Edited by
Wally Howerton
Contributing Editors
John F. Howerton
Bryan R. Howerton
Volume Ten, Issue 1 Winter 2006
FROM THE EDITOR
Greeting Cousins:
Has it been 10 years already? In preparation for this edition I was looking back through my files of Past Howerton Heritage Newsletters and sure enough the first published edition was posted on the internet in the Winter of 1996. This was before I came on the scene as the issue was written and edited by John F. Howerton and Bryan R. Howerton who continue to write articles for our newsletter. Where would we be without them?
Heard of any reunions lately? Jay & Roetta Howerton, who co-host the annual Claiborne County, TN "Howerton Family Reunion" have some interesting pictures from last summer's gathering. Pictures usually come in from different sources so make sure you visit the reunion website every now and then for updates.
I've also been notified by Hunter Howerton that in July there will be a Howerton Reunion at Appomattox, VA. Hunter says the event is held every two years. According to Hunter, "This is the branch of the family where every eldest son is named 'Hunter', regardless of last name. Makes it easy to call us all to supper at the same time, but rough on those who end up behind us in line for the chicken." Since it is a regular event I will create a web page and host it at: Appomattox, VA Howerton Family Reunion. Anyone interested may contact:
Edith
Harris
Route #4, Box 239
Appomattox, Va. 24522
See you in the summer!
Wally
60th Wedding Anniversary - Jean and Bryan Howerton
Claiborne County, TN "Howerton Family Reunion"
Appomattox, VA "Howerton Family Reunion"
“LOUISIANA"
HERITAGE HOWERTON
By Bryan R Howerton
There have been a great many Howertons named Heritage, even to the present day; some often known as “Tage.” (The first Heritage Howerton was born about 1734 in Essex County, VA.) To avoid confusion the primary individual in this article is called “Louisiana” Heritage. Heritage Howerton was born about 1778 in Essex County, VA; the son of Charles Howerton and Catherine Montague. He was well educated and left Essex County, VA in 1799 or 1800 and traveled to Nashville, TN.
After spending some time in Nashville he decided to go to Natchez, MS following the old pathway or road that was then known as “The Nashville Road” and is presently called the “Natchez Trace”. The journey on the trace was extremely dangerous at that time. Travelers were frequently attacked by Indians, but the greatest danger was the large number of outlaws and desperadoes who accosted, robbed and often murdered travelers. No record has been found relating to Heritage’s experiences on the trip from Nashville, but it must have been interesting.
He established himself in business in Natchez and served as Quartermaster Sergeant in the 1st (Claiborne’s) Regiment, Mississippi Territorial Militia until at least 1807. During this period he spent some time in Louisiana Territory as the Mississippi Territorial Militia was dispatched to New Orleans in December 1803, easing the transition of the Louisiana Territory to the United States and on 4 Oct 1806 he was dispatched to Natchitoches with a detachment of mounted infantry of the 1st (Claiborne’s) Regiment, Mississippi Territorial Militia.
Not long after Louisiana became an American possession, Heritage recognized the opportunities in a new territory and moved to Louisiana. He became one of the first Justices under the American Flag in Rapides Parish, LA and he was an early settler of the western part of that parish near the Calcasieu River. He was also engaged in business in that area and he settled on the hill above the separation of Lake Cotile; the left fork making up Bayou Cotile and the right fork being Bayou Rapides – the public road from Alexandria crossed Howerton Ford near Bayou Cotile. The hill on which Heritage settled was originally called “Howerton Hill” however, the name has since been changed to Hot Wells, LA, site of Hot Wells Health Resort. A descendant of Heritage who lived in Elmer, LA had in her possession an old trunk and a trundle bed used by the children of Heritage.
The location of Heritage’s marriage has not been found, nor has the name of his wife been found. Descendants say his first wife died before 1820. Only two children have been identified from that marriage, i.e., Lewis Montague b about 1816 and Elizabeth b about 1818. Heritage moved up the Red River before 1820 and settled at Monette’s Ferry in Rapides Parish, LA. At about that time he was married to Charlotte (surname, date and place of marriage unknown). Charlotte died before 1839 in Louisiana.
Following the death of his second wife, Heritage and his son Lewis Montague Howerton went to Texas sometime between 1830 and 1840. The exact purpose of that move is unknown; some claim they wanted to see Texas liberated from Mexico and decided to help. It is a matter of record that they both remained in Texas for a few years and possibly participated in the Battle of San Jacinto. Records confirm that both Heritage and his son Lewis were each awarded land grants of 640 acres from the Republic of Texas. Lewis married Dulcina E Gorbet in Brazoria County, TX on 24 Jan 1843 and he died in Brazoria County, TX about 1846.
Heritage returned to Louisiana around 1840 and established a mercantile business in Shreveport, LA. On 29 Jan 1851 he entered into an equal partnership for a term of three years with John P Hailey in Shreveport. According to descendants, Heritage was a very successful businessman and owned a plantation in Caddo Parish, outside Shreveport at the time of his death in Shreveport in 1851. At the time of his death, he was survived by one child Henry Heritage Howerton. A copy of the last will of Heritage is shown below:
I give and bequeath to my daughter-in-law, Eliza Carnahan, wife of my son Heritage Howerton, Jr., all of my property, movable and immovable, rights and credits of which I die seized and possessed, including my entire interest in the commercial partnership existing between myself and John P Hailey. Entered into on the 29th of January 1851, for the space of 3 years, and conducted and carried on in said town of Shreveport under the name of Hailey and Howerton. I desire that said partnership be continued during the time thereof unless sooner dissolved by consent of either party. I give and bequeath unto my daughter-in-law, Eliza Howerton, my whole estate. And finally, I nominate and appoint my son, Heritage Howerton, Jr., the executor of this my last will and testament.
Witnessed:
John P Hailey /s/ Heritage Howerton
Ephram Anderson
Chas E I White
GOOD???
OLD DAYS – 03
By Bryan R Howerton
My mother died in 1933, leaving five small children of which I was the oldest. My father made a valiant effort to keep the children together while working to support his family. That was a difficult task, especially so due to the young age of the children. We lived with my paternal grandparents for a few months following the loss of my mother, following which we moved into a rented house and hired a housekeeper. Our home life became more normal, but no housekeeper remained for long; usually just a few weeks. Most of them were elderly women who would be termed “homeless” in current society.
My father’s siblings often requested they be allowed to take and raise the children; however, he did not want the children separated. Finally, about 1937 he agreed that we could temporarily split up with my brother going to live with our uncle; the girls and I going to live with two great-uncles. All lived in the Ozark Mountains within a radius of about seven to ten miles from each other.
The trip was made in one day from the lowland delta region west of the Mississippi River, where we had lived since the death of our mother. The roads were unpaved and poorly maintained, but excitement grew as we reached the foothills covered with trees. It was a great contrast between the low, swampy area with stagnant or slow flowing sloughs and streams to which I was accustomed. Sometime after dark when less than ten miles from the home of the great-uncle with whom I was to live, we lost one of the rear wheels from our sedan. We were going downhill and felt the left rear end of the car drop to the road and heard rocks and gravel striking underneath the sliding car. I saw the wheel pass the car and roll down the hill at high speed as it vanished beyond the headlight’s glow. My father and I searched the road, ditches and on out into the woods on each side of the road in a vain effort to find the runaway wheel. After a long time, we jacked up the rear end of the car and discovered the lug nuts missing from the wheel hub; apparently the rough road vibration had gradually loosened the nuts until the wheel came off. We fastened the spare wheel and tire in place and continued on to the home of the great-uncle with whom I was to live.
The next morning, my great-uncle, his sons who were still living at home, my father and I all went back to the point where we had lost the wheel. After about an hour’s search the wheel was found in a hole from which the stump of a large tree had rotted away.
I was fascinated with the wooded country, hills and streams of clear cold water running between the hills. Most of the homes I visited were built of logs and were quite comfortable. I am eternally grateful to the family of my great-uncle who so graciously accepted me into their home and treated me no differently than their own children. My great-uncle’s log-home was large and had been built before the Civil War on a low hill above a creek. Electricity was not available at that time as rural electrical service did not reach that area until about twenty years later. Light was provided by kerosene lamps and wood was used for heating and in the kitchen range for cooking. The boys were responsible for ascertaining water was always available in sufficient quantity for home use.
Just about everything encountered was new and different to me. My indoctrination began when a cousin took me to their spring to fill the buckets with water for the house. The spring was located in a small stone cavity from which a cold stream of water flowed through a crevice and on down to the creek. A wooden door provided access to the small cave within which the spring was located. Inside was pool of cold water about six feet across and three feet deep fed by the spring and drained by that crevice. There was a sizeable, fairly level ledge on each side of the pool, on which milk, butter, eggs and other items were kept, (which would be stored in refrigerators today). A dipper was hung above the spring and my cousin opened a jug of milk and poured some in the dipper and offered it to me. The milk was fresh and so cold that it hurt my teeth. The milk was stored at the spring awaiting use or cream separation, along with the separated cream in large metal containers. Periodically a dairy truck came by and bought the cream. Butter was obtained by churning whole milk. This task was normally performed by the girls; however, the girls were outnumbered by boys in that household, so I assisted in the churning until I became proficient, after which all the boys took turns at making butter. Division of labor was made at most of the inside tasks normally performed by girls; except I do not recall having a turn at washing dishes.
The family must have functioned much like numerous generations before them. Even the house site had been carefully selected on top of a hill for the best circulation of air and near a constant potable water source. All contributed to the family effort. Meals were plentiful and very well prepared by my great-aunt. A large garden, primarily tended by the womenfolk, provided vegetables for daily use in season and were preserved for winter use. The men and boys tended the livestock and engaged in farming. Probably due to the poor quality of the land, the farming was generally limited to foodstuff, consisting mainly of peas, beans, pumpkins, corn for both livestock and family use, and sorghum from which molasses was made. My experience with the family was during the depth of the Great Depression, but the family did not appear to have any basic need for which they were unable to provide. Most food items were raised on the farm, although I recall that salt, pepper, sugar and flour were bought from a general store about five miles away – there were undoubtedly other food items requiring purchase, but I do not remember what they were. Meat was provided by chickens, geese, hogs and beef animals and by hunting; honey was obtained by robbing bee-trees found in the woods during which bees were captured, if possible, and moved to hives near the home. Several productive hives had been obtained in that manner. It seemed to me that just about everything needed was harvested. Even medicine for most common physical ailments was obtained from various roots, bark, seed, etc., either from the wild or home-grown.
I recall one item that was the same whether you lived in the delta or in the mountains – that was a body conditioning exercise conducted each Spring. The purpose was to get young bodies into shape after the limited physical activity of winter. The program was in two parts; one was directed toward the cleansing of your blood and the other was intended to tune-up the digestive system. The blood part was undertaken first. A few roots of the Sassafras tree had been dug up and cut off after the tree became dormant in the previous winter. These roots were cut into small lengths and stored in a dry location where they would completely dehydrate. In the Spring the dry Sassafras roots were cleaned and placed in a pot of water and boiled until the remaining water was a brown color and called “sassafras tea”. Each person drank at least an amount predetermined to be adequate for his size. I don’t recall that the taste was particularly unpleasant; however, I do not recall asking for seconds. Perhaps it did help your blood; at least, I doubt it did any harm. The other Spring treatment was diabolical to say the least. It was an accepted fact that your digestive system required a tune-up at that time of year and three different “medicines” used in our area included castor oil, mineral oil or the dreaded Black Draught. The Black Draught, as I recall, was purchased in a small paper box and consisted solely of thousands of dry, tiny black seeds from an unknown plant. It was the preferred “medicine” that my family and relatives used for the annual spring cleaning. There was no pleasant way to administer the dosage, which ranged from dumping a heaping spoon load on the back of your tongue followed by the rapid swallowing of water or mixing the dose with honey or molasses, which was swallowed with water and other variations. I don’t know how effective it was in improving your digestive system; however, it certainly removed anything not permanently attached inside the bowels. The resulting action was extremely uncomfortable, swift and repetitive, requiring accurate timing for a mad dash for the outhouse. It was best to remain near the outhouse, the need was frequent and you dared not sneeze, cough, or even take a deep breath which often resulted in an unpleasant surprise. It was not acceptable to scare or surprise anyone for the first couple of days following the treatment.
Each member of the family contributed to the smooth operation of the household and farm. Everything was new to me, but the family eased the transition in which I passed from an outsider to a family member. I was assigned minimal chores at first and gradually assigned tasks requiring additional skills. I thoroughly enjoyed the life and never felt that more was expected of me than the other children near my age; quite the opposite, I felt I could do more than I was allowed to do. We worked most of the day when not in school, except on Sundays. On Sunday, the whole family usually walked to a country church somewhat less than a mile distant. The only deviation permitted was the route to the church; the parents and the girls walked along the roads and the boys cut straight through the woods. Church was regularly attended and during inclement weather we all rode in a horse-drawn wagon.
Each church annually held week-long revival meetings during the warmer months of the year. The revivals satisfied a social need as well recruiting new church members. Each church, regardless of denomination, scheduled their revival so as not to conflict with the schedule of the other churches in the area. That method enabled all within walking or driving distance to attend revivals in neighboring churches and kept the people, who were all somewhat isolated, in touch with each other. After Sunday service following a week of revival meetings, the congregation would gather at a deep hole on a nearby creek or river and those converted the previous week would be baptized, followed by a very large picnic-type meal after which the younger folks would engage in ball games and various other sporting activities and the older people would catch up on happenings and gossip within the area.
Families generally provided their own entertainment with various board games, dominoes, checkers, etc. In addition, some tasks were performed in front of the fireplace after the evening meal. Such as selecting ears of dry corn from storage in the barn that were suitable for grinding into cornmeal for family use. I recall when a large quantity of corn was carried into the living room, along with three large metal wash tubs. First, the outer covering had to be removed or “shucked” from each ear. After shucking, each kernel of corn was removed or “shelled” from the cobs and placed in one of the wash tubs. The parents wisely made the chore a game, by declaring that the team that filled their tub first would be declared the winner. I noticed that the girls and some of the boys wore gloves for the task, but I along with the older boys, used my bare hands which resulted in blisters, some broken, and many scratches on my fingers and hands.
I was very much surprised the next day, when at breakfast my great-uncle asked if I remembered how to get to the grist mill. The mill was located on a creek about five miles away requiring frequent changes of roads or trails through the woods. I said that I could find it and he stated that I would take the corn to the grist mill and get it ground into meal. I knew he did not expect me to carry the corn to the mill; but, was shocked when he said I would hitch two mules he named to a wagon and make the trip alone. I had only recently learned how to handle a team of mules or horses and drive a wagon. I was almost overwhelmed on one hand by the pride I felt that my uncle had that much confidence in me and on the other hand by the responsibility delegated to me. He explained the procedure; measuring the corn when I arrived at the grist mill and measuring the shares of the meal ground from the corn – the grinding was paid for by a percentage of the meal that was produced from the corn. I noticed that the selected mule team was composed of the two oldest mules at the barn and undoubtedly the least likely to cause a problem for me – however, my uncle did not say that, just remarked that I should not let them run. I made the trip without a problem, eating a lunch my aunt had prepared on the way. Upon the return I was the happiest boy on the hill for several days, particularly after the miller had expressed surprise that my uncle would let me make the trip alone. I visited the mill fairly often and was surprised several months later when my father informed me that the miller wanted to formally adopt me, promising that I would only work in the mill when not in school and that he would send me to college upon graduation from high school. I do not think my father would have agreed to the miller’s offer, but when my father asked how I felt about it, I replied that I would rather continue with my great-uncle. One major factor I considered was the constant noise and vibration within the stone-grinding mill with so much grain dust constantly in the air that I wore a bandanna over my nose and mouth on each visit.
School friends often spent the weekend in the home of one or the other. On the first weekend that I visited in the home of my best friend we were joined by another classmate. My friend’s home was located on a hill, crowning a bluff which stood above the river. The home was made of logs and consisted of a long open passageway from the front to the back of the house, with two rooms on one side and two or three on the other. My friend and his brother shared a bedroom on one side adjoining a general storage room.
Following breakfast the next morning, we began helping with the daily chores; in this case, hunting for eggs. There was no chicken-house as the hens laid their eggs at various locations in the woods near the barn. The hens apparently hid their eggs as well as they could in effort to accumulate enough to hatch chicks, so I found a thorough search was necessary to gather the eggs.
After we gathered eggs in the woods, my friend suggested we search in the barn as he said the hens sometimes laid eggs in various locations around the barn. I did not find any inside the barn and was wandering outside when we passed a place where there was a hole beneath bottom log of the barn. The log was worn smooth and shiny indicating something was using the location for entry and exit. They told me there might be a hen’s nest under the barn, so I knelt down to look. I stuck my head under the log and saw something white sitting upon what appeared to be a nest, but was not sure due to the lack of light. While in that position I heard a sharp whistle followed by an immediate hard punch to my posterior which forced my head and shoulders in under the barn. Suddenly, I heard a hissing noise and the white creature grabbed my hair and pulled violently, extracting a few hairs as I rapidly backed up. As I was backing up I again heard that sharp whistle and was again struck in the rear, forcing my head back into the space under the barn and again the hissing creature pulled more hair. This routine was repeated until I was finally able to back off and free myself. As I stood up I saw a goat with huge horns, who had been trained by my friend and his brother to butt anyone bent over when it heard a sharp whistle. The goat had been butting me in under the log and I was losing hair to a goose that had a nest near the entry hole.
Later, it was suggested that we go out to the bluff above the river. I was still talking about the goat when we were on top of the bluff looking down to the river about 20 or 30 feet below. One of the brothers suggested showing me something interesting. The top of the bluff was nearly level and there was a small rock ledge about two or three feet from the top of the bluff on the river side. Three of us were directed to climb down onto the ledge and knell; then the other boy whistled and we peered over the top of the bluff to see him bent over at the bluff edge, watching the goat from between his legs; the goat gaining speed and moving directly toward the kneeling boy. Someone said “Duck”, which we did and were joined by the boy on the bluff who jumped on the ledge just before the goat sailed out over the river and going completely under the river surface. The goat soon surfaced and began swimming downstream to where the bluff ended and it could get out of the river. The goat had obviously done that before. The goat was either not very smart or must have enjoyed the exercise as much as us boys, as it returned to the top of the bluff and stood there waiting for someone to whistle. Each of us took turns bending over and whistling and waiting until the last second to jump to the lower ledge. Naturally young boys make a lot of noise under such circumstances.
Suddenly,
we heard this loud voice and saw my friend’s father
approaching us. It was obvious from his posture and gait that he
was very unhappy with us. After a lengthy lecture about respect
and compassion for dumb animals, especially those that were
personal pets, he ordered us to go up the river and hunt rabbits
or squirrels or fish – anything to get out of his sight.
We went on up the river for a few minutes, but had taken no guns
or fishing tackle. So, we climbed a few trees, investigated a
cave in another bluff and finally turned back down the river,
intending to go to the house for lunch. As we moved closer
to the house, we thought we heard someone whistle. Walked on and
heard a whistle followed by a splashing noise. We slowly moved to
the edge of the bluff top and saw the father bend over at the
edge above the ledge, look back between his legs, and whistle. A
very wet goat came tearing toward the old man and we began to
yell and laugh which distracted him, but not the goat. Just as
the old man was almost coming erect, the goat arrived, struck him
and the old man went off the ledge and down into the river. The
goat just stood there, looking down toward the man in the river.
We helped my friend’s father out of the water and back to
the house. He stayed in bed for the next several days.
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