Readers of The Kentucky Explorer have been introduced to the
Rev. John J. Dickey in past issues. Remember that he was a traveling
preacher throughout the eastern part of the state during the
years between 1880 and 1925. He helped to establish numerous
churches and at least two colleges. He was also a teacher and
a newspaper editor. However, his most enduring gift to us today
may well be his diary that he kept faithfully during some 50
years of his later life beginning in the 1880s. In all, over
6,000 pages written in his own hand make up this interesting
White, when drinking, fell into a salt kettle and came near losing
his life from the burn. He sent for Dr. William Reed, father
of Dr. Stephen Reed. He refused to come. "Let him die and
go to hell," the doctor said. He had refused him his daughter,
Susan, in marriage. "Old Alex White, himself a great drinker,
a brother-in-law of Dr. Reed who married sisters Brauners, persuaded
him to go. After he had dressed the burn, General White handed
him $100 bill expecting him to give him change. He held out his
hand, "Another," said Reed. "No by the heavens,
do you mean to break me up?" said Reed, and he did so. When
Garrard was perhaps 75 years old, he went to Beattyville and
proposed marriage to Priscilla McGuire, a daughter of James McGuire,
sister of John G. McGuire's wife, and half-sister of Mrs. Harvey
Lucas, deponent. She was an old maid, 50 years old. She declined
his offer. General White was a noble specimen of manhood, one
of the handsomest of men. He could primp his mouth and give to
his face a peculiar charm. He was a heavy drinker but quit later
in life. General Garrard was in the legislature when his sister
married James White, son of General Hugh White. So bitter were
the feelings between the families that he wrote to her that he
would sooner see her go to her grave. Old Alex White drank heavily.
He was the father of Mrs. Captain Byron. Mrs. James White is
still living. She lives in Richmond, Madison County, Kentucky.
She visits Clay every summer. I was overseer for several of the
Whites, and I knew them well. They were great moneymakers. I
worked for James and Dougherty White. My stepfather, Pearce Cottongin,
used to steer salt boats, but I never did. My grandfather, Richard
Lucas, was a man of great physical power. He was a drummer in
the militia. A man named Butts from Tennessee rode 400 miles
to whip him. He rode up to grandmother's saddler shop and called,
"Does drummer Lucas live here?" "Yes sir,"
the man said. "Well, I live in Tennessee, 400 miles from
here, and I have come to whip you," Butts said. "What
have I done to you?" said Grandfather. "Oh nothing,
I am the bully of Tennessee, and I understand you are the bully
of Kentucky. If I whip you I will be the bully of the world,"
stated Butts. "Well, do you want to fight tonight or will
you wait till morning? Well, get down and go in, I keep a hotel
and stay with me, it shall cost you nothing," said Grandfather.
"No, I won't whip a man and live off him, too," stated
Butts. He went to another hotel. The next morning they fought
after the manner of the times, and Grandfather was victorious.
The Tennessean seemed perfectly satisfied and returned to his
home. My grandfather afterwards joined the Methodist Church.
He was hospitable and big hearted.