Henry was the 8th of eleven children of Henry H. & Mirah Teague Worley. With exception of oldest son who was born in NC, all of Henry & Mirah's children were born in Georgia; they were in Gilmer County by 1850.

An account of the death of Henry Worley is included in G. G. Ward's book about the early history of Gilmer County. (No specific sources of information cited by Mr. Ward.) One should do their own research to fully understand the oft-misunderstood, maligned & ridiculed people of Appalachia, as well as the aftermath of the Civil War. One of the ways chosen by the federal government to ensure the South paid for the Civil War was to impose a tax on all liquor manufactured. For generations, whiskey-making had been common among the "mountain people" - they considered such a tax to be an invasion of their personal rights and liberties. Making and selling whiskey was also the only way the majority of these people had of obtaining "cash money." The situation was further aggravated by the government's willingness to pay people who provided them with the locations of stills, thus setting friend against friend.

According to Ward, Henry Worley was part of a "mob whose main, if not only, purpose was to intimidate those who might help the officers ..." To shield their identity, these mobs often wore masks or sheets over their heads, which led to them being referred to as "whitecappers", (a term that later "journalists/historians" frequently equated with the KKK). According to Ward, around 1890 Henry Worley had tired of this activity. Fearful of what Henry might do, his former cronies (all masked) called on Mr. Worley one night. They took him through the mountains, miles from his home, to a location in extreme south Murray County where they stopped under a large tree where they decided to hang him. As 2-3 men made the final preparations, one of them slipped a knife to Henry. Just as the loose end of the rope was caught by one of the men detailed to hang him, Henry slashed the rope, slid from his horse and vanished into the night. He made his way back home and uneasily resumed work on his farm.

Some time later (year not specified), Henry was plowing his field on a spring day when he noticed two men on horseback approaching via a seldom-used road at the edge of the field. As they came closer, he saw that both were armed and masked. Sensing their intent, he calmly stopped work, sent his young daughter (who was in field with him) to the house for a part for the plow. She had not reached the house when gunfire erupted, followed immediately by a frightened mule, its loose plow bounding behind, tearing by and plunging toward the house.

"This time Henry Worley did not escape the mob.

"But he did not die in vain, for the people began about this time the big push that suppressed these mobs."

(See Eliza's memorial for info re daughter, Kemmie Worley)