One Man, One Room, 125 Children

An Ashland Legacy: Or Remembering Professor Vaughan

By Kathleen Vaughan Prude

   From his obituary dated October 5, 1948, headlined "Educator Dies in Talladega" I learned my eighty-six year old grandfather, David Loomis Vaughan, was born in Chambers County, Alabama. However, for all the years I knew him, with the exception of a few preceding his death, he resided with my grandmother, or Olive Elizabeth Strickland Vaughan, on Church Street in Ashland, Alabama, about one mile from the Clay County courthouse on the town square.

   The Family of Professor Vaughan, or Papa (as I called him), had within it many professionals and was well respected throughout the community. His father, John Allen Vaughan, was a physician. My daughter Karen Johnson, who at one time was married to a plastic surgeon, inherited his medical library consisting of two leather-bound volumes containing the medical knowledge of his day. Papa's half brother (same mother but different father) W.C. Griggs, was Superintendent of the Mobile City School System where there is a school named in his honor. Two of Papa's five children were long  time educators. Claudia, his oldest child who never married, taught the second grade at Northside School in Talladega for thirty-five years. For approximately the same length of time, Jewel Comer (J.C.), the older of his two sons (married to Mildred Bozeman an elementary school teacher of Lineville, AL) taught math at Murphy High School in Mobile. Papa's other two daughters, Grace and Louneal, settled in Talladega. Grace, who remained single, was a saleslady at Goldberg and Lewis, and Louneal (who married Nunis Riddle of Talladega) was a stay-at-home mom with their two children Jean and David. 

   

   Insofar as I know, none of Papa's five grandchildren or thirteen great-grandchildren became teachers. However, his great-great-grandson, Hardy Johnson (my grandson),  whose wife is an elementary school teacher, is a professor of finance and research at Kansas State University in Manhattan, Kansas. My father, Papa's youngest son, William Charles (married to Ottis Brown of Talladega) attempted to follow in the family's teaching tradition but gave up after a brief trial run because, in his words, he was "afraid he might kill a kid". He was employed as Chief Clerk to the Road Master (maybe because of his love for trains) at Tennessee Coal, Iron, and Railroad Co. in Birmingham, Alabama. In addition to my mother and I, his family included two sons; the older William Charles Jr. (who died at the age of three with pneumonia), and Donald Brown. 

 

   As I was growing up in Birmingham before the days of fast cars and interstates one did not zip over to Ashland in an hour. My family managed to make only a few annual week-end trips to visit my grandparents. However, after I became school aged, I made longer summer stays, and it was during those visits I came to know Papa best.

   These times of getting to know my father's family were special ones for me and I looked forward to them. One contributing factor could have been an incident that always occurred on the road to Ashland. My brothers and I, riding on the back seat, anticipated it by grinning and preparing to give each other a big punch. As soon as the dome of the Clay County courthouse came into view my father would begin whistling a joyful tune. His happiness was probably contagious. 

   Physically he would not have stood out in a crowd. As someone once said, he did not take up much space. He was not "tall, dark and handsome" but with his silver gray hair, well groomed mustache (which he sometimes shaved off), and pipe he made a dignified distinguished appearance. Although slightly short in stature, he could not have stood taller in things that really mattered: character, integrity,  and intelligence. He also held a deep and abiding love for God, family, country and friends. I remember him as being unassuming, reserved, serious and soft spoken. Although I'm sure he must've been at times, I never saw Papa mad or upset nor heard him raise his voice. He must have been tender-hearted and caring. Always as we said goodbye at the end of our visits he had tears in his eyes sometimes trickling down his cheeks. He never dressed casually but always wore a dark suite, white shirt and black bow tie. I was especially fascinated by his curly hair. He tried to straighten it but allowed me to comb and brush it into ringlets for as long as I wished while he carried on adult conversations with whoever happened to be present. He especially delighted in discussing world affairs, current events, Clay County happenings (not gossip), Alabama history, and politics (two of his favorite subjects).

   Sometimes I accompanied my grandfather on his daily walks to the Ashland Post Office to pick up his mail and newspaper and converse with his neighbors. On these occasions I carried a big stick to rub along the iron fence enclosing the Baptist church cemetery. I liked the noise it made. Probably to Papa it was an annoying one, but being a patient person, he never once scolded me, suggest I stop or confiscated the stick. I held onto it for a repeat performance on the walk home.

   Although Papa was serious by nature, he possessed a good sense of humor. Once, when I asked him why some Vaughan families spelled their name Vaughn, he told me that back in the family history there were two brothers. One became a notorious "black sheep" who was kicked out of the family and forced to drop the last "A" from the family name. I liked his answer and have reapeated it at times when I have been asked the same question. 

   Professor Vaughan rightly earned the title of "walking teacher". For thirty-eight years, having never owned an automobile, and not wanting to leave his beloved Clay County, he walked many miles or rode horse-back to his one room rural school houses where he taught not just the required "three R's" but all subjects for grades one through twelve. There is in existence a photograph thought to have been made in the early 1900s of Papa and his 125 pupils standing in front of the old Lystra schoolhouse near Ashland. It was reproduced on the front page of the Thursday, October 29, 1987 issue of The Ashland Progress by the courtesy of Guin Robinson. The article was one of a series being feautured asking for identification which I did by a letter to the editor. Four of the students are Papa's own children and whether in the photo or not I understand the he once taught Hugo Black who became a Supreme Court Justice of the United States. Imagine one room, 125 students of all ages, all subjects, no assistants, just Papa for almost forty years!

Lystra Schoolhouse with Professor Vaughan pictured with students at left

   Not only were Papa's teaching efforts wide spread, influential and effective, they were also appreciated. On one occasion, my father was in Hot Springs, Arkansas undergoing treatments for severe back pain.  His attending physician, Homer K Wright was an Ashland native. When my father was dismissed he went by Dr. Wrights' office to pay his bill. He was handed a statement on which was written in doctor scrawl across the back "Paid years ago by your pappy when he rode horse-back in the rain to Bluff Springs to teach something into my stupid brain". 

   As his obituary stated, Papa died in Talladega where, because of old age and illness, he had been under the care of his family. As the hearse and family cars moved slowly along the highway between Talladega and Ashland for his funeral service at the Ashland Baptist Church (followed by burial in the church cemetery), other vehicles pulled over to the roadside and stopped. Pedestrians did too. Those wearing hats or caps removed them and held them over their hearts. I realize they were showing their respect for the dead but I like to think it was for Professor Vaughan personally, one of Clay County's early leading educators.