My Father’s First Love
Necessarily now I must revert a bit to the Henry Tilton family, several of his grandchildren having been schoolmates of mine—one of them being my classmate and seatmate for most of my grade school years. Mr. Tilton was a very enterprising businessman. In the days when he was in good health, he bought and sold cattle, often driving them into neighboring states where he was able to reach a better market for his stock.
My father was in love with one of Mr. Tilton’s daughters, a lovely girl. He had bought the ring and would have married her except for two incidents that he told his parents about. They gave a strong veto upon the marriage as a result of these situations, and all of it probably made him a bit uncertain as to whether he was making a wise choice even in his own judgment.
Mr. Tilton kept a stable of fine horses, and the girls had their own beautiful rides with expensive saddles. The family rode in style, with well-cared for carts, buggies, and so forth, whenever the occasion came for them to go out.
One cold, rainy November day when Mrs. Tilton decided to have the relatives on her side of the family over for dinner to celebrate a birthday. Also invited were some friends and neighbors, including my father as Mrs. Tilton’s prospective son-in-law.
Mr. Tilton arrived unexpectedly from an out-of-state cattle drive, soaking wet, cold, and in a very bad humor. Dinner was on the table and the guests had started to come into the dining room area when he stepped inside the door and asked what was going on. Upon being informed, he took off the wet coat, laid down his riding crop, and proceeded to kick over the dinner table with food, dishes, and all flying every which way.
The second incident occurred when Mrs. Tilton knocked at the parlor door and asked her daughter to step outside a moment as she wished to speak with her. My father waited in the parlor while they had some angry words, and although he did not actually see it happen, he heard the daughter knock her mother down on the porch floor, then saw the girl come back in as if nothing had happened. She then seated herself at the organ and remarked, “Come on, Georgie, let’s sing.”
My father joined her and she played, while they sang, “All alone, all alone, he’s gone and left me, and no other’s bride I’ll be, for a mansion he has left me in the cottage by the sea.” The song contained several verses, but they sang it from beginning to end, and that was my father’s last visit to the home of his betrothed, except to end the engagement as honorably as possible.
The young woman later married and lived above Eagle Mills, but the marriage ended in divorce at the McArthur Courthouse. The newspaper carried a story such as this:
When her brother was on the witness stand testifying on her behalf, her sense of loyalty to her husband apparently overcame her other feelings, and she picked up a brass cuspidor, throwing it at her brother and striking him in the head.
He was injured rather badly, and I have heard him say, in my own home, that the blow to his head and the fact that he was put to off-bear on his father’s sawmill at age 10 had injured his health for his entire lifetime.