I was born in the city of Bremen, Germany, on the 18th day of May, 1841. My father was a native of Prussia, and my mother of the Kingdom of Hanover. They were married in the city of Bremen in 1839. There were five children born unto them; a daughter, the oldest of the family, died in Bremen; the others moved with the family to Texas. I was educated at a private school, starting at six years old, up to the time of our removal to Texas in 1853.
In connection with the ordinary literary course, the French and English languages were taught in the higher grades in which I had just entered, but when father decided to move to Texas, he had me drop the French and employed an additional private teacher to come to our home and give me English lessons, which enabled me to speak the English language on our arrival in Texas.
Our father was a manufacturer of fine mahogany furniture and established a profitable trade on this with New York, exporting more of his furniture than was sold at home, though he had quite an extensive local trade, as his styles and work were very popular, all of his furniture being hand carved.
The great Revolution of 1848, which caused great stringency in financial affairs of the country, forced him to mortgage his home, and from this he never recovered. It was this condition that induced his removal to Texas.
Father and I came to Texas a year in advance of the balance of the family, for the purpose of getting acquainted with the country and its conditions. Then, the year following the rest of the family came over. We settled in Houston, Texas. We came over on a large sailing ship, as steamships were very few, and we came by way of New Orleans, where we found a great yellow fever epidemic, though we escaped it this year.
I forgot to mention that, when a child about four years old, I was playing on the river front, sliding up and down on a plank with one end in the water, the other end on the steps leading down to the water, when I lost my hold, slid into the river and under the bottom of a schooner, coming out on the opposite side, where one of the sailors caught me by the hair just as I started under the third time. I was carried home unconscious. This proved my first narrow escape from death, of which I had many during life.
Soon after our arrival in Houston, father worked in an undertaking establishment for a man by the name of Pannel, but during the first summer, both father and mother were taken sick with typhoid fever and died within one week, leaving me, the oldest of the family, then thirteen years old, to take care of the rest of the children.
We had an uncle, father’s brother, living on Spring Creek, in the upper part of Harris County, who took charge of our sister and a younger brother until I could make provisions for them to come back to Houston, there to get the benefit of the schools.
During the yellow fever of that fall my brother, next to me, died with yellow fever.
I forgot to mention that soon after arrival in Houston I secured a position in the large retail grocery establishment of F. Bauman, and, subsequently, in the wholesale grocery establishment of C. E. Gregory, where I soon became shipping clerk and an expert marker of freight, with the marking brush; so much so that when a lot of freight was turned out on the sidewalk (to be shipped by ox-wagon, which was the only means of transportation out of Houston before the day of railroads) and when marking this freight, passersby would stop and watch me, as I was the youngest shipping clerk in Houston, which of course made me feel very proud.
After a year or more in the service of this wholesale establishment I was offered a position in a retail dry goods establishment of G. Gerson, where I became familiar with the dry goods business. After about a year, Gerson decided to open a general merchandise establishment at Waxahachie and place his cousin, Robert Angleman, in charge of the same, and, for this purpose, loaded about a half dozen ox-wagons with part of his Houston stock and employed me to go to Waxahachie and clerk for Angleman.
In place of going up to Waxahachie on the stage, our only means of travel then, I begged them to allow me to go with the wagons, as I was anxious to camp out and hunt on the way, but I took a great fancy to driving one of the wagons, the driver of which permitted me to learn, and I became somewhat expert in handling six yoke of oxen, each one of which had a name, such as “Red” or “Ball,” or “Jerry.” The oxen seemed to know their names when called on to move up, followed by the crack of the big whip, and it is hardly necessary to say when this outfit entered Waxahachie, preceded by this team, this little boy was driving, popping his whip as loud as any of the men. I felt I was the biggest man among them.
Angleman’s business proved a great success—selling goods for cash and also taking pecans in trade for goods at fifty cents a bushel. These pecans were shipped by wagon to Houston and from thence to New York, where they netted from sixteen to eighteen cents per pound. Angleman’s business was the first Jewish establishment in Waxahachie, and ultimately grew to be the largest business in that section of the country.
My sojourn at Waxahachie of about two years proved the most pleasant of my life, as everybody seemed to be my friend, and took a special interest in me because I was the only orphan child in the place and was without a home. While there I boarded at both hotels; first at the Rogers House and next at the Ellis House.
After two years in Waxahachie, I decided to move back to Houston, where I concluded to learn the printer’s trade, and for this purpose secured a position in the office of the Houston Telegraph, which, at that time, perhaps, had the largest circulation and was the leading paper in the State. It was published by Allen & Brockett. Soon after entering this office and acting as printer’s devil for a while, they promoted me to the job office, where I became expert in doing fancy work, such as marriage notices, ball invitations, etc., but I was unable to collect any salary; these people were always hard up for money, and I never got anything out of it but my board and sufficient money for clothing. I finally became disgusted and went to Galveston, where I had an offer from a man by the name of Spratt, who published a little paper called the Ignis Fatuous or Jack o’ the Lantern. As the name indicates it was a humorous paper, containing criticisms in a humorous vein, of leading politicians of the city and the State. It was one of the most popular periodicals then published, selling at ten cents a copy, by newsboys, without having any left over each week. Here, too, I failed to get my pay, though I set up the whole paper and made up the forms, which were sent up to the Gazette’s office on Friday, where it was struck off ready for the sale of the paper on Saturday. I did my work at Spratt’s home, where he had set apart a room containing cases. I had board at the same place.
Spratt was a billiard fiend and, as soon as he got the money for his papers on Saturday, he would stay in town, play billiards until his money was exhausted, come home about Tuesday, and then prepare to furnish matter for the next issue. I worked with him for about sixty days. Failing to get my pay, I became disgusted and concluded that the printer’s trade was a good thing for me to drop. I then went back to Waxahachie and again went to work with the Angleman house and formed the acquaintance of an old land surveyor by the name of James E. Patton, who employed me to go with him on surveying expeditions, just for company, paying me a good salary. I furnished my own horse and arms, the latter of which he never carried. He was firm in the belief that Indians would never trouble him, although it was said that he was taken prisoner by the Indians, having been caught surveying lands down on Chambers’ Creek in Ellis County. They turned him loose, which was considered one of the most remarkable cases of Indian generosity ever known on the frontier, as they always killed surveyors whom they caught locating land.
It was also related of this old man, that, in the early days, when he surveyed lands in Ellis County, he substituted chain carrying by hobbling his ankles just the length of a vara, and stepped off the land, in place of measuring it with a chain. Colonel Patton was one of the most popular surveyors and land locaters in Texas. His compensation for locating headright certificates was one-half of the land, which made him one of the richest men in lands, at the time of his death, in that section of the State.
My first trip with Colonel Patton was to Fort Belknap, Texas, where he had formed the acquaintance of a man by the name of Gibbons, who moved there from Arkansas and owned about a dozen negroes, with whom he cultivated a considerable plantation just across the river from Fort Belknap. Gibbons had an Indian wife, a Delaware, who was dark complected like other Indians, but she had a younger sister, who married General Tarrant, an old Texas pioneer and Indian fighter, after whom Tarrant County is named. General Tarrant made his home in Ellis County and he and Colonel Patton were great friends. General Tarrant happened to be on a visit at Gibbons’ when we arrived there on our first expedition, and we were made to feel at home before starting out surveying.
It was the custom there for surveyors to make up a party of a half dozen or more to go on these expeditions, for protection against Indians who were then roaming over that whole section of the country. There was an Indian agency about twelve or fifteen miles below Belknap, in charge of Captain Shapley Ross, the father of General L. S. Ross, then a boy like myself. This agency was composed of remnant tribes of Indians, probably a half dozen or more, whom the Comanche Indians had run in off the range. These Indians had the protection of the United States Government and, of course, pretended to be friendly. The most uncivilized Indian in this agency was the Tonkawa, who, it was claimed, were cannibals. I remember as we passed through Keechie Valley, on our way to Weatherford, we stopped at a store for about an hour, resting and talking, when the storekeeper told us of a trouble he came very near having the day before. It seems a Tonkawa Indian had offered to trade him a pony for a young Kentuckian, who had just come out from his State and was clerking in the store. He asked the Indian what he wanted to do with the Kentuckian if he accepted his offer. The Indian told him that he wanted to eat him. The young man got a gun and was about to shoot the Indian, when the storekeeper stopped him and made the Indian leave.
There was another Indian agency at Camp Cooper, about forty miles west of Belknap, presided over by a man by the name of Neighbors. This agency had a tribe of the Southern Comanches, who were also run in by the Northern Comanches, or Apaches. These Southern Comanches claimed to be friendly with the whites in order to have the protection of the United States Government, but they, and occasionally the Ross Agency Indians, were believed to be responsible for many of the raids on our exposed frontier; especially the Indians at the upper agency at Camp Cooper. These raids became frequent; one of them culminating in the murder of two families in Jack County, and the carrying off of a little boy and girl as prisoners. Being hotly pursued by Rangers and citizens, they were forced to abandon the boy, whom they threw into the brush to be found by the pursuers. He made the statement that he was taken upon a horse, behind a red-headed white man, who seemed to be the leader of the band. This red-headed white man was seen in the Indian camp, located up on the Canadian River, at different times, by scouts.
