Isaac Graves Graves house
ISAAC GRAVES FAMILY
Notes by Capt. Roy Hall.
With the demolition of the oldest house around soon to start, I have been thinking about some of the little stories Grandpa Hall used to tell me about his early days there, stories not for publication, but interesting bits that reflect the times “that were” in pioneer days.
At the time that young Steve Hall was living there, there was another young man, older than Steve, living and working there also, names Beecher Cameron. Beech, as he was called, fell madly in love with a Graves daughter, and she evidently did feel the same toward him. The “match” was frowned upon by her parents and she was not supposed to even talk to him, but young people always find a way. Steve acted as their go-between passing the notes they wrote to each other. I suppose he was sympathetic toward them since he was undergoing the same sort of situation in his romance with J. B. Wilmeth’s granddaughter. After the girl married Cameron, her parents built her a fine home to the west of their own and I presume, lived happily afterwards, as the fairy stories used to end.
Another little story he told me was one day while we were walking around Pecan Grove Cemetery and he was telling me things about different ones as we stopped to read inscriptions. He searched and searched for one special one he wanted me to see and we located it on the first street running south after entering the big gates, on a lot on the east side of the st. It was that of a Graves boy who was killed “defending his sister’s honor” a term much used back then he said. It seems that one of the Graves girls was alighting from her carriage on the square and a wind whipped her skirts a bit, exposing her ankle! One of the Bingham sons was standing nearby and turned to the fellow with him and remarked that “now there’s a well-turned ankle,” a shocking thing for a gentleman to say back then. Someone reported the incident to this Graves boy and he felt called upon to call Bingham out. I don’t remember exactly how it all came about but when the young men did encounter each other, Bingham got in the first shot and Graves was mortally wounded and soon died. Anyway, at the bottom of his gravestone, it said something like, Daddy tell mama I’m dying. That is not an exact quote but words to that effect.
A sad part of the above story, Eliza Graves was married to Capt. Bingham. Eliza was only four feet ten inches tall but was a strong character like most pioneer women. In the days when McKinney had 23 saloons around town Capt. Bingham often joined his friends there for a little evening of drinking. Mrs. Bingham had informants who would report to her when Capt. John had had enough and she would hitch up her little buggy and drive to the square, in a day when women did not even walk on the east side of the square. She would march into the salon (where women never ventured) take him by he arm and tell him it was time to go home. He towered far above her but when she came, he gallantly offered his arm and they left in true southern dignity. This tale is told in the Owl Club’s book, but I Had heard it from Grandpa before I read it there.
It is interesting how the little Graves diaries came to light. I helped take the 1960 Federal Census and then you took a long sheet of questions inside the home and sat down and filled it out as they gave you the information....
I went to a tiny little house on South Benge Street down near the park and upon entering found appalling conditions. A tiny little very old lady was lying on some quilts on the floor. She had been there for months with a broken hip. I do not know whether it had ever been set just did not heal. A woman relative named Corwin lived with her and took care of her but she too was very very old and bent and like the lady on the floor looked sick.
I went next door when I finished and asked about them and learned that the lady on the floor had a son who came at the first of the month and licked up their SS checks and brought back a few bags of food then did not return until the nest month.
Stopping work, I rushed home and called my doctor’s wife and told her the circumstances. She had known the lady when they were girls and the woman on the floor was a social belle in McKinney, one of the lovely Graves girls. She had married Tuck Hill’s brother, Armp, and lived a life of social prominence in the town until he died. Then her son took charge and ran through everything they had in a short time. When she became so impoverished and was living in almost shacks, she cut herself off from friends of earlier days and actually no one knew she was still here. But the older Mrs. Wysong got busy and when I knew she was in charge of the situation, I did not go back, for I knew she would get care. A proud woman, she did not let them move her out of the little house, and died in a few months. Our church took food in the day of her funeral and I met the son, a large good-looking man, but one who evidently never found his place in life. When he cleared out the house he called Maybelle Hilliard to come and see if she wanted any of mama’s things and that is when she brought back the diaries.
Every Memorial Day when I place flags on all the veterans graves I put one on this Aurie Hill’s grave and stop for a minute to think of their sad story.
Notes by Capt. Roy Hall.
With the demolition of the oldest house around soon to start, I have been thinking about some of the little stories Grandpa Hall used to tell me about his early days there, stories not for publication, but interesting bits that reflect the times “that were” in pioneer days.
At the time that young Steve Hall was living there, there was another young man, older than Steve, living and working there also, names Beecher Cameron. Beech, as he was called, fell madly in love with a Graves daughter, and she evidently did feel the same toward him. The “match” was frowned upon by her parents and she was not supposed to even talk to him, but young people always find a way. Steve acted as their go-between passing the notes they wrote to each other. I suppose he was sympathetic toward them since he was undergoing the same sort of situation in his romance with J. B. Wilmeth’s granddaughter. After the girl married Cameron, her parents built her a fine home to the west of their own and I presume, lived happily afterwards, as the fairy stories used to end.
Another little story he told me was one day while we were walking around Pecan Grove Cemetery and he was telling me things about different ones as we stopped to read inscriptions. He searched and searched for one special one he wanted me to see and we located it on the first street running south after entering the big gates, on a lot on the east side of the st. It was that of a Graves boy who was killed “defending his sister’s honor” a term much used back then he said. It seems that one of the Graves girls was alighting from her carriage on the square and a wind whipped her skirts a bit, exposing her ankle! One of the Bingham sons was standing nearby and turned to the fellow with him and remarked that “now there’s a well-turned ankle,” a shocking thing for a gentleman to say back then. Someone reported the incident to this Graves boy and he felt called upon to call Bingham out. I don’t remember exactly how it all came about but when the young men did encounter each other, Bingham got in the first shot and Graves was mortally wounded and soon died. Anyway, at the bottom of his gravestone, it said something like, Daddy tell mama I’m dying. That is not an exact quote but words to that effect.
A sad part of the above story, Eliza Graves was married to Capt. Bingham. Eliza was only four feet ten inches tall but was a strong character like most pioneer women. In the days when McKinney had 23 saloons around town Capt. Bingham often joined his friends there for a little evening of drinking. Mrs. Bingham had informants who would report to her when Capt. John had had enough and she would hitch up her little buggy and drive to the square, in a day when women did not even walk on the east side of the square. She would march into the salon (where women never ventured) take him by he arm and tell him it was time to go home. He towered far above her but when she came, he gallantly offered his arm and they left in true southern dignity. This tale is told in the Owl Club’s book, but I Had heard it from Grandpa before I read it there.
It is interesting how the little Graves diaries came to light. I helped take the 1960 Federal Census and then you took a long sheet of questions inside the home and sat down and filled it out as they gave you the information....
I went to a tiny little house on South Benge Street down near the park and upon entering found appalling conditions. A tiny little very old lady was lying on some quilts on the floor. She had been there for months with a broken hip. I do not know whether it had ever been set just did not heal. A woman relative named Corwin lived with her and took care of her but she too was very very old and bent and like the lady on the floor looked sick.
I went next door when I finished and asked about them and learned that the lady on the floor had a son who came at the first of the month and licked up their SS checks and brought back a few bags of food then did not return until the nest month.
Stopping work, I rushed home and called my doctor’s wife and told her the circumstances. She had known the lady when they were girls and the woman on the floor was a social belle in McKinney, one of the lovely Graves girls. She had married Tuck Hill’s brother, Armp, and lived a life of social prominence in the town until he died. Then her son took charge and ran through everything they had in a short time. When she became so impoverished and was living in almost shacks, she cut herself off from friends of earlier days and actually no one knew she was still here. But the older Mrs. Wysong got busy and when I knew she was in charge of the situation, I did not go back, for I knew she would get care. A proud woman, she did not let them move her out of the little house, and died in a few months. Our church took food in the day of her funeral and I met the son, a large good-looking man, but one who evidently never found his place in life. When he cleared out the house he called Maybelle Hilliard to come and see if she wanted any of mama’s things and that is when she brought back the diaries.
Every Memorial Day when I place flags on all the veterans graves I put one on this Aurie Hill’s grave and stop for a minute to think of their sad story.
