Bonus Detour: Rabbit Trail Warning #3

It’s a very simple sign that identifies the fenced-in property in Anderson County, South Carolina, as the Simpson Cemetery. Perhaps the lack of fanfare is owing to the land being a family burial ground rather than a public cemetery. Find A Grave, a handy website for obtaining addresses and contact information for cemeteries, provides the location for this place only as “Pendleton, Anderson County, South Carolina.” No address. No street name. You just have to know where to find it.

The Simpson Cemetery, as we’ve seen, was the final resting place for Charles Edward Broyles’ maternal grandparents, Zacharias and Margaret Chew Carter Taliaferro—and for their two unfortunate grandsons, Charles’ brothers Zacharias and Richard Broyles. Originally belonging to Charles’ uncle, Congressman Richard Franklin Simpson, the property eventually was passed along to his son, Richard Wright Simpson.

Today’s rabbit trail will lead us to the story of how the Simpson Cemetery passed out of the hands of the family to its current owners. It all has to do with a friend and associate of Charles’ cousin—and his brother Augustus’ business partner—Richard Wright Simpson.

In the course of his professional life, Richard W. Simpson became the personal attorney of a neighboring gentleman by the name of Thomas Green Clemson. That neighbor had a dream—and he had the means to make that dream happen. He lived on a lovely estate, bequeathed to his wife, the former Anna Maria Calhoun.

If you are anything of a history buff (at least of the South Carolina variety), you may be wondering if there is any significance to the surname Calhoun. There is. Anna Maria was daughter of John C. Calhoun, former South Carolina congressman, senator, and member of the President’s cabinet in various capacities. And seventh Vice President of the United States, under both John Quincy Adams and Andrew Jackson—only one of two men in history so far to serve under two American Presidents.

During his tenure in federal government, of course he and his wife, his first cousin’s daughter Floride Colhoun, took up residency in Washington, D. C., especially at the start of Floride’s reign as “Second Lady,” a role in which she found herself embroiled in the social scandal that later was dubbed “The Petticoat Affair.” Among the other difficulties linked to the fallout of that unfortunate scene, her husband resigned his position as Vice President. Needless to say, the Calhouns soon returned to South Carolina.

The Calhouns’ lovely home in South Carolina was known as Fort Hill. The Greek revival architecture embellished a fourteen room residence, where Mrs. Calhoun was quite content to remain, even after her husband was subsequently elected to the U.S. Senate and returned to Washington. Though she was a capable manager, when her husband died in 1850, she faced a financial need to sell the property to her son and hold the mortgage. When that son died in 1865, Floride filed for foreclosure against his heirs, but in the process died, herself, the very next year.

The claims on Fort Hill embroiled the property in legal disputes for years afterwards, until it was sold at auction in 1872. Somehow, the executor of the Calhoun estate won the bidding war and the property—at least the residence and the majority of the land—ended up in the hands of John and Floride’s daughter Anna Maria.

Ah, I sense you were wondering if this Rabbit Trail was ever going to turn around and gain some momentum.

The Calhouns’ daughter Anna Maria was, by then, wife of Richard W. Simpson’s good friend and client, Thomas Green Clemson. She herself, however, passed away shortly thereafter—in 1875—and willed the property to her husband. (You see, the plot thickens.)

At that stage in Thomas G. Clemson’s life, he was envisioning an educational innovation, and was casting about for a means to make that a reality. A politician himself, he had served for a time as United States Secretary of Agriculture. Though born in Philadelphia, he considered South Carolina his adopted home state, and when he wasn’t traveling abroad, studying innovations in agriculture, he was serving as a strong advocate for implementing these concepts at home.

Having inherited Fort Hill from his wife, by 1886, his mind was made up: he would be the vehicle to jump start a project which was then only in discussion stage in the South Carolina legislature. The concept was that, using the university system of the day—a liberal arts model—was not a suitable academic backdrop for the more practical sciences such as agriculture and “mechanics.”

Through a series of intricate talks with South Carolina governor Benjamin Tillman and others—and through a close, and closely contested vote in the state legislature—a deal was brokered in which, on their part, the state would accept the terms of the will and establish a land-grant institution specifically for agricultural training. On his part, Thomas G. Clemson, now sole survivor of his immediate family, changed his will in 1886 to grant Fort Hill and its property to the newly-established college—a public school, should the legislature choose to accept his terms; private if the South Carolina politicians rejected the offer. By only one vote, the decision went to the affirmative.

By now, those of you familiar with institutions of higher education in the South may have realized that the property in question was the seed planted to found what is now known as Clemson University. But how does all that relate to my first cousin, four times removed?

If you recall, Augustus T. Broyles, the business partner (and, incidentally, first cousin) of Richard W. Simpson, was an expert in matters of last wills and testaments. Likely, so was his associate. It was through the sage advice and skillful maneuvering of Richard W. Simpson that Thomas G. Clemson added the 1886 codicil that stood firm in the face of yet another round of wrangling over the property, as Thomas' own son-in-law chose to contest the Clemson will. Apparently, Simpson defended the case all the way to the United States Supreme Court before it was settled in favor of the newly-established college.

The will showed that Thomas Clemson paid keen attention to detail, naming the governing body that was to launch the fledgling institution. Head of that board of trustees was none other than Clemson’s own personal attorney, Richard W. Simpson—the one who insured that the originating wording stood the test of legal attack, and the one who not only advised the benefactor in making his dream a reality, but after his passing, insured that the spirit, as well as the letter, of his will was carried out.

Richard W. Simpson served as President of that initial Board of Trustees until his death in 1912. Even after his passing, he sought to uphold the spirit of his friend’s gift by donating part of his own property to Clemson College. Today, the former Simpson property is used as Clemson University's agricultural experiment station. At the edge of that property is the Simpson family cemetery where the search for our mutual relatives led me to discover this history.

Nearly one hundred years after Richard Wright Simpson’s passing, the Anderson County Museum designated him as the 2011 inductee into their Hall of Fame. Nearby, on the Clemson University campus, two recently constructed residence halls now bear the name, Simpson North and Simpson South, in honor of his contribution to the establishment of Thomas Clemson’s dream.

I don’t suppose our family connection with attorney R. W. Simpson would have given this current generation of the family any bonus points in the agricultural college's admissions competition. While my daughter’s college major does start with the letter “A,” it wouldn’t quite fall within the right category. But it still makes me proud to know that that family member’s careful attention to detail made the difference for the nearly one hundred fifty thousand students who have since graduated from the dream that became reality, Clemson University.

Above: Photograph of Fort Hill, Clemson, South Carolina, from the Historic American Buildings Survey; courtesy United States Library of Congress; in the public domain. 

A Longer Detour

In order to unravel the tangle of surnames I mentioned yesterday, we’ll need to step back a generation from that of Charles, Thomas and their Broyles siblings. Specifically, we’ll need to examine the family of their mother.

Do the names Broyles, Taliaferro and Simpson connect? The short answer to our puzzle—as you’ve undoubtedly suspected—is: yes, the three surnames I mentioned yesterday are indeed related. You’ll see part of the connection immediately with the full name of Charles and Thomas’ mother: Sarah Ann Taliaferro Broyles. It is one of Sarah’s siblings who will lead us to the other connection—with the Simpson family and, specifically, why Sarah’s parents were buried in the Simpson family plot.

As we’ve already noticed, Virginians Zachariah and Margaret Chew Carter Taliaferro—along with the two Broyles grandsons that initiated this whole inquiry—were laid to rest there in the small South Carolina burial ground. In fact, Zacharias the grandfather joined his grandson within a week after the child’s death on April 8, 1831.

Among Zacharias’ and Margaret’s children was another daughter, Sarah’s younger sister Margaret. Born in 1808, the younger Margaret eventually married a South Carolina attorney by the name of Richard Franklin Simpson. Together, they raised a family of four sons and one lone daughter. One of those sons was Richard Wright Simpson—the same R. W. Simpson, if you remember, who was the business associate of Augustus T. Broyles, Charles’ and Thomas’ oldest brother.

Richard F. Simpson—the father—was a notable resident of Anderson County. A respected attorney, besides his military service, he also took up politics, serving both in the South Carolina state senate from 1835-1841, and as a representative to the United States Congress for three terms.

His son, Richard W. Simpson, seemed to follow in his footsteps. An attorney, he was also elected to the South Carolina legislature. As had the father, the son also served in the military—only in the younger Simpson’s case, it was as a Colonel in the Confederate Army. That was why, in Augustus T. Broyles’ obituary, it mentioned his business partner as “Col. R. W. Simpson.”

Of course, you now realize that Augustus T. Broyles’ business partner was also his first cousin. Their mothers were sisters. Likewise for Augustus' brother Charles, the renegade who fled to Colorado. Though we haven’t properly been introduced to him yet, also my second great grandfather, Thomas. And, of course, the two young Broyles boys—Zacharias and Richard—whose memorials still stand in that Simpson family graveyard.

All sorts of families have children buried in the family plots of their aunts and uncles, though. That is not unusual enough to warrant a blog post of its own. If you are thinking there is more to this story, you are right. Not in a direct way, though. That’s what will qualify tomorrow’s post as yet another rabbit trail. But I promise you: you won’t mind this detour.

A Shorter List

One fascinating aspect of genealogical research is how, over the generations, it uncovers the links between long-established families. Whether this is among immigrants who have traveled en masse to their new homeland, or among those whose roots reach far back within an insular community’s history, the exercise can reveal surnames weaving in and out of each other’s heritages.

In the case of Charles Edward Broyles’ family history, his roots in the Pendleton District of South Carolina lead us to find ourselves intertwined with some significant surnames of the area. This we find only as we return to our current mission: finding which (if any) of the Broyles siblings may have been the one leading Charles’ younger brother Thomas to meet his future bride in Georgia.

In approaching that mission, my original intent was to run down the list of Broyles siblings in chronological order. Yesterday, as we’ve already seen, we ruled out the oldest of the Broyles brothers, a man who lived and died in his home county—and, even more germane to the quest than that, was not in the least interested in pursuing the opposite gender, as he was an avowed bachelor.

Moving down the list to the next youngest of the brothers (after Charles), I realize the first difficulty with my strategy: not all of the brothers survived to adulthood. This not only leaves us with a shorter list of matchmaker candidates, but explains the apparent discrepancy you may have noticed in yesterday’s post, when Augustus T. Broyles’ obituary read,

            Capt. Broyles leaves four brothers and two sisters.

All told (and as I had mentioned yesterday), the Broyles boys would have each had seven brothers, if it had not been for the ravages of childhood diseases. While each of the next two brothers didn’t live long enough to have led their younger brother Thomas to his bride, today we’ll examine the brief life of each of these Broyles siblings.

The next youngest in the line of descent would have been Zacharias Taliaferro Broyles. Named after his maternal grandfather—and great-grandfather, as well—the youngest Zacharias was born on January 18, 1828, and passed away at the age of fifteen on January 30, 1843.

His younger brother fared even worse. The fourth-born son of Ozey Robert and Sarah Ann Taliaferro Broyles, named Richard Taliaferro Broyles, was born April 26 of 1830 and lived barely more than a year, dying on August 8, 1831.

What is interesting about these two Broyles children is the place where they are buried. Undoubtedly born at home in what eventually became Anderson County, South Carolina, it is of course no surprise to find them buried in a cemetery in that same county. It’s just that the cemetery is neither a Broyles family graveyard, nor a cemetery associated with either a church or their hometown. Furthermore, it is not the same cemetery where the rest of the locally-remaining Broyles family members were buried—they were laid to rest at Silver Brook Cemetery in Anderson.

The two Broyles boys are buried in a small family cemetery known as Simpson Cemetery. In Pendleton, the cemetery is clearly marked as the burial place of “Col. R. W. Simpson”—a name you may recall had surfaced in our exploration of the life of eldest Broyles brother, Augustus.

Why would Ozey Robert Broyles’ two young boys be buried in someone else’s family burial ground?  Even if it was the property of oldest son Augustus’ business associate, that fact was far from reality at the point of death of fourth son Richard, whose passing occurred when his brother Augustus was not yet ten years of age—hardly the season of life to be known as a high-powered attorney and business partner.

Yet there is no mistaking it: these two boys buried in the Simpson family's cemetery were Broyles children. The memorial marking the place where the first of the two sons was buried clearly announced,

Erected By his Parents To the Memory of Richard T. Broyles, Son of O. R. Broyles and Sarah Ann, his wife…  

In fact, in pulling back from the details of each of the boy’s headstones to get the bigger picture of the entire cemetery, it was helpful to take in a list of all the names of those buried at this Simpson family cemetery. Note how not all of those buried in this place were Simpsons. Besides the plots for the two Broyles boys were the final resting places for their maternal grandparents—Zacharias and Margaret Chew Carter Taliaferro.

While pursuing the connection between these three surnames—Broyles, Taliaferro and Simpson—may not lead us closer to our goal of discovering Thomas and Mary Broyles’ matchmaker, it does reveal a host of intertwining associations. And with this mother lode of all rabbit trails, we’ll need to set aside at least one additional day to explore the possibilities.

See what I mean about fascinating connections?

Rabbit Trail Warning #2

On our way to discovering who it might be that served as unofficial matchmaker between my second great grandfather, South Carolina native Thomas Taliaferro Broyles, and his Georgian bride, Mary Rainey, I figured the most methodical way to eliminate possibilities would be to go down the list of the seven Broyles brothers and their two sisters. Of course, that path was rife with rabbit trails.

But I warned you.

Here, as promised, is today’s diversion from the task at hand. It has to do with the oldest of the Broyles boys, Charles Edward Broyles’ oldest brother by only a year and a half. Like Charles, a lawyer. Unlike Charles, a confirmed bachelor—thus eminently unqualified to serve as schemer behind his much-younger brother Thomas’ demise marriage in Georgia.

While he was hardly the prime suspect for matchmaker, Augustus Taliaferro Broyles was a well-connected professional in his hometown in Anderson County, South Carolina. Born in 1824 to Ozey Robert and Sarah Ann Taliaferro Broyles, A. T. Broyles (as he was later known) apparently became a formidable attorney whose reputation may actually have outlived him.

At his passing on April 7, 1904, two newspapers outside Anderson County also carried reports of his death. Perhaps, because of his involvement in both law and politics, it was understandable that there would be mention of it in Columbia’s The State, published at the state capital. Predictably, the November 9, 1904, entry appeared in the first column of the seventh page, under the heading, “Deaths in South Carolina.”

Capt. A. T. Broyles

Special to The State

            Anderson, Nov. 7—Capt. A. T. Broyles died at his home in this city today at 1 o’clock. He was 81 years old. He was a graduate of the South Carolina college, a captain in the Confederate army and a lawyer of distinction. He served several terms in the legislature, but devoted most of his time to the law. Before advanced age incapacitated him, he was a very active man and considered one of the best informed lawyers in the State. He was never married.

The capital’s leading newspaper, however, did not get the scoop on Charleston’s The News and Courier, which edged out its competitor with a front page article on November 8.

Death of Capt. A. T. Broyles

Eminent Lawyer of Anderson, a Confederate Veteran and a Confirmed Bachelor, Living to the Age of 80 Without Marrying.

            Anderson, November 7.—Special: Capt. A. T. Broyles, formerly one of the most eminent lawyers of the State, died at 1.30 P. M., aged 80. Death resulted from the infirmities of age and from an attack of incipient paralysis. Capt. Broyles leaves four brothers and two sisters. He was a member of the Legislature before the war, and during the war he was a lieutenant and later a captain in the 4^th South Carolina volunteers. He was disabled and transferred to Anderson as enrolling officer. After the war he entered a partnership with Gen. J. W. Harrison and later with Col. R. W. Simpson, of Pendleton. He was a famous office lawyer and a genius in equity. He never married. The funeral will take place at 3.30 P. M. to-morrow.

One would suppose that the attention paid to this man’s passing might have been the result of his involvement in the Civil War on behalf of his beloved South. After all, inscribed on his memorial, besides the expected, “devoted, faithful son and brother,” was not only a nod to the “lawyer and scholar,” but also to his supporting role for “the welfare of his country.”

Yet, according to a December 1 follow-up in The State, there was more—at least for those readers at the capital persistent enough to discover this entry parked on the tenth page:

Valuable Legal Paper.

Treatise on Wills, Testaments, Etc., by Capt. A. T. Broyles

Special to The State

            Anderson, Nov. 30—Capt. A. T. Broyles, who died a few days ago, left in manuscript form a lengthy treatise on wills and testaments and the law of executors and administrators. The manuscript is still in its rough state, death having come upon the aged lawyer before he could revise it for publication. It is not yet known what disposition the family will make of the manuscript. Capt. Broyles was an able lawyer, and the treatise is doubtless one of great value.

Not to be outdone in its coverage of the now-deceased expert on wills and testaments, the very next day, The News and Courier, added their own report on page 6.

Capt. Broyles’s Book.

Able Barrister of Anderson Left Treatise on Wills and Testaments

            Among the personal affects of the late Capt. A. T. Broyles was a manuscript volume upon which he had spent years of patient toil and research, says the Anderson Mail. It was a treatise upon wills and testaments, and the law of executors and administratrices.

            Members of the local bar have known for years that Capt. Broyles has had this treatise in course of preparation, and have looked eagerly from year to year for its appearance from the press. It was recognized that no lawyer in the State was more competent to write on the subject, and Capt. Broyles’s marvelous learning and his knowledge of authorities and references were assurances that the book would make one of the most valuable current contributions to legal lore. The book was written out and finished, in rough draft, but had not been copied. It is probable that his heirs will make an effort to put it into shape for the press, but, owing to the illegibility of Capt. Broyles’s peculiar handwriting this will be a tedious and lengthy task. It will be more than worth the while, however, and all practitioners who knew of Capt. Broyles’s ability will be anxious to see his masterpiece given to the profession in permanent form.

Did the book ever get published? A search on WorldCat didn’t seem to reveal any such tome. Perhaps that “peculiar” hand got the best of its copiers.

 Above: Photograph of Anderson County Courthouse Square, from about the time of Augustus Broyles' passing. Courtesy Wikipedia; in the public domain.

Rabbit Trail Warning #1

I get too caught up in these stories of family members from so long ago. Sometimes, I have to yank myself back to the present and remind myself to be more focused on my mission.

Yes, I remember, my goal in seeking Broyles family members in Georgia—instead of South Carolina where they grew up—was to find the nexus that led to my second great grandfather’s marriage to the nearly-unheard-of Mary Rainey of Columbus, Georgia. Who was she? More appropriately, who were her parents? And what happened to them during the Civil War? Is there any trace of a record that can clue me in to the possibility that Mary’s mother was herself a Taliaferro, as was the household of the family with whom she resided at the time of the 1870 census? Besides all that, how did a man who grew up in South Carolina and lived in Tennessee manage to find himself a bride at the western border of the state of Georgia?

So, there are my marching orders. But I can’t continue that long march just yet. I’ve run into some roadblocks that are simply too fascinating to bypass.

Actually, there are two of them. Yes, two excuses to engage in some reconnaissance down those unprofitable rabbit trails. But I warn you: if you follow me there, you are going in, eyes wide open.

I’ll discuss the first of these two detours today, as a follow up to reader Intense Guy’s comment providing a link to a newspaper article about the 1889 death of Charles Broyles’ son, Price. Tomorrow, I’ll follow up with the second tidbit as I begin going down the checklist of potential matchmakers among Thomas’ Broyles siblings.

Since I am not a subscriber to the Newspapers.com service where Iggy found the Atlanta, Georgia, news report, I went looking for that 1905 citation at NewspaperArchive.com, where I do have a subscription. I discovered that, just as NewspaperArchive.com allows non-subscribers two free views per day from their collection, Newspapers.com evidently allows free access to the OCR rendering of the newspaper page in question. Thankfully, as the copy is very faded—to the extent that my search at NewspaperArchive.com didn’t bring up this result—and I had to call up the newspaper edition itself, following the OCR readout obtained through Iggy’s lead, to locate the article. At any rate, if you are a subscriber of either, you can find the NewspaperArchive.com version of The Constitution's report here, and that of the Newspapers.com version here.

Oh, what a miserable sixteen years it must have been for Price Broyles’ former friend—and murderer—from the point at which he “made his escape” after firing those fatal five shots in Chattanooga.

Elmore Johnson Acquitted

With His Wife He Leaves Chattanooga for Atlanta

Chattanooga, Tenn. May 10—Elmore Johnson, charged with the murder of Price Broyles which occurred sixteen years ago was found not guilty here today. Johnson pleaded self defense. Immediately after the killing, Johnson left the city, and was not heard from again until last November when he gave himself up to the police in Jonesboro, Ark. A week later he tried to commit suicide, but was unsuccessful. Johnson and his wife left tonight for Atlanta, where they will reside in the future. Johnson’s family is well connected.

Goes Both Ways

With so many people in Charles Edward Broyles’ generation heading west, it seems it was hard to recall that one could reverse course and actually, you know, also head east. Though Charles’ “second family” had apparently wondered “why none of them came to be with the Colonel,” at least one of the latter family had made the effort to reverse course.

The oldest surviving son of Charles and his second wife, Nellie—named Taliaferro Brooks Broyles, though he in later life chose to spell his given name as it was pronounced, “Toliver”—actually spent a few years of his young adult life back in Georgia. According to the Broyles genealogy published by Montague Laffitte Boyd in 1959, Toliver stayed for a while with two of his half-brothers.

Even the author, though, got confused with the relationships, mentioning Toliver’s visits with his “uncle” Charles and his “uncle” Robert. Setting aside that trifling error—see, this family can be confusing, can’t it?—it appears he spent two years with one half-brother, then another year or so with the second one.

Toliver arrived in Georgia in 1904, at the age of eighteen. His first stop was at Ringgold, home of his oldest half-brother, Charles—yes, you know: the other brother Charles. This Charles, if you remember, was portrayed as a scholar, so perhaps that was why the younger Broyles son was sent east to this particular household, for he arrived in Ringgold to attend school. There is no mention of whether this was to enroll in college, or to complete a high school education—although Ringgold’s proximity to the Tennessee border could introduce the possibility of Toliver’s attendance at the college which now is known as the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga.

By 1906, Toliver had moved to Atlanta to stay with another half-brother, Robert. This particular Robert Augustus Broyles, as we mentioned yesterday, became quite successful in business, operating a series of grocery stores bearing his name, R. A. Broyles, in the state’s capital.

Toliver didn’t stay in Georgia permanently, of course. Perhaps, though, a little bit of the South stayed with him on his return to Colorado. Not long after arriving back in Antonito, Toliver met and eventually married Minnie Hartley, a young woman whose heritage was rooted in North Carolina. Close enough, perhaps, to remind him of his years spent with that “other” Broyles family in Georgia.

The Fallout of Parenthood

I’d say most parents would do almost anything to protect their children from experiences that might be harmful to them. There is that innate human tendency to put the care of the next generation front and center in life. When one’s own life gets messy, however, that natural response may find itself getting set aside.

I’m not sure what the dynamics might have been between Charles Edward Broyles and the children of his first wife, Lucy Johnson Broyles. Obviously, there was a parting of the ways—although, according to his journal, it was temporary and for pragmatic reasons of family support. Still, when Charles left his family home in Dalton, Georgia, in 1875, he left behind seven surviving children, including two sons under the age of ten, thus deprived of their father’s presence in such formative years.

What became of those children? The ones from the first family in Georgia ranged from age twenty five to age seven—if, indeed, that youngest son had even survived that long, as I don’t find his name in the 1880 census.

We’ve already discussed the eldest son of Charles and Lucy—Charles, junior, who headed west to visit his father in Colorado but returned to Georgia by 1880. What did he do, once he returned to his home state? While I can’t find much detail on his life, he was reputed to be “a literary scholar of universal attainment,” according to the Broyles genealogy published by Montague Laffitte Boyd in 1959. The Boyd book mentions that, like his father, the younger Charles served in the Georgia state legislature, and I have found news articles supporting that.

It was the younger Charles’ wife, however, who, after his passing, attracted attention as a published author of a romance novel with a Southern flair. Called The Jessamines, it was billed in reviews as her “first book,” though no further titles could be found. The author, the former Sarah Rebecca Hightower, lived with Charles in the mountains of north Georgia in the town of Ringgold. Apparently, they had no children of their own.

Charles’ second and third children were both daughters, who each ended up marrying doctors. Laura, the elder, married Montague Laffitte Boyd (father of the author of the Broyles genealogy), and her sister Sarah Ann married Arthur Franklin Boyd, son of Montague Boyd’s half brother. Both families were well established in Georgia.

The next of the children of Charles and Lucy was Joseph Frank Broyles, who eventually followed his father out west, settling in Utah and raising his family there.

Alternately, the next son—Robert Augustus Broyles—chose to remain in Georgia. He, too, had been one of those sons refusing his father’s help in setting him up in business, opting instead to work in “railroading.” But somehow, that early business training must have grown on him, for R. A. Broyles, Sr.—as he became known in Atlanta—was one of the first to establish what later were called chain grocery stores. An old photograph, which you can view here, shows one of his storefronts, circa 1927, from the collection of the Atlanta-Fulton Public Library System.

The remaining two sons, who were just young boys when their father left home, were Price and John Broyles. John, born in 1868, appeared only in the 1870 census, and may possibly have died before 1880. His brother Price, however, survived to adulthood—but not much longer. Apparently, the very thing his mother Lucy had feared about the “more trying and hazardous” nature of “railroading” turned out to lead, indirectly, to his untimely death—though mercifully, his mother never knew of it.

From an unidentified newspaper clipping dated November 14, 1889, came the brief explanation:

Elmore Johnson and Price Broyles, two firemen on the W. A. R. R., had a difficulty in Chattanooga Sunday morning which resulted in the death of the latter from five pistol shot wounds, one of which pierced his heart. They were both young men, and had been warm personal friends up to the time of the difficulty. Johnson made his escape.