James "Jim" Berry, the Last of the True Mountaineers (Part 2)

Last week we saw Jim Berry as an employee of the Pfister- Vogel Land Company that had purchased large tracts of mountain land. Jim Berry was hired as a security guard for the land company and had moved into the old Brewster house on Jack's Gap Road.

About this same time a rather crude telephone line was installed in the Choestoe-Town Creek community. A switch at Mr. Hayes Hunter's house near New Liberty Church could connect the community line to the forest service line. Jim Berry's telephone that kept him in touch with the Bald Mountain line could also, through the switch, be connected to the line to the Jesse Washington Souther house, also just off the Jack's Gap Road. In that house lived Varina (called "Tib") Souther. A romance began between Tib and Jim.

She was a daughter of Jesse Washington Souther (04/23/1836 - 09/12/1926) and Nancy Sullivan Souther (03/22/1858 08/12/1936), her father's second wife. Varina was the thirteenth of fifteen children of "Wash" Souther and the sixth of eight born to her mother, Nancy Sullivan Souther. This "second" family of Jesse Washington Souther had these children: Thomas Souther (1877-1937) who married Mary Lou Kay; Albert Galloway Souther (1879-?) who married Mae Pinkston; Lydia Souther (1881-?) who married Charlie Jones; Lina Souther (1883-1915); Benjamin Souther (1885) died in infancy; Varina Souther (1887- 1963) who married James Berry (1896- 1982) on August 13, 1913; Harvey Allen Souther (1889-1984) who married Fannie Collins (1895-1972); and Hardy Souther (1892, died in infancy).

Thanks to the "on line" switch that connected the Souther home telephone to the one the forest service maintained for Jim Berry, this couple could "court" by telephone.

With her full siblings and her half-siblings scattered, Varina Souther Berry took the responsibility of caring for her aging parents. She and her husband Jim Berry lived with them in the old Wash Souther house. One son, Glenn, was born to Varina and Jim, and they adopted a second son, J. T. Berry. Her father died in 1926 and her mother in 1936.

Varina "Tib" Souther Berry was nine years older than her husband, Jim. She died October 15, 1963, leaving Jim a widower. He continued to live on in the old Wash Souther house, with few conveniences. He graduated from a fireplace to a wood heater to heat his house and had a Roman Eagle wood cook stove in his kitchen. After his wife Varina died, he lived alone for almost nineteen more years in the old house.

Jim Berry was steeped in the knowledge of local geography and folklore. He could recount the names of all the mountains surrounding Georgia's highest peak, Brasstown Bald (also known as Enotah). He knew the names of valleys between the peaks, the creeks and rivers. A good marksman with a gun, he got his quota of deer each hunting season well into his seventh decade of life. In his later years, people beat a path to his door to hear his stories and listen to his wit and wisdom.

He learned to play the fiddle from his father. He tells about watching his father play, and then taking up the fiddle himself, finding that he, too, could make music from its strings. He and his brother began to play for and call square dances throughout the mountain region. He once told a visitor that if he had his father's old fiddle, he wouldn't take a thousand dollars for it.

In a finely woven basket hanging from Jim Berry's ceiling, he once kept the medicines he swore by. In individual paper bags were the herbs he gathered from the mountains to give him robust health into his eighties. Dried ginseng root he chewed during the winters with the firm belief that it "cured most anything." Then he had a bag of golden seal. This treasure from the wild cured anything ginseng didn't touch, Mr. Berry believed.

On a spring day, June 26, 1982, Jim Berry, true mountaineer, lay down his head and died. At 85 years, 10 months of age, he had packed a lot of living into his life. He was about the last of the true mountaineers who had a close affinity with the land and its topography, the forests and its inhabitants, and people who came seeking his stories.

c 2008 by Ethelene Dyer Jones; published September 25, 2008 in The Union Sentinel, Blairsville, GA. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

James "Jim" Berry, the Last of the True Mountaineers

Visit New Liberty Baptist Church Cemetery in Choestoe, stretched in front of a beautiful white country church house, with Enotah (Brasstown Bald) Mountain lifting its towering peak in the distance, and you find graves of many early settlers to that section of Union County. Today, we will focus on two graves bearing names, not of early settlers but the descendents of some of them.

These graves are of a husband and wife, James "Jim" Berry and Varina "Tib" Souther Berry. The dates tell us Jim lived from August 14, 1896 through June 26, 1982, and Tib lived from May 12, 1887 through October 15, 1963. Many who knew Jim Berry, and who wrote about him, like Charles Roscoe Collins and the roving reporter for The Atlanta Journal, Charles Salter, called him one of the last of the "true mountaineers."

Living in the old log house, somewhat updated from the time his wife Tib's grandfather built it in the mid-1800's, James was a widower from 1963 when his wife died until 1982, when he passed on at age 86. A philosopher of sorts, Jim Berry enjoyed company and was a great talker. His simple lifestyle was often an amazement to the many visitors who dropped by his house just off the Jack's Gap Road to hear him talk and to get his viewpoints on the issues of the day.

Jim Berry was not a Union County native. His wife, Varina, claimed that honor, but not Jim. His grandparents came from Old Gilmer County (a portion that later became Fannin) and from the mining town of Copperhill, Tennessee. Like settlers to that section, his forebears left North Carolina in a general migration and found land on which to carve out a new life in the mountains of North Georgia. The Berry Family moved from their Gilmer County home and got land along Fodder Creek in what became Towns County in 1856. There Jim Berry was born in 1896 to William Berry and Becky Shook Berry. Jim Berry had siblings William Berry, John Berry, Tina Berry McFall, and Martha Berry Chastain.

James Berry spent his childhood and early youth working on the family farm at Fodder Creek. He had little formal schooling because his father was an invalid. It was necessary for Jim Berry to work hard to try to make a living on the hardscrabble farm for his father, mother and siblings. They had cattle and hogs that ranged the mountains and, when rounded up and driven to market in Gainesville, provided a little extra income for the family.

When America got involved in World War I, James Berry served in the US Army. After basic training at Fort Gordon, he was selected to be in the unit that guarded German prisoners of war at Ft. Oglethorpe, Georgia. He remembered those two years of his life as hard. Guarding the prisoners took great vigilance and discipline. When the Armistice was signed in November, 1918, Jim Berry was one of the guards chosen to accompany the 550 German prisoners by train to Charleston, SC, where the captives were loaded on boats and returned to Germany.

Upon his honorable discharge from the army following World War I, James Berry returned to Fodder Creek in Towns County. He purchased 80 acres of mountain land, and there continued the same life of small patch farming in the bottoms along creeks as he had done growing up.

Then another opportunity came for this World War I veteran. The Pfister-Vogel Land Company of Milwaukee, Wisconsin had purchased thousands of acres of mountain land in Towns, Union, Lumpkin and White Counties. They needed workers. Jim Berry signed on, and because of his previous experience as a guard in World War II, he was assigned to the security detail of the company's work force.

Part of the land purchased by the Pfister-Vogel Land Company included the old Brewster holdings along the Jack's Gap Road leading toward Bald Mountain. An aside in the Jim Berry story lets us know that this tract of land had a history. It was sold to the land company by John Brewster. On that land, during the Civil War, Washington Brewster was killed near Jack's Gap by a roving band of Home Guard. The Brewster Place also had other families living there through time. Some were Jesse Spiva, Ben Spiva, Cornelius Spiva (who was killed in Germany during World War I, the first casualty of that war from Union County), Jim Harkins, Van Duckworth, and, finally, James Berry himself. Near the house was an old cemetery where Brookshires, Brewsters and Spivas were buried back in the era when family cemeteries were started near the old homeplace. The Land Company allowed James Berry, one of their important security guards, to live in the old Brewster house.

And that move, from Towns County to Union County, set the stage for the rest of citizen Jim Berry's life and times. Not only did he have work in the outdoors and woodlands he loved, but romance was on the horizon for James Berry. In the sequel to this story, we will learn about the life and times of Varina "Tib" Souther and James Berry. Stay tuned for the remainder of this delightful story.

c 2008 by Ethelene Dyer Jones; published September 18, 2008 in The Union Sentinel, Blairsville, GA. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Awful Anniversary: Remembering 9/11

"Where were you on the morning of September 11, 2001?" No doubt you have been asked that question many times since that awful and terrible day when America and the world were shattered by deliberate and targeted crashes of four hijacked commercial jet airliners.

In the seven years intervening, we have recalled with both alarm and disbelief that date of attack which brought terrible reality, not just threats to our safe and secure lifestyle.

We know the events happened. We saw television news coverage of the billowing smoke from crashes into the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center in New York. We saw the Towers topple, heard confused cries, saw the devastation, observed with disbelief that such could happen in America, the "land of the free and the home of the brave."

We heard reports that a third hijacked airliner crashed into a portion of the Pentagon in Washington, DC. Our worst fears surfaced. Had this center of America's military operations been rendered completely ineffective?

With the brave action of some passengers on the fourth hijacked airliner, its direction was thwarted from its intended target in Washington, DC and the crash occurred in a field in rural Somerset County, Pennsylvania near Shanksville.

There were no known survivors of the four jetliners. The 19 hijack- ers went to their deaths with a sense of accomplishment that they had done the deeds with martyrs' bravery and allegiance to their god. The passengers, no doubt, had boarded planes with confidence, with no thought that manipulations already in place would result in their untimely deaths that fateful day. Victims within the Twin Towers and others who died as a result of the travesties numbered over 3,000. Countless hours of rescue and recovery work resulted in airborne and contaminant afflictions that would follow victims the rest of their lives.

Nine/Eleven is an awful anniversary. Since that date in 2001, neither America nor the world has been the same as it was before.

We had rather not be reminded, but it is indelibly written in our history as a Day of Darkness and Doom.

To fight such an enemy as perpetrated these attacks on America on September 11, 2001 is a hard battle. Was Al-Qaeda behind it all—that dreaded terrorist regime that hides out in caves in the desert and plies its poison throughout the world? Were the enemies an army that could be confronted on a given battlefield and engaged in warfare which would eventually declare that the best side won?

Hardly so. But the battles began. And we are still in the midst of the war seven years later.

Immediately after 9/11, a surge of zeal and patriotism swept the United States. A turning again to the God of our nation was evident in songs, in messages, in websites, in patriotic gatherings, in churches, in town square meetings. America had rallied in the past to similar threats to her freedom. We could do so again. War was declared against the Taliban with forces deployed to Afghanistan and Iraq. Saddam Hussein was hunted and deposed, brought to trial and found guilty. The efforts to find and bring to justice the world-wide leader of terrorism continued. Osama bin Laden became the most wanted, the king of the terrorists, the person to find and depose at any cost.

America passed the USA Patriot Act, which was drafted by Representative Frank James Sensenbrenner on October 23, 2001, passed in the House on October 24, in the Senate on October 25, and signed into law by President Bush on October 21, 2001. The name of the act is an acronym standing for its major aims: "Uniting and Strengthening America by Providing Appropriate Tools Required to Intercept and Obstruct Terrorism Act of 2001 (USA PATRIOT Act).

Erection of memorials is under way in many places. Many, still in the building process, are geared to solemnly remind Americans of the fatal 9/11 invasion. The Freedom Tower in Manhattan, now being built, is to be one monument to the toll the day had on our sense of safety and freedom. At "Ground Zero" in New York City, pictures and memorials tell the story of the heartache that came on a bright sunny morning in September, 2001.

I'm sure you, as I, have read survivors' reports, accounts from persons who narrowly escaped with their lives, and lived to tell the story of fear and an about-face in their own lives. One such story is by Kyle Crager, who descended from the 71st floor of the World Trade Center and lived to tell the story. He described himself as having "a cushy office high over the streets of Manhattan, a view of the Statue of Liberty, a fast-track career." But all of that changed in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye.

Speaking at churches, schools, colleges and community events, Kyle Crager now quotes lines from the 17th century English poet, George Herbert: "Thou hast given me so much… Give me one thing more, a grateful heart." And one of his rallying cries uses words from C. S. Lewis, English apologist, minister and writer:

"God whispers to us in our pleasures,
Speaks to us in our conscience,
But shouts in our pain:
It is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.”

Anniversaries dredge up fearful memories at times, as is the case with 9/11. But the event can, as it did with Kyle Crager and others sharing survival, give one more thing: "a grateful heart."

c2 008 by Ethelene Dyer Jones; published Sept. 11, 2008 in The Union Sentinel, Blairsville, GA. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

More on the Berry Kin

Last week’s column centered on Dr. Thomas Newton Berry (1870-1927), country doctor, something of his practice in Union County, of his black Stetson hat that became a symbol of “passing the torch” from the elder Doctor Berry to his grandson, Claude Hempill III, who received the hat as a gift when the younger man entered medical school.

I wish I, like popular radio journalist, Paul Harvey, knew “the rest of the story.” There’s much yet to uncover, I’m sure, about Dr. Berry and subsequent generations.

In fact, one of the Berry descendants, William Robert Berry, better known as W.R., who is the great nephew of Dr. Thomas Newton Berry, called me to thank me for the article, and to fill me in on some of the other aspects of the Berry family, a staunch and hard-working early settlers family who lived almost astraddle of the district line in Choestoe and Owltown. W.E. reminded me that Dr. Thomas Newton Berry was one of those Choestoe people who, from humble beginnings, did well and served people. Doc Berry’s house in town, long a landmark on Mauney Street, has recently been removed.

Dr. Berry had a brother four years younger than he, William Jefferson Berry (9/27/1874-12/19/1936). This Berry ancestor was W.R. Berry’s grandfather.

Recall that Thomas Newton and William Jefferson Berry were sons of John Johnson Berry (1848-1921) and Caroline Swim (Swaim, Swain) Berry (1848-1923). And, to keep the family line in perspective, John Johnson Berry’s parents were Elias Berry (1812-1885) and Sarah Johnson Berry (1814-1901). This couple was in the 1840 census of Union County. Family tradition holds that they moved to Union County after the 1834 census was taken in Union, but before 1837. The couple obtained land in the Choestoe and Owltown Districts. Berry Springs on the land is named in tribute to them.

Elias was a notable farmer, but also plied his trades of blacksmith for the community, and was a cobbler, making shoes not only for his own family, but for others round about. Methodists by denominational persuasion, the Berry family were important in the early years of the Shady Grove Methodist Church, and when death came to members of this early Berry family, they were interred in the Shady Grove Cemetery.

William Jefferson Berry, Dr. Thomas Newton Berry’s brother, married Ila Jane Frady. I find a discrepancy in the date of marriage. The article about Jeff and Jane Berry in The Heritage of Union County lists this couple’s marriage date as November 14, 1894. The Union County marriage record gives the wedding date as April 14, 1895. Descendants might have a family Bible listing that could authenticate the marriage date. Their ceremony was performed by I.T. Wilson, Justice of the Peach. Ila Jane’s parents were John W. Frady and Sarah Lance Frady. But to fully appreciate Ila Jane’s mother, the reader needs to see her full name: Sarah Harriet Nancy Artillery Saphronia Martha Ann Lance Frady. It was almost as if she received seven names in order to honor a string of female ancestors, or else to make a statement about the little girl who would become the mother of Ila Jane Frady Berry.

Jeff and Jane Berry had thirteen children in all, and supported and educated them by farming and doing other self-sufficient tasks that persons in that era did to make ends meet and provide a living for a large family. The couple believed strongly in education and were determined that their children would get the best education they could provide them. It is interesting that Jeff and Jane often moved from their Choestoe home to Young Harris in the wintertime in order for their children to have better educational opportunities. The trip would be made by wagon before the era of family automobiles (or trucks—as it would have taken a roomy vehicle to move a large family).

With a family of thirteen children, their births were over a period of twenty-six years, from 1895 through 1921. Space and knowledge of the family precludes my going into details about each of the thirteen. Here are birth dates and spouses, if known:

(1) Forrest Carter Berry was born in 1895 and married Vernie Brown and Irene Hackney.
(2) William Cautus Berry was born in 1897 and married Lorena Crawford.
(3) Sarah LuVina Berry was born in 1899 and married Cap Kerby.
(4) Floyd McRae Berry was born in 1901 and married Louise McDonald.
(5) Ulma Mae Berry, born in 1903, died in 1923, never married.
(6) Dollie Madison Berry was born in 1905 and married Lester Davis.
(7) Theodore Roosevelt Berry was born in 1907 and married Los Murray.
(8) Charity Belle was born and died in 1909.
(9) Jessie Pelle was born in 1910 and married O.H. Fields.
(10) Blanche was born in 1913 and married John Mullis and Roy Osborne.
(11) Bessie was born in 1916 and died in 1918.
(12) Mary was born in 1918 and married B.B. Tucker.
(13) John Jefferson born in 1921 married Elizabeth ? and ?

The Berry gatherings were large as children, grandchildren and great grandchildren returned to the old Berry homeplace at Choestoe/Owltown. Descendants of Elias and Sarah Johnson Berry have grown up and made a difference in our world as homemakers, teachers, politicians, bankers, farmers, merchants, foresters, doctors. . . almost any occupation you want to name. They stood tall in these tall hills and beyond.

c 2008 by Ethelene Dyer Jones; published September 4, 2008 in The Union Sentinel, Blairsville, GA. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Dr. Thomas Newton Berry, Mountain Doctor

"If the hat fits, wear it!" might well have been the advice to young medical student Claude Hemphill III from his grandmother, Mrs. Stella Berry Hemphill, as she gave her grandson the black Stetson hat that belonged to his great grandfather, Dr. Thomas Newton Berry, when the younger man entered Emory University School of Medicine in 1986.

It is unlikely that Dr. Claude Hemphill III ever wore the old black Stetson, but it became a beloved symbol to him of the legacy left to him from his ancestor, Dr. Thomas Newton Berry. The younger doctor wrote about the old hat, and told about how it reminded him of his grandfather's service and compassion as a country doctor in Union County following the turn of the twentieth century. The essay by Hemphill won second place in the Emory University School of Medicine's 1990 Class. A copy came into my hands, and I began some avid research to seek to find out more about this doctor of the mountains and how he inspired a grandson to follow in his footsteps in medical studies and practice.

Who was Dr. Berry, and what was his life like as a country doctor?

Thomas Newton Berry (01/31/1870 - 12/11/1927) was the oldest of six children born to John Johnson Berry (1846- 10/12/1921) and Caroline Swim (Swaim, Swain) Berry (1848- 03/08/1923). This family lived in the Shady Grove section of Union County. Thomas Newton's father, John Johnson, was a son of early Union County settlers Elias Berry (1812-1885) and Sarah Johnson Berry (1814-1901). Thomas Newton's mother, Caroline, was a daughter of Enoch and Cynthia Griffis Swim (Swaim, Swain).

Besides Thomas Newton, their firstborn, John Johnson and Caroline Swain Berry had five other children: William Jefferson Berry who married Ila Jane Frady; Martha Lee Berry who married Festus Nelson; James Franklin Berry who married Nora Rich; Mary J. Berry who married Herschell Fields; and Sarah Alice Berry who married Sherman Brown.

Thomas Newton Berry may have been named for relatives, so far as this writer knows. But his father may also have read about the famed English archaeologist, Thomas Newton (1816-1864), who played an important part in discovering one of the seven wonders of the ancient world, the mausoleum of Halicarnassus. At any rate, Thomas Newton Berry early-on demonstrated an alert mind and a love for knowledge, much like the English scientist for whom he could have been named.

Thomas Newton Berry married Ora L. Reece, a granddaughter of Solomon Rich, Sr. by his daughter, Elizabeth Rich Reece (her husband's name currently unresearched).

To Thomas Newton and Ora were born five children: Bessie W. Berry (1894) who married Carl Rector; Fernando A. (called "Ferd", 1890) who married Myrtle Coker; Eula M. (1900) who married a McCall; Stella (1907) who married Claude Hemphill; and Christina (1904-1905).

Thomas Newton Berry enrolled in the Atlanta College of Physicians and Surgeons (this later grew into Emory University School of Medicine). He graduated in 1902. He returned to Blairsville to set up his general practice in medicine and served citizens from 1902 through 1927 when he contracted a form of cancer and could no longer continue his practice.

Dr. Berry looked smart in his black Stetson hat, his trademark, to distinguish him from other citizens who wore maybe coonskin caps or "rusher" (straw) hats. Dr. Berry rode astride a stately jet-black horse throughout the mountains to visit his patients. He was there for delivery of babies at $10 per birth. He treated all manner of disease, farm accidents, diphtheria, other contagious diseases, pneumonia. If the farmers had no money to pay the doctor, they would give him corn and grain to feed his horse, live chickens to bear back to Mrs. Ora, potatoes, apples, chestnuts in lieu of money. If they had none of these with which to pay, their bill was conveniently forgotten.

In 1917 when the plague of influenza was rampant, he made house calls with his medical bag, saddle bag and pockets full of medicines he had secured from a pharmacy in Atlanta. Even his most valiant efforts in combating the spread of the disease saw many people, young and old alike, succumb to the disease.

Not only did he make house calls, but patients came from outlying communities to see the doctor in his office in town. Oftentimes, Dr. Berry and his kindly wife, Ora, would give the patient a bed and board for the night at no extra charge, where they could more fully nurse them back to health.

Dr. Thomas Newton Berry died December 11, 1927 and was buried in the New Blairsville Cemetery. His beloved wife, Ora Reece Berry, died four months later on April 16, 1928. The Berry legacy is rich in good deeds and rich memories

Stella Berry Hemphill told her grandson, Claude Hemphill III, in 1986 when she gave him his grandfather's hat (according to the prize-winning essay): " I hope you appreciate it (the hat) and keep it in a special place."

Young Dr. Hemphill wrote of this legacy, and his own "calling"—like that of his grandfather to be a doctor—"I hope (as I start my medical education) to be able to use technological and scientific understanding to improve the treatment of many medical problems. I hope that I can make contributions in research, both basic science and clinical. Yet, I feel that all these things must be tempered with honesty and compassion in the treatment of patients. My great grandfather's hat doesn't fit too well now. As I go along, I plan to break it in and hope it will fit a little better as each year goes by."

c 2008 by Ethelene Dyer Jones; published August 28, 2008 in The Union Sentinel, Blairsville, GA. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Dr. Thomas Jackson Lance, President of Young Harris College, 1930-1942

Dr. Thomas Jackson "Jack" Lance (31 Jan 1886 - 27 Jan 1880)

President, Young Harris College, 1930-1942

Among great persons who have gone out from Union County and served mankind with dignity and unselfishness, we must applaud Dr. Thomas Jackson Lance, educator and humanitarian, who was president of Young Harris College during the difficult times of the Great Depression Years, 1930-1942.

Thomas Jackson Lance was the first of twenty children born to his father, James Washington Lance (1861-1940). Jim Lance, as his father was known, was a farmer at Wolf Creek, north of Vogel State Park in Choestoe District, Union County, Georgia. The mother of Thomas Jackson, better known as Jack, was Virginia Jane L. Henson (1863-1916). Jack, their firstborn, was born January 31, 1886. It is possible that the young boy had a memory of his grandfather, the Rev. John Lance (1834-1890), who was brutally murdered by moonshiners after returning from a preaching assignment. Jack's father, Jim Lance, spent much time and effort trying to bring the perpetrators of the crime to justice. That story has been adequately covered in Charles Hill's excellent book entitled Blood Mountain Covenant.

Since Jack Lance's family was so large, it seems somewhat of a miracle of the mountains that he was able to get an excellent education and become the shining light among educators that was his calling. After a long and useful life of 94 years, Dr. Thomas Jackson Lance died January 27, 1980. I was able to access the eulogy given at the time of his memorial service by the Rev. Edgar A. Padgett of the Calhoun, Georgia United Methodist Church. From this tribute I learned much about the man whose life was marked by selfless service to others.

Being from a large family, and the eldest of the children, early on Jack Lance learned to bear his weight around the farm on Wolf Creek. His full siblings, born to his mother, Jane, were Juan Bascomb (1888-1958), Lena Mabel (1891-1946), Sarah Theodosia, "Docia" (1894-?), Luther Edgar (1897- ?), Fannie Lee (1900-?), Carter Paul (1903-?), Homer E. (1906-?) and Mary Emma Louis (b/d 1908). Jack's father, when Jack's mother, Jane, died, married Melissa Spiva. Jack's half-siblings from this marriage were Elbert, James C. known as Jay, Auburn, Champ C., Bruce M., Charles F., Johnny W., Donald Ray, Grace Jane and Betty Jean (died as infants), and Bobby Gaynell. From his early life Jack Lance was taught the virtues of hard work, honesty, kindness, good manners, and a love for education.

After having learned what he could in the one-teacher schools of Choestoe, and at the knees of notable teachers and preachers there, Jack Lance went to Young Harris College for further education. The college took him in, giving him work on the farm to earn his way. He was an exceptionally gifted student. He graduated from Young Harris in 1908, with high honors.

From Young Harris, he continued his education at the University of Georgia where he earned both the Bachelor of Arts and Master of Arts degrees, and was inducted into Phi Beta Kappa National Scholastic Society. His doctor of philosophy degree came later, but the information of where he earned it is not presently available to this writer.

He wanted to teach. His career as an educator included classroom instruction at Hopewell High School, at Richmond Academy in Augusta, at Young Harris College, and then as an administrator for 13 years, serving as superintendent of schools in Waynesboro, Georgia.

His Alma Mater, Young Harris College, having already his record as a student and as a professor there, tapped him as president of the college. He served admirably in that capacity during some difficult years, beginning in 1930 and continuing through 1942. I wish the span of this short article could list all the hardships he faced in keeping the small mountain college above-board financially and operable during some of the darkest years of America's Great Depression. Suffice it to say that his hard work, faithfulness and industry during that span of his career saw him inducted into and honored by the Kappa Phi Kappa National Honor Society for Distinguished Educators.

Of that period of Dr. Jack Lance's career, the Rev. Edgar A. Padgett wrote: "He lived with deficits as his daily companion, but managed to keep Young Harris alive, serving the needs of so many who without it would have had little, if any, chance for a college education… Dr. Lance always found a way to help a deserving student stay in college. Many of our most distinguished citizens of Georgia have testified that they owe their start in life to Dr. Lance who inspired and encouraged them to keep trying, with the assurance of his help."

Thomas Jackson Lance married Annie Rose Erwin who graduated from Young Harris in 1913. To them were born four children: Thomas Jackson, Jr., Robert, Alice Rose, and Thomas Bertram, "Bert." Many will recognize the name of Bert Lance as a cabinet member during the time Jimmy Carter was president of the United States. From Young Harris, in 1942, the Lance family moved to Calhoun, GA and there the children were reared. He was superintendent of schools at Calhoun for two years, 1942- 1944, and then he began a sixteen year tenure with the State Department of Education in Atlanta as a state school supervisor, having as his goal improving the quality of education for every public school student in the state of Georgia.

It was said of Dr. Lance that he had a phenomenal memory, even into his later years. He never forgot a name, a face, a favor, a verse of Scripture, an experience. From his rich well of experience he could recall where he had met people and what they did.

He loved his family, his home, and the classroom. Although many years of his illustrious career were spent in school administration, his first love was teaching. It has been said of him that the "moments of illumination" when a student "sees" through a problem and has an epiphany of insight were, for him, thrilling and emotional experiences.

Considering the "opportunites" this country boy had to become "somebody," they were slender, indeed. But mountains were a challenge to him, and doing good was his second nature. "Lives of great men all remind us, /We can make our lives sublime,/ And, departing, leave behind us / Footprints on the sands of time." So wrote poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. So lived Educator Dr. Thomas Jackson Lance.

c 2008 by Ethelene Dyer Jones; published August 21, 2008 in The Union Sentinel, Blairsville, GA. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

A Light in the Window--Ros's Story

The late Charles Roscoe Collins of Choestoe in Union County, Georgia, about whom I have written recent articles, told me the following story. In fact, he wrote the story June 2, 1991, and hoped it would survive to give hope and encouragement to any who heard or read it. I give you Ros's story here, with some explanations and additions to give fuller meaning to the account he told of that long-ago time in 1926.

Charles Roscoe Collins was a student at the Blairsville Collegiate Institute. The year was 1926. The mountain school had been opened in 1904, sponsored by the Notla River Baptist Association. Later, the Home Mission Board of the Southern Baptist Convention also began support of the school, adding it as one of the Board's mountain schools. Students could board there and go to school, or else live in cabins or rooms in town, do their own cooking and laundry, and go to classes at the Collegiate Institute. To be able to go to this school was a privilege, indeed, as education beyond the seventh or eighth grade of one- and two-teacher country schools was about the extent of educational offerings then in Union County.

Mr. W. P. Lunsford, a man of deep piety and well-qualified as a school administrator and teacher, was headmaster at the Blairsville Collegiate Institute in 1926. Mr. Lunsford, wanting the students to have opportunities in drama, had cast a play with several boys and girls as actors. The play was well-received in its debut at the school when performed there. Mr. Lunsford got the idea that the drama should go "on the road."

In his recollections, Mr. Charles Roscoe Collins did not remember the title of the play, but he did remember the names of all the male characters. He said there were roles for the girls, too, and several of them starred in the play. The male actors were Joe Brackett, Tom Conley, Walter Hyatt, and Roscoe Collins.

With their hometown's hearty reception of the play fresh in their minds, the cast eagerly loaded into the two Model T-Fords that would transport the actors to the Lumpkin County High School in Dahlonega, Georgia where they were scheduled for a performance. One of the cars in which they traveled was Mr. Lunsford's Model-T. Another was rented from the Ford Dealership in town owned and operated by Mr. Pete Henson. This vehicle was to be driven by one of the students, Walter Hyatt, an actor in the drama.

The entourage arrived in Dahlonega on time and without incident. They performed the play to a responsive audience. By the time the play was over, it was night time, and snow had begun to fall.

The two cars loaded with the cast carefully made their way over the mountainous road from Dahlonega. As the Wyatt-driven, rented car, loaded with the male cast members, arrived at Cain Creek, the slippery condition of the road (and perhaps the inexperience of the student driver) caused the rented Model-T to go out of the road. Wyatt lost control and the car turned over. Fortunately, none of the riders or the driver were injured—just badly shaken up.

Mr. Lunsford and the girls were traveling behind the rented car. They stopped to lend aid to the overturned vehicle and the shaken-up passengers. They turned the car upright and got it back onto the road. The wreck took the top and windshield from the car. Mr. Lunsford went to town to get gas and oil, for the wreck had spilled those necessary items from the Model-T. They refilled the radiator with water from Cain Creek.

Mr. Lunsford told the boys it was their job to get the car back to Blairsville, and to be more careful. He proceeded ahead of them with his car loaded with the female cast members. The boys got to Quillian's Corner, but not without more car trouble. The motor would die, and with each incidence of the car stopping, one of the boys would take turns turning the crank in front of the car to get the motor going again.

They finally saw Neal Gap looming ahead. At the sharp curve south of the Gap, the car ran out of gasoline. Wyatt and the other boys thought it best to leave the car and walk the rest of the distance. Snow was building up on the ground. It was not an easy journey, climbing up the mountain, crossing it on foot at night, and starting the descent on the north side.

North of Vogel State Park, at Goose Creek, they saw ahead a welcome sight. A light in the window. It was coming from the home of Juan and Emma Lance Reece.

Tired from a long day before, the performance of the past evening, the misadventures of an automobile accident, and the walk over a rugged mountain at night, the four boys were exhausted. Dared they make their presence known to the Reece family and seek a little respite from their problems?

Emma Reece was cooking breakfast. Roscoe, who knew the Reece family, was appointed the one to knock on the Reece door and explain the boys' plight. Mr. Juan Reece answered the door, and invited the cold, tired cast inside.

By then Mrs. Emma Reece had come from the kitchen to welcome the unexpected guests. She assured them she could easily add to the Reece breakfast fare and would soon have them food that would squelch their hunger and last them until they got back to the dormitory at Blairsville Collegiate Institute.

Four boys sat down to a hot breakfast: hoecake bread made from flour milled from the Reece's home-grown wheat, fatback bacon fried to a crisp, thick sawmill gravy and scrambled eggs. "Four boys had never had a better breakfast," wrote Collins in his memoirs 65 years later.

At the time of the intrusion at the Reece family's breakfast, Byron Herbert Reece, who would grow up to be a noted poet, was nine years of age, a shy boy looking on as the ravenous high school lads ate the breakfast his mother prepared. His little sister, Jean, was about three at the time. Sister Eva Mae and brother T. J. were older.

In recalling the welcome of the Reece family, Roscoe Collins wrote, 65 years later: "There was the warmth of the open fire and shadows on the walls from the flickering oil-burning lamps. I am sure the mother and father gathered the children around these scenes and read from the Treasured Volume stories that helped to shape the life and thoughts of Byron Herbert Reece."

A collegiate institute, a drama to share, a rugged trip over mountains, and, finally, a light in the window welcoming weary travelers. Is it any wonder Charles Roscoe Collins remembered this story vividly 65 years after it happened?

c 2008 by Ethelene Dyer Jones; published August 14, 2008 in The Union Sentinel, Blairsville, GA. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.