wrote the following essay on my tree climbing experiences in my youth:

Tree Climbing

"Have you climbed a tree lately? Do you remember what your favorite past time was when you were a child? Well, one of mine was climbing trees. We were home in Franklin, Tenn. at Easter, and after church Mrs. Covington comes over to talk with me. She always reminds me of when I was young, every Sunday after church she would look out her window and there I was up in the tree. I really became an expert at climbing trees and even taught others the skill of tree climbing. Well, I decided that everyone needs rules for tree climbing.

The first rule is to find a good tree. The best trees for climbing are the maples for their branches come close to the ground for easy reaching. Even if I had to use a stool to reach the first limb, maples were still the best. Another reason that maple trees were good climbing trees was that the limbs were so spaced on the trees as to make a natural spiral staircase. The limbs on the maple were strong with no problem of breaking, yet on the end of the limb was limber so a child could use it as a lowering device. You could hold on to the limb and it would slowly move downward carrying you with it. The bark on the trees was smoother and made easier gripping. It would not hurt the palms of your hand. The maple was undoubtedly my favorite tree to climb. Oaks were too high to reach the first limb and their branches too massive for easy gripping.

Pine trees are too sticky and their branches to closely spaced together to be able to climb with ease. Crabs, cherry or other fruit trees are too small.

Second rule of climbing is having good upper body strength. I at one time was able to chin myself, which meant I could pull myself up from limb to limb fairly easily.

Third rule was being sure footed. When you place your feet on the limb, they must stay positioned till you are able to get a good handgrip. Coming up or down hanging from limbs, your feet must be placed securely on the limb and have a sure footing. Agility is important.

Fourth rule was to be fearless. This is the dividing point for most of my friends. They were willing to climb to the first level of limbs, but no farther. The purpose of tree climbing was to climb to the top of the tree at least to the part that could support you and look out. This gave you a wonderful command post and at what point you could look out over the houses and yards to distant points. There you would find a tree that you wanted to go find so you could climb it and see beyond that. Climbing trees was a wonderful adventure. It gave one such power, by being so tall and having the advantage over those little people below. From your perch high above, the world was wonderfully childlike.

I remember many stories about climbing trees. One such story was a friend of mine whose name is Polly, whose Dad was J.B. Akin, and they lived up at BGA. She and I were playing at her house one summer day. I said to her let's go climb your maple tree. This wonderful old maple tree was just outside in her front yard. In order to reach the first branch we did pull out a ladder and leaned it up against the trunk of the tree. Barely able to reach those first branches ever with the ladder, we had to hang on the first limb and then heave ourselves up into the tree. Polly made it to the first branch while I had already climbed way up into the top of the tree. I tried to coax her on up, but she was frozen to the tree. At about that time her Mother, Mrs. Akin came home, calling for us, and not finding us in the house, she came outside. I felt she would be pleased to see Polly had learned a new skill. Wrong- she was angry, that Polly was risking her life up in a tree. Mrs. Akin helped Polly down and that was the end of tree climbing for Polly.

However, I went on to more adventures up where the birds' nest and the breeze whispers. There is something so solitary and also personally challenging as climbing trees. "

What made me even think of this subject was an article in the Wall Street Journal about recreational tree climbing. There is a new independent film called "Tickle the Sky" a documentary video on tree climbing.

That there has to be an organized effort for a childhood pastime seems a little ridiculous but I suppose it is a symptom of the society we live in that everything has to be controlled by something or someone.

Tree climbing should be left to the lure of childhood, where one can climb to the heights of a tree and survey the world below and allow your imagination to carry you to the end of your world."

My childhood friends, girls and boys, in Franklin included Dee Ewin, her cousin Margaret Ewin, Mary Lindsey Polk, Beverly Overbey, Caroline Gibbs, Virginia Givens, and Polly Akin. Margaret Ann Beasley and Mary Jo Anderson. And the boys included, Tandy Rice, Bill Haralson, Bill Bethurum, and of course my boy cousins and Buddy's friends.

My dog Vandy, a cocker spaniel, was my constant companion. She was smart and always stood her ground.

When I was 12, I told my parents that I wanted a horse. My first horse was gored to death by a bull. Then, Dad, for $50, bought an ornery five-gated horse I named "Nellie." She was fast as lightning, and being five-gated could rack once started, but she retained a very independent (i.e. "mean") streak. She almost killed my twice. The first time was when we were in a creek-bed, and for some reason she spooked and leaped up the side of the creek toward a large tree and overhanging limb; so I jumped off and she ended up wedged under the branch. We had to work her free. The second close call I had with her was when I was riding at a fast pace, the saddle slide under her stomach, for she could blow up her stomach while being saddled, but fortunately with my agility and hanging onto her mane, pulled myself up on her bare back. I always said her name was a misnomer, Nellie sounds tame, but tame she was not. Anytime I wanted to ride Nellie, I had to literally run her down in the pasture and out trick her to catch her to ride. But, once in the saddle, she was a joy to ride through the fields and across the creeks of 'Rural Plains' and the surrounding country.

On some Saturdays, Dee and I would go to the farm with my Dad. While Dad was working around the farm, Dee and I would roam around. If Nellie was still out in the field with the cows, we would decide to try and trick Nellie into thinking we were sheep. We would crawl on our hands and knees bleating like sheep. Crawling along going "Baa baa", but Nellie would just look at us and move away to another grazing spot. Finally we would jump up and charge her, but to no avail, Nellie would just take off leaving us both looking at her in disgust. Then, we would turn our attention to strolling down to the creek to see what adventures awaited us. The creek was always a wonderful place to watch the minnows or see tadpoles swim. We would roll up our jeans, for we always wore our jeans, take off our shoes and wade into the cool running water. The cows were also found among the trees, seeking shade.

One day Caroline Gibbs and I had gone with Dad from town to the farm. It became later and later and no Dad. I began to think he had forgotten us and sure enough after talking to the tenant, Dad had left, forgetting that we were there. So we set off walking to town. Caroline and I had made it all the way to the stone bridge which was where the pump station sits on the Harpeth River. When my great-grandfather Fleming owned this part of Lewisburg Turnpike (a tollroad), at the stone bridge sat a house, and stretch around road, blocking it, was a long pole. At this point any one traveling, would stop and pay a toll. Dad said the man, who ran the toll stop, sat on his porch and had rigged up a device so he would not have to move off his porch, but was able to raise the bar from a sitting position after being paid. Then the horse with rider, buggy or whatever would move through after paying the toll. This bridge is now gone, but it was a beautiful stone bridge. It was at this point Caroline and I decided to rest, and who would come flying by, but Mother. Fortunately, she saw us and turned around. She could not believe Dad had forgotten us, but we thought it had been a good reason to walk to town.

I remember strolling down to the auction held Fulton Beasley's Auction House every Saturday morning. Uncle Reamie always enjoyed bidding on items and he made some wonderful finds. In those days you could find some real treasures.

Summers were spent at Willow Plunge, and occasionally down at Prim Springs in the First District. The Claiborne H. Kinnard, Jr. family owned and operated Willow Plunge, located on Lewisburg Pike. [Lt. Col. Kinnard was a W.W.II Ace (8 Messerschmidts 109s) in his P-51D ("Man O' War") and commanded the USAF's 4th Group in 1944]. The best part of Willow Plunge was Miss Kennedy's chess pies. When we saw her coming, we would all run to the snack shed, in order to be sure we got one or two.

Main Street Franklin and downtown were always busy and exciting. I would walk roller skate or ride by bicycle around town. Some nights my family would eat at Chapman's Pie Wagon on the Public Square. My Mother said he had the best steaks in town. He pan-fried his steaks, served with their own juice and a piece of toasted toast. Quite delicious. On other occasions I would stop in my Grandfather Roberts Real Estate Office (Roberts & Green Building) and ask for a nickel to go to Gray Drug Store for chocolate milk with ice cream. Or I would venture over to the Ben Franklin store to see what toy or make up there was. Downtown was a child's haven, Gray Drug store, Ben Franklin's Dime Store, my Grandfather Office or his Dry Goods building, my Dad's Office, my Cousin Johnny Green's office or stores where Mother and I knew everyone. Franklin was family and friends and everyone knew all.

One of our fun adventures was when the horse and buggy grocery delivery cart would come down 3rd Avenue. If we, children, were sitting outside my house and with nothing else to do, we would hop on the tailgate of the buggy and ride out Murfreesboro Road, turning up Eddie Lane for his first stop. The driver knew we were aboard, but only frowned and said nothing to us. We would hop off, while he unloaded, and continue the ride over to Liberty Pike, then down to Nashville Pike and back to the Franklin Square. From there we would walk up 3rd Avenue home. Those were wonderful days, when children had no fears or concerns for unsafe conditions.

In order to control the roosting pigeon population downtown, the men organized an annual "Main Street Pigeon Shoot." This would happen on a Saturday, during roosting time when the men, armed with their rifles and shotguns, would walk down Main Street and shoot any pigeon they could find which were roosting on the downtown buildings.

During my teenage years, we moved from Franklin to our farm at Rural Plains, about 5 miles to the South out Lewisburg Pike. Our home, known as Rural Plains, had been built sometime between 1806 and 1812. In the family cemetery out back, an ancestor of grandmother Ewing, Lt. Col. John Martin is buried. He was on General Andrew Jackson's staff at the Battle of New Orleans January 6, 1815. In fact when Jean Laffite visited General Jackson in Nashville after the War of 1812 and at a dinner, Laffite commented to Colonel Martin: "I understand you are not married." He said that was true, whereupon Laffite said: "Sir, you are a lucky devil."

Two old family cemeteries were located on our farm. Behind the house at Rural Plains was the Martin-Henderson family cemetery, which contained a small brick structure. On the hill of the Reams Fleming part of the farm was the Halfacre-Reams family cemetery, which included a stone wall surrounding it.

My maternal grandfather, Walter A. Roberts ("Gran Gran") deserves a lot of credit. After the War, his family was left penniless. From there he worked hard and became a successful land developer in Williamson County. He gave each of his three daughters a farm, as well as commercial property in Franklin. Buddy reminded me that while Gran Gran did not attend BGA, he made it possible for a number of boys to attend BGA by paying for their tuition. In fact, for many years, a gold pocket watch was given in his honor annually to honor the All Round top student. Why Mother and her sisters decided to not give the watch in his name, I do not know, but now it is given by the Pinkerton family. His firm was called Roberts and Green. You can still see the name in stone at the top of the building on Main Street. His partner was Curtis Green, an old and long-standing Franklin family.

My Grandfather Roberts liked real thin toast, so Pansy (Combs) or Granny would slice a piece in half with a knife. Pansy Combs was their housekeeper. She was of German decent, whose husband had died. I remember how Pansy would eat her Schredded Wheat with hot water. She would be with them in Tennessee during the summer then go with them to Vero Beach, Florida to their winter home. Mother would drive Granny and Pansy to Florida, while Gran Gran was still working in Franklin. I would go with Gran Gran on the train to Florida, since he did not like that long drive. I slept in the upper berth and he in the lower. When we would cross from car to car, I believed that the "the devil lives down there". We would then meet them in Vero Beach. After staying for a while, Mother and I would take the train back to Tennessee.

My Grandfather Walter A. Roberts volunteered for W.W.I, but was too old for the Army. He was accepted by the Red Cross and served in France. He might have been an ambulance driver, but I am not sure. He brought back a German Iron Cross as a souvenir. I remember Mother routinely wearing it around her neck on a chain.

The story of how Gran Gran got his middle name "Aiken" is most interesting. His father, Dr. Coleman Roberts, practiced medicine and lived in Pulaski, Tennessee. At the end of the War, Reconstruction having started, the South was essentially without money. Dr. Roberts had sold some land and went to the courthouse to pick up the sale proceeds. Somehow he lost the money or it was stolen. Either an article appeared in the paper or he advertised his loss. Mr. Aiken, who lived somewhere out East, and had sympathy for the South subscribed to various Southern newspapers. One of the articles told about how a Dr. Roberts had lost his money and his plea to anyone who had found it or knew of its whereabouts to notify him in Pulaski. Mr. Aiken happened to see a couple of men freely spending money in his town and he notified the authorities; Dr. Roberts got back at least some of his money, I believe.

It is also plausible to believe that Mr. Aiken might have sent his own money to Dr. Roberts. Nevertheless, Dr. Roberts was so grateful for the "return" of the money, since he was in such a bind, that he notified Mr. Aiken that his wife was expecting and if it were a boy they would honor him by naming him Aiken. That is how Gran Gran got his name, Walter Aiken Roberts. The story continues that he spent some of his summers with the Aikens out East. The Aikens were childless, and came to love Gran Gran. In fact, they wanted to adopt him. But, Gran Gran was so homesick that he did not want to stay. The story continues that Mr. Aiken was extremely wealthy man, his riches being derived from his invention of the machine that knitted the women's stocking in one continuous process.

The McGavocks lived next door to us. Johnny Mac, Winder, Miss Mary, and their daughter Martha. Winder would come over to our house at night for a game of chess with my Dad. On a summer night the adults would sit in our side yard, the Beasleys, Fanny and Faxon, Mom and Dad, the Sam Ewin and anyone else, while we children would catch lightning bugs.

I would mosey over to the McGavock house next door. Johnny Mac would decide I needed to work, so he would give me a bucket of water and a paint brush. There were long stairs from his back door to the ground. He told me to paint the steps. With paint brush in hand and my bucket of water, he told me to start at the top and work my way down. Well, of course, be the time I had reached the bottom step, the top step was dry, and I would start all over again. I quickly learned this job was never ending, but it was fun to try. Another job Johnny Mac had me do, was for ten cents, sweep his front sidewalk. That was great, since ten cents could buy you something at the dime store. I would work real hard, and he might even give me more than ten cents, since it was such a good job. Simple but fun days on 3rd Ave.

Daddy's family owned the old Berry Place that was located on Berry Circle. When I was little, Aunt Emma lived there. She was the sister of my Grandfather Tyler Berry. Grandfather Berry was not around much, since he lived and worked in Washington, D.C. He was a federal judge with the Federal Communications Commission. He would come back to Franklin for short visits. Other relatives of my Dad included his uncle, Uncle Reamy (Reams Fleming). He lived on Goose Creek Lane with his wife, Aunt Beulah. When we later moved to the country, I would walk over to their house to borrow the phone, since we did not have a telephone. In fact, I can remember how exciting the day was, when our telephone was finally installed. I called all my friends to tell them "my" new number. Uncle Doc (Dr. Clifton Fleming) lived in Paw Paw, Illinois. His medical clinic was located in neighboring, Mendota, Illinois. From what I was told, he had married a girl, left for 1st World War, and while he was over there received a "dear John letter". He never remarried. He would come home at Christmas to visit. I never knew either one of my Grandmothers (Sallie Ewing Roberts and Avalyn Elizabeth Fleming Berry) for they had died before I was born.

Franklin was filled with relatives, aunts, uncles, close cousins, distant cousins, and so forth. It was a wonderful place to grow up. Just as pictured a small Southern town with a slow place, where family and church were the two important elements. It was a close net town. Where the inhabitants' forefathers had come and settled the area, the generations had continued. It was a town of familiar people, who knew each other's father, mother, grandmother and so forth. Growing up in Franklin, was a real once in a lifetime experience. What a great adventure growing up in Franklin was and how fortunate I was to have experienced such a wonderful life.

FORREST’S RECAPTURE OF FREEMAN’S CANNONS
1st Battle of Franklin (Douglass Church)

On Friday, mid-afternoon, April 10, 1863, Brig. Gen. Nathan Bedford Forrest, with a force of his skilled cavalrymen, was in the vicinity of the Harpeth River west of Hughes Ford, when he learned that his Chief of Artillery, Capt. Samuel L. Freeman and his artillery battery had just been ambushed by the 4th US Cavalry near Douglass Church on the John Hughes Place at Rural Plains, being the northwest corner of Lewisburg Pike and Old Peytonsville Road. Gen. Forrest’s response was “Give me 5 minutes and I will be in their rear” as he wheeled his troops 180 degrees and made a mad dash of approximately 1 ½ miles ride south and, with total surprise, furiously hit and scattered the Federals, recapturing all 4 cannons, and proceeding on Lewisburg Pike to Confederate Hqs. at Spring Hill. Capt. Freeman, the sole fatality of this 1st Battle of Franklin (Douglass Church), was deeply mourned by his friend and leader, Gen. Forrest and his comrades in arms.
Berry Roberts Hughes Reams Fleming Holdings, LLC
Save the Franklin Battlefield, Inc.

BERRY

RUSSELL

SMITH

Great Falls, Montana

ABC INVESTMENT CLUB

FAMILY "LARKING" ADVENTURES
"FINISHERS" and "SUMMITTERS" and "ACHIEVEMENTS"

Timothy W. Swain & Katherine Cynthia Altorfer Swain

KIDS, BE SOMEBODY DO SOMETHING!!

SWAIN (Scots-Irish/ English/ Danish)

ALTORFER (Swiss)

BERRY (Scots/Irish/English/French/Swiss-German)

ROBERTS (English/Welsh)

Links

Most recent revison: 11 September 2001ts; 10.30.2002ts;12.20.03ts;2.22.2005ts;1Dec007ts; 14Apr08ts;27 Aug 09;20 August 2010 - 12th year in existence;

NOTE: If you would like to create your own Family Web Page, contact David Weiss (cdweiss@ameritech.net at the Peoria Public Library. My thanks to David in both helping me to set up this Web site, and in extracating me from periodic snafus while I maintain the Web site.ts

Press Here For More Swain Country

Return to Community Pages