May 1, 1901, marks several significant events in Gilmer’s meeting which took place in the courthouse, and for several weeks the bank conducted its business in the courthouse in the office of Joe Martin, then tax collector, while the new quarters were being built. May 1, 1901 marks several significant events in Gilmer’s banking life. On that date C. T. Crosby, who is now cashier at the Farmers & Merchants National Bank, began his banking career, at the First National Bank, and paradoxically, H. P. McGaughy, who is now president of the First National Bank, started out that day as a banker in Gilmer, as assistant cashier and bookkeeper with the newly organized Farmers & Merchants. Mr. McGaughy’s connection with the First National Bank dates from 1906, and he gained the presidency following the death of the late Dr. T. S. Ragland. Vice-presidents of the First National are L. G. Martin, who has been with the institution over thirty years, and V. E. Todd, who became connected with the First National at the time that institution took over the defunct State Bank. Mr. C. T. Crosby, meanwhile severed his connection with the First National Bank about 1908 and moved to Glenwood, Arkansas, where he conducted a mercantile business for three years. Returning to Gilmer in the fall of 1911, he joined the staff of the F. & M. Bank in January, 1912. The late J. P. Ray, who was acting vice-president of the F. & M. Bank when he died, had been with the bank since 1923.
And that’s a brief history of banking in Gilmer. Now, just one more backward glance to the names on that first called financial statement in Gilmer’s history, of April 13, 1900. They were: L. R. Hall, cashier; W. Boyd Sr., S. D. Futrell and J. W. Saunders, directors, and the documents were duly notarized by J. B. Oliver, notary public.
Sand on the Courthouse Square
It was said about the square that the sand was so flea-infested that if one picked up a handful of it, by the time the fleas had all hopped away, there was no sand left. The stock law probably killed the flea story, but under the paving the sand is still deep, believe it or not. And the editor of The Gilmer Mirror says that fleas still live in that sand, believe it or not. At least, he says they were very much alive when The Mirror installed a new press a dozen or more years ago. It was necessary to excavate about four feet to build a foundation and have a roomy pit under the press. In doing so, the fleas came out of their hibernation and for weeks kept everyone in the office scratching. Worse than that, the man sent here by the factory to install the press was apparently allergic to fleas. At any rate he was so flea-bitten and covered with whelps that he had to be examined by the county health officer to prove that he did not have the smallpox, as some accused him.
In the early fall of 1903, someone got the idea of aiding the farmers who might haul two bales of cotton to town, but could not make it through the sand and across the square. Often it would take two teams to pull one bale of cotton through the hub-deep sand. At that time there was a sawmill and planer in the northern part of town, and shavings were hauled and spread over the sand. Citizens marveled when they saw two horses trotting, get—trotting—across the square, pulling a bale of cotton. But the sand swallowed the shavings so quickly that this “paving” did not prove practical.
About 1907 the night train arrived about four o’clock in the morning. A passenger alighted, but decided it was too late to go to bed, instead he wandered to the deserted sand square. That morning another paving idea was born. This “unknown man” thought that a good solution would be to scrape down the clay hills joining the square and spread this clay over the sand to form a hard surface. As the merchants arrived on the square that morning, this dreamer presented his plan. He sold the idea so well, that by mid-morning, teams and scrapers were assembled and moving clay in. The south, west, and part of the north side were covered. This experiment was more successful, and made it easy to think through to crushed iron ore rock, the immediate predecessor of the present brick paving, which was laid in 1926 when Dick Denman was mayor. The deep sand of Gilmer is now only a memory.
Animals Had Free Run of Square
By Mrs. J. M. Hays
My first visit to Gilmer was about forty-five years ago, when I came here with my father and brother on a wagon loaded with cotton and meal. My father was a ginner, as his stock in trade. Coming up what was known as “Culberson Hill” our pair of fine mules almost let the wagon roll back down the hill. It was raining, muddy and boggy. But the mules got down on their knees and pulled, and finally made the grade. I felt sure the mud and slush would be left behind after reaching the city, but imagine my disappointment and disgust to find the streets and square shoe mouth deep in mud. We wore pretty high-topped shoes then, too—it took about two yards of strings to lace them up.
The square was really a friendly place for pigeons, ducks, geese, chickens, hogs, dogs, horses, mules, and people all mingled together with one common purpose—to profit from their labors. People were there to sell whatever they could find. The goats loved to go to court. In fact, they acted as door-bailiffs, resting in the shade of the courthouse porches, chewing their cuds, and unmindful of whether people could get into the building to testify.