Charles Hentz was Jackson County's Best Known Antebellum Doctor

Dr. Hentz was the son of famed 19th century
novelist Caroline Lee Hentz, the probable
creator of the Bellamy Bridge ghost legend.

By Dale Cox

The best known of Jackson County’s antebellum “plantation doctors” was Dr. Charles Hentz. A son of the famed 19th century novelist Caroline Lee Hentz, he came to the county in 1848 hoping to make a living by providing medical services to the area’s growing planting community.

Practicing first at Port Jackson on the Chattahoochee River and later in Marianna, Hentz tended to families and slaves on plantations of all sizes and his diary and autobiography provide a fascinating glimpse of life on these farms. His knowledge of medicine was rudimentary at best. A good example was his treatment of Betsy Owens, a young woman of 20 who lived at Owens Hill near today’s Parramore community:

Sunday, January 14. Most beautiful morning. I rode to Mrs Owens; found her daughter Betsy, a stout good looking maid of about 20, very sick; prescribed, came home to late dinner….


Monday, January 15. Rode to Mrs. Owens again. Met the old lady, ere getting there, looking for her son, going to Billy Hair’s after him, talked about her daughter & returned; dissected my hawk all afternoon….

The problem with Hentz’s treatment of Betsy Owens was that he prescribed for her a high dose of calomel. Then used as a laxative, calomel is better known today as Mercury Chloride. Highly toxic, when administered in high doses it can lead to salivating (excessive drooling), hair and tooth loss and even death. Its use as a medicine was discontinued by around 1860, although in England it continued to be used as an ingredient in dental powder, leading to widespread mercury poisoning in that country.

Hentz overdosed Betsy Owens with calomel and within two days received an urgent message that she was salivating. Noting in his diary that he was “sorry to hear it,” Hentz mounted his horse and made the long ride from Port Jackson to Owens Hill, where he “found her quite perplexingly ill.” He reduced the dose, bemoaning the fact that he would not be paid for his services. Finally, four days after he initially dosed Betsy with enough calomel to cause mercury poisoning, she began to show signs of improvement:

Thursday, January 18. I went to widow Owens’ again this morning, am getting quite tired of the road, for the very good reason that my labor will meet with no pecuniary remuneration. I had the satisfaction to find Miss Betsy improving. The day has been charming, bright and beautiful….

Betsy would continue to experience problems for several more days, but Hentz was finally able to end his “treatment” of her. As bad as things went for Betsy Owens, they went even worse for some of Hentz’s other patients. Robert Crawford, for example, died in agony after taking medicine prescribed by Hentz with assistance from a doctor called in from Bainbridge, Georgia:

…He arose violently from bed, with several terrified cries, & rushed out, notwithstanding all efforts of bystanders to the contrary. He struggled violently, & gradually sunk to the floor in convulsions, in which he died, rolling his eyes fearfully; gritting his teeth; gasping & convulsed; he died in about 10 minutes….

Not all of Hentz’s visits went so poorly. He spent much of his time sewing up injuries, setting broken bones and taking care of other everyday medical needs for the planters of Jackson County. His diary indicates that he treated slaves with as much care as he did their white owners and that he was often called to their bedsides by the planters themselves.

One such visit, to the Wood plantation between Marianna and Port Jackson, turned into quite an escapade:

…Went to Mrs. Wood’s after dinner, saw some ailing negroes, sat in the parlor for the afternoon…Miss Kate King sang some, I had carried my flute & played a little. We all tryed the Chloroform, as Miss K. wished to see its effects, both ladies looked happy & embraced each other, & I felt like a thunderstorm, made great stamping & noise; ate some more fine watermelon; a good peach & a good fig….

In addition to his accounts of medical visits to plantations far and wide, Hentz’s diary provides fascinating insights to daily life and social customs in Jackson County during the plantation era. He describes boisterous election day gatherings, quiet Christmas Days spent reading, church services attended by whites and blacks alike, hunting expeditions along the Chipola and Chattahoochee Rivers and even fishing in Blue Spring.

Note: This article is excerpted from my 2010 book, The Early History of Jackson County, Florida: The Civil War Years. It is available locally at Chipola River Book & Tea in Downtown Marianna (across the street from the Battle of Marianna Monument) or you can order online at the upper right of this page.

The Rough and Tumble Election of 1849

As Jackson County voters go to the polls for this year's General Election, it should be a peaceful experience. In our modern times election day is still exciting, but doesn't quite involve the bodily risk that it did in earlier times! Consider the election of 1849 for example.

The following is excerpted from my new book, The History of Jackson County, Florida: Volume One...

One of the more fascinating documents to survive from the early days of Jackson County is an autobiography written by Dr. Charles Hentz. The doctor maintained a medical practice in Port Jackson on the Chattahoochee River in the year 1849. His writings, based on his memories and a shorter diary he kept during his time in the area, reveal much about the rough and tumble nature of life in the rural areas of Jackson County during the late 1840s.

In one fascinating passage, he described the election of 1849 as a day of drinking, rowdiness, drug use and murder:

…It was an eventful day, in more ways than one. In the forenoon, some of the reckless, drinking men came to me to ask me to give them some chloroform; they having heard of its wonderful effects in the way of sudden exhilaration; I did my best to get rid of them; told them they had too much aboard already &c., &c., but they insisted so perseveringly, and declared that I should be held blameless, I finally announced loudly from my window what was going to happen, and warned everybody to look out; I got several of them – the two Keels, a man named Bowers, &c., &c. – to roll their handkerchiefs up, & I poured in a good dose of chloroform into each, and told them to walk up and down under the cotton shed, & smell deep and hard. It was not long before I regretted my folly.

It is difficult to imagine such a scene today. Not only was Hentz a trained physician, but he was the clerk and inspector for the Port Jackson precinct in the election that was underway. In addition to administering chloroform to the crowd of rowdy voters, he was also accepting ballots through the window of his office.

His description of what happened next is nothing short of bizarre:

…A wild scene of confusion took place; yelling & screaming; & flying fists created for a while a pandemonium; one of them came bounding in the window, seeking shelter from one of the Keels, who looked like a raging demon.

Old Tommy Hair (sic.) was leaning against a cotton bale, in a state of blissful repletion with his favorite beverage, not noticing the wild chloroform excitement, when he received a clip on the side of the head that sent him off in a summerset to one side….

Once he recovered from the attack and discovered the cause of the frenzy, Hare grabbed a stick and rampaged up and down outside Hentz’s office, cursing him for giving the men “stuff that made them crazy.” Apparently it was a lesson well learned, as Hentz noted that he was “careful never to give any chloroform again to such a set of people as we had about us there.”

It might have been expected, however, that such a day would not end without further violence. It came later in the afternoon when a man named Jordan left the voting precinct accompanied by a second man named Lott Owens. Jordan had been accused of paying improper attention to the wife of one of his neighbors, B.F. Wood. Jordan and Owens had not been gone from Port Jackson for more than about thirty minutes when Owens suddenly reappeared:

…Owens made his appearance, on foot, out of breath from running and excitement; and called out to the crowd about the store, “Boys, Wood has killed Jordan, get on your horses all, & come up the road.” There was immediately wild excitement; everybody mounted, I had my horse saddled, & joined the crowd.

The party found Jordan lying face down on a dirt road. Upon examination it was found that he had been killed by a shotgun blast to the chest. Owens, who had witnessed the killing, described how he and Jordan were riding in a wagon along the road when they saw Wood approaching them on foot with a whip in one hand and a shotgun over his shoulder. Wood blocked the road, dropped to one knee, aimed his gun and showed “Stop Sir.” At that, Owens said he took shelter behind a tree, but Jordan tried to rush their assailant. Wood fired and Jordan was killed.

If you are interested in purchasing a copy of The History of Jackson County, Florida: Volume One, please visit www.exploresouthernhistory.com/dalecox for information on how to order the book directly from the printer.

Historic Butler Road

This is a view of historic Butler Road as it leads west from Lake Seminole. This road is one of the oldest publicly constructed roads in Jackson County and (as you can see here) it hasn't changed much in the last 175 years or so.

The road was originally built in the 1830s to connect the Chattahoochee River settlement of Brownsville with the new county seat of Marianna. The name "Brownsville" only remained in use for a few year's before it was changed to Brown's Ferry.

Located on the river adjacent to the reservation established by the Treaty of Moultrie Creek for the Native American chief Econchatimico ("Red Ground King") and his followers, the ferry was one of the primary landing sites where passengers and commerce coming and going to Marianna caught the paddlewheel riverboats that steamed up and down the Chattahoochee and Apalachicola Rivers. A flatboat ferry also crossed the river to the Georgia bank at the site.

The Butler Road (then called the Brown's Ferry Road) was constructed to replace the originally woods trail that led from the landing to Marianna. It is clearly shown on survey plats dating from the late 1830s and early 1840s. Heading west from the landing, it passed Cowpen Pond before merging with the Blue Springs Road just west of today's Dellwood Community.

The name "Butler" came into use because Butler Landing was the final incarnation of the old Brownsville Settlement. Over time the landing site migrated slightly south and went through a series of names - Brownsville, Brown's Ferry, Port Jackson and finally Butler Landing.

Jackson County's Indian Reservations

This field on the shore of Lake Seminole north of Sneads has been farmed since it was first cleared by Native Americans more than 180 years ago. In around 1818 or 1819, a party of Creeks led by Econchatimico ("Red Ground King") moved to a new village site here on the Chattahoochee River after their town at present-day Neal's Landing was destroyed during the First Seminole War.

By 1823, they had managed to clear fields, build homes and settle in at the new location, about 10 miles north of Sneads. In the Treaty of Moultrie Creek, signed that year, the U.S. Government reserved a four square mile piece of land surrounding the new village for Econchatimico and his people. A second, smaller reservation was also established on the Apalachicola River near the present Jackson County Port Authority site for a second chief, Mulatto King, and his followers.

The rest of the land in Jackson County, however, was opened to settlement and the last few hundred Native Americans living there were confined to the reservations.

Econchatimico remained on his land until 1838 when, based on prior agreement, he and his followers were removed by U.S. Army troops commanded by future President, Colonel Zachary Taylor.

The reservation was immediately occupied by white settlers, who began farming the newly abandoned fields and the communities of Brown's Ferry, Port Jackson and Butler Landing eventually grew here. Most of the old reservation was flooded when Lake Seminole was created during the 1950s, but a few small portions remain above water level and can still be seen in the vicinity of the Apalachee Wildlife Management Area along River Road north of Sneads.