Tag Archives: Jim Comstock

Aracoma (Part 3)

03 Saturday Dec 2022

Posted by in American Revolutionary War, Guyandotte River, Logan, Man, Montgomery County, Native American History, Women's History

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Doris Miller (1903-1993), a longtime educator, historian, writer, and poet operating in the area of Huntington, West Virginia, composed this biography of Aracoma, a well-known Native American figure who lived in present-day Logan, West Virginia. This is Part 3 of her composition.

Aracoma has been described as an Indian maiden of exceptional grace and beauty. Perhaps the Virginians she impressed deeply in her dying hours may have believed she had great beauty in youth. Boling Baker is said to have had a fine physique and courageous bearing, which would have given his Indian captors reason for adopting him into the tribe. He is given credit for artful courtship of his love, and it seems likely he must have been skillful to win her away from other suitors the sachem’s daughter must have had.

The long history of their wedding, an elaborate ceremony her father accompanied them to the Guyandotte to perform, is less credible, but not impossible. More stress has been given to Aracoma’s royal estate than Indian customs warranted, but the English settlers had their own traditions of royal pomp and ceremony as patterns to draw from.

The carefree life credited to the Indians in the Guyandotte valley before 1776 reflects the wishful thinking of people whose own lives were filled with toil. Certainly the Indians must have lived stremuous lives, though they may have had an interlude of unusual peace and happiness before family life was saddened by the scourge which overtook them in 1776.

According to the story-tellers, Aracoma and Boling Baker had six children. Their names were Waulalisippi, or Laughing Waters, Snow Lily, Raindrop, Running Deer, Little Black Bear and Blue Feather.

It is said that Baker became despondent and bitter after the death of his children and during the hardships undergone by the colony after disease had reduced its strength. Doubtless the ones who added this detail had seen similar results in other men’s lives. They deduce that it was his desire to recoup the fortunes of the tribe that led him to attempt a bold exploit which resulted in disaster for his settlement.

Legendary history tells us that in the spring of 1780, a stranger appeared at a white settlement on Bluestone River, a man with a woe-begone countenance who recited sorrowful accounts of hardships he had undergone as a captive among the Indians in Ohio. He stayed for several days, familiarizing himself with everything about the settlement, then departed for the east (he said) in the hope of being reunited with his aged parents. The man was Boling Baker, who merely circled back to Flat Top Mountain, where he had left a band of his braves. On a dark rainy night in April, they stole quietly into the settlement and left with every horse there without disturbing a single sleeper.

The outraged settlers realized their recent visitor must have led the raid. Without horses to follow, they could only send for help from the mounted guard at Montgomery, seat of government for Montgomery County, Virginia, in which this entire area was then located. Colonel William Ingles, sheriff of the county, dispatched Colonel Madison and a deputy sheriff, John Breckenridge, with [p. 10] the party which massacred Aracoma’s village a few days later. Her paleface husband was one of the party absent on a hunt that day.

Little is known of Boling Baker after the death of Aracoma. It is said that for many a year afterward, men could read a couplet carved on beech trees in the area: ‘Boling Baker—his hand and knife, He can’t find a horse to save his life.’ Whether the words were carved by Baker or were a gibe directed at him by another, none can say.

The story is told that years later, an aged stranger came wandering up the Guyandotte River, asking questions of those he met. After standing a long time weeping on the mountainside opposite the island where Aracoma had lived, he went on past Horsepen Creek and eventually found lodging for a night in a home near Man. That night he told briefly some of the experiences of his life, which later were recognized to match the known story of Boling Baker. Next morning he was found dead in bed.

Source: West Virginia Women, Richwood, WV: Jim Comstock (1974), p. 10-11.

For more about Doris Miller, go here: https://mds.marshall.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1284&context=sc_finding_aids

Aracoma (Part 2)

14 Monday Nov 2022

Posted by in American Revolutionary War, Logan, Native American History, Women's History

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Doris Miller (1903-1993), a longtime educator, historian, writer, and poet operating in the area of Huntington, West Virginia, composed this biography of Aracoma, a well-known Native American figure who lived in present-day Logan, West Virginia. This is Part 2 of her composition.

The father whose death was mentioned by Aracoma was the noted Shawnee sachem, Cornstalk, leader at the Battle of Point Pleasant on October 10, 1774. After the treaty of Camp Charlotte was signed following that battle, Cornstalk appears to have been constant in keeping his promise to be a friend to the border Virginians. The American Revolution was then in progress, and Tory colonists strongly entrenched in Canada were using every influence they could bring to bear on the Indians to persuade them to harry western settlements of the colonies that were banded together in rebellion. In September, 1777, Cornstalk went to Fort Randolph, on the site of Point Pleasant, to warn the commander of the garrison, Colonel Arbuckle, of impending hostitlies from other Shawnees, incited by the British.

As a reward for his warning, Cornstalk was held with two companions as hostages. While Colonel Arbuckle waited for a messenger to reach the governor of Virginia and a reply to be received, two men from the fort crossed the Ohio to hunt venison and were waylaid by hostile Indians. One of the men was killed and scalped. Members of the garrison were so enraged that they killed Cornstalk and his companions in vengeance, defying officers who sought to restrain them from an act in violation of military ethics.

Aracoma’s husband was Boling (or Bowling) Baker, an English soldier who had come to America with General Braddock’s army. Though he had been called a deserter, he may have been captured by Indians lurking along the path of Braddock’s march or in the route which followed the English army’s disastrous engagement with the French and Indians on July 9, 1755.

Apparently Baker had been taken to Cornstalk’s town at Pickaway Plain, near Circleville, O., and had been made a member of the tribe. There he met the sachem’s young daughter and at some later time became her husband. Together they were leaders of the Indian settlement in present Logan County.

In addition to the town located on the island at Logan, the Indians apparently had a camping place on Horsepen Creek where the braves sometimes camped with whatever horses they might possess. The animals could be walled in here by steep mountain sides and with hickory withes wound from tree to tree. Still today Horsepen Creek and Horsepen Mountain bear the names first white settlers gave them for their connections with the earlier inhabitants.

At this time, land-hungry white settlers were pressing continually westward from eastern Virginia. it is said that scouting parties sent out after crops were gathered in the fall of 1779 found Indians encamped with a strong force on Horsepen Fork of Gilbert’s Creek and on Ben Creek and returned home to wait until after spring crops had been planted for another visit. Also, Indian depredations and the occasional massacre of a white settler’s family by stray bands of Indian hunters far from home kept the frontiersmen alert and distrustful of all Indians, however peaceful and friendly.

Tradition says that they Indians on the Guyandotte prospered until 1776, when their settlement was stricken by a great scourge. The pestilence may have been smallpox, measles, dysentery, or even some lighter disorder, for Indians have no immunity built up against diseases which beset the white men. Among the many who died were the children of Aracoma and Boling Baker.

As repeated countless times, the Aracoma legend varies in details. Some begin the story by telling of Boling Baker’s arrival as a captive in the Shawnee village. They say that Aracoma interceded with her father when the young Englishman was about to be made to run the gauntlet, just as Pocahontas protected John Smith. Though doubtless based on surmise, the story could be true, for captives who escaped from the Indian villages in Ohio told of having been forced to run the gauntlet. Some romanticists believe Baker’s love for the Indian maiden began with his gratitude that day, and that also could be true.

Source: West Virginia Women, Richwood, WV: Jim Comstock (1974), p. 7-9.

For more about Doris Miller, go here: https://mds.marshall.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1284&context=sc_finding_aids

Aracoma (Part 1)

11 Friday Nov 2022

Posted by in Huntington, Logan, Native American History, Women's History

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Doris Miller (1903-1993), a longtime educator, historian, writer, and poet operating in the area of Huntington, West Virginia, composed this biography of Aracoma, a well-known Native American figure who lived in present-day Logan, West Virginia. This is Part 1 of her composition.

West Virginians can lay claim to one of America’s most romantic legends, the story of Aracoma which has grown in Logan County around the meager authentic details of an incident in the history of the region which occurred some 200 years ago.

It is a legend of romance and tragedy about an Indian Princess who lies buried in the city of Logan. The story tells of her love for a white man taken captive by her tribe, of their happy life together as leaders of a settlement of her people on the Guyandotte River until tragedy wiped out their children and many others of their tribe, and of his depredations which led to her death.

Legends are stories built by folklore on a foundation of historic fact. Folklore is history preserved by tradition by people searching for the heroic. Such is the Logan County legend, a story of a courageous woman whose death brought her to the attention of ancestors of many of the people now living in Logan County, with details added by the romantic imaginations of residents of the region who have preserved and added to the legend.

Aracoma, an Indian word said to mean “corn blossom,” was the name given Colonel (later General) William Madison by a dying Indian woman who appeared to be the leader of a settlement of Indians located on the island where Logan High School now stands. She had been mortally wounded in combat between her people and a party of 90 Virginians led by Colonel Madison, in which all of the Indians were massacred except some braves strong and fast enough to escape when they saw the tide of battle had turned against them and a party of hunters absent when the Virginians made their surprise attack.

In later accounts, Aracoma was described as a woman of dignity and courage who appeared to be about 40 years old. The Virginians had been reared in a culture that still remembered the old chivalric tradition of reverence for women. They quickly forgot their animosity in concern for this woman of noble bearing, and treated their wounded captive with compassion and respect.

Tradition says that for several hours the woman resisted every effort to get her to talk. She lay with closed eyes, stoically awaiting her fate. Then, apparently realizing her life was ebbing away and there was no hope for recapture by her people she asked for their leader.

“My name is Aracoma and I am the last of a mighty line,” she told Colonel Madison. “My father was a great chief and friend of your people. He was murdered in cold blood by your people when he had come to them as a friend to give them warning. I am the wife of a paleface who came across the great waters to make war on our people, but came to us instead and was made one of us. Many moons since, a great plague carried off my children with a great number of my people and they lie buried just above the bend of the river. Bury me with them with my face toward the setting sun that I may see my people in their march toward the happy hunting grounds. For your kindness, I warn you to make haste in returning to your homes, for my people are still powerful and will return to avenge my death.”

It was told that the battle occurred in the afternoon of a spring day in 1780 and that Aracoma died before daybreak of the following morning. After burying her in the place and manner she had requested, the Virginians soon departed to return to their homes.

This story of Aracoma’s death differed but slightly in detail as it was repeated around countless firesides for a century before the late Henry Clay Ragland wrote it into the History of Logan County. It seems to be a reasonably accurate account, authenticated by certain details of historic record.

Source: West Virginia Women, Richwood, WV: Jim Comstock (1974), p. 6-7.

For more about Doris Miller, go here: https://mds.marshall.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1284&context=sc_finding_aids

Nancy E. Hatfield Memories, Part 4 (1974)

30 Saturday Oct 2021

Posted by in Big Sandy Valley, Hatfield-McCoy Feud, Logan, Matewan, Women's History

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Howard B. Lee, former Attorney General of West Virginia, provided this account of Nancy Hatfield (widow of Cap) in the early 1970s:

“Mrs. Hatfield, we have talked much about an era that is gone. Feuds are ended, railroads and paved highways have come, the huge coal industry has developed, churches and schools are everywhere, and people are educated. Now, I would like to know something about you.”

This is the brief life-story of the remarkable and unforgettable Nancy Elizabeth Hatfield, as she related it to me.

She was Nancy Elizabeth Smith, called “Nan” by her family and friends, born in Wayne County, West Virginia, September 10, 1866. (She died August 24, 1942). In her early years, she lived “close enough to the Ohio River,” she said, “to see the big boats that brought people and goods up from below.” She attended a country school three months out of the year, and acquired the rudiments of a common school education, plus a yearning for wider knowledge.

While she was still a young girl her parents moved by push-boat up the Big Sandy and Tug rivers into what is now Mingo County, then Logan County. They settled in the wilderness on Mate Creek, near the site of the present town of Matewan.

“Why they made that move,” said Nancy Elizabeth, “I have never understood.”

In her new environment, in the summer of 1880, when she was 14 years old, Nancy Elizabeth married Joseph M. Glenn, an enterprising young adventurer from Georgia, who had established a store in the mountains, and floated rafts of black walnut logs, and other timber, down the Tug and Big Sandy rivers to the lumber mills of Catlettsburg, Ky., and Portsmouth, Ohio.

Two years after their marriage Glenn was waylaid and murdered by a former business associate, named Bill Smith–no relation to Nancy Elizabeth. Smith escaped into the wilderness and was never apprehended. The 16-year-old widow was left with a three-weeks old infant son, who grew into manhood and for years, that son, the late Joseph M. Glenn, was a leading lawyer in the city of Logan.

On October 11, 1883, a year after her husband’s death, at the age of 17, Nancy Elizabeth married the 19-year-old Cap Hatfield, second son of Devil Anse.

“He was the best looking young man in the settlement,” she proudly told me.

But at that time Cap had little to recommend him, except his good looks. He was born Feb. 6, 1864, during the Civil War, and grew up in a wild and lawless wilderness, where people were torn and divided by political and sectional hatreds and family feuds–a rugged, mountain land, without roads, schools, or churches.

When he married, Cap could neither read nor write, but he possessed the qualities necessary for survival in that turbulent time and place–he was “quick on the draw, and a dead shot.”

“When we were married, Cap was not a very good risk as a husband,” said Nancy Elizabeth. “The feud had been going on for a year, and he was already its most deadly killer. Kentucky had set a price on his head. But we were young, he was handsome, and I was deeply in love with him. Besides, he was the best shot on the border, and I was confident that he could take care of himself–and he did.”

Nancy Elizabeth taught her handsome husband to read and write, and imparted to him the meager learning she had acquired in the country school in Wayne County. But, more important, the she instilled into him her own hunger for knowledge.

Cap had a brilliant mind, and he set about to improve it. He and Nancy Elizabeth bought and read many books on history and biography, and they also subscribed for and read a number of the leading magazines of their day. In time they built up a small library or good books, which they read and studied along with their children.

At the urging of Nancy Elizabeth, Cap decided to study law, and enrolled at the University Law School at Huntington, Tennessee. But six months later, a renewal of the feud brought him back to the mountains. He never returned to law school, but continued his legal studies at home, and was admitted to the bar in Wyoming and Mingo counties. However, he never practiced the profession.

Nancy Elizabeth and Cap raised seven of their nine children, and Nancy’ss eyes grew moist as she talked of the sacrifices she and Cap had made that their children might obtain the education fate had denied to their parents. But her face glowed with a mother’s pride as she said:

“All our children are reasonably well educated. Three are college graduates, and the others attended college from one to three years. But, above everything else, they are all good and useful citizens.”

As I left the home of the remarkable and unforgettable Nancy Hatfield, I knew that I had been in the presence of a queenly woman–a real “Mountain Queen.”

Source: West Virginia Women (Richwood, WV: Jim Comstock, 1974), p. 153-154.

Nancy E. Hatfield Memories, Part 2 (1974)

02 Saturday Jan 2021

Posted by in Big Sandy Valley, Civil War, Hatfield-McCoy Feud, Women's History

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Howard B. Lee, former Attorney General of West Virginia, provided this account of Nancy Hatfield (widow of Cap) in the early 1970s:

Our next stop was at the home of Nancy Elizabeth, the same home where I visited with her and Cap during my campaign. For nearly three hours I asked questions and listened to that remarkable woman recount many of her experiences as the wife of America’s most celebrated feudist.

Nancy Elizabeth’s home also held a number of guns, pistols, and other relics of the feud days. But the most interesting item was Cap’s bullet-proof, steel breastplate, designed to cover the entire front half of his body from his beck to his lower abdomen.

“Mrs. Hatfield,” I said, “judging from the three bullet marks on it, this breastplate was a great protection to Cap; but what was to prevent an enemy from shooting him in the back?” Her eyes flashed as she replied: “Mr. Lee, Cap Hatfield never turned his back on an enemy or a friend.”

“I have read two stories, Mrs. Hatfield, each purporting to give the true cause of the feud: One book stated that it was the result of a dispute between a McCoy and a Hatfield over the ownership of a hog. Another book said that it grew out of the seduction of a McCoy girl by Johnson Hatfield, oldest son of Devil Anse. Is either one of these stories true?”

“No, neither story is true,” she replied. “The McCoys lived on the Kentucky side of Tug River, and the Hatfields lived on the West Virginia side. Hogs don’t swim rivers. I never heard the girl story until I read it in a book, written long after the feud was over. Both stories are pure fiction.”

“The truth is,” she continued, “in the fall of 1882, in an election-day fight between Ellison Hatfield, a younger brother of Devil Anse, and three McCoy brothers, Ellison was shot and knifed. He died two days later. In retaliation, Devil Anse and his clan captured and shot the three McCoy brothers. It was these four senseless killings that started the feud.”

In answer to my inquiry, Nancy Elizabeth said: “Yes, there had been ‘bad blood’ between the two families since the Civil War. In that struggle the Hatfields were ‘rebels’,–loyal to their State, Virginia. Devil Anse organized and was the captain of a company of Confederate sympathizers called the ‘Logan Wildcats’. They were recruited for local defense; but they left the county long enough to take part in the battle of Scary, fought along the banks of the Kanawha River, a few miles below Charleston.

“The McCoys, and their mountain neighbors, were pro-Union; and to protect their region against invasion by ‘Virginia rebels’, they organized a military company called ‘Home Guards’. There were occasional border clashes between the two forces, with casualties on both sides. The war ended only seventeen years before the feud began, and the bitterness still existed in the minds of the older generation, and they passed it on to their children. It was the old sectional and political hatreds that sparked the fight between Ellison Hatfield and the McCoy brothers.”

Nancy Elizabeth declined to estimate the number killed on either side of the feud.

“It was a horrible nightmare to me,” she said. “Sometimes, for months, Cap never spent a night in our house. He and Devil Anse, with others, slept in the nearby woods to guard our homes against surprise attacks. At times, too, we women and our children slept in hidden shelters in the forests.

“But these assaults were not one-sided affairs. The Hatfields crossed the Tug and killed McCoys. It was a savage war of extermination, regardless of age or sex. Finally, to get our children to a safer locality, we Hatfields left Tug River, crossed the mountains, and settled here on Island Creek, a tributary of the Guyandotte River.

“No, there was no formal truce ending hostilities. After a decade or more of fighting and killing, both sides grew tired and quit. The McCoys stayed in Kentucky and the Hatfields kept to West Virginia. The feud was really over a long time before either side realized it.

“Yes, Kentucky offered a large reward for the capture of Devil Anse and Cap. The governor of West Virginia refused to extradite them because, said he, ‘their trials in Kentucky would be nothing more than legalized lynchings’. It was then that Kentucky’s governor offered the reward for their capture–‘dead or alive’. Three attempts were made by reward seekers to capture them.

“Dan Cunningham, a Charleston detective, with two Cincinnati detectives, made the first attempt. They came through Kentucky, and crossed Tug River in the night; but the Hatfields soon captured them. A justice of the peace sentenced them to 90 days in Logan County jail for disturbing hte peace. When released, they were told to follow the Guyandotte River to Huntington, a distance of 60 miles, and ‘not to come back’.

“Next, a man named Phillips led two raids from Kentucky into Hatfield territory. In the first, he captured ‘Cottontop’ Mounts, a relative and supporter of the Hatfields, and took him to Pikeville, Kentucky, where he was hanged. But the second foray met with disaster at the ‘Battle of the Grapevine’. Phillips, and some of his followers escaped into Kentucky, but some where buried where they fell.

“This was the last attempt of the reward seekers. However, Kentucky never withdrew the reward offer, and that is why Devil Anse and Cap were always alarmed and on the alert.”

Source: West Virginia Women (Richwood, WV: Jim Comstock, 1974), p. 151-152

Nancy E. Hatfield Memories, Part 1 (1974)

28 Monday Dec 2020

Posted by in Cemeteries, Hatfield-McCoy Feud, Logan, Women's History

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Howard B. Lee, former Attorney General of West Virginia, provided this account of Nancy Hatfield (widow of Cap) in the early 1970s:

HATFIELD WOMEN.

Over the years, much has been written about the male members of the Hatfield clan who took part in that early orgy of blood-letting–the Hatfield-McCoy feud. But nothing has been said concerning the indomitable wives of that stalwart breed of men.

My purpose is to pay a richly deserved tribute to one of those pioneer women–the late Nancy Elizabeth, wife of William Anderson Hatfield, common known “Cap,” second son of Devil Anse, and the most deadly killer of the feud.

More than 30 years have passed since I last talked with her; but I still regard Nancy Elizabeth Hatfield as the most remarkable and unforgettable woman of the mountains.

In the spring of 1924, I was a candidate in the primary election for the Republican nomination for attorney general, and I wanted the Hatfield influence. Devil Anse had died in 1921, and his mantle of leadership of the clan had fallen to his oldest living son, Cap–a power in Logan County politics.

I had met Cap, casually, in 1912, but I had not seen him since that meeting. But his sister, Mrs. Betty Caldwell, and her husband, lived in my county of Mercer, and were among my political supporters. To pave the way for my later meeting with Cap, I had Mrs. Caldwell write and ask him to support me.

Later, when campaigning in the City of Logan, I engaged a taxi to take me the few miles up Island Creek to Cap’s home. The car stopped suddenly and the driver pointed to a comfortable-looking farm house on the other side of the creek and said:

“That’s Cap’s home, and that’s Cap out there by the barn.”

I told him to return for me in two hours.

Cap saw me get out of the car, and, as I crossed the creek on an old-fashioned footlog. I saw him fold his arms across his chest and slip his right hand under his coat. Later, I noticed a large pistol holstered under his left arm. Even in that late day, Cap took no chances with strangers. When I got within speaking distance, I told him my name, and that I had come to solicit his support in my campaign for attorney general. He gave me a hearty handclasp, and said:

“My sister, Mrs. Caldwell, wrote us about you. But, let’s go to the house, my wife is the politician in our family.”

Cap was reluctant to commit himself “so early.” But Nancy Elizabeth thought otherwise. Finally, Cap agreed to support me; and, with that point settled, we visited until my taxi returned.

Meanwhile, with Cap’s approval, Nancy Elizabeth gave me the accompanying, heretofore unpublished photograph of the Devil Anse Clan. In 1963 I rephotographed it and sent a print to Willis Hatfield (number 22 in picture), only survivor of Devil Anse, who made the identification. Nancy Elizabeth is number 16, and the baby in her lap is her son, Robert Elliott, born April 29, 1897. Therefore, the photograph must have been made late in 1897, or early in 1898.

A few months after Cap’s death (August 22, 1930), the West Virginia newspaper publishers and editors held their annual convention in Logan. I was invited to address the group at a morning session. That same day, Sheriff Joe Hatfield and his brother, Tennis, younger brothers of Cap, gave an ox-roast dinner for the visiting newsmen and their guests. The picnic was held on a narrow strip of bottom land, on Island Creek, a half-mile below the old home of Devil Anse.

I ate lunch with Nancy Elizabeth and her sister-in-law, Betty Caldwell. After lunch, at the suggestion of Mrs. Caldwell, we three drove up the creek to the old home of her father–Devil Anse. It was a large, two-story, frame structure (since destroyed by fire, then occupied by Tennis Hatfield, youngest son of Devil Anse).

The most interesting feature in the old home was Devil Anse’s gun-room. Hanging along its walls were a dozen, or more, high-powered rifles, and a number of large caliber pistols, ranging from teh earliest to the latest models. “The older guns,” said Nancy Elizabeth, “were used in the feud.”

As we returned, we stopped at the family cemetery that clings uncertainly to the steep mountainside, overlooking the picnic grounds. There, among the mountains he loved and ruled, old Devil Anse found peace. A life-size statue of the old man, carved in Italy (from a photograph) of the finest Carrara marble, stands in majestic solitude above his grave. On its four-foot high granite base are carved the names of his wife and their thirteen children.

Source: West Virginia Women (Richwood, WV: Jim Comstock, 1974), p. 149-151

Overton Elkins

18 Wednesday Jan 2017

Posted by in Civil War, Fourteen

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From “Hardesty’s History of Lincoln County, West Virginia,” published by H.H. Hardesty, we find this entry for Overton Elkins, who resided at Fourteen Mile Creek in Lincoln County, West Virginia:

Is a son of Harvey and Elizabeth D. (May) Elkins, who were living here before the organization of Lincoln county. Overton Elkins was born in what was then Logan county, Virginia, December 20, 1831, and in Wayne county, March 31, 1853, by the Rev. D.K. Elkins, he was joined in marriage with Nancy Estep. She was born in Wayne county, December 25, 1838, and her parents were Corbin and Elizabeth (Davis) Estep. To Mr. and Mrs. Elkins ten children have been given: William F., born May 2, 1856; Pheribe E., May 1, 1858; Clarinda, March 18, 1860; Mary Jane, June 29, 1862; Luanna, May 30, 1864; Nancy E., March 18, 1866; Bethany C., March 9, 1868, died February 26, 1879; Emily, September 23, 1870; Erlery C., June 25, 1872; Susan R., August 10, 1877. Miles Elkins, brother of Overton, was in the late war, and served from the commencement until the close, and came home without a scar. Shadrack Estep, brother of Mrs. Elkins, served in the Confederate ranks in the war of 1861, and David J. and William O., also her brothers, were in the Federal army, 25th Virginia Regiment. William O. died soon after the close of the war from illness brought on during the service. Richard Elkins, grandfather of Overton, built the first cabin in Hart Creek district, (now) Lincoln county, about the year 1816, when Harvey, Overton’s father, was but fifteen years of age. Darby H., brother of Harvey, at the age of nine years killed a panther with a pocket knife and the assistance of his dogs. The animal measured nearly nine feet from the nose to the tip of the tail. Mr. Elkins’ mother was born January 10, 1800, and at the date of this writing (July 25, 1883) she can walk twenty miles a day. Overton Elkins is a farmer in Hart Creek district, owning 100 acres of land on Fourteen-mile creek of Guyandotte river, 30 acres under cultivation. His farm is rich and very productive, contains coal, some lead and fine building stone.

Source: The West Virginia Encyclopedia, Vol. 7 (Richwood, WV: Jim Comstock, 1974), p. 133.

The West Virginia Hillbilly (1995)

28 Saturday Nov 2015

Posted by in Ferrellsburg

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I worked on two separate projects with Jim Comstock, West Virginia’s most famous newspaper editor, in 1994-1995. Here’s a little excerpt from The West Virginia Hillbilly (11 May 1995).