Benjamin Johnson’s old rusty plow cut deep. Enthusiastic chunks of hard ground eagerly peeled away from the dry Mississippi earth underneath an angry sun that appeared blistering white hot amid the blue and white mid-day sky. Hinny, the work mule, earnestly toiled the day away before the plow.
Only once this year did she go on a real tear across the open field and when she did she hurt herself pretty bad. She ran across the 36 acre countryside kicking and carrying on so that she ended up in the barb wire fence which caused her to fuss even more. It took nigh half a day to calm her down and get her untangled. As a result, her haunches and left back leg were cut all to pieces. Of course, with tender love from farmer Johnson, and a gentle leg wrap, Hinny was able to make a speedy recovery.
Benjamin Johnson’s farm wasn’t the largest farm one could find in Mississippi, but it might well have been the largest farm in Jones County. It is possible, too, that it was the only actual farm. It wasn’t common for farms in this area to have more than a few chickens, pigs, or a field full of beef heifers and cows. Basically, everyone claimed to live on a farm, even those with no more than a dog or two. The term “farm” just meant a self-sufficient family spread across several acres.
Farmer Johnson, however, had a six-hundred-pound sow, some small piglets, and chickens as well. There was even a small pond with a family of ducks where migrating birds flocked occasionally.
He lived in Mississippi his whole life. He was born in Smith County but moved south to Jones County when he caught a good deal on several acres of property. He loved animals and was really well known at the local “Farm and Seed” just around the corner. Typically, those who grew up ‘round there referred to it as the “Corner Store.”
Benjamin Johnson was as knowledgeable as any veterinarian and had numerous stories about having worked on a large horse farm himself that he often entertained customers with while at the Corner Store. People just loved the old man and they loved to listen to his stories.
Now you might not believe the ol’ man from time to time because he was such a joker, but rest assured the joke was always on you. His favorite story to tell, however, was the one about his very own birth. Yes indeed, it was quite a story for those of us living in modern times. Farmer Johnson was born back in 1919 and it was on a horse farm in Smith County, Mississippi where he did indeed enter into this world.
Seems one day in October, the 2nd actually, of nineteen hundred and nineteen, farmer Johnson’s mother went to the nearest place she could for help in Smith County with delivering the baby to come. Georgie-Thomas was her first full name by birth. She was called such to separate her from her twin sister, Georgie-Paul.
Georgie-Thomas’ and Georgie-Paul’s father, Glenn, had expected to have several sons over the years. However, when Glenn found out that their mother, Georgie Anne Graves, died during the delivery he named both the twins Georgie after her. He tacked on two of the boy names that he and their mother had picked out for the boys which would never come. Therefore, Georgie-Thomas and Georgie-Paul it was.
There was only one large horse farm in Smith County in 1919. In fact, it was close to time for the great annual festival of Smith County and lots of people from all over the state of Mississippi were going to be there. It was called Farmer Mac’s Fall Pumpkin Festival. There would be apple bobbing and hay rides and . . . oh yes, that reminds me.
Farmer Mac Smith spent weeks preparing for the festival. He was also a doctor of equine medicine, which I guess meant he was a horse doctor of sorts. He had all the tools available for helping these large farm animals deliver babies, fix broken bones, and even pain killers. As such, Dr. Smith, as some would call him in their time of need, became the local physician for many fellow people in Smith County.
If you are thinking that Smith County was named after Dr. Mac Smith at some point in time, it was not. Smith County was founded and named after the American Revolutionary hero, Major David Smith, in 1833. It was Dr. Smith’s family, like so many other Smith’s in Smith County, who honored Major David Smith by changing their last name to Smith.
Again, in preparation for the largest festival in the state, Mac Smith, or Dr. Smith if you like, would always meet one request which paid a pretty penny. Dr. Byron Gaits, an oral and maxillofacial surgeon from Alabama, was the proud owner of four of the largest Clydesdales in the South. These draft horses were about six and a half feet tall and weighed over 2100 pounds. These four horses were black as the country night and could pull the heaviest loads.
Dr. Byron Gaits would bring the horses over to Mac Smith’s farm two weeks in advance of the festival. This was to get them acclimated to their environment so they wouldn’t spook so easily during the parade. The Clydesdales would pull a black and red stagecoach through the town which people would pay to ride. Dr. Byron Gaits would ride high on a raised seat in front of the carriage while working the Clydesdales to everyone’s amazement.
Mac Smith was mucking the stalls on October 2nd, 1919 when Georgie-Thomas stopped in at the barn’s double doors calling out for the doctor with blood on her gown between her thighs. She was holding her large swollen stomach with amniotic fluid running down both legs; her water had broken. When the baffled Dr. Smith turned around and gazed toward the double doors of the barn and saw her standing there, he quickly ran over to catch her just as she passed out in his arms. She had walked, unnoticed, the entire eleven mile stretch from her house to the veterinarian’s horse barn while barefoot.
Dr. Smith did what he had become famous for doing over the years in his horse barn and quickly prepared a table for the woman to lay down on and give birth. Dr. Smith became so popular as a physician that his giant horse barn became known as the “Horsepital.”
As Dr. Smith told the Smith County Herald a few days later about the woman: “Georgie-Thomas showed up out of nowhere that day. The fragile woman bled like a mule. She screamed a lot and it echoed loudly in the barn. Surprisingly, the typically skittish Clydesdales were quiet as a mouse and looked on with eager anticipation. In the end, as she nursed the baby, I asked what was she going to call the child and she whispered quietly the name “Benjamin,” having never lifted her gaze from the child. The whole event reminded me of the story of the baby Jesus who was also born in a manger.”
Benjamin, or farmer Johnson as he came to be known, went on to have two children of his own. He loved the story about his mom and the Clydesdales so much that he named his son Clyde Johnson and his daughter Georgie-Dale Johnson.
The End
Dr. Mac Smith, the equine doctor of Smith County working on a horse at his farm. Photo taken in 1919 courtesy of the Smith County Herald. Postproduction of the photo here 1998. Postproduction photo credits belong to the University of Washington, a public research university of Seattle.
Thanks for sharing this Jason ❤️