Still Got Cotton in My Blood

Ilike to find and write columns about Rome or Floyd County citizens that changed local history. Many of our educators fall into that bracket. I have enough word space to talk about one — Palemon J. King, reported to be the author of the book on discipline.

Born in Greene County, Georgia in 1838 and educated at Mercer, he was at the University of Virginia Law School when the Civil War broke out. He left school and enlisted in the 8th Georgia Regiment “Oglethorpe Rifles,” which was encamped at what they referred to as Camp Bartow. He served four years, was in the major battles, never got a scratch, surrendered at Appomattox and walked home with his brother. Actually he walked on to Polk County, and took a teacher’s position near Esom Hill at a school ran out of Shiloh Church.

After two years in Cedartown, he moved to Cave Spring and started teaching at the Hearne Academy. He married Ella Sparks, whose father, Carter, was the president of the Hearne Board of Trustees. He was there for about 16 years, serving as principal of the school.

Plenty of Romans later recalled knowing or being students of “P.J.,” as he was called by friends. He was a powerfully built man of six feet and over 200 pounds. A kindly man, but one who insisted on having his way with the students under his care. His hair was thin, but long and white, and he wore a full beard. His coat was Prince Albert cut and always black, his trousers were black and his shirt stiff and white, his collar standing and his tie was usually a loose bow with long free ends, and he wore a sort of gaiter on his feet, with broad toe shoes and thick soles. He did have “specs” he used for small print that magnified his ice blue eyes. His appearance scared his first year students into behaving with not a word being mentioned.

He read from the Bible each morning some helpful passage. His idea about education was to let them learn, and if they refused, to take the consequences. He applied the “hickory oil” frequently.

There are a lot of stories surrounding P.J., but one in particular I like is the one concerning his student, Hal Wright (later a member of the Rome Bar).

Professor King viewed Hal as more or less wayward and good for nothing, and sure enough, Hal broke one of P.J.’s rules. But before Professor could get to him with a hickory, Hal ran out of the building. After reaching a safe distance, he stuck his thumb in his nose and waved his fingers at the professor. It is said he kept going and went all the way to Texas.

After two years he got in touch with his mother and said he wanted to come home. She agreed, but being an educator herself and dealing with unruly students, she told him he would have to return to school.

Hal agreed, but deep in his heart, he was hoping Professor King had moved on. Professor King hadn’t.

“Well, ’fessor, I’m back,” announced Hal, with a grin.

“All right, Hal, just take the front row desk and I’ll lend you some books until you can get your own.”

The day went peacefully and as school was letting out, Professor King asked Hal to hold over, that he wanted to speak with him.

Hal declined the invitation, left the school in a dead run. Hal had grown in two years, but so had the determination of the old war horse. Witnesses said he ran so fast his coat stood straight out in back and his beard was evenly divided and flying over his shoulders.

Little Cedar Creek was about 15 feet wide and 3 feet deep where Hal crossed, with the professor right behind him. Although King lost a gaiter in the creek, he caught Hal under a weeping willow tree, but it wasn’t a willow switch Hal was tanned with, and he cried copiously under the weeping willow as the hickory switch did its work.

Professor King’s wife died while he was teaching at Cave Spring. He then took a job in Summerville for a couple of years before coming to Rome and opening a school. He spent time with his brother, John King, who was Superintendent of Floyd County Schools at the time.

Several years had elapsed and Professor King rented a room in the Masonic Hall annex, which had room for about 20 boys. It was hailed as a preparatory school and sent many a young man on to college.

Some of his students were the three Rounsaville brothers, Barry and Louis Wright, Wilson Hardy, Lindley McClure, Hugh Parks, Fred Hanson, Hamilton Yancey Jr., Eddie Peters, Andrew Mitchell, Harry Morris, Victor Smith, Waldo Davis and Oscar Todd.

We have no report that his discipline killed any of them, but there was an incident with Rob Rounsaville. Professor King was about to rap his knuckles when George Rounsaville threw an ink bottle, striking Professor King in the head. The professor then ran down the steps to the street and summoned police.

Officers Joe Sharp and Bill Jones found the three Rounsaville brothers hiding under hay bales in their father’s warehouse. Some kind of justice was meted out, I couldn’t find a record, but George left town to join the circus and Rome quieted down.

If you folks don’t mind, I’d like to finish this one next week and lead into the Broad Street fire of 1908, which but for the Grace of God and every firefighter in Rome, would probably have destroyed the city. MIKE RAGLAND