My great grandfather, William Lonzo Kaneaster, was born in northern Georgia in 1861 and actually remembered both armies (Union and Confederate) going through the area by his home at the end of the war. The troops stopped for water and soldiers would bounce him on their knees. I guess it's a good thing they were "po' folks", so there was no need for those Yankees to burn the place to the ground. Many years later he drove a wagon as a profession and traveled around the west--you can tell the different places he and my great grandmother lived by the birth locations of the children. My grandmother, Hazel, was the youngest of their 11 children and was born in the Territory of Arizona.
Here's a picture of William and his wife, Mary Melinda Duke (born in Mississippi):
William's father was Josiah Kaneaster, who fought on the side of the Confederacy during the Civil War. William's mother was Sarah Hamblin.
William and Mary eventually joined the LDS Church, and when he was an old man, there was an article in a Church publication that talked about an incident that happened in the early days of the Church in Georgia. It involved the murder of a missionary--Elder Standing--at the hands of a mob. It just so happens that William was intimately involved with the incident, and he felt the story of the tragedy was not completely told. William decided to write down his account of what happened.
For additional articles on this event, click here, here, here, here, and here
The Martyrdom of Joseph Standing - July 21, 1879
as remembered by William 'Lonzo Kaneaster
I am going to write a little history of the Joseph Standing martyrdom in the state of Georgia at my old home. He was killed on my grandfather's farm, an old place in the hills where no one liked to live. But I must tell this as I know it to be from the time the Elders first arrived in our community for I came across the LDS Biographical Encyclopedia, Volume 3, page 719 at the Mesa Temple while on research work and opened to the reports of that tragedy and found some important bits of information left out, although I don't blame anyone for doing it intentionally.
In the month of September 1878, I was staying with grandfather Kaneaster as a nurse. He had had an accident and got his collarbone and shoulder blade broken and I had to stay with him six days out of the week. On one Sunday morning in September the party that came to relieve me told grandfather the Mormons were going to preach at Smith Chapel at 10 o'clock. That was new to me. I went home to fix to go to hear the strange people and my mother asked me where I was going. I told her I was going down to the school house to hear the Mormons.
"My," she said, "I wouldn't go to make any such people as that congregation."
"Yes, Mother, I am going to see who they are, and what they have to say," I said.
About the same time my mother's grandmother, my great grandmother, was shining herself up to go and grandmother said, "Mother, where are you fixing to go?"
"I am going over to the school house to hear the Mormons and see what kind of people they are." So, she and I were all that went to listen.
Elder Standing sang the first Mormon song we ever heard, "O, Say What is Truth," and Elder John Morgan delivered the first sermon. He spoke two and a half hours as fast as he could talk, and he wasn't slow. When we got home, "Grandmother," said Mother, "what did you hear?" She pointed her finger and said, "I heard the first sermon I ever hear in my life." She was eight-five years young.
When I landed home Mother said, "William, what did you hear?" I told her I heard the best sermon I ever heard." That set my three mother's and Mother's sister, Aunt Molley Hamblin, to going and on New Years Day, 1879, these three mothers of mine were baptized by Elder Standing in the same water hole in the creek, besides several neighbors were baptized. Brother Standing and I were coming from town in February and on the way I asked him for baptism. He walked several steps with his face toward the ground and when he spoke he said, "William, I think you will be of more value out of the Church for awhile yet."
I told him, "All right, I will put it off for the present." I wasn't baptized until 1891, about twelve years later. Six years after, I was married.
Later on, Elder Standing and Brother Charles W. Hardy left our settlement and went to Fannin and Union Counties. In April Brother Hardy was released from his mission. He came to Varnell Station settlement to catch a train and failed to reach the depot in time. The train had been gone about ten minutes.
He came to our house and said to me, "William, if you will rustle in a few of the saints, I will hold another meeting." So my brother Mat and I got a nice little crowd together at my father's house and had the meeting. Just as the meeting concluded someone looked out and saw a bunch of men coming. This was the first mob. Elder Hardy asked the women in the house to raise the window and let him out. He did not want to cause any trouble. As he was going home, he left through a field of corn to reach the road he would travel to the railroad. They raised the window and this was the farewell day, April 20, 1879 to Brother Charles W. Hardy.
The next mob was about May the first when Brother Rudger Clawson came on his way to take up his mission with Brother Standing in Fannin County, about seventy-five miles east of Varnell Station. As my memory serves me, he only stopped one night in our settlement and went on his journey with team and hack.
The following night after Clawson was gone after we were retired and asleep, someone rapped on the front door. I got up and opened the door. This time it wasn't the Elders visiting us. It was a yard black with black looking men in the shade of night. The inquiring visitor said, "Where is the d----d Mormon preacher?"
I told them, "I don't know that it is any of your business."
Another spoke up, "Don't be too loud about it, there are seventy-five of us."
I told them, "I don't care if there are a hundred and seventy-five. Get out of the yard!"
Another little fellow spoke up, "Yes, we understand you've got a gun."
"Yes, and it is in my hand and your time is about up."
I was ignorant enough to think it an honor to shoot somebody. No thought of law entered my mind. They were soon gone from Joe Kaneaster's. Next they called on Brother Elledge. He was an aged man, his hair was gray. He had been captain in the Southern Army during the Civil War. He went to the door when the visitors rapped to see who his callers might be, but found it wasn't LDS Elders.
The inquiry was, "Where's the d----d Mormon preacher?"
He said, "I don't know that it concerns you, get out of my yard."
"There are 75 of us," said one of the party.
"Well," said Father Elledge, "there never were enough men made to scare me," and stepped inside for a gun. But someone had taken the gun and, he had no gun. He came back to the door in time to see the last man going out at the gate. This caused some little excitement, threats of what they would do. I was going to school at Varnell Station and sang some Mormon songs on the way going and coming to school. Brother Loggins stopped his son and daughter from going to school for fear the mob would take action on me for singing Utah and Mormon songs along the road.
Here is what I learned from the LDS Encyclopedia, Vol. 3 at the Temple. Brother Standing had a dream that bore on his mind and Brother Clawson and he came to Riley Loggins, one and a half miles from Henry Holstens, expecting to stop over-night, Saturday night, July 19, 1879, and were turned down absolutely. Brother Standing saw his dream being fulfilled and said, "Where can we go to get shelter for the night?" Mr. Loggins referred him to Henry Holstens.
They came on half a mile further and called at my father's house, rapped on the front door. I got up and found it to be Brother Standing and his new companion as we called him. I invited them in to stay all night and Brother Standing said, "No, we will feel safer at Mr. Holstens, as he is an old sheriff and has a reputation. We would like to leave our valises here until Monday." Then they said, "Dress yourself, William, and go with us." I slipped into my trousers and shoes and went with them to Mr. Holstens. On the way, Standing asked me if I wouldn't go to Mr. Housten Martin's in the morning and ask him to command peace. Martin told me he didn't see any disturbance to demand peace on.
I went from Martins to Holstens and told Elder Standing what Martin said, and my mother and her mother and grandmother and her sister, Aunt Molley Hamblin, were there a good portion of the day.
There was a mob along behind us Saturday night, the 19th. The mob lay on the cut-off trail where footmen and people on horseback cut over the hill instead of following around the hill. As I came back from Holstens, some whispering spirit told me to go around and I obeyed and took the road and was at home in bed while this bunch lay waiting for me under a pine tree on the top of the hill. I heard this later after Brother Standing was murdered and gone.
Sunday, July 20, 1879 had singing and conversing of the scriptures until late in the evening about 5 pm, when all went home. Above all, the Elders came first with us there under the trying conditions and persecution.
On Monday morning July 21, 1879, I went to school rather early. I had two miles to walk. Mother said I hadn't been gone long before the Elders came after their clothing. It was at Josiah Kaneaster's where they left their valises instead of Mr. Loggins where the history said they left the clothing, as it was Brother Loggins that turned them away and would not keep them.
Brother Loggins had stopped Jennie and Robert from going to school after the big mob turned out May the 1st, 1879 hunting for the Mormon preacher, Brother Rudger Clawson. This put great fear in Brother Loggin's folks. This is where his dream is fulfilled. This was in Whitfield County. Holsten lived in Catoosa County, one mile from us, and Mr. Loggins was a mile and a half from Holsten, but near the line of the two counties lay a mob of twelve ignorant men. I happen to know them: Jasper Nations, Hugh Blair, Dave Nations, Mac McCluer, Andrew Bradley, Joseph Nations, James Faucett, Benjamin Clark, Jefferson Hunt, William Nations, and A.L. Smith.
The Elders were on their way to Heywood Valley to a conference, when the mob was waiting on the road for them. The mob took the Elders up to an old wood road to a spring in a field near a house that was vacant at the time. No one lived here that year. These fellows knew it was an very isolated part of the county. On the way up to this place, my Grandmother Hamblin and her daughter, Aunt Molley Hamblin were going over the hills through the woods trying to overtake the Elders and tell them the mob was coming but were too late. They ran into the mob with the Elders. What these women had to say to the mob, I don't know, but it caused the mobbers to want to burn their houses. It was strongly threatened. I told some of them I would burn them 'til they would be tired of fire.
Tom Nations and Holsten rode out to public places and told that when these old ladies were burnt, the fire was just started. Dr. Wells and Mr. Headrick drove out to the public places and told the people to hush that fire talk, nobody wanted his property burnt. The Mormons would furnish these fellows money to leave on.
But let's go on up the draw to the spring where Elder Standing was shot down in cold blooded ignorant prejudices. After Brother Clawson had layed his companion out and was let go of the mob, he went to Holstens and told the sad story. Holsten had gone home, but Miss Kate Holsten had gotten Brother Clawson horse, saddle, and bridle and directed him to Catoosa Springs, about four miles from where the coroner lived. On his way he met seven of the mob that came over the hill from the massacre. Brother Clawson was riding in a fast lope and these fellows asked him where he was going. He said, "I'm going west," which he was and while he was gone for the coroner, Miss Holsten and old Granddad Leatherwood went up to where Standing was. He was yet alive but was unconscious with a small pistol bullet in his forehead, just a little above the eyes and between the eyes. There were so many men running from one tree to another and from one thicket to another, the old man and Kate Holsten got afraid to stay and went home. When the coroner came, the mob had shot him a second time with a double barreled shot gun, one lead where the first shot was and one above. It was done at close range. His right hand had about a dozen scattered shot about over the hand. All was scattered and no two were together. I never could figure that out; the two holes in his forehead were about large enough to turn a man's thumb around in without touching the fractured parts.
Late in the day or evening of this date, Aunt Matilda Huffaker met Jud Smith coming out of the woods on this same old trail from this place where Brother Standing was slain and Aunt Tilda said good evening to Smith. "It's a good day." She hadn't yet heard of the killing.
Smith said back to her, "Ah, law, the day of grace is gone." Later someone told the old lady what had occurred and she then could see what Jud Smith was mixed up in. This same man had killed a negro about three years before and was running from the law until James Tinsley of Dalton, Georgia, lay for Smith at Varnell Station at a beginning of a protracted Methodist meeting. He met Smith with his girl and was shaking hands and told Smith to stand and don't try to different or he would kill him. Then he led him out to one side and had another man put the manacles on Smith. Then Tinsley told Smith, "I will do all I can to clear you, it is the thousand dollar reward I am after." He went to jail and came out in self-defense and was cleared and turned loose.
A deputy sheriff of Dalton in Whitfield Co. Georgia, Henry Holsten, and Thomas Nations, a cousin to these four brothers in the mob, went into Tenn. about twenty mile to Charley North's place. North happened to be a brother-in-law to Nute Nations, Dave, Bill, and Joe Nations. Seven of this bunch were sleeping in North's barn and taking meals at North's and stating they would not be taken by anybody; but these three men got into the bunch just before daybreak in the morning and got a man a piece out of seven. The other four made their get-away through a corn field. These three captives were chained together and marched back to Georgia afoot, and they were informed on the start that if a mob came to release them, they would make breast works out of the prisoners and take their chances with the mob.
I saw men on horse back running after they had reached Georgia, trying to stir a mob and these three crying to anybody they met, "Don't come with a mob, they will kill us first." They stopped at Uncle Billy Morgan's place and ordered dinner. While Holsten and the sheriff were at dinner Jane Morgan, an old maid, went out to the shade tree by the road to give Tom Nations a cussing out.
She said, "Tom Nations, aren't you ashamed of yourself to be guarding your own blood cousins to jail?"
Tom said, "No, all I am ashamed of is that I haven't got the others." These three were landed in the county jail at Dalton, but were released by some reckless swearing of alibis by their friends.
I met Brother Rudger Clawson at the dedication of the Mesa Temple the first time he left Holstens with his dead companion for Salt Lake City about ten o'clock in the night of July 22, 1879.
It surely was a treat to behold his face again and hear him talk. My oldest daughter was with me. He told us about a trip he had made to view that spring just forty years later.
He said Brother ----- (I have forgotten the name) and I got off the train at old Varnell Station. The town hasn't improved a bit and we went over to the post office and asked the postmaster if he ever heard of a Mormon Elder being killed in that part of the country. "Yes, that occurred over here at Mormon Spring."
"Can you tell us how to go to get there?"
"Yes, you go this way so far and that way so far, you will soon be there. It is only two miles." They lit out like two tramps and found to their surprise that someone had built a new barn there in the forty years and there was a family living there.
Brother Clawson said they went up and called on them and asked them if they had ever heard of a Mormon Elder being killed in this part of the country.
"Oh, yes, that happened out here at our spring."
"Can you tell us any of the particulars how it happened?" and he said they told a pretty fare story about it up to where the man that was with him folded his arms to be shot and they stopped. He said, "We waited a moment to see if they were coming any further and then I went on and told them they were talking to the man that folded his arms to be shot and finished telling them the story."
"Yes, any of the Mormon people are more than welcome to come and view this ground any time." he said. "We went on to Dalton and called on the county recorder to see the court documents on the trial of these three that were caught in Tenn. The recorder stepped around and brought the documents forth. He wanted this friend to see them. He said, "They even thought enough of us to come down to the train and bid us goodbye when we were leaving. It surely was a wonder how prejudices had vanished away in the forty years."
I will tell you of the last time I was at this spring and old house where Brother Standing was cruelly murdered. It was on Sunday evening, two weeks after his death. I had put a small flour sack in my pocket on leaving home to go to this place to get some apples to make pies to take to school. I lay in the mill pond, swimming most too late. It was after sundown when I was going up to this place. The wild hogs had rooted the ground, upside down all around where his blood was spilt, and as I was passing over this place a warm breeze hit me. It was the strongest smell of blood that I ever experienced. The old house stood open and hard and looked lonesome. The big owls went hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo. The whip o' will was talking in all directions. I got some apples, but wasn't much stuck on stopping very long. I surely can tell you, Mr. Reader, with all sincerity that I know that the blood of the martyred cried up from the ground. This was nearly two weeks after and extremely hot climate, naturally all blood would have been gone if even there had been no hogs.
We left our old home for middle Tennessee the 26th of August, 1879. Left crop of corn in the field, they would not buy it. I have never been back to Georgia since that time. Brother Mat went back in 1913, went to the old home and called. An old lady with glasses on came to the door. Mat asked if this was where Joe Kaneaster lived.
She said, "This is where he lived, but he is dead now. I am his wife."
Mat said, "I am one of his boys." This was his first introduction to his stepmother. Our mother died at Manassa, Colorado in spring, 1880.
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