The Tobacco Kings

Shep’s Story

The Tobacco Kings
(Myron Shep Charles Hightower, of Virginia, 1650)

Part one of three to Shep’s Story


The first known Hightower, Myron Shep Charles Hightower, who came over to America in A.D. 1650, who built a brand-new plantation in Virginia, as settlements took over Indian lands, brought with him twenty-Englishmen, and bought forty-slaves along the way, to do one thing, and one thing only—some miles outside of Jamestown, and it was to create a private enterprise, backed up by rich and private financial backers, who were bankers in England—capitalists, and grow as much tobacco as possible, to sell back to the English people. After arriving, and unloading, and settling in, they started what history would not record, and hired the immigrants that came to America prior to before 1640, from what was known as England’s marshes. Perhaps a hundred of them, along with the slaves and the men Myron brought with him, within three years he had an enterprise that was paying off.
Although, it was not uncommon for ten or so workers to die each year for so called medical reasons, one year, the third year burials outstripped the hiring. The main cause of death was malaria, along with whatever disease the colonists brought with them from Europe. Malaria didn’t kill their victims right away, just weakened them for months on end, and in many cases the body without its proper nutrition could not fight it off, and coupled with a weak immune system, and lack of nutrition, and no medications, the environmental elements produced a full-blown death; after several relapses.

So here we had an ongoing dilemma, sick people trying to get better, with more than enough mosquitoes, all waiting to hit the bull’s –eye— the worker. It was said, before the Marsh-Landers came to Virginia, from England (so the Indians claimed) there were no parasites, or malaria to be found—who’s to say, it didn’t matter in the long run, the disease migrated to the Carolinas where it crippled and drained large portions of Cornwallis Army.
To Myron Hightower (born 1620), it didn’t become much of an issue, he had his business, and people were replaceable. And he built a large home in upper New York, where he planned on retiring. And in time as years passed, late in life he married, and had a son he named: Eugene Shep Hightower (born: 1670, died 1767, whom would die at the ripe old age of 97-years old) Myron had this child at the age of 70-years old who took over the tobacco business in latter years, all seemingly immune to the malarial diseases and relapses.
In 1734, Eugene’s wife gave birth to Charles Shep Hightower, whom was simply called Shep. At which time Eugene retired in upper New York, in his brick built home, and invested into a saw mill, and hence, that ended the tobacco kings.

No: 509 ((10-29-2009) (written in the afternoon))


Shep’s Valley
(Shep Charles Shep Hightower, 1775-1786)

Part Two


In the old days, in upper New York, Charles Ship Hightower, lived in what was back then a rich and lumbering town. His family had come over to America in 1650—Shep was born 1734 (would die in Alabama in 1800). He, married Emily Hightower, grandmother to Emma, born 1755, died 1790, Charles’ mother, and Emma being Charles’ daughter. For a number of years there were plenty of logs to be cut, at which time Shep’s father owned the mill that cut the logs, and stacked them in the yard, sold them as needed, piles of lumber were carried away and many houses were built from his lumber. His son, Charles Terrence Hightower, would be born after all the Indian, and British and American conflicts were over, born 1789, three years after he had moved to Alabama, from upper New York.
He worked in the mill those prior years, with the great saws and wheels, belts and iron, operating the mill, and loading lumber. And he fought the Indians in-between. He had built himself a small cabin, which got burnt down by the Indians, one-story. Then years later there was nothing of the mill left, again the Indians did their dirty work, broken white limestone for its foundations—all crumbled to nothingness. Oh he had his neighbors come and clear the debris, his land, trying to rebuild the cabin and mill, and he had hired help, but it all seemed so fruitless, and then Shep and his wife became the hired help. His father being killed by the Indians, and his house burnt down likewise, and his mother had died prior to most of this ongoing conflict of pneumonia.

“There it is,” he’d tell his wife in later years, the mill, the cabin; he couldn’t even remember how it was what it was suppose to be. “I just can’t remember,” Shep would say in those far-off years. Perhaps didn’t want to remember, they were trying years to say the least.
“No,” Emily would say if her kids asked too many questions about those years “ask your father!” She was intent on supporting her husband no matter what, all the time they were sidekicks, so it would seem. She loved those younger days in New York State though. But Shep left the Valley, and they both moved down to Ozark, another member went on a little further, to New Orleans. Shep, he simply said one day to Emily, “It isn’t fun anymore here,” and he laughed, and Emily said, “I don’t know what to say,” and after that statement, she didn’t say a word, they just packed up and left.


No: 507 ((10-29-2009) (written in the wee hours of the night))



Shep’s Journey
((Part Three to hip’s Story’) (1787-‘89))





In 1787, Shep and his wife Emily Hightower was traveling by covered wagon, from upper New York, down to Alabama, carrying just the basic needs from what was left out of Shep’s father’s belongings, and his burnt out homestead, which the Indians shattered. He and his wife suffered much under the Indians of the region, and requested no aid from anyone. He was very hungry for starting over and knew his youth was on his side, he had time to do what he needed to do, and he was going to build the most magnificent plantation in all of Alabama; although he had only a little money.
He was delighted with upper New York. It was a beautiful country, he said, just a bit too hostile for his blood, as was the previous war years. On his way through the costal states, territories, such as: Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, and Georgia, they had gone through many towns, walked much, and seen much. Georgia he did not like. Yet they had a good time together, up to a dividing point. It was early October, and the country was pleasant, but the Indians and the British had done some bad things. He talked about it a little in Atlanta, in spite of the war; he believed altogether in the Revolution, clearing the country of savages and the British completely. He asked in Georgia, “How is the movement going in Washington?” to a group of war veterans (which would turn out to be a mistake).
“Confusing,” a solider of the Revolution commented, “But it will get better, this is just the beginning, we won the war, but there will be more battles with the Indians. Why not settle here?” he commented.
“Why should I?” questioned Shep.
“You have everything here. It is the spot down south here, everyone is sure of. It will be the starting point of everything down south, not Alabama.”
He said quickly his good-byes to the few and the group of revolutionists he met, to head on down to Ozark, Alabama, his father knew the banker there, a Mr. Ritt, and he would provide a loan for land, payable in ten-years. He couldn’t do any better than that. But before he got to go on his way, the revolutionists knowing Shep didn’t do any fighting in the war spoke to him about it.
“Why not?” asked one of the several revolutionists, “why didn’t you fight, it was a requirement!”
“No,” he said, very shyly, “I was never asked…” he did not like Georgia, and he didn’t want to offend anyone, lest a Revolutionist who fought in the war for his independence, so he said little more. He was very eager to get on his way, as was his wife likewise; he was sure he’d love Alabama now that it was autumn.
When Mr. Ritt, sent out inquires, seeking what might have happened to Mr. Shep Hightower, the last he heard was he was serving time in jail in Atlanta for draft dodging, for it was mandatory during those war years, to be in uniform, or hung, and there was no requirement that he had to be asked, it was his job to enlist voluntarily. His sentence was limited to six-months in jail.

No: 508 ((10-29-2009) (written in the Morning))