Merritt_Casso's+Tavern+and+Inn+(Merritt)

Raleigh, North Carolina Fall/Autumn 1833 One sunny, Saturday afternoon, while walking down Fayetteville Street, I just knew I was going to meet someone worth my time. I had spent much of my free time scoping out the new residents living behind, and on the property of, the Casso’s Tavern and Inn. All around town the Inn is being called the first successful, booming business in Raleigh so who wouldn’t want to live nearby. These new residents on my side of town lived in a petite house, suitable for not many people. It appeared to be one of the smallest log cabins I’d ever seen and oddly enough, it was sufficient for an entire family to live.

Days had gone by where I had been minding my own business, strolling by the Inn on my way to school. I just felt the urge to knock on the door of the new home and introduce myself. I mean everyone in this town knows I’m Jimmy Smithfield. I like to think I’m easy to get along with around the northeast but that’s just my opinion, many people beg to differ.

All of my friends in town are so unlike me. They think I am too much of a risk-taker, a boy with no work ethic or goals, and just a busy body. I was thought to be too old for my britches and making a mess out of situations. Yes, I tend to get into the town’s gossip and mess when skipping school, but it is boring and I am just looking for adventure at the age of fourteen. My friends always dropped like flies. Either their parents felt Raleigh was not enough of a booming city or they were told never to hang out with such a boy like myself. My Mama and Pop told me to be patient and someone worthy enough for my friendship would eventually walk my way. Hopefully my chance for someone to see my true colors was on the verge with the Johnson family.

I decided to walk into Casso’s Tavern and Inn first to visit with the owner, Mr. Pete Casso, who was a Revolutionary War soldier. I walked in, slapped my quarter on the counter for my Coke, and listened to his war stories. There was nothing greater than hearing about a man getting his leg shot off, a bomb flying through the air nearly missing his head or how the British armies looked silly in their uniforms. Mr. Casso always shared something different and exhilarating about his experiences; that’s what I truly loved and admired about him. No matter the crowd around the bar, the commotion of the restaurant and mail house, I always seemed to take priority. He made me feel special even despite my lack of loyal friends around town. He served as another father like figure to me.

Today was the day I was going to make a change to my name. I was going to make a first impression on the new neighbors and make them like me, or at least attempt to. Mr. Casso had informed me that Mr. and Mrs. Johnson were the newest employees at the Inn so I would go knock while the parents were hard at working.

I moseyed on around back of the Inn which was gigantic if you ask me. It served such a purpose to our town right at the foot of the state’s capital. It was not only a lodging house, but also a bar, stable, and cock fight pit. Also, Mrs. Casso’s bell was used in the evening hours to warn the town of a fire, which seemed to be helpful in a town where I swear fires pop up every other day for some odd reason.

I walked up the marble, ten foot path, and six stairs to the Johnson’s front porch. I took a deep breath and asked myself why I was actually really nervous to simply introduce myself to my soon to be friend. I knocked three times and patiently waited for a response. After about fifteen seconds William Johnson answered the door, wearing a pair of beat up cream colored pants, holes in each leg, and a shirt far too big for his size. I introduced myself, and immediately we hit it off.

We spent the remainder of the afternoon getting to know one another, sharing childhood stories and running all around town. I was thrilled to show someone around Raleigh, especially a person whose parents are so involved in the success of the town. I found out that William’s mother is a weaver and clothes washer, while his father is a hostler. I’m sure they work dawn to dusk so I expressed to him how I’m looking forward to spending time, even skipping school, to venture all around. He told me he missed his old town of Hillsborough, North Carolina but Raleigh would have to suffice for now. I mean, I stepped into his life, so what could be so bad. We could play war on the weekends and really start something special and fun! I know my parents will approve and maybe this would set me up for a great future. I knew it was getting late and my mother would be getting supper on the table soon, so I briskly walked back home. My friend, William, was the talk of the table. Mama and Pop were excited to hear about the new Johnson family, as they had already heard murmurs of such hard working people moving to Raleigh to help out the Casso’s. My family seemed so delighted that I had met a young boy who seemed accepting and willing to spend time with me.

The next morning, after our usual church service and lunch, I rushed down to meet William. I found him playing in the front yard, of course anticipating my arrival as I previously promised him. We got to know each other better, exchanged secrets, swung on the swings, wandered through the woods, and became closer in a matter of hours. The sun began to set and I knew it was time to run home, get cleaned up for dinner, and share my day. William had one last thing he wanted to show me in a nearby tree.

I walked over, looked inside a little nook, and saw a pack of matches. At first I thought this was silly. I was unsure why the matches were there, what the intent even was, and why he decided to show me. Immediately William asks me to play with these for a little bit longer. He persuaded me to believe my mother would not mind and that I would make it home just in time for dinner.

We spent some time lighting a match, watching it burn to the end, and then seeing how far we could throw the match. Of course we thought about the dangers of doing this, but we were having a good time, that everything slipped our mind in the end. After about thirty minutes of watching the matches burn things such as bark and leaves, I decided to go home. William and I parted, since we used the entire pack of matches, and went about our way saying we would reconvene after school on Monday.

As I was walking home I anticipated my mother to shout and tell me I must clean up before dinner, but she understood my new friendship. She valued quality time with the ones I loved, and thought about punishing me, but knew I had been on my best behavior lately.

As I lay in bed that evening I thought about all the adventures William and I had already taken. We complimented each other so well and I was excited to have a friend so close to home, since I was an only child all these years. Just as I was falling asleep I vaguely heard the town fire bell ringing from atop Casso’s Inn. Loud and continuous, the bell chimed alerting all of Raleigh that there was a fire. I thought nothing of this because over the summer month’s fire always spark and people just got use to hearing the noise. Now, my parent’s even stayed put because they know it was probably a false alarm or something not so serious.

The next morning, I awoke, got breakfast, and walked down Fayetteville Street to school. Mama and Pop traveled the same roads as me to work and walked me to school each day. As we came closer to Casso’s Inn there were swarms of people and the smell of fire. Police and fire trucks had blocked off the entire area surrounding the Inn, including the Johnson’s house. All we could see were flames still blazing and people asking for help. The first thing that came across my mind was the fact that I, Jimmy Smithfield, was playing with matches just last night. I quickly ran up and began asking questions. Of course people just told me that the Casso’s Inn was burning to the ground. There were not nearly enough fire trucks, or gallons of water, to put out the flames. I turned to the right and saw William who was sitting on his porch in tears watching everything unfold. I turned to my left and saw the owners, Mr. & Mrs. Casso panicking and attempting to calm down the crowd of people.

One fire chief walks over to the hundreds of people seeking questions and announcing that the fire was clearly started by a single match, possibly kids playing late last evening. Officials found numerous matches towards to the back of the building, close to the Johnson’s residence. Immediately my mother glared at me. If looks had the power to kill I would probably be dead. I assumed she thought I had something to do with the fire starting, but I had no idea how to handle the situation or myself for that matter. Everything around Casso’s Inn seemed to be a disaster zone. I quickly ran straight to William for answers and noticed he was crying. He did not even have to say words for me to know that one of matches we were playing with last night must not have been fully blown out and caught the Inn on fire. We were the culprits. I realized that I had disappointed my town, Mr. and Mrs. Casso, my family, and most importantly myself!