THANKSGIVING by Ellen M. Ferris

Happy Holidays to everyone! Please enjoy a reflective Thanksgiving poem written by Ellen M. Ferris (1843-1876), daughter of Charles Drake Ferris (1812-1850) and niece of Warren Angus Ferris (1810-1873). This poem was published in a Buffalo, New York newspaper (date unknown). Ms. Ferris clipped this and over a 1000 published poems which she admired (including her own) and placed them in her commonplace book collection. The poetry can be found in the Ferris/Lovejoy collection of family papers at Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah.

THANKSGIVING

 By Ellen M. Ferris

Through sombre aisles and vaulted roof

    The organ-tones are swelling,

Their grand and solemn harmonies

    Of some high service telling;

And now in murmurs soft and low,

    And now in cadence thrilling,

With under-tones of melody

    The singers’ voices filling.

“All glory be to God on high”-

    So chant the choral voices-

“In whom we live and breathe and move,

     In whom the world rejoices;

Who sends the sunshine and the rain,

    With food for all the living;

To Him our grateful hearts we raise

    With praises and thanksgiving.”

A mother to the chancel rail

    Her little child is leading,

With rich thank-offerings to God,

    Who heard her anguished pleading.

But while for mercies great and strange

    Her costly tribute paying,

Forgets the mercies day by day

    Upon her path arraying.

For each day is a miracle

    Of blessing and forgiving;

God’s tender pity, like the sky,

    Enfoldeth all the living.

We take the gifts His bounty sends

    Ungrateful and cold-hearted,

Without a thought of love or praise,

    Till from us they are parted.

We set aside one meagre day

    Of all our yearly treasure,

Wherewith to pay the homage due

    For blessings beyond measure.

But Thou be merciful, O God,

    Consider Thou our weakness;

Accept the tribute which we pay,

    Though late, with awe and meekness.

Turn Thou our hearts, that we may see

    All things are of Thy sending,

And lift an endless song of praise

    For mercies never-ending;

Till all the radiant angelhood

    Shall aid our poor endeavor

To magnify the Lord our God,

    And praise His name forever.

 Blog written by Christine Cohen. Great granddaughter (X3) of Warren Angus Ferris. Great granddaughter (X2) of Henry Ferris.

Descendants of those buried in the Warren Ferris Cemetery and anyone interested in sharing historical information about the cemetery are encouraged to write with stories, additions, and corrections.  Please contact me at greyhairfarm@yahoo.com

Ferris Line of Mayflower Descent

FERRIS:  Those of this name derive from Henri de Ferrers- a great Norman-English lord – who came from Ferriere de St. Hilaire in Normandy.  He took part in the Conquest of England by William of Normandy in the year 1066-his rank in the army was Master of the Horse.  His arms bore six horseshoes-argent-on a field sable.

This is the introduction to the book entitled “The Ferris Ancestry”, which was compiled by Sarah Louise Ferris Austin around 1896.  The book was later type written in 1934 by Mrs. Franklin E. Scotty.  Sarah Louise Ferris was a resident of Buffalo for almost nine decades.  She was born in March of 1850 and died in August 1938. She was the daughter of Charles Drake Ferris (brother to Warren Angus Ferris) and Hester Ann (Bivens) Ferris.  Her father had dreamed of taking his mother, wife, and children to join his brother in Texas, but was never able to break free of financial difficulties in Buffalo.  In 1849, he boarded a ship that is believed, but not proven, to have been lost at sea near Nova Scotia. Sarah Louise was born shortly after his departure, so she never met her father.  Perhaps this is why she had such deep curiosity and passion for researching her family’s ancestry.  She was a lifelong member of the Daughters of the American Revolution and the Society of Mayflower Descendants of New York. She shared her father’s love of writing and served as the managing editor of the Buffalo Commercial.  Although she left no surviving children, she did leave a labor of love in the research and documentation she prepared for future generations. Her book is considered by scholars as culturally important and is available through Google Books, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, etc. 

Within the book, the author meticulously outlines the Ferris line of Mayflower descent revealing that Warren Angus Ferris (WAF) and Charles Drake Ferris (CDF) are direct descendants of eight Mayflower passengers. This is fascinating and enlightening information for descendants of the Ferris brothers.  Please refer to a reproduction of the diagram she prepared.  Mayflower passengers are highlighted in yellow and include Frances Cooke, John Cooke, Richard Warren, William Mullins, Alice Mullins, Priscilla Mullins, John Alden, and Thomas Rogers. One could speculate that the Warren line was the inspiration for Warren Ferris’ and Warren Angus Ferris’ given name. The book is full of personal information and history of these ancestors and is definitely worth reading if you’re interested in the Ferris line. Thanks to Sarah Louise (Ferris) Austin’s tenacity, this work is preserved and available to the descendants and the public.

Blog written by Christine Cohen. Great granddaughter (X3) of Warren Angus Ferris. Great granddaughter (X2) of Henry Ferris.

Descendants of those buried in the Warren Ferris Cemetery and anyone interested in sharing historical information about the cemetery are encouraged to write with stories, additions, and corrections.  Please contact me at greyhairfarm@yahoo.com

Julia N. (Judy) Davis reflects on tales of family history

Growing up in a small sleepy Texas town, whose claim to fame was “Sausage Capital of Texas,” left plenty of time to get into trouble or harass your parents because you were bored. My mother was determined that my sister and I would learn historical stories about our ancestors during our free time.

My mother, Nell Been Davis, first introduced us to our great-great grandfather, Warren Angus Ferris, who soon became a “regular guest” at our dinner table. We learned why Grandpa Ferris left his home in New York and became a “Mountain Man” in the Wild West. The reason is still a modern-day problem in families - he and his mother argued about his smoking. We heard outrageous stories about his travels throughout Wyoming and the area that is now known as Yellowstone National Park.

These stories led us into the elementary elements of basic historical research. These were pre-computer days and no internet. That left reading books, visiting Cemeteries and Court Houses. Today, my sister and I still report that we grew up in cemeteries.

In 2019 the Texas Historical Foundation held a board meeting in Jackson, Wyoming. Why Jackson? Back in 1836 this area was considered part of Texas. Fifty miles to the south of Jackson is a small town named Pinedale, home of the Museum of the Mountain Man. A cousin of mine (also a great-great granddaughter of WAF) was traveling with me and we made the scenic drive to see the museum.

The museum was much more than we ever expected. Not seeing WAF’s name among the names mentioned, I sought out the executive director and asked him one question: “Does the name Warren Angus Ferris mean anything to you?” His response was “MEAN ANYTHING?!?! If it were not for Ferris, we would not have this museum. He was literate and wrote beautiful descriptions of the wildlife, geography and the different Indian tribes. Most mountain men were illiterate and could neither read nor write.” The descriptions Ferris sent to his family back in New York eventually became the book LIFE IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. And, yes, my mother had me reading the book when I was 10 years old.

My plea to you is to tell stories of your ancestors to the young members in your family - children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews - and build the excitement of your ancestors in their young minds. I felt sorry for my childhood friends who knew nothing of their extended families. And most of them hated history when they were forced to take history classes in school. Me? I was a history major in college.

Julia N. (Judy) Davis

Great-great granddaughter of Warren Angus Ferris

Descendants of those buried in the Warren Ferris Cemetery and anyone interested in sharing historical information about the cemetery are encouraged to write with stories, additions, and corrections.  Please contact greyhairfarm@yahoo.com

The Horse Marines: An article written by Warren Angus Ferris on Oct. 14, 1871

To the Editor of the Dallas Herald:

During the struggle for Texan Independence, there were displayed many acts of personal heroism, indeed they were common enough to produce a momentary gleam like a meteor, and then descend into the dark sea of oblivion, to be followed by other instances of gallant enterprise, calculated to brighten the hopes and animate the spirits of the weary soldiers. Among these flashes of chivalry none were more conspicuous at the moment than the exploits of the gallant little band called “The Horse Marines.”

During the inglorious retreat of General Houston, eastward from the Colorado, about a dozen choice spirits, among whom were Maj. Isaac W. Burton and Charles D. Ferris, being utterly opposed to the retreating policy of the Commander-in-Chief, resolved to take the opposite end of the road and get up a little active service on their own hook. They proceeded westward keeping a sharp look-out for the several divisions of Mexican troops, that were then advancing eastward, and succeeded in getting into the rear of the invaders. Here they hoped to pick up some of Santa Anna’s expresses, but failing in this, they proceeded to the coast near Copano. Here, perceiving a vessel bearing Mexican colors, at no great distance, they enticed a boat ashore by means of a false flag, captured the boat and, having manned it with their own party, boarded and captured the vessel, which proved to be loaded with clothing and stores for the invading army. Leading their horses coastwise to Brazoria, they soon captured a second vessel, also laden with munitions of war, and carried both successfully into the Brazos River. These stores arrived at an auspicious moment, and served to revive the drooping spirits of the retreating army. The citizens of Brazoria bore the gallant Burton on their shoulders to the hotel, and in the exuberant festivity that followed, voted that himself and gallant co-mates should be called “The Horse Marines.” W.A.F.

Dallas Herald, Dallas, Dallas County, Texas, October 14, 1871.

Blog written by Christine Cohen. Great granddaughter (X3) of Warren Angus Ferris. Great granddaughter (X2) of Henry Ferris.

Descendants of those buried in the Warren Ferris Cemetery and anyone interested in sharing historical information about the cemetery are encouraged to write with stories, additions, and corrections.  Please contact me at greyhairfarm@yahoo.com

Buffalo Hunting: An Excerpt from "Life in the Rocky Mountains"

“Life in the Rocky Mountains” is an eloquently written journal by Warren Angus Ferris (WAF) in which he recorded his adventures after joining the American Fur Company trapping, trading, hunting expedition to the Rocky Mountains. The journey began February 16, 1830, when WAF was only 17 years old and continued into 1835. His recordings provide insight from his experiences which he poetically described the vast, untamed lands stretching across the American Northwest. He beautifully chronicles the wilderness, Native American tribes and their cultures, and the trade that was the foundation of the westward expansion.

In Chapter V of the journal, WAF uses delicate eloquence to paint an image of the majestic buffalo herds on the Nebraska plains near the Platte River. On the 14th day of May, the company finally encountered their long-pursued buffalo prize. While reading this, just imagine a boy of 17 from Buffalo, New York, witnessing these breathtaking sights and having such deep appreciation for the beauty of it all, that he recorded it in a diary to share with others. Fortunately, WAF was able to capture a scenic moment in time when the American plains were literally covered with buffalo. Based on his words, the experience must have been joyous for him, and it is certainly awe-inspiring to read today.

On the fourteenth, hurrah, boys! we saw a buffalo; a solitary, stately old chap, who did not wait an invitation to dinner, but toddled off with his tail in the air.  We saw on the sixteenth a small herd of ten or twelve, and had the luck to kill one of them.  It was a patriarchal fellow, poor and tough, but what of that? we had a roast presently, and champed the gristle with a zest.  Hunger is said to be a capital sauce, and if so our meal was well seasoned, for we had been living for some days on boiled corn alone, and had the grace to thank heaven for meat of any quality.  Our hunters killed also several antelopes, but they were equally poor, and on the whole we rather preferred the balance of the buffalo for supper.  People soon learn to be dainty, when they have a choice of viands.  Next day, oh, there they were, thousands and thousands of them!  Far as the eye could reach the prairie was literally covered, and not only covered but crowded with them.  In very sooth it was a gallant show; a vast expanse of moving, plunging, rolling, rushing life - a literal sea of dark forms, with still pools, sweeping currents, and heaving billows, and all the grades of movement from calm repose to wild agitation.  The air was filled with dust and bellowings, the prairie was alive with animation, - I never realized before the majesty and power of the mighty tides of life that heave and surge in all great gatherings of human or brute creation.  The scene had here a wild sublimity of aspect, that charmed the eye with a spell of power, while the natural sympathy of life with life made the pulse bound and almost madden with excitement.  Jove but it was glorious! and the next day too, the dense masses pressed on in such vast numbers, that we were compelled to halt, and let them pass to avoid being overrun by them in a literal sense.  On the following day also, the number seemed if possible more countless than before, surpassing even the prairie‑ blackening accounts of those who had been here before us, and whose strange tales it had been our wont to believe the natural extravagance of a mere travellers' turn for romancing, but they must have been true, for such a scene as this our language wants words to describe, much less to exaggerate.  On, on, still on, the black masses come and thicken - an ebless deluge of life is moving and swelling around us!

As years passed in his journey, WAF noted in Chapter LIX, his concern about the senseless slaughter of millions of buffalo for sport and predicted their annihilation within 10 years from that period.

Beaver and other kinds of game become every year more rare; and both the hunters and Indians will ultimately be compelled to herd cattle, or cultivate the earth for a livelihood; or in default of these starve.  Indeed the latter deserve the ruin that threatens their offspring, for their inexcusable conduct, in sacrificing the millions of buffalo which they kill in sport, or for their skins only. 

It is a prevailing opinion among the most observing and intelligent hunters, that ten years from this period, a herd of buffalo will be a rare sight, even in the vast plain between the Rocky Mountains, and the Mississippi. Though yet numerous, they have greatly decreased within the last few years.  The fact is alarming and has not escaped the notice of some shrewd Indians, who however believe the evil to be unavoidable.

Introduction to Life in the Rocky Mountains, by W. A. Ferris (mtmen.org)

Blog written by Christine Cohen. Great granddaughter (X3) of Warren Angus Ferris. Great granddaughter (X2) of Henry Ferris.

Descendants of those buried in the Warren Ferris Cemetery and anyone interested in sharing historical information about the cemetery are encouraged to write with stories, additions, and corrections.  Please contact me at greyhairfarm@yahoo.com

Ferris Family: Lovers of Prose and Verse

Warren Angus Ferris and his brother, Charles Drake Ferris, were both gifted writers. Although they received limited formal education, the Ferris brothers were well read, with interests in history, literature, mathematics, the arts, and language. The Ferris/Lovejoy collection of family papers reveals an entire family of skilled writers of prose and verse.

Charles Drake Ferris and his wife Hester A. (Bivens) Ferris, had 5 children. Their daughter, Ellen May Ferris was born May 2nd, 1843. She graduated from Buffalo Central High School in 1861 and became a public school teacher. She died November 26, 1876, unmarried and without children. She possessed elegant literary ability and had a passion for poetry. Many of her poems were published in New York and Buffalo papers and periodicals. In 1867, her poem “Narcissus” won a literary prize of $50 worth of books from the Young Men’s Library Association of Buffalo. Ellen kept a scrap-book hoarding of poems written by herself and by other poets whom she admired. The scrap-book has over 1000 poems which she clipped from newspapers and pasted into her collection. It’s a beautiful collection of writing that gives the reader an inside view of the wonders and woes of the people during their times and times past. Interestingly, there are several poems capturing the expressions of emotions from citizens during the Civil War. The scrap-book is held at the Tom L. Perry Special Collections Library at BYU in Provo, Utah. It is my hope to someday see this poem collection made public, either through a published collection or through a website.

The story of Narcissus is an intriguing tale from Greek mythology. Narcissus was the son of the river god Cephissus and the nymph Liriope. He was known to be a very beautiful young man. After rejecting all romantic advances from others, he eventually falls in love with his own reflection in a pool of water. He vainly stares at his own image for the rest of his life. After he died, a golden flower sprouted, bearing his name. His story is a warning against vanity and self-adoration, thus the origin of the term narcissism.

NARCISSUS by Ellen May Ferris (1867)

He lay reclining on a fountain's brink,

Narcissus, fairest youth of mortal mold;

Half-closed his radiant eyes, adown his neck

Wide rolled his hair in waves of living gold;

The earth was lapped in summer's purple haze,

Enamored zephyrs kissed his ivory brow,

The fountain murinured softly in his ear,

A wild bird twittered from a neighboring bough;

All summer sights, all pleasant summer sounds

Allured him, and he drank in their delight,

And in delicious languors steeped his soul,

As flowers are steeped in sunshine hot and bright -

But at his heart eternal longing lay,

A longing that half pleasure was, half pain;

A dream of beauty never yet fulfilled,

A dream whose substance he had sought in vain.

“Why did the gods make me thus beautiful,

Why give me this sweet sense of all things fair,

Yet place me lonely, in a lonely land

With no dear soul my happiness to share?

“For oh! it is a blessedness to feel

Myself thus beautiful and I am blest;

But were there yet some fair and golden head

To smooth its curls, to pillow on my breast;

“To gather kisses from its vermeil lips,

To answer in low silver speech to mine,

To read soft passion in its tender eyes,

Oh! then were life, indeed, a thing divine.

“Yet, there are many young and many fair,

And some who love me. It perchance were well

If I could win some fond and gentle nymph

And in sweet peace and calm affection dwell.

“But they who from the gods have godlike gifts

Seem by their very gifts men set apart

From all the world; by common joys and griefs

Untouched, no common love can fill the heart.

“And such am I, and thus I wait and watch

For her, the goddess beautiful and bright,

Who shall unlock the chambers of my soul

And bring its secret treasures forth to light.

“I feel —I feel the appointed hour has come,

I feel — I feel the goddess now is near;

The murmuring fountain seems to call her name.

O love, my beautiful! appear! appear!

And gazing down into the crystal pool

What face is this smiles up into his own?

Oh! never since on mortal's favored sight

Hath face of such unearthly fairness shone.

Half-parted were the lips of vermeil bloom,

The azure eyes of amorous passion told;

Adown the ivory brow and polished neck,

Wide rolled the hair in waves of living gold.

Entranced he gazed upon the pictured face,

Wildly he called the goddess, but in vain.

She smiled upon him with soft luring eyes,

She smiled and smiled but answered not again.

Unhappy youth, well works the evil charm,

Who loves himself too well shall woe betide.

Thenceforth none knew Narcissus in the land,

But by that fatal pool he pined and died.

“Narcissus” poem written by Ellen M. Ferris, 1867, and reproduced from “The Poets and Poetry of Buffalo” by James Johnston, copyright 1904

Blog written by Christine Cohen. Great granddaughter (X3) of Warren Angus Ferris. Great granddaughter (X2) of Henry Ferris.

Descendants of those buried in the Warren Ferris Cemetery and anyone interested in sharing historical information about the cemetery are encouraged to write with stories, additions, and corrections.  Please contact me at greyhairfarm@yahoo.com

Who was Robert T. Taylor?

Taylor was probably born in Talbot County, Georgia in 1842 into slavery. It is in Talbot County that the Federal Census of 1870 found him. Robert is listed as an illiterate mulatto farm laborer (age 28), living with his wife Savannah A. Giddings (age 22) near O’Neal’s Mill. They married in 1866 and their four sons were born in Georgia between 1867 and 1872. Sometime after 1872, Robert Taylor moved his family to Texas. The 1880 Federal Census shows the Taylor family living in the White Rock Creek area of Dallas County. Four sons are listed: Polk, age 13; Robert, age 12: Gustus, age 10, and the  youngest, Walter, age 8. All of the boys worked on the farm, but the three oldest also attended school.

Robert T. Taylor was a successful black farmer in Dallas County who against the odds of tenancy was able to save money and buy his land.  Most tenants or sharecroppers were subsistence farmers whose continuous debt precluded them from becoming landowners. In 1894, Robert Taylor bought 24 acres of rich White Rock Creek bottom land from Isabella and Franklin Winfrey (Winfrey Point). Interestingly, this was part of C.A. Lovejoy Survey #8, four miles east of the town of Dallas, originally surveyed by W.A. Ferris. R.F. Taylor paid $200 in cash and signed three promissory notes which were paid off by 1900. One of the 24 acres Taylor deeded to the trustees of Griggs Chapel, a Negro church which sat on the corner of his farm. Sam Street’s 1900 map of Dallas County shows R.T. Taylor’s house and two rental houses on Garland Road about where the Camp House is now located at the Dallas Botanical Gardens and Arboretum.

Perhaps because they had experienced the handicap of illiteracy, Robert and Savannah Taylor were keen on educating their four sons. It is not known what schools they attended in Georgia and Texas, but they must have had excellent teachers who prepared them for professional careers.

Polk K. Taylor (1867- ?), the oldest son, is mentioned in an 1891 Dallas Morning News article as a debater in the Dallas Colored Literary Society. It is not surprising that Polk became a lawyer, practicing law in the Creek Nation of Indian Territory where he married Freddie M. Sims in 1907. Polk moved about restlessly. He was a postal clerk in Muskogee and later a teacher in Oklahoma City. His mother Savannah, in 1909, reported Polk to be divorced and living in Chickasha. In the 1920’s, he was in Tulsa, perhaps witnessing the horror of the white mobs' attack on black businesses and persons in the spring of 1921. The year of Polk K. Taylor’s death and his place of burial are not known.

Second son Robert F. Taylor (1867-1901) finished school, met and married Olivia C. Anderson of Washington County, TX, and became a Baptist minister in Corsicana, TX around 1892. More will follow about Robert F.

An 1896 newspaper item reported: “Augustus Taylor of Dallas has returned from a medical college at Nashville, TN where he has been for 2 years.” A graduate of Meharry College, the only medical school for blacks, Augustus L. “Gustus” Taylor (1869-1941) became a prominent physician/surgeon in Fort Worth, opening his practice in 1907. He married three times - the last and longest marriage was to Allie Bell Cox (1894-1967), a divorcee with a daughter, Catherine M. Moore, who was adopted by Dr. Taylor. They lived in their home at 1132 Humboldt for 40 years. Dr. Taylor died in 1941; both he and his wife are buried in the New Trinity Cemetery in Haltom City, TX.

Walter R. Taylor (1872-1916), the youngest son, became a teacher at Dallas Colored High School on Cochran at Hall Street in Freedman’s Town (now the Uptown area). In 1898, he married Caledonia Dodson who taught at the same school. A Dallas City Directory shows their residence at 469 Juliet St. In 1899, his father sold Walter an acre of the White Rock land for ”$1 and other considerations”, but Walter did not move to the land. In 1909, Walter’s mother reported that Walter lived in El Paso, TX where he was principal of the colored high school. The census of 1910 shows Walter and Caledonia in Washington, D.C. where he was employed as a tabulator for the immigration service. Before Walter moved to California around 1911, he must have gone to law school. He was an attorney in Los Angeles until his death in 1916 (age 43). Walter is buried in the Angelus Rosedale Cemetery, Los Angeles, CA.

 None of the boys came back to Dallas until Robert F. was brought home to be buried in the Ferris Cemetery in 1901. His father, Robert T. Taylor, died five years later in 1906. The elder Taylor’s obituary which appeared in the Fort Worth paper says he was buried at “White Rock”. Probably Savannah buried her husband near her son in the Ferris Cemetery.

 An interesting affidavit was given in person by Savannah Taylor in 1907 at the time she was selling most of the Taylor farm to the City of Dallas for the building of White Rock Lake. She states that Robert T. Taylor left no will but all of his debts were paid in full. Savannah reports the marital status of each of her three living heirs and where they were living. She had no grandchildren.  In 1909, Savannah sold 20+ acres of the White Rock land to the city for $60 dollars an acre. She retained a few acres where her home was located and lived there until her death at age 72 in 1920. Savannah Taylor is buried in McCree Cemetery in Northeast Dallas.

 The story of Savannah and Robert T. Taylor is one of amazing success against the backdrop of Reconstruction and Jim Crow. Coming out of slave days in Georgia to own their own farm and home in Dallas, the black couple educated four boys who became professional men - a lawyer, a preacher, a physician, and a teacher.

Who was Robert F. Taylor?

Robert F. Taylor, the second son of R.T. and Savannah Taylor, was born in Georgia and, after the Civil War, moved with his parents and brothers to a farm on White Rock Creek. Little is known of where Robert received his education. He and his brother Walter were active in the BYPU, a Baptist youth organization, where Robert, dubbed “The Fighting Tiger”, honed  his speaking and argumentation skills. Robert F. married Olivia Anderson of Washington County, TX in 1891; he was 21 and she was 18. By 1892, he was a young preacher with his own church, the Second Independent Baptist Church of Corsicana TX. Taylor was the third pastor of this historic church, said to be the second oldest Negro Baptist church in Texas.

Taylor’s church was reorganized  as the First Independent Church of Corsicana - New Building - 1929

In 1892, young R.F. Taylor wrote an impressive letter to the Plaindealer, a Negro newspaper in Detroit. He sent news from the Lone Star State where, he reported, the dominant Democratic Party was divided and the Populist Party rising in popularity. Sadly, the Afro-American vote was also divided. Reminding the reader that 130,000 slaves were freed in the South in ignorance and superstition, Rev. Taylor wrote “we need more educated people”. He noted progress being made; “The leading churches in the South today are being filled with men who keep pace with the times”; but change takes time, he wrote. His thoughtful letter reveals Taylor’s interest in politics as well as religion. Rev. Taylor was active in the Navarro County Republican Party.

Corsicana in the 1890’s experienced rapid economic and social change; a small agricultural community became a boom town after oil was discovered in 1894. Saloons and brothels sprang up. The town was teeming with unruly men. Racial tensions were high. Several incidents of vigilantism and racial violence occurred in Corsicana between 1892 and 1901. Amid this climate of instability, Pastor Robert F. Taylor went about his business with the church; he attended numerous BPYU and Sunday School conventions in Central Texas where he often preached the sermon.

All was going along smoothly until December of 1897 when Taylor went to Corsicana authorities to ask for a restraining order against church member Nathan Mosely who was threatening his life. Why was Mosely threatening Taylor? The implication was that the preacher was having an affair with Mosely’s wife. The church tried to contain the scandal, saying “It is church business” and the church elders would discipline Taylor.

On May 23,1898, white druggist John Shook shot black citizen Nathan Mosely in broad daylight before many witnesses on a downtown street of Corsicana. A Galveston newspaper gave a vivid account of the incident. Shook said the black man sent his wife an insulting letter. He was not charged with the murder.

The June 14, 1898 Dallas Morning News story, reported that Rev. R.F. Taylor and Janie Mosely were arrested and indicted for conspiracy against Janie’s husband Nathan Mosely. Headlined “Echoes of the Mosely Killing”, a July 4th article revealed that a handwriting comparison showed Mosely did not write the letter which led to his murder. A similar letter had been sent to another unidentified woman. At this point the authorities turned their attention to Rev. Taylor, recalling that Taylor had asked for a restraining order on Nathan Mosely. The sheriff suspected Taylor and Janie Mosely had written the letters hoping that one of the two husbands would kill Nathan and end his threats. Druggist Shook obliged.

R.F. Taylor was also charged with misuse of the mails and taken by the Deputy Marshal to federal court in Dallas. After spending a few days in jail, Rev. Taylor was released. His church called for his resignation. We do not think Taylor was convicted of a crime or lost his church. A newspaper article in Oct. 1900 shows him as moderator for a church meeting in Corsicana where 200 people were in attendance;  apparently, R.F. Taylor continued his church duties until his death in 1901 at age 33. The cause of his death is not known. Olivia, his wife, took his body for burial in the Ferris Cemetery in Dallas near where he had grown up. She placed the epitaph,”Gone from our home but not from our hearts” on his impressive gravestone. It seems the young preacher was forgiven his indiscretions. 

By Susanne Starling, June 2022, based on research by Donald Payton, Debra Walker, and Marilyn Kosanke

A Freedman’s Community Near White Rock Creek?

 According to a hand drawn map by W.R. Conger, a portion of the Ferris Cemetery, toward San Leandro and Ash Creek, was the site of several black burials. Some of these black people worked for neighboring farmers like the Tuckers and the Caruths;  others lived in the Reinhardt  community and worked for the Santa Fe railroad. There was a colored school in Reinhardt and Griggs Chapel, a Negro church, sat on Garland Rd. adjacent to R.T. Taylor’s land.