William Thomas James was the son of (Deacon) Benjamin Ditcher James, Jr., the father of William Duncan James and grandfather of Edward Warren James (Daddy Red). He was born in Liberty County, Georgia and was one of the ten natural children of Ben and Sarah James. You will recall that Ben and Sarah adopted sixteen other children in addition to their own ten during their lifetime. In 1831 when William Thomas was four, the Ben James family moved to Ware (now Pierce) County, Georgia. Here Tom grew to manhood and married Sarah Bennett on 3 December 1846.
In 1847 at the age of20, Tom acquired lands in the western part of Ware County. He was living there when, in 1859, the Atlantic & Gulf Coast Railroad (Later called the Atlantic Coastline Railroad and now called the Coastline) was making its way from north Georgia through Thomasville, GA to Jacksonville, FL. His land was in the direct path of the proposed railroad right of way, so the railroad company met with him to discuss terms and conditions to run its tracks. Tom agreed to “give” them the land if they would build a depot and make it a regular stop with mail delivery. That way he wouldn’t have to go all the way to Waycross, GA to get his mail. The company agreed and “Manor, GA” was born and became a regular stop on the run. Ed. Note: According to a recent article in the Fernandina Beach Newspaper, the News-Leader, a family by the name of Remshart sold several hundred acres to the Plant Railroad System (Atlantic Coastline Railroad). Every afternoon the family would go to the “Crossing of the Ways” to watch the progress. Thus, Waycross got its name.
The Tom James Plantation was located some two miles from Manor near the Providence Primitive Baptist Church of which he and his wife Sarah were members and later were buried there. He was a Justice of the Ware County Inferior Court (1850-1853), Justice of the Peace of the 1082nd District (1855-1857 & 1867-1868), Tax Collector of Ware County (1868-1873) and ex-officio Justice of the Peace of the same district (1872-1873 & 1878-1885). He was a member of the first Board of Education of Ware County in 1872 and served eight years on that board.
In addition to their own fourteen children, Tom, like his father before him, and Sarah, also took in orphaned children, including some of the Joseph Crews children. When the children married, they each received a large piece of land on which to build their future.
Late one afternoon, Tom saddled his horse and went out to drive his cows up to the barn, but did not return at the expected time. His horse came back later without him. Sarah sent people out to look for him and late that night they found him dead, not far from home, leaning against a fat-lighter pine tree. He had died of a massive heart attack. His family and friends cut down this tree and made a monument in his honor and placed it at the spot where he had died. It remains there to this day, 97 years later, preserved by the dense concentration of pine sap which characterizes the “fat-lightered pine tree”.
Tom was buried in the field near the house where he and Sarah had reared all their children. Sarah is at his side.
Our cousin, Holton Rouse, who is the son of Dad’s sister Aunt Fannie, wrote the following poignantly moving poem about Tom James. I have made the trek described in the poem and can vouch that the monument still exists.
The Legend Of The Tom James Monument
Holton Eugene Rouse
May 23, 1984
Down through the forest
On an overgrown trail
The hikers came stumbling
Exhausted and pale
Pursuing a legend
Heard as a child
Seeking a landmark
Deep in the wild
Pushing back branches
Watching for snakes
Plunging through bushes
Boggin’ old firebreaks
Not much further now,
The guide fi-n’ly calls out
I see it! I see it!
In unison they shout
Looks just like we heard it
In tales of our youth
The Tom James Monument
Revealed now in truth
Now rising before us
The shape of a spire
Heavenward reaching
Higher and higher
Standing nine foot two
Hand hewn of heart pine
Square to the ground
Straight as a line
Please tell us again
What meaneth this spire
Though blackened by smoke
Stood many a fire
And ravaged of time
Wind, lightning and storm
A century resisting
Any change to its form
The story of Great Grandpa
The venerable Tom James
Fell ill in the forest
As homeward he came
His riderless horse
In a homebound flight
And a curious gate
Raced madly in sight
The horse hung his head
Just over the fence
Grandma Sarah a’runnin
All worried and tense
The saddle was empty
His bag on the horn
False teeth in the bag
Was a message to morn
Family and friends
Searched all through the night
Found his lifeless body
At break of daylight
And there placed a monument
To honor his name
Stand close and you’ll feel
The spirit of Tom James
Flushed with excitement
Retracing the trail
The hikers returning
Their story to tell
Redbugs and mosquitos
And quivering mud
Thistles and brambles
Some even drew blood
Breathless and aching
And red in the face
And happily telling
All over the place
I’ve been to the forest
Where sings a great choir
The legend of the monument
Lives on in the spire