The Turnbo Manuscripts
by Silas Claiborne Turnbo
1844-1925
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By S. C. Turnbo
Under date of September 16, 1907 Mr. John D. Row of Arlington Washington wrote the following account to the writer at Pontiac, Mo.
"In the year 1901 Mr. Thomas Rooks of Denver Boone County, Ark. told
me the following story:
‘My grandfather acted upon that wonderful advice that the late Horrace
Greely afterwards gave to the young men of his time. That is - go West,
young man, go West. He landed in Grundy County Mo. many years before the
bloody war between the North and South - here he raised up a large family.
As his boys grew up they got full benefit of the customs of the country.
One of the customs of those days was for the men to congregate at the country
village about once a month and see who could drink the most whiskey and
whip the largest number of men. Finally I come up on the stage of action.
As the customs were in those days, and about that time my father, who was
the bully of the country, got a letting down by a stranger who was on his
way from the East to some point still farther in the West. I suppose the
man never lived that never at some time met his master. Well he got a good
"licking", just like he had given to many others in the years
past, and he felt so much disgraced and humiliated that he told his wife
to gather up the children, and what other things she thought she might need,
and dump them into the wagon; he was going to Arkansas. This was in the
fall of 1835. He had two yoke of oxen to the wagon and they slowly wended
their way 400 miles across Missouri and reached Arkansas a short distance
north of where Omaha in Boone County now is and in due course of time they
arrived near the Boston Mountains. Here a small cabin was built and winter
quarters were established. The juicy meat of the fat wild turkey and the
fleet footed deer was plenty. The panther, the bear and the howling wolf
made life very interesting for my mother and we children. At the very first
opportunity after making our settlement on a fine tract of government timbered
land, my parents sent a letter back to my grandfather’s folks in North
Missouri telling how well they were pleased with the mountains of Arkansas,
and what a fine piece of land they had selected for their future home. As
the winter months slowly passed by the influence of the awful disgrace of
getting threshed that had fell on my father as head of the family in the
north country began to wear away. Mother become homesick, and when the grass
began to spring up in the early spring the whole family was again stowed
away in the wagon, the oxen were hitched up, and they were slowly making
their way back to Grundy County. The dim trail they traversed lead them
through the thicket of brush where Harrison now stands on the banks of the
beautiful Crooked Creek. One noon found them camped at a spring where the
Hank Bube farm now is just south of Omaha in North Boone County. When they
were preparing to resume their journey a huge old yellow timber rattle snake
come into the camp among the stock and we children. I saw it first, and
called out to my father to look out. My father had the big ox whip in his
hands, and he used it to very good effect on his snakeship. I remember that
the snake was six feet in length, and when the ‘cracker’ of the
long whip let up on his back and raised a welt, he began to strike and dart
in every direction. But there were plenty of stones and clubs lying round,
especially stones, and the vicious reptile was soon slain and the journey
was continued across the line into Missouri and in due course of time the
two yoke of oxen had drawn the wagon with its load to the old home in North
Missouri. I was five years old and when we arrived at grandfather’s
house I ran into the dwelling to see my grandparents for we had not heard
a word from them since we had left for Arkansas. It happened on that particular
day that my grandmother had driven the team to Trenton the county seat of
Grundy County and no one was at home except my grandfather. It was now 3
O’clock and grandmother would soon arrive at home, so a surprise was
arranged for her when she come, and when she got into the house she exclaimed,
"Oh. my husband, I have a letter, yes, I got a letter from Arkansas.
Our son has got a nice home there and is well satisfied and want us to move
down there too." Just then I come jumping out of the other room and
the rest of the family following and my dear old grandmother almost fainted
from surprise. Our uncle Sam had been from October until the following April
carrying a letter from the Boston Mountains in Arkansas to North Missouri,
but he has a rustle on himself now and can make the trip now in about three
days, or less instead of 6 months.
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