I wrote last week that the name McIntosh came into existence in Georgia in the mid 1700s when three brothers arrived from Scotland. They settled just south of Savannah.
One of them, William, married a Creek Indian princess, of the Wind Clan, and they had a son, William Jr.
However, a few years later his father returned to Savannah and the son was never known as junior again. From now on, the younger is whom we will be referring to.
He grew up at first well schooled in both worlds.
He could see both sides of an issue and this led to his being misunderstood by fellow Creek Indian leaders and he was assassinated in 1821.
Let’s talk today about his great grandson, Waldo Emerson McIntosh, and yes, that was his name.
His father gave him the nickname as a child, Dode, and it stuck.
He was born in Tennessee in 1893 and my children and I were privileged to not only know him, but he often stayed overnight with us when in the area.
He always enjoyed coming to the Scottish Highland games at Stone Mountain each fall.
He was named the Principal Chief of the Creek Indian Nation in 1962.
I believe his first visit to this area was in the early 1970s when he was invited by folks in Coweta County.
My memory has dimmed as to just how we met at that time, but it lasted until he died in 1991 at the age of 98.
A group of men in Peachtree City decided to have a play written about the great grandfather and the story of the Creeks in this area, a well known playwright was secured, the play written, professional actors, as well as local citizens were hired, and in 1976 it was all put together.
Over a dozen of McIntosh Creek descendants arrived and at one time, they were all in my living room, deep in discussion about oil rights they thought they should have in the Gulf of Mexico.
Now those who know me, are aware I find it difficult to keep my mouth shut, but trust me, this was one time I did just that.
I was just honored to be siting among them.
I was the office manager and payroll person of the play and while the play was a success and was expected to be performed summer after summer, the management way over spent on souvenirs for sale and other things, and I ran out of money after several months into the play to pay anyone or anything.
Someone in Peachtree City, who shall remain nameless, brought me a check for $30,000 just to pay off the professional actors and tidy things up.
Sadly, the play was never put on again.
I moved to Fayetteville in 1966. I worked at C&S bank downtown with a fellow teller who lived in Tyrone. My son was six years old and when I asked this fella which high school in Fayetteville he would be going to.
I’m sure he wanted to bust out laughing – there was only one high school in the whole county.
More next week on the second high school and how it got named.