1898- Mecklenburg Declaration of Independence Stories and Recollections

Charlotte Daily Observer 5/21/1898 p.10, 5/21/1898 p. 12 and 5/23/1898 p. 5

 

CAPTAIN JACK. 5/21/1898 p.10  

One of His Descendants Who  Expected to be Here To-Day, Relates Some Incidents in the Life of this Famous Character.  

To the Editor of the Observer:  

Scooba, Miss., May 7.—In 1730 my great great grandfather, Patrick Jack, with several brothers, emigrated to America from Ireland.  The commencement of the Revolutionary War found him a worthy and patriotic citizen of a little village called Charlotte, in Mecklenburg county, N. C., now the leading city of the State, and the fountain head of true American liberty and patriotism.  

 

Patrick Jack kept a public house of entertainment, where ardent spirits of town and county met to discuss political issues then exciting the minds of the people.

 On the 26th of September, 1780, Lord Cornwallis, elated with his victory at Camden, entered Charlotte with the confident hope of now restoring North Carolina to the British Crown.  Patrick Jack was then an old man; but neither age or infirmity could enlist sympathies of the British.  The patriotic character of the house had become known through Tory information, and its destruction was a “foregone conclusion.”  The soldiers removed its aged owner from a feather bed upon which he was lying, emptied its contents into the street, and then set fire to the house.  The reason assigned for this incendiary act was, “all of old Jack’s sons were in the Rebel Army, and he himself a promoter of American independence.”  His son, my great grandfather, Capt. James Jack, was at the convention of delegates in Charlotte on the 20th of May, 1775, as a spectator, and shared in the patriotic feeling of that memorable occasion.  He was then about my age, 45.  After the passage of the patriotic resolutions, for his well known energy, bravery and determination of character, he was selected to be the bearer of them to Congress, then in session at Philadelphia.  He made that long and perilous journey on horseback.  At that time there were no roads traveled by even stages, to facilitate and expedite the weary traveler.

 

Immediately upon his arrival in Philadelphia, he had an interview with the North Carolina delegates and delivered to them the Mecklenburg resolutions, and consulting other members, they decided that Mecklenburg county was in advance of the general sentiment of Congress on the subject of independence.  

Capt. James Jack finding the daring object of his long and toilsome journey could not then be accomplished, and that Congress was not prepared to vote on so bold a measure as absolute independence, just before leaving Philadelphia for home, somewhat excited, addressed the North Carolina delegates and several other members of Congress in the following patriotic words:  “Gentlemen, you may debate here about reconciliation and memorialize your king, but bear it in mind, Mecklenburg owes no allegiance to, and is separated from, the crown of Great Britain.”  

On the breaking out of the hostilities with the mother country, no portion of the Confederacy was more forward in fulfilling the pledge of “life, fortune and sacred honor,” in the achievement of liberty previously made than Mecklenburg and several adjacent counties.  Upon the first call for troops, Capt. Jack entered the service in command of a company, and acted in that capacity with distinguished bravery, throughout the war, under Cols. Polk, Alexander, et al.  He declined promotion when tendered, there being a strong reciprocal attachment between himself and his command.  At the commencement of the war he was in “easy” and rather affluent circumstances.  At its close, comparatively a poor man.  Prompted by patriotic feeling for the final prosperity of his country, still struggling for independence, he loaned to the State of North Carolina in her pecuniary need $20,000 for which he never received a cent in return.  

Capt. James Jack’s eldest son, Patrick Jack, my grandfather, was colonel of the Eighth Regiment U. S. Infantry, in the war of 1812, stationed at Savannah.  He sustained an elevated position in society, frequently represented Elbert county, Ga., in the State Senate.  He had three sons, my uncles, that fought in the battle of San Jocinto which sealed the independence of the “Lone Star” republic.  

My father, Capt. Abner M. Jack, was a planter by occupation and a man of wealth.  In 1861, although in feeble health, he raised a company in this (Kemper) county and led them to war to fight for what he and others deemed a just and right cause.  He stopped the planting of cotton during the war, and had grain raised and made bacon that soldiers’ widows, wives and children might get bread and meat from his barns and store houses without money and without price.   

I was too young to go with him to battle for Southern rights.  I have volunteered my services to my State should I be needed for fight for America’s honor and the freedom of the oppressed, in the war now going on.  God has blessed me with a happy home, the best wife in the world, and seven of the finest little Jacks in America, all without spot or blemish.  I hope to be with you on the 20th of this month.  I feel that I have a right to join you in your grand festivities on that occasion. 

Yours very truly,

GUY JACK.

 

 THE SURPRISE AT M’INTYRES. 5/21/1898 p. 12

 

INCIDENT OF REVOLUTIONARY DAYS.  

How Twelve Determined Men of Mecklenburg Put a Body of British Soldiers to Rout—An Affair Showing the Spirit of the Men and Women of That Time.  

By an M. D., in Graham’s Magazine (Phil.) 1844.  

I was busily engaged one summer’s morning in my garden, when I was saluted by an old-fashioned farmer, on his way to mill.  He rode a stout, well-limbed, active young horse, with the manner of one early accustomed to the saddle, and managed him, in his humors, with the tact and address of a man fond of a pet animal.  

The old man’s hat was low-crowned and slouched, but looked as if it had once been looped, or cocked up—a style which some may recollect as incidental to many revolutionary veterans.  

The weather invited a rest; we both seemed willing to enjoy shade and conversation; and by observations casually made—in which probably the old man’s appearance assisted—we talked of the times of the Revolution—he sitting on his horse (for, like many good talkers, he had no time to alight!) and I standing on the other side of my fence, in the garden, both of us shaded by some fine oaks which refreshed the road by which he was passing.  

In this way I picked up the following narrative of  

“THE SURPRISE AT M’INTIRE’S.”  

The inhabitants of a large plantation, on the road leading from the town of Charlotte to Beattie’s Ford, on the Catawba, were alarmed one morning in early autumn, by the report of a country lad, that a detachment of British light-horse with a line of empty baggage wagons were on their march, to procure forage for the English troops under the command of Lord Cornwallis, who had his headquarters in the county town of Mecklenburg, North Carolina.  

As the boy passed the farm house he gave the alarm and galloped on.  The women were soon seen straggling after him—some loaded with the rifles and accoutrements of the men who were at work in the fields—while others, assisted by the negroes, led forth horses from the stables, and hastily saddled them for service.  

The men were promptly armed, the women and children, with such necessaries as could be snatched up, were mounted by twos and threes upon the horses, and accompanied by the servants, directed their course through the woods to such neighbors as were most retired from the main road.  

Although the boy who gave the alarm had used every exertion, and mounted upon a jaded colt just taken from the plough, had dashed through the most direct by-paths, the men had scarcely time to conceal themselves in a deep thicket and swamp, which bordered one extremity of the plantation, before the British videttes were in sight.  They halted upon the brow of a hill, above the branch of a creek, for the approach of the main body, and then, in complete order, advanced to the plantation.  

After reconnoitering the premises, finding no one present, but all appearances of the hasty flight of the inhabitants, the dragoons dismounted, the horses were tethered, and a guard detailed.  Some Sumter horses were harnessed to the farm wagons, and parties began to load them with the various products of the fields; while military baggage wagons, under the charge of a rear guard, gradually arrived, and were employed in gathering the new corn, and carrying off stacks of oats and of the freshly pulled corn-fodder.  

It was the practice with our countrymen—led to the precaution by their early contests with the aborigines—to form associations with their near neighbors, for mutual support in case of danger, and in their visits of friendship, or business, they always bore arms.  There were twelve men now lying in close ambush on the edge of the plantation.  They had all acted on scouting parties—were expert in the use of the rifle—and perfectly acquainted with all the peculiarities of the country.  They were divided, at irregular distances, into couples, concealed very near to each other, that they might readily communicate, and have aid in their concerted action—for it had been agreed among them to await the retreat of the British, in the hope that they might recover some portion of their plundered crops, and avenge their injuries upon the invaders with the greatest prospect of success.  

It was with much restraint, however, that they saw the fruit of their industry thus suddenly withdrawn, while the soldiers, enjoying the prospect of free living, shouted joyously amidst their plunder.  Separate parties, regularly detailed, shot down and butchered the hogs and calves—hunted and caught the poultry of different descriptions, which, upon a large plantation, form the luxury of the farmer, and are the pride and favorites of the good wife and the little ones.  

In full view of this active scene stood the commander of the British force—a portly, florid, cheerful Englishman—one hand on each side of the doorway of the farm house, where the officers were enjoying abundant provisions prepared for the owners of the plantation and their friends.  

The soldiery, assisted by dogs, in eager chase of the poultry, had struck down some bee-hives formed of hollow gum logs ranged near the garden fence.  The irritable insects dashed after the men, and, at once, the scene became one of uproar, confusion, and lively excitement.  The officer laughed heartily at the gestures and outcries of the routed soldiers—the attention of the guard was drawn to this single point, while, at a distance, in the fields, the wagons were seen slowly approaching with their cumbrous loads.  

The owner of the plantation had cautiously approached, under cover, within gun-shot of his house; the rest of the party, his neighbors, with equal care, advanced sufficiently near for the action of their rifles.  The distress and anger of these men were raised to the highest pitch by the reckless merriment of their enemies, and, in the midst of the tumult, their feelings overcame all the bounds of preconcerted prudence.  

“Boys!” cried one of the sturdy farmers, “I can’t stand this—I take the captain.  Every one choose his man and look to yourselves.”  

These words were scarcely uttered in a suppressed tone, but with appropriate decision of action, when the sight of his rifle was thrown upon the full breast of the laughing Englishman, who suddenly fell prostrate from the door-posts.  

As the smoke from the rifles rose, after their sharp and quickly repeated reports, the commander, nine men and two horses lay dead or wounded upon the ground.  

The trumpets immediately sounded a recall.  But by the time the scattered dragoons had collected, mounted and formed, a straggling fire, from a different direction, into which the concealed scouts had extended, showed the unerring aim of each American marksman and increased the confusion of the surprise.  

Perfectly acquainted with every foot of the grounds, the Americans constantly changed their position, giving in their fire as they loaded, so that it appeared to the British they were surrounded by a large force.  

Every preparation for defence, attack, and retreat was made with the discipline of soldiers, but the alternate hilly and swampy grounds, and thickets with woods on both sides of the road leading to Charlotte, did not allow efficient action to the horses of the dragoons.  Some dismounted, others called out to “set on the hounds!” against a foe scarcely visible except from their deadly effects.  

The dogs, at first, seemed to take the track, and were followed by the soldiers.  

The foremost hound ran close upon the heels of one of the scouts, who had just discharged his rifle, and was in full retreat after his companion.  But as the dog closed with open mouth, he was shot dead with a pistol drawn from the rifleman’s breast.

 

The next hound stopped at the dead dog, smelt at the body, gave a whining howl, and the whole pack retreated from the contest.  

A large number of the dragoons were shot down.  The leading horses in the wagons were killed before they could ascend the hill.  The road was blocked up.  The soldiers in charge of the wagons cut loose some of the surviving animals and galloped after their retreating comrades.  

The country people early advised of the advance of the foraging party, mounted their horses, rifle in hand, from every direction; and occupying well protected positions along the main road, precipitated the retreat of the British into Charlotte—the survivors swearing, “there was not a bush on the road that did not conceal a rebel.”

 

 

 

AFTER THE HURLY-BURLY. 5/23/1898 p.5  

Left Over Facts After the Big Celebration of Friday.  

The high tide of patriotism which engulfed the city Friday has receded, leaving everything and everybody flat, stale and unprofitable.  Yesterday was a day of rest, after rush; quiet after noise; enjoyment of the has been.  

The universal opinion from those within and those without is that the celebration was a gigantic success.  The parade was pronounced by many the finest ever seen in the State.  The crowd could not be estimated.  The town was just simply full.  The Southern Railroad brought in 5,000 people on its special trains and the Seaboard nearly 2,000.

 

Besides these, hundreds of people came in on the regular trains.  The Buford and Central each fed 500 for dinner; other hotels and boarding places numbers in proportion.  

Col. Julian S. Carr left The Observer a stinging reminder of his and his company’s visit—the big hornets’ nest which they carried in the parade.  It was ornamented with silver hornets.  

The street cars handled between 15,000 and 16,000 people Friday.  

Everyone was complimenting the Gaston county Continentals Friday.  There were over 100 of them in all, handsomely uniformed.  Mr. Henry McAden; Col. Robert Abernathy and the other officers are to be congratulated upon their brilliant success.  

Mr. Heriot Clarkson deserves the thanks of the community for the manner in which he worked the Coninental Guards up.  He worked to good purpose.  

The Gold Hill Band from Fort Mill, S. C., assisted in the music on the 20th and did it well.  The band consists of ten pieces.