Baker, biscuits and brandy

In 1916 T.R.A. Willis and others wrote of travelling throughout Cass County and having to stop for the night halfway across - something that’s hard to comprehend these days. Oftentimes travelers stopped by for dinner and a bed for the night, whether they new the homeowner or not. In that day, nearly everyone had a guest room or a place for a visitor or two to lay their head.

Sometimes those travelers would find themselves in a peculiar situation, as described by Willis in this article in which he elaborated on the condition of the Atlanta area during the reign of Cullen Baker and his gang.

“In A Scary Situation”

“About the first of February 1869 my father and I arrived at the Schluter (or Cole) place, now owned by J.J. Ellington, Jr., in time to look it over. My father wanted to see Ed Stephens who settled, owned and was living on a place one mile east of Atlanta. We crossed Black Bayou at the crossing on the Linden Road and continued in a northeasterly direction on the old Linden and Bright Star Road for about half of a mile. Then we took a neighborhood road which passed on the north side of the Scott farm and along the north line of the present location of the city cemetery, crossing the hills just above the old Atlanta sawmill [located where Louise Street is now].

“This road led us to Bob Spell’s place. He was running his gin, which stood about 150 yards west of the dwelling and south of the road. Wishing to get some directions to Mr. Stephens’ place, we rode around to the front of the gin house and hailed. The first answer we had to our call was the muzzle of a double barrel shotgun being eased around the door facing, followed by as determined looking a face as you ever saw. My father hastily made himself known, and since Mr. Spell had heard of him being on a trade for the property mentioned, he at once assumed an easy attitude, coming down to where we were with gun in hand and a savage looking army dragoon pistol hung to his belt.

“He welcomed us cordially and invited us to spend the night with him, it then being about sundown. We would have accepted but were short on time and wanting to see Mr. Stephens, who lived one mile due south of Spell’s home.

“After getting directions we proceeded to Stephens’ place. As we approached the place we saw Stephens feeding his stock in a large trough out in the open. The moment he saw us, he left his basket and ran behind the crib. My father rode up to the draw bars and hailed him by name; he very reluctantly and very slowly came out and seemed much relieved when he found who we were, and immediately gave us a cordial invitation to spend the night, which we with equal cordiality accepted.

“We unsaddled our horses, fed them, and proceeded to the house with Stephens going a little in advance to apprise his wife of our presence and who we were.

“Mrs. Stephens, being relieved in finding we were civilians on a peaceful mission, prepared to give us a good supper of homemade fried ham and eggs, fried sweet potatoes, some cold turnips and the fattest, sweetest biscuits and splendid hard butter, coffee and milk.

“We are in the kitchen which was located some 15 feet from the main house with a platform running between them. The kitchen had only one door, on the side next to the main building, and one small window with wooden shutters by the chimney. In this room the cooking the dining were done, and there was also a bed for the use of visitors.

“After supper, like all early settlers, Mr. and Mrs. Stephens tried to make themselves as agreeable as possible, and in the run of conversation gave us a graphic description of the lawlessness of Cullen Baker and his crowd. This was only a few days after Baker and his lieutenant, Kirby, had been killed, and we learned from Stephens that Lee Rames, another of Baker’s men, had sworn vengeance and that all the men who had opposed him and Baker or had taken any part in hunting them were not sleeping in their homes for fear of the same fate as that of Jim Salmon whom I mentioned in an earlier article. This was the reason we found Spell on the lookout and also was why he dodged us at the lot.

“Their narratives were blood curdling, and when we retired about 9:30, my hair was standing on end, especially when Stephens told us he would not be surprised to have a visitation from Rames and his band before morning and that he had been sleeping in outhouses himself as a precaution and that on one, since Baker and Kirby had been killed, expected any quarter.

“We retired to the kitchen, I admit, owing to the state of my nerves, every little noise was ominous to me and increased the tension of my nerves. I had been married only about a month, and I lamented the possibility of my young wife being left a widow so soon. From what Mr. Stephens had told us I felt if Rames and his band of desperadoes were to call, my father and I would share a common fate with Stephens.

“However, I finally dozed off, only to be aroused by the screams of Mrs. Stephens pleading and praying for the life of her husband and lamenting his awful doom. As I sat up in bed, somewhat dazed but worse scared, I heard a man call to Stephens to open the door, that they had come for him and there was no use making trouble. I heard Stephens reply that he would die first.

“Oh, how I wished that I was at home with my sweet young wife! Anyhow, I felt we were up against a knotty proposition. I woke my father, cautioning him not to make any noise. We dressed, and I peeped through a crack by the door and saw there were 12 or 15 men around the house. All had guns. I saw one climb up by the door of Stephens’ room to where he could look over the plate. He said to Stephens, ‘Old man, you had better put down that gun.’ I heard a noise in the room; it was Stephens trying to shoot and his wife trying to prevent him.

“My father and I felt we would have to act quickly and boldly. He had no arms; I had a very fine English derringer – only one shot between us. So we agreed I was to stand at the door, unlatch it and wait for some of them to open it. I was to make a sure shot and run over my man; father was to follow with a billet of wood which he had secured, and we were to yell, thereby giving them a surprise, and then break for our safety.

“Now, my friend, I was scared – I don’t deny it – because I felt we had no show, or a meager one, against such odds of desperate men, all well-armed. The moon was then about two hours high, although shadows of the dense forest and of the building made it hard to detect. But about this time two or three men came around the house and got on the platform leading to the kitchen, within six feet of us, and they seemed to be consulting. I happened to notice some of them had savers on, and about that time the man nearest me spoke a little loud, seeming to lament Stephens having barred his doors and refusing to surrender, and that he thought the charges amounted to but little.

“I thought I recognized his voice and at once gave all attention. I soon located him, opened the kitchen door, stepped out and spoke to him, calling him by name. He at once recognized me, though he did not know my father. I told him who my father was and asked him the trouble. He told me he had papers for Mr. Stephens, issued by the United States Revenue Department, charging him with being particep criminis in an illicit distillery, now known as moonshining; that the charge against Stephens was hauling and supplying peaches to make brandy and taking pay in brandy, none of which had been stamped; that a cordon of some 15 soldiers, commanded by a lieutenant, had been sent to make the arrest because of the Baker crowd; that Stephens seemed obstinate, refusing to surrender; and that he hated to use harsh measures, but he could not waste time as he had three or four more arrests to make before morning.

“He asked me if I would help. I at once stepped to Mr. Stephens’ door, knocked, told him who I was and who it was wanting him. He opened the door at once, submitting to arrest.

“Now, my friends, there was one happy woman. Mrs. Stephens wrung her hands and cried for joy. And I felt that my dear little wife was saved from widowhood.

“One of the soldiers was taken very sick with cramps. The commanding officer was loath to know what to do. I suggested they leave him with us. We would do the best we could for him. In the meantime, he could be considered in charge of Mr. Stephens. If he was able to travel we would all go to Jefferson next morning. We physicked the soldier and next morning he was able to eat breakfast and travel. By 4 p.m. we landed at Jefferson, all okay.

“Now, my friends, you readily perceive people with weak nerves had no business cruising around here about that time!”