By Frances Woodruff Martin
Mrs. Martin now lives in Birmingham, Alabama, with
her son, J.A. Martin, vice-president of the Birmingham Ledger.
To tell of our life at home, with our dear father
and mother, is like smiling as we hum an old song that we love from
association.
Our father rarely ever brought his editorial work
home. He had enough of it in his office, at our old home on the corner
of Scott and Markham streets. So when his day’s work was done, he
saddles his horse and home he rode to be joyfully met by his devoted
wife and children.
The usual home-coming greetings over, he went
straight to his garden, orchard or field, which recreation he enjoyed
thoroughly enjoyed. Although he was not a practical farmer, he made up
in theory what he lacked in practice. He always kept a first class
gardener, generally a Scotchman or a German. Our garden (consisting of
two acres) was beautifully kept and was much admired by friends and
visitors as Shaw’s garden in St. Louis. The wide borders around the
vegetable beds were devoted to our mother’s flowers, rare and
beautiful. She loved every flower in the garden, but our father was
fondest of old time clove pinks, carnations and roses. I remember a big
Damask rose that grew near the garden gate. He grew it himself from a
cutting given to him by Mrs. Jake Ryder, the mother Mrs. Cassie Newton.
How we loved to trot around after our father, asking questions (woman
like) which he never failed to answer in language so pure and simple
that our childish minds found no difficulty in understanding him. How
it would amuse us, when we were helping gather strawberries and
raspberries, and he would tell us we must “whistle while we worked.”
We knew he meant that our berry-stained lips would betray us when an
unusually luscious berry would tempt us to taste instead of whistle.
Our garden was a veritable Paradise to us, and rides and walks with our
parents through the woods and all over Fourche Mountain were “a joy
forever.” Father would tell us the names and uses of every tree, shrub
or weed, and caution us against those which were poisonous.
Our mother was a typical Southern gentle-woman, and
her every thought was to make our home pleasant, so that when our father
came home tired and worn out, with faithful, earnest work for the good
of his state of adoption, dear old Arkansas, he could rest, not exactly
under the shade of his own vine and fig tree but under the shade of the
grandest old oak trees that ever grew.
About the first thing I can recall was father’s
telling us of his leaving his old home on Long Island, and traveling on
horseback through the country, until he reached Pittsburg, Pa. I
remember him telling me of a beautiful old tree that shaded his window
and desk in Franklin, Tenn., where he worked for some time. Then he
decided to go “West” to the newly opened Territory of Arkansas. So he
bought a second-hand printing press and proceeded by way of the rivers
to the Post of Arkansas. There he obtained a log cabin, which served
him as a home and office. He boarded with a nice old French lady, who
pounded her coffee with a mortar with a pestle and served hot boiled
rich milk with it instead of cream. He had two hogshead sunk in the
ground outside his log cabin, which he kept filled with Arkansas river
water and covered with heavy blankets. The water soon settled and was
so clear and cool that his friends often dropped in to enjoy it.
We lived in the “old home” on Markham street until
we children were large enough to need more room to frolic to our hearts’
content, for we were tired of playing on the sidewalk. Then father
bought 23 acres of land just outside the city limits and built a
beautiful home, so full of comfort and so roomy that we all preferred
staying at home and to have our friends come to us, which they certainly
did, and our father and mother enjoyed the week-end guests and took part
in our romps and games. The ground of this place was so poor and
unpromising that father called the home “Poverty Hill.” It is now a
thickly settled neighborhood on East Ninth street between Rector Avenue
and College street. When we girls were older and had men visitors it
was just the same. Our parents knew all of our friends and made them
welcome to their home and hospitality.
When the Federal army took possession of our City
of Roses trouble came to our parents in earnest. All their property was
confiscated and in order to procure all the necessities of life they had
to take the oath of allegiance. By their doing so and taking Federal
officers to board we managed to live very comfortably until father was
unfortunate as to write a letter to a friend in Hempstead county to
explain why he had take the oath. All of our letters had to be
“examined and approved” by the provost marshal and if not approved they
were not allowed to be sent to our southern friends. Our father’s
letter made the Federal authorities so angry that the order came for
banishment of the whole family. Mother and Mary and I were allowed to
remain at home on taking the oath. We did not want to impose upon our
friends in Hempstead county, who generously offered to give a home to
our father and my sister, Elvie, who was a red hot Rebel and would not
take the oath. She accompanied him to Washington, Hempstead county,
where they stayed for several months, when they were permitted to go to
Louisville, Ky., where my sister Mrs. John Jabine, lived.
During our fathers absence our home was taken from
us, with the exception of two rooms. It was used as headquarters for
the officers of a negro regiment. The officers were all white men and
tread my mother and sister and myself very nicely, but their wives were
far from agreeable. After a few months these officers were required to
find another residence, because our house was taken for a hospital for
Federal Officers. We were well treated by the surgeon in charge and
allowed to stay in our two rooms until they were needed for new
patients. Then my mother and little brother went to live with my
brother, A.M. Woodruff. When the war was over our furniture was
returned to us and we were allowed to move back to our dear home, but it
never again seemed like the same place to me, for our father and mother
were broken in fortune, health and spirits and did not long survive.
The Woodruff Genealogy
The ancestry of William Edward Woodruff is traced
accurately to Thomas Woodrove, twelve generations, the present living
three generations bringing it to the fourteenth.
- Thomas Woodrove was born at Farthwick on the
Stour River, near Canterbury, Kent, England, in 1508; died 1552.
He was “The trusted envoy of the town on journeys perilous” at the
times of Henry VII and Henry VIII. Later on, he was a Jurat or
Judge and sat on his brothers magistrates in their courts at
Farthwick.
- William Woodruff, his son, “Keeper of the Town
Chest,” also a Jurat died in 1579, leaving two sons, William and
Robert, both freemen in 1580 and entitled to Borough privileges.
William died.
- Robert Woodruffe was born ----; lived to
1611. His wife was Alice Russell. Their son
- John Woodruff was born at Farthwick in 1574.
He moved to Northgate with his uncle, William Russell, and died in
1611, leaving his property by will to his beloved wife Elizabeth and
his son John. Elizabeth Cartright Woodruffe married her husband’s
friend John Gosmar. He had one daughter, Anne. John Woodruffe
married Anne Gosmer in 1637. Religious intolerance caused John
Woodruffe to leave England. He was a Dissenter and a Free Thinker.
- John Woodruffe emigrated to America with his
wife and son, John, who was born in England and baptized in 1637.
His mother and stepfather accompanied them. They stopped at first
at Lynn, Mass. They removed to South Hampton between 1637 and
1640. They had two sons whom they named John. The first one went
to New Jersey.
- The younger John Woodruffe remained in South
Hampton. He had ten children. He was the ancestor of William
Woodruff.
- Nathaniel Woodruff, fourth son of John
Woodruffe, dropped the final letter “e” from his name and from that
time has been written without it. Nathaniel Woodruff, “the Weaver
of South Hampton,” had nine children.
- Nathaniel Woodruff, his eldest son, also a
weaver, moved with his son, Matthew to Fireplace, Long Island. The
name was given by the Indians on the account of an old chimney and
fireplace of long standing in that locality. It was still there
when William E. Woodruff left in 1819. Nathaniel Woodruff bought
from Mica Mills a tract of land four miles square for ₤1,200 (6,000)
sterling. The deed is filed at River Head, L.I.
- Matthew Woodruff, grandfather of William E.
Woodruff, had six children.
- The eldest, Nathaniel, was the father of W.E.
Woodruff. He was born November 12, 1774; died of pneumonia January
12, 1808, only a little over thirty-three years old, leaving his
wife, Hannah Clarke Woodruff, to rear five sons, of whom
- William Edward Woodruff was eldest. She gave
each one a trade. William Edward Woodruff served a seven years’
apprenticeship with Alden Spooner, a printer, at Sag Harbor, L.I.
Before his term had expired the War of 1812 had began. He enlisted
in a Reserve Corps, but did not see active service.
Maternal Ancestry
William Clarke, the great-grandfather of William E.
Woodruff, was born in 1709, died 1789. His wife was Mary Reeves.
William Clarke was of English descent and was related to Elder Brewster
of Mayflower fame. William Clarke, Jr., born in 1746, died in 1779.
His daughter Hannah married Nathaniel E. Woodruff, Sr. William Clarke
Jr., was a Lieutenant in the Continental Army. The muster roll of
Brookhaven town is still extant. Each soldier had 1 gun, 1 bayonet, 23
cartridges, 1 cartridge box, ½ lb powder, 3 lbs of balls and a flint.
William Clarke was captured and imprisoned on the
British prison ship, Jersey. He made his escape and came home one
night. His father, having taken an oath of allegiance to the King of
England, could not violate it by giving aid or comfort to the king’s
enemies, so he could not receive his own son.
William Clarke, Jr., was born in 1746, died in
1779. he died on the way home from the West Indies, at a small town in
Connecticut. His daughter Hannah Clarke, was born in 1774 and died in
1852; married Nathaniel Woodruff, father of William E. Woodruff. She
was a Presbyterian and her children were all baptized in that church.
Her son, William E. Woodruff, was a regular attendant of that church and
late in life joined it on profession of faith. Her husband’s early
death left to her the greatest responsibility of rearing alone five
sons.
When Judge Witter Visited the Gazette Office in
1819.
Judge Daniel T. Witter, who spent several days at
Arkansas Post some two months after William E. Woodruff had arrived
there, told in an article written many years later of seeing Publisher
Woodruff printing and edition of the Arkansas Gazette, with the
assistance of no less a person than Samuel C. Roane.”
Judge Witter was born in Connecticut in 1795. He
came to Arkansas in the last days of 1819 and in 1820 spent six months
at Little Rock, where he acted as agent for the sale of town lots. In
September of that year he moved to Hempstead county. H was a member of
the Territorial legislature in 1825 and again in 182(?) and was its
president in the latter year. He served four years as sheriff of
Hempstead county under Governor Izard, was for the third time a member
of the Territorial Legislature in 1831, was appointed receiver of public
monies at Washington, Hempstead county by President Jackson in 1832 and
county judge from 1845 – 1858. He died at Washington in 1886 at the age
of 91 years.
“In November, 1819, I set out from St. Louis, Mo.,
where I was then living to go to a point on the Arkansas river, then
known as “the Little Rock,” which in those days was always spoken of
with the definite article ‘the’ before it, to distinguish it from the
Big Rock, a few miles higher up the river. On the evening of the 20th
December, 1819, a large keelboat from St. Louis, bound for Fort Smith,
laden principally with provisions for the troops at that place, and on
which your correspondent was a passenger, entered the Arkansas river on
its destination upwards. The waters of the Arkansas river on its
destination upwards. The waters of the Arkansas had never been
disturbed, at that time, by the wheels of a steamboat. Progressing
slowly up stream, as was usual in those days, on the evening of the 25th
of December, we reached the Post of Arkansas, then the seat of
government of the Territory. Finding the water to low to proceed any
farther till a rise in the river, we were compelled to wait there
several days. Looking about the village, I one day made the
acquaintance of a Dr. Kay, then a resident of the Post. Among other
things, heh told me that young man from New York had arrived there a
few weeks before with a printing press, and had commenced publication of
a weekly newspaper, called the ‘Arkansas Gazette.’ He kindly proposed
that I should walk with him to the printing office, and he would
introduce me to the new editor. I gladly accepted the proposition and
went with him, and on entering he introduced me to his friend, Mr.
Woodruff – the same little old white-haired gentleman you often see in
the streets of Little Rock, apparently as active and as brisk now as he
was then – fifty-four years ago. Mr. Woodruff was at that time the sole
editor, compositor, clerk and devil of the office, and he had no
assistance in either department. He occupied a small French-built house
of two rooms, the largest of which was probably eighteen or twenty feet
square. In this room he had his type cases, his editor’s table, his
stove and his bed, with the other necessary paraphernalia of a sleeping
room and printing office; in the other a much smaller room, was his
printing press, fixtures and appurtenances. On taking leave, Mr.
Woodruff very politely invited me to call as often as my engagements
would permit, and as I had no engagements on hand at that time, I called
very frequently. Stepping in one day, I found him engaged at the press
in the little room. I seated myself at his table and looked over his
exchanges. I saw at my entrance that he had a young man assisting him at
the press…They soon worked off the form, washed and entered the room
where I was sitting. On entering, Mr. Woodruff introduced Mr. Roane,
who afterward sitting a few moments, rose and retired. I asked Mr.
Woodruff where he had picked up that pressman. He told me he was not a
printer but a lawyer who occasionally assisted him at the press. A
lawyer, I thought. It was, Mr. Editor, the late Judge Sam S. Roane, who
afterward acquired fortune and fame by a strict attention to his own
business. In our subsequent associations, the Judge and I had many a
hearty laugh over our first interview. Judge Roane subsequently held
several high and important offices and positions, discharging the same
ability and fidelity, and thereby securing for himself the respect and
applause of his fellow citizens…But I must go back to my friend
Woodruff. He still remained for some time the ‘man of all work’ in the
Gazette office, and, persevering, triumphed over many difficulties and
embarrassments, and succeeded in place the Gazette high in the
confidence and respect of its patrons, as well as his contemporaries of
the press throughout the country. Indeed, within two or three years
after its first establishment, Mr. Hezekiah Niles, of Niles’ Register,
then published in Baltimore, pronounced the Arkansas the best conducted
paper west of the Mississippi river; a high compliment indeed, as Mr.
Niles was then the admitted chief of American journalists.”
