The George Washington McCombs Family
The following information on
the McCombs family is told by Clarence E. Crocker of
Glendale.
Though I know little to nothing
about their roots, permit me to tell you about two of
my grandparents who were remarkable people in my mind.
George Washington McCombs, (1852-1943) was my maternal
grandfather. He was the
son of William McCombs (1810-1892) and Arena
McCombs (1815-1892) Margaret Ann Zimmerman McCombs
(1855-1937) was my maternal grandmother. She was the
daughter of David Rickenbacker Zimmerman who died in
the Civil war and Georgia Ann Muscogee Zimmerman
(1829-1903)
Though I'm sure we had visited them many times before,
I was about six when we made the first visit
that I recall. They were already retired and near
eighty. As you can see from the picture, Grandpa and
Grandma as we called them, were a unique couple. He
was about 6 feet 4 and she was about five feet tall.
They were the parents of nine children, five boys and
four girls. The boys, LaFoy, George Bryson,
William, Vernon and Bunyan, all married, moving away
to follow the textile industry, one becoming a mill
superintendent, one becoming a mill overseer,
one becoming the supervisor of an installation team
for a textile machine manufacturer and two being
textile mill section men. The four girls, Genie,
married the master mechanic of D.E. Converse Company
mills, Ollie, married a Preacher, Callie
married the manager of Pierce Motor Co. auto body
repair shop and Ella married Albert Crocker, my
mother and father.
Grandpa had been a overseer in the D.E. Converse
Company (Glendale) mills but had retired before I was
born. In retirement, they had moved from their small
farm on the Bethesda road into a small house which had
a vacant store building attached, some 1,000 feet from
the river shoals behind the mill. Mill property joined
theirs on the left and back side .
Being an avid fisherman, he was constantly going to
the pond or shoals with his cane pole to fish. One day
when I was about 9, he agreed to let me go with him.
Giving me a pole, he showed me where to sit down by a
fish hole saying, "Now boy be quite and still or
you’ll scare all the fish away". I was O.K. for a
while, but after sitting there not even getting a bite
for about 30 minutes while he was catching fish, I
dared to get up and go over to where he was. Crossing
over the pot hole on some small brushes, I slipped and
fell into the water up to my shoulders. Hearing the
commotion, Grandpa looked around, seeing what had
happened, he said, "Boy, you’ve scared the fish away
for a mile, we might as well go home". That was the
first and last time he ever carried me fishing.
They had a cow which they kept for fresh milk and a
few hens for fresh eggs. Grandpa was mostly a
vegetarian. Except for fresh fish which they had once
or twice a week, he ate very little meat. Sit him down
before a table with corn bread, buttermilk, beans or
peas, turnips, turnips green, potatoes, corn and okra
and the likes, and he felt like he was at an exquisite
buffet. He never had a false tooth in his mouth,
course he didn’t have any of any kind when he died.
Grandpa had six customs which he religiously
practiced:
He believed in signs and would check
them out before planting a garden, pulling a tooth
or the like. He would go to the porch about sunset
to see what the signs in the sky might be regarding
the weather. When the moon was out, he always
counted the stars within the ring to determine if
rain was in sight.
He retired early at night and arose early in the
morning. He believed in the old saying; “early
to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy
and wise”. He never became wealthy but he was a
strong, healthy and wise old soul.
He took an NR, “Nature’s Remedy laxative tablet
every night before retiring.
He never drank a carbonated beverage; When
grandpa was about 55 years old, he determined that
carbonated beverages were the cause of his
headaches. He stopped drinking anything carbonated
and claimed he hadn’t had a headache since stopping.
He died at 91 years of age.
He read the newspapers first thing every morning
but never owned a pair of glasses until about a year
or so before he died. The news print had gotten so
small, he purchased a pair of magnifying glasses
from the drug store. He would close one eye and read
one column, open the other eye and read the next
column. When asked why he did that, he said, you
only have one brain, so rest one eye while feeding
the brain with the one column you are reading.
He smoked a self made corn cob pipe, smoking
George Washington tobacco all the years I knew him.
He would take a large ear of corn, shell it, cut it
to the right length, bore out the center for the pot
of the pipe. He would cut about a six inch limb from
the fig tree, burn the core out with a hot coat
hanger to make the pipe stem. His sons gave him
pearl stem, Frank D. Medico filter pipes from time
to time. He would take them, thank them and then
give them away after they had left.
After Grandma died, he came to live with us for the
last few years of his life. He was sitting in front of
a double window reading the newspaper when I, a
teenager by that time, shot a cherry bomb in the back
yard. My Dad came to the door calling me to come in to
see what I had done. Getting inside, Dad said, look at
your grandpa. There he was sitting, holding a lap full
of newspapers and glass. The bomb had thrown a rock
through the double window.
About a year before he died, Grandpa got terribly
sick. He had no appetite and was running a fever. He
was almost in a coma and Mama called the doctor.
Almost immediately, he told us that something had put
Grandpa in shock. Finding out that he had stopped
smoking a few weeks before, he decided that he was
wasting too much money on tobacco. The doctor took
some of his smoking tobacco, dipped it in hot water
and squeezed a few drops in his mouth. Leaving the
house, the doctor told Mama to squeeze about 10 or 12
drops in his mouth every two or three hours and he
thought he would be O.K. The next day Grandpa was
sitting up. In a few days he was back to himself. He
lived for about a year after this episode
He had become addicted to nicotine but died happy
smoking his corn cob pipe. He and Grandma are buried
in the upper Glendale Cemetery.
I was proud to call them Grandpa and Grandma, for they
were indeed grand!
(Since doing this article, I have found more
information and photos involving the family. This can
be read at More on the
McComb Family.)
This web site has been started as a
public service to share the story of Glendale.
See more information about Mary and her Glendale
connection at Mary McKinney Teaster.