DEATH OF A COWHUNTER

Death of a Cowhunter

By Ken Murphy

“They’re going to send me to Chattahoochee”, lamented my aunt occasionally when I was growing up. I knew what she meant but I wasn’t sure why she put it in that context. She could have said “They’re driving me crazy or I’m going nuts” without referencing some remote place in the Florida panhandle.

Originally known as the U.S. Arsenal at Mount Vernon, Florida, the facility became the Asylum for the Insane at River Junction when the state took it over for a hospital in the early 1800’s. It is known today as the Florida State Hospital and the community is called Chattahoochee.

If you lived in the late 1800’s or early 1900’s and you had the misfortune to have a behavior disorder or chemical imbalance, you could find yourself a ward of the state. A severe Potassium deficiency for example, would reduce your demeanor to babbling incoherency and the soiling of your under garments. And, when your family finally concluded you were too much of a burden, you could find yourself or your representative in front of a county judge who might declare you a lunatic. If he did so, a guardian, usually a family member, would be appointed and a complete inventory of your assets ordered by the court. Finally, the local sheriff would be ordered to transport your lollygaggin’ butt to Florida State Hospital in the panhandle.

Spicy Underhill Whidden was my great grandmother. She was born 1832 in Ware County, Georgia and came into Florida with her parents and siblings in the early 1840’s, settling on the south prong of the Alafia River in the Old Chicora section of modern day Polk County.

On September 10, 1862, Spicy became a widow for the second time when my great grandfather, with General Lee in Virginia, made the ultimate sacrifice for the Southern cause. After selling her home in 1867, she moved with her two youngest sons and cattle to the old Midland Settlement between Lake Buffum and Crooked Lake near Frostproof. Around 1880 she moved to Ute Hammock on Kissimmee Island where she and her sons raised cattle. Spicy is described in the book Kissimmee Island by Doris Lewis as “….good a cowhand as any man….”

When the cattle companies began buying up the range land in the Kissimmee River Valley around 1903, she returned to the Midland Settlement. Now 70 years of age, she was cared for by her son from her first marriage, Fort Meade cattleman James Franklin V. Jones. Then, in late 1905, Spicy moved to Osceola County and lived across from her son Lewis on Cherry Street in North Kissimmee. The wooden frame home at the corner of Cherry St. and Royal still stands. Then, she disappeared.

Lewis Whidden kept a diary during his cowhunting days. He purchased the diary while attending the street fair in Tampa in 1902. The street fair was the forerunner of the Florida State Fair. The Florida Peninsular Newspaper, a Tampa publication, described the fair as “…many exhibits including an Eskimo village and collection of poisonous snakes….”

An entry in the diary on page seven reads as follows:
“April 04, 1906, from Kissimmee to Jacksonville- tickets7.50 dolars- for stack 1 dolar- board $3 dolars- from Jacksonville to River Junction- ticks 13.32 dolars.
April 06, 1906, tidkets back to Jk $6.25- for brackfirst 50 cents-tickets from Jk to Kiss $4.80- diner 25 cents.”

Remembering my aunt’s lament and on a hunch, I sent a letter of inquiry to Florida State Hospital, P.O. Box 1000, Chattahoochee, Fl. 32324 and enclosed a self- addressed stamped envelope. The state’s response was prompt and simply stated, “ In researching our old admission ledgers, we found your great grandmother’s admission date to be April 5, 1906. She was 70 years of age when she was admitted from Osceola County. After her passing (cause of death listed as ill health and senility), her body was shipped to Kissimmee. Ms. Whidden was listed as a widow and her next of kin was L.M. Whidden.”

A check of Osceola Guardianship records confirmed that in early April 1906, Spicy’s case was heard before county judge W.R. Johnston, who declared her a lunatic and appointed her son Lewis as guardian. Her inventory listed 5,000 head of cattle branded “71”, 2 horses, buggy and harness, $640 in the bank and sundry items totaling $40. A further check confirmed she was buried in the family plot at Pleasant Grove cemetery, east of the Peace River in Fort Meade.

More than likely, Spicy never got off the train when it reached Kissimmee and family probably joined her on the train for her final ride home. She had no grave marker when I finally found her a few years ago, but with the assistance of the Sons of Confederate Veterans, we installed a customized Confederate marker in 1997.

Being a care giver is stressful but can you imagine sending your mother or loved one to a distant mental hospital knowing you may never see them again?

Didn’t know there were women cowhunters, did you?