Heart O' Texas News
30 April 1931
Mr. Wicker, one hundred and six years old, lives with his son, C. W., Jr.,
near Rochelle, Texas. He has lived on this same place for forty-eight
years, watching his own children grow to manhood, his grandchildren grow
old and now he holds his small great granddaughter on his knee and tells
her of the Battle of Pikes Peak, talks of Indian legends, remembers old
cattle trails in McCulloch long before Brady was a town. His eyes
sparkle with humor, especially when speaking of the Democrats. Mr.
Wicker wants Will Rogers and all of the Party to know that he has most
emphatically withdrawn from them, having been a Democrat for at least one
hundred years he should know just what to do about the party.
Clayborn (C. W.) Wicker was born in the hills of Arkansas one hundred and six years ago. His father was a slender, dark-skinned Cherokee, his mother a fair haired, blue-eyed Holland miss. In 1871 (May 7th) Mr. Wicker was married to Mary Elizabeth Dyer, a native of Tennessee, who is still living. Eleven children were born to them, nine of whom are living. He came to Texas in 1884, served four years thru the South in the Confederate army, It was a good fight but he doesn't think he will be able to take part in the next war. However, with all these "new fangled ideas," one never knows what the future may hold. When he decided to enlist as a Southern soldier he remembers very distinctly that the women in his family were very much concerned about his leaving them alone at home to the mercy of the Indians. Mr. Wicker was wounded in the Battle of Lexington. The colonel had ordered him to do some scouting from a lookout near the encampment, the soldiers being stationed in the valley. He managed to reach the lookout, secured the information he wanted by his brigade and had turned to leave when on walking toward his horse he was struck by a shell on the shoulder. With some effort he mounted and three of the enemy's spies gave chase down the mountain side. To him the most tragic feature of the Civil War was the fact that women often accompanied by little children, would gather up the bodies of their loved ones. Often arms and limbs were entirely gone. These things of course were heart-rending.
Rose Davidson, Heart O' Texas News
30 April 1931