THE SAGA OF DAWSON BURGESS O'BANNON : AN 18TH-19TH CENTURY FATHER

 The Saga of Dawson Burgess O’Bannon

An 18th-19th Century Father:

By His Son

John Dawson O’Bannon

This authentic, 19th century Narrative was written by a son about his father.   It reaches us through the efforts of  Doug Young who shared it on Ancestry.  All rights are reserved to Mr. Young.  

 

In the interest of full disclosure, I am not an O’Bannon descendant, but three of Dawson O’Bannon’s children married siblings of my 2nd great grandparents (Nolen’s and Wise’s). The Nolen, Wise, O’Bannon, and Young Families were closely associated for at least three generations.  Further, my great grandmother Sarah Lindsey Heard was also related to the O'Bannon's through her Burgess, Dawson, and Chew ancestors.  The O'Bannon Family was closely allied with different branches of my family for over 200 years.

I am sharing this story and urging you to read it because it is a literary, historical, and cultural treasure.  You will be shocked, horrified, nauseated and/or angered by some of the scenes; some of the images will haunt you.

IT IS WORTH READING BECAUSE:

1. It will alter your perspective. 

2. It will give depth and complexity to people from other historical periods.

3. It will sharpen your awareness of the fallacies of PRESENTISM (link).

WHERE DO YOU GO FROM HERE?

You can skip the following Introduction to the Narrative, and Jump directly to the story as written by John Dawson O’Bannon, OR you can tackle my introduction to the Characters, period, place, and how the text is edited.  At the end I have included some maps illustrating the locations in the story.

            I have also included two accounts of the O'Bannon Family History.  The first is a newspaper account, and the second is based on Presley O'Bannon's genealogy.

  

INTRODUCTION OF THE CHARACTERS

Dawson Burgess O'Bannon Family before 1858

The Family photo above was taken prior to 1858 on the front porch of the O’Bannon home in Lisbon, Claiborne Parish, Louisiana.  The original was almost certainly a tintype, and represents very early photography (link).  The author and the subject of this narrative and most of the characters are in the photo, and we use this opportunity to introduce them.

In the center of the back row is the Patriarch, and subject of this narrative, Dawson Burgess O’Bannon.  Dawson was born on Feb. 4,  1780, in Fauquier County, Virginia.  He died at the age of 78, on June 2, 1858, in Lisbon, Claiborne Parish, Louisiana.  

Seated beside Dawson is his second wife, and mother of the three sons shown on the back row.  She is Martha “Patsy” Southern, born about 1800 in Greenville County, South Carolina and died after 1860 in Claiborne Parish, Louisiana.  Her mother was a Native American of the Creek Nation.  The three sons of Dawson and Patsy, seated and standing in the back row with their parents are: Dawson Burgess O’Bannon, Jr. (seated, born Jan. 22, 1832 in Pike County Mississippi, and died Dec. 7, 1873 in Caldwell, Texas); John Dawson O’Bannon (author of this narrative, born March 29, 1825 in Lawrence, Pike County Mississippi and died Nov. 23, 1871 in Avery, Red River County, Texas); and James R. O’Bannon (born April 18, 1835 in Lawrence, Pike County, Mississippi, and died Jan. 28, 1888 in Leesville, Vernon Parish, Louisiana. 

Seated in the front row are the four children of Dawson Burgess and his first wife, Frances “Frankie” Harris (born in 1782 in Fauquier, Virginia, and died in 1823 in Pike, Mississippi).  Frankie was orphaned at an early age, and raised by relatives and friends.  She may have been fostered by Dawson’s parents, William and Sarah.  From left to right the children are Bryant (or Bryan) Pickney O’Bannon (born Sept. 10, 1816 in Liberty, Amite County, Mississippi and died Aug. 5, 1890, in Claiborne, Louisiana); Malinda O’Bannon (born March 14, 1815 in Pike, Mississippi, Married William Harris Nolen in 1830, and died April 14, 1860 in Sharon, Claiborne, Louisiana); Mahannah O’Bannon (born Nov. 26, 1818 in Pike Mississippi, married Ambrose Wise in 1840, and died on Dec. 7, 1901 in Sharon, Claiborne, Louisiana); and William Harris O’Bannon (born April, 1820 in Amite, Mississippi).  There is a controversy over when and where William Harris died, with some saying he died Oct. 18, 1899, in Leesville, Vernon Parish, Louisiana, and others reporting his death in1864 in Texas.  

 

Family Tree of Dawson Burgess O'Bannon showing his Ancestors and Children
Malinda and Bryant married Nolen's (siblings of our Absolom Simeon Nolen) while Mahanah married a Wise (brother of Obedience Wise Nolen) Note also the names Chew and Burgess among his ancestors, these are Lindsey Family branches.

Dawson Burgess O’Bannon fought in the War of 1812, and with the possible exception of William Harris O’Bannon, his sons all served in the Army of the Confederacy during the Civil War.  After the Narrative, I include some additional biographical information on each of these Main Characters.  They are shown above on the Dawson’s Family Tree.

Mahanah O'Bannon and Ambrose Wise

One fact to note in this tree is the ages of the O’Bannon men at death.  While Dawson lived to be 78, his father Bryan (or Bryant) was only 43 at his death, and his grandfather William was 58.  The immigrant, great-grandfather, Bryan (or Bryant) Boru O’Bannon lived to be 79.  It is possible that both the grandfather and the great grandfather were born in Ireland and immigrated together.  However, other records show William as being born in the Carolinas.  In his discussions of his family history, John Dawson O’Bannon (the author) may be omitting a generation or combining the histories of two of his forefathers.

Bryant Pinkney O'Bannon and Nancy G. Nolen

 

One critical character in the Narrative is not shown in the photo or on the family tree.  Old Bertie who plays a critical role in the inception and telling of John’s story has an ambiguous relationship to the family.  The narrative indicates that her status is above that of a slave, but not that of a full family member.  The narrative clearly suggests, but does not state explicitly, that Bertie is an illegitimate daughter of Dawson’s father, Bryan (or Bryant) O’Bannon or of his grandfather William Boru O’Bannon. Thus, Bertie could have been Dawson’s older half sister or his aunt.  Bertie clearly treats Dawson like her “child” and John like a “grandchild.”  What is never clear in the narrative is Bertie’s racial status. Is she white or black or mulatto?  I find no clear evidence in the text.  In the critical scene, her presumed father asks her if she is the child of “his Judy,”  however, it is never clear whether the possessive pronoun indicates a lover or a slave or both.

Brief Timeline for Reference

Between 1755 & 1765 Old Bertie is born in Fauquier, Virginia

1780 Dawson Burgess O’Bannon, subject of the biography is born in Fauquier, Virginia

1785 By this date, young Dawson is living in Surry County, (and later in Samson County) North Carolina

1812-1814 Dawson serves in the Military (War of 1812) which takes him south to Mississippi.

1814-1815 Dawson marrieds Frances “Frankie” Harris in Mississippi, where all their children are born:

dau. Born 1815; son Born 1816; dau. Born 1818; son Born 1820 

1823 Frankie dies in Pike, Mississippi

1823 Dawson marries Martha Patsy Southern in Mississippi where all their children are born.

1825 John Dawson O’Bannon, the author, is born in Lawrence, Pike, Mississippi

1840 Family is Residence in Pike, Mississippi

1850 Family is Residence in Ward 7, Claiborne, Louisiana

1857 John Dawson is living in Graysport, Yalobusha County, Mississippi

1858 Dawson Burgess  O’Bannon dies in Lisbon, Claiborne Parish, La.

1858 John Dawson is living in Rapids Parish, Louisiana, where his son James Dawson is born.

1859 or 1860 Bertie dies in Mississippi

1860 John Dawson is a resident of Alexandria, Rapides Parish, Louisiana.  

In this year a son is born and dies, and his Mother dies.

1860-1864 John Dawson is in the Confederate Army

1864 John Dawson and others of family move from Louisiana to Texas

1864 Sister Angelina dies in Texas

1867 John’s daughter Frances Jane is born in Avery, Red River County, Texas.

1871 John Dawson O’Bannon writes this narrative, and then dies in Avery, Texas.

LOCATION OF EVENTS

Maps showing the locations mentioned in the text are included at the end of the narrative for reference.

Notes on my Editing:

In my editing of the narrative shared by Doug Young, I have had two goals:

1. To allow a modern reader to easily understand the author’s intended meaning. 

2.  To maintain the character and “color” of the 19th century author’s narrative.

With respect to word choice and grammar:

I have retained the word choice and grammatical structures of the author as passed to us by Mr. Young.  John Burgess is a brilliant writer, creating characters and scenes we can relate to and will remember.  I don’t want to ruin his creation.

With respect to punctuation:

I have used my own punctuation; attempting to make the text clearer and easier to read and understand by adding punctuation and paragraph breaks.  This seems justified since the original punctuation has already been changed in previous versions.

With respect to spelling:

I have compromised on spelling.  In many cases, I have retained the author’s spelling (as in “familey” for “family” or “latter” for “later” and “flie” for “fly”); but in others I have corrected misspellings to make reading easier.  In a few cases as with the word “kourse” used by the author for both “coarse” and “course,” I have corrected the author’s spelling for better comprehension.  John has problems with double letters, sometimes adding and sometimes deleting.  “Prety” for “pretty” is one example and “latter” for “later” is another.  Homophones also created difficulties, as with “course” and “coarse” and “steel” and “steal.”   

Finally, “spell check” has a mind of its own, and sometimes corrects a spelling I intended to leave as John wrote it.  

Other Edits:

In a few places I inserted notes in color intended to help guide the reader.  I hope these are not intrusive.

Dawson Burgess O’Bannon

By

John O’Bannon

1872

Some years ago, right after my father passed on to his rest, (1858) old Bertie said how we should come together and set down what was known of his familey and such.  Well at the time I don’t believe any of us gave much thought to it, one way or the other, just to be honest about it.  I now (1871) see it in a different light, and will do the best I can in telling about what I know.

I guess I can start with Bertie, seeing as how I said her name first.  None of us know for sure how old she was, but she was grown when our father was born, (1780) and was there when he came.  Some of the familey claims it was the Old Irish Baru (Boru) himself that caused her to come and be born (sired her) as it was.  That would put her on the far side of the 100 yr. mark.

I asked our father about that once, and he said that he figured there might be something to all of that.  He said that it was for a fact that others like Bertie (Mulatto or illegitimate or both?) had come from that one, and not having the name (illegitimate).  

It’s carried down that he (Boru) was the first of our line to come over, and was high Irish.  

Bertie claimed that our father was borned (born) in the same house as the first one (Boru) passed away in.  Said she was about ten or there about when he went, and said that it was the flux (diarrhea) that took him.  

Bertie used to suffer from brain fever — would talk with angels and all such as that (epilepsy).  From time to time she would go into hard fits and foam at the mouth just like an animal.  When that happened it would take several people to hold her down so someone could put a stick in her mouth — as to keep her from hurting herself.

Our father used to say that she was gifted with second sight, and the fits just sort of went along with the gift.  When she was younger she never stayed put for long, always coming or going from one place to another.  She always had fresh news to pass along and would help with the cooking wherever she might put up.  As age came to her she slowed down on a lot of that business.  

After we buried our father — we held a prayer meet.  When it was over she struck out with some folks that was headed for Miss. (Mississippi).   That was the last any of us ever saw of her.  A few weeks latter word came to us from Pike Co. that old witch Bertie had gone on.

What she said before leaving that last time bothers me to this day.  She told us all, “Children you never knew your father.  You stayed under his roof and you eat from his table but you never really knew him — never knew him for the great man he was — and that’s the shame of it.”  

Well maybe if old Bertie is looking down on us, she will see that I’m trying to put things right.  So as my father used to say, “I think I’ll have a go at it.”

My father’ name was Dawson Burgess O’Bannon.  He was born in 1780 at the old private place up on the run in Virginia.  I believe its fair to say he was named for some of his mother’s people and she was called Ruthie and his father in turn answered to Brient (Bryant).  I can’t be held fast at this but it seems he was first born coming in front of his brothers and sisters.  His father passed on about the time he was coming into full manhood (1790 when Dawson was 10 years old).  His mother stayed on in Georgia with some of the rest (her other children) when he came into Miss.

Not to be talking big (bragging) but I’ll say this — I don’t believe he knew what fear was, least ways, not for his ownself.  If he did, he never let on.  On the other hand I suppose a lot of folks was scared of him.  He was a large man and had a hoarse, rough sounding voice.  I’ll come true and say it — he did a fair share of killing, but never for pay.  He prided hisself in that fact.  Well now, he did some soldiering and took pay, but that was in time of war (War of 1812).   

To show the cut of man he was, I’ll touch on something I saw with my own eyes.  I was just a yearling and not much bigger than an ear of corn but I’ll never forget it.  We was all in town one day to pick up a few things when the trouble started.  

Somehow the old man had come to have words with a couple of the locals.  Mind you he was well past being a young-buck.  They plowed into him with weapons.  One used an ax handle and the other had a knife.  He didn’t back off, so he took their measure as best he could.  They hurt him pretty bad.  He scrambled around and got hold of an old hatchet and he went to work on them.  

The law was going to come down on him for doing the killing of them, but not much come of it.  I believe a fellow stepped up and told how it all got started; so they let it go.  

He come near dying from that go around.  He was bleeding from head to foot.  We finally got a doctor to look after him.  He sewed him up, and bound up his ribs and such.  We gave him laudanum and took him home in the wagon.

All through the night we looked after him and prayed.  Our mother just kept on crying and called him an old fool.  Come morning he was still with us.  In time, he came to his own self again. That’s how he was, awful strong-headed like that.  He used to say, “Always stand your ground, and bow your head to no one but the Lord.”  

I’ll set down these words that best tells how he was:  honest; fearless; hard working; coarse; sort of bashful; strong-headed; cold and hard on the outside; a dab on the religious side; greenish, mean eyes with a far away look to them; short on patience.  He was all of this, and a lot more.  

His great sadness came to him a spell before I happened along.   We never talked about it when he was around.  We sort of figured it wasn’t needed.  My Mother was the second choice woman that he took to be his wife.  There was another before her.  The first one come to be the mother of some of us, but not me and the rest.  Bertie told us about it once, but told us to hold fast to our lips in front of our father lest he start hurting all over again from it.

The name of his first choice was Frankee.  She was a daughter to Bill Harris as best that I recall and her mother’s name I believe was Ida but I can’t be certain on that score.  I think it was Bill used to oversee a bunch of niggers on a cotton farm.  That seemed to be his line of work.  One day he just fell dead In the middle of a field.

I suppose his wife got along as best she could after that, but in time she went too.  After that it seems Frankee was passed from place to place to whoever could do for her.  In time, my father came to take her for his wife.  

I believe he set her up pretty high, so as Bertie told it.  She was a frail little thing, an never did eat much.  Bertie used to fret after her a lot, thinking her to be touched with a sickness.  

She set about to have children from the first.  She took sick after a few years (after 8 years).  Something she eat didn’t set well with her.  She was bad all night, and when it came sunup she left them.  Our father took her up on high ground and buried her deep and covered over the grave with heavy rocks.  Bertie said that was the first and last time she ever saw him shed a tear.  She said he held his fist up to the Lord and screamed, “You took my Frankee away from me, Damn you.”  Then he fell down on his knees and cried.

I suppose he carried all that hurt locked up inside of hisself for the rest of his life.  Just once I overheard him say to my mother, “Puss, you’re a fine woman but I’ll always love my Frankee.”  She just hung her head and said, “I know that.”  

That’s about all I can set down on that score.  I believe its fair to say there was a good understanding between them and they were happy.

My folks was poor, but we had a good upbringing.  My father would say, “Money could carry a person far in this life, but it won’t buy spit in the next one.”

Both my folks were hardworking people.  They believed in it.  Now there was plenty of us to pitch in and lend a hand, and it was a hard go, but we made out pretty good most times.  A few times when things got lean our father would set about to do odd jobs for other folks.  He was pretty good at smithing and a fair wheelrite as well.  He would cut wood, plow and such as that.  Anything that was honest.  Some times he would come home after a hard day’s work and tell mother, “Put it on the table, Puss.  I’m going to eat up hell, and drink the Jordan dry.”

He, at times, was awful coarse, but his intent was good.  Just as to show what I mean, one day he was down in the bottoms clearing away some stumps, and he sent me to bring some drinking water for everyone.  When I got back with the bucket of water he said that I should take to bathing a little better as he could smell me coming all the way back.  

Well, I swelled up and told him not to talk to me in such a way, seeing as how I was coming into my manhood and all.  So he stood there and bored holes thru me with them eyes of his; then walks up and lays me flat on the ground with the back of his hand.  I’ve never before or since been struck such a terrible blow.  He just looked down at me there, shaking his head. Then he walked off.  None of us saw him for the rest of the day.

My mother had set a fine table for all of us.  There was yams, boiled peanuts, onions, pone, coffee — all his favorites.  We was all setting there waiting for him to come as to supper but he didn’t.  Finally we went ahead without him; said our evening prayers and took to bed.

During the night I come to be awake; it being so hot and all.  So I stepped out on the front porch hoping as to catch a cool breeze.  He was sitting there smoking his pipe and drinking a cup of coffee.  Right off the mark, we set about to talk.  He never said he was sorry.  I could waite till the cows come home and not hear that, and I knew it.  But we set things right between ourselves.  Well we stayed there like that, and talked till sunup.  Until we lost him, I never felt closer to him than I did that night.

One day we was all seting about to go to services.  A new preacher had come thru and we were pretty excited.  Our father went all out on himself.  He owned only one good set of cloths.  It was made up of a nice pair of doeskin trousers, a white silk shirt, a beaver hat, a red sash to go around his waist, a pair of new planters’ boots.   And did he  ever look grand.  I never saw a more striking cut of a man than he looked then.

Oh, did he ever strut around the house like he was a barn cock.  Yes he did.  He even put on the ring that Bertie gave him once.  It was the only piece of jewelry that he ever owned.  It was made of silver and had a piece of polished agate set to it.  It once belonged to the first of our line, so it’s said; but how Bertie came by it isn’t clear.  Anyways, our father wouldn’t take anything for it.  

Mother looked real prideful at him and said how nice he looked.  He just reached out and slapped her on the rump.  She acted all swelled up over it, but it was just acting she was doing.  Those were happy times for all of us.  

I’d like to touch on some pretty hard stories that best stand out in my mind.  I believe that in doing the telling of them, a purpose might come to be served.  

At one time our father used to keep a fearsome cur around our place.  He had raised him from a whelp and trained him hisself.  He used to tell us, “Stay away from Star.  He’s not a pet.”

Well one day he caught some niggers stealing from his Mellon patch, so he set about to put his cur after them.  Sure as to be, he downed one and took to making meat out of him.  About the time our father came running up and killed the nigger with a kick to his throat.  After that he set about to cut off his head and fixed it on the end of a long pole to stand in the Mellon patch.

Mother and one of my sisters came to be real fearful of this and asked him to take it down.  Well he carried the body off and buried it, but the head stayed on the pole.  He said it would keep others from coming and trying to steal our mellons.  

As it came to be, the niggers were runaways and their owner tried to get our father to pay for the one he killed.  He told the fellow to get off his place or he’d put his head on the pole too.  Well he left and we never saw him again.

Once when we all set ourselves as to supper, a large flie came to lite in the gravy bowl.  All of us just watched it scramble around trying to get free but it couldn’t.  Well, I don’t believe any of us wanted to touch that gravy after such a thing as that.  We  just sat there looking at each other and then at our father.  He reached in and got it out, then he put it in his mouth.  He told us, “If I can eat the flie you can eat the the gravy.  The Lord frowns on them that turn away from good food.”

Well one of my sisters jumps up and tells him that he’s just a dirty old pig for doing such a thing as eating the flie.  He just looked at her and said, “Sweetheart, it’s all we have to eat tonight.  Now set yourself to it or take yourself to bed.”

At this time she broke to crying and run out on the porch.  He told mother to go see after her, but to be gentle.  After some time went by, mother and Hudy came back and we all set about to eat.  Not one drop of that gravy went to waste.  

Another time he came home and said he wanted to talk to all of us.  Seems he caught one of our neighbor’s boys down on a creekbed playing spike with himself.  Said he wanted to warn us all of the the evils that come from such as that.  Well, he went on to say as to how none of us was to have any doings with people who used their hands on themself in such unnatural ways.  Then he set about to talk on them two cities come to ruin (Sodom and Gomorrah) and all such as that.

Well, at the time I thought that was awful damn coarse of him to be talking about such things in front of us all, such as it was — and I told him so.  He bore down on me with that stare of his and said, “Son, its not just for men and boys alone to know about good and evil.”

That’s the way he was most times, coarse and strong-headed.  I set down these hard stories as to best show his powers of reasoning — how he looked at and dealt with life and everyday happenings.  

He never took to read or write. Now that I look back on it all, I’ve come to see that in his own way, he was a man of deep strength, understanding and wisdom.  

He wore a great long beard.  Sometimes we used to make light of him for it.  He would just smile and tell us as to how he was borned (born) with it.  He would say that it was sort of like old Samson’s hair, and that if he shaved it off, it would sap away his manhood.  Then we would take to laugh together.

Course we all knew the true reason for it.  Before even the first of us came along, a musket ball passed thru his jaw and came out the other side.  This happened when he was doing his soldiering.  The beard covered over the marks that was left on him from that terrible fight (and probably caused his hoarse voice).  

He didn’t have much time for any of us; always busy trying to keep food on the table.  Most times he stayed after it from daylight till dark six days a wk. and 7 if it was called for.  Sometimes when some of us would try to help he’d say, “Children go play now.”

We thought he was just trying to get rid of us, but that wasn’t it at all.  He believed that every child should have time to run and play a little.  

What I set down now comes hard for me, but as to stay true on the course of things, I will. He used to tell us, “Whatever you do don’t hold back.” So I won’t.  I’ll touch on now as to how it come to be when all of us lost him forever.  

Most of us was grown and married when it happened.  He’d been sick about a wk.  We just figured it was his age, as he was getting old.  He said something in his belly burned like a hot piece of steel.  

On the evening of the last day, he took to bed.  By dark he was bad so mother sent one of us to get Bertie and to pass the word to everyone to come that could make it.  

He come to have fever and sweated a lot.  He talked about stuff that made no reason to us, and then he’d come to be his own self again.  He did this way several times.  Once when he was his own self he told us, “Come morning I’ll be gone, but I’m hoping as to someday we can all be together again.”

Well, as to that a couple of the women broke to crying and had to be helped from the room.  We gave him a bite-stick so as he would not have to scream from pain.  Some of the folks lashed him to his bed as to keep him from thrashing about.  Old Bertie got down on her knees to hold his head and she put her mouth to his ear.  She just kept on saying, “Yes, precsus — Yes, precsus. Bertie’s here, darling.”  Somehow down in the deep of hisself he must have heard her.  He seemed to become eased when she talked to him, so we didn’t try to stop her.  

Some time latter he came as to struggle, trying to break his bonds.  He was passing blood from his mouth and nose.  Bertie was trying to calm him and telling us to leave as we was not to see what was coming.

Most of us left the room and the door was closed behind us.  After this, I guess most of us broke to crying.  I just couldn’t help myself and I’m not ashamed to say it.

Before long they came out of the room.  Bertie told us that our precious father had crossed over to be with the Lord.  She said that they was going to clean him up and such, then we could come in to be with him for the rest of the night.

Some folks brought in food and coffee.  They were awful good to us.  Later Bertie said we could all come in.  He was laying there as to be asleep.  Bertie had put his old bible in his hand, and him never knowing how to read.  Some folks used to laugh behind his back for him carrying it around and not knowing to read.

Someone said something about shaving off his beard before putting him in the ground.  Bertie said she’d cast a hard spell on them that dared such a thing.  Well after her making such a fuss no one said much more about it.  I’m sort of glad they let it go at that.  Somehow that didn’t seem proper anyway.  

Some people wanted to build a fine coffen for him.  They didn’t charge for it; said it was just something they wanted to do for him.  I supposed they must have known him.

________________________

He didn’t live to see “the great white nigger” (Lincoln) come to be president, and I supposed its just as well.  It’s been 14 years (it was now 1871) since our father’s been gone.  Since then there’s been War and more deaths in our family.  What’s left of us is scattered all about. 

I have come to bring mine and others of our’s to good country (Red River County, Texas).  The trip was hard on the women and children.  Some killing had to be done, so I did it.  I killed 3 on the Sulpher (River); 2 with my pepper gun and the other one with my knife.  Boyd killed 2 at the Springs with his gun.  Kelly got shot in the foot and took to be with fever, so we cut off his foot.  Trash was everywhere trying to steal out food and such, and defile our women. So we did the killing of them.  

We’ve come to set down in good country and make a new start.  I have come as to be a father and have my own family.  My own children will never know my father, but they can know about him from what I have set down.

————————————

I know nothing of my mother’s people.  I believe they were killed when she was a babe, and she was seen after by her father’s brother and his family.  On my father’s side, all I know is what him and Bertie would mention from time to time.  I don’t recall ever seeing any of his brothers or sisters to often.  I believe his sisters were named “Margo” and “Reba” but I can’t be held fast on that.  His brothers were “William,” “John,” and “Brient.”  I believe there were six of them counting my father.  

I never saw any of my grandparents on either side.  Well, now I’ll have to back off a bit on that.  I did see grandmother Ruthie, but just once and I was just a sprout then.  All I remember is an old woman wearing a bonnet and tobacco dripping off her chin.  She gathered me in with her arms and gave me a hug and a kiss.  That’s all I remember on that score.  Most of my father’s people lived over in Georgia and that didn’t allow for much visiting and such.  

Now, for the ones ahead of them already mentioned, I don’t know an awful lot.  Bertie told us once about that first one to come over.  She told about him like this: “awful tall and broad of shoulder but on the frail side with large hands and feet.”  Said he wore his hair long, way down past his shoulders and how it and his skin was the same color as cows’ milk as to go along with blue eyes.  

Well she set off to tell about when he scared her so bad.  She was working in the garden with some others, and a man came to take her to the front porch of that big house, so she had to go.  Said the man with her told her as to get down on her knees and not to talk first.  So she heeded.

She told us to how others was standing behind that one in the chair, and they were his people.  Said she was so scared as not to be able to talk.  His teeth were rotten and the nails on his hands were long and crooked and he was old.

He just stared at her and then he asked her if she was the child of his Judy.  Bertie said her voice box just would not come to work, so the one standing by her kicked her hard.

Said, at this the old one in the chair screamed at the one who did the kicking of her and caused him to be whipped with a cat of nine.      She came to get candy and toys and was set about on her way.

Old Bertie was given to talking big, but we always liked her stories when we were little and was she ever full of them.  “Yes she was.”

I have set down all this for my family, and their people not yet to come to be borned — if they are strong with the blood of my father.  I have done my best to put things right and to stay true of purpose.

AMEN

John Dawson O’Bannon died in Nov. of 1871, not many months after he completed this story.  He was 46, and the father of four living children.  He is buried in Avery, Texas.  His last living son, Joseph Henry O’Bannon died in 1941 in Boswell, OK., at the age of 78.

Map of O'Bannon Family Travels