Introduction

 

This article was originally published in the Clarksburg Exponet, Sunday Edition.  I don’t remember who sent me a copy of it, but it was a wonderful discovery.  The article had been copied over several times and was difficult to read due to faded text.  It was in some places unreadable, but with care it was possible to follow the story. It was a  thrilling experience; reading my great uncle’s account of his wartime experiences, some of it in his own words.  Today, it is hard to imagine the hardships he endured in order to survive those cruel months in Andersonville.

I have retyped this story so that family descendants and others may read it and learn about Daniel’s experience.  I have made some corrections to errors that were most obvious to me.  I did not intend to correct each error and have not done so.

Daniel was my great grandfather Jesse Archimotas Lawson’s brother and my great uncle.  He died November 28, 1940 at his daughter Lula’s home at Good Hope.  He would have been 97 years old on the 19th of December, 1940.

 

 

M. Blaire Wilson

Centreville, VA

25 July, 1998

 

 

 

Sunday Exponet, Clarksburg, West Virginia       April 30, 1933

 

VETERAN RECALLS

CONFEDERATE PRISON HORRORS

Daniel B. Lawson

    Stayed 5 Months

       At Andersonville

 

 

Good Hope Man, Now Aged 89, Enlisted With Union Army in 1862.

 

By WILBUR C. MORRISON

 

Outstanding in history for its horrors and infamy, Andersonville prison at Andersonville, Ga., a vil­lage sixty-two miles south of Macon, Ga., is fresh in the mind of Daniel Binnegar Lawson, 89, Union veteran of the Civil war, who lives at the home of his son-in-law and daughter, Mr. and Mrs. Fred S. Smith, of Good Hope.  Lawson spent five months in that notorious prison pen. His description of life there is revolting, however inter­esting from the viewpoint of his­tory,

This Confederate prison was lo­cated on the Central Georgia rail­road near the village of Anderson­ville.  The stockade was originally built, Nelson’s encyclopedia tells us, in the winter of 1863-4 and was first occupied by prisoners in Febr­uary, 1864.  It covered an area of eighteen acres, later increased to twenty-four, and into it the prisoners were turned like cattle, with no shelter, barracks or build­ings of any kind.

 

“Dead Line”

Within the stockade, about twenty feet from the outer walls, was a railing known as the “dead line,” which no prisoner might cross, under pain of death.  The walls of Andersonville stockade were built of hewn pine timbers set on end in the ground and extending upward fourteen feet, with sentry boxes systematically arranged for guard duty.  These boxes were reached from the out­side by use of ladders and were covered for shelter of guards.  The dead line within the walls con­sisted of scantling nailed to posts.  Those found between the dead line and walls were shot by guards without warning.

 

From Box Cars

The prison could be seen a half mile from the railroad station, where prisoners of war were un­loaded from box cars.  The scene was not at all inviting, as the prison and station were surround­ed by a forest of pine, and as pris­oners were marched to the stock­ade, they saw on either side of the road men who stood helpless and lifeless in tattered clothing, their faces and hands blackened and their hair and beard unkept. 

Within ran an ugly, dirty little stream of water highly polluted, with swampy ground on either side as the domestic floor­ing of the prisoners’ open-air abode, with the armament as its only roof.

There was no shade from the broiling summer sun, no screen from the blasting winter wind, no shelter from the storms of both summer and winter and no ref­uge from heat or cold, except the miserable small army tents with which some were blessed.  Truly, not even the forests, which beasts of the field used for self-protec­tion, were at hand for human beings. 

 

Six Square Feet

Into this prison, more than 30,000 men were herded at one time, giving less than six square feet of space to a person. There was no medical attendance within the stockade; food was wholly inadequate and insufficient, and little soap or clothing was issued, and in consequence of such lack of sanitation and attention there were wholesale fatalities.

History tells us the total number of prisoners received at Andersonville was 49,485, of whom 12,461 died, an average of 958 a month or more than thirty daily, during the thirteen months of its existence.
   At the close of the war, Henry Wirty, superintendent of the prison, was tried by a military commission for “murder in violation of the laws of war,” found guilty, and hanged.

 

National Cemetery

The prison site and adjoining graveyard have been made a na­tional cemetery, in which lie the bodies of more than 14,000 Union soldiers.  As a shrine of heroic dead, it draws thousands of vis­itors every year.

“Among the thousands of prisoners,” the veteran recalls, “al­though one can scarcely conceive that there would be any to prey on their fellow sufferers, gangs of thieves existed and life was unsafe in the stockade. These gangs did not hesitate to murder to secure money, and it was simply a hor­rible place. The victims were frequently knocked down at times and beaten into insensibility.”

 

Six Are Hanged

Appeals to the commandant of the prison for protection were met with authority to organize themselves for safety and to punish the offenders. “We instituted our own courts, rounded up the robbers, tried them by jury made up of our own number.  Six men were found guilty, and sentenced to hang.  A scaffold was erected on the hillside and the men were executed.

I remained in our tent while the hanging went on, as I did not want to witness the executions.  When I came out later in the day I saw six bodies suspended in the air, a reminder that there was punishment for offenders even in a Confederate camp.”

 

High Death Rate

Continuing to relate his experi­ences and observations in the deadly prison, the veteran shock­ingly recalls the terrible death rate and unceremonious manner of burying the dead. He says;

“Our comrades were piled several deep in trenches some distance from the stockade with­out coffin or other covering ex­cept the clothing they wore and dirt and stone shoveled into the trenches to cover them.  These ‘graves’ were so shallow as to subject the bodies to prowling animals of the night in search of food.

I helped to carry out Gabriel Divers, a neighbor boy and one of my closest boyhood compan­ions, who was a prison victim.  We came to the place where dead soldiers were being loaded into wagons to be hauled to the burying grounds.  I saw men tak­ing bodies by the head and feet and tossing them up into the wagon as is done with heavy sacks of wheat at a threshing machine, or as men take hold of either end of a log and hurl it onto a wagon.

The wagon beds were long and deep, probably having the capacity of from seventy-five to 100 bushels, each, and were driven by six mules to the wagon.  As the bodies were pitched into the wagon, a man trampled over them and straightened them out so as to get as many as possible in it before starting to the burial trenches, where they were dumped in as if they were car­casses of beasts of the field. The scene was ghoulish.”

 

Men Are Cowed

The prisoners were thoroughly cowed as every precaution was observed by the prison authorities to prevent escape and mutiny, of which there was in truth, little possibility because of the lack of vitality of the inmates who barely existed for want of food and many of whom died of starvation, as well as of disease brought on by lack of the necessary food to prolong life. Lawson illustrates this watch­fulness on the part of the authorities and describes the extreme measures sometimes taken saying: “Oftentimes when fresh prisoners were brought in the prisoners gathered around them to learn such news as they had of the progress of the war. These groups so alarmed the prison guards and Stockade authorities that canon were fired over our heads to disperse us.  Not knowing how soon the aim might be changed to include us within range of the deadly balls, we soon scattered for safety, after threats had been shouted: “We will blow your brains out, if you do not scatter!’

Barter and trade were carried on among the prisoners, and as some of the soldiers had money they purchased items of food or other articles from itinerant venders at rather fancy prices.  For instance, they paid $1 a pint for wheat flour, fifteen cents a pint for corn meal, $1.50 a bar for soap, fifty cents for an apple or peach, and seventy-five cents for an onion, Lawson says. These prices were based on payment in Confederate money with the rate of exchange $50 of Confederate money for $1 of federal money, and thus prices were not so fancy after all.

 

Not Much Snap

Soap bills were not exceedingly high for the Confederate government, as it was issued once only in every three or four weeks.  It was used mainly to remove from the skin coloring of pine smoke which grimed the faces and hands of the inmates.

Newly cleared, the prison grounds contained many stumps of trees. At first the tops of trees were used for fuel and later the stumps themselves along with their roots.  Scanty meals were prepared over fires in holes in the ground.  A prisoner was lucky, indeed, whose quarters contained a tree stump, as he used it not only for his own fuel, but sold fuel from it to fellow prisoners.

 

Suffering

Speaking of the crowded condi­tions of the stockade and the lack of accommodations there, Lawson gives a vivid description of the ex­posure of the inmates to weather conditions and of the terrible man­ner of living to which they were subjected. The situation is almost inconceivable in these days of humanitarian consideration of per­sons so unfortunate as to be imprisoned.  But, as Sherman said, “War is hell.” Lawson declares:

“The first night I spent in the prison, I went in at night, while it was very dark and raining.  I lay on the wet ground that night with only a blanket for a cover­ing, finally went to sleep in the rain and  slept until morning.  I then came in contact with Gabriel Drivers, who was occupying a tent intended for two, but be­ing used by four, and they crowded me in, too.  Some of these tents were so overcrowded that many died in them.    In our tent, we had to sleep in fishing hook fashion, and when one of us turned over all had to turn.  We lay on the hard ground with nothing but the tent canvas and our wearing apparel to protect us from cold and rain.  It was not very long until our clothing became filthy and ragged, and shortly we found ourselves battling “gray backs” with our fingernails.  They were sucking away what little blood we had, which was being rapidly lessened by lack of food. Our misery was indescribable, and death was welcomed by many a poor, discouraged soul as a much-desired relief.”

Little rest was found on their hard earth bed, and when Lawson became emaciated through illness and starvation, the skin became worn off his hipbones as the result of being compelled to lie in one position so constantly, and the physical torture was severe.

Corn Meal Mush

“We did not have much to eat,’’ he says. “Our principal food was a kind of mush we made out of coarse corn meal. We were sup­plied with quart tin cups with bails to them.  We dug roots out of the ground, where old stumps stood, dried them and managed to make a weak fire over which we made our mush without seasoning, unless we were fortunate enough to have a little salt, which was so scarce as to command unreasonable prices.”

Besides the scant daily ration of corn meal, the menu at times in­cluded a small slice of bacon to break the monotony of meals.  Often times prisoners were so famish­ed that they ate the bacon raw, but usually they cooked it on flat stones.

 

Expensive Salt

“Luckily, I had $2 in Wheeling money”, the veteran declares, “cur­rency issued by the Wheeling bank before the banking system was changed, and I spent most of it for salt, paying as high as twenty-five cents for a teaspoonful.  Of course, I used it sparingly.  I did not know how long I would have need for salt there, as I had no idea when the war would end or when I would be released, if ever.”

“Neighborhood traders and ped­dlers were permitted to come into the prison and solicit sale of their wares, and it was from of them I bought salt. They were eager to accept United States money at its face value, but with them Confed­erate money was rated as prac­tically worthless. They made no objection to the Wheeling money as under federal laws it was lawful money then in the United States.”

 

Good drinking Water

Providence seems to have inter­vened in suddenly providing an ample supply of pure drinking some time after Lawson had entered the prison, and he referred to it as a highly welcome miracle, as the prisoners had been compelled to drink stagnant and pol­luted water from a rivulet on the grounds, causing many diarrhea, from which thousands died.

“One day,” he says, “a great stream of water burst forth from the earth incline near a dead line, and came out in such a gushing current that we were enabled by attaching the vessel to a pole to fill a two and one-half gallon pail in a single minute from the spout. We lined up in rows of seventy-five to obtain pure water from the fabulous fountain which never exhausted itself.  It was a godsend.”

 

Weakened

 “Pure water, however, did not altogether make up for the lack of sufficient food, and I became so weak physically from prison diarrhea that I could not carry a pail of water from the stream to our tent without resting several times on the way.”

Daniel B. Lawson was enrolled in the military service of his country in August, 1862, at the old Hebron  church at Berlin and served until the end of the war except when in southern prisons.

As a volunteer, Lawson became a member of Company D, Fifteenth West Virginia volunteer in­fantry. The company was organized in September, 1862, with Maxwell McCaslin colonel and Thomas Morris lieutenant colonel. The former was commissioned colonel December 4, 1862, and resigned September 7, 1864.  He was suc­ceeded by Milton Wells, who had served as lieutenant colonel from August 4, 1862, having been pro­moted October 16, 1862, from the rank of major.  Wells received his promotion to lieutenant colonel, following the death of Morris in battle at Snicker’s Ferry, Va., July 18, 1864.  Wells was honorably discharged from service April 6, 1865, because of disability from wounds received in action.

 

Company Captains

Jasper Peterson was captain of Company D at the time of its formation, having been commis­sioned September 6, 1862. He re­signed October 23, 1863, and was succeeded by William J. Nicoles as captain October 27, 1863, being promoted from the rank of first lieutenant to which he was commissioned September 4, 1802. Nicoles remained captain of the company until it was mustered out June 14, 1865 at Richmond, Va.

The company went to Wheeling, where it was outfitted on Wheeling island, and from there went to guard the Baltimore and Ohio rail­road bridge across the Great Cacapon river in the eastern part of the state and spent the winter there in shanties built from logs from the surrounding woods, which its members cut and prepared for use. These shanties, eighteen by twenty feet, each accommodated twenty-five to thirty men each.

 

To Intercept Lee

Deployed in spring and early summer of 1863, the company moved along the border of West Virginia, Maryland and Pennsylvania and at the time the battle at Gettysburg was fought in early June, was in the vicinity of Piedmont and New Creek south of Keyser. It was directed to march to Hancock, Md. to Intercept Lee’s army in retreat, from its Gettysburg defeat.

On this march without rest or sleep for two days, Lawson became so exhausted that he fell by the wayside just before the company had reached its objective point.  With the remark, ‘Boys, I can’t go any farther,” Lawson climbed on a bank by the roadside, wrapped himself in his army blanket to protect himself from rain which was falling heavily, laid down on the wet ground and knew nothing more until he awoke next morning, when he learned that had he held out a little longer, he would have reached the place of encampment, located with sight down the valley.

James Swisher’s Death

James W. Swisher, a brother of Mrs. Lawson whom Lawson had not yet married, suffered fatal injuries in an accident on the opposite side of the highway as Lawson slept but the latter did not learn about it until afterwards.  Swisher, a private in Company E, First West Virginia light infantry was injured when the caisson he was riding ran over a bank and upset.  He died a few days thereafter and was buried in the soldiers’ cemetery at Hancock, Md.

After Lee had succeeded in escaping into the valley of Virginia and pursuit was given up some time later, the company returned to the shanties at Great Cacapon and spent the winter here.  When spring came the company proceeded to Wheeling and went down the Ohio river by boat to the mouth of the Great Kanawha river and ascended it as far as it was navigable. Then marching under Gen. George Cook, the company with other army units encountered Confederates forces under Gen. Albert C. Jenkins on the slopes of Cloyd mountain near the boundary line between Giles and Pulaski counties, where one of the fiercest battle of the war was fought, with 8000 men engaged, of whom 800 Union and 400 Confederate soldiers were either killed or wounded, the loss being proportionately heavier than on any other field of the war. Defeated, the Confederates retreated toward Droop Mountain.

 

General Dies

Gen. Jenkins was wounded on the field of battle and was borne to the residence of David Cloyd close by, where a Federal army surgeon amputated an arm at the shoulder.  It was in vain, as Jenkins died shortly afterwards.  His body was taken through the lines and buried in the family graveyard on Jenkins Bottom in Cabel County.

The Cloyd Mountain battle was fought May 9, 1864, and was part of what is known as the Dublin raid. The company and division then crossed over into Virginia, where, May 10, it engaged in battle at New Bridge; next at Middle Brook, June 11; and at Lynchburg, Va., June 18, l864, where Lawson was captured.

 

Armies Near Each Other

At Lynchburg, Company D encamped in a grove in the rear of a church on the edge of woodland so near the enemy that the sentries of the opposing forces were visible to one another.  The Union army was about 500 feet from the Confederate breastworks, Lawson recalls.

Taken violently ill of cholera morbus as the company lay in camp for the night, Lawson was scarcely conscious of the commotion around him, he says.  With permission of his captain, he started to the rear, but as the guard declined to let him pass, he retired into the woods, where he lay all day and the following night without food or attention. However he heard the sound of battle and later learned that his company, hard pressed, had left the battlefield during the night.

 

Surrender to Rebels

Forgotten in the battle, Lawson lay among the trees two nights and a day with nothing to eat and little water in his canteen.  Two Confederate soldiers appeared in the woodlands about 10 o’clock the morning, but did not see him until he spoke to them.  He says he could have shot at least one them but in his weakened condition, he made no attempt even to hide or escape.

The Rebel soldiers took him to the provost guard and he with sixty other prisoners were sent on a railroad trip of 1,200 miles to the Andersonville prison, herded in a boxcar with a bedding of straw on its floor as the only attempt to provide for their comfort.

 

To Savannah

After imprisonment five months at Andersonville, already described, Lawson, with a trainload of other prisoners, was transferred to Savannah, Ga., in box cars a distance of 250 miles, where the water supply was better, but the food supply limited.  The prison there was shelterless and conditions were little better than at Andersonville, he says.  However, the prison was less crowded.  In a measure, he recovered from his illness and gained some strength.

 

 

Prisoners Transferred

Within a few weeks an order came for several companies to leave the prison and Lawson and others thought they were to be exchanged, but were keenly disappointed when told they were to be taken to another prison at Millen, on the Augusta railroad 100 miles north of Savannah.  With about 500 men in line the prisoners were marched out of the prison about 4 o’clock a. m., the darkest hour of night it seemed to Lawson.  As they marched through the unlit streets, Dan marching at the right of this column, an Irish lad at his left tapped him on the shoulder and all but whispered, “let’s get out of here.”  No sooner said than done.  Slipping from the line, they negotiated several cross streets and left the city behind before the break of day.

Shortly after daylight, they attempted to forage sweet potatoes from a field and fled when a man appeared at his cabin door and ordered them out.  Lawson believes he failed to notice their prison dress.  Soon after that, they managed to get a few potatoes, and a friendly Negro supplied them with matches from his home.  Making their way into woods, they built a fire, baked the potatoes and feasted.

 

Woodlands and Swamps

Fearing discovery of their escape and consequent pursuit, perhaps with hounds, they traveled through woodlands and swamps, sleeping in the open on cold October nights, fearful that they might fall prey to wild beasts.  One night the scream of a panther sounded alarmingly near.  Two other fugitives joined them the next morning after Lawson had dreamed there were four men in the party.

Despairing after several days of efforts to reach Atlanta to the north, Lawson and his comrades changed their course, starting toward Popotalico and encountered a free Negro, who was also in hiding so that he would not be drafted into labor service for the Confederate army.  He provided two boats and they went up the river in the direction of his home in South Carolina, nine miles distant, keeping near the riverbank to avoid steamships plying up and down the stream.  They narrowly escaped capsizing at one place and were swept out of their course by the swift current at another point.

 

Betrayed by Cow Herder

Finally, landing them, the Negro, under the pretext of going farther down to his home to get supplies, took the Irish lad with him, telling the other three men to remain there until his return.  A man driving cows came along and told them to go to his house for something to eat.  They had just finished the meal, when the farmer grabbed and cocked his gun and told them they were his prisoners.  In a minute or two, a posse of cavalry rode up, surrounded the house and again they were prisoners.  The cowman had betrayed them.  Lawson and companions had wandered sixteen days and nights among swamps, bogs and forest before their capture.

The captives were returned by rail to Savannah, kept in jail two weeks and then taken with other prisoners to the Mellin prison, where conditions were better than at Andersonville but where death also stalked, as the exposure took heavy toll.

 

Gets Idea

One morning Lawson saw a bulletin posted in the prison, stating that all foreigners who joined the Confederate army would be released from prison.  Believing that the road for his escape not only from prison but also from eventual death, if he remained, Lawson conceived the idea of becoming a Confederate soldier in the hope he might escape from the army and rejoin the Union forces.  After pondering the matter and firmly believing that would be his only method of escape from death in prison, he submitted to physical examination only to be rejected.

Seeing that those who had passed were sent to a section of the grounds where there was a fire around which they were standing to keep warm, Lawson asked and was given permission to go outside the building, where, noticing no special attention was being paid to those around the fire, he joined them, and when the examination ended he was considered as one of the number that had been accepted.  Sent back to Savannah, he donned the uniform of a Confederate soldier as ordered to do.

 

In Island Prison

Sent to the Island of Hope, where there was a well-defended fort, Lawson and other former prisoners, now Rebel soldiers, were abandoned there for three months  (text becomes unreadable) or march northward to escape from the invasion of Sherman and his army on his march to the sea.  They headed toward Richmond, Va., about the first of February 1865, marching through rain and the mud of the lowlands and swamps, but Lawson had recovered normal health and stood in favor with officers, who offered to make him a corporal, but he told them he preferred to remain a private. 

They passed many plantation homes and saw the terrible destruction the war had wrought.  Many were being abandoned hastily in anticipation of Sherman’s coming.  At one place, he remembers, the woman of the house, who was removing the household goods, gave him the “Life of James Bernard Taylor,” and he carried the book on the long march.

 

Tries to Escape

Lawson, bent on escaping from the southern forces and joining Sherman’s army, was ever alert for opportunities on this march, and slipped out of the ranks when passing through timberland at night, but fear overcame him and he found himself running back to get into his place in the line of march.  Not until Fayetteville, N. C. was reached did he again put his determination to leave the Confederate forces behind into execution.  

Sauntering unconcernedly one evening out on an old unused road from camp, Lawson ran across two colored men whom he convinced he was a Union soldier in “wolf’s clothing,” and is was arranged for them to bring him food the next day.  He then returned to camp and the next midnight walked off from camp, met the Negroes in a hidden spot, was supplied with food and for four days concealed himself.

 

Reads His Book

In his quest for more secluded spots, Lawson came to a deep hole in the ground formed by the up rooting of a large tree and took refuge there.  The hole was filled with a bed of leaves, and he passed the time in reading the book which had been given him by the southern lady.  As he lay there famishing, his food supply having been exhausted, two Union soldiers came along on a fallen log which spanned the hollow below, and as he thought they were Confederates, not yet having seen them, he made up his mind to surrender rather than die of starvation.

When the soldiers came in sight, to his great joy, he saw they were Union soldiers.  He thinks they might have passed him unseen, if he had not made his presence known.  After he told them his story, they took him to their camp, under provost guard after assuring him he did right to join the Confederates rather than lie in prison to die.

 

Something To Eat

At the camp he was asked to review his experiences and as he puts it, “they nearly talked me to death.”  They became fully convinced and he was allowed food in moderation until he became stronger.  The soldiers to whom he made himself known gave him a few crackers, the first food he had eaten in many hours.

Lawson was taken to Sherman’s camp the same day and started on toward Grant’s army, of which he was a member when first captured.  He was soon in an engagement which resulted finally in Union victory, and the march was resumed.  At Salisbury, N. C., Lawson was placed on a train by which he traveled to the Atlantic coast and then by boat to Washington, where after again telling his story of adventure, he was duly identified as being among the missing after the Lynchburg engagement.

 

Gets Furlough

Unfit for duty, he was furloughed home for thirty days, and was at home when Lincoln was assassinated.  Lee surrendered at Appomattox before Lawson’s furlough ended, and Lawson’s war service was over.

Lawson’s brother, George, a corporal of the same company, in which Lawson served, had a fore finger shot off, as he fought under Phil Sheridan at the battle of Cedar Creek, where Sheridan turned rout into victory after his famous ride.

Ten of sixteen sons and daughters of William and Nancy Myers Lawson, parents of Daniel, are listed in the 1850 federal census of Lewis County, under date of July 18, that year, namely:     Henry Cornelius, 12 years old; Sarah Rebecca, 11; Edy A., 10; George P., 9; Jesse A., 8; Daniel Binnegar, 7; Clarinda, 5; Elias Miffin4, 4; Dorothy E., 3; and Tacy A., eleven months.

Six other sons and daughters were born after that census was taken, namely; Cecelia, Ira, William, Marian Thomas, Mary Brunette and an infant, who died young.

 

Lawson Twins

Like these of the census list, the latter were all born about a year apart, except Marian Thomas and Mary Brunette, who were twins.  Marian and Mary died when about 12 years old.

Of the sixteen children, only four are living.  Daniel, the sixth member of the family, is the oldest living one.  His two living brothers are Elias Miffin Lawson, of Gaston, whose wife is deceased; and Ira Lawson, of Buckhannon.  The only living sister is Clarinda, of Ripley, widow of Thomas Morris, a Civil war veteran, who died a few years ago at the age of 93 years.  Mrs. Morris is 87 years old.  Elias Miffin Lawson is 86, and Ira Lawson a few years younger.

 

 

 

In Lewis County

George Lawson, a brother of William Lawson and uncle of Daniel B., lived in Lewis County at the time the 1850 census was taken.  His wife, Clarinda, was a year younger.  Their children then were Jacob W., 4; Rebecca, 2; and Cecelia C., nine months.

These were the only two families of Lawsons who lived in Lewis County at the time the census was taken.  Both were listed as farmers.

In early days, especially in 1850, the Lawsons were much more numerous in Harrison than Lewis County, as the census then listed nine Lawson families in Harrison County.

 

Head of Family

William Lawson, 64, farmer, born in Maryland, was at the head of one of the families listed.  His wife, Rebecca, 57, was born in Virginia.  The children of the family as it was then, were Alice, 19; Rebecca, 17; and William, 1.  Older members of the family had married and had families of their own.

Mrs. Mary Lawson was a widow, aged 48, and a native of Virginia.  The only member of her family at home at the time was Benjamin, aged 19.

Abner Lawson, farmer, born in Virginia, was listed at 32 years old; his wife, Magdaline, a native of Virginia, 22 years old; and their two children, Affa R. B., 4; and Almira, 2.

 

Another Lawson Family

Another Lawson family in Harrison County at the time was headed by Cornelius Lawson, farmer and native of Virginia, 36; and his wife, Lovina W., Virginian and 28 years old.  Their sons and daughters in 1850 were George, 14; William, 13; Affa, 12; Matthew, 9; Rebecca, 7; Martin, 5; Martha, 3; and Lucinda, 1.

Elias Lawson, also of Harrison County, was a cooper in 1850.  He was born in Virginia in 1824.  His wife, Deborah, was born in the same year in the same state.  Up to July 3, 1850, they were the parents of two children, Collin A., 2; and William, 1.

 

Farmer From Virginia

An older Elias Lawson listed in the census books of 1850 as a farmer and Virginia, was 45 years old then.  His wife, Elizabeth, was one year older.  Sons and daughters in the same list were: Theophilus, 22; Hannah, 20; Harshel, 18; Rebecca, 16; Henry T., 13; Malvina, 7; and Catherine, no age given.

Elizabeth Lawson, born in Virginia in 1811, was listed as a widow.  Four daughters are listed in her family, namely: Patsy M., 18; Mary, 15; Malissa, 13; and Margaret A., 11.

John Lawson’s family was listed September 4, 1850.  He was a farmer, 24 years old, and a native of Virginia.  His wife, Eliza, was 26 years old, and their daughter, Mary, 6.

 

Keeper of Poor House

When the census was taken in 1850, Joseph L. Lawson, 243, also born in Virginia, was keeper of the County poor house.  His wife, Eveline, was of the same age.  Their children were: Josephine, 3; Harrison, 2; and Albert f., eight months.  Eight inmate of the poor house were listed as follows: 

Henry Sheer, 87, born in Pennsylvania; Mary Sheer, born in Maryland, 66; Peter Lampkin, 64, born in Virginia; Elner Grant, 60, birthplace unknown; Maxon Davis, 40, born in Virginia; Elven Turner, 73, born in New Jersey; Elrod Washburn, 37, born in Kentucky; Jane Murry, 16, born in Virginia; and John Appleby, 8, born in Maryland.

The County poor house at the time was near the present village of Anmoore.

 

Two Scotsmen

Two Scotsmen named Lawson came to America in early days and settled in Maryland and Virginia.  One of the brothers, John Lawson, was the progenitor of the numerous Lawson families in central West Virginia.  He and his family came to Harrison County the early part of the nineteenth century and settled on Beard’s run, a tributary of Simpson’s creek, a few miles from Bridgeport.

Among the Harrison County pioneers were William and Rebecca Grigsby Lawson who settled, lived and died a few miles from Bridgeport.5 The former is said to have been born in 1786 in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia.  He died May 18, 1871, in Harrison County.  His wife, also born in the Shenandoah Valley, July 4, 1793, died June 12, 1877, in Harrison County.  They were married in 18066 and came to Harrison County, where their first child, Dorothy “Dolly” Lawson, was born June 17, 1810.

 

 

 

At Least 10 Children

They were the parents of at least nine other children as follows:

Cornelius Lawson, born January 9, 1813, and lived and died in Harrison County.

Henry Thomas Lawson, born April 4, 1815.

William Lawson, father of the old warrior born March 7, 1816.

Abner Lawson, born April 23, 1819.

George Lawson, born February 23, 1822.

Elias Lawson, born April 22, 1824.

Nancy Lawson, born August 26, 1827.

Ailsey Lawson, born June 10, 1831.

Rebecca Lawson, born June 19, 1833.

 

In Doubt

There is a difference of opinion as to where William Lawson, Sr. And his wife, Rebecca Grigsby Lawson were born.  One version is that he was born at Annapolis (text becomes unreadable)

Frederick County, Maryland.  The father’s name is given as John Lawson.  The date of their marriage is given as October 17, 1809 and the place of marriage as Winchester, Va.

William Lawson, Sr., had a brother, Theophilus, whose son, Elias, born March 5, 1805, in Harrison County, married Elizabeth Teter, a daughter of Joseph Teter, December 20, 1822.  Their son Joseph, born September 19, 1825, died at Berlin November 18, 1884.  Joseph Teter was a Revolutionary soldier.  This Elias Lawson was an exhorter in the Methodist Protestant church sixty years.

 

Other Members

Other members of John Lawson’s family are given as Sauney, Holsey, John, and Nancy who was married to John or Holsy Kelley, and Rebecca.  Theophilus married Rebecca Hancock.

Dorothy “Dolly” Lawson, daughter of William, Sr., was married to John Teter.  They lived and died near the old home.

Cornelius Lawson married first Affa Miller March 25, 1835, and after her death Lovena Ann Nutter August 26, 1810.  He was a Taylor County farmer.  There were four children in the first set and thirteen in the second.  Cornelius Lawson, of Bridgeport, is one of the latter.  The late Lewis C. Lawson, lawyer, was another.

 

A. P. Minister         

Henry Thomas Lawson married Mary Whittier Trussel, of Jackson County, December 14, 1843, and died at Hibbardsville, O., in June, 1880.  He was a Methodist Protestant minister.

Abner Lawson married Magdalene Nutter, daughter of Mathew and Affa Webb Nutter, September 28, 1843, lived and died December 26, 1900, on Beard’s run, Harrison County.  They were the parents of Jesse G. Lawson, of Bridgeport, former County assessor.  Another son is Agrippa N. Lawson, of Simpson district, father of Carl S. Lawson, former County superintendent of schools.

 

Held By Indians

George Lawson married Clarinda L. Cozad, a daughter of Jacob and Mercy Woodyard Cozad, and died in February 1911, at Weston.  Jacob Cozad, along with two brothers, was captured by Indians and later ransomed by his father for $40.  The youngest brother, crying for his mother, was killed by the savages. 

The two brothers who returned from captivity lived on Hacker’s creek until they died. 

George Lawson settled in Lewis County in 1845, along with his brother, William, father of Daniel, the war veteran.  After the death of his wife, he married Elizabeth Morrison, a daughter of William Morrison.  He died December 13, 1911, at Berlin.

 

Weds Nancy Goodwin

Elias Lawson married Nancy J. Goodwin, a daughter of John Goodwin, March 12, 1854, lived and died in Harrison County.

Elias Lawson first married Deborah Day, a daughter of John and Sarah Teter Day, March (?), 1818, and after her death April 20, 1853, at Bridgeport, he married Nancy Jane Goodwin, daughter of John and Sarah Bartlett Goodwin, March 12, 1854.  He died December 31, 1863, at Bridgeport.  The late Collen A. Lawson, of Clarksburg, was one of the first set of children.

Nancy Lawson became the wife of Sylvester Frum, of Simpson creek, in 1844.  She lived and died in the district.

Dies in McWhorter

Ailsey Lawson was the wife of Walter McWhorter.  They were married September 25, 1851, and lived and died where the village of McWhorter is located.  Elias McWhorter of that section is a son.

Rebecca Lawson was married to Joshua Smith, lived and died in Doddridge County.

William Lawson, son of William and father of Daniel B., married Nancy Myers, daughter of William and Nancy Binnegar Myers3, of Harrison County.  He died in 18917 in Lewis County.  She was born in 1820 in Harrison County and died in 19008 in Lewis County.  They were the parents of sixteen sons and daughters, including Daniel B., who was born December 19, 1843, in a little log cabin on Laurel Lick run near Berlin, Lewis County.

 

On Laurel Lick Run

Of the others, Henry Cornelius married Anna Timms.  Sarah Rebecca became the wife of William Probst and lived near Jane Lew.  Edy A. was the wife of Isaac Swisher and lived on Laurel Lick run.  George married Ellen Cutright and lived most of his life after that in Roane County.

Jesse married three times.  His last wife was a Waggy1.  They lived and died near Romine’s Mills, Harrison County.2  Elias Miffin married Ellen Marple.  Tacy was the wife of Dexter Smith and lived on Laurel run.  Cecelia’s husband was Jacob Jackson, of Gaston, Lewis County.  Ira married Ellen Robinson.  She is dead.  Clarinda is the widow of Thomas Morris and lives at Ripley.

 

Resumes Farming

Resuming farming pursuits after the war, Daniel Binnegar Lawson October 26, 1866, married Harriet Jane Swisher, of Lewis County, a daughter of George Washington Swisher and Mary Boram Swisher.  She was born October 9, 1846 and died June 9, 1922 at the family residence in Weston.

Their six sons and daughters, of whom three are living, were born as follows:

Alva Grant, August 6, 1868; Evelyn Estelle, April 8, 1870; Percy Everett, March 27, 1874; Luis Luella, March 23, 1877; Daniel Arthur, June 6, 1879; and Edna Madge, October 7, 1883.  Alva Grant and Edna Madge were born in Lewis County.  The others were born in Upshur County.

Alva Grant Lawson died, single, January 27, 1886, aged 23, in Lewis County.  Evelyn Estelle died January 27, 1886, in Lewis County, aged 16 and single.

 

Scenic Artist

Percy Everett Lawson September 25, 1900, married Gertrude Thrash, a daughter of Benjamin and Martha Bell Thrash, of Harrison County.  They live at San Bernardo, Calif., where he is a scenic artist for the Santa Fe Railroad system and a fruit farmer.  They formerly lived in Jefferson County, O., where he engaged in farming.  They have a married son, Brooks, who has two children; and two daughters, Naomi, who is also married but has no children; and Eva, wife of a Mr. Richeul and has two children.  They all live in California.

Lula Luella Lawson was married June 14, 1905, to Fred H. Smith, of Lost Creek.  He is a son of Joshua E. and Elizabeth A. Martin Smith, who before their deaths lived near Lost Creek and were prominent in their community.  He is prominent in Freemasonry, a representative of agricultural periodicals and an influential Democrat.

 

On Good Hope Farm

Mr. And Mrs. Smith now reside on their farm near Good Hope, where her father makes his home.  They have two daughters and a son, Miss Virginia, Miss Lourelli Lee, and Herbert Dwight Smith.  Miss Virginia Smith is a teacher in the Clarksburg schools.  Miss Lourelli Smith is assistant matron at the West Virginia Industrial Home for Girls, near Salem.

Herbert Dwight Smith married Miss Josephine Currey, a daughter of Haywood and Elva Currey, of Kincheloe creek.  They live at the home of Mr. And Mrs. Smith.  The have no children.

Daniel Arthur Lawson, third son of Daniel B., died June 23, 1879, seventeen days after birth.

 

Operates Garages

Edna Madge Lawson was married in June 1907, to Clarence E. Maxson, of Lewis County, son of James K. Maxson.  They live in Weston, where he operates garages and filling stations.  The Maxsons have two children, James, single and at home; and Melba, wife of King Edward Brohard, a Weston insurance man.  The Brohards have two children, Barbara Jean and Melba Joan, both at home.

The veteran, as a lad, attended school in the proverbial log cabin and learned to spell, read, write and figure.  Francis Taylor, and outstanding educator of the old school, taught him more, he says, than anyone else.  Lawson led the life of the old-time farmer boy, and as soon as he was large and strong enough, he was put to grubbing in clearing for crops.  Later his ax spared not the mighty tree and he soon became renowned as a local chopper.  While he never towered in public life like Abraham Lincoln, he ventures the assertion he split more rails than did the immortal president.

 

Interested in Slavery

As a lad in his teens, Lawson took an interest in neighborhood discussions of slavery and attended militia musters which were held periodically at Jackson’s Mill, rapidly catching the inspiration which caused him to enlist in the service of this country in time of war.  And as an old man approaching the end of mortal life, his patriotism is no less alive than when he proudly wore the uniform of a soldier and participated in battle.  He proudly proclaims his constant allegiance to the Republican party, which placed Lincoln, as he says, at the head of the nation to save and preserve its integrity and honor.

The aged man has been a farmer all his life.  He owned farms at Berlin and on Hacker’s creek and still owns the coal rights under one and the oil, gas and coal rights under the other.  Selling his farms, he bought property in Weston and lived there for two years before the death of his wife there in June 1922.  He lived five years at the home of his son, Percy, when the latter was a resident of Jefferson, O., and assisted the son with farm work.  He spent the winter nine years ago at the home of the son in California and another winter there four years ago.  He likes California very much, he says.  He makes his regular home with Mr. And Mrs. Smith.  He is fond of automobile travel and recently presented the daughter with a new (text becomes unreadable)

 

Seeks to Retire 

While he has retired from active farm life, he has not thrown off the habit, and, nor despite his advanced years, he does lots of farm work, both in the crop fields and in the garden helping to put out the crops, aiding in the cultivation and assisting in the harvest.

Just this winter, like the axman of old, he felled eight large old apple trees in the Smith orchard, chopped them into lengths and burned them, after he had been assisted in rolling them into a heap.  The trees measured twenty-three inches in diameter.  This feat elicited the wonder and admiration of all who saw it.

 

Cares for Cow

Among his daily chores are attending to the poultry, milking two cows, cleaning and mowing the lawn and helping in the kitchen work.  He is, in fact, the handy man about the place.

Glasses are not indispensable with him, as in good light he reads without them.  He uses his eyes, too, as he does much newspaper and magazine reading, keeping himself thoroughly informed.  He loves books.  His hearing is very bad, and that’s all there is bad about him, his folk say.  A man in full control of his nerves, he shaves himself, and does a fine job of it.  He lets the barber cut his hair, and by the way he is not bald, although his silvered hair is thin.  He bought his wide and straight blade razor thirty year ago from a peddler for seventy-five cents, and has used it ever since.  He does his own honing on leather strop mounted on a wooden block.

 

Finely Preserved

Temperate in all things, this near-nonagenarian is finely preserved in body and mind.  He is healthy and strong, active as a cat, keen mentally, and an all-around he man.  He never drank, chewed nor smoked.  He was converted to Christianity more than seventy-five years ago and has been a member of the Methodist Protestant church at Berlin more than seventy-three years.  He attends services at the Good Hope Bethel Methodist Episcopal church, a short walk from the Smith residence.

The reason he is so healthy and active may be the result of his fine appetite, eating without stint what is served on the Smith table, as well as of his habit of going to bed at 8 o’clock at night and getting up a 5 in the morning.  He believes there is nothing like plenty to eat and regular sleep, and he practices what he preaches.

 

“Dry As a Bone”

Discussing the prohibition issue, he emphatically declares, “I am as dry as a bone.”  He had to forego the pleasure and privilege of voting for Lincoln, as he expresses it.  He was in Andersonville prison on election day in 1864.

The veteran is handy with a needle and does his own “sewing,” such as patching and fastening buttons. He makes his own bed and keeps his room in tidy condition.

 

May Live Long Time

There is a lot more that could be said about this remarkable man, but perhaps nothing demonstrates his character better than the fact that his weight, 161 pounds, is exactly what the medical books say is correct for a man five feet, ten inches tall.  That shows he has led the right life.  Keeping it up, as all feel assured he will, the man who so narrowly escaped death in war prison, will live to tell the tale in the second century of his life.

 

Daniel Binnegar Lawson

1843 - 1940

 

Corrections:

1. Jesse was married three times, but Elizabeth Waggy was his first wife.  Melissa Bell, was his second, and Mary Virginia Watson, his third.

2.  Jesse and Elizabeth both died in Lewis County and were buried in Laurel Lick Cemetery, near Berlin, West Virginia.

3. Nancy Jane Myers was the daughter of William Myers and Sarah Jane Binegar.

4.  Elias’ middle name was spelled Mifflin.

5.  William Lawson, Sr. and wife, Rebecca are buried in the old Teter family cemetery on Coplins Run, Harrison County, WV.

6.  Married in 1809

7.  William, Jr. died May 29, 1894

8.  Nancy died March 11, 1899

 

 

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