Posts Tagged ‘Horace Lawton Story’


A seven year old boy stood in silence as he looked on the still remains of his grandfather lying in a coffin. Horace Lawton Story was a lanky lad with light sky blue eyes. He wore his blondish hair cut close to the scalp, unlike most young lads in 1893, because his grandfather favored it.

“When a soldier goes into battle, he shaves his head; that way his hair will not tangle and get caught up in something, and slow him down. Do away with pride Horace and keep your hair cut close to the head so that you will be ready for anything at any time,” spoke William Aurelius Gunby to his grandson in months past. “Don’t be an Absalom!”

Young Horace Story knew all about King David’s Absalom, Grandpa Gunby had seen to that, and much more. The man was a staunch Methodist who lived his belief daily.

Young Horace stood there before his beloved grandfather with pride as he took away his cap as though showing Grandpa Gunby his obedience. Horace fought back tears and tried to be a brave soldier, but failed as hot tears streamed down his face.

Being a brave soldier was important to the Gunby family, especially since his great-great grandfather, Basil O’Neal, was a Revolutionary War soldier. But today was a time sorrow could not be hidden. Horace would be a “brave little soldier” on another day.

William Aurelius Gunby was delighted when his daughter, Sallie Elizabeth Gunby-Story, gave birth to this grandson. Sallie had lost a son who was still born, but this baby boy was a born fighter and survived. And as a proud grandfather, he insisted the baby boy be named after the famous Roman poet, Quintus Horatio Flaccus, because there was more to life than being a fighter. Aurelius wanted to teach his new grandson strength through humility.

Yes Grandpa Gunby knew the importance of being a strong and accomplished soldier, though he was a quiet and peaceful man. He was a Georgia planter by trade. He believed in power through the All Mighty, hard work, deep thought and kindness. He was born January 29, 1828, in East Georgia and married his sweetheart, Selina Anne Smalley.

Selina was born October 12, 1832, and was the daughter of Michael and Eleanor “Nellie” Neal Smalley. Nellie was the daughter of Revolutionary war soldier, Basil O’Neal. After the colonies earned their independence from England, the O’Neals dropped the “O” in O’Neal and became Neal in an act of patriotism.

Young Horace was proud of his “fighting for freedom” family. It came natural as he was “raised on it.”

But today, as Horace Story stood before his fallen grandfather, he recalled the many days that he walked with Grandpa Gunby outside – out under the clouds.

“Come here Horace, come walk with me,” Grandpa Gunby would say as he cut Horace from the herd, “Just you and me.”

This always delighted the young lad although he had to take three strides to his grandfather’s one in order to keep up.

After walking for a while, Grandpa Gunby would stop dead in his tracks, look up while shielding his eyes with his hand, “Beautiful cloud formation today; maybe rain tonight. Look at ‘em move.”

Horace would mimic his grandfather and shield his eyes and study the clouds. After a while the grandfather would speak to his grandson, and this is what Horace lived for. He hung on every word.

“What do you see Horace?”

“I see a kite, but it’s dissolving fast. The wind is blowing.”

“A picture is a poem without words, that’s what Horatio the Roman poet said. Wise man; Horace what do you know of Horatio?”

“I know I’m named after him,” they walked on a bit, then Horace looked up to his grandfather and asked, “Grandpa, how did Horatio get so smart? Was he born smart? Or did he have to study hard?” Horace took a deep breath and let it all out. “Grandpa I know you want me to memorize the whole Apostles’ Creed, but it’s too long.”

“Stay with it and you will get it all. But, for now, let me hear what you know.”

Horace thought for a moment then said, “I believe in God the Father, Almighty, Maker of Heaven and Earth. And in Jesus Christ, his only begotten Son, our Lord.”

“Excellent! That will do for now.”

“Grandpa, how did Horatio become so wise,” Horace reminded his grandfather of his question.

“It was life’s circumstances that made Horatio wise. He was born to a wealthy family. He went to the best schools and fought alongside Marc Anthony in the Battle of Philippi.”

“Horatio was a great soldier too? Like Grandpa Basil?” young Horace was amazed and curious. “Why didn’t you tell me about that before? You’ve just told me about his wise sayings.”

“Well, I suppose I never mentioned it, because Horatio did the unthinkable; you might say – the unspeakable.”

“What? What did he do?”

“Well, my boy, even though Octavia and Marc Anthony won that battle, it had little to do with Horatio.” Grandpa Gunby chuckled and chose his words carefully, “Well, how can I put this? No other way but to say, Horatio got scared, threw down his shield and weapon, and ran like a scared dog.”

“No way Grandpa, you wouldn’t name me after a coward. I hope Eugene don’t hear about this.”

Aurelius laughed, “Eugene is your cousin and best friend! But you are right, Horace, I would not name you after a coward, nor a rich man fighting for the Roman army. There was more to Horatio than that.”

“Like what?”

“Horatio accepted his disgrace. He knew when he was wrong. He lost his family’s wealth. He lived in poverty, sometimes going hungry. That’s when Horatio embraced hard work. As he worked sun up to sun down, he thought about how it was to be wealthy, a soldier, a poor man. That is when he wrote down his thoughts.”

“Like – Life grants nothing to us mortals without hard work,” Horace said proudly.

“Yes, you have learned well for such a small lad, very well said,” Aurelius Gunby continued speaking as they walked and admired the cloud formation, “Life is ever changing just like those clouds. The secret to happiness is to embrace the change, learn from the past, and move on. That is true wisdom and Horatio learned that and shared it with you and me.” Grandpa stopped suddenly and pointed to the sky. “Now, Horace, tell me what you see.”

“I see an elephant to the right and a bear to the left.”

“Yes, I see the bear, but not the elephant,” Grandpa Gunby studied harder. “And see now the bear is becoming a flower. Do you see that?”

“Yes sir, I do see it. It’s beautiful.”

The grandfather took a step forward and the grandson followed suit. They walked a bit further and the grandfather spoke again, “You know Horace, one day you will leave this place and find your own way into the world. Lord only knows what is in store for you; some good —– some bad I suppose.” Aurelius watched the clouds swirl about. “The sky over you will change. Yes, those who cross the sea, change sky, but not their soul.”

Young Horace nodded his head “yes,” because he understood his grandfather all too well. He had heard this quote for as long as he could remember. Every time someone in the family took leave, Aurelius Gunby sent his loved one on his or her way with a reminder that their soul would not change just because they were away from home.

The two walked on together, and then Aurelius got down to the real reason for the walk. And it would not be the last time this subject came up.

“Now Horace, what’s this I hear about you and your cousin squabbling?”

“Who Grandpa?”

“Who? Who have you been arguing with? Over Mr. Goat?”

“Oh, that. Well, I want to lead Mr. Goat some times. Eugene always has to lead! It’s not fair!”

“Eugene trained Mr. Goat and he helped his father and uncles build the cart.  It’s good of him to ask you to ride with him. Doesn’t that beat walking back and forth to school?”

“But he could let me take the reins some of the time; don’t ya think?”

They walked on. Finally the old man said, “A word once sent abroad, flies irrevocably. Horace, my boy, once a bitter word comes out of your mouth, it cannot be pulled back. It is out there forever. Please remember that when speaking to someone. And I dare say, it is your decision how you treat Eugene.”

They walked on for a few more minutes still noticing the clouds and pointing out pictures in the sky, saying little.

The memories of the walks and talks overwhelmed seven year old Horace as he stood before his still and silent grandfather in the Gunby parlor. This was a change that he had to embrace, just as Horatio accepted his demise.

The voice of his grandmother, Selina, interrupted his thoughts for a moment. She was speaking to a black man who lived on the Gunby farm for as long as Horace could remember. She sent for him and he had come into the parlor.

“I want to thank you for caring for Mr. Gunby,” said Selina Gunby.

“No ‘mam, no need, it was my pleasure.”

Selina smiled graciously at the man, “I knew you would want to say goodbye to him.” Selina walked toward the man and extended her hand. He accepted her hand as tears rolled down his face.

“Years ago, Mr. Gunby freed his slaves, before the war I might add; before it was Mr. Lincoln’s law,” stated Selina.

“Yes ‘mam he did. He told me I was free – like the rest of ‘em, and I said, Mr. Gunby if I’m free to stay here and care for you then that’s what I’m a gonna do. And ‘mam, that’s what I did.”

“And no one could have done better, and now you are free to go as you were then.”

“No ‘mam, if you don’t mind, I’ll stick around. Someone needs to look after Mr. Gunby’s grave. I don’t want no roots growing in or around his grave. I want to keep it cleaned off. I’ll see to it every day.”

“Very well,” Selina replied, “you are welcome to stay for as long as you wish. The family is grateful to you. Will you help us carry Mr. Gunby to the wagon?”

The man did not answer, but went straight away to the coffin where he stood for a moment and wept.

Young Horace stepped back as the coffin was closed and carried out of the house.

As Horace followed the coffin, he knew he followed the remains of an honorable man; a man Horace was proud to call “Grandpa.”

As the family walked out of the house and gathered about the wagon, Charles Oren Gunby raised his hand to hold up the horses. He looked up to the April sky and observed the clouds racing about, and said, “Those who cross the sea, change sky, but not their soul.” He wiped his eyes and asked, “Does anyone else have something to say about Father before we leave the farm?”

The black man raised his head and said, “Pale Death will beat at the po’ man’s do’ and the rich man’s do’ – all the same – that’s what Mr. Gunby said.”

“Yes indeed. Is there anyone else?” asked seventeen year old Charles Gunby.

Young Eugene Gunby said, “Yes, Uncle Charlie. I want to say: Happy is a man who fears dishonor worse than death, and is not afraid to die.”

William Aurelius Gunby was right  when he said Horace would leave this place, have good times and bad times. Horace married his childhood sweetheart, Nancy Bentley; they had nine children and twenty-six grandchildren. At the tender age of seventeen, Horace had to accept the fact that his father had been murdered. At seventeen, he buried his beloved Grandmother Selina the same year he buried his father. As a farmer, Horace toiled over rocky soil and fought boll weevils. He put food on the table and clothes on his family during the Great Depression.  Horace watched a beloved son slowly and painfully become a cripple. He buried his wife and son. He fought asthma all the live long day.

And it was Uncle Charlie, who encouraged Horace to leave Lincolnton and come to the Atlanta area. Charlie Oren Gunby became Professor Gunby and taught school in Decatur, Georgia. He also owned a small farm on the edge of Tucker. Horace packed up his whole family and moved to that little farm.

I am proud to say that Horace Lawton Story (Sr.) was my grandfather. Anyone who knew him knew that no matter where he found himself, under good or bad circumstances, Horace Lawton Story was a man with an unchanged soul.

And though Horace had less than eight years with William Aurelius Gunby, he closely followed his grandfather’s footsteps all the days of his life.

Author’s Notes:

The black man cared for Mr. Gunby’s grave until the day he died.

The William Aurelius Gunby family lived in a big two story white house near Arimathea Methodist.

William Aurelius Gunby was born in 1828 and died April 20, 1893. He was a steward in the Methodist church for thirty years. He is buried at Dunn’s Chapel.

Also buried at Dunn’s Chapel are William Aurelius Gunby’s parents, William Gunby 1798 – 1858 and Hannah Digby-Gunby 1786 – 1831.

Dunn’s Chapel’s 650 Ridge Road Appling, Georgia. Appling is near Lincolnton, Georgia. Some call the area Leah, Georgia.

Horatio was a poet who was born 65 BC. The English translation of Horatio is Horace.

Quotes from Quintus Horatio Flaccus that were used in this story:

A picture is a poem without words.

A word once sent abroad, flies irrevocably.

Those who cross the sea, change sky, but not their soul.

Pale Death with impartial tread beats at the poor man’s cottage and the palaces of kings.

Life grants nothing to us mortals without hard work.

 

 

 

 

 


Henry Allen Story 1838-1913

A man named Henry Allen “Buck” Story played a major role in the making of the Story family in Georgia. Buck Story was born September 23, 1838 in Warren County.

He started out farming in Warren County, formerly a part of the St. Paul’s Parish. It was a place where the first white settlers were granted land by King George III of England, back when Georgia was a colony.

Warrenton of Warren County was a pass through settlement that was part of the Creek Indian Upper Trade Path. The path started in Augusta, Georgia, and made its way to the Mississippi River. Until the War Between the States, Warrenton had a mule-car transportation system. Buck Story came into this world thirty-five years before the true railroad came to Warren County. And before Buck Story was finished farming, he had acquired extensive farming interest in Warren, McDuffie and Columbia Counties. He was a planter, same as his father.

Yes, Buck Story was a planter and a very successful one, though he did not live in an antebellum plantation home, nor did he dress as a country gentleman. Perhaps that was due to his beginnings in the life experience.

Buck Story was the twentieth child of Samuel Gaines Story. His mother was Stacy Duckworth-Story. Samuel Gaines Story died while Henry Allen Story was still in his mother’s womb. Though the unborn child was provided for in Samuel’s last will and testament, young Henry Allen had to figure out how to survive without a father’s influence or love. He had to learn to stand on his own two feet and teach himself to be a man.

Farming and hard work was all young Henry Allen Story knew, and he knew it well. He saved every dime he made and thought long and hard on each and every business decision made. It was a matter of survival.

A story to illustrate his attitude toward thrift has survived for one-hundred-fifty plus years in the Story family oral tradition. It went something like this. After a long day of work in the field, Buck Story noticed one of his workers had on a pair of trousers, better than his.

“I want to know one thing,” said Buck Story, “how can you afford those two dollar britches? I must be paying you too much.”

The man looked puzzled and said, “No, Mr. Story, these are fifty cent britches.”

“No they’re not. I know where you bought ‘em. And he sells ’em britches for two dollars.”

“No sir, fifty cents.”

With that Buck Story handed the man fifty cents and said, “Here, take this and go buy me a pair. From now on, part of your job is to do my clothes buying. And don’t tell that scoundrel who you’re buying for. I won’t pay two dollars for a fifty cent pair of britches.”

Buck Story was hard pressed to depart with a dollar if he did not absolutely have to. It was the way he made it through life and that attitude served him well.

Marriage also served him well. Buck married Rachel Ann Montgomery, the oldest child of Mary Swint Montgomery and James Franklin Montgomery on April 2, 1854 at the home of her father. Unfortunately, Rachel’s mother passed away a month before the wedding.

The Montgomerys placed an ad in the Christian Index announcing the engagement a year before the event.

James Montgomery was a wealthy farmer and did not hold to the tradition of handing down inheritance to the oldest son. He made all of his children wealthy: Rachel Ann, Martha E., David H., John B., Lucy A., Jane R., and Mary F. Montgomery.

Though money was important to Buck, so was family. He loved Rachel Ann Montgomery, and together they had six sons, no daughters. Buck proudly boasted, “Each of my sons can do the work of ten men, couldn’t have a son who could be any other way. It’s in the blood.”

The Story family farmed cotton, sugarcane and other crops of the South, but cotton was king. Nothing made Buck happier than to sit atop his horse and admire the snow white covered land for as far as the eye could see, snow white cotton covered land that is. Buck owned several farms in the fertile land just east of Augusta: Moon’s Town, Silver Dollar Farm, Mistletoe, Marshall Dollar Place, Big Cotton Gin, Little Cotton Gin, and the Garnett Place.

He stationed his sons on the farms to live and oversee them. At the end of the cotton season, Buck and his sons loaded up mule teams and took the cotton to Savannah, Georgia, where he could receive top dollar. To Buck Story, cotton was “money in the bank.”

One such year, he was stopped outside Savannah by the law.

“What’s the problem officer?” asked Buck Story.

“Well, Mr. Story the problem is, you don’t have any brakes on your wagons.”

“Don’t need any.”

“Well the city council says you do.”

“City council, what they got to do with me and my cotton?”

“You got a twenty mule team here. City council says any wagon coming in with a twenty mule team has to have brakes on the wagon, and in your case, wagons.”

“That’s about the darndest thing I ever heard! I never had a wagon with brakes…”

“Well, Mr. Story, I’m sorry, but you’re not taking that cotton into Savannah without brakes on your wagons. It’s dangerous…”

“The hell you say! My wagons are safe! Ask anybody! Man, don’t you know brakes costs money?”

“Too many wagons out of control in the city, Mr. Story.”

“My mules stop on a dime! Anybody who knows Buck Story knows I wouldn’t own a mule that couldn’t stop on a dime! This is highway robbery!”

Buck Story argued his case to no avail. He grumbled and finally pointed out a team of men and sent them into Savannah for brakes. He stayed with a few men armed with weapons to guard his “bank account!”

Yes, Buck Story was successful and made sure his family was taken care of, that is if they pulled their own weight. Everybody had to work, everybody had a job to do, and it had to be done right. And “right” meant, Buck’s way.

Buck Story was tough, he was hard. Well after he had earned the respect of the community, he never let up. He worked from sun up to sun down. He faced obstacles in life and met them head on.

Buck Story was about thirty years old when the War Between the States ended. He lost his wealth, and his horse. Yes the Yankees captured Buck Story’s horse June 11, 1864. It is well documented. They got his horse, but they did not get Buck Story. When the war was over, he recouped ninety per cent of that wealth. Buck was no stranger to loss, or starting from a disadvantage. To him it was another day, another plan. The plan was tenant farming.

Buck struck an agreement with a farmer and allowed the farmer to live and work the farm. At the end of cotton season, the tenant farmer owed Buck Story the amount of cotton agreed upon. If the farmer came up short, it was time for the farmer to move on and another took his place. Buck was accused of being too hard on farmers especially when he asked a long time friend to move on.

“Mr. Story, you’ve known me for years! And I just short a little. Surely you don’t mean me and my family to leave this farm.”

But he did mean it. Buck Story was a hard line bottom liner. It was the only way he could farm thousands of acres and raise his growing family. Buck Story was a no excuses kind of man.

Nor was Buck Story spared his share of sorrow. A few days after his sixth son was born, Buck’s wife, Rachel Ann died.

Several years later Buck married a young school teacher, Susan Winston McDaniel, from Virginia. He met her through a connection with the Ramsey-Bentley family in Leathersville. With Susan, Buck had eleven more children.

Buck Story was man of his times, a man who knew how to survive anything; anything until December 2 of 1904, when he found his son, Rad Story, in a canebrake near Thomson Road dead. Some say he never quite got over it.

In his lifetime, Buck Story raised seventeen children to mature adulthood, educating them all.  He loved them all, but losing his Rad took part of his soul. No matter how many children he had, one could not replace the void left in his heart for Rad.

Radford Gunn Story was the third son of Buck and Rachel Montgomery Story. Rad was named in honor of their minister, Radford Gunn. Reverend Radford Gunn was minister at the Little Brier Creek Baptist Church in Warrenton, Georgia.

Rad died as a result of an altercation on one of the big Story farms.

Buck had a close relationship with all of his sons, but if he was soft on one, it was Rad.

Oh, Buck kicked and screamed and gave Rad what for just like the others, but more often gave into him. Was it because he saw something of Rachel Montgomery in his son’s eyes? Or was it his more gentle nature?

When Rad Story married Sallie Elizabeth Gunby in 1885, Buck moved the newlyweds into his farm called Mistletoe. Mistletoe was the farm that backed up to Buck’s home on the farm called Moon’s Town. It was a generous offer and anyone would have been happy enough for such a life, but Rad approached Buck with the fact that Sallie did not want to live on that farm.

Sallie Gunby-Story was from a staunch Methodist family in Lincolnton, Georgia, just northeast of Warrenton. Even though Rad and Sallie started their family at Mistletoe, she became disenchanted with life on that farm. It was too far from home. She longed for Lincolnton. It was only about ten miles or so, but back in the day of horse and buggy and no telephones, it was a long way from home.

The Gunbys were a pillar in the Arimathea Methodist Church and placed great value on higher education and every day Bible reading.

The Gunby Homeplace, g-g-g grandchildren of William Aurelius Gunby & Henry Allen Story

Buck Story so often disagreed with the Gunbys way of thinking. He did not have a problem with education in general. His eighth son, Zera Story, became a medical doctor. Buck wanted his children to read and write, go to church and read the Scriptures on Sunday – after their chores were done. Livestock had to get tended to – Sunday or not.

Yes, as a father, he believed in educating his children, but for the life of him, Buck Story did not get why anyone would want a PhD in the middle of cotton country. He shook his head in disbelief at the thought of reciting poetry and sitting around discussing Homer’s Iliad.

For crying out loud, Sallie Gunby-Story, named his grandson, “Horace” Lawton Story, after Quintus Horatius Flaccus, a Roman poet during the time of Augustus! Buck chose to call his grandson, “Buster,” and preferred Lawton over Horace any day of the week.

Poetry and the like were all a bunch of nonsense and a waste of time. And time was money. Didn’t the Gunbys understand that? And the notion that “old man Gunby” released his slaves before the War Between the States did not make sense to Buck Story.

Buck Story sometimes felt like his world was being invaded by the Gunby family along with their thoughts of society and curious way of life. And it did not start with Rad marrying Sallie.

Buck’s first son, Sam Story, started the “Gunby onslaught” by marrying Ida E. Gunby, Sallie’s sister. And then in 1885 Rad married Sallie. And Sallie just could not, would not, be happy at Mistletoe. So Rad pleaded his case to Buck Story.

To add to the persuasion, William Aurelius Gunby wanted to give land to his daughter, Sallie, so that she and Rad could live near the old Gunby home place in Lincolnton – near in proximity of the Arimathea Methodist Church and all the other Gunbys. The old man would stop at nothing to reel his family in close to him. There Rad would live and work as an overseer for Buck’s farms.

Buck fought it for as long as he could, but reluctantly, gave into Rad. And after all, the Gunbys were willing to deed land over to the couple. It was beginning to make good business sense, so Buck agreed to Rad’s move to Lincolnton.

Rad built Sallie a home on that newly gifted land. Though he was Baptist, he thoroughly embraced the Gunby-Methodist way of life in Lincolnton. Their son, Horace Lawton, volunteered his time to care for the horses during church services at Arimathea, while their daughters took to reciting poetry and making hats. The girls dreamed of a day when they could own their own millinery shop in Lincolnton.

Buck Story did not know what this world was coming to.

And with the untimely death of his son Rad, Buck did all he could to help his grandson, Horace Lawton.  He tried to teach the boy to be a farmer just like him. But Buck soon found out that although his grandson walked with the Story gait and bore the Story name, he was Gunby through and through. Horace Lawton could not be hard on field hands, no more than the “old man Gunby” could own another human being. The boy was most happy when singing hymns or discussing philosophical issues.

Horace Lawton continued to farm, but it proved most difficult for this young seventeen year old man to interact and work for Grandpa Buck. While living, Rad saw to it that his son was shielded from the sterner side of Buck Story. Now, that Rad was gone, young Horace Lawton had a different relationship with his grandfather. He now saw Grandpa Buck as Chairman of the Board. Horace Lawton withdrew into his own world on his Lincolnton farm, and had less and less to do with the everyday work on Grandpa Buck’s big farms.

Yes, Buck Story had overcome every obstacle in his world. He came to terms with growing up without a father, the War Between the States, and the invasion of the Gunbys. But he was never quite the same after losing his son, Rad. Some say losing Rad was the only thing that “just about whooped him.”

Later in life, his second wife, Susan McDaniel-Story, encouraged Buck to purchase an “in town home” in Thomson. As time went on, he stayed more in town than in the countryside. Eventually, to everyone’s surprise, he left his fields of cotton for a different way of life. For the first time in his life, he let go and let others.

Some say Buck just got old and tired. Others say that young wife of his wore him out. And again, maybe Buck Story’s heart melted a bit when the good Lord gave him a daughter when his thirteenth child was born. While others say that was not the reason at all. They say finding Rad in that canebrake dead in the middle of winter was the real reason.

Buck Story gave up the ghost and left this world May 19, 1913. He is buried in the Thomson City Cemetery, in Thomson Georgia, beside his second wife, Susan. Near Susan, rest Sallie McDaniel-Ramsey, wife of politician Caleb E. “Tip” Ramsey. Also in Plot 186 are buried, Banny, Francis, Sarah, Ocey and Gaines Story. Six more Storys are buried in nearby Plot 192.

Buck Story was ten years old when the American Women’s Suffrage Movement began, and women won the right to vote just seven years after his death. In his lifetime, Henry Allen “Buck” Story saw the world change dramatically in the area of human rights. If he had lived to 1920 and witnessed this victory for women, I feel certain that he would have perceived it as another victory for that  “old man Gunby.”

Henry Allen “Buck” Story’s sixteenth child, Miss Gaines Story, wrote about her father. Below is a portion of that statement.

My father, Henry Allen Story, was a remarkable man in many respects. He was a doer of good deeds, was not selfish, but was wise in the provision of the future.  He demonstrated business abilities which controverted the theory – a man’s usefulness is over at sixty.  He was a good father in the best sense, good provider and educated all of his children. My father was an accomplished businessman who recouped financial losses during the trying years of the (eighteen) nineties which broke up seventy-five per cent of the Planters. Rest that death brought to his tired body was a welcome. He was a consistent member of the Baptist Church and enjoyed the competence and respect of all who knew him. His first wife was Rachel Ann Montgomery. They had six sons: Samuel Walker Story, known as “Fox Huntin’ Sam,” James Montgomery Story, Radford Gunn Story, Henry David Story, Benjamin Franklin Story and Columbus Marion “Lum” Story. After his first wife’s death, he married my mother, Susan Winston McDaniel of Virginia in 1869. They had eleven children: Andrew O’Bannion “Banny” Story, Dr. Zera McDaniel Story, known as “Dr. Mac,” (Mr.) Stacy Story, Claude Story, Carl Story, Francis “Frank” Story, Mae Story, known as the “Queen of the House,” and was the heroine in the novel, “The Old Old Story” by Thomas E. Watson, Sarah “Sallie” Katherine Story, (Miss) Ocey Story, (Miss) Gaines Story, and Thomas Boyd Story, known as “Little Doc.”  (End of Miss Gaines Story’s notarized statement.)

Quotes from Quintus Horatius Flaccus (65-19 B. C.) English translation: Quotes from Horace

Coelum non animun mutant qui trans mare currunt – Those who cross the sea, change sky, but not the soul.

Non omnis moriar – Not all of me will die.

Author’s Notes:

Henry Allen “Buck” Story had twelve sons before becoming the father of a daughter. Mae Story must have truly been the “Queen of the House.” All total, he had thirteen sons and four daughters. His grandson, Horace Lawton Story, was my father’s father.

Regarding the birth date of Henry Allen Story: Recorded in the family Bible Henry Allen Story’s father,  Samuel Gaines Story’s death was February 28, 1838. Samuel’s will was probated on June 6, 1838. Henry Allen Story was born on September 23, 1838. The story about his father dying just before Henry Allen was born has been passed down through the Story family.