By Scott Bradshaw

Special to The Citizen

Some readers know I moved to Peachtree City 10 years ago and will be surprised that I have early memories of the area I hold so dear to my heart. There are others who can better tell the story of Peachtree City’s inception, growth, and success during the past five decades.

I want to celebrate the 50th anniversary by helping tell the story of the Shakerag district prior to the charter of Peachtree City in 1959. My thoughts are in the context of family history as passed on to me by the “old people” in my family.

The story begins when my great great grandparents, James Loyd, and Sara Parsons Loyd, migrated from Virginia through the Carolinas into Georgia sometime after the war of 1812. After settling briefly in Jasper County, Ga., they pushed westward into Creek Indian territory around 1820.

Homesteading along Flat Creek

The “old people” said that James and Sara possessed only a horse, a milk cow, an ox and a wagon with a few household goods when they arrived here. They homesteaded along Flat Creek in a densely forested area that became part of Fayette County when it was formed in 1821.

Their original home site was south of where the Kedron Hills subdivision is today. They later built a bigger cabin and tiny barn on what is now Smokerise Point in Peachtree City. They would be shocked if they could see Peachtree City today, nearly two centuries later.

James Loyd was born in 1798 and died here in 1849. Sara was born in 1800 and died shortly after the Civil War. They are buried together near their cabin site in a small private family cemetery on Smokerise Point between Hidden Springs Lane and Clear Springs Lane in Peachtree City. I still tend their graves.

During this era, state and federal officials were attempting to acquire Indian land and move the Creeks out of the territory with limited success. Land ownership in those days was more about possession than title. Finally, a lottery was held in Milledgeville in 1821 to orderly allocate most of the land in this area to white settlers. James Loyd and his brother Thomas had extra draws in the lottery because their father, James Loyd, Sr., fought in the Revolutionary War.

The lottery records and early deeds are confusing and difficult to verify. I have concluded that James Loyd drew a tract in what is now Henry County and either traded it or sold it to acquire the land he lived on in this area.

There are deeds on record showing that he took title to part of his Fayette land in 1822 and a section of contiguous land in 1825. Most of the early deeds of 1822-1830 survived a Fayette County Courthouse fire and are safely maintained in the Fayette County records.

James Loyd’s land was passed to his son, Samuel Loyd (my great-grandfather), who cleared much of it to grow cotton and enough corn to feed the livestock. His plans were interrupted by the Civil War.

He, along with neighbors W.M. Speer, W.A. Leach, C.B. Brogdon, the Eason brothers from Fayetteville, and several others volunteered and became part of Company F of the 2nd Georgia Calvary. Their wilderness hunting skills served them well in combat. They were top marksmen and most came back alive after seeing plenty of action.

First doctor in Shakerag

My great-grandfather (Samuel Loyd) resumed efforts to clear land and grow cotton after the war. He and my great grandmother, Sarah Speer Loyd, lived on the road now called Smokerise Point across from his father’s old cabin, which was converted to a barn. Samuel and Sarah died in the early 1900s and are buried in the Ebenezer Methodist Church cemetery.

After Samuel Loyd’s death, the land was passed to my grandfather, Dr. Robert Calvin Loyd. He attended Emory and became the only doctor, and possibly the first doctor, in the Shakerag district.

My grandfather was known throughout the community as Doctor Bob, and practiced medicine from about 1895 to about 1920. He continued to live on the land where he was born and managed the farming operation in addition to practicing medicine.

My grandfather married Martha (Mattie) Paulk from Ocilla, Ga. She lived to be more than 100 years of age, and I spent many hours talking with her about Fayette County. She was a south Georgia farm girl who never fully adjusted to north Georgia. She “loved my grandfather but hated the north Georgia red clay.” Mattie always wanted to return to Ocilla.

Emergency buggy rides

Respiratory problems made it difficult for my grandfather to take emergency buggy rides at night to attend sick neighbors or deliver babies. My grandmother persuaded him to retire from medicine and move to South Georgia for the milder climate. They, along with their teenage daughters, moved to Ocilla and lived the rest of their lives on my grandmother’s farm in Irwin County. Both are buried in the Paulk Family Cemetery near Ocilla.

Their daughter, Ardath Loyd Bradshaw (my mother), after having lived the first 12 years of her life in Shakerag cherished those childhood memories. She became the fourth generation owner of most of James Loyd’s land upon the death of her father (Robert Calvin Loyd) in 1942.

Because of my mother’s love of her birthplace, she frequently made visits from Ocilla to Fayette County to visit cousins and check on the farm she operated for almost 20 years. Her sister once said, “Ardath is crazy. She had rather go to Fayetteville than the beach.” Visiting Fayette County was indeed her favorite activity and, as a little boy, I almost always accompanied her.

One of my first memories of trips to the place that became Peachtree City is visiting with our neighbors, the Swansons. Mr. Swanson lived with his sister in an attractive, small white house on a dirt road which has been named Loyd Road, Swanson Road and Tinsley Mill Road at one time or another. Today, part of the old road is Sumner Road and the other section is Smokerise Point.

After a short visit with the Swansons, we went to the grist mill operated by Mr. Tinsley. I called him “Old Man Tinsley” but not to his face. He was Mr. Tinsley!

I enjoyed playing cowboys with a boy near my age who lived with Mr. Tinsley. Sixty years in time cloud my memory but I believe his name was Billy Tinsley. I am not sure if he was Mr. Tinsley’s son, grandson or nephew. I never thought to ask.

We usually left Tinsley Mill with a bag of yellow corn meal or flour. The old grist mill and part of the road was taken by the construction of Lake Kedron. I understand the mill was moved to the golf course and subsequently burned down.

Chasing chickens, shooting 22s

Our next stop was at the home of my mother’s cousin, Thomas Loyd and his wife Frances. Their daughter Rebecca was my best friend. We climbed trees, threw rocks, chased chickens, and had great fun until our parents made us sit on the porch for our own good. We once engaged in a target shooting contest with our 22 rifles and I was destroyed when, at age 12, she could shoot like Annie Oakley and I couldn’t hit the trunk of a tree.

My cousin Rebecca is Rebecca Cook, retired president of the old Farmers and Merchants Bank in Senoia. Her little brother, Donald, still lives on Tyrone Road and is the person I would call for help if I had big trouble.

Another fond memory was walking through our woods to the rock shoals on Flat Creek. The shoals were not on our property but my mother had played there as a small child and wanted to see them during our visits. I enjoyed wading in Flat Creek and playing on the slippery rocks. This beautiful spot is just west of the bridge between Kedron Hills and Kedron Estates.

We always stopped at the home place where she lived as a little girl. Located on the original road between Shakerag and Union City, the house stood vacant for several years. As absentee owners, we became victims of trespassing, vandalism and some bizarre incidents.

One enterprising bootlegger took down the side of the old barn and installed the biggest vat and moonshine still I have ever seen. He replaced the side of the barn, used electricity from the power line leading to the old house, and was secretly making large quantities of moonshine.

Bootlegger vs. revenue agent

Fortunately, the Coweta Fayette EMC detected power being used from the disconnected line and sent a worker to determine who was stealing electricity. The still was discovered and EMC contacted the state Revenue Department.

The Revenuers sent a young agent named Randall Johnson to investigate. Agent Johnson arrived while the bootlegger was working and attempted to place him under arrest. The bootlegger resisted and attacked Mr. Johnson. Agent Johnson shot and killed him. The same Randall Johnson later became sheriff of Fayette County and many readers know him personally.

The house stayed vacant for a few more years and burned down when the adjacent Landings Subdivision was being constructed. Fire officials found two freshly emptied gas cans in the yard. The arsonist didn’t even try to cover it up!

An unwilling farmer

Our visits usually took us to Mr. Brown’s store for a refreshment break. The store was located near where the dive center is today on Highway 54. Mrs. Brown always made me feel like a celebrity when she bragged that Dr. Bob, my grandfather, delivered her into this world. Mr. and Mrs. Brown’s grandson lives in the area and today operates T. Brown’s electrical service.

My parents were divorced when I was 7 and my mother, a teacher, attended graduate school during the summers to become certified as a school administrator. Her first job offer was in Carrollton. She took the job and we moved to Carrollton in 1952 when I was 12.

During this time, my mother was having difficulty finding people to do the work required to farm the land. She knew the gig was up and changed her business plan in 1955. Her solution was to buy some farm implements and a Ferguson tractor and put me to work on weekends and summers.

I liked my part-time summer job pumping gas and washing cars at Curly Monroe’s Shell station near Bremen and resisted her idea to no avail. I became an unwilling, unprepared “overnight farmer” at age 16. I proceeded with the advice and direction of my mother’s friend Zell Padgett and a couple of cousins who were as amused as they were helpful.

I worked hard but it was a dry year and the cotton crop was puny. The snap beans and field peas I planted, cultivated, picked and carried to the Farmer’s Market in Forest Park never sold at full price. Everybody wanted to negotiate price and I was happy to take their offer. I remember giving the last hamper of peas away just to get in my 1950 Hudson and head to Carrollton. I was fast losing my love for the land.

At the country store

This failed experiment lasted only one year because the Ferguson tractor was stripped down to the frame and almost every part stolen. The farm implements disappeared that same week. It took the thief several hours to pull off this heist. The sheriff said he thought he knew who stole the parts but couldn’t make a case because the man never stole anything with a serial number.

In addition to the previously mentioned Brown’s Store, there was another country store on Highway 54. It was on the hill across Highway 54 from the Chevron station at the end of Robinson Road.

Mr. Collins was the store owner and his place was the source of the best local gossip and information available. There were usually two or three local farmers relaxing and talking local politics. They sat on low, straight-back chairs or Coca Cola crates, depending on what was available. I ate lunch in the store when I worked on the farm because the nearest restaurant was in Fayetteville.

Two of the most interesting local farmers at the store were Mr. Greer and Mr. Banks. I assume Greer’s Mountain subdivision is the site of Mr. Greer’s farm and Walt Banks Road was named after Mr. Banks. Banks and Greer called me “Big City Boy” because I was from Carrollton. I didn’t understand their humor since Carrollton was a small town in those days. It was good-natured kidding and I enjoyed every minute of it.

I vividly recall when my mother was visited by a representative of the group that was planning to build a new city in rural Fayette County that eventually became Peachtree City. This meeting had been arranged by Floy Farr, who was married to my mother’s cousin Hilda Bruce Farr. The developers made an attractive offer for the land, and her answer was a polite, “No, thank you.”

I was surprised and disappointed that she wouldn’t sell. I urged her to sell, and her response was, “A new city is a silly idea that probably won’t work. If it fails, I will still own my farm. If it succeeds, I will have 400 acres in the middle of a city. How can I lose by not selling?”

My mother did it her way, and I am better off for it! I am likely the only person in Peachtree City living in a home on property that has been in the family for 184 years. Enough said!

[Scott Bradshaw, a resident of Peachtree City, is a real estate broker and residential real estate developer. He may be contacted at rand5474@bellsouth.net.]