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PAGE TWELVE
THE HOUSE-WARMING OF “THE JEFFS”
Os course, Mrs. Lytle (our L. A. L.) thinks
she knows how to write the thing up, but she
doesn't: and, while we print her story, I must
take a fling at the subject, myself.
In the first place, she didn’t stay it out. She
didn't see and hear it all. No, sir. She fled,
in terror, when I sent her word from my roost
on the stone-top table that she would be called
on for a speech.
Yes, Sir; she flew out of the shop, and
never stopped ’till she was in safety, at my
house, three hundred yards away. Conse
quently, she is not qualified to describe that
affair. Iler news is second-hand.
The visitors began to arrive the day before.
Afraid they might miss it, you know. In
these times, when trains are running at ran
dom, you never can tell when you will make
connections. Consequently, if you want to go
anywhere, you'd better start a day or so ahead
of time.
That was the way our good old brother, B.
11. Brown, of North Georgia, thought about
it; and so he rolled in the evening before The
Event. Also, came our red-headed cousin, Ed.
Watson, of Rockdale—with whom travelled
Uncle George Young. Also, my old college
chum. Alex. Keese, of jovial memory.
During the afternoon, came Judge A. S.
Anderson, of Millen; E. A. Whitehead, of
Augusta; J. Gordon Simpson and Grover Ed
mondson. of Quitman.
Same evening, there blew in among us Ben
Blackburn, of Atlanta; Blue Fred Wimberly,
of Cochran; the Daniel brothers, of La-
Grange: Major C. E. McGregor, of Warren
ton : and A. J. Owens, of Canon.
J. J. Brown meant to be here, that night,
but missed a connection, and got stranded in
Athens.
Next morning, soon, arrived the first in
stallment of namesakes, in the lady-like per
son of Miss Tom Watson Ross, of Lincoln
County, daughter of the quaintly humorous
Tai Ross—as true a friend as any man can
boast.
Then the groups of walkers, and of those in
vehicles begun pouring in, until our 90x96 feet
shop was full.
A little after 10 o’clock, the speech-making
began, and it lasted for more than three hours.
No printing establishment on this earth ever
presented such a spectacle as ours did, that
day. Men who were never known to be
eloquent before, were inspiringly so, that day.
Men who had not. shed a tear in years, had
tears in their eyes, that day. And men who
seldom laugh, roared with it, often and
loudly, that day.
For, you see, we had no cut-and-dried pro
gramme. No slate had been made. No list
of speakers had been prepared. Nobody had
been put. on notice that a speech would be
expected of him. Consequently, everything
was spontaneous, natural, genuine, sincere,
warm-hearted.
I simply mounted the stone-top table and
read a declaration of principles which had
been dictated to my secretary that same
morning; and which I commented on, briefly,
while reading.
“These are some of the definite reforms
that I fhink the country needs: what do you
think of them?”
Then, the enthusiasm became manifest.
Blue Fred Wimberly was at his best; and he
supported the declaration in a speech of rare
good humor and good sense. He closed by
calling on Ben Blackburn for a talk; and
Ben's response was warmly applauded.
The crowd had the greatest curiosity to see
and hear the man who walked the log of
Pussy-foot Bill Howard; and I was just on
the eve of putting Sam Tribble up, when
Uncle Fred Wimberly anticipated me.
Tribble’s appearance on the speaker’s table
was lustily cheered. He is a handsome fel-
THE JEFFERSONIAN
low, with prepossessing manner, and the
crowd took to him at once.
Briefly, manfully, and earnestly he ac
knowledged the aid he had received from The
Jeffersonian; and he bore frank and posi
tive testimony to the truth, viz. that the paper
had gone into nearly every house in his Con
gressional District, at my expense. Not a
dollar did he, directly or indirectly, pay for
the help he got from me.
To voluntarily come to Thomson to bear
witness to my unselfish course during the cam
paign, was a magnanimous thing to do; and
my friends appreciated it.
Major McGregor was called by the crowd
and responded with a short address, pitched
to the highest plane—eloquent in its refer
ence to the inspiration from on High that
contributes to the power and success of my
work. Mr. R. 11. Pearce, who was deeply
pleased by the House-warming, thinks Mac’s
speech the best of the day.
R. W. McGinley, the Superintendent of our
plant, spoke in behalf of all the employees,
and caught the audience by saying that
those who worked with me in the production
of The Jeffs believed in them, and were in
sympathy with their purposes. Said he,
“Mr. Watson has told you what wifi be the
rule as long as he is the Chief of the staff.
Why, we are not working for him:. we are
working for you. We want to serve, please,
and benefit you.”
In other words, we never think of what we
are doing for one another, as the main thing:
we have on our minds, always, the public—
the people to whom we send the gospel of
The Jeffs.
I couldn't think of letting B. H.‘Brown go
back home without carrying in his mind the
memory of having been complimented by that
splendid assembly; therefore, the white
haired veteran of the reform cause was asked
to make us a speech. He did so; and he was
given such a warm reception that it must have
done his old heart good.
Did you know that J. J. Brown is a “na
tural-born” orator? I didn't—not until he
spoke at our House-warming. His fervid,
beautiful and touching tribute—coming hot
from a loyal spirit—came mighty near mak
ing me break down.
Judging by the shouts of applause, the
crowd considered “J. J’s.” speech the finest
of the occasion.
Classically and passionately superb was
the address of T. J. Dorough, editor of the
only paper of the Eighth Georgia district that
supported Tribble against Pussy-foot. He,
too, was enthusiastically cheered by the crowd
—which had been told by “J. J.” that Dor
ough had won, in the Eighth, the name of
“Tom Watson, number 2.”
“Let us see the ‘number 2!’” shouted a
voice,, amid uproarious applause and laughter.
Dorough came up to reputation, making a
splendid hit.
Our new home was built under the super
vision of “Uncle Johnnie Crocker,” an old
Pop, who presented to me the beautiful silk
banner, worked by ladies of Lincoln county
preserved as a sacred souvenir of the Nineties.
I had no written contract with “Uncle
Johnnie'’ as to the construction of the house:
simply told him to go ahead and build it as
he would for himself. He did so, taking just
as much pride in having the work done prop
erly, as though the house were his. So, I
thought he should be called on for a little
speech.
The substance of his brief talk was, “If
any other contractor can come along and build
this house for less money, I’ll give it to him.”
Which tickled the crowd, all right.
Dr. Keese, convulsed the audience with
some of his witticisms, in which he was fol
lowed by Mr. Webb, the President of the
Farmers’ Union Warehouse Company. Brother
Webb seasoned his discourse with several most
amusing anecdotes, which were received with
peals of merriment.
.In fact, all the speeches were good and en
joyable. The spirit of the crowd was so fine,
the good feeling was so contagious that it
enthused the speakers.
When R. E. Neal, President of the Mc-
Duffie County Farmers’ Union, acted upon
his own noble impulse, and spoke of how
many ardent friends were mine, in my home
county, the very climax of warmth in our
wonclerful House-warming was reached. No
tribute has ever pleased and touched me more
profoundly.
But let me tell you about “Dosh” Massen
gale, better known to the general public as
lion. T. E. Massengale, Representative-elect
from Warren county. He came to our meet
ing, by special invitation. In 1872, he hired
me to clerk for him, in his store at Gunn’s
Mills, the present Norwood.
Called upon for a speech at our House
warming. he responded by giving a brief out
line of the early life of “a little red-headed,
freckle-faced boy,” who used to come to the
Thomson post-office, riding a big, bob-tailed
gray horse named “Charley.”
“Dosh” Massengale was clerk in the office,
and the boy being too small to get off the
horse and up again, Dosh would carry the
mail out to the little fellow.
Next, the speaker mentioned an incident
that I had forgotten. One day in Thomson
a drunken brute—a young man ot robust size
and strength, and a good fellow when sober
—struck an old Confederate soldier, who was
a mere wreck of a man, one of whose legs
was useless, and who had to hop about on
crutches.
The blow was struck in the store where this
little red-headed boy was clerking.
“That little fellow,” said Massengale, “drew
a knife that looked almost as big as he did,
and said to the drunkard, ‘Don’t you hit him,
again.'’ ”
Why, dear me, Dosh! have you forgotten
that we used to have a big knife to cut the
cheese with, and that this small sword always
lay beside the cheese?
It was the cheese-knife that the little boy
grabbed. Henry Harris was the name of the
soldier; and it is a pleasure to recall that
he was ever afterwards my devoted friend.
He moved to Atlanta, and became Keeper of
Public Buildings and Grounds.
Another thing Dosh Massengale told about.
Tn the years when the little red-headed boy
had become a lawyer and was struggling to
rise, he, Massengale employed the young man
to manage a very important case, which he
gained. - <
“What do I owe you?” asked Massengale.
“Not a cent,” answered the lawyer. Grate
ful to the man who had been kind to him
when young, and who had given him his first
job, the young attorney couldn't think of
charging a fee.
In 1892, when so many people had been
made crazy by newspaper lies, a man came
from the “Smoker” into the passenger car
where I had just taken my seat, and yelled—-
“Where is that damned rascal who sold
out to the Republicans?”
“Here he is,” I said, as I rose and knocked
the insuiter down. He was so dumbfounded
that he returned to the Smoker without an
other word.
But passions were running so high, that
several men in the coach made demonstra
tions of a purpose to assault me.
“Dosh” Massengale happened to be in the
car: he sprang up, stood on the seat, and
cried out,
“Gentlemen, let Watson alone! He couldn’t
have done anything else. I am a Democrat;
but I heard that insult, and no brave man
could take it!”
That quieted everything down.