This five-part chapter, then, is about the general store—but more than the stores themselves, it also features the families that owned them, our attempt being to set the stores into the context of the owners’ larger lives rather than looking at the stores simply as artifacts; to set them into a background of lifestyle and activity.
The first section is about the Moore family and the Fort Hembree store. Moving chronologically through time, the second is about the P. D. Queen store in Passover (now Mountain City), Georgia, the ledgers from which were dated 1898-1907. The last three sections are about Depression-era establishments, all of which, like the former two, are now closed. In the latter instances, however, their owners are still alive and were interviewed for their firsthand experiences. Of these last three, the final one lasted until most recently. Rance Gillespie conducted the interviews with his grandfather, Earl Gillespie, whose produce business was located in Clayton, our county seat, and lasted until the mid-1970s. Earl’s store was unusual in our county, not only because of the people involved and the various services it provided, but also because up until the very end, a portrait of Franklin Roosevelt hung proudly above one of the most spectacular cash registers in the mountains.
PLATE 33 The typical general store was crammed from floor to ceiling with goods. The T. M. Rickman store, which still exists near Franklin, North Carolina, is one good example. This view shows the interior of his store as seen from the front door.
PLATE 34 Mr. Rickman and his nephew behind the counter.
In rural areas like ours, older people still say, “I trade at_______,” rather than, “I shop at _______.” That expression has honorable roots, abundantly illustrated by this remarkable chapter about a social institution called the general store.
THE FORT HEMBREE STORE AND TANNERY
Eight Generations of Moores
I care a lot for my grandfolks. I’ve visited them since I was a child, and I remember those visits fondly. Their sensitivity is one thing that makes them so unique. Their concern goes out in all directions, and their generosity is never far behind. They’ve left me with memories I will tell my grandkids, and if those grandchildren ever feel the same way about me, I will know I’ll have been a success.
I never dreamed I’d be able to give my grandparents anything back that would mean something special to them. But after working with Grandpa on our family’s history, I’ve become sensitive in a way I never was before to my background and to why he has saved all the letters and photographs and documents and scrapbooks he has over all these years. Now I care about our family in the same way my grandparents do.
For older people out there who have given up on the younger generation, I can say that there are a lot of us who are learning to listen to you. There are still some of us whose opinions aren’t so hardened that they can’t be molded to your wisdom. Many who realize how much you have to contribute.
I guess it can be a scary feeling if you convince yourself society has no room for you—that the hotel of life is filling up and soon there’ll be no vacancies. I guess society sometimes seems like a pack of wolves that follows the caribou herd, feeding on the young and the old, the sick and the lame.
Yet in the coming generation there is a growing number of people who care. Only an optimist could speak of it as a plethora, but the number is far greater than it was a few years back. Maybe with a little time, these seeds of concern will grow and bear fruit; and maybe, before long, many will see and appreciate what only a lucky few of us have seen so far.
JOHN SINGLETON
John began this article about his family during this last winter quarter of school while I was working on another article. I saw all the documents and ledgers he had borrowed from his grandfather and I said to myself, “That stuff looks real interesting.” So after I finished my article, I decided to spend the spring quarter helping John finish his.
PLATE 35 John Singleton with his grandfather, Frank Moore.
The first thing I worked on was the 1846 ledger from the general store at Fort Hembree run by John C. Moore. I went through a number of the accounts, some of which are reprinted in this article, to see if I could tell anything about the people by what they bought.
John and I both had problems with the meanings of some of the words and with the handwriting on some of the older letters, and so Wig, John, and I spent part of a day at the State Archives in Atlanta where Pete Schinkel and Linda Leslie were able to straighten us out and come up with some ideas for ways we could me some of the material we had. One thing they had that helped a lot was a Webster’s dictionary that was published in the 1880s.
Later, we went back to John’s grandparents, Frank and Nannie Moore, over near Hayesville, North Carolina, to clear up some questions about the store and some of the family members. It was John’s third trip in connection with this article, but it was my first, and I was really glad to meet them. We went in the living room and Mr. Moore got out his records and scrapbooks and photographs, and we started going through them looking for the answers to our questions while Mrs. Moore put out a huge dinner for us in the dining room. I was completely amazed at the things they had saved and how well they had been preserved. We have reproduced many of the documents in this article so that you can share our excitement, too.
The Moores really have a sense of value for their heritage and for the peoplewho settled this part of the country. They are also very generous people. Mr. Moore has given away at least as much as he has saved. They’re all-around great people with much to share, and they have their past to keep them strong in a part of the country where their roots go deep—a community that has now changed so much that they sometimes feel like strangers. I’m glad John was willing to share them with me, and I hope we’re going to be friends for a long time.
VAUGHN W. ROGERS, JR.
The chart below shows John’s family line at a glance—from Aaron (the Moore who immigrated to America from Ireland) to John himself. The family does not know who Aaron’s ancestors were.
Aaron Moore Aaron married and had six daughters and three sons, one of whom was John, born November 19, 1777.
John Moore John married Martha Covington, and they had four daughters and four sons, one of whom was Joab, born on December 15, 1800. [John Covington Moore, who ran the general store at Fort Hembree, was another of John’s sons.]
Joab Lawrence Moore Joab married Martha Patton, and they had six daughters and five sons, one of whom was William, born February 5, 1831.
William Patton Moore (“Irish Bill”) Irish Bill married Harriet Naomi Gash, and they had five daughters and five sons, one of whom was Lawrence, born November 15, 1870.
Lawrence Richardson Moore Lawrence married Caledonia Ledford, and they had three daughters and two sons, one of whom was Franklin, born August 17, 1902.
Franklin Charles Moore Frank married Nannie Lou Chambers, and they had two sons and two daughters, one of whom was Sarah, born November 25, 1932.
Sarah Lou Moore Sarah married Edward Singleton, and they had two sons, one of whom was John, born February 25, 1962.
John Lawrence Singleton John is the high school senior who authored this article. [After he graduated from Rabun County High, he majored in journalism at the University of Georgia.]
Aaron and John Moore
Aaron Moore is my great-great-great-great-great-grandpa. He was born in Ireland. It’s not totally known why he left his home but it’s probable he left because of trouble. The Catholics at that time were under persecution and although it isn’t known what religion he was practicing, it is doubtful that he or anyone else in Ireland could remain neutral. Add to this the fact that Ireland had still not accepted the then imperialistic British rule, and it is easy to see why he might have decided to become part of the growing exodus from Ireland to this country.
He arrived at Pennsylvania sometime during the 1740s as just another immigrant, but he soon found himself a captain in the Army. He even survived General Braddock’s defeat and eventually came so
uth. None of the records during this nomadic stage have been preserved to our knowledge and they are probably gone forever. It is known that he settled in what is now Rutherford County. It was here that his children were raised.
One of these children was John Moore. In all truth, he was the first true-blooded American ancestor of my family. Born December 15 in 1800, he grew up in Rutherford County on the banks of the Broad River. Not much else is known of him except that he gave birth to four sons, two of whom were Joab Lawrence Moore, and John Covington Moore. The latter first came and settled in Clay County, North Carolina, [then Haywood] and Joab Lawrence, evidently after hearing of his move, also came. It was Joab who bought the farm that is still in the hands of what’s left of our family.
John C. Moore
John C. Moore was the son of John Moore. He was born in 1811 in Rutherford County. Being the expansionist and adventuring person he was led to his being the first white man to move into the Tusquittee Valley area. After his runaround with Indians, he showed them where he stood and they got along fine after that. He settled a large area of land by which he made his living. He started a whole new community, which is a remarkable feat. Here Frank Moore talks about him:
This newspaper article [reprinted after Frank Moore’s comments] gives some of the facts about John C. Moore. There are some other things that I remember hearing about him. The first trip he made in here—it wadn’t when him and his wife come, but he’d been over here before then. He come down on the head of Perry Creek. Indians lived on the head of the creek there, and he stayed all night with the Indians there. He said during the night they was a-talkin’, you know, and said the Indians would come in at the door and just come right by you and look you in the face and just walk right on and wouldn’t speak. They’d just walk right on through into the kitchen and they’d grab down into a big barrel of hominy. They’d stay in there and they’d eat hominy awhile and then said they’d come in, sit down, and go to talkin’. But said they wouldn’t speak or nothing till they went on through yonder and got ’em a run of hominy. Then they’d come back, sit down, and go to talkin’.
Later he built him a little log cabin in Tusquittee Valley, brought his wife over and stayed friendly with the Indians. He needed a wagon and some stuff to farm with, so he left his wife with the Indians, and he went away into Tennessee or Alabama—somewhere down in there—to buy him a wagon. He bought the wagon and got as far as what was then Cherokee County. They wadn’t no road in here to bring the wagon on to get in, but there was an Indian trail up the Hiawassee River. He had to take his wagon apart and carry it wheel by wheel, piece by piece, up the river. That’s how he got it up here. After he brung it up here, piece by piece, then he put it back [together]. That was the first wagon that ever came in.
Then right after that, he went down to Hayesville there and put up the first big store in western North Carolina. He got a fella by the name of McCrae to run the store, but it belonged to both of them. Then John C. put up a big tannery by the side of the store down there just beyond Hayesville. They called it Fort Hembree, and they run that tannery and store. I’ve got the books, where it was run for years there [see records following the reprinted newspaper article]. They come from Georgia, North Carolina, and everywhere to trade there.
The following is a newspaper article about John C. Moore, probably printed in the Franklin, [North Carolina] Press. Frank Moore had it in his scrapbook.
“John C. Moore was born in Rutherford County, North Carolina, in the year 1811. When grown, he moved to Macon County where he won the heart and hand of Miss Mary Bryson as his help mate. After many fond dreams and thoughts of a fortune in the future, they each agreed to cast their lot among the Indians in the fertile Tusquittee Valley. They packed two horses with household effects and their first born, little Bill, and started across the Chunkie Gal Mountain, the road being a precipitous Indian trail at that day. They soon safely landed at a small Indian cabin in the bottoms at the side of the road just below W. H. Johnson’s residence.
PLATE 36 This historical marker stands on the courthouse lawn in Hayesville, North Carolina.
“Mr. Moore, being an expansionest and endowed with pluck and brains and capital enough for any young man to earn a living, he set out to felling the monster trees and clearing land to grow Indian corn, the staff of life.
“One day, when erecting his fence, an Indian came along and protested against the fencing enterprise on their possessions. Each of them grew into a combative spirit and tried their luck at fist and skull fight, Mr. Moore biting the Indian’s thumb nearly off and the Indian retreating hollowing ‘Wa Wa.’ Later other Red Men came and Mr. Moore got his old Flint Lock Gun, set up a board shooting hole demonstrating to the Indians his coat of arms to protect himself in case of wars. The Indians seeing this, all retreated never to molest him again.
“Garden work well along and crops about ready to store in his new garner, he secured an Indian woman, Sallie Peckerwood, Jim’s wife, to stay with Mary and little Bill while he returned with his two horses to Macon County to get more household equipment for icy winter’s cold winds. Loading and leading one horse packed to wonderous capacity, he then started for old Tusquittee via Chunkie Gal Mountain. The first day’s travel landed him at the head of Tusquittee at an Indian’s by the name of Yone Connahut, the good family giving their guest plenty of Connie Honie [Hominy] for supper. After supper several Indians came in to display to their white man their mode of dancing, one of them getting drunk and vomiting part of his Connie Honie. The next morning, after loading his horses, Mr. Moore wended his way by an Indian trail a few hours later reaching his new home to find Mary and little Bill. While he had been gone, Sallie Peckerwood had day by day tied little Bill Moore in the blanket, Indian style, for her papoose taking him up Johnson’s Creek to pick up chestnuts under the rich October skies.
“This being several years prior to the land sale, when the land sale came, he bought what is now the Shearer and Evans property on Tusquittee.
“As the years sped by more bright children were added to this new home, Sarah Elizabeth, Joab, and Lizzie. Seeing the needs of these buds of promise and the needs of his farm, he got two other stalwart men, rigged his horses with harness, the collars being made of shucks, and started for Tennessee to purchase the first wagon to ever track the soil of Clay County. These three men with axes trimmed their road as they went. As they came up the Hiawassee River and reaching the shut in at the Leatherwood Bluff below Hon. J. C. Herbert’s, they had to take the wheels off the wagon and carry it piece by piece around the mountain. Resuming the former way of clearing the road, they reached his Tusquittee home where Bob Evans now lives.
“Just imagine the radiant smile of his wife and children and Indian neighbors as they stood gazing at the new wagon—the new Ford car at that time. These gleeful children thought they were riding some in this new wagon.
“Later Mr. Moore sold these possessions to James Allen Shearer and purchased a lot of the Ford property and the Warne property at Brasstown, starting his vocation of farming and fencing again. One day while fencing, he went to fell a sapling for a ground pole, hit something with his axe causing it to glance off. This broke his axe and on examining the rock he discovered he had with his monstrous blow struck the lick of fortune. Looking at this rock and others his keen eyes beheld plenty of shining gold. With bold steps and smiles of fortune on his face, he carried some of these rich treasures to his wife. Fortune, they say, knocks at every man’s door and Moore’s fencing proposition was the key to turn him in. Later Moore sold these lands and his gold mine to Warne and Bill Boe, thus the Warne Gold Mines were started. He received quite a handsome sum of money for the mines for that day. Then Mr. Moore started for Tusquittee again buying a large farm from Lovelady. Here he died at the age of ninety-two years; his wife being about ninety.
“Their son Bill located in Asheville and reared sixteen children. Lizzie married John Robbins who taught the first school at Robbinsville, this town bei
ng named in his honor. Sarah married the Hon. William Herbert; the Hon. J. C. Herbert being then our Senator, two of their sons became physicians. Miriam Moore married Abner Moore; T. C. Moore was born to this union. T. C. Moore married a Caldwell; to their union fifteen children were born to do honor as teachers and various honorable vocations to J. C. Moore’s name.
“Mr. John C. Moore came to Tusquittee and lived among the Indians five to seven years before they were removed from this section. Douglas Davis was the second white man to locate here. The writer of this sketch has often sat and listened to Mr. John C. Moore as he would rehearse his life among the Red Men and tell of their habits, ways of living, dances and ball games. One of the most outstanding incidents was that the Indians would go to a mountain between Jay and Paul Moore’s and get silver ore on the sly and take to their furnaces and run bars of bullion. This they took to Tennessee and traded for coin.
“He was a man of fundamental principles of the Bible. Psalms XLI, ‘Blessed is he that considereth the poor: the Lord will deliver him in time of trouble. The Lord will preserve him and keep him alive and he shall be blessed upon the earth; and thou wilt not deliver him unto the will of his enemies.’
“Mr. Moore’s lineal descent was German, Dutch, Scotch, Irish and English. He affiliated with the Presbyterian Church where he imbibed a lot of his lofty ideals and noble principles.
“Joab Moore, son of John C. Moore, was one of the most eminent physicians of the State of Texas.”
The ledger from the Fort Hembree tannery for 1846-47, which Frank Moore still has, makes fascinating reading for those interested today in the kinds of sales and purchases such a tannery made in a mountain community. We went through its pages and listed the following sales to give you an idea of the variety:
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