conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What could be a title for a book about Huntsville, Mexico, Valley with the genre: History, Americas?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this book could be 'Hidden History of North Alabama'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the first five paragraphs for this book
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Hidden History of North Alabama
  For the next twenty-seven years, the vacant mansion saw no visitor but the occasional winter fog that rolled in. A caretaker stayed near the mansion to watch over it as it sat, fully furnished, decaying in total abandonment. In 1944, the executors of the Garth estate sold the once beautiful old hotel for only $9,000. It was torn down and sold for scrap.
  The old railroad bed, now a rocky footpath for nature lovers, still snakes its way to the top of Monte San Mountain. Although one can imagine the scenic beauty enjoyed by the visitors as they made the train trip, the remnants of harrowing hairpin turns indicate the danger as well.
  Today, the only evidence that remains of the gathering place of some of the most famous people of that time is a lone three-story chimney, lovingly tended and preserved.
  For many years, Colonel LeRoy Pope has been known as the father of Huntsville. Local children learn it in school, and Pope's image is at the center of a magnificent two-story mosaic in the Madison County Courthouse. In the last few years, however, historians have chipped away at the brittle veneer of deception to find that facts don't support the glorious myth.
  The mansion built by LeRoy Pope in Huntsville sits high atop Echols Hill. When it was completed in 1814, he boasted that from his porch, he had the finest view of all of Huntsville. One of his enemies was about to change all that. When Joshua Cox built his home below the bluff, he made sure that the ceilings were extra tall. The two-story home below blocked Pope's view of downtown Huntsville and has been forevermore known as the Spite House. But Joshua Cox wouldn't have the last word. Apparently, Mr. Cox did not have clear title to the property; the man who did was none other than LeRoy Pope. In a firestorm of anger and bitterness, Mr. Cox was evicted from his beautiful home, and the Spite House became the new home of Pope's daughter.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: five more paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Many people are convinced that Quantrill saw the opportunity to start over with a clean slate and took advantage of his second chance. According to Annie Guthrie, a resident of Guntersville, Alabama, the following story has been passed down through her family.
  After the Civil War, a Confederate prisoner, who was among those paroled from the Elmira Prison Camp in New York, began his journey back to the South. Elmira, nicknamed "Hellmira" by those who survived, had a 25 percent death rate, slightly below the death rate of Andersonville, Georgia. The surgeon of Elmira boasted that he had killed more Confederates than any Union soldier. Clothing sent in by prisoners' families was burned unless it was gray in color, and consequently, many died of exposure. Deaths from scurvy, disease and malnutrition were excessive. Those who survived were lucky.
  One of the Elmira alumni put a great deal of distance between himself and the infamous prison when he stopped in a community on North Alabama's Sand Mountain. He lived with a Methodist minister and his family. While there, he found grace in the eyes of God and became a Christian. In fact, he became a Methodist minister himself. The man went by the name of William Clark McCoy. He was educated, and in addition to being a Methodist minister, he also edited a newspaper. He fell in love with and married a fifteen-year-old girl who had suffered from polio as a child. Before long, they started a family.
  It wasn't long, however, before rumors began to circulate about the similarities between the late William Clarke Quantrill and the Reverend William Clark McCoy. Both had black hair, and both men were missing a finger on one hand. Both men had a tattoo of an Indian maiden. When a newspaperman from Birmingham tried to interview Mrs. McCoy, the five-foot-tall woman chased him off with her cane.
  There were other clues as well. In 1884, Frank James, a former member of Quantrill's Raiders, was held in a Huntsville jail to await trial on an accusation of robbing Alexander Smith, the government paymaster, near Muscle Shoals, Alabama, in 1881. While he was incarcerated, Reverend William Clark McCoy went to visit the prisoner. When he walked in, a surprised Frank James exclaimed, "Well Bill! I thought you were dead!"
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the first sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: According to Annie Guthrie, a resident of Guntersville, Alabama, the following story has been passed down through her family.
  After the Civil War, a Confederate prisoner, who was among those paroled from the Elmira Prison Camp in New York, began his journey back to the South. Elmira, nicknamed "Hellmira" by those who survived, had a 25 percent death rate, slightly below the death rate of Andersonville, Georgia. The surgeon of Elmira boasted that he had killed more Confederates than any Union soldier. Clothing sent in by prisoners' families was burned unless it was gray in color, and consequently, many died of exposure. Deaths from scurvy, disease and malnutrition were excessive. Those who survived were lucky.
  One of the Elmira alumni put a great deal of distance between himself and the infamous prison when he stopped in a community on North Alabama's Sand Mountain. He lived with a Methodist minister and his family. While there, he found grace in the eyes of God and became a Christian. In fact, he became a Methodist minister himself. The man went by the name of William Clark McCoy. He was educated, and in addition to being a Methodist minister, he also edited a newspaper. He fell in love with and married a fifteen-year-old girl who had suffered from polio as a child. Before long, they started a family.
  It wasn't long, however, before rumors began to circulate about the similarities between the late William Clarke Quantrill and the Reverend William Clark McCoy. Both had black hair, and both men were missing a finger on one hand. Both men had a tattoo of an Indian maiden. When a newspaperman from Birmingham tried to interview Mrs. McCoy, the five-foot-tall woman chased him off with her cane.
  There were other clues as well. In 1884, Frank James, a former member of Quantrill's Raiders, was held in a Huntsville jail to await trial on an accusation of robbing Alexander Smith, the government paymaster, near Muscle Shoals, Alabama, in 1881. While he was incarcerated, Reverend William Clark McCoy went to visit the prisoner. When he walked in, a surprised Frank James exclaimed, "Well Bill! I thought you were dead!"
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the last three paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The next morning, Faye wandered downstairs, bleary-eyed and exhausted. Her host was surprised when she told him of her sleepless night, but when she told him what had happened, he had an explanation. The slamming of the door was caused when the air conditioner came on. The woman's scream was not a woman at all but a neighbor's peacock wandering past the home, making much the same sound as a woman. The gunshot was explained with an apology. The host had fired his gun in order to scare off local students of Florence State who frequently drove out for late-night beer sessions.
  It could have been the ghost of Parson Dick, the slave who served as the butler inside the mansion. He was married, but his wife lived on a nearby plantation, which he frequently visited. During the Union occupation, Parson Dick rode a horse one day to pay a visit to his wife. He never arrived at his destination and was never seen or heard from again. Is he lost, looking for his way, or is he trying to communicate the mystery of his fate? Or could the ghost be that of a mulatto slave named Queen, thought to be the daughter of James Jackson Jr., who left the Forks of Cypress at the end of the Civil War, traveled to Decatur and went to Tennessee? Although Queen was treated differently—perhaps a little better than most of the Jackson family slaves—her father did not acknowledge her as his daughter. The beautiful former slave was the grandmother of writer Alex Haley, whose family stories were incorporated into his novels. It would make sense that, given the history of the home and the number of people who once lived there, more than a few ghosts remained.
  On the occasion of Faye's next visit, she was shown to a different guest room. She put down her suitcase and laughingly made a comment out loud, something to the effect of, "I suppose I will not be staying with the ghost in the other room tonight." No sooner had the words come out of her mouth than a cut-glass candy dish flew across a table and clattered loudly onto the floor. She was shaken by the response of whatever, or whomever, she had encountered—but not enough to stay away. She was invited again to visit the Forks of Cypress and gladly accepted. She did not make that trip, however, because she planned to arrive on June 7, 1966—the day after the home burned to the ground.