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Wednesday, September 24, 2003
I've Been Thinking, Historical Account of the Montgomery Area
by Narcissa Martin Boulware
Jim Taylor and Those Ethiopians
Jim was a black man, a kind, and quiet, soft-spoken, top-notch cowhand with wild, bad cattle. He was my father's prized helper with cattle on the open range and the man given the job of keeping us "Junior" cowhands safe and accounted for. We rode many a mile with Jim and asked him a million questions. When I'm sure the over-worked middle-aged man would have been glad to be rid of us.
He was a good family man, (he lived too far from our house for us to bother him at his home!), but he was always at home when he wasn't working, which could not be said of too many black men as we know them. He didn't drink, gamble away his money, and he and his wife always had plenty of food and clothes to wear, because of their frugal habits. Jim spoke many times of his disgust at the habits of his own race. He did not gather with others of his race except at church or celebrations. He talked about young able-bodied men who did not provide for their families and others who mistreated their wives. He stayed out of other people's business and tended to his own. He never used bad language in front of us, but sometimes when some of the tenants on the place, maybe a black family who lived close by Jim, he would tell us how bad he thought that person was and would call him the worst thing that Jim could say about another black man, "That Ethiopian!"
He told us one time why the black man could never equal the white man. He said the black people would never decide on a goal and stick together until they reached that goal. He said there could be two deep wells, the same, exact in every way, then put two blacks in one well, two whites in the other well. The two white men would look the situation over, figure out their moves and go to work. One white man would stand on the shoulders of the other get a good hand hold, then reach down and help the other man up on his shoulders so he could get a good hand hold, they would repeat this until they were out of the well. He said the black men would look the situation over and figure out some plan. But they would never get out of the well, because the first man to go and get a good hand hold would never try to get the second man up. He said they would never settle which man would go first, and they would never trust the other to reach back to help the lower man, because neither man wanted the other to get out first, believing that if a black man got a large portion of the world's goods that he had "stepped out" of his race and should be pulled back down with those who had nothing.
Both the black's and white's respected Jim. Jim and Ada raised two sons, Miller, a tall lanky young man who spent most of his life on a horse. He went to work for my father as a young man to help handle the horse and mule trading stock. There was lots of work involved in keeping all the trading animals looking and feeling good and tending to any injuries. Most of the time there were probably twenty-five head of mixed mules, mares or geldings. The mules and a few horses were work stock for farming; some were horses for riding needs. Miller's job was mostly connected to the riding horses, he had to test them as to how gentle they were, whether they were good cow horses, if a woman or child could ride them, how hard were they to catch, bridle and saddle, a shy on the road, biter or kicker. That meant Miller had to test these horses many times over a full day to give an account to my father as to how to fit the animal to a potential buyer. Miller also had the job of breaking the young horses my father raised for his own use. He was also the number one cowhand tending to the hundreds head of cattle scattered on every open range area of West Montgomery County, as well as the Eastern part of Grimes County. Miller worked for my father until my father's death in 1937 and a couple of years for the administrators of my father's will. My father's death was the end of an era, and Miller was quickly hired by Mr. Cashion, a prominent rancher in Plantersville.
Jim and Ada's second son, Maxie "Jabo" Taylor was not as tall as his brother Miller, and did not want to become a cowboy, he only wanted to be a farmer. He also worked at testing the trading stock work mule and horses and thus helped my father be an honest horse trader, something that was pretty rare. When my father died the farm and ranch operated that he had had carried on many years was over. The years after the Depression saw the end of farming and the tenant share crop plan ended. Jabo had married the very pretty daughter of Walter Worsham, a well-known prosperous farmer on Spring Branch Road. The couple settled on that road across from her father and raised a family. Jabo died way too young, leaving Annie Laura to raise the children alone. Annie Laura was a smart young woman, taking a leading part in all community affairs, becoming an authority in many community affairs. When a public problem arose County leaders called on Annie Laura for advice and guidance.
The Jim Taylor family were my friends since my toddler day, and Jim and Ada have descendants still on Spring Branch Road, showing some of their wonderful character. Be sure to follow in their footsteps, John Robert. |
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