Memories of Accomac, 1890

A friend recently said to me that after all our memories remain with us and with many are all they get out of life. Certainly I cherish nothing more than my memories of old Drummondtown and Accomack County in 1890, now nearly half a century ago, when I spent a summer with my dear old cousin, Dr. John J. Wise, at his old home "Woodburn," about a mile north of Drummondtown.

I was then a lad of fourteen and full of youthful vitality and activity and interest and curiosity about all things of the Eastern Shore new to a boy who had spent most of his time in the inland country mountains.

Dr. John J. Wise was then my present age, sixty-one. He was a great soul. He was one of the oldest and best known doctors of the county, practicing all over the county by the old horse and buggy method of transportation of the country doctor no longer known.

There are few of us left, who remember Dr. Wise and his little dark brown, hipped horse, "Snap," when he was a familiar traveler on all country roads and by ways, day in and day out, every morning and afternoon and at night when necessary to minister to the ailments of the people where needed. His price was $1.00 to $1.50 for a visit to the home and 50 cents when the patient came to his office which was where the drug-store now stands. He had served valiantly as a surgeon in the Confederate Army throughout the Civil War. From 1865 until his death in 1895 he served his people. Having no money was no excuse for not calling him. Pay or no pay he wanted nobody to suffer for need of his attention. Nobody knew what charity he rendered to the poor who could not pay.

I have never seen any person derive more satisfaction than the old doctor did when he would give some poor person's child a nickel or a dime where he knew it was helpful -- and you can understand that in those days nickels and dimes were not trash -- money was a rarity. I know, for I traveled with the doctor on his circuit and held his horse at gates of houses where hardworking poor people had only what they produced off their land -- which was the bare necessities of life. The fishermen could sell their catch and get some money.

Don't misunderstand there was no abject poverty. The poor house had long since fallen down and nearly everybody had at least one good horse, a cow, chickens and eggs, pigs. Sweet potatoes and white potato crops took care of their needs. The people were far better provided for than those in many counties I had known on the Western Shore.

They were a wonderfully orderly law-abiding people. There was scarcely any stealing or crime. I have never known better people. However humble or simple, they were kind and polite.

I never recall one passing on the road without the customary nod -- the neighborly salutation.

Dr. Wise was a typical Eastern Shoreman of his time. He was slight of stature and a little less than six-feet tall. He was as bald as a clam-shell with a pair of big violet-blue eyes that popped out like the eyes of a crab. They were the kindest eyes anybody ever saw but when angered the old man could almost shoot fire and his swearing was sulphurous and almost musical. He had a pair of large ears that stood well out from his head and were so thin the light came through them. He also had the full length Eastern Shore beard.

I slept in the room with him. In those days we had no fly screens. The doctor's abomination was flies. They tickled his bald head so that when smoking his pipe on the porch evenings he had to wear his hat. He said, a mosquito gave an honest warning, but, what he said of flies, ought not to be printed for general reading.

Many nights I was awakened by the old fellow, out of bed, killing flies with a folded newspaper and throwing stifling clouds of fly powder.

Nights there would be medical calls. For those he went out regularly without any secrecy. But other nights there were very gentle taps on the blinds, hushed talk and quiet exits.

Some have suspected this meant a poker game in the town. Generally after these calls the doctor did not get up in the morning early enough to make his customary inspection of the farm before breakfast.

The doctor had five good horses and there was one always available for my travels around the country and I traveled. Tom Scarburgh was a distant relative of mine and about my age and we ranged far and wide for youngsters.

Money we didn't have so we made out own amusement out of riding, fishing, sailing and swimming.

After the doctor's visits to his patients he was on the porch of his office where gathered a group of cronies to settle the affairs of the land and await the midday mail. Only a few of the elite belonged to this coterie.

Mr. John J. Blackstone was the most regular. He was older than the doctor but they had been friends many years.

Nobody in town was a subscriber to any daily metropolitan newspaper giving the racing returns of the previous afternoon. Before leaving New York I had subscribed to the New York Evening World. It was an innovation in Drummondtown. As all the blades usually made an annual trip north to trotting and running races they gathered for the news and Drummondtown, was threatened with becoming a sporting centre in a mild way.

Mr. Blackstone was always neatly and well dressed, with the old fashioned white pique tie. He was a very handsome old gentleman, with a clear complexion, gray hair and always neatly shaven. He was all that dignity and refinement could suggest. Even with me, only a boy, he was princely in his courtesy and consideration.

I have no memory of any man of my many acquaintances I hold above him in his eminent gentility.

John W. G. Blackstone was pretty regular at the noon gatherings. He was then a practicing lawyer. John wore the loudest clothes he could buy, the gaudier the better for him. His cuff buttons were a gold enameled poker hand. He was an able young lawyer and well liked and respected. He later became Circuit Judge.

Mr. Willie Bell and Mr. Thomas W. Blackstone were busy at their drug store and had little time for these gatherings.

Bill Ayres (pronounced Rs) the blacksmith was a man of intelligence and character and always welcome, but in working hours he rarely had time to leave his shop. He had his shop where his son now is. Ned was then his understudy.

Mr. Elijah Hickman was the other village smithy but he was a quiet type.

We had no telephone in those days and telegrams had to come up from Tasley.

Bill R's didn't need any telephone. He had a voice that enabled him to talk to the town. He was a grand old character. A large handsome man with a wonderful genial and kindly disposition.

One day he told me he needed some cats to protect his barn against rats. I was then doing a lot of traveling around the country and proceeded to pick up every spare cat I could find and landed twenty-seven on him. In after years whenever he saw me he referred to the cat episode.

Henry Ayres would stop in, but being only a carpenter he didn't find it very congenial to mix in with lawyers, doctors and students. Henry lived in the little house near the drug store which I believe he built with his own labor.

He lived to be an old man. Sitting on the steps of the old Coleburn store, which was on the present open space on Main Street now opposite the drug store, he told me he worked as a carpenter building that house in 1855, and that year cast his first vote for my grandfather for Governor.

Tom Russell was a young lawyer in Drummondtown then. He was a great friend of John Blackstone and John Bundick, another local lawyer. Young Jim Fletcher, afterwards Circuit Judge, was a lawyer then.

William Parker was living in the Gibb House on the back street where Dr. John Hack Ayers afterwards lived. He had a pretty little daughter about my age. Lottie she was called. All the boys were making eyes at Lottie.

Dr. J. H. Ayres was a young doctor and was usually at the noon gathering.

Dr. George Scarburgh was a gray bearded Confederate veteran and a familiar figure around the town.

Miss Sadie Bayly was living at her house Rural Hill and always neatly dressed and with her parasol would be seen on her afternoon walk. Then the croquet game on the lawn of the Episcopal Rectory.

Mr. Cammie Oldham was County Clerk and was beloved by everybody.

Fitchett was the indispensable harness maker of the town with his little shop on the road just at the end of the row of the law offices.

John Richardson was then building his sailing skiffs, the best the shore ever knew, and Welly Coard was beginning to build dead rise bateaux.

George Parker was then running a general store.

Boss Henry Melson was familiar figure. So was Mr. Alfred Lilliston.

Floyd Nock was then an established lawyer as was Sam Ross, afterward County Judge.

Judge Thomas C. Parramore was a great friend of Dr. Wise and in pleasant weather was usually at the gathering.

He was a bit irascible and it was proverbial that when the dinner bell of the hotel rang and the dog barked, the old judge swore blue streaks.

George Parramore was then a young lawyer, if he wasn't on one of his distant sea travels.

Miss Lizzie Parramore and Miss Betty Parramore were the young ladies of the day.

Bayly Brown was Congressman.

John Edmonds was running the Enterprise and James Rowles and Bob Coleburn were his main staff.

His brother Ned Edmonds was a pretty regular attendant at the noon meeting.

Duff Savage was proprietor of the old hotel. There was bar there so I was not allowed to hang around. Those were the days when dinner cost a quarter and he served everything the country provided. Here gathered the farmers, drummers and travelers.

Jimmy Scott, with about two feet of white beard, would often drive in and by the time he had a few drams, he's expatiate on the size of his apples.

Nat Lang had a bar in the house up at the corner of the open on Jail Road, next to the Debtor's Prison. The patronage there was largely fishermen and country people. Some wild parties broke out over there at times. The rough crowds fought it out there.

In those days we had the County Court, which met monthly, with Judge John W. Gillet on the bench. Then we had the Circuit Court with Judge Ben T. Gunter on the bench.

Judge Gillet was a very studious, reserved and dignified man. He was not much seen around the town. He lived in the old house just below the tavern, afterwards occupied by Judge Ross.

That by the way is the highest point on the Eastern Shore, thirty-six feet above sea level.

The Circuit Court handled the more important civil cases. The County Court was the big time. Everybody came to town. Then was when the folks swapped horses and jack-knives and made up the boat-races.

Everything was transacted and settled at County Court. It's abandonment is a community misfortune.

In those days the Langs and the Milliners were a legion.

I spent all the time I could with "Polk" Lang, fishing out of Folly Creek, from Garrison's and Black Stump Landings, and the day never passes when I do not look back to it all as one of the most interesting times in my life.

Mrs. Etta A. Wise and her daughter Miss Etta were teaching school and music at the old Woodburn farm where they had twenty or thirty pupils from whom they collected from $5 to $10 a year each, if they could pay it.

About the biggest entertainment of those days was a beach party.

Two or three sailing bateaux would take a party out to Metompkin Beach. They started in the early morning and spent the day in the torrid heat and got home all hours of the night and morning according to the wind.

In those days we had little ice. We had no thermos bottles. We had to be content with cold sandwiches.

We had no cabins on the bateaux and we had to take the sun and rain until we could reach the Life Saving Station.

On one beach party we were storm bound over night in the Life Saving Station and I think extra mosquitoes were brought in from all the world. On another years later the weather detained our return.

I was piloting one boat and old John (Sounding-pole) Lilliston another. John wouldn't accept it that I knew the Metompkin Bay better than he did and refused to follow me. He put his boat up Deep Gut and grounded it on an ebb tide.

I brought my people in about mid-night but his people spent the ebb in the marsh with the mosquitoes and got home the next morning about nine o'clock.

I am glad to say not all the landmarks have been swept away.

I had the satisfaction of being partially instrumental in the elimination of the old Coleburn storehouse and extending the open space in the centre of the town and in building the present tavern set back of the road.

I hope the old place will preserve its old character.

These are rambling recollections but they bespeak happy days never to return with these old folks.

They are not intended to present any historical theme -- just memories of the old place and the folks as they lived.