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Stagecoaches, Alabama style
Picture this in your mind. Do you see Gene Autry or Roy Rogers riding behind a runaway stagecoach? Not this time. These stagecoaches of the Mississippi Territory were right here in the mid-1820s where we live. They were well constructed, their routes well planned and passengers were plentiful. There was only one problem. Roads were practically impassable either from weather or rough terrain. Consider a trail just wide enough for one horse and rider with thick cane on each side as tall as a man on a horse holding up an umbrella. About 1806, this horse path, from Milledgeville, Georgia, to lower Alabama at Fort Stoddert, near Mt. Vernon, was proposed. In 1811, the path was widened to a military lane for the movement of troops and supply wagons, "who would confront the Creeks but quickly became a major pioneer highway- an artery for all travel" (from The Federal Road, by Henry Southerland, Jr. and Jerry E. Brown, published in 1989. Some of you might recognize Jerry Brown as being from Mitcham Beat, growing up here as a child before moving with his family between Grove Hill and Jackson.)
During the period called Alabama Fever, from 1814 to 1830, some walking, some riding, bringing all they had in the world with them, mostly from the Carolinas and other points north, the people, our ancestors, came to lower Alabama. The immigrants were one thing, but the visitors, well, that was another. Many were scholars seeking employment as teachers, journal writers hoping to publish a book back home in the northeast, and the wealthy English who came to see what this America was all about. All brought their sharp opinions but left us action-filled history. Eye witnesses in the formative years of Alabama, having no cameras, wrote what they saw and experienced. Traveling in the egg-shaped stagecoach, the Trenton, of 1818, must have been some kind of experience. Made of iron, brass, cloth, and wood, the Trenton was just one of several models including the Concord. The first coach line was started in 1821, in the Mobile-Tensaw Delta. From the Mobile area to Montgomery was a common route leading into Georgia and points beyond. A passenger's fare included meals along the way. Where in a wilderness do you feed stagecoach passengers? Taverns. Forget the usual meaning of the word and think log cabins; think small, crude inns around more thickly settled areas, such as Suggsville, Manila, Coffeeville, Claiborne, and Gosport. Mud Tavern and Hickory Hall were stage stops in the Manila- Suggsville area on the Mobile to Selma route. Along the routes were stops where the fresh horses were "staged," or pastured about every 20 miles, thus the name "stage" coaches. In the early 1830's, John Latrobe, a lawyer, traveling from New Orleans to Baltimore by stagecoach, described in his journal the meal which they were served at Claiborne, this way - "hog, and hominy, and cornbread, of which he was less than pleased- again." Traveling about four miles an hour, at a cost of about ten cents a mile, the trips could get interesting. Again using Latrobe's journal material, a quiet, country doctor rode for a short distance, but "he snored like an elephant when asleep…Kicks to the shin were necessary to make him more suitable company." The stages, lighted with pine knot torches, traveled all night. Latrobe told of two men who slept on the corn fodder on the floor of the stage, leaving him to use the seat for a bed. Anne Royall, author of travel books, took her "Southern Tour" by the usual route of New Orleans and St. Stephens. She jolted and bumped over bad roads and trudged miles on foot when a stage broke down, which was often. Stage drivers and tavern keepers tried to cheat Royall of what little money she had. There were also times when she was refused a bed because her sharp tongue and reputation had gotten there before she did. She argued constantly with the drivers and mailmen over her trunks, which contained books she hoped to sell. Often times, she had no money at all and lived on charity provided by the Masons or even complete strangers. After visiting at St. Stephens, in 1823, she traveled on to Madison County. Keen and sometimes controversial opinions characterized her books. One of these being, Letters From Alabama, 1817-1818. Hugh Finlay, a surveyor of the post roads in America, said, in his journal, that the southern "roads were so extremely bad in many places that we twice were obliged [within a few miles] to get out and clap our shoulders to the wheels, to assist the horses in drawing the stage up two hills; otherwise we must have remained there all night." Tyrone Power, an Irish comedian, told this story. I will summarize his lengthy story about the "BOX." Upon reaching Fort Mitchell, not far from the Georgia-Alabama line, our luggage was pitched in the mud by the coachman. After breakfast Power asked if the stage was ready. He was told their stage would be going no further. "By the agent's order, the BOX was to be taken on from this point and those wishing to go on with it could or those that did not might stay behind." With curiosity, Power walked down to the starting place and there stood, literally, the BOX, made of rough plank, eight feet long, three feet wide, with sides two feet deep, fixed on an ordinary coach axle with pole, hitched up and ready to go. Mail and luggage filled the BOX to over-flowing and on top of all we were to "fix our four quarters in as little time as possible." Power said that they were in a spot- "a choice between the BOX and the forest." Passengers quickly loaded into the BOX, holding on to luggage and taking care not to be jolted off. In his words, they "knew any favor of ease or comfort was quite out of the question." For once, to crawl at a snail's pace through the mud was a relief. Added to this the heavy clouds gathered and "when asked if a hurricane was coming, the driver replied: 'If the rain comes down pretty hard, we sha'n't have no hurricane, if it holds up dry, why, we shall.' Never did ducks pray more for rain than did the crew of the BOX, although without hope or thought of shelter." Night came. It rained. "An Indian camp was near by. Marching across a bridge, a quarter of a mile in length, in front of the BOX, they followed a Creek Indian guide dressed in a yellow shirt, legs naked, belt of scarlet, a crimson and dark blue shawl twisted turban-fashion around the head; locks of black hair streaming from under this- falling over neck and face- lighted up by his very strong torch. Passengers, having cleared the swamp, took their places on the BOXwagon, still lighted by the friendly Creek." A quick patter of horses and the clatter of the BOX were heard trailing into the Alabama night.
Joyce White Burrage is a retired Clarke County High School teacher who resides in the Chilton community.
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