Run Over By a Ford

Run Over by a Ford

by

T. Clifford Morgan

Warsaw, MO

26 Dec 1996

This is Dec. 26, 1996, and I'm trying to remember stories that are based on what I remember myself and what I remember of what my parents and different people have told me.

The first story is one that I don't like to recall in most ways. It is the time that I was run over by a Model T Ford. I doubt that many people got run over by a Model T, because it made a lot of noise, and it rattled a lot especially on a rough road, you could hear it coming from a long way off.

Previous to Model T days, the road that is now highway 54 was a mud road. When the cars came, the cars could not get through the mud holes on the road, so that they were forced to haul rock to the road. This made a bumpy road, but at least after the cars came, the road became passable.

When I was a child we lived across the road from Grandpa and Grandma Morgan. The mail address was Route 1 Box 23B. We got our mail from the same mailbox as Grandpa's. This mailbox was on our side of the road across the road from Grandpa's, but in 1924, when Grandpa's health failed, we moved to his place.

In the summer of 1925, I was six years old, and like all the boys that I knew of at that time, I went barefoot in the summer. I never remember walking anywhere. I always ran. At that time, the mail was carried by an old time mail carrier, Sam Edde. Sam had started carrying the mail on mud roads on horse back. Later with some improvement on the road, he carried the mail in a buggy. In 1917, he bought his first car, but he continued to keep his horses and buggy for times when the road was too muddy for the car.

Mama had a habit of watching for the mail. When the mail came she would tell me, and I would run out to get it. The one day of the week that we were sure to get mail was Thursday because that was the day when the Index, the county paper, came. She would see the mail carrier coming up the road from the east, and she would holler, "Clifford, here comes the mail." I would run across the road and stand by the mail box until the mail carrier arrived.

It's hard to understand now, with all the traffic on Highway 54, that at that time there were few cars that went by. A good illustration of this fact is that my parents took the first photograph of me as a baby after laying me down on a blanket in the middle of the road. Now you wouldn't dare do something like that.

When Sam drove up, from the east, he would give me the paper, and I would run around the car and back to the house. This particular day, I was unaware that there was a Model T approaching from the west. Sam Edde's car was making a lot of noise, and from where I was standing at the mail box, I couldn't see or hear the other car. Holding the paper with one hand, and going at full speed, I ran directly into the path of the car. I was knocked unconscious, and never was able to remember seeing the Model T.

The first that I remember, I was being held in the arms of a strange man, and I looked around and there was a second man that I had never seen before. The man that was holding me said that he would be glad to take me to the doctor. That scared me, and I started crying. Just about that time, Papa ran up as fast as he could run, and took me in his arms. The talk about going to the doctor had scared me, and Papa decided that I wasn't hurt bad enough to go to the doctor. I did have a few bruises and scratches, but that was all.

When Papa first arrived, he asked, "Did you run over my boy?" The men explained that the boy had run out in front of the car, and that there hadn't been time for them to stop. One man told Papa that they lived at Linn Creek. Linn Creek was the town in Camden County that was covered by the Lake of the Ozarks many years later. Now Linn Creek is at a new location but has the same name. The men went on their way, and as far as I know, Papa never did get their names. After they had left, I saw the newspaper that I had been carrying. One end of it was sort of pulverized from being under a wheel of the car as it came to a stop. I guess I was lucky to be all right. I didn't even have a headache.

My parents were pretty shook up by the accident, and they just wanted to forget it. They didn't tell anyone about it as far as I know. I doubt that some of the neighbors even knew that I'd been run over. This put a stop to me running to the mail box to get ahead of the mail carrier, and I got a lecture on stopping at the road and looking both ways.

Many years later, in 1945, I was returning from a carrier aircraft service unit in the Pacific. After landing in San Francisco, I rode the Santa Fe railroad to Kansas City. When I got to the Union Station, I went to pick up my luggage, but it hadn't arrived. I had my ditty bag with me, and it contained all of the toilet articles like shaving gear and a toothbrush. The sea bag which was missing was packed tightly with a hundred pounds of clothes. I had plenty of clothes at home, and I knew I could pick up the bag when I came back a month later, but I was afraid I would be charged a fee for storage. The baggage man said that he understood my situation because he had a son in the service. He wrote down my name, and said that he would kill the charge when it came in.

I walked out of the Union Station, and at that time, there was no problem for a service man in uniform to hitch a ride. My parents lived between Preston and Hermitage on the Ralph Nevins farm (Ralph's daughter, Kathleen, still owns the farm). I got several rides, and my last ride ended up in Warsaw. I started walking again, and before I got to the bridge over the Osage, a car stopped with an elderly couple in the car, and it was Sam Edde and his wife. Sam was retired then, but when I told him my name, he remembered me. He took me to Preston. I mentioned that I could walk the rest of the way, but he wouldn't let me walk. He took me all the way home. This was the last time that I ever saw Sam Edde, the old mail carrier. I was tempted to ask Sam whether he had ever known about my accident, but I never did.

Many years have passed, but I still remind myself to look both ways before I walk out on the road.
(Typed for the Henthorn/Bolerjack project by Diane (Black) Wilson.)

-0-

Email Dick Henthorn: Rhenthorn1@aol.com
Posted: 23 Sep 2009
File: MorRun.txt

Grandpa and the Oyster Can

Grandpa and the Oyster Can

by

T. Clifford Morgan

Warsaw, MO

27 May 1993

This story concerns an 1890 wagon trip from east of Preston, MO to Collins, MO. The purpose of the trip was to take John Hire to see his parents, Jimmy and India Hire, and his younger sister, Ollie [Olivia, REH]. John had never seen his sister. Young John, as a baby, needed extra care, so from infancy he was raised by his grandparents, Achilles and Samantha (Bullard) Morgan. He was related to Samantha through her first marriage to Joseph Wilson Hires.

The grandparents had never been to Collins, but they knew that it was west along what now is Highway 54. John was excited about going on such a long trip. He was only about 4 years old. The day before, Grandpa Achilles put the hoops on the wagon and spread the canvas cover over them. Before good daylight they were up, packed the wagon with feed for the horses and for the people, and also put in camping gear. About sunup they started out.

Covered wagon travel by that year did not mean watching for Indians but it did mean worrying for fear the metal rim would work off one of the wooden wheels. It that happened you took the wheel to a creek to soak in the water so it would swell enough to keep the rim on.

Grandpa Achilles was crippled so he really dreaded having to repair a wheel. Just driving was hard for him sitting on the hard wooden wagon seat for hours and hours. At noon they stopped to eat lunch. They fed and watered the horses and let them graze a bit. Even though John was excited about seeing his parents and his younger sister he probably got tired and cranky on the long trip. Perhaps he napped in the afternoon as the horses steadily went westward.

Late in the day, after going mile after mile across the prairie land they came to Little Weaubleau Creek. They decided to camp rather than risk being caught away from water at sundown. The wagon pulled off the road. The horses were unhitched, watered, and fed. A fire was kindled so Grandma Samantha could warm the food and make coffee for Grandpa Achilles. Grandpa liked coffee with nearly every meal. They bedded down in the wagon bed.

Before daylight they ate breakfast and hitched up the horses. Slowly the wagon was pulled up the hill out of the creek bottom. It crested the hill and there just ahead was Collins! They could have made it there before sundown the day before. Everyone laughed a good deal about that.

The 28 1/2 mill trip from just east of Preston to Collins, that today takes such a short time, took all of one day. The long trip was worth it though. They all were so delighted to see each other. Jimmy Hire took his son by the hand and took him the few blocks from his house to downtown Collins. He was proud of his son and wanted to buy something special for dinner to celebrate the visit. He bought a can of oysters to make soup with. That was a really special treat. (Note: Oyster cans in 1890 were much larger than an oyster can in 1993).

India took special care opening up that oyster can. She wanted the edge smooth and not too sharp. She washed it very clean and then gave it to her son, John. John turned it in his hand noticing the shine. He dropped it and it rolled making an interesting sound on the wooden floor. He took it outside and rolled it on the grass. It didn't sound the same. On rocks it made a different sound. If he threw it down hard it's sound was loud and sharp. A spoon against it's side made another sound. What a fascinating toy for the young boy. It may have been his first real toy.

The next morning they took a long time to say "Good Bye." It was hard to leave and tears were shed. They started well after daylight, a very late start.

They stopped for lunch again. Then the horses plodded on. It got dark before they reached Preston. Achilles kept driving wanting to get home that night. Soon all but Achilles were asleep. John bedded down behind the wagon seat clutching his toy oyster can tightly. As the wagon started down a long hill a wagon wheel rim fell off with a great clatter. John woke with a start. He screamed, "Grandpa, Grandpa, my oyster can has fallen out. I can hear it on the rocks." Grandpa answered, "I sure wish it was your oyster can."

In later years, Thomas W. Morgan told this story often when he visited Jimmy Hire and this was always the end of the story. Thomas Clifford Morgan believes they probably got home that night. They always carried a lantern and enough water to soak the wheel so the rim would be on tight again.

******

Email: Dick.Henthorn@gmail.com
Posted: 23 Sep 2009
File: MorOys.txt

Mahala Morgan's Petticoat and the Civil War

Mahala Morgan's Petticoat

and the

Civil War

by

T. Clifford Morgan

Warsaw, MO

10 July 1994

This Civil War story was told to T. Clifford Morgan by Elias Padget, who had heard it countless times as told by his mother, Saraphine Morgan Padget. T. Clifford Morgan had also heard it told by his father, Thomas Wilson Morgan.

The passage of time has caused the exact date of the encounter to be lost, but T. Clifford Morgan believes it to be in the year 1861. In that year, Mahala Morgan's son, Henderson was 3 years old and her daughter, Rosetta, was 1 year old. Mahala's husband, Sylvester Morgan was the first child of Thomas Scott Morgan and Brooky Kyger Morgan.

One of the greatest worries of a young wife during the Civil Way was that her husband would be killed and she would be left a widow with young children.

Any movement of men across Hickory County Missouri was suspected to be armed rebels unless proved otherwise. On this particular day a man galloped up to Morgan's to warn Thomas Scott Morgan that a large group of men were approaching from Dallas County. They seemed to be headed for the Morgan farm, which was about 3 miles east of Black Oak Point (Later called Preston).

Tom Morgan dispatched his sons to alert the neighbors and ask them to tell others. In a short time, a large company of men assembled at Morgan's. They were deployed south of the farm buildings along a wagon road behind fences and trees. With guns drawn they awaited the intruders. It was the Civil War custom to challenge any group of unknown men. Each side would send out a man. Thus they would determine if they were friend or foe.

Mahala watched but did not see a meeting of men between the two forces. She scouted around the Union line for a look at the opposing force, which had dismounted to form a rough line between trees. She recognized a Union man in the opposing group. Wasting no time she hid behind a large tree. Quickly, she took off her dress and her white petticoat. Then she put her dress back on.

Waving her white petticoat above her head, she ran screaming as loud as she could, right between the opposing battle lines. Tom Morgan, as the leader of the home group, strode out to meet the leader of the strange group. This man turned out to be E.M. Padget of Dallas County, a good friend of Morgan's and grandfather of Elias Padget, who years later told T. Clifford Morgan this story.

Sometimes these chance encounters turned into a bloody battle. All it took was one man with an itchy trigger finger and the battle would begin. By World War II getting killed in this type of encounter was termed, "killed by friendly fire."

Sylvester and Mahala Morgan moved their young family to Vermilion County, Illinois in the summer of 1862. He enlisted in the 125th Illinois Volunteer Infantry on August 10, 1862. He survived the war and they had eight children. Mahala Morgan lived until 1924, and she probably never forgot the day, when as a young woman, she used her white petticoat to stop a Civil War encounter.

When he was a grown man, Henderson Morgan, the oldest child of Sylvester and Mahala returned to Hickory County, Missouri and for many years operated the Morgan Hotel on the east side of the square in Hermitage, Missouri.

-0-

Email: Dick.Henthorn@gmail.com
Posted: 23 Sep 2009
File: MorMaha

Water Mill at Grape Creek, Vermilion Co., Illinois

Water Mill at Grape Creek, Vermilion Co., Illinois

by

T. Clifford Morgan

Warsaw, MO

A mill was built about three fourths of a mile from Grape Creek on the bank of the Vermilion River in Vermilion County, Illinois. It was built by William Sheets and his brother-in-law, Thomas Scott Morgan. They had married sisters, daughters of Daniel and Ann (Henthorn) Kyger. William Sheets married Elizabeth Kyger on September 3, 1829 and Thomas Morgan married Brooky Kyger on February 20, 1834. In 1835 at the start of building the mill and the dam across the Vermilion River Sheets was 27 years old and Morgan 25.

The mill commenced grinding in 1834. It was known for a number of years as the Morgan and Sheets Mill. In connection with their grist mill they erected a saw mill and a distillery. The mill had customers for 40 miles around. They started with one run of stone but soon had enough business to add a second stone.

In 1850, Henry T. Kyger, son of John Kyger, bought the mill. In 1865, he formed a partnership with his brothers, Daniel and Tilmon and they made improvements to the mill at a cost of about $8000. In 1873, Daniel Kyger took full charge of the mill operation.

The huge grist mill ground corn and wheat night and day for more than sixty years. Power to run the grinding stones and saw mill was furnished by twin turbine wheels driven by water impounded in a huge fore bay or mill race. Water was forced into the latter by a dam built across the river at a right angle to the mill.

Lumber was cut by a gate saw fitted into a huge frame about 8 feet high and six feet wide. The saw mill turned out about 2000 feet of lumber a day. The price of sawing was 50 cents per 100 feet or a share.

Other buildings used in the mill business included a mill barn to house horses and oxen, a cooperage for making barrels to ship flour, a wheat granary, and a barracks for the mill hands. The customers who came for many miles had to wait their turn.

The mill continued in operation until about 1900 when the building weakened by age fell of its own weight into the Vermilion River.

Tradition says that Thomas S. Morgan was arrested on a complaint of men who wanted to use flatboats on the Big Vermilion river and objected to the dam at the Grape Creek mill. Morgan secured Abraham Lincoln to defend him when the case came up for trial at Danville. When the case was called, Lincoln asked the judge if the Big Vermilion River was considered a navigable river by the court. The judge replied that it was. Lincoln requested that the case be dismissed as the State of Illinois had no jurisdiction over navigable rivers and it was therefore a concern of the federal government. The court dismissed the case.

******

Email: Dick.Henthorn@gmail.com
Posted: 23 Sep 2009
File: MorGrapc.txt

The Old Georgetown, Illinois Steam Flour Mill

The Old Georgetown, Illinois Steam Flour Mill

by

T. Clifford Morgan

Warsaw, MO

In 1849, William Sheets, Thomas Scott Morgan and the Kyger brothers, Daniel and Henry T. commenced the construction of the first steam flour mill in Vermilion County at Georgetown, Illinois. All of these men were related by blood or marriage. The mother of the Kyger brothers was Mary (Sheets) Kyger, wife of John Kyger. She was also sister of William Sheets. William Sheets married Elizabeth Kyger and Thomas S. Morgan married her sister Brooky Kyger. The Kyger sisters were the aunts of Daniel and Henry T. Kyger.

Building this mill was a large undertaking and several thousand man hours went into the project. Some men sold their share and Nathaniel Henderson and his son were taken into the partnership. The mill was finished in 1850 by Daniel Kyger, Thomas S. Morgan and Nathaniel Henderson and his son at a cost of about $6000.

The mill was quite large, 40 x 50, with three run of stone. The first story was built of timbers 14" square, the second story of timbers 12" square, the third story timbers were 10" square, and the fourth floor had 8" square timbers. The framing was under the direction of Nathaniel Henderson. The siding was of black walnut and the flooring of black oak. The insidework, millwrighting, etc. was in charge of Martin Moudy of Springfield.

The steam power drove the pin cog and wooden gear. At one point in setting up the machinery, the millwright was unable to figure out how to assemble the machinery. At this point Morgan asked young Daniel Kyger if he could set up the machinery. Daniel was 21 years old at the time. Daniel replied that he thought that he could and he proceeded to set up the steam machinery.

The three pair of millstones were each four feet in diameter. Two were for wheat and one for corn.

When the day arrived, in 1850, when the mill was completed and the machinery was to be tried out the news spread throughout Georgetown and most of the county. It was dark by the time the last minute adjustments were completed and the boiler was fired. People crowded the mill to see the building and the machinery. A lot of boys crowded into the engine room to see the most interesting part of all the mill, the steam engine. The man firing the boiler got up too much steam and the relief valve suddenly started popping off steam. Many boys got knocked down and run over as the crowd made a wild break for the door.

The mill was an instant success and drew customers from miles around. Much of the flour was shipped on flatboats to New Orleans. The flatboat would be sold in New Orleans for lumber and the man that took the flatboat downstream would return as far as possible by steamboat.

There were many curiosities about the old mill. The greatest of them all was Morgan himself, who could laugh a customer into and out of the mill again without any resting place.

Many stories have been told about the old mill, some are as follows:

One day a man doing repairs fell off the roof of the mill. He fell on the back of one of the hogs that were kept to eat waste grain from the mill. The man walked away but the hog had a broken back.

The mill consumed a lot of water and a cistern was dug to store water to assure a steady supply for the boiler. The cistern was close to the door of the engine room and was nearly ten feet across.

At the time the mill first opened steam power was new in Vermilion County and many people were afraid of the steam engine, with all of the heat and noise. One day a negro came to the mill and the men noticed that he was afraid of the noise from the engine room. They decided to have some fun out of him and told him that they had engine trouble and needed help to lift the engine. He took his place near the engine as the men pretended to get ready to lift it. At the moment that the signal to lift was given one man pulled the steam whistle and the negro made a wild break for safety and jumped the cistern near the door, as the men doubled up laughing. After getting over his fright, the man came back and peeping around the door he said, "Thought you would scare me, did you?"

At a time when Thomas Morgan was short of bed room space they decided to let his two oldest boys, Achilles and Sylvester, sleep in the office room of the mill. All went well and the boys enjoyed staying up late in Georgetown and going to bed when they wanted to. One night Achilles heard a noise late in the night and woke up Sylvester to ask him what it was. They decided it was someone trying to break into the mill and they made a hurried trip home through a light snow that had fallen while they were asleep. They failed to worry their father about the burglar and on their return to the mill the next morning they found that their tracks were the only ones made in the fresh snow. Their father laughed at the boys being scared by rats. Sylvester didn't get over his scare easily and refused to go back to the mill to sleep after that.

The old mill changed ownership and names many times. In 1854, Daniel Kyger and Nathaniel Henderson and sons went to Danville to start erection of the Danville Steam Flour Mill. In 1857, Thomas S. Morgan sold his interest and went west to Hickory County, Missouri. Other owners have been M.M. Wright, C.B. Spang and Star among others. By 1970, the old mill had been just a memory for many years and a used car lot was on the ground where the mill once stood.

******

Email: Dick.Henthorn@gmail.com
Posted: 23 Sep 2009
File: MorGeorg.txt

Morgan and the Death Squad

MORGAN AND THE DEATH SQUAD

by

T. Clifford Morgan

(Great-grandson of Thomas Scott Morgan)

Warsaw, MO

Thomas Scott Morgan had moved to Missouri as a strong supporter of Abe Lincoln. His support of Lincoln and his belief that the union of the states should be preserved soon got him into trouble with supporters of Gov. Claiborne Jackson.

After the union defeat at Wilson's Creek, many union men were shot by bushwhackers and many homes burned. It was during this time, that Morgan was in the greatest danger. One day, a large group of mounted and armed men rode into Morgan's yard. With guns drawn, they yelled for Morgan to come out. Phoebe and the young children wanted Morgan to hide somewhere. Instead, Morgan walked out on the upstairs porch. He gave the Masonic sign that he was in distress. It seemed that the leader of the rebels happened to be a Mason and this saved Morgan's life. The rebel leader yelled "Don't shoot that man, if he is shot, I will shoot the man that shoots him." He lowered his gun and galloped his horse out the yard gate. His men followed and they quickly disappeared in
to the timber.

His wife asked him, "Why did the men ride away without any shooting?" Morgan's reply was, "I guess that they changed their minds." He never disclosed any secrets of the Masonic Fraternity.
(Typed for the Henthorn/Bolerjack project by Diane (Black) Wilson.)

-0-

Email: Dick.Henthorn@gmail.com
Posted: 23 Sep 2009
File: MorDeath.txt

The Road to Cross Timbers

THE ROAD TO CROSS TIMBERS

by

T. Clifford Morgan

Warsaw, MO

1997

It was only eight and one half miles, but it seemed that it would never end. It was a hot July day. July in Missouri is always hot, but on this day the sun seemed to be baking the road. The soles on my worn out shoes were so thin that my young feet felt the heat and also each rough place on the road. The walking was much worse for Papa. He was almost sixty two years old, broken in health by the years of hard farm work. The Great Depression, the years of drought, and the blinding dust storms had aged him in spirit and body. Now he was plagued by a left foot painfully swollen by gout. Because he was unable to wear his shoe, Mama had bandaged his foot and made a denim cover for the bandage. Sometimes he would gasp with pain and I kept being afraid that he would give up the trip to Cross Timbers and turn back.

The year was 1936 and I was seventeen years of age. The week before the trip, I had read in the county newspaper, that a county case-worker would be at Cross Timbers the next Monday to accept applications from boys age seventeen and older to enroll in the Civilian Conservation Corps camp at Kaiser, Missouri. It seemed to be a glimmer of hope for me and I asked Papa if I could enroll. He didn't like the idea but he had just about run out of options. The corn crop was dying in the drought, droves of grasshoppers were eating up the pasture, and the mortgage payments were in arrears. Another disaster had hit, Lois, our oldest horse died, and now we didn't have a team for farm work or for going to town in the farm wagon.

I had dreams as a boy of going to college as my cousin Elmer had. He became a geology professor at the University of Texas. I had graduated from eighth grade at the head of my class, but there was no money for my sister, Odessa Mae or me to continue in school. I had looked forward to getting married some day, but probably, no girl would marry a poverty stricken farm boy like me.

It took us about two and one half hours to walk to Cross Timbers on that hot July day in 1936. There was very little traffic and no one offered us a ride in their Ford Model A. We arrived tired and very thirsty. After filling out a lot of paper work, Papa signed an agreement for his son to go to the Kaiser CCC camp. I believe that he felt that I was too young to leave home.

In the CCC, we built roads with pick and shovel, fought forest fires, worked rock quarries and built park buildings in the Lake of the Ozarks State Park. I soon got a job as a tool clerk. One evening a week I attended night class and this started me on a road to recover time lost from school. Twenty five dollars each month was sent home to my parents and I received five to spend. Remembering the dark days of the great Depression, I tried to save some money each month.

My life since the days of 1936 have not always been easy days. I have milked cows, pitched hay in 100 degree temperature, picked cotton and somehow survived a five day raging storm while on a destroyer in the Pacific in WWII. Some time later, I survived the stress of a large company that tried to make life so unbearably hard for their older employees that they would quit, and many did quit. Those that did quit had not walked the road to Cross Timbers as I had. The days of the Great Depression had served to make a man out of the boy. The trials that seemed so vast to some of my friends have sometimes been small trials to me.

Today in the twilight of my life, I have a wonderful wife, children, and a grandson. I have everything that I ever dreamed of because of the road to Cross Timbers sixty one years ago.
(Typed for the Henthorn/Bolerjack project by Diane (Black) Wilson.)

-0-

Email Dick Henthorn: Rhenthorn1@aol.com
Posted: 23 Sep 2009
File: MorCross.txt