Document text
January 20, 1939.
lira. William Craig (white)
R 1, University, N. C.
Orange Co., N. C.
Housewife
A. W. Long, writer.
COREFISLD SCOTCH-IRIS4
Oriainal Name Clawed Nam%
Urs. William Craig
Lary Barton
Writer
A.W.Long
Brevard,N.C.
Dec.15,1938.
CORNFIELD SCOTCH-aRISH
A History of the Long Family of Orange,Co.,N.C.
1755-1938
The Writer is the oldest living representative of this
family and probably knows more about its history than
anybody else. The latter part of this story was told by
Mrs.William Craig (born Long), R 1,University,N.C.
Luther B.Long,Newton,N.C.,also knows a good deal about
the history of the family.).
INTRODUCTORY
The Writer believes this history of the Long family
to be authentic, from the tame it bought land in Orange
Co.,in 1755, down to the present day. The emphasis has
been laid on the younger generation, and an attempt has
been made to show, by statements of fact, what life has done to
this younger generation and what it has done to life. In his
statements, the Writer has relted upon what.he has seen with his
own eyes and on what the older generation told to him. As a boy,
he often visited his grandparents at the old homestead, and had
frequent talks with great uncles and great aunts, whose memories
ran back to the War of 12. The Writer has attempted to be as
objective as possible.
KKKKKKKKKK
(overt
2
CORNFIELD SCOTCH..Irish
From the time William Long bought a large tract of land,
at fifty cents an annnnn acre, from the estate of Lord Grar7ille,
on New Hope Creek, in Orange Co., in SVIDIg 17, down to the
surrender of General LEE, very few things had ruffled the current
of life on this farm. Births and deaths came —births more finneinn
frequently than deaths....and the land was sub -.divided with each
generation, but the pattern of life remained little changed.
The t:allow ..moulds that made candles in 1755 still made the same
kind of candles in 1865. The spinning wheel hummed and the
weaving shuttles shot back and forth for over a hundred years.
The Revolution left no mark on the family, although Gates and
Cornwallis and Greene all had their headquarters at one time another
A
at old Hillsboro, six miles awayiand Tarleton and Light -Horse
Harry Lee had chased one another over the red hills along the no.
My grandmother's father, living three miles away, had been beaten
up by Tories and left for dead, but nothing ever happened to the
Longs.
Some of the old people remembered that General Jackson used
cotton bales for breastworks at the battle of New Orleans, but
New Orleans was a long way from New Hope Creek, The Mexican War
came and went, Pottrihe only trace left on the family was a copy
of a campaign biography of Winfield Scot, which nobody ever read.
The War of 1861 was somewhat more disturbing, but my father was
the only member of the family that entered the Confederate army.
3
When the grandsons of William Long inherited their shares of
land, about 1830, the farms became smaller --about 200 acres each.
One grandson carried on farming with the help of one or two slaves
while he took up blacksmithing as a side line. My grandfather,
George, the oldest grandson, fell heir to the old homestead
with being
a log cabin nown by the spring. Not content imikmitsim a good farmer,
he ran a string of covered wagons down to Fayetteville, the head
of navigation on the Cape Fear, carrying down wheat and corn and pork
and bringing back heavy groceries for the merchants at Hillsboro
and Chapel Hill. He had 25 horses and bred his own stock,. As he
prospered he built a new house a large house of logs, weatherboarded4
Story and a half well built and still occupied by his descendants.
The kitchen was a detached log house, with a chimney built of sticks
daubed with mud.A smoke house stood near, and a small building
housed a handsome carriage with blue broadcloth upholstery, bought
during the reign of Andrew Jackson. In this carriage, behind a
handsome bay mare, the family drove to New Hope Presbyterian church
to hear a monthly sermon.
This church had been founded by n group of early settlers who
came down and tount !ands on New Hope Creek, a tributary of the
Cape Fear. In New York today people speak of the "shanty Irish"
and the "iace curtain Irish". These early pioneers in N.C. might
be called cornfield Scotch -Irish. But everybody knows that most of
the early settlers in the interior slept in log cabins and dug their
bread out of cornfields.
4
The older generation of Longs were This, and later were
opposed to Secession, but theylcared little for politics and
didn't always bother to vote. HeaSted political campaigns might
rage, but they ploughed their acres, raised sheep and horses,
and tranquilly watched suns rise and set. They made liquor on their
farms, but the record shows only one drunkard.They took religion
in their stride, but never got excited over it. They rarely attended
public gatherings of any sort not because they felt proud or
superior, but because they liked quiet, simplicity, and dignity.
They weren't neighborly in a folksy way, but people respected them.
They liked their work, and they liked to be at home, and to be let
alone. They never borrowed and they did not like to lend.
The pattern of life changed after 1665. My grandfather's four
sons and one daughter had grown up. His oldest son, xiobert,
the one with the weak heart, worked for a while in a store in
Chapel Hill and then bought a small farm in the neighborhood
of the old homestead. He married and in due time became the father
of two sons and four daughters. The father died in middle life.
The family scrambled along as best they could on the farm,
the girls working in the fields with the boys, and all going to
school in a log house two or three months in winter. Finally
the two boys, growing restless, went away to seek their fortunes,
one becoming a salesman in Tenn. and the other a policeman in
Danville,Va. The mother and daughters removed to Haw River, a
cotton factory town, after having lost the farm through
foreclosure of a mortgage. News from them after this was scant.
The mother died and the oldest daughter, a cripple, made a home for
her younger sisters, who worked in the cotton mill. One of these
bore an illegitimate child. This was the last news from them.
My Grandfather's second son, Thomas, my father, had been
captured by Kirks Union guerillas at Morganton,N.C., in 1864,
and taken to prison at Johnson Island in Lale Erie. He returned
undamaged, He took off his gray clothes, now much the worse for wear,
and put on a civilian suit he had left beaind hi* when he went
off to wars and promptly took his place behind the counter of his
store. Shortly before the war he had obtained a clerkship in the
largest general store in Chapel Hill. The owner shortly retired from
business and my gather and another young clerk bought out the
business. My grandmother loaned my father 41,000 to help him nay for
his share. He returned the money with full interest. She had saved
this money by twisting and turning through many years --by knitting
socks, selling eggs, and raising colts. She spoke of her labors as
'scuffling.' She also sent her two younger sons off to boarding
school for one term.
My grandmother was a remarkable woman. T remember her,
passed /0, sitting by the fire in lace cap, endlessly knitting.
She was of medium height, slender, straight, with very blue eyes,
a nose slightly curved, and a chin rounded and firm, but not hard.
She was the financial brains of the family. Not of the matriarchal
type, but everypne respected Iler judgment. her voice was gentle
and considerate, but quietly positive. She always knew her own mind.
6
Ny grandfather was, of course, an outdoor man.
he could read
him he was an
snow, sittin6
when he ran a
ay father
Massachusetts
I supoose
and write, but I never caught him at it. When I knew
old mau, crippled by exposure to wind and. rain and
in a earner by the fire, dreaming perhaps of the day
string of covered wons down to rayetteville.
married, in Chapel hill, a daughter of John White,
born, who came South totem long before 411mmm i&61
and married in Wake Co. My rather (ino plot,her r,ere the Parents of
six children, iive sons and. one clauLhter. All went to coileEe,
three of the
inning honors in writing and speaking, but. not in
scholarship. Tney were the first or the Long family ever to darken
the doors or a college. The oldest son became a colleL;e professor
and tauc:ht at Princeton University for an ears. He married, in
N.J. and has two HO'IE nd a Oauitter. His oldest son attended a L,00d
wilitarY school, but declined a college education. He Was a roker s
clerk in Wall St. before the Panic, and since then has had difficulty
in finding steady employment. He married early and impulsively,
has one child,and family connections have been obliged to give them
some financial help.He has worked at filling stations and on the
docks of a shipping concern in New York. The other son attended
Blair Academy In N.J. and was a first year law student at New York
University when the Depression cut his legal training short.He now
has a steady office job in a- factory in Conn. Married no children.
The only dau6hter, who was 6raduated from the art department of
Cooper Union,N.Y.City, is married to a well educated man who works
for a large shipbuilding concern at City Island,N.Y. They have
one child.
My father died at forty-five, leaving my mother six children
to bring up, the oldest being 16. He also left her a 600 -acre farm
and a good house and lot in town. She took in student boarders
to help educate her children. Her boys worked during vacations
in stores, libraries, and on newspapersv-at whatever they could get
to do. mymmum
My next brother, Thomas, became an indifferent lawyer and
died unmarried.The only lawyer in the history of the family.
Another brother, Vernon, bought the Winston SENTINEL with
borrowed money and edited it for a few years, a weekly paper
of four pages, but later sold it to advantage and entered the lumber
business in Florida. he made money in flush times, but later lost
it all and died a broken man. But ne had sent his five children
to collee. Three of his sons were officers in the field artillery
in the world War. One of' these sons died, leaing El wife and
four young, daughters with not much to go on.Two of his other sons
are livinb in Atlanta, one a successful imarithramarfanan insurance
man and the other a reporter on a daily nesPaner. The only daughter
married a New York man and died in childbirth in Lonoon.
lay next younger brother, Noyes, t.avelled a few years for
Spalding s athletic goods, but, falling a prey to melancholia,
jumped off a boat in Chesapeake Bay and was drowned.When Ma his
body was washed up, I buried it on a headland overlooking the Bay.
8
Since then his headland has been washed away by storms.
/1
My youngest brother, Ger, was a successful lumber man in Florida,
where he died of the flu in middle life, leaving a wife and three
children, but money enough for their support and for the education
of the children. The only daughter is married to W.W.Nealjr.,a
manufacturer of Iiarion,Isi.C. They have
one son. The two bons of my
brother are employed by a Du Pont company in Tenn. They declined
a college education, narried early, and have two children each.
hy only sister, Lillian, was married to Judge w.?.harding of
Charlotte and lived only a few years. She left one son, Milian K.,
who was graduated from the University of N.C. and has since been
connected with the Nike Power Co., near Charlotte, as an electrical
engineer. He is married and has two children.
My brand.fathers third son, John, was a diligent student in school
and later taught a country school. Then he bought a farm in Alamance
Co., married an intelligent and ener etic wife, and they
successfully
raised eight childen, all now living excent ore.Piostly boys. Later
Lay uncle sold his farm and removed to Iredell Cp.and engaged in the
mercantile business in a small town. The children attended the
local public school, which bore marks of the improvement in public
education whicn set in about lyWU, but none ever went to college.
The oldest son started life for himself by working as clerk
in the ticket office of a railroad. Becoming restless, he rode the
rods to tne middle west, becoming a. street car conductor in St.Louis,
and later a, minor executive in tne offices of the btandard Oil Co.
in Chicago. He has recently been retired on a pension, and he and
his wife drive their flivver to Florida ever winter. No children.
Uncle John s second son, Charles, a quiet bachelor, was a 7-
coilliaercial salesman for a time, and later settled dovn in the
insurance oubiness in iVewton,N.C. His business and his do u and ,un
c‘ive him a_Ll the excitement he craves.
The third son, Luther, also started in h railway ticket office,
and later uecne a station n„ent in a small town. Unsatisfied,
he or„anized an insurance business Eewton, and, by tireless enerby,
personality, and intelliuence, has built up a lar,e business and
is now enabled to retire from active affairs. A 6o-L6etter. He says
he received his education in the ColleGe of Hard Knocks. Generous
in his instincts, he likes to have his family connections under
his roof. He married an attractive woman, a Catholic,and has
oecome a member of her church. Their only child was struck uy
116htnine; and instantly killed while playin6 baseball a few years
aL,o. Lutaer s younuer brothers have had -111nor successes as country
merchants.
On my recent return to ay native state, after an abscence of
many years, I felt a stront; desire to 6o out to the old homestead
and look un sope./of :1y cousins and find out what had happened
durin6 all --teirc-mr=r-re. nany, Lany years had -w-,FEed since I had been
/I
the place. I recall d with pler=.sure
-St visitF. youncest
uncle, Jimmie, a. bachelor, and. his unmarried. sister, Aunt :7etty,
had never left the roof -tree and were takin3 care of the ol_d coupl_e.
I reiAeigered it as an unusually hn.rpy household. Plenty of the
,,00d thin. E to eat that a Lrowini.; ;Joy iovese- thin. s cooked over
the coals or a wood fire in the big firenlace. A bit of sly
tesinu trickled across thE taole. Talk about tverythinu WtIP
free i they treated 11.e as an adult and an equal. I was amused at
my grandmother's unconvtini,ional and sub -acid comments on neonle
told tilings thereabouts.
In the course of time tuj g:andparents slept with their fathers
at New Hope Church, honored oy all oraiLohb of t:.c family. My
Aunt Betty married a prosperous gentleman farmer, a widower in an
adjoining county, and died childless. Her husband used to say,fte
laughingly that as soon as he learned that To Lone (my father)
had an unmarried sister, he headed his horse in that direction.
Uncle Jimmie, left alone, took unto himself a wife, and in
course of time six daughters and one son were born to them,.
I remember hearing that the oldest, Mary, had married William Craig,
a widower, who lived on his farm three miles away that she had
died within a few years.
Uncle Jimmie lived to be 70 and then he too was taken to the
churchyard at New Hope, leaving a larbe family barely grown.
The third daughter, Mattie, became head of the family by force of
character and intelli ence. I'll let her tell the rest of this
story oecause she was an important Tart of it. But a few words of
explanation must be said first.
After the other children had made a start in life, with Mattie's
help and guidance, she, middle abed, was left alone at the old
homestead. Her brother-in-law, William Craig, was livin alone
11
with his only son. He proposed marriage to Mattie more than once.
After due consideration she decided to take the step. After all,
the Craig boy WRS her own nephew, and William was her distant cousin.
The Longs and the Craigs had intermarried sometimes in earlier days.
This marriage seemed fitting. And so it proved.
All ay life I have been subject to attacks of nostalgia.
Often, when far away, there has come into my ears the sound of
horses hoofs splashing through New Hope Creek my grandfather's
jood horses. So one day I drove out from Chapel Hill, going north
over the Hillsboro road, and then turning aside for a mile or so over
a country road, I drew up at MMXXXIMINNIMA Rattle's house.
I had not seen her since she was the slip of a girl. Nor had I ever
seen her house. It was about what I expected the kind of house
the second generation of rioneers built a hundred years ago.
A large log house, weatherboarded, with porch in front and shed in
the rear. Log stables and barn. Water from a well. No running water
in the house. Kerosene lamps instead of tallow candles. Everything
in the house clean and neat and comfortable. No cheap pictures or
gewgaws.
Rattle gave me a sedate but cordial welcome. She had a good deal
of our grandmother's poise and simple dignity. By way of breaking the
ice,I asked a little flippantly,
"How did you ever happen to get married?"
She laughed:
"There's no law against it. It has been done before. Even
you have done it."
12
Yes, I have been lucky.
"So have I. We are happy here. You know I am William's mkt*
third wife. He's the ancient marrier. He has been well broken in.
We go ctiong very comfortably. We raise enough to eat and a little to
sell.We have a garden and chickens and pigs. But It's a
scramble to get ready money for taxes and doctors'bills.
Taxes, taxes, taxes. When I had to go to the hospital in DurhaM,
it took most of our savings to pay the bill. If mother could have
gone to a hospital, her life might have been prolonged for
many years but there was no hospital nearer than Raleigh, and
father didn't have the money. He had 7 children to feed and
clothe. If we had seven children in this house, we couldn't
afford a hospital either."
"Do you get away from home ofteZsI asked.
"Not very. We have no auto, but jog about with the old
horse and buggy. We go to preaching once a month in good weather,
and sometimes we go to town to do a little shopping."
"And to go to the movies," I suggested
"Not at all. I've never seen a moving picture, but I
intehd to go sometime. The boy and some of his young friends
get together once in a while and bunch up in a truck --boys
and girls.. -and go into Hillsboro Saturday nights to see the
pictures. Some of the boys around here have bought second-hand
flivvers and they take their girls into the shows. When I was growine
up, father would never let us go any/1E4re at ni ht. The only
13
time we ever had a chance to see boys was at preaching on Sundays.
Not a very exciting life, you'll say, but we had a lot of :Nal
at home among ourselves. You know there were enough of us to keep
one another company. That the rising generatioftwill amount to,
I do not know but I reckon it will turn out about as well as
ours did, which is nothing to brag abo1441.i,
"Tell me about your father," I said."I remember him as very'
vigorous."
"Yes, he was a strong wan, but he worked himself to death
and grew old before his time. He tried to do everything. We
sirls worked in the cornfield during the very busy season,
and when my only brother, Tom, grew up, he was a help for a tine
but he married early and built a house on one corner of the farm.
Soon there were four or five children. He was drafted during
the World War, but died of flu before he received his uniform.
His wife and children scuffled along as best they could for a
few years, helped a little here and there by the kin, but finally
removed to a town where the older children could get work."
"What happened after your father died,"I asked.
"Well, it seemed up to we to take hold and do the best
I could. Two of çr old isLers had ilarried BteaCij going
farmers and seemed to be getting along fairly well. Tom was married
and gone. Four of us girls were therefore left alone at the old
homestead. We put in an imnroved breed of chickens, enlarging our
flock as time wept on, and did pretty well at it. We made a 6arden,
14
kept a cow, but most of the land we rented out. Two of my sisters
crew restless. I manabed to help one of them go to a business
scnool in Raleigh --and some of the cousins also helped her
and she got a position as a secretary. Another sister took a
hospital traininb and became a nurse. She was employed in and around
up there
New York for several years, and died itamakaimmagian recently.
My youngest sister married a farmer boy and they live at the old
homestead now in much the same way our grandparents lived
except that they do not spin and weave and they ride around in a
small truck. They still have the labor of brinbing water from the
bib spring down under the hill,but rural electrification is coming
our way now and soon a little pump will brink, us water. That will be
a mighty big help."
Tell me Mattie, did your father ever re ret remaini-w on
the farm?"
"No, I think not. I have heard him wonder at times --especially
when ready money was hard to get --if he would have been better off
in town behind a counter, but he always wound up by saying, he
was happier on the farm. But he felt his poverty in several ways.
For one thinb, he couldn*t give us children as good clothes
as some other children had. Sometimes there was only one pair of
good shoes for three of us older girls ;each one took her turn in
wearing them to church. He was also a little jealous of Charley
Johnston, Nho had inherited a 700 -acre farm and lived in a large
xnite house and had time to ride around and attend to church
and county affairs. He was of the same pioneer stock as ours,
15
but his family had not been so prolific and the sub -divisions of
land had been larger. Squire Johnston, as he was called, was made
an elder in the church at New Hope. Father was not and he felt it.
He also suspected that what the politicians called Wall Street
gamblers were responsible for the low prices of commodities
but I never could see much in that."
"How about you, Mattie? Would you like to move into town,
4 -where you could swap gossip with the neighbors over the back fence
and do to the movies every nidht?"
"Me? Not for me. I like the open country and I like to be let
alone. I like to see crops growing. You know we are corhfield
ScotchiaIrish. If I had half a dozen children to educate --and I an
dlad I haven't -..I midht be tempted to move to town to dive the
children better opportunities for schooling and work, but the
country schools now are nearly as good as the town schools.
Buses nick the children up and dive them a free ride to school.
In my day we slopped to school throubh the muds and our shoes were
sometimes thin. Yet people talk about the good old days. It's
my opinion the good old days are overpraised." And she laudhed imimmomM
tolerantly.
"Do you get any time for readinOr I asked.
"Yes, aloousin--you know his --sends me the READERSIDIGEST
and another cousin in Hillsboro sometimes brine me a bundle
o2 Durham newspapers. Yes, we know pretty well what is doing on in
the world. I sometimes think we'd be better off if we didn't know
quite so much.h
16
ItDo you ever vote?"
"Not often. When some good county an is /limning-- a an like
Sandy Grahan,say-,-we go to the polls and vote but I don't like
sknow
crowds, and I don t^ what it is all about anyhow.
When Mattie was married, my- wife and I sent her a clock as
a wedding present. She wrote back
"The little clock stands on the mantelpiece and ticks the
happy hours away."
SUMMARY
The older generations were farmers. The younger generation has
taken to business —merchandising, insurance, or lumbering.
Families have had fewer children and several have been traduated
from colle6es. None has ever stood in a bri6ht spot in the sun,
or accumulated a large fortune, and none has ever been accused
of crime, or been the inm:Ae of a oounty hoLie. No lunatics
(so far as the asylum records shod. No politicians or doctors or
preachers. One college professor. One lawyer (unsuccessful).
In church matters, the Longs have been Presbyterians,
Episcopalians, or,Methodists. The root stock is Presbyterian.
No reformers or crusaders. No Holyrollers. Most have been
members of a church in more or less good and regular standing,
but few have died in the odor of sanctity.
An average N.C. family. They have been industrious, as a rule,
have reproduced their kind,and have had a talent for attending to
their own business. They have helped to carry on the work of the
world.