Gen. James Patton Anderson Camp 1599
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His return route to make it took him through Walker County in northwest Georgia where he worked for food and lodging at the few farms and settlements through which he passed. One Walker County farmstead at which Albert Smith stopped was near the small community of Chestnut Hill. It belonged to a man named Hugh McMullan, whose father came from Ireland before the war of 1812 to support the American cause. McMullan immediately took a liking to the young man, who was, by then, almost exhausted from his travels. McMullen asked Smith to stay as long as he liked while he recuperated. After learning that Alfred had a better than average education, he suggested that the young man try his luck as a teacher and that he remain in the area. There was not, at that time, a school at which the McMullan’s children Frank (age 7), Martha Ann (five), Milton (two), and Eugene (one) would be able to attend. Having no agenda other than returning home to Macon, Alfred accepted that suggestion and boarded with the McMullen family until he could begin his school. During that period, Hugh McMullen became almost like a father to the young man. Smith’s classes, which offered a general curriculum with a specialty in music, crew quickly and the young man prospered.
Young Frank McMullen, Alfred Smith’s first student, was only a few years younger than the budding educator, and the two became fast friends as well as teacher and student. When Hugh McMullen decided in 1844 that it was time to move to Mississippi and a new frontier, the parting of Frank and Alfred was painful. They were determined not to let distance end their friendship, however, and they continued to correspond over the years. By 1853 the McMullan’s settled on new land in Hill County, Texas, but the bond between the families were as strong as ever, although they were hundreds of miles apart. The letters to Smith from the McMullen family in Texas were full of praise for the new frontier and the teacher was encouraged to come to the new state. When, in 1856, Hugh McMullen offered him a Homestead in Hill County, Smith could resist the temptation no longer,. He moved to the community of Spring Hill, Navarro County, with his wife, Sarah, five sons, and one daughter.
When the clouds of war began to gather in 1860, Smith, like McMullan, supported the side of the South. According to Ballona Smith Ferguson, in her 1935 account, Alfred Smith was ”a staunch secessionist and of southern principles to the backbone. Never owned a Negro in his life, but believed in states rights; therefore he could not make up his mind to submit to Yankee mule.” Smith soon joined the Confederate Army, and he was stationed at Galveston, where he served as a bugler for his company. He never fought in a major battle but was involved in a ”few skirmishes,” before the conflict ended and the threat of Reconstruction loomed on the horizon. Like many other Southerners, Smith was extremely displeased with the state of affairs after the Civil War. According to Ballona’s account, her father had ”a premonition of the reconstruction horrors that followed Yankee rule,” and he decided to take his family to Mexico. However, when Frank McMullan outlined plans to emigrate to Brazil, Smith changed his mind and decided to accompany his old friend to South America. According to one account, McMullan is said to have made the following appeal to Smith: ” Don’t run away…(To Mexico) until I tell you about the real South -- the new land under the Southern Cross where a gentleman is treated like a gentleman and there are thousands of rich acres waiting for us progressive farmers. I tell you we are going to empty the Old South for the Yankees, let them have it if they think they know how to run it better than we did. I’m taking my family to Brazil, the Empire of freedom and plenty.” Sarah Ballona wrote that the decision of her father to follow Frank was instantaneous and that ”he’d follow Frank to the end of the world and die for him if need be. And Frank was truly worthy of their devotion.” The rest is history. The Smith’s did go with Frank McMullen to Brazil and had an adventure that few persons ever have the opportunity to experience.
Albert Iverson Smith
Albert. was the patriarch of a large family that immigrated to Brazil after the Civil War with the McMullan colony, and was born near Macon, Georgia. His grandparents were Huguenots who escaped to the United States after persecution of the religious sect began in their native France. The grandfather was Robert Ferrer. When he immigrated to America, he changed his name and went under the alias of John Smith. The reason for the name change is not clear but it was not all that uncommon among early immigrants fleeing persecution.
The family first settled in South Carolina but moved after the American Revolution to the area around Macon, where over the years maybe they became relatively wealthy as farmers. Although raised on the farm, young Alfred decided that his future was to be something other than an agri-culturalist, and in the early 1840's he left for Alabama to search for his star. Less than 14 years old at the time, Smith’s efforts in making a living were not as successful as he might have liked, and it was not long before he decided to return home to wait for a more fortuitous time to pursue his new career.
The Sarah Ballona Smith Ferguson Narrative
Edited by Cyrus B. Does the and James him. Does he
“The American Colonies Emigrating to Brazil – 1865”
by Mrs. (Sarah Ballona Smith) Turner Ferguson
Strange to say, I have been just lately asked by several persons and acquaintances, both old and new friends, to give an account of the Southern families who emigrated to Brazil soon after the Civil War. It is a pleasing task, but almost too much for one whose memory is again by the many passing years. But having a willing mind and realizing how few of us now remain to tell the story, I shall endeavor to do so by following my childhood mem-ories and a few notes previously written to refresh my failing memory.
There were at least three other colonies besides Mr. McMullan’s which came from the Southern States soon after general Robert E. Lee surrendered to Grant at Appomattox in 1865. I should say ”so-called colonies” for I do not think any of them succeeded in getting rated as genuine, properly organized colonies. One of these was the Gaston-Meriwether colony. This one landed at Santos and found homes near Santa Barbara, District of Campinas. (The colonists) bought land independently from the fazendeiros (planters) and were in no way bound by colony authority. Another was led by Ballard S. Dunn, destined to settle on the Juquia, but only a few of these people ever reached the Lizzieland, as Dunn had named his new projected homeland in honor of his wife, whose death caused the failure of the enterprise. Then there was Tarver’s colony who went to the Rio Doce. Quite a lot of them, but after a few years they broke up. Some returned to the States – others drifted to Santa Barbara, which had gradually become the nucleus of the American people in Brazil and is now known as the Americana. There have been many mistaken impressions regarding these Southern immigrants, so I shall confine myself strictly to personal knowledge of the matter.
Frank McMullan -- Bowen Colony.
One writer speaking of these emigrants said “a number of hotheaded secessionist, rather than take the oath of allegiance” etc. Now I do not think them hotheaded, but brave- hearted hero(e)s. These high-toned gentleman -- ex-Confederate soldiers -- were not influenced by “appointed agents of a social club,” as a late writer states, nor were they in any way connected with a society founded for that purpose. On the contrary, the emigration was an independent move on the part of the individual.
Neither were our fathers needled into the movement. My dad, for instance, had already sold out to go to Mex-ico, having a premonition of the reconstruction horrors that followed Yankee rule when Mr. Frank McMullan came along with his proposition to head for Brazil. I was only 10 years old, but remember it perfectly.
McMullan and Bowen.
In 1865, Bowen and McMullan, disappointed and sore over the “lost cause” and finally resolved never to submit to ("negro" ) rulers appointed by the Yanks, struck out to find a home for themselves and families. After traveling extensively over South America, especially Brazil, they reached the city of Iguape in the province de São Paulo, as the state was then called. From the government and especially favored by Don Pedro II, they secured a grant of land of size sufficient for a colony on the headwaters of the Juquia, a tributary of the Ribeira, beyond the section selected by Dunn. This grant of land comprised a part of three small rivers -- the Azeite, Rio do Peixe, the Guanhanha- and a small creek, the Areado.
McMullan immediately returned to Texas, leaving Col. Bowen to make preparations for the colony. Bowen married a Brazilian lady, Capitao.(Captain) Martin’s daughter, whose home was on the banks of the Juquia. There, Bowen lived and superintended the construction of a palm covered ranch, large enough to house the colonists for the time needed to select their own land and build for themselves.
Now, I must take my reader to Texas. But know that the full story of our experience will never be told, for those who knew it best have long since gone to rest. It may be of interest to remark, by way of contrast between the present in olden times, that when we left our home. Spring Hill, Navarro County Texas, we traveled in an old dachshund covered wagon. This was in 1865, November 9. The nearest railroad station at that time was Mil-lican. It took two weeks to make the journey. Of course we had a tent and camped out every night on the open prairie. We children thought it great fun, a jolly picnic, and exciting experience remembered with pleasure till this day.
Before he reached Millican we were joined by Mr. Green, another colonists, with his family, traveling as we were in a wagon and surrey, all drawn by horses -- his family, himself, three daughters and three sons, whose descendants still live in around São Paulo. Long may they flourish, for their never was a better man than old man Greene. At Millican, both families -- those of Mr. Greene and A. I. Smith, my father-- camped in the sub-urbs for several days. (Then) several other families came up: Mr. Jess Wright, old man Garner and widowed daughter, and the Cooks. For the sake of economy, they all joined in and chartered a freight car into which they loaded baggage, wives, and children with little room and no comfort for a long, en-route for Houston -- our first experience of writing on a rail. We rested about our at Houston. Then all aboard again for Galveston-- a bitter, cold all-night ride, and most disagreeable, with little sleep, just any the old way on the baggage. Just imagine!
Just a at daylight we got the first view of Galveston City and were delighted at the beautiful bay and its many ships at anchor, the first we had ever seen, looking like a denuded forest, while the old engine bell clanged in its noisy way, ding-dong, and whistled into the station. As the sun rose, we disembarked and all bewildered found a little shabby eating place, where we got coffee and bread for the children, while the fathers bustled around and soon found the camp where most of the colonists had already congregated. Our tents were soon up, and then we began a long wait for others who for one reason or another were delayed. The McKnight brothers ar-rived about this time -- Mr. Calvin McKnight with his new son. His birthday delayed them two weeks.
Misfortune dogged us from the first and kept us in Galveston two months or more. The ship on which we finally embarked was an old dilapidated brig. Called brig Derby, captained by one Alexander Causse. The vessel had to be repaired and provisioned, and then just as all was ready to sail the Yanks seized the brig to present the southern rebels escaping. Nor that they would let us go until a heavy fine was paid, which nearly exhausted our resources. There are some who think our people were on a charity basis, but it was not so, for each one paid his quota, and paid heavily.
On looking back now, one wonders why sensible man with such a crowd of helpless women and children should undertake such a hazardous venture as crossing the great ocean in a sailing ship! The only excuse I can find is that sailing vessels had made the voyage successfully; and brigs were still used in those days. One thing is sure: are ship tacked along in the Gulf of Mexico, and though we sailed on 22 of January 1866, we did not come in sight of Cuba until the evening of February 25. We were to have put in at Havana for freshwater and fruits. On February 25 the day was calm, weather clear and bright. Most of us had got over seasickness, and what ever the old folks feared, the youngsters were having the time of their lives. The afternoon was still clear and beautiful. In the distance were seen two white-sailed ships, and a great whale lay in full view basking on the still waters. Then a sudden gale struck from the north about nightfall. The fury of the storm came on after dark, a great flood of water pouring over the deck, and down the hatch-way, filling the lower deck ankle-deep. And here came Parson Quillen, shaking his head, saying, "Oh, we are gone up, gone up!" Scared? There is no name for it!
The Captain was an Americanized Spaniard. We learned afterward that he had been bribed by the Yankees to wreck the vessel somewhere on the coast, and that was why he had never sailed out to sea. Soon after the storm began, he tied up the helm and retired to his cabin, leaving that whole crowd to the mercy of the waves and storm. When the trick was discovered, McMullan, Judge Dyer and other resolute man entered the cabin and at the point of a six shooter forced the captain to loose the helm. He immediately called on the sailors to cut away the mast, which our men, pistols in hand, prevented.
But it was too late then to steer the ship out to sea for safety. Our own men and boys had managed the pumps during the night, for the fury of the waves kept the deck filled with water. Besides, the ship sprung a leak which required more than the sailors could handle. About two hours before daybreak the ship struck the rocks. The wind and waves drover her forward over one ridge after another until after drifting about two hundred yards, she settled into a kind of trough of rocks beyond the depth where the waves could do nothing but batter the ves-sel back and forth like a cradle, rocked on the bosom of the deep," whilst we waited in fear into daylight re-vealed the green shores of the island of Cuba. The storm, though somewhat abated, still heaved the ship to and fro. And the breakers dashing onword to the sandy beach seemed to forbid our ever reaching safety.
The Captain, now with smiling face and cheering words, knew a thing or two. He and the sailors somehow arranged the ropes and began to lower the people one by one -- secured by ropes around her waist, like des-cending a well. First went two sailors who loosed the passengers from the ropes as they reached the rocks. Then each (person) must look out for ( him)self by jumps from boulder to boulder, onto the shore beyond the foam-ing water. Sufficient hands were let down first to help the women and children crossing over, it being a dan-gerous feat for even a strong man. Advantage was taken while the brig lay on the the lee. Captain Causse seemed to want to make up for his previous behavior by doing all that could be done to save the people. It is to his credit that all were saved. One daring feat deserves mentioned. In order to save a baby he took the sleeves of her coat in his teeth and thus with free hands he climbed down the rope and delivered her to her father. This I saw myself.
To describe our feeling or paint the scene is beyond our power. From the shore we looked back at the old brig and saw the great gaping hole in her side, from which the baggage and provisions were gradually washed out to sea -- some of which was recovered. We heard afterward that the two other vessels seen the eve before had not been so fortunate. Most of the passengers they carried were lost. One wreck was on the eastern extremity of the island of Cuba-- with no dwellings in sight on a desolate shore. However, some natives living further inland soon appeared. Also some of our men went scouring around, and before midday a rich Cuban came to our res-cue.
A Kind Act.
This was Don Vermey, a prosperous brick and tile maker. He kindly sent oxcarts driven by cootie slaves to convey the whole crowd to his extensive fazenda (estate). His house was a great building, large enough to house our whole people, and in this we took shelter for two days and were fed at his expense until our own supplies, baggage, and tents were brought from the wreck. Many of our goods were lost, but the breakers washed many boxes and barrels back to the shore, though out among the shoulder, where with much difficulties and risk our men managed to salvage most of the wreckage. So once more the tents were raised and another anxious wait began The Don supplied potatoes, manioc roots, and had an extra bullock killed twice a week.
Mr. McMullan had hastened to Havana but, not finding a ship there, sailed on to New York to get a steamer to take the colony to Brazil. This took some time, and whilst waiting his return, many excursions were made exploring the country and enjoying the strange plants, etc., Observing and becoming acquainted with queer customs of the people. We saw the great sugar mills and vast cane fields worked by negro slaves. It was amusing to see the pickaninnies, stark naked playing in the hot sunshine. Here we learned a new wrinkle about sugar: how it was made, and where loaf sugar came from, and why white sugar (called loaf sugar in those days) had that shape. But (we) were shocked to see the common brown sugar spread out on dry ground to dry with bare-footed negroes walking over (it) and stirring it up with long wooden scrapers-- like old-style coffee drying in Brazil. How different sugar is made these days. But then, what we saw was considered up-to-date and won-derful.
At last came word to set out for Havana in time to catch the steamer for New York. Again it was oxcarts-- and only a few could go at a time-- so that it was some days before all reached the railroad station. (We) traveled all night over the worst roads imaginable, driven by coolies whose queer call to the oxen was so-triste (sad). And what with the jolts, even a child could not sleep! But just before we were "kilt entirely'" the day dawned and found us at Woanahi, were after a day's wait, all took the train for Havana. On that trip most all day we saw bananas and more bananas. While at Woanahi somebody offered food to the poor shipwrecked crowd, but in the raw. Who was going to do the cooking? When no one offered, my dad rolled up his sleeves and went to work. And in great pots, put out in the open square, he cooked beans, rice, meat, and potatoes and only one boy, Luis Greene, offered to help. Mother want to help, but dad sent her back. But when eating time came, all were there-- you bet, such as human nature.
We got to Havana before the steamer arrived and were sheltered for a week or more in a large car-shed. Our plight attracted the Sisters of Charity who brought gifts of shoes, stockings, cloth for dresses, and many other useful articles. To my mind, there are no finer people that the Cubans-- cultured, friendly, given to hospitality, beautiful ladies and handsome gents, especially attentive to children, sometimes teasing us, sometimes treating us to candy, etc. Though not understanding a word, their smiles and kind faces won our confidence, and we would trot along to the store, happy and fearless. One gentleman living near the car-shed had invited a party of us and our mothers to a breakfast, which was much enjoyed. Then, as we were leaving, the man followed us, singled me out, and gave me a handsome gold ring, and said "my wife gave that to you," in perfect English.
Many such incidents would fill this page, but now we must hurry on to New York, this time on the ship Mariposa, a side-wheeler-steamer, on the 10th of March, 1866. Owing to a storm we were again delayed and the Captain cast anchor here the island were Jeff Davis, ex-president of the Confederacy, was then imprisoned. After starting again, we soon struck the cold zone of the North, and suffered intensely. Some had their toes frostbitten. Then came on an awful fog. The whistled must have had had a bad cold, for it made the most doleful sounds all night. Even so, we came near having another catastrophe, barely escaping the collision with another steamer on the high seas. All this made is too late for the regular steamers from New York to Rio.
Consequently, we had to wait a month in New York for the next. We were housed (t)here in a hotel several stories high, where one story could have housed all of us and more. One day, from the top of this hotel, a party of us watched the Great Eastern as it was towed into harbor by a dozen tugboats-- a sight never to be forgotten (for) at that time ("the ship was) the wonder of the world, being the great seven-masted steamer that was built to lay the Atlantic cable. Of course we took the opportunity to see the sites of the great city, of which so much has been said-- a never-failing astonishment to those greenhorns of Texas.
But if New York was a sight to us, we were a ten cent show to the New Yorker, and they certainly enjoyed it. One incident must suffice. Mr. Jess Wright had a crate of half-grown hounds which had followed all the way and shared the difficulties of the journey from Texas, saved even from the wreck. Soon after landing, the crate and hounds were stolen. When the theft was discovered, Mr. Wright was frantic. He was a very large man with a booming voice, and the figure he cut going down the street dressed in Confederate gray with a heavy gray shawl, asking everyone for information may be imagined. Passing a saloon where the thief had hidden, the dogs heard the master's voice and set up a howl. Six shooters in hand, Wright sprung through the door and over the bar, seized the dogs, and marched out in triumph. Everyone in the saloon had ducked out of sight. The dogs finally got to Juquia, grew up, and became the wonder of the people. When they" opened up" you should have been there to hear.
Some church people of New York gave the colony two large boxes of books, which proved a great blessing to us while in that isolated backwoods of Brazil (since we) lost all our books in wreck. The McKnight brothers, Calvin and Steret, paid a visit to their old mother in Pennsylvania, whence they had moved to Texas years before. (They) got back in time to sail with the colony, this time on the North America, one of the new line of steam-wheelers plying between New York and Rio, (and) at that time considered the last notch in steamship navi-gation.
We sailed on 14th April, 1866, and landed at Rio after a pleasant voyage of 32 days. Not a storm or gale distur-bed or voyage. But just as we entered the bay at Rio, a slight collision with a large ship took place. A great hole in our bow threatened to fill the ship. But before the passengers became alarmed, the sailors managed to stop the hole by letting down a heavy sailcloth (and) so we sailed on to safety. In Rio we were on housed in a big hotel to which we had to climb a long line of steps. By previous arrangement, this hotel had been assigned to the colonies by the good Dom Pedro II, who not only encouraged (the) emigration of foreigners but who contri-buted much toward the expense-- also taking personal interest in all who came to his beloved Brazil. There were already many Americans in the hotel when we got there, besides many who were on the North America with us. (There were) independent Southern people from Georgia and South Carolina. Of these, I remember Dr. Gaston and family, old Parson Pyles and family, the Seawrights, and Messrs. Burton, Minchom, Buford and Rowe.. These all settled near Santa Barbara. Mr. Dunn and some of his colony were at this hotel; also, others who had preceded us.
Then, here came the Emperor himself to visit his people. (He) came in and state, followed by great crowds of people filling the streets. We can see, from the hotel yard, shooting up skyrockets, etc. The American’s rent the inn with "three cheers" threw hats in the air, and all that kind of stuff to beat the band. Then the old Emperor inspected the hotel from top to bottom. He entered the dining room, even tasted the food to satisfy himself that all was right. How few today give the old Dom credit for his foresight in bringing foreigners in to develop Brazil, realizing as he did, that the riches here lying dormant would never be developed by the natives. The outcome has proved his wisdom. It was Don Pedro II who set the wheels rolling that (are) making Brazil--now fast becoming the richest and most powerful nation of the world.
We had about five days in Rio, plenty of time to see the principal sites, the gardens and avenues famed the world over. Almost too soon we put out again on board the Marion for Santos.
Here, many other Americans disembarked, while our colony proceeded down the coast to the city of Iguape, the long looked for end of our journey. But not so to be, for it took several weeks before we could ascend the rivers to the government ranch on the Juquia,, as herein before mentioned. There had been some dissatisfaction among the people for some time. Mr. Nettles had left us at Norfolk, Virginia. The McKnight brothers remained in Rio because the eldest daughter was sick. She died there. Afterwards they came on, and finally came to Santa Barbara. It was Calvin McKnight who taught the Americans how to make pinga direct(ly ) from cane juice-- up to then, Brazilians made. pinga from molasses, dripping from sugar making-- thus making it a paying business. And until the price went down much money was made by the cane planters of Villa Americana.. Parson Rat-cliffe and wife never reached that government ranch on the Juquia, nor Mr. Weingeutter. Both somehow went on to Santa Barbara before any of the others got there.
Most of us stuck together (un)til Frank McMullan’s death led to the breaking up of the colony. Frank was a fine character, highly esteemed by all, and by his death we lost not only our leader but a personal friend. His uncle, old Judge Dyer, a very hard, overbearing man was the cause of the dissatisfaction, first, last, and always. And we felt desolate indeed when McMullan was gone from us forever. They took his remains down the river to bury him in the city of Iguape. One of Frank’s sisters, Mrs. O’Dell, soon followed him to the grave. His mother and younger brother Ney returned to Santos, (then) settled in Campinas, and finally went back to the States. Dr. Moore and wife, Frank’s sister and brother-in-law also lived for a while in Campinas, and afterward to Santa Barbara, where he practiced dentistry and taught his profession to others who also made a commendable suc-cess of it.
It is just as well to say (that) we stayed at that shack on the Juquiat quite two months. And while there we were fed by the government-- had a commissary And drew rations every Saturday like soldiers in camp. After Mc-Mullan’s death it was every man for himself. Some returned to the States at once, but about a dozen families went on up the river and founded homes, some on the Rio do Peixe, others on the Guanhanha, while Smith, Tarver and Bowen settled on the Areado. Our trip up the river from Iguape, and subsequent life of three years in the wild woods there, make another story.
The Colonists trip up the Rivers.
Perhaps I should mention that our ship the Marion got into the waters at the mouth of the Ribeira at low tide and rammed her nose into the mud on (a) sandbar out a ways from the city. So we had to wait for high tide, but at last we landed safely. After so many accidents our people were a tired out set, and long together made us almost hate each other. But no serious quarrel happened among us.
The heads of our colony hurried up the river to Col. Bowen’s and the rest of us took shelter as best we could in a large empty house. Some Camped on the street. The first day, while my mother was cooking out in the street, a nice Brazilian came along and his heart expanded to the point of asking us to go to his house. We could not understand except by signs and a few words understood by my brother Eugene who had studied Portuguese on our route. (But) we caught on and were only too glad to accept his offer and were soon domiciled quite comfort-ably. This man had a venda (store) in front and a large house where we lived several weeks.
In the meantime we had some fine time rambling around the old Jesuit city of Iguape. On one side, not far from a great garden that we suppose had been abandoned by the Jesuits, who had just recently been banished from Brazil, we came across the foundations of a monastery. It was to have been one of the largest ever built and planned by those indomitable fanatics. fathers. Their trail may be seen all over Brazil, indeed, all over South America-- and in the most inaccessible places imaginable, just to capture the wild Indians for the holy church. However small the Hamlet may be, there is always a large handsome church steeple and bell tower, with a spacious front enclosure for festa (festival) purposes. The Iguape church is not behind the best seen in larger cities.
It was the month of June we were there, and for the first time we witnessed an old time’s Soa Joao Festa, the 24 June, and I have never seen anything since to half to equal it. The square was filled with all kinds of grotesque figures of animals, effigies of men and women mounted on poles, two alligators, and last of all two battleships set opposite each other. And when the fireworks were set off there was such a bombardment as set the echoes ringing, ~ till the two were demolished. The alligators also were for each other, to the finish of both. After the display was over a nice man and wife invited our party to his house for coffee, cakes and other doces (sweets) all new to us. The cakes were made of mandioca (manioc) starch, served by black slaves, handed round on waiters. We were seated on a kind of low divan, some on rush mats on the floor. The most honored guests took the hammocks. There were never less than two of three in every house in those days. The substitute was a small bench made of planks, boxlike, not at all unlike a small truck.
Brazilians are the kindest people in the world and treat strangers with the greatest consideration. We made friends with many nice families, though unable to speak our language, they would come around and by signs take us to their homes and entertain us showing all their nice fancy work, of which they are very fond and great experts. But our young ladies and young man blushed when they brought out there underclothes, also beau-tifully embroidered, never dreaming it was improper, not knowing American ideas about such things.
Precious memories make me loath to leave that queer little city. But word came at last that the riverboat had returned after taking the first passengers up river. The porto (port) was some distance from the city. How we got there, I can’t remember. But we camped there a day. During the day a sailor man came up to our camp with a large bunch of bananas. (He) said he wanted them cooked three ways: boiled, fried and baked. He said he did not intend to die in debt to his stomach for a bite. f bananas. We had a big laugh, and my mother did as he dir-ected, and that one bunch was enough for a whole group of people. The sailor was stranger to us. The story is told to extol the bananas of Iguape. None such can be found anywhere else in Brazil. Take me back to the land where I first saw bananas, has been my song ever since I left there.
The boat that took us up the river was a kind of makeshift steamboat, accommodating only a few passengers. Consequently we had to go in bunches. Our party was the last. (It was composed of) only three families. When going at full speed, the boat stopped in midstream. Just as the sun went down, there, we were unceremoniously dumped into two great dugout canoes. The men in one, women and children in the other. One old lady exclaim-ed, I will not go ashore with no man with us. So a young man got over into our dugout. Of course we were crowd-ed in the bag and baggage. These canoes were manned by two natives, one at each end with poles and oars. The old ladies took it fine, and the girls were gay and flirted with the young man-- but not me! I was scared, for dark-ness soon came on and it began to rain. Imagine us out in the open dugout in the middle of a great river, ignor-ant of when or where we would land. It was no fun-- dark as Egypt except when flashes of lightning showed nothing but water. The rain became heavy and threatening., And thunder added to the situation.
At last, about midnight, we landed at the port of a big fezenda.. Glad to once more be on land we dragged our dripping selves up a long slippery steep path to the house where some of our people were housed. Among others who met us at the door was a young English man. His good sense helped the mothers. He told us to cover our heads and crawl in among the rough rice that partly filled the great hall. This was done and we soon fell asleep, and awoke the next morning dry as powder to a bright sunny morning, ready for eats and the next adventure.
In the meantime, the men folks in the other canoe had gone ahead. In the dark (they) had missed the landing place and poled on up to a small hut where the, camaradas (companions) landed them. There, they passed the rest of the night round a fire kindled by one loan match my brother, Penny, happened to have in his pocket. Next morning they came back and were glad to find their wives and children all safe and sound.
On continuing the journey next day, nothing of interest transpired except our little incident which came near being serious. A bad boy that had annoyed the colony all the way, god to cutting up as usual and fell overboard into the great, overflowing river. He was only five years old-- Eddie Cook. His dad stood up and yelled:: "Save my child! Save my child!" Though the native men did not understand a word, one of them put the boys dad to shame by jumping out, and after a short swim (he) caught the child and brought him safely back. None but his own family would have cared had he died, but he lived to be a very nice-looking young lad. I saw him years after in Santos and hope his manners improved as much as his looks.
We saw very few houses en-route up river, only now and then a small hut built on the steep banks of the river. These were covered with palm leaves and look more like a corn crib, then a house. We passed one of these with Mr. or. rather Parson Ratcliff had taken shelter with his wife and old Mrs. Weingartner and daughter for com-pany. And there alone was born little Nand Ratcliffe, who lived to be almost a young lady when her dad went back to the States from Villa Americana. After holding the Baptist Church together at the Campo for years, he was left a widower with four children, one a boy, when he took them back to Texas. We next tested place, a small town called Xiririca built on the left bank of the (Ribeira,) just at the point where the river takes a bend to the right. I can’t remember how many days we spent on this trip, but know we camped on the banks in the wild forest. One night’s experience is enough. The rain came down, a steady, general downpour, but by this time we had learned not to mind very much. There was not room to set up the tent, so each took such covering as he had, spread a kind of shelter from one small saplings to another crawled under, and slept with rain dripping all around, too tired and sleepy to fear the oncas (jaguars.)
At last we reached government house, is such could be called "house" covered with palm leaves, walls of palm slats set up picket fashion, 3 inches apart. The house had no windows, no inside divisions, only a door at each end. When our party arrived on the scene, there were several families ensconced in the building, filling it to its utmost capacity. Besides (there were) several tents pitched in the open square cleared for that purpose. Our tent was soon up-- and then began the weary wait, for Frank laid sick at Col. Bowen’s and no one cared to move till we knew the outcome.
It was a trying time for all, especially Dad and Ma., for they were devoted to him. Frank, when a boy, was one of dad’s pupils, and it was Frank who, when grown-up, led my dad to Texas. His father, old Hugh McMullan, had been a father to my dad when he first started out in life, and finally gave him a homestead in Texas. So the joke on pa was that he'd follow Frank to the end of the world and die for him if need be. And Frank was truly worthy of the devotion.
We must have remained at this house a month or more. The good church people of New York had given us a gift of two boxes of books, principally religious of course-- and many Sunday school books. And with Parson Quillen on hand we had Sunday school with plenty of singing led by Dad. We woke the echoes with songs never heard in those valleys before.
McMullan’s death broke the cords that bound the colony. Dad and a few others went up the river to spy out the country. When they returned, several families set out together each in his own dugout. But soon we separated and went on alone. We camped every night ?( just as we did before, in route to the shack Bowen built.) Some-times (we camped) in a hut called a porto, (a stopping place for travelers.) Such was an open shed, and one of which was stored the largest dugout we had ever seen. We made our beds down in it, believe it or not! Here it rained, so we were there two days and nights.
The most interesting part of this last trip was passing the three great falls. These falls consisted of gradual des-cent over rocks and boulders for a hundred yard(s) or more, waters foaming along between, leaving the rock bare. But the main stream flowed through a channel at the right, at the end of which the waters fell almost per-pendicularly with terrific force. Passenger and baggage had to be lifted over the rock at one side, while the boat had to be pushed up the roaring current by two men, who by main force, with poles in hand, literally lifted to both perpendicular(ly) forcing it upward, the weight depending on the two poles. One wrong move would have been fatal. The channel is about 10 or 12 feet wide and fell at least 20 feet. Such must be seen to be appreciated. It reminds one of Stanley’s travels in Africa.
After this, we went poling on through the dense forest on each side, finally passing the mouth of the Rio do Peixe, then the Guanhanha, then to the mouth of the Areado, our final destination. These three creeks emptied into the Azeite, which at this point took a right angle bend. At this property formed by this abrupt bend was found a typical house of those days, mud daubed, surrounded with orange trees, mandioca plants and other plants. We landed and found two sailor men living there-- pro tem gold seekers. One was named Bob Smith, the other Mr. Crawley. Both were strangers to us. They had quarreled and Crawley had moved over to the opposite bank, built a little hut where he slept rather than share the shelter of his enemy. But (he) had to cross over every day to eat. One could wait at this place on the Azeite. In the open(ing) Mr. Crawley had made, we pitched our tent.
Mr. Tarver had gone before us and had befriended an old Brazilian by the name (of) Camargo. (He) became our good friend for the whole three years we lived (there). He had a wheel for gritting mandioca roots, a press for extracting the white juice which when settled made the starcht called tapioca, and an oven for drying out the farinha (flour.) So he allowed our boys to use his outfit to make our own farinha. They would clean a lot of roots at home, shoulder the load and spend the day, and bring home a bushel of farinha the bread of Brazil at that time. Mrs. Tarver let her feather bed go to this man Camargo. They did not want the feathers, but the cloth is useful so they emptied the bed out into the river, which floated white goose feathers for days.
The rain kept us in camp for several days (the Crawley camp.) The owner of the house opposite had built a shack on the Areado about two miles up, where his family lived at that time. He had a large roca (crop) of corn, sugar cane and bananas, potatoes and the inevitable mandioca. The squatter claim was on the extreme end of the colony grant. Dad bought out his improvements for $50,00 (i.e. 50 milreis), and the poor old cabodo (man from the country) said it was the first time in his life he had so much cash in his hand. We soon moved up and took possession of our new home which was to be for the next three years. This was on 11 August 1866, nearly a year after we left Texas.
The shack was just one long room, walls of palm slats set 3 inches apart and covered with palm leaves, with only one door, and dirt floor. The cooking place was on the ground in a corner, the pots being supported on trivets. And such pots! They were made of mud, burnt like tile and shaped like a flat bowl. Food cooked in these pots is most excellent. Especially canja ( chicken soup) made of new rice and chicken. You should eat tatu (armadillo) cooked in its own shell set on a trivets. Dad and the boys soon made two partitions, forming a hall between two rooms. A lean-to was also made for the kitchen. We had brought a small stove from New York. They knocked up some rude slabs for door shutters, drove short post in the floor for beds. The springs were made of palm slats.
Here he lived for two years on the left bank. The fields lay over on the other side, where they built a nice house and a hog pen.. And by the end of the second year, a good house was erected-- or rather I should say begun. In the meantime, more land was opened up for rice, corn, black beans, and sugar cane. The first year, we suffered for fresh meat, but the boys trapped tatus and other small animals. We also learned to make fish baskets from the natives. So we got along fine. It was tough at first, for the wild birds made such queer noises. We thought it was oncas or other wild beasts. Our days were too busy to feel lonesome until Sunday came. But we had our books for Sunday, until the afternoon, when we small ones would paddle up and down the creek or cross over to the cane patch and chew came.
We had our lessons every night around the rude table dad had made out of a solid slab sawn out of the root of the great figueira tree. This tree had been felled by the cabodo who said it took three days hard chopping by two men to bring it down. The wide-spreading roots peculiar to the wild figueirae made it so that they had to build a scaffold to stand on at least 12 feet from the ground. I could write a whole page trying to describe this tree, and then miss it. One has to see to understand.
In the time we were getting settled, but Tarver’s had chosen their place-- land where we landed on the bank of the Azeite. And Col. Bowen’s family had moved further up beyond us on the Areado. A wide public road was being opened from the mouth of the Areado to lead over the mountains to the seacoast, where it would reach a town called Peruibe.. Lou Bowen was superintendent of the work, and they built their new house up a ways on this road. But we never went up or down the road without being scared half to death, for fear of the oncas, which were plentiful. Often, troops of monkeys passed overhead, for, wide as the road was, the branches of the great trees met above and easily gave the monkeys a chance to cross. So we had two neighbors. Most of the others settled on the Peixe and Guanhanha. We were able to visit each other quite often. (We three neighbors I mean.)
About this time our oldest brother Eugene decided to make a break for himself, though only 20 years of age. He first went over the mountain, opened a clearing near Peruibe, built a hut and planted a crop. He then married Miss Sue Bowen. Parson performed thea marriage at the home of the bride. The following day we had a big dinner at our house, both families being the only guests. About the middle of the day, Mr. Crawley passed by on his way to Peruibe, this being the only way to get salt and other needs, and Mr. Quillen, not been satisfied with-out some outside witness, called the couple in and married him over in Crawley’s presence who signed the paper. Crawley had married the widow Flint and had moved to Peruibe and became Eugene’s neighbor. But he soon left there and went on to Santos, and finally on to Santa Barbara.
The first year was tough, as we had to get used to so many strange sounds, queer birds and animals. The food also was different. Our clean rise gave out. Then we had to clean the rough rice by means of a hand mortar with a pestle. The task fell to us three little ones, me and my two younger brothers, Virgil and Tully. In the afternoon we would beat out enough for breakfast and next morning sufficient for dinner and supper.
For sugar we made molasses of the cane planted by the man who sold us the place. He had left the mill, which consisted of two palm logs about 5 feet long placed horizontally on posts. (The mil)l was turned by hand. Each roller at opposite ends had to cross siticks It took a boy or man at each end to turn the rollers. The cane knots had to be mashed first by an ax or club. One held the cane while the others turned the rollers. It was my task to boil down the juice to molasses-- one bucia (kettle) in the morning, one in the afternoon. The juice fell from the rollers into a wide wooden tray.
From the beginning, we had plenty of bananas-- bananas.da terra (plantains)-- which we baked and called "our sweet cakes". For meal we had a steel hand mill. It was so hard to grind sufficient for bread (that) we soon drop-ped off to bread once a day and substituted farinha. After the first six months we had chicken and made our own bacon. Of flour we had none, and when hungry for chicken fried, we made canja. we had sweet potatoes, cara (roots of Dioscoria vines), vegetables and onions, also mandioca-mansa (cultivated manioc) and learned to make porviliho (manioc flour cakess and on the whole lived fine.
I am loath to leave the first year of our life on the Iguape rivers and our simple amusements. Fond memories picture us wanderings through the woods, making swings of the hanging vines, following the trail to the boys trap, or poling up and down the creeks in a dugout watching for Kingfisher, hearing his call, and the sapsucker tap-tap. Then (we would hear) the great tucanos (toucans) queer honk-honk away up in the trees robbing the little bird nests; then, the lone sad notes of the perdiz (Partridge) while the white anvil birds' changing bell rang out now and then. The cooing wood doves plaintiff note and, at twilight, the whippoorwill sent thrills along the spine. Our first acquaintance with the black army ants was a surprised. These ants march in droves, a black mass covering the ground 10 or 15 feet wide. And everything alive that falls in their path must hurry itself or fall a victim to their hungry jaws. In the case of young birds in nests, tiny bones is soon all that is left to tell the story. A cricket, grasshopper, or barala (cockroach) has no chance with them. If they strike the house at night, there is no more sleep. We must get up, make a fire in the yard and wait patiently until they passed on. Afterwards we learned that if we lay still they would not bite, and they certainly were a blessing to clean the house of bugs.
My dearest recollections of these times is of father, then, with only a sprinkle of gray. He was a very well read man, and in the lonely forests life, he tried to make up to us all we missed by our isolated circumstances. We had quite a good assortment of books of our own, besides many from the boxes belonging to the colony, and we were stimulated by a natural bent (that we had) inherited (and by) dads influence. So we had our daily lessons and at night studied till bedtime. And never was the singing omitted. As (we) gathered around the table by candlelight with song book in hand even the monkeys must have stopped to listen. Dad was an old-fashioned vocal singing school teacher, so he taught us the music notes as well as songs. Every few days a new hymn was learned from the new books-- besides glee and comic songs.
Our mother’s part must not be forgotten. She kept house and kept us youngsters well clothed as far as she was able. She was a good cook, a very neat housekeeper, strange to say, she never complained of all our hardships. Her motto was "the Lord will provide." (t)here she gave me my first lesson in sewing, by hand of course, and taught me to make embroidery and draw thread work. Sitting with her candle at the end of the table with work in hand, she would join us in songs as she felt like it. She taught every child to read by the time we were six years old. My older brother read at four years. And she told us Bible stories till we knew them by heart and made us toe mark or we caught the switch we needed.
It must have been in the latter part of the first year (that) we found out Parson Quillen was preaching to those on the Guanhanha. Our first visit over there was by water or by an old trail over three mountains. But now we learned a new way to go by cutting a new trail with only one mountain. Even this trail was a tough proposition, for unless we started early, we could not get there in time. But it was play for us. As we climbed, we had special spots named from Pilgrim's Progress. One was "hill difficulty," then beyond, the "valley of humiliation," and so was born in our early minds the inspiration to follow Christian to the celestial city of God. Of course we were afraid of meeting oncas. And (one) day, brotherPpenny ran ahead and hid until we came by. Then he began to growl. Sakes alive! Were we frightened? You should have seen us run, down the mountainside until we found out it was a joke.
Quillen was much above the average preacher. He was a very learned man and brought his very superior col-lection of books. Such a library was unusual in those days. And we sat spellbound under his preaching. Our meeting house was in the shade of a tree, with rude seats arranged just any old way. Lessons were just as inter-esting and hymns just as sweet as they are today. And we made the wood ring with "There is a Happy Land" and all the rest of those old Sunday school songs, which have never been beaten by modern hymns. It was while Quillen was preaching on Ezekiel’s Valley of dry bones, that I made up my mind to join the church at the first opportunity. This came years afterwards, at the Campo, while Parson Newman was preaching in an old abandoned venda( little store) on the road from the Campo to Santa Barbara.
Enough of this.
Now I turn to our work, for work we did in those never to be forgotten three years in the sertao (hinterland) of Iguape. One of the first things after felling the big trees and planting a hill of coffee was building a rice house and then a rice mill to prepare the Rice for market. Dad and the boys first made a dam on a small stream about a half mile above us. This was on that same big road mentioned before. (They) bought and old six mortar mill with a large waterwheel. This was set up with tumblers sawn by hand and covered with palm leaves. When this mill got to work, we children did not have to beat rice anymore.. On an old abandoned roca (cleared land) on our side of the creek, they planted grass for pasture. How that Bermuda grass did grow. In six months it was knee-deep and ready for the two horses bought from Bowen. His horses had all died from fava (lima beans) except these two.
Next was when dad determined to build a real American house, weather boarded, and covered with shingles. To find timbers to split was no easy job, but at last he found a tree. And while he and Penny and Marcene rived the boards, Eugene and Preston, with one, camarada sawed the lumber for posts, doors, joists, rafters, and planks for the floors. To get these boards hauled to the house was the next question. This was done on the backs of those two horses, and Marcene and I were the drivers. We would ride bareback to the place, tie a dozen boards together a dozen for each side, pack mule fashion. Then we would scramble on top of the boards and ride away down the narrow trail singing as loud as you please, happy as kings!
Another thing we had to have shoes. But how to get these? Brazilians did not use shoes in those days. Dad was called 'jack of all trades and good at none." He made cobbled shoes. But where (to) get the leather? All he had was deer skins, but these were no good unless tanned. Knowing something of oak tan bark, he set out in the mata (woods) testing the bark, and happened upon the very famous tan bark of Brazil, simply by taste. Soon he dug a trough, and the tanning was so good, the leather was ready in a week. He made our lasts or forms, for each of us. Then the shoes, the wooden Pisadas (footwear).. Thus we were shod. Natives of bare feet and shirt tails out, we could not get used in.
Again, Pa and (the) boys raised their own tobacco. (They) actually made a wooden screw pin and press, and one brother made tan rope tobacco to sell-- we called it tan rope. One can hardly realize the hardships of our people.
The time was fast coming for us to leave and seek a more civilized country. Both Bowen and Tarver had left, as had all those on the Guanhanha and Peixe, except Quillen, who had moved down to the big River. Brother Eu-gene had moved over near us and built a nice house, not far from Tarver’s. Here was where the first grandchild was born, Mrs. Eugenia Smith Butler, known now as a retired missionary. We children were surprised one morning to hear dad say, Sarah (as he always called Ma):, this won’t do. We got to get out of here somehow. To go back down the river was out of the question, owing to (the) lack of cash to pay ship passage to Santos. To foot it over the mountains was the only way to for us to leave. Next morning he and brother Penny set out and traveled on foot, first to Peruibe, then on to the coast, to Santos. There, by train to Jundiai, the terminus at that time. They walked on and on to Campinas and finally reached the Americans.
The first house (of the Americans) was not far from the present station of Reboucas.. On inquiry-- "who lives here?"-- the man said, "Smith" Dad took off his hat and said, "I've a great mind to shoot. I have traveled thou-sands of miles to get rid of the Smiths, and the first man I meet is Smith.". Smith laughed and took the stranger in and helped him find the other Americans. And he also put him on track of a fezenda, which dad rented. And (Dad) left penny with old man Perkins, while he went back to get the rest of us.
At this time we had a nice well-built house, not quite finished. Our coffee was white with flowers. (There was) a great field of rice, ready to harvest, and plenty of everything but neighbors, and a close market. His description of the wonderful sarracima (mountain view) set our hearts on to be off, and immediate preparation began. Our movables were to be packed over the mountains on the shoulders of our boys and two camaradas. It took three days to make one trip there and back. After some days, we all picked up a small load and started out. Mine was part of our lunch and Dads carpenters square. Brother soon relieved me of that, I even soon dropped my package of onions. The smallest boy, Tully had a bag of peanuts, but left them in our mill house as we passed by. We lift Eugene and family to gather the rice and sell what he could for cash. He was to come away next year which he did first settling on a coffee place near Campinas where his eldest son Ira William Smith was born. This was Willie Smith, known as cousin Buddie, the father of Henry and Archie Smith and their five sisters.
I shall never forget that trip over the mountains, crossing the many streams, sometimes waist deep. The boys would pick Ma up and carry her over the worst places, but I waded with the boys, and soon lost one shoe in the mud then I kicked off both stockings and the other shoe. Tired and completely worn out, just at nightfall, we came to the river and crossed over to Peruibe, where we rested a day. Then (we traveled) in boats down the river and through a long canal (channel) where we could almost touch the mossy banks with our hands. It was amu-sing to watch for crawfish-- lots of them on the black mud, between low bushes-- for miles. Next came the town of Conceicao. Here we passed one night. Next day, having arranged two Bullock carts we loaded up and traveled 40 miles along the coast to the Bayou which we had to cross over to get to Santos.
When we got to Santos, we were glad to run upon the Cook and Hanney families. This was in February 1871, and happened to be Carnival time-- the first time we ever saw that Festa. On the way over the mountains, we passed an open place where the Cooks had buried their baby boy and left him alone in a vast forest. Ma soon bought me shoes and a hat and I had a good time visiting Brooks Hanney. I watched her make wax lemons, filled with water, to pelt the young men on the street. Then we saw the grotesque figures that rolled along, followed by the happy crowds wild with excitement. Such things were new to us. And serpentines and lanca-perfume (carnival spray had not been invented then. But the effigies in those days were funny: devils with horns, and four footed beasts, and what not.
While we were on the beach we saw some queer looking object, which on investigation proved to be some huge sea monster. Someone had set the back bone joints on end, and they were each at least two feet high and more than a foot wide. I don’t know if they were whale or not, and whatever flesh covered those back bones could have swallowed several Jonahs.
After a few days in Santos to make some purchases the journey was continued on the train, which first climbed the great mountain or rather, was pulled by the cables hitched to engines stationary at the top, a bit of English railroading skill considered a wonderful feat. It was a thrilling ride, beautiful view all the way. An old bare-footed slave remarked to my brother, thinking to enlighten an ignorant foreigner, "Nao precisaviazar. Ja estamos ahi" (Don’t worry we’re almost there.) Brother smiled and let the old man think we had never written on a car before.
Passing São Paulo, the town was seen from the windows, a small town with low scattered houses on a hill quite a distance from the station of the same name. How little we know that that little insignificant looking town would grow to be the second greatest city in Brazil and the most prosperous city in all of South America as it is today in 1936
At that time the railroad had only got to Jundiai, beyond which lay our destination near Campinas. In those days too, all country traffic and merchandise was carried over rough roads on pack mules and oxcart. We were several days were several days delayed at Jundiai before we found a way to reach our destined stopping place. We happened upon an old cart man who had to empty carts returning to Camp(inas), in one of which he agreed to take us not only to Campinas, but on to the "Fazenda do Bocudo" that now belongs to Charlie Vaught. (I) can’t remember how long we were on this trip-- two weeks maybe. It was enjoyable at first, seeing open country (and) after three years in the woods, to watch cattle grazing in pastures, as we passed the coffee fazendas with neat houses all in a row. But it became tiresome, with so much red dust and the squeaking carts and pack mules, camping each night at the mule shelters on the road’s side. The cart man had his wife along to do the cooking, but we cooked for ourselves and afterward sat around the campfire trying to talk to each other and learning new words of Portuguese.
These cart man and muleteers deserve a better pen than mine. They should be told by songs and stories, having now passed forever from the old days of seventy years ago. Now, trains pass along the same route and unseen whistles may the echoes. The horns of the whizzing automobiles sounds along the road, while airships drone above. And not an echo is left to commemorate the existence of those hot, dusty toiling workers whose footsteps are here no more. And who cares? Or gives them a thought? Now they are gone from the scenes of life where they toiled, lived, laughed, dance, and suffered, as their fathers had done for ages before them with the same heartbeats and longing for better things, no doubt! Who knows?
One thing is sure: those things-- conditions-- would have been the same yet if England and other nations had not come and built railroads and developed the country. A glimpse of the people and customs of the people of those times would be almost unbelievable. The cart man for instance when barefooted, shirttails out, and the wife dressed in a chemise-- bare arms, a wide skirt tied round the waist, barefooted as well, bare headed except sometimes she wore a shawl or a handkerchief tied on her head.
Now behold our cart men with his old tattered straw hat as he footed the dusty road, his long pole to guide and drive the slow going oxen. (There were) two men for each cart, drawn by 10 or 12 yoke. These great heavy carts, clumsy, with wheels made of solid slabs of cabriuva (hardwood) fastened to the axle, which turned with the wheel. The floor extended to a sharp point out on the tongue, like the bow the ship. The only light thing about it was the body made of plaited taquara (bamboo strips) about three feet wide, and long enough to reach around the front and back to the hind end, leaving an opening for entry or loading up. The heavier payloads, the louder the squeak. and the louder the squeak, the prouder the driver, as he urged the oxen, calling each by name, while his companion slowly walks on in front with his pole touching them up or turning them as needed around, over the rough places, and up and down hill(s). The two wheel- oxen always held the whole weight back going downhill, and pulled the most going up. One has to hear the driver's strange words to appreciate them. (They had) different (calls) to go, stop or turn, or back up. The first word to go was "vamos" (let’s go), in a long sing-song way. In a crisis "puxa diabo" (pull devil"'. To stop, it was "o-e-ou!" To pull back was" fasta-fasta (back-up back-up) laranja" or "alegria," as the name might be.
In those days the natives rode horseback, and it was a sight to see a rich fazendeiro mounted with his two toes in a small stirrup, with his pozem (gang) trotting along behind. If in a gang with ladies along, they all strung out in a row, Indian file. The first trolleys in Brazil were made by a Yankee, Mr. Simpson. The trolley was a kind of buckboard, wheels wide apart, with no floor, only two, wide steel Springs connecting the hind wheels with the front. And you might be sure, it was not safe traveling. One had to hold tightly to the seat, or fall through over the rough places.
There were no brick houses when we came to Brazil. Even the great churches were either stone, or dirt and sticks. The better houses were plastered and whitewashed. The plaster was made of cattle droppings mixed with water and sand. Most houses were dirt floored, but some had the bedroom floored with large, wide, heavy, hand sawed planks. The first grapes in Sao Paulo were planted by an American, Dr. Reinhardt, who had a fazenda near Campinas. We camped there one night near his house he was a fine gentleman, and my brother Penny worked for him after he grew up-- worked with the plow. And while he was there, the old man died, and Penny helped to bury him. The old gentleman’s sons are known to this day, both in São Paulo and Campinas.
Ploughs were not in use until the Americans introduced them. Coffee was cultivated with hoes, some of them a foot wide. (They) were used by negro slaves. Coffee grains were cleared of trash and pebbles by hand, coffee spread on long tables, and extended rows of negroes on the side, busy picking trash, etc. The pulpadorr was invented by an Englishman named Beven in 1889 or 90. Parched coffee was beaten by hand in a wooden mortar and pestle, while now even the country people buy their coffee in po ( powder), or have their own parcher and grinder. The kitchen utensils in those days were in neither pans nor buckets, but wooden trays and earthen jars. The stoves were fugoes (stoves) with a cast iron top, with from 3 to 6 holes, such as are still seen in country places. As for sleeping, most of them slept on a rush mat with a few thin blankets and a smoothed off block of wood for a pillow.. Or else, the pillows were stuffed with the macela , a wildflower of the Campo. One could smell them in passing. Now, even the poor have nice beds, white counterpanes and large pillows. No one wore shoes or socks when we came here. Now every caippira (hick) goes shod. There are other differences, but these will show what foreigners have done for Brazil. So here is my story.
SWD got Ferguson,
by aunt Bellona, spring 1943
THE FOLLOWING INFORMATION WAS TRANSLATED FROM PORTUGUESE AND HAS NOT BEEN "CLEANED UP" THERE ARE MANY SYNTAX AND SPELLING ERRORS DUE TO THE TRANSLATING PROGRAM
History of the family Smith
Middle of century XVIII - Robert Ferrer, French noble, huguenout, preventing to be victim of the persecutions of the catholics, ran away for the U.S.A, adopting the last name Smith (blacksmith). He directed himself later for the Carolina of the North and for the Georgia, in the neighborhoods of Masson. There he was married and he had many children. Any story or reference to the name or nationality of its woman do not exist.
End of century XVIII - One of its children, Robert Smith Jr, was married Mary Dillard. They had had the children: Isaac, Louis, Alfred Iverson, Robert and more six girls. Youngest, Fannie, the favourite died with twelve years.
1838 - Alfred Iverson Smith, then 20 years old, left for Alabama where it worked as foreman of slaves in a farm the edges of the river the Mississippi. Adoeceu and returned the Georgia, being however in very distant place of the house of its parents. Pale, weak and exhausted, asked for settled in the house of Hugh McMullan. It not only got it, but it arranged a great friend, treated who it as its proper son. Alfred used as professor, having as pupils the children of Hugh McMulan, between them Frank McMullan, and also the children of the Bryce.
1845 - Alfred Iverson Smith was married Sarah Jane Bryce, born in 1830 in Carrol Co GA. They had had the following children: Anger Wellington Smith-1846, Eugene Bellington Smith-1848, Alfred Preston Smith-1850, Pennington Ulysses Smith-1852, Massena Arlington Smith-1853, Sarah Bellona Smith-1856, Virgil Sebaston Smith-1857 and Erasmus Fulton Smith-1861.
1856 - Alfred Iverson Smith and Sarah Jane had been joined marches it for the West, that dragged the nation in the middles of century XIX. They took to the col the son Sarah Bellona Smith with only five months of life. Two months of trip had arrived after at the Texas. They had established next the Pecom Creek in the county to Hill, area where today it is placed city of Hillsboro, being neighboring to the McMullan, that they were there since
1853. The principle pupil, Frank McMullan became great friend of Alfred, friendship this that lasted until the end of its life. Farmers had become, cultivating mainly the cotton.
1860 - Alfred Iverson Smith, appears listed in the carried through recenceamento of 1860 in Dresden, Navarrese CoTexas.
1861 - Beginning of the war of secession between the north (Yankees) and the south (Confederates). Alfred Iverson Smith, for being music professor, served as bugler in the army confederate.
1865 - It finished the war of the secession. Feelings of revolt, hatred and even though shame for having been defeated, had motivated many sulistas to abandon its lands. Frank McMullan, desiring to become immigration agent, arrives at Rio De Janeiro in 9 of December of 1865 on board the Ann&Lizzie ship. It searched the authorities Brazilian, which after ample negotiations granted area to it for settling in the region of Iguape-SP, areas these bathed by the rivers Are Lourenço, Itarirí, Fish, Guanhanhã, Sanded Oil and. This area belongs today to the city of Itarirí-SP.
03/06/1866 - Frank McMullan, after six months of inspection in Brazilian lands, returns to the U.S.A embarking in the vapor North America.
09/11/1866 - Inhabiting in the county of Navarrese, in the Texas, Alfred Iverson Smith and family, had left in a wagon opened for a trip of two weeks until the next railroad station, Milligen. In this city other immigrants had joined it, had freighted a load train and had been for Houston. They had followed later for the port of Galveston.
24/01/1867 - After weeks of wait and much misfortune 140 immigrants, between them the family of Alfred Iverson Smith, had left in the Derby sail-boat, commanded for John Cross, for Rio De Janeiro.
09/02/1867 - The Derby beaten for a tropical storm was played of meeting to reefs in the island of Pines in bay Honda in Cuba, where he was run aground and partially changed back. Helped for Don Juan Vernay, rich local farmer and other inhabitants, the shipwrecks and good part of its good had been rescued. Led for the farm of Mr. Vernay, they had received foods and habitation per some days, when then they had travelled for Havana, where McMullan took care of next to the Brazilian consulate to obtain transport for Brazil.
10/03/1867 - Not getting success, the group travelled for the vapor Butterfly for New York, where they intended to take another boat for Brazil. There they had arrived in 26/03/1867. Had the strong storm they had remained anchored in Hampton Roads per seven days. This delay made with that they lost the boat would take that them of New York for Rio De Janeiro. They had almost waited one month for the next ship.
22/04/1867 - Joining it other immigrants 277 people had embarked, in New York, for Rio De Janeiro for the vapor North America, under the command of captain Tinkelpaugh.
20/05/1867 - They had arrived at Rio De Janeiro. Peter II and ample comitiva had been received by emperor Dom. Guests of the Brazilian government had become, being its referring debits to the financed payment of the tickets for Brazil pardoned, in view of the agruras for which they had passed.
25/05/1867 - Alfred Iverson Smith, its family and excessively component of the group, led for Frank McMullan had embarked in the Marmion vapor for Iguape-SP.
07/06/1867 - The group travelling in vapor, and later in canoes went up the river Ribeira de Iguape until the mouth of a river of the river Juquiá, where it was found constructed the “House of the Government”, place of the nesting. This place, today, places in the verge of the cities of Register and Seven Bar, not very distant of rodova BR-116.
11/08/1867 - Nine months after to have left its lands in the Texas, the family Smith found a new home. They had bought for 50 dollars, of an one who holds legal title to property, the land rights and headings and habitation of an area next to junction of the rivers Sanded and Oil. Per two years they had planted its roças and they had taken care of of its creations. To the end of as the year, they had constructed in the other edge of Sanded a true American house. Vide image in the gallery of photos.
29/09/1867 - Frank McMullan, strong weak for the tuberculosis, faleceu. Few weeks after the death of the leader the group if exhausted.
10/11/1868 - Eugene Fulton Smith (Fully), the son oldest of Alfred Iverson Smith is married Suzana (It sweats) Bowen. They had mounted beautiful residence next to the rivers Sanded Oil and. There it was born Eugenia in 1869, first granddaughter of Alfred and also the first Brazilian of the family.
08/1870 - Although satisfied in the place, the Smiths had felt lack of a next market to negotiate the products of its farmings. they were also to one year without American neighbors, therefore all already had left for other regions. Alfred deliberated that also they had to leave from there. Venderam everything, and with much sadness, the family left leaving the farmings, the animals, and improvements that as much sweat had cost to them, for bring. In ox cars they had been carried until Saints, where for the railroad little inaugurated, they had travelled for Jundiaí. When passing for plateaus, far from the station they turn a village that occupied some hills, was São Paulo. Of Jundiaí they had followed, per one week, in ox cars until Saint Bárbara of West-SP, city that for its climatic and topographical characteristics very if is similar to the south of the U.S.A, attracting great part of the Americans who had come to Brazil.
20/08/1871 - Alfred Iverson Smith and Sarah Jane Bryce Smith, appears as members that had participated of the foundation of the Methodist Church in Saint Bárbara of West. Alfred was the leader musician of the congregation.
04/03/1873 - Alfred Preston Smith, appears as witness of the marriage of George Ives Hall and Sarah C. McFadden, in Saint Bárbara.
01/06/1873 - Sarah Bellona Smith Ferguson, son of A.I.Smith and Sara Jane Bryce Smith, is married in Saint Bárbara with Turner E. Ferguson.
04/04/1875 - Alfred Preston Smith, appears as witness of the marriage of Amos J. Cullen and Alice. the Weissinger, in Saint Bárbara.
19/03/1876 - Massena. Smith, son of A.I.Smith and Sara Jane Bryce Smith, is married in Saint Bárbara with Elizabeth B. Bowen.
22/09/1877 - By not yet having proper temple, it was carried through in the orange grove of the farm of A.I.Smith, a congress of the Methodist Church, which possesss the original act of this event. Copy of this act is in the museum of the Field, in Saint Bárbara of West.
06/1879 - Alfred Iverson Smith, deacon, hosts in its house in nucleus 5 of the Field, the Quarterly Meeting of the Methodist Church.
1881 - Alfred Iverson Smith, then managing musical comedy of the congregation, receives in its house the American missionaries: J.J.Ranson, Martha Watts, Kennedy and Kogers.
14/02/1878 - Alfred Preston Smith, son of Alfred Iverson Smith, is married in White House with Izabel Libania, also known for Izabel Rodrigues.
1879 the 1902 - the children of the couple Are born above: Albert, Ayres, Ney, Lydia, Eduardo, Alfredo, Emerita, Robert and Alice.
06/11/1892 - It dies to the 74 years, in Piracicaba-SP, Alfred Iverson Smith. It was buried in the municipal cemetary, where one meets conserved its tomb well.
10/09/1896 - Of this date until March of 1897, Alfred Preston Smith appears in the book of current account of the Tubaca farm in Is Jose of the River Medium brown. In April of 1908 he was registered as “Contractor of Rice”. Alfred innovated agricultural techniques creating the rice and the coffee Smith.
17/04/1902 - Lydia Odorinda Smith, son of Alfred Preston Smith and granddaughter of Alfred Iverson Smith, born in 17/04/1884 in the White House - SP, is married in Is Jose of the River Medium brown with Oscar of Vasconcellos Barros, administrator of the Tubaca farm, been born in 24/10/1872.
1905 the 1922 - They are born in the farm Tubaca, the children of the couple above: Agenor-1905, Dulce-1906, Pablo-1908, Clarisvaldo-1910, Marilda-1912, Aracy-1914, Zilda-1916, Jair-1918 and Nadira-1922.
20/09/1923 - With 73 years, falece in Is Jose of the River Medium brown, Alfred Preston Smith.
30/10/1937 - Marilda Smith Vasconcellos, son of Oscar and Lydia, born in 07/10/1912, is married Olympio Menegatto, born in 02/08/1907. This couple had the children: Araci-1938, Silvia-1941 and I author of this Olimpio-1943 page.
Book “The Confederates - Old South Immigrants in Brazil” of Cyrus B. Dawsey & James M. Dawsey. The University of Alabama Press - 1995.
Book “The Elusive Eden - Frank McMullan `s Confederate Colony in Brazil” of Willian Clark Griggs. University of Texas Press - 1987.
Book “Flash in Dry Restolho " of Betty Antunes de Oliveira - Rio De Janeiro - 1985.
Book “the American pioneers in Brazil” of Frank Perry Goldman - São Paulo - Pioneering Bookstore Publishing company - 1972.
Book “Welded Descança” of Judith Mac Knight Jones - São Paulo - 1967.
Archives of the Betty historian Antunes de Oliveira - Rio De Janeiro - RIO DE JANEIRO
Archive of the Tubaca farm in Is Jose of Medium brown River - SP - 2001.
List of family names of those who entered Brazilian territory between 1865 and 1885.
Compiled by Betty Antunes de Oliveira
Turner Edward Ferguson
BIRTH 23 JUN 1849 • Chester, Chester, South Carolina, USA
DEATH 21 OCT 1914 • São Paulo, Sao Paulo, Brazil
Richard Ferguson October 10, 2015 at 2:34 pm
As you stated there were many that left the Confederate States for Brazil. My first Cousin 4X removed , Green Ferguson, went there soon after the war along with a Captain J A Thomas from the Chester County South Carolina Area. Green later sent for his family and they settled in the Americana area and became a well established farmer. He and his wife Minerva Rowell raised they American and Brazilian family there. Captain J A Thomas did not stay as he could not agree with the inter racial marriages that were allowed there. He returned to the USA and died in Chester County South Carolina.
Green and Minerva Ferguson, along with several of their children, are buried in the Campo cemetery you mentioned. One of Green and Minerva Ferguson’s Great Granddaughter still lives in the Sao Palo area. She is 95+ years old and I communicate with her children often. Her name is Betty Antunes de Oliveira and she is still playing the piano and organ almost daily.
ALFRED IVERSON SMITH AND SARAH JANE BRYCE
1. Ira Wellington "Anger" Smith
2. Eugene Bellington Smith
3. Alfred Preston Smith
4. Ulysses Pennington Smith
5. Massena Arlington Smith
6. Sarah Bellona Smith
7. Virgil Sebastian Smith
8. Erasmus Fulton Smith
1. Ira Wellington "Anger" Smith
Ira Wellington Smith, known as "Anger" was born on the family farm near Macon< Georgia on October 8, 1846. He was the first born and eldest son of Alfred and Sarah. He was the only member of the family did not make the trip to Brazil. While still a young boy, In the early 1850s, the Smith family had relocated to to Navarro, County, Texas where the had taken up farming.
Ira was not a big man, being only 5 foot 4 and a half feet tall, but at the age of fifteen at the beginning of the Civil War, he enlisted with Burford's Regiment , 19th Texas Texas Infantry at Dresden, Navarro County.under the command of Capt. Samuel Wright. He was stationed at Dallas, Texas.It does appear that he served the duration of the war as we have him leaving service in 1865.
We lose track of him for awhile after the war. His family had moved on to Brazil. As a young man he eventually made his way up to Omaha, Nebraska. On On February, 17, 1881 he married Maria Stupied (sp), known as Mary. She was the daughter of German immigrants, William and Catherine Mueller Stupied. She was born in December,1862 back in Germany before the family had immigrated. He was thirty-five and she was nineteen at the time of their marriage.
In 1885 Ira went to work as a letter carrier for Omaha - a position he held until his death in 1897 at the age of forty-eight. He had become ill and was sick for about six weeks before passing away. Mary would live many more years, but the exact date of her death is undetermined - 1939. Ira and Mary would have four children, a boy and three girls. The son never appears to have married and the girls , like their father would marry later in life. Mary and her son, Alfred, are buried in Laurel Hill Cemetery, Omaha. It is not determined where Ira was buried
The Omaha Daily Bee
October 26, 1897
IRA AND MARY HAD FOUR CHILDREN:
1. ALFRED F. SMITH
2. BERTHA SMITH
3. LEONA G. SMITH
4. MATTIE RUTH SMITH
1. Alfred F. Smith
Alfred was the eldest child and only son of Ira and Mary. He was born in Omaha on September 10, 1882 and died on July 15, 1915 when he was thirty-two yars old. There is no record that he ever married. He was buried at Laurel Hill Cemetery in Omaha.
2. Bertha Smith
Bertha was born in Omaha in December 1884. At around thirty-eight years old , sometime after 1920 she married Frank Julius Jodeit. During her adult life in Omaha, Bertha worked for several different companies as a clerk. Frank was born on February 27, 1879 To John Carl and Augusta Jackstadt Jodeit of what was once East Prussia.
Frank died on October 25, 1938 in Omaha. It is not known where he is buried. It could be that he is buried at Laurel Hill cemetery as that is where his parents and other Smith family members are buried. Frank's occupation was that of a foreman After Frank died, Bertha would continue working as a clerk in a book store.
In her later years, Bertha moved on down to Florida where her younger sister, Hattie, lived. It was there in Orlando that Bertha passed away in December of 1965. Bertha and Frank do not appear to have had any children.
3. Leona G. Smith
Leona G. Smith was the third child of Ira and Mary. She was born in Omaha, Nebraska in January of 1886. She married later in life at the age of thirty-seven to William Debtor Mann in Maryville, Nodaway County, Missouri on July 21, 1923. He was two years her junior. . William was born on May 17, 1888 in Adair County, Iowa to James Thomas and Melinda Jane Ware Mann.
William Mann was employed by the Railroad and after retiring went to work for the Union Packing Company. He died in May of 1966 in Omaha. Leona had died five years prior in December of 1961. They are both buried in Laurel Hill Cemetery, Omaha, Nebraska.
Leona and William had at least one child:
Ruth Jean Mann
Ruth was born on December 12, 1924 in Omaha, Nebraska. Prior to 1950 she married Louis Edward Simcho. He was born on June 27, 1923 in Omaha to
Joseph James and Susan Cejkovski Simcho. Joseph was from Hungary and Susan from Slovakia. Both Ruth Jean and Louis in Omaha, she on January 27, 2001 and he, on February 10, 1956.
Ruth Jean and Louis had at least one child:
Richard E. Simcho (Living)
4. Mattie Ruth Smith
Mattie Ruth Smith, the youngest child of Ira and May, was born in Omaha, Nebraska on August 25, 1889. She married Floyd Charles Goodrich on October 24, 1923 in Avola, Pottawattamie County, Iowa. Floyd was born in Omaha on May 24, 1890. He worked for the railroad. Floyd was previously married to Ethel Rawles - being married in Council Bluffs, Iowa on February 28, 1917. By 1923 Floyd and Ethel were no longer a couple as he married Mattie in 1923. Sometime, about 1960, the family would move to Orlando, Florida where they both died.
Mattie and Floyd had at least one child:
Muriel Justine Goodrich
Muriel was born in Omaha,Nebraska on September 13, 1925. She moved with her parents to Orlando about 1960. In Orlando she married Hector Mario Gutierrez, Hector was born in Tampa, Florida on April 5, 1924 to Mario Guerra and Leona Eanes Gutierrez both of whom were reared in Key West, Florida. Hector was a military veteran and as a young soldier during World War II was a POW. Hector died in Orlando at age 57 on November
21, 1981 and Muriel died in Orlando on June 23, 1996. They are both buried in Orlando at Gotha Cemetery in Orange County, Florida
Muriel and Hector would have three children
1. Floyd Alfred Gutierrez (Living)
2. Robert M. Gutierrez (Living)
3. Michelle L. Gutierrez (Living)
2. Eugene Bellington Smith
Eugene Bellington Smith was the second child of Alfred and Sarah Bryce Smith. And was born on the family farm in Carroll County, Georgia. He was with the family when they relocated to Navarro County, Texas. Being born on April 13, 1848 he was a little young to have participated in the Civil War. He was a smart and intelligent young man. He was one of the first in the family to learn Portuguese, having learned the language from Frank McMullen while sailing to Brazil. He helped his father farm and build the original homestead on the Areado River.
When about twenty years old he struck out on his own and settled in the little port town of Peruibe. He did come back home shortly thereafter where he married Susan Speed Bowen, the daughter of William Bowen, one of the leaders of the immigrants on Nov-ember 17, 1868. He had known Susan for a while as the Smiths and the Bowens had started their trek together from the hills of Texas. Susan was born about 1852 in Texas. It is uncertain when she died and where she is buried.
They had a large wedding at the Smith homestead with the large extended families of the Smiths and Bowens the only ones in attendance. Parson Quillan was the officiating minister. About the middle of the day, Mr. Crawley (a fellow Texan) passed by on his way to Peruibe, this being the only way to get salt and other needs, and Mr. Quillen, not been satisfied with-out some outside witness, called the couple in and married him over in Crawley’s presence who signed the paper. Crawley had married the widow Flint and had moved to Peruibe and became Eugene’s neighbor. But Eugene and family soon left there and went on to Santos, and finally on to Santa Barbara near to where his father had resettled.
Their first born, Eugenia “Jennie” would be the first grandchild of Alfred and Sarah and also the first true Brazilian of the Smith family.
On November 26, 1918 Eugene died in the little town of Dois Córregos, Sao Paulo, Brazil.
Eugene and Susan would have at least seven children:
1. Eugenia “Jennie” Smith
2. Ira William Smith
3. Charles Smith
4. Lelicia Smith
5. Lucilia Smith
6. James Smith
7. Hortencia Smith
1. Eugenia "Jennie" Smith
Jennie Smith was the first born grandchild of Eugene and Susan Bowen Smith and the daughter of Ira and Susan Bowen Smith and the first Brazilian born Smith Child. She was born in 1869 in Iguape, Sao Paolo, Brazil and died unknown.. She married Jorge (George) Luiz Becker, son of Jose Becker. Jorge was a noted Methodist minister missionary and traveled to the States many times for Methodist conferences. He was born in Brazil about 1873 and died in 1942, probably in Brazil.
Methodist Episcopal Church, South
Jul 1889 • Petropolis, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
Source: Minutes of the Annual Conferences of the Methodist Episcopal Church, Brazil Mission Conference, Fourteenth Session, Held at Petropolis, Brazil Jul 27-31, 1889, Page 14; J.L. Becker is in the Ribeirao Petro [Preto, Sao Paulo] District, Uberara Mission.
Methodist Episcopal Church, South
Aug 1898 • Piracicaba, Sao Paulo, Brazil
Source: Minutes of the Annual Conferences of the Methodist Episcopal Church, Brazil Mission Conference Aug 4-8, 1898 held at Piracibaba, Brazil, Page 222; JL Becker-Ribeirao Preto District [Sao Paulo], Uberara Circuit.
Brazil Mission Conference
Jul 1900 • Sao Paulo City, Sao Paulo State, Brazil
Source: Minutes of the Annaual Conferences of the Methodist Episcopal Church, Brazil Mission Conference, Fifteenth Session held Jul 26-31, 1900, Page 22; JL Becker-Ribeirao Preto District, Santa Rita Circuit.
Brazil Mission Conference
Jul 1905 • Brazil
Source: Minutes of the Annual Conferences of the Methodist Episcopal Church, Brazil Mission Conference, Twentieth Session held Jul 2-Aug 1, 1905, Page 17; JL Becker-Ribeirao Preto District, Franca and Batatois [Circuit]
Methodist Episcopal Church, South
Jul 1917 • Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
Source: Full text of "Minutes of the Annual Conferences of the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, Brazil Conference held at Rio de Janerio, Brazil Jul 11-16, 1917, Page 324; JL Becker, PE [Presiding Elder]-Bello Horizonte District.
Jan 1922 • Juiz de Fora, Minas Gerais, Brazil
Delegate from Brazil to attended Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church, South on May 3 1922 Hot Springs, Arkansas; duties-clerical. Source: The Methodist Quarterly Review, January 1922, Page 354.
25 Mar 1922 • Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
Passage paid by Board of Missions, $300.00 for Jorge and $300.00 for his wife Eugenia; Delegate to the conference of Methodist Episcopal Church, South in Hot Springs, Arkansas; stay 6 months; both he & wife have fair complexion, sandy hair, blue eyes.
25 Mar 1922 • Juiz de Fora, Minas Gerais, Brazil.
24 Apr 1930 • New York, New York
Sailed from Buenos Aires Apr 3, 1930, ship Western World, destination Dallas, TX to Methodist Church Conference, stay 2 mos.
No determination on children:
2. Ira William Smith
Ira William “Willie” “Buddie” Smith was the second born to Eugene and Susan Bowen Smith in 1871 - location unknown. Not much is known about him. He married and had at least two sons. The name of his wife and where he lived and died are undetermined.
1. Archie Smith
Archie was born in Brazil and presumedly died there, probably near Americana, Brazil.. His death date is May 8, 1978 and he is buried at the Campo Cemetery, Santa Bárbara d'Oeste, Município de Santa Bárbara d'Oeste, São Paulo, Brazil.
No further information.
2. Henry Smith
No further information
3. Charles Smith
Charles Smith, the third child of Eugene and Susun Bowen Smith was born on February 17, 1873 in Campinas, Sao Paulo, Brazil and died on July 12, 1953 in Lapa, Sao Paulo, Brazil. Around 1900 he married Martha Ethel Thomas, the daughter of William Francis Thomas and Fanny Eliza Ferguson, both being of Confederado immigrant families. Martha was born on February 16, 1881 in Santa Barbara and died on January 16, 1937 in Sao Paulo. Presumably the Charles Smith family lived in Sao Paulo City as that is where all their children were born and where Martha died in 1937. Not much is known about their life but they did have at least five children.
1. Eugenio Franklin Smith
He was born on on July 11, 1902 in Sao Paulo City, and died on July 31, 1993
In Santo Andre, Sao Paulo State, Brazil. He did marry and have children names and dates undetermined.
2. Eunice Almira Smith
She was born on January 5, 1904 in Sao Paulo City and died at the age of 23 on July 26, 1927 in that same city. She does not look to have been married. No further information
3. Richard Adelle Smith
He was born on May 20, 1905 In Sao Paulo City and died on November 2, 1951 on that same city. No further information.
4. Dorothy Julia Smith
She was born on July 8 1913 in Sao Paulo City and died at seven years old on July 11, 1920 in that same city. No further information.
5. Ernest Smith
He was born on July 12 1917 in Sao Paulo City and died at the age of three in that same city, on May 22, 1920 two months before his sister Dorothy Julia died. No further information
4. Lelicia Iona Smith
Lelicia Iona Smith was the fourth child of Eugene and Susan Bowen Smith born on August 14, 1880 In Santa Barbara, Sao Paulo, Brazil and dying in Sorocaba, Sao Paulo, Brazil on March 22, 1967. On June 21 1903 in Santa Barbara, she married Edward Abram Thomas, the son of William Francis Thomas and Fanny Eliza Ferguson. He was the brother of Martha Ethel Thomas, the wife of Lelicia’s brother Charles. He died on July 10, 1925 in Santa Barbara and is buried at Campo Cemetery at Santa Bárbara d'Oeste, Município, São Paulo, Brazil. He looks to have lived his entire life in Santa Barbara area. Not much is known about their lives.
Lelicia and Edward would have at least eight Children:
1. Alfred Eduardo Thomas
Alfred was born on April 2, 1905 in Santa Barbara, Sao Paulo, Brazil and died on May 27, 1939 in Sorocaba, Sao Paulo, Brazil. He did marry and had at least one child. Name and information on his wife are undetermined. No further infor- mation.
1. Deyze Suzana Thomas
Deyze was born on July 2, 1939 and died on October 11, 2012 in Itanhandu, Minas Gerais, Brazil. No further information
2. Charles William Thomas
Charles was born on May 9, 1907 in Porto Feliz, Santa Barbara, Brazil, and died on August 23, 1937 in Sorocaba, Sao Paulo, Brazil. No further information
3. Fanny Susan Thomas
Fanny was born about 1912 in Sorocaba, Sao Paulo State, Brazil
and died in Sorocaba, Sao Paulo, Brazil on an unknown date. No further information
4. Lizzie Rosa Thomas
Lizzie Rosa was born about 1912 in Sorocaba, Sao Paulo, Brazil and died in Sorocaba, Sao Paulo, Brazil on an unknown date. No further information
5. Mary Alice Thomas
Mary Alice was born on about 1912 in Sorocaba, Sao Paulo, Brazil and died in Sorocaba, Sao Paulo, Brazil on an unknown date. No further information
6. Arthur Alonso Thomas
Arthur Alonso was born March 17, 1917 in Sorocaba, Sao Paulo, Brazil and died on August 12 1942 in Sorocaba, Sao Paulo State, Brazil. No further information.
7. Joao Smith Thomas
Joao Smith was born on July 4, 1922 in Sorocaba, Sao Paulo, Brazil and died on December 8, 1973 in Guarulhos, Sao Paulo, Brazil. No further information.
8. Rosa Elizabeth Thomas
Rosa Elizabeth was born on undetermined date, probably in Sorocaba, Sao Paulo, Brazil and died on December 30, 1994 in Sorocaba, Sao Paulo, Brazil. No further information.
5. Lucilia Smith
Lucilia Smith was the fifth child of Eugene and Susan Bowen Smith. Whe was born on July 10, 1889 in Ventania, Marillia, Sao Paulo, Brazil and died on June 17, 1950 in Piraçununga, Sao Paulo, Brazil. She married Moncrief Ithyma Terrel probably at the beginning of 1909. Moncrief was the son of Wiliam Thomas Terrell and Angelletta “Kitty” R. Green, both of whom were original Confederados, with the Green family having traveled with the Smith family from Texas on their journey. Moncrief was born on May 20, 1889 in Campinas, Sao Paulo, Brazil and died on April 19, 1948 in Piraçununga, Sao Paulo, Brazil. Not much is known about their lives. They would be the parents of at least five children.
(Above L - R) Moncrief, Lucilia, Henry, Horace, Susie and Olavo
(Left L - R) Olavo, Susie, Horace with Baby William Smith, Henry
(L - R) Horace, Baby William Smith on hood, Henry, Moncrief in car, Sussie & Olavo
1. Horace Eugene Terrell
2. Olavo Terrell
3. Henry Terrell
4. Susie Terrell
5. William Smith Terrell
1. Horace Eugene Terrell
Horace Eugene Terrell 1909–
BIRTH 28 DEC 1909 • Boituva, Sao Paulo, Brazil
No further information
2. Olavo Terrell
No further information
3. Henry Terrell
No further information
4. Susie Terrell
Susie married Adhemor Franchi in Brazil
Birth and death of Adhemor is unknown
No further information
5. William Smith Terrell
William Smith Terrell
No further information
Susie Terrell & Adhemar Franchi
6. James Smith
James Smith was the sixth child of Eugene and Susan Bowen Smith. He was born in Brazil and died unknown.
No further information
7. Hortencia Smith
Hortencia was the seventh and last known child of Eugene and Susan Bowen Smith. She was born in Brazil and died unknown.
No further information
3. Alfred Preston Smith
Alfred Preston Smith, known as Preston, was the third child of Alfred and Sarah Bryce Smith. He was born ib Carroll County Georgia on March 30, 1850 and dies in Sao Paulo State, Brazil on September 20, 1923 at the age of seventy-three. On February 14, 1878 when he was twenty-eight years old, in Casa Branca, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, he married Izabel Libania Rodrigues Da Silva, birth and death undetermined but it would be assumed she died after 1902 in Brazil. Not much is known about Preston and his family. Being that some of his children were born in Sao Jose do Rio Pardo, Sao Paulo State it would be likely that this was his residence.
Preston and Izabel would have at least nine children
1. Albert Smith