Barren County Biography
Steve Landrum, My Client
Source: Glasgow (KY) Republican, 26 Dec 1940 and
quoted by Michelle Gorin Burris in Barren’s Black Roots, Volume 2, (c)
August 1992. By permission.
Sandi Gorin,
Gorin Genealogical Publishing
“Old Glasgowians will appreciate the following
article concerning one of Glasgow’s familiar old figures, the late
Steve Landrum, who has passed to his reward. The article was written
by Hon. E. H. Smith, local attorney, editor of the Kentucky Bar
Journal and appeared in the current issue of that publication.
“For twenty years, Stephen Landrum was my client, and
in all that time I never addressed him other
than “Uncle Steve”. He could neither read nor write, and he kept no
books. He could add and subtract and multiply, but not on paper with
pencil. He did it all mentally. He was politeness itself, and he
never came into my office except with his hat in hand, and he never
addressed a white man without preceding the name with “Mister.” He
never had a lawsuit, and often I have known him to surrender his
rights to avoid a lawsuit. He had an ever present fear of
litigation. He was extremely cautious and took every precaution to
make sure that his trades were exactly understood. He trusted few
people and had little faith in banks. This old colored man was worth
a hundred thousand dollars, every cent of which he made. He did not
now his age, but he must have been born of slave parents, if indeed
he was not himself a slave. He was a benefactor of his race and very
charitably inclined, but he would not loan money.
“I do not know that “Uncle Steve” had any rule by
which he governed his life. If he did have, I am sure that he did
not recognize it as such. He was full of eccentricities. Perhaps I
can best let the reader know him as I knew him by reciting some of
the incidents that came up in my practice for him.
“His wealth was almost all invested in real estate
and his income was about five hundred dollars per month. Each year,
after we had an income tax law, I made out his return for him. He
would come to my office without a single written memorandum. I would
procure an income tax blank, and our conversation would run
something like this:
“Uncle Steve, how much did you collect for rent last
year?” Then without the slightest hesitation, he would reply: “Five
thousand eight hundred and ninety-six dollars and twenty-five
cents.” “Did you make any repairs?” “Yes, sir, spent three hundred
and forty-four dollars for repairs.”
“And, so it would go through each questions contained
on the income tax blank, and before I could calculate the net income
and the tax thereon, knew what it was. I have never known another
man, white or black, who could keep his business in his mind like
that.
“He came into my office one morning with a letter he
had received for me to read it to him. I read it. It was from a
niece, and just a friendly letter of family affairs. Incidentally
his niece said in the letter that her children all had colds and the
reason for this was that the roof leaked, and the floor of the house
had holes in it, and she had been unable to get her landlord to make
repairs. After I had concluded reading the letter, “Uncle Steve”
thought for a moment, then said, “Could you go to Louisville for
me?” I told him that of course I could go if he wanted me to. He
then told me to go up there and buy her a house. I asked what kind
of a house and what I should pay. He then said for me to be sure I
got my money’s worth, and to pay, two, three or even five thousand
dollars for the house. I paid $3,000 for a house for her. It was
deeded to his niece, and “Uncle Steve” never saw that house. I
remember that the house was on Zane Street, and I suspect his niece
is living in it yet.
“He sold a business house in Glasgow for nine
thousand dollars and demanded and got the money in cash. He brought
this cash to my office and he and I divided it among his relatives,
with instructions that each should buy himself a house.
“One time I helped him in his negotiations to
purchase a house in Glasgow for which he was to pay forty-five
hundred dollars. The deed was drawn and ready for delivery and it
was time for “Uncle Steve” to pay. “Just wait a little while, and
I’ll be back.” He was gone some fifteen or twenty minutes, and when
he returned he had exactly forty-five hundred dollars in a little
split-bark basket with a napkin over the money. There was nothing
larger than a ten dollar bill in the basket and there were many ones
and several double hands full of silver.
“He came to my office once with the request that I go
to the Court House with him. He was dressed in a pair of jean pants,
a hickory shirt and a coat that as almost too ragged to wear. I did
not inquire as to why he needed me but went. I learned that he was
about to purchase some real estate from a fellow lawyer, for fifteen
hundred dollars, and had agreed to meet him in the vault of the
Clerk’s office to accept the deed and pay for it. “Uncle Steve”
commenced to go through his pockets and the largest bank note he had
was for five dollars. The denominations ranged from this on down to
a dime. He brought forth fifteen hundred dollars from the many folds
of his clothes. I stacked it into fifteen piles of one hundred
dollars each, and then shoved it across the table to the vendor, who
delivered the deed. “Uncle Steve” and I then left. It was not long
before the vendor came to my office saying, “That old n___ has gyped
me out of a hundred dollars." I asked how, and he then said, “Here
is the money, and there is only fourteen hundred dollars. Then it
occurred to me why “Uncle Steve” had wanted me to go along with him.
If “Uncle Steve” had been there alone, it would have cost him just
one hundred dollars. Incidentally, the vendor found his hundred
dollars in one dollar bills on the floor of the vault where he had
dropped it.
“One of the best citizens who knew of “Uncle Steve’s”
wealth said one day, “Steve, why don’t you bank you a fine home and
buy a good automobile and live comfortably for the balance of your
days?” “Uncle Steve” in his polite, gentle way, replied, “Mr.
Dickey, If I should do that, these n___s around her would say I was
uppity and would associate with me, and the white folks ain’t going
to associate with me anyway, and you know, Mr. Dickey, I just have
to have somebody to associate with.”
“Uncle Steve” had a custom of calling on his tenants
on Sunday forenoon. He carried an unpolished and unornamental
walking cane. With this cane he would rap on the front door. The
tenants knew that walking stick rap, and would meet him with the
week’s rent in their hand. And, woe betide the luckless renter, who
didn’t have it. He carried the cane only on Sunday morning.
“A revenue agent called on “Uncle Steve” once and
claimed that there was forty dollars more due him in taxes. “Uncle
Steve” did not think he owed this, and upon examination of the
matter, I came to the conclusion that he did not owe it. I advised
him that he could defeat the agent’s claim, but it would take a
lawsuit to do it. “Uncle Steve” thought the matter over for a moment
and then said, “Better pay him. I don’t want no lawsuit.” This
always was his attitude, to let himself be misused rather than to
get involved in any sort of litigation, even when he knew he was
right.
“I have seen “Uncle Steve” take money to the bank in
a half gallon tin bucket, and the money would literally be so old,
worn, and dirty, that the bank would at once forward it to
Washington for redemption. Before he died, he had given every
relative he had a home. He bought the land at his own expense, built
a very nice two-story school for the use of his people. In his will
he provided for his estate to help in the support of a colored
normal school, that was being privately operated with the aid of
voluntary donations.
“Once he came to my office to get me to make a trip
to Ohio to help some of his folks out of trouble. I figured the
railroad fare, hotel and Pullman cost, and told him the trip would
cost about a hundred dollars. He said that was all right and went
out. After awhile he returned and handed me some bills. These I
counted and found he had given me one hundred and fifty dollars. I
told him that he had given me too much and he said, “That’s all
right. When you travel for me, I want you to travel right.”
“I wrote my old friend’s will several years before
his death. I charged him twenty-five dollars for this service, and
he paid me two hundred and fifty dimes. After the will was written,
whenever he either sold or bought any property, he promptly added a
codicil, and at the time of his death, his will was right up to
date. He made two provisions in his will that are unusual but were
characteristic of him. One was, that if any legatee questioned his
will or south to have it set aside, that his executors should pay
that legatee nothing at all, and the estate legatees not protesting.
The other was, that no unnecessary expense be permitted at his
funeral. When I learned of my old friend’s death, at once I informed
them of the provision for a modest funeral, but already they had
purchased and placed his body in a twelve hundred dollar casket, so
we let it go at that. “Uncle Steve” no more wanted to be buried in
an expensive casket than he wanted to live in a fine home.”
PHOTO: "Traces", the publication of the South
Central Kentucky Historical and Genealogical Society, Sandi Gorin,
Editor. Volume 31, Issue No 1, Spring 2003. Cover