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October 30, 1991
Ghost Fry by John Seawright
Nancy Rumsey, the Queen of Goshen
Antebellum Georgia, like most other
places at most other times, wasn’t a great
place for women who wanted much more
from life than babies, cooking and hoeing.
For black women there were no other op
tions; for the tiny minority of white women
not bound to the kitchen and fields the cycle
of childbearing gave little time for anything
else. In any case the professions, the pulpit
and most trades were closed to women.
Even teaching was practically a male
monopoly. An unmarried woman could
never hope for much in that world: she
would always be an object of pity or suspi
cion. A married woman might learn her
husband’s trade, assist him in it, and even
effectively conduct it in his stead if he was
lazy, sickly, or a arunk, but so long as he
remained alive she would walk in his legal
and economic shadow. Only in widowhood
could a woman hope to become someone
in her own right.
Many women prospered on their dead
husbands' farms or at their trades (the most
notable was probably Sarah Hillhouse of
Wilkes county, Georgia’s first woman news
paper editor). Much rarer were the widows
who started from scratch and achieved
wealth and influence on their own. The
most remarkable of these women was Nancy
Rumsey of Elbert county.
Nancy Rumsey’s maiden name is un
known — possibly Jones. She was born in
Virginia in 1799 and moved to South Caro
lina with her family. While in her teens she
married Caleb Oliver of Elbert county, a
wealthy widower more than twice her age.
Caleb Oliver died in 1823, leaving Nancy
his considerable estate until she should die
or remarry. In 18331 Nancy Oliver married
a man named Rumsey and lost her inher
ited wealth. By 1840 she had lost Mr.
Rumsey as well and was left with two sons,
an eiderly woman (probably her mother), a
small farm in the Goshen district of Eibert
county (near present-day Bowman) and
very slim prospects. She was middle-aged,
poor and illiterate.
In upper Georgia in those days roads
were bad, farms widely scattered, and social
opportunities limited. One Tuesday each
month the sheriff of each county would
auction off mortgaged property on the
courthouse steps to satisfy unpaid debts.
Every three months the judge and lawyers
of the circuit would roll into the county seat
for court week. Every August and Septem
ber the country
side would be
speckled with
Methodist and
Baptist revivals
and camp meet
ings. These occa
sions were the so
cial heart of the
society and their
business was con
ducted amidst a
carnival atmos
phere having little
to do with either
the dignity of the
law or the solem
nity of religion. To
these gatherings
would come
Nancy Rumsey,
“fat and square,"
as one old lawyer recalled, in a wagon
drawn by two red oxen bringing homemade
liquor, beer, cider and gingerbread (these
were the days of the "peach brandy Bap
tists"). She would stop at the courthouse
steps or pitch a tent on the campground, let
down the wagon gate, haul out a table and
some mugs and be open for business. Her
customers ranged from the poorest
farmboys to the circuit court judges and it
was generally agreed that for over twenty
years she never once missed a court week,
salesday or camp meeting in Elbert county.
With her profits she built a tavern on the
main road by her home in Goshen and,
while never abandoning her travelling trade,
embarked on the second phase of her
career. Nancy Rumsey s tavern became
the gathering place for the community and
was soon established as the lawground
polling place and site of the monthly Justice
of the Peace courts — for the Goshen
District. “Aunt" Nancy was intelligent and
tactful and her opinions were respected by
the men who
gathered to drink
and talk politics.
It soon became
clear that any
candidate for
county office
would have to
have her in his
corner in order to
carry Goshen
district on elec
tion day. It be
came customary
for political aspi
rants to |ourney
up to Goshen to
present a small
token of their es
teem—cash only
—before election
day. This custom
quickly evolved into a political protection
racket — payment wouldn’t guarantee Aunt
Nancy’s support, but nonpayment would
insure her opposition.
The tavern became a required stopping
place for lawyers, judges and state politi
cians passing between Augusta and Car-
nesville or Clarkesville. It was the site of one
of the debates of the 1850s between future
Confederate Vice President Alexander
Stephens and future U.S. Senator Benjamin
Hill. But politics was not the only attraction.
There were the usual pastimes; horse rac
ing, shooting matches, fistfights, dogfights,
cockfights and the attendant gambling.
Once John Robinson's nationally famous
New York circus set up for a week next to the
tavern on one of their southern tours.
Whether the attraction was a senator, an
elephant, or a bare knucks dogfall fight,
Aunt Nancy would be counting coins at the
end of the day.
Near the end of her life Nancy Rumsey.
having ascended from poor farmer to busi
nesswoman to power broker, finally fulfilled
the dream of nearly every white southerner
and became a slaveowner. With a thou
sand dollars in thrips, half-dimes and half
bits (3, 5 and 6 1/4 cent coins) she bought
a black man but didn’t live long enough to
lose her investment. She died just before
the onset of the Civil War.
Thirty years after her death, a writer in
the Elberton Star said of Nancy Rumsey
"...if her lot had been cast in a different
sphere where she could have had the
advantage of an education [she] would
have made a record in the world that would
have been envied by many." The pity is not
that this lament is true, but that it is false.
Unless Nancy Rumsey had lived in a few
enclaves in Europe, New England, or,
possibly, the western frontier, all the educa
tion in the world would have qualified her for
little more than to adorn her husband’s
parlor and amaze his friends with recita
tions from Homer.
In her place and time Nancy Rumsey
gained respect and admiration that few
men ever attained. Many a sharp lawyer or
wealthy planter must have looked, not with
pity or contempt, but with pure envy, to see
the judge, legislators and merchants lined
up by the old red oxen to pay their respects
to the illiterate Queen of Goshen.
Next Week: Ghost Fry climbs the
Stump: Hillbilly Scalawag Says Bum That
Rebel Pirate Flag.
copyright 1991 John Seawright
It became customary for
political aspirants to journey
up to Goshen to present a
small token of their esteem
— cash only —
before election day.
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