Building Blocks

Heirloom of the Week - the Victrola

2012-01-25T18:11:00.001-08:00

Not too long ago I was in an antique store eavesdropping on the conversation between a father and his little girl who were shopping nearby. The father had been flipping through a bin of old LP records and his daughter wanted to know what they were. He explained that in the "old days" you listened to music on the large vinyl discs before the invention of CDs and iPods.

Well, I was immediately reduced to elderly status. I have several boxes of those antiques in the back of my closet and they were prized possessions back in my teen years. The look of complete incomprehension on her face was comical. I wondered what she would have thought about the old 78s that were just going out of style when I was her age.

We had quite a pile of 78s when I was about 3-4 years old. They were old then and a lot of them bit the dust when my parents made popcorn bowls out of them for a church social by heating them until they could be shaped into bowls. I think the few that remained must have been in the box of records that got lost during the move from Smiley.

But one made it and I have it still. More about that in a minute.

One of the items that my grandmother Hodge passed along to me was a portable 78-rpm Brunswick victrola. You wind it with a crank and then release the turntable to spin until the mechanism runs down. One winding would last a record or two. In a little compartment at the front edge you kept extra needles handy, because they wore down quickly. I don't really know where the little phonograph came from, but I remember that my aunt Linda and I would get it out every so often and play a few 78s with their scratchy, old-fashioned sound.

By the time I acquired the phonograph, there were no 78 records in the storage area under the top lid. I scrounged an old Hank Williams 78 in an antique store so I would have one to display with my heirloom Victrola.

It was later that I remembered there was one 78 record that escaped the popcorn bowl craft project. For years it had been stored in Mother's Lane cedar chest to protect it from harm and later it had been displayed for awhile in the china closet. I relocated the old record and now it, too, resides in the storage area inside the Victrola.

What made this old record special enough to escape the craft project is the autograph of the singer that is faintly scratched into the label. It is really hard to see now, but if you hold it under the light just right, you can see the words "Sincerely, Jimmie Rodgers". I'm not sure who it was who saw Jimmie Rodgers in person, but the record has been around for as long as I can remember.

At one time Mother wrote to the Country Music Hall of Fame to inquire if the record had any value. Today I came across the letter she received in return, which prompted this little stroll down memory lane. Basically they told her that the record had no real intrinsic value except to a collector who just wanted an autographed Jimmie Rodgers 78, but the letter ended with a hint that items like this could always be donated to the Country Music Hall of Fame. Mother was not inclined to make such a donation.

The old 78 records run about $2-$10 in antique stores these days. The autograph is so faint it probably would not be that desirable to a collector, so I doubt this particular heirloom has much value. But somewhere in the past one of my relatives stood in a line to get an autographed copy of "Blue Yodel No. 6" by the Singing Brakeman, and that makes it special to me.

LSW

Frankum Family Portrait 1991

2011-07-10T07:52:00.000-07:00

For over a year I have pondered the purchase of a portable scanner called the Flip-Pal. When you are a genealogist in motion, you quite frequently run into an unexpected photo or document in the hands of a distant cousin and that you would give your eye teeth to get a copy of into your personal collection. You hate to ask to borrow a precious item and you can see they hate to be asked, so you settle for taking a photo of the item with your camera. That is a hit or miss solution that disappoints more often than not.

At one point I purchased a full sized scanner that was fairly lightweight and lugged it along to family gatherings. That required lugging along my laptop and setting the whole mess up somewhere out of the way and missing the opportunity to visit because I was off in a corner slowly scanning the day away. And, a full size scanner was out of the question for airplane trips.

Some years ago I had tried a wand scanner and been severely disappointed with the thing. It was even more hit or miss than the camera, you could not check the scans until you downloaded them into a computer, and likely as not you would find out you had a collection of fragments rather than whole photos or documents.

The Flip-Pal came on the market about a year ago and seemed to be the answer to my problems. It is completely self-contained, runs on AA batteries, is lightweight, small enough to fit in my purse and has a display window that allows you to check your scans. In addition, it comes with software that allows you to stitch together multiple scans of objects too large for its scanning window. A year later the positive reviews much outweighed the mediocre and negative reviews and I decided the time was right. It was waiting on my doorstep when I got home Friday afternoon.

I decided to test it out with a group photo taken at my grandmother Ivy Wilcoxen's 90th birthday. Until now it was one of the few photos I had not preserved digitally because it was too big to be processed with even my large scanner. I set about breaking the 10-inch by 20-inch photo into 6 separate scans and then held my breath when I instructed the program to stitch the 6 pieces back together.

I was floored when the program produced an almost perfect composite of the 6 scans. The only flaw was a small area on the far right which was probably my fault when I scanned that area. I am very pleased with the first major test and I look forward to carting my little toy along when I have the slightest expectation that I will run into some photo or item I need to add to my collection.

Frankums, Wilcoxens and Friends

Pleasant Hill Baptist Church fellowship hall

Austin, Texas, 1991

And now, I ask my kinfolks to assist me in identifying all the people to be found in this photo treasure. While I know most of the dear people, I am unable to identify some of the children and friends who are included here. I also sometimes confuse names and faces, for which I apologize in advance if I've done so here.

Please email me or leave a comment below if you find an error or blank in my identification efforts.

1 - Edward Frankum

2 - Donna Frankum

3 - Keith Harrington

4 - Grace Johnston Harrington

5 - Joan Bownds Frankum

6 - Jim Butcher

7 - James Owens

8 - Peggy Frankum Murff

9 - Ruby Frankum Johnston

10 - Kenneth Frankum

11 - Barbara Green Frankum

12 - Vivian Kirkpatrick Frankum

13 - Jo Ann Smith Wilcoxen

14 - Rene Frankum Giles

15 - Dean Frankum

16 - Buddy Wilcoxen

17 - Faye McVay Butcher

18 - Janie McVay Thaman

19 - Mark McBrayer

20 - Marla Harrington McBrayer

21 - Markie McBrayer

22 - Chelsea Ibbeken Wall

23 - Kim Linder Schmidt

24 - David Wilcoxen

25 - Ann McVay Owens

26 - Ruth Wilcoxen Wilks

27 - Karen LeFevre

28 - Wanda Keith Frankum

29 - Ivy Frankum Wilcoxen

30 - James Karnes

31 - Bobby Frankum

32 - Laura Wilks Karnes

33 - Carol McVay

34 - Ora Frankum Lamb

35 - Earl McVay

36 - Virgie Frankum McVay Tiner

37 - Daniel Melton

38 - Nancy Warner Lamb

39 - Cindy Wilcoxen

40 - Erin Linder

41 - Casey Ibbeken

42 - Rachel Murff Fuller

43 - Lindsey Shipman

44 - Glynda Johnston Wester

45 - Dwight Lamb

46 - Mary Shutte(?)

47 - Donnie Wilks

48 - Norman Frankum

49 - Evelyn Shutte Smith

50 - Niki McVay (?)

51 - Neta Keith Frankum

52 - Mrs. Vivian McClanahan

53 - Erleen McVay

54 - Denise Melton Jechow

55 - John Thaman

56 - Clodie Nell Reeves Wyatt

57 - Lela Nuse

58 - Leroy McVay

59 - Calvin Wyatt

60 - Mrs. Eberhart(?)

61 - Cody McVay(?)

62 - Ross Shutte

63 - Oliver Tiner

64 - Craig Frankum

65 - Cassidy Shipman

What a quality group of folks gathered there that day to honor my grandmother. I was privileged to be there with them.

LSW

Update 7/11/2011 - Thanks to cousin Karen Frankum Ryman, we've almost got everybody identified.

Update 7/12/2011 - Thanks to cousin Glynda Johnston Wester we now have a name for every face.

Heirlooms of the Week - The Bibles

2011-07-04T11:52:00.001-07:00

I have an abnormal amount of Bibles in my possession. A few are mine, acquired down through the years. The rest of them once belonged to (mostly) relatives. As word got out that I was standing ready, willing and able to take on the caretaking of whatever family papers and objects that relatives, near and far, would like to pass into my care, the stack of Bibles began to grow. I would guess that I have 25 or 30 of them at this point.

Looking through a newly acquired Bible is always an adventure. You find all sorts of things tucked inside: obituaries of friends and relatives, old church bulletins, poetry cut out of magazines, birthday and Mother's day cards, pictures and the odd gum wrapper. I regret that in the early days I was not so good about keeping the Bibles in their original condition, removing the items inside and placing them in my family notebooks. Nowadays I scan what I find and put the original material back where I found it. That way, when I take a sudden notion to flip through one of the old Bibles, I am pleasantly surprised to feel the presence of the original owner, as if they are standing over my shoulder watching.

The two Bibles in the next photo were once used by my Hodge grandparents (the black one on the left) and my great aunt Fay Hodge Branton (the blue one on the right).

The next two Bibles belonged to my Wilcoxen grandparents. The tattered black one was my Grandpa's. The one lying open behind it belonged to Grandma and had a special treasure awaiting inside. Grandma had taken the time to fill out marriage dates, birth dates, death dates and military service data, as well as a capsule of her own family history. While it can't be used as an "official" source, it is wonderful to have all of this information in her own handwriting.

One day my grandmother Lucy Hodge gave me a very large Bible in horrible condition, missing both covers and the necessary page with the publication date that would have made this an official Family Bible. It had belonged to my great-grandmother Mary Caroline Morgan Sewell Mobley. In Mary Caroline's handwriting are a handful of dates, including the only record I have ever found giving the date of her marriage to Joseph Mobley and the only record I have ever seen concerning the child she had with her first husband G. W. Sewell, a little girl who died in infancy. It is bulky and tattered, but a treasure in my family archives.

The small Bible on the right, the cover spotted with some kind of decay, belonged to my great-grandmother Cora Mobley Hodge, Mary Caroline's youngest daughter.

I have the Bible my mother carried to church every Sunday (the black one in the middle of the photo below) as well as several of my father's Bibles. He wore them out quickly. The ragged black Bible on the left was given to him by Pleasant Hill Baptist Church when he was just starting out in the ministry. He carried his ordination papers inside until he gave them to me. The large Bible lying open behind has been literally read to pieces. It is held together by Scotch and duct tape and heavily annotated by my father in every shade of ink. The little book at upper right is not a Bible, but a Minister's handbook. I was pleasantly surprised to find it among his belongings after he died. Inside on the end papers, both front and back, is a meticulous record of funerals he conducted or assisted with over a period of more than 20 years. He began the record before we moved to Smiley and kept it for a number of years after we moved to Bastrop. The list includes many, many relatives.

The last little Bible on the far right was another of those unexpected surprises. My grandmother Hodge gave it to me along with several other Bibles and I don't recall her saying anything special about it. It is small, in pieces, and missing the back cover. I didn't immediately realize what I had. But one day I gave it a closer inspection and discovered that it had belonged to my great-grandmother Nettie McAfee Mason and on the loose pages at the end she had recorded the birth dates and death dates and marriage dates for herself, both husbands, and all of her children.

They are not the prettiest items in my collection, but they are treasures nonetheless. Not only do they come with odds and ends of items that can cause a genealogist to go giddy, they are imprinted with the personalities of those who carried them on many a Sunday and studied them for understanding or for comfort in bad times.

"The Bible is a good book that's even better when it's the worse for wear."

LSW

Adopted Heirlooms

2011-06-22T06:14:00.000-07:00

There are three heirlooms in my home that did not come down through family channels, but are treasured keepsakes nonetheless. They were given to us by church members while we were living in Smiley.

My father was not only pastor of the Smiley First Baptist Church; he also served as pastor of the small, neighboring Baptist congregation in Westhoff, a tiny community twelve miles east of Smiley. The Westhoff Baptist Church was a fascinating old building that I visited often, whether at services where I sometimes filled in as the pianist, or whether I practiced piano there while my mother was having her hair done by a lady who lived a few doors away.

There was a dear lady who was a member of that tiny congregation. When we first met her, she was Mrs. Winslet, a sweet little widow. During my father's tenure there as pastor, she married a Mr. Cordes, also a member of the church, and we frequently visited in their home after services. My mother and Mrs. Cordes would talk antiques on some of those social visits and she gave two items in her collection to my mother.

A pressed glass bread tray had been rescued by Mrs. Cordes from a neighbor's chicken pen. The family had been using it to hold water or feed for their chickens and somehow, miraculously, it had survived the elements and the chickens without a chip. I believe she traded the neighbor a more appropriate container and the bread tray survived to be given to my mother. It is old enough that it was carefully stored in the china cabinet for years and never used. Several years ago I ran across a twin of the bread tray in a local antiques store for a ridiculously low price and could not resist bringing it home with me, so I now have a matched set. More recently I spotted a third one at the Round Top Antiques Fair, but it was not so reasonably priced and I had to pass it by.

When I brought home the antique oak vanity a couple of Antiques Fairs ago, I began searching for a tray to hold my cosmetics and was unhappy with the cheap, gaudy trays available. I went rooting around in the china closet and rediscovered the bread trays. I decided it was time that I enjoyed some of the glass that has stayed hidden in the closet all these years and chose one of the trays to sit on my vanity. I have not regretted the decision and have thoroughly enjoyed having it out where I can see and admire it daily.

On another occasion, Mrs. Cordes gave my mother a lamp that I assume dates back to the Art Deco period. It was a murky color, missing a finial and came with a battered green oval lampshade, but it had lovely lines and a pretty green glass accent. Mother sprayed the lamp white and, unfortunately, discarded the lampshade. (I've not been able to find an appropriate lampshade anywhere. How I wish she had hung onto the frame so that I could have recovered it.) Mother chose to use candle bulbs and leave it shadeless. Not too long ago, I decided to add two small shades and a glass finial and I love the effect. I've always been rather fond of this lamp and Mother officially gave it to me one Christmas.

Not too long ago I was poking around the Elgin Antique Mall and stumbled across a lamp that is in original condition.

Now I know that my version of the lamp is closer to the original design. Now I have a mission to locate a set of original glass shades and the original finial that echoes the arms of the lamp. I would have happily added the second lamp to my collection, but, alas, it was way out of my price range. I continue to check on it, hoping that it will go on sale at some point. At least now I know what my lamp originally looked like.

The third adopted heirloom came from inside a chicken house in Smiley. I do not remember the details of how it came that the church member knew Mother would be interested in a parlor stove. It had been stored in the chicken house for years, but it had beauty that shone out from the years of grime and dirt it had accumulated. Mother cleaned it up, painted it, and it has been sitting in a corner of the living room for a good 40 or more years.

I have to confess that I was never all that enamored of this particular acquisition and seriously contemplated putting it up for sale in order to recapture a bit of space. Then I got to checking various online auction sites and began to realize that these old parlor stoves are quite collectible in certain circles. About the same time, a repairman I had called out for some air conditioning troubles caught sight of it and had to take a few minutes out to examine it from all angles. I decided I should back up and rethink my attitude. I started to do some research to see just what I had.

It turns out this stove dates to the early 1900s. In the October 5, 1905, edition of the Earlington, Kentucky, Bee, my stove is advertised by a furniture company out of Evansville, Indiana.

According to the advertisement, these stoves were sold for between $5 and $25 dollars, depending on size. That would be comparable to $120 to $598 dollars now, a modest investment for a home improvement. The folks who brought home my parlor stove in the early 1900s were probably just as proud of it as I am of my new washing machine.

For now, the stove is staying right where it is. I've learned a new respect for it.

All of these adopted heirlooms have been with me since the mid 1960s. Maybe they did not come down through my own family, but they have become valued friends over the years. They give me pleasure for their beauty and also for their association with Smiley and Westhoff, two places that are dear in my memory. Mrs. Cordes has been gone for many years, but every time I see the lamp or the bread tray, I think about her. Mr. Robinson is gone now, too, but I remember him whenever I pass by the old stove.

I'm not sure whether the items themselves or the memories they evoke are the real heirlooms in this instance.

LSW

Heirloom of the Week

2010-11-25T18:19:00.001-08:00

Once upon a time this little camel-backed trunk was the property of my great-grandmother Cora Amanda Mobley Hodge. It sat for many years in my grandparents' house, full of assorted odds and ends. Sometime in the 1970s my mother brought it home and turned it into an art project. Covering objects with gold foil was popular at the time and she proceeded to convert the rusty brown trunk into a golden trunk. Only the hinges, wooden trim pieces and lock were left un-foiled.

The foiling has not held up all that well over time and refurbishing furniture is not my thing, so when we moved, it ended up sitting in the garage for awhile. My mother had used it to store her sewing patterns and piece goods intended for future sewing projects. When I finally got around to emptying the trunk, the patterns were in tatters and the cloth was brittle. For awhile the trunk sat empty and I debated whether to put it in the pile of things to go to the thrift store or to just junk it. The hinges had been broken for as long as I could remember and the lid just sits loosely on top of the base. The state of disrepair, not to mention the application of gold foil, has rendered its value pretty much nil as an antique.

But I could not bring myself to dispose of it. I'm a real sucker for hanging on to the items that give me a tangible link to my ancestors. So not long ago I hauled it back into the house and decided to use it to store other pieces of family history that are in my custody.

In the top tray you will find my mother's and my brother's baby shoes, my great-great-grandmother Mary Caroline Mobley's and my grandmother Lucy Hodge's purses, my great-grandfather Elmo Hodge's toothbrushes, photograph albums and a box of newspaper clippings that belonged to my great Aunt Fay Hodge Branton.

In the large lower section are my father's sermons, my great-great-grandmother Mobley's Bible, my baby book, the registry book from my great-grandmother Nettie Mason's funeral, the guest book from my parents' wedding, various diplomas earned by my parents and myself, cards that were sent to my grandmother after my grandfather Horace Hodge's death, various scrapbooks from my school years, notebooks and scraps of paper filled with my father's poetry, the black funeral notice that hung on the family door when my great-great-grandfather Joseph Mobley died, and other bits and pieces of family memorabilia that have been placed in my care.

It is not a thing of beauty on its own. It is just an old, beaten up trunk that has seen better days. But it sits in my study, holding things I value because they link me with the past. If I ever have to evacuate, the first 5 things I will grab are the cats and dogs. The 6th thing I will grab is the little hard drive that holds a back up of all the genealogy files and family photos. After that I will grab the little gold-foiled trunk. It holds a pile of family treasures.

LSW

Black Clouds Hover

2010-07-28T17:34:00.000-07:00

I had an unexpected opportunity to re-educate a co-worker the other day when she remarked how "boring" genealogy was. Why did I want to do it? All those names and dates! Just not interesting at all.

Ah, I said. You have to flesh out those names and dates. You have to place them in the historical period in which they lived. You need to search out the stories that turn them into real people. You never know what you will find that will turn out to be absolutely fascinating. And then I proceeded to regale her with the tales of my nefarious great-great grandfather Henry Hodge and a few of the adventures of my great-great grandfather McAfee who fought with Custer. A half-hour later she was still interested in my stories and asking questions. She didn't look bored at all.

I feel sorry for people who never go any deeper into genealogy than to build that grid of names and dates and places for their sixteen great-grandparents. What a lot they miss if they never seek out the family traditions you only learn by visiting with the older members of the family. What a lot they miss by never looking into the lives of the aunts and uncles and cousins.

Let's take my Mason line, for instance. I have about come to the conclusion that there is a black cloud that hovers over that family. Just yesterday I uncovered another story in a long ago newspaper that helps prove my theory.

You may recall a photo I posted sometime back of the tree where my great-grandfather Burl Mason was found hanging on August 20, 1925. That has always been a shadow on the family history that remains unexplained. Was his death suicide or murder? We may never know the truth about that incident.

Burl's death was not the only disturbing death in the Mason family. Burl's father John also met an untimely demise at the age of 41, while the family was still living in Indiana. The story passed down by my grandmother is that an epidemic, possibly cholera, had swept through the community. All the members of one family had perished and John was one of the men elected to go in and clear out the house. He contracted the disease and died shortly afterward.

John's widow Mary remarried and she and her new husband moved the family to Smithville, Texas. Brothers Burl, John and Henry Mason and sister Hulda (who had married William Ashley) are alive and well in the 1880 Bastrop County census. Court records show that Hulda died in her early 30's and cemetery records show that Henry died when he was in his early 20's. I have not been able to find death records for either of them, but it is still disturbing to know that they died so young.

Hulda's widower William Ashley remarried shortly after her death. About ten years into his second marriage, he and one of his new brothers-in-law were killed by a train at a crossing near Smithville. Apparently the horse team pulling their wagon spooked and ran into the path of the train. Both men and the team of horses were killed and another brother-in-law seriously injured in the 1899 accident.

To compound this tragedy, the two brothers-in-law were also related by marriage to Burl and his brother John. James Fariss (killed) and Charles Fariss (injured) were the brothers of Burl's first wife Pinkie and the uncles of John's first wife Mary. What a sad multiple tragedy to hit the family. A short two years later Pinkie would die from cancer, leaving three small children.

After Pinkie's death, Burl remarried to my ancestress Nettie McAfee, herself a widow, and they blended their two families. In 1903, when Nettie was pregnant with their first child together, Kleeber, a relative came to visit and was ill with whooping cough. Nettie herself became sick and the strain of the disease brought on the birth prematurely. Little Kleeber lived only a few weeks, too frail to survive.

Another family story, as yet unproven, says that Burl's brother John died in 1916 from blood poisoning, contracted after skinning a squirrel. Another source says that he died from pneumonia. In either case, John was dead at about age 41.

With the advent of newspaper archives being loaded online, I have uncovered a few other tragic deaths in the Mason family. The year 1951 was not a good one for the Mason family.

On February 9, 1951, John's grandson Johnie "Sonny" Mason was working as a crew member on a shrimp boat in West Bay out of Galveston, when an explosion blew Johnie off the boat. His body was recovered the following day and the official cause of death was compound fracture of the skull. Johnie's father Dock Mason died one week later from pulmonary tuberculosis.

In May 1951, Burl's grandson and namesake, Burl William Branum, was accidentally electrocuted while working on the docks on the north side of the Houston ship channel.

What a dull genealogy it would be indeed had I not dug a little deeper into this family's history. As I find these stories of human interest, it brings the dry genealogy charts to life. I find myself wondering how the Mason and Fariss families, who were so thoroughly intertwined, managed to cope with all the tragedy that befell them in such a short period of time.

And you might understand why I now wonder if there is a shadow on that particular line.

LSW

Music in the Air

2010-05-26T05:53:00.000-07:00

This past month has been stressful, both on the work and personal fronts. May brings a month of crushing workload as we work on mailing statutory notices for the majority of our clients. It also brings two events that I do my best not to miss - the Frankum family reunion and the big Texas Miniatures Showcase in Dallas. Bottom line is that I am working and traveling non-stop for the better part of three weeks before things level off and get back to normal.

Just as that flurry of activity died down, my little boy got gravely ill and spent a weekend in hospital. (See Woolgathering for that story.) I ended up taking a sick day on Monday, suffering a tension headache and general exhaustion. Tuesday I was back on duty, although the headache was still there in the background.

When the lunch hour arrived, I decided to go to a bookstore for a little stress relief. Libraries and bookstores can usually be counted on to give my spirits a boost. When I first arrived, I thought I had made a big, big mistake. There were fussy toddlers everywhere and this little old spinster lady does not tolerate that kind of noise with grace. I kept going to the farthest corner away from them, only to have them trail after me like I had toddler magnets in my purse.

And then I got a gift. The promotional CDs that play on the music intercom shifted to a string of numbers by Jerry Lee Lewis. I know that Jerry Lee Lewis is one of those performers you either love or hate. Daddy loved Jerry Lee and started early passing along to me an appreciation of his music. I can remember one of the first records he bought when we got our big stereo back in 1960 was a collection of hits from Sun records, including Whole Lot of Shaking Going On and Breathless.

I have long been grateful to my father for giving me an eclectic musical taste. He liked classical, gospel, bluegrass, rockabilly, big band, and country-western and he acquired records from all those genres and played them often. He probably drove my poor piano teacher crazy, putting in a request every year for a particular piece to be included in my yearly recital. She was a willing participant nonetheless and thanks to him my recitals varied from numbers such as the Warsaw Concerto to Walk in the Black Forest to Pinetop's Boogie Woogie. (I usually played two numbers in the later years, giving her the opportunity to work with me on Beethoven sonatas and Chopin etudes, more her idea of what constituted a recital piece. I believe the year I played the Boogie Woogie was also the year I played Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. Daddy loved them both. I'm sure everyone else there thought I was schizophrenic.)

I'm sure there were a lot of customers in the store yesterday who were irritated by the onslaught of Jerry Lee Lewis, but I was tapping my foot and swaying to the rhythm. It wasn't long before I was headed to the counter to find the cd to purchase.

I am a curious blend of traits inherited from my parents, but I inherited a love of bookstores from both. From Daddy I inherited an appreciation of a wide variety of music. I almost felt the two of them hovering over my shoulder yesterday as I soaked in the restorative powers of both, willing me to relax.

Daddy tickles the ivories

Another year, another recital

LSW

Heirloom of the Week

2010-02-25T19:56:00.001-08:00

When I was a kid, I used to play with this Brownie camera, not appreciating its history. Now it holds an honored place in my collection of family memorabilia. This little Brownie contributed many of the family photos in my possession. It sits here on the tattered photograph album that belonged to my mother and which she filled with photos from her college years. There are photos of her and her classmates at Mary Hardin-Baylor, there are photos of the family taken on summer breaks, there are photos of old boyfriends and of her cousins.

I am currently putting together a slide show to run as part of the memorial service we have planned for Mother. I decided to go back through the old album and check for photos I might have missed scanning and that should be included. I ran across the one below, which I found interesting for several reasons.

The photo was taken during Mother's freshman year at Mary Hardin-Baylor and, if I'm not mistaken, was taken on the porch of Ely Pepper dormitory. Ely Pepper was torn down some years back, but it still stood when I was attending college there. It had been turned over to the business department and converted to classrooms and I spent many an hour there as I worked toward my Business Administration degree. Both Mother and my Aunt Bettye were residents of the dormitory during their years there.

Both Mother and I experienced truly spectacular snowfalls (for Central Texas) during our respective freshman years at Mary Hardin-Baylor. I have numerous photos of her and her roommates playing in the snow that fell in 1949. That I rediscovered this photo on Tuesday when we were enjoying a rare and beautiful snowfall seemed significant in some way. Then I noticed she was holding the well-loved Brownie. What a perfect discovery on a special day. My mother, standing in snow 60 years ago, holding the camera that documented the family in the 1940s, and the snow falling outside my own window as I studied it.

It felt like a gift.

LSW

Heritage Photos of the Week

2010-02-07T19:33:00.000-08:00

For some time now I have been sorting photographs. I got tired of the cumbersome photo albums that lined the back of the closet and I was also concerned that they were old and probably not made of archival quality material. I acquired a stack of archival-safe photo storage boxes and began the tedious process of removing photos from sleeves and trying to decide how to categorize them so they would be easier to locate.

I spent this Sunday afternoon watching old I Love Lucy reruns and separating photos into piles - trips, pets, various family groups, and on and on. I was momentarily stumped when this photo came to the top of the pile. Where on earth had it been taken?

It only took a few moments for me to place the old building and then to remember the occasion upon which I had snapped the shot. I had not thought about that day in quite awhile. Mother and I had gone to visit my grandmother Hodge and had taken a notion to drive out in the country and visit the farm where my grandparents had lived before my grandfather's health had failed and forced them to move into town.

The old garage was the only building left on the place at the time and even that is gone now. We had driven in the gate and parked under a big tree that had been at the back of the house. We sat and talked and remembered the place as it had been. I found a big square red sandstone rock that my grandmother thought might have been part of the foundation of the fireplace. I decided then and there that I was going to take that rock as a souvenir and I wrestled it into the Bronco II that I was driving at the time. It lived several years at our previous residence and we made sure to move it along with our other possessions when we moved out to the piney woods. That rock now sits in the flower bed outside my bedroom window.

I have one old photo of the garage which dates a wee bit before my time, but it looks pretty much the way I remember it. The dog is Frisco and my grandmother can be seen just outside of a gate that I suspect was the entrance to the chicken pen.

I never had much reason to be in the garage, but I can remember watching my aunt digging for doodle bugs in the sandy floor. (I wasn't that keen on handling bugs myself.) There was usually a flat bed trailer parked beside the garage and she and I would spend idle minutes walking from one end of the trailer to the other and making it tilt back and forth on its axle. There was a water trailer parked behind the garage that caught rain water that we used to wash our hair.

I walked past the old building hundreds of times and remember very little about it, but it was part of the background of my grandparents' farm. When I saw the photo this afternoon and the recognition suddenly dawned, I had a rush of nostalgia. I miss that old place.

LSW

Heritage Photos of the Week

2010-01-01T07:22:00.000-08:00

The following photo was taken about 1917 on the front steps of the home of Tilman and Matilda (Dunavan) Wilcoxen in the area of Pierce, in Wharton County, Texas. Tilman and Matilda, my great-grandparents, are sitting in the center and are flanked by all their children.

Also seated are daughters Emma Gertrude (left) and Minnie Jane (right). Standing behind are (left to right) Elsie Golden "Goldie", Tilman Leo, my grandfather Arthur John, Nina Ellen (pronounced Nine-uh), Anderson Drexel "Bill", Mildred Ann and Orten Bryan. The family moved to Wharton County from Perrysville, Indiana, in March 1910. The story passed down in the family is that Tilman suffered from rhuematism and it was hoped that the warmer weather of Texas would improve his condition. Tilman and Matilda were the only ones of their families to make the move to Texas. Their parents and most of their brothers and sisters remained in the Danville, Illinois/Perrysville, Indiana area.

A few years ago I became aware that there was a portrait of Tilman and Matilda in the possession of my uncle Donald, who lives in Missouri. I wrote to ask him to take a photo of the picture. At the time I had no photos at all of the couple. He sent word that all attempts to photograph the portrait had resulted badly, due to the bubble glass throwing glares. They were attempting to figure out a way to get the photo copied.

Shortly afterward, a descendant of my grandfather's brother Orten made contact with me and had a few photos to share, including the one above.

Skip ahead a few years and my cousin sent word that her father and she had decided to transfer possession of the coveted portrait to me, the rabid family historian. It just had to be determined how to transport the photo from Missouri to Texas.

A couple of weeks ago I found in my voicemail an amazing message. A cousin connection on my aunt's side of the family had been to Missouri for a visit at Thanksgiving and had personally escorted the precious heirloom to Texas. Yesterday I made the 90-mile trip to receive one of the best Christmas presents I've ever had. I knew them immediately because it appears that the photo dates to the same day that the family group photo was taken.

It must have been quite the occasion that day. I also have separate photos of Tilman with his sons and Matilda with her daughters. I can just imagine the long session with the photographer as the entire family was photographed in various poses. Only a few short years later, daughter Gertrude would die in 1923. Son Orten was headed into the service. Son Bill would marry and move to California. The other brothers and sisters would marry and start their own families. On this day in 1917 or 1918, the Tilman Wilcoxen family was complete.

I cannot tell you how happy I am to add to my collection the official portrait of the couple themselves on that day. I heard it recently described by another family historian that the rare photo of an ancestor is the Holy Grail for genealogists. Yesterday I acquired one of those Holy Grails. Many thanks to my Uncle Donald, to my Aunt Syble and her nephew and his wife, and to my Cousin Amanda for their generosity.

LSW

Funny Bones

2009-08-10T11:16:00.001-07:00

All of us descendants of Horace and Lucy Hodge confess to having warped senses of humor. Outsiders frequently don't "get" us. Those of us on the inside, however, are fluent in the Hodge brand of humor and even go so far as to brag about being different and misunderstood.

So who do we blame for this oddness we all inherited? Was it the Hodge line or the Mobley line or the Mason line or the McAfee line? I suspect that a good portion of it came down the Hodge line, having become acquainted with some far flung Hodge cousins who seem to share a mild strain of the trait. My grandfather Horace was very good with the subtle dig that is a characteristic common to us all. However, my grandmother Lucy was no slouch when it came to quick retorts. That leads me to believe that our off-kilter sense of humor is the result of a special collision of genes from both sides.

I can remember quite early in my life being chided to let the kinfolks' digs roll off my back because "they wouldn't pick on you if they didn't like you". I confess there were times when I wished they didn't like me so much, but as the years passed I came to understand how it works.

Rule number 1 -No straight answers to questions. If you want to know something, find a roundabout way to get the information. A direct question is an invitation to having the wool pulled down over your eyes at the least or being led down a wandering path to a spot in the middle of nowhere as only one of several of the worst possibilities.

Rule number 2 - Never miss an opportunity to toss a smart aleck riposte when one in our midst slips and offers a careless opening to do so.

Rule number 3 - the defense rule - is constant vigilance so that you don't slip up and offer the opportunity for one of the quick-witted relatives to get in a verbal jab that is even cleverer than your own.

Corollary to rule number 3 is if you do slip up - join in the fun and make a jab at your own expense before someone else beats you to it.

Cardinal rule number 4 - don't make the mistake of letting all the folderol and foolishness hurt your feelings. None of the participants ever intends to hurt anyone's feelings (you will have no doubt whatsoever in your mind if they do) and if you make the mistake of taking something too personally, you stand the chance of being excluded from future bouts of family verbal volleyball. And NOBODY wants that.

Well nobody but possibly the poor souls who marry into the family and find themselves suddenly thrust into a lively bunch of smart mouths. We've all perfected our humor reflexes with years of practice and the fledgling members don't stand a chance of out-talking (that is, out-smarting off) us veterans of the Hodge humor wars. Some newcomers to the family circle eventually catch on and those that don't usually end up talking to each other in the far corner of the room and missing out on a heckuva lot of fun.

I feel rather fortunate that I not only grew up with a band of funny Hodge relatives, but I also have some very funny relatives on my paternal side as well. The humor on that side varies from conventional jokesters to an aunt who cracks me up with sotto voce observations of the hysterical sort and everyone else in the room wonders why I'm suddenly cackling my fool head off for no apparent reason. Well, everyone else who doesn't know my aunt. The relatives just give a knowing grin because they know I've just been the beneficiary of my aunt's extraordinary sense of humor.

My grandparents may have been dirt poor in money and possessions, but they spread an inheritance of laughter down to their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. It is an inheritance I value very much. Without the ability to laugh at life, it might be hard to find a reason to keep going when times get tough.

LSW

Uncle Fatty

2009-05-16T07:01:00.001-07:00

My grandmother called him "Uncle Fatty". The first time I heard her mention him was on a trip to the Old Red Rock Cemetery, where he is buried. She said he had died of dropsy and that his normal weight was 365 pounds.

Allen T. Frankum was the older brother of my great-great grandfather James Jefferson Frankum (see previous post). He and Jeff moved to Texas sometime between 1870 and 1880, settling in Bastrop County near Watterson. Allen and his wife Rebecca (Qualls) had married in Perry County, Tennessee, in 1872 and had one child, Ida. They owned a tract of land in Bastrop County and Allen registered a brand.

That is just about all I know about Allen. He died in 1906 and is buried in the Old Red Rock Cemetery near the children of his brother Jeff. His death certificate shows that he died of heart failure and nephritis at the age of 55.

While I was visiting with my aunt last weekend, she showed me an old photo album that had belonged to her grandmother. It was full of treasures that had been identified in the margins by my grandmother. One of the tiny tintypes was labeled "Uncle Fatty", and I knew immediately I was looking at a photo of Allen Frankum.

He doesn't look like he weighed quite 365 pounds, but he was definitely portly. I'm sure to a 5-year-old, which was the age of my grandmother when he died, he must have looked huge. He bears a striking resemblance to his younger brother Robert, so I have no doubt this is Allen.

One of the joys of genealogy is to suddenly find these little photographic treasures that lurk in the cedar chests and closets of relatives who may or may not know what they have. I knew Uncle Fatty from the description of my grandmother as she stood by his grave, remembering him. Now I have an even better idea what he looked like.

LSW

Heritage Photos of the Week

2009-04-25T17:44:00.001-07:00

I am constantly on the lookout for "new" old pictures of the ancestor variety. This past week cousin Jeannine sent me several photos in response to an email request I had sent her. I had discovered I did not have a photo of her husband's parents to include on the display board I was preparing for the upcoming reunion (see today's entry over on Woolgathering).

She not only provided me with exactly the photos I was hoping for, but included two bonus pictures that sent me into orbit. You just never know who has custody of the photographic treasures in the family. (A genealogist should always be super nice to all extended family - just in case.)

Here are new additions to the family archives.

James Jefferson Frankum

Sarah "Sallie" Elizabeth Busby Sanders Frankum

I am guessing these photos date to around 1900. Jeff died in 1912 at the age of 60. It looks to me like he would have been in his fifties here. I love getting a new perspective on my great-great grandparents.

Thanks, Jeannine!

LSW

Family Gathering

2009-04-12T15:07:00.000-07:00

While redoing one of my genealogy notebooks today, I ran across a photo I had forgotten about. Here is a cross-section of family members from my father's side of the family.

We will tackle the ones standing first. At far left is my great-grandmother Matilda Dunavan Wilcoxen. Next is great-aunt Linnie Frankum Brown holding her daughter Hazel. Under the floppy hat is my great-grandmother Amanda Eliza Lentz Frankum and next to her is her sister Fannie Lentz Rucker. The man is my great uncle Sam Frankum and at the end is my grandmother Ivy Frankum Wilcoxen.

Proceeding to the front row, from left, you may have to look closely to spot Marvin Brown, Linnie's son. Great aunt Ruby Frankum Johnston is next, partially blocked by some uncooperative leaves. Look closely again and you will see a small child standing just behind her. That would be Norma "Tootsie" Brown, daughter of Linnie. Sitting dead center in the flapper hat is great-aunt Ora Frankum Lamb and next to her is her youngest sister Virgie Frankum McVay. At the far right is Ellen Lurker, a cousin on the Wilcoxen side and one can only wonder how she came to be included in this group unless she was staying with her grandmother Matilda at the time.

I'm guessing this photo was taken sometime around 1928. All of Linnie's children are included, but none of Ivy's. Ivy actually looks like she might be expecting and, if she is, it would have to be Uncle Donald who was on his way. Probably only Linnie and Ivy were married at this point. Not that I'm suggesting anything, but do you suppose there is a reason why Ivy and her new mother-in-law are at opposite ends of the photo? (Actually I have no reason to suspect they did not get along famously. I just find it amusing.)

This is a wonderful photo. All of the surviving Frankum siblings are pictured, as well as their mother, their only maternal aunt, their two nieces and one nephew who had come along at this point, a mother-in-law and one niece by marriage. Quite an assortment.

LSW

Sad Shadows

2009-03-29T10:25:00.000-07:00

Over the course of the past two weeks I learned a rather unsettling story about a distant cousin. The process of uncovering the story began when the Family History Library made images of Texas Death Certificates to 1976 available on the Internet. I spent several days downloading death certificates to add to my files and didn't really have time to digest much of the information they contained due to the sheer volume of material that had suddenly been added to my files.

Then when I found myself in Kerrville on a brief vacation weekend, I realized I was within driving distance of Hondo. My great grandaunt Fannie Lentz Rucker had lived and died in Hondo, as had her two sons and some of her grandchildren. I knew I had a good opportunity at hand to visit their graves and obtain photographs of the tombstones. No telling when I would be anywhere near Hondo again.

I spent one evening in the hotel reviewing the notes I had for the family and checking the Medina County Genweb site for information about just who was buried in Hondo and suddenly realized there was a Rucker burial in the listing for a person I did not have in my files. I started rooting around the Internet, checking census records and re-visiting the Texas death records, trying to figure out where Elizabeth Edna Rucker fit into my Rucker family. About an hour later, I was stunned at what I had found and decided to put in a call to my aunt to see what she could tell me to confirm the picture I was forming in my mind.

To begin with, Aunt Fannie's youngest son, Jedie (pronounced J.D., according to my aunt) had died at the untimely age of 30 from a self-inflicted gunshot. I knew he had been married to a woman named Alma who had left him. They had a small daughter, Ruby, who remained in the custody of her father. Whether this was due to a court order or whether her mother had abandoned her is not yet known. What I had not known before was that Jedie had remarried to Elizabeth, a young woman several years his junior. At the time of his death, Jedie's occupation was "restaurant operator".

My aunt remembered stories she had heard from my grandmother who had lived briefly with Aunt Fannie shortly before Jedie's death. Jedie had served in World War I and had suffered from the effects of mustard gas. Apparently he was subject to bouts of despondency as one of the lasting effects. To complicate the situation, it seems that his little girl was snatched by her mother one day when she was in the care of her grandmother. (The mother moved the little girl out of state and the family never heard another word about her.) This loss of his daughter hit Jedie hard and, according to my aunt, he was never the same afterward.

At this point, it is not known just what all contributed to Jedie's decision to take his own life. My grandmother was alarmed enough about his state of mind to return home to her own family rather than continue to live with her Aunt and cousin. I have not yet located the record of his marriage to Elizabeth, so I don't yet know just how long they had been married when Jedie was found in his room on September 9, 1923 , dead from a gunshot to the head.

One newspaper notice has been located thus far, indicating that there may have been financial difficulties contributing to the factors of his post-war issues and the loss of his daughter.

This was certainly a sad story already, but then I found the second part of the story. Jedie's young wife Elizabeth took her own life a mere four months later, dying from a gunshot wound to the head. She was 21 years old. Was she despondent after the death of her husband? Were there other factors influencing her decision? I am still looking for information that might help in understanding her story.

Jedie and Elizabeth are buried next to each other in the Hondo Cemetery, sharing a plot with Aunt Fannie. One can only imagine the grief that was suffered by his and her families that year.

Aunt Fannie and her eldest son Louis survived Jedie, as did Jedie's daughter Ruby. One wonders if Ruby knew what had happened to her father. Did she even know her step-mother? How did the families cope with back to back losses of such catastrophic nature?

All questions that may never be answered. One thing we can assume is that this family suffered tremendously and that two young lives were lost before their time.

Jedie Moore Rucker

Jedie's and Elizabeth's graves in the background,
Aunt Fannie's grave in the foreground

Sometimes family research takes you down a totally unexpected path.

LSW

More Melons

2009-02-22T07:51:00.000-08:00

More evidence of my family's penchant for watermelon. I found this photo in one of my Great Aunt Fay's old photo albums.
Aunt Fay is the 3rd person from the right. I think the man on the far right may be my grandfather Horace Hodge, but I'm not 100% sure. It could be Aunt Fay's husband to be Tryon Branton, but I think he is more probably one of the men in dark pants. On the far left, I suspect that may be my great-grandmother Cora Hodge. No ideas on anybody else, so if anyone out there has a guess, let me know.

LSW

Heritage Photos of the Week

2009-02-21T12:09:00.000-08:00

Awhile back on Woolgathering, I posted a photo of little brother and myself pigging out on one of my grandfather's homegrown watermelons. I mentioned how there was always a stack of yummy watermelons under the tree just a few steps from the house.

Today I rediscovered a couple of photos that shows the watermelon pile under the tree and my mother in the act of enjoying one of them.

Before, and

After.

And they were free if you knew the right people. Every one of those would cost you at least $4.99 nowadays.

LSW

February 22, 1953

2009-02-17T18:18:00.000-08:00

This Sunday will mark the 56th anniversary of the date of my parents' marriage. They were two young people with very little money and they came from families who had very little money, so there was no 3-ring circus of a wedding like the bridezillas of today insist is their right. It was a modest ceremony in a small mission church in far north Austin where a preacher friend of my father's united them in marriage. I have two photos from that day. The first shows the happy couple.

Buddy & Nettie

The second shows the best man and the maid of honor.

Emmitte & Ruth Nell

No professional photographer attended to ensure there were pictures of the bride and groom with their parents. I feel lucky that someone took these two snapshots that day, or there would be no photographic record at all.

For years Mother's wedding dress, white with navy piping, hung in the closet. I don't think I ever tried it on, though I played dress up in the other dresses she kept in the dim recesses of her closet. I don't know when she disposed of it, but I guess she got tired of moving it from parsonage to parsonage and donated it to some clothing drive. The only heirlooms I have from that day are their wedding rings and the memory book with the registry of guests.

The wedding register is practically a family census. Aunts and cousins, brothers and sisters, old family friends and church friends.

About 14 months later, I came along.

LSW

A Centennial Plus 10 Memorial

2009-02-13T17:17:00.000-08:00

My Grandfather Wilcoxen was a more shadowy presence in my childhood. We did not see as much of him since they lived in East Texas and we were in Central Texas. We would make the trip to see my paternal grandparents two or three times a year, a drive of 6 to 7 hours each way. Most of my memories of those trips involve holiday festivities or antiquing forays around the area. My grandmother is ever present in the memories of those years, but I can't remember my grandfather taking an active part. He was there in the background, watching television or reading the paper, or tinkering with his latest building project.

I regret that I never got to know Grandpa Wilcoxen well. Even after an extended visit to their home when I was 9 years old and stayed with them for 6 weeks that summer, I returned home with very little additional knowledge of the man. He was a quiet man, with not much to say. Even when my brother went through a toy soldier phase and had left his troops strung across the floor and my grandfather stepped barefooted on their little plastic bodies, a pained grunt was his only comment. I never heard him raise his voice.

My grandparents in their courtin' days, in the mid 1920s.

The Arthur Wilcoxen family, in the early 1940s.

Arthur worked in the oil fields, an employee of Superior Oil Company. When his children were little, the family lived in Tomball, and in 1949 his job took him to Gladewater where he lived the remainder of his life.

Arthur in his "Hoss" hat.

The opportunity to get to know him better was lost, thanks to a stroke he suffered when I was in my teens. He was to live several years afterwards, but the stroke had damaged his body and his mind irreparably. He remembered me, but as a little girl. The chance to know me as a woman was not to be.

Me and Grandpa, about 1955.

I think my grandfather was a good person. He was kind to me, soft-spoken, went to church faithfully, and if he had a red-head's temper I never saw evidence of it. He is responsible for my "Yankee" half. Born in Perrysville, Indiana, 110 years ago yesterday, he moved to Texas with his parents when he was a young man.

Grandpa, I hardly knew you. But I miss you.

Arthur John Wilcoxen
February 12, 1899 - January 2, 1976

LSW

Two Grandpas

2009-02-13T05:16:00.001-08:00

Yesterday's memorial to my Grandfather Hodge should have been a double memorial to both my grandfathers. I was thinking that my Grandfather Wilcoxen's birthday was later in the month, but it was actually yesterday. February 12th marked the 110th anniversary of the birth of Arthur John Wilcoxen. I will rectify that slip up later today.

Until then, here are my grandfathers in a rare pose of the two of them together.

Arthur John Wilcoxen on the left

and Horace Greeley Hodge on the right.

LSW

A Centennial Memorial

2009-02-12T16:29:00.001-08:00

Much was made today of it being the 200th anniversary of Lincoln's birthday.

It suddenly occurred to me that there was a 100th anniversary to remember and that means much more to me.

Tomorrow, February 13th, marks 100 years since my grandfather was born.

Horace Hodge in his prime

To my mind he was just as fine a man as Lincoln. He was self-educated for the most part, just like Lincoln. He was honest to a fault, just like Lincoln.

He was a good father.

The Horace Hodge family, 1954

He worked long, hard hours in the fields, raising wonderful watermelons and peanuts. In my earliest years, I would see him mostly at meal times. This picture of him at the supper table represents my memories of him then.

In his later years, he was plagued by health problems and was usually in his chair reading, but always generous with a smile and full of gentle teasing of his citified granddaughter.

Horace Greeley Hodge

February 13, 1909 - April 25, 1981

One of the finest men it has ever been my privilege to know.

LSW

Doubling Up to Catch Up

2009-02-08T06:27:00.000-08:00

I'm still running behind thanks to the nasty head cold of 2009. Time to get back in the blogging saddle!

This post will serve as both Heritage Photo of the Week and Heirloom of the Week. I have spent a good deal of the past week dragging old photo albums out of the closets and drawers and re-inspecting their contents for interesting photos I have missed in previous explorations. It never fails that I will find pictures that interest me very much now when I totally overlooked them in the past.

Case in point. This photo was titled "Susie". Susie was undoubtedly a favored milk cow owned by my grandparents. From the photos that share the album page with this shot, I'm guessing this dates to the late 1940s. I've never paid much attention to this photo, but this week it suddenly leaped out and grabbed my attention.

To the right of Susie, sitting back against the fence, is a white jug. This time when I glanced at the photo, I saw the jug in the background. That same white jug now sits in my living room.

Mother had told me this white jug sat in the cowpens for a long time. At some point when I was much younger, she began to worry that it would get kicked by one of the cows and that would be the end of it, so she rescued it and brought it home. It was a wise move, because the lip of the jug already had two large chips and it was probably only a matter of time before it would have been further damaged.

There is no doubt that this jug was a product of the McDade Pottery Shop. It bears the distinctive stamped number to indicate its size, this one being a 5 gallon jug. Much of the McDade pottery bears this kind of stamp in a size that is unique to the output from that pottery shop.

Even back when Mother rescued the jug, McDade Pottery was already becoming collectible. She got to feeling guilty about having made off with the big white jug and returned it to her parents' home. Shortly afterwards, my uncle took possession and it resided with him for many years.

In one of those peculiar turns of event, a few years back my uncle and his second wife separated. She was concerned that some of the items remaining in her possession might be family heirlooms and invited me to come take a look and reclaim anything with attached family history. My aunt and I made the trip to her house and the first thing I saw when we arrived was the white jug I had heard so much about and that Mother had grieved for when she had returned it to the farm.

So the big white jug came home with me, to Mother's great delight. It now sits proudly in my living room, along with other pieces of McDade pottery, including the ugly brown crock in the photo. My family has a special connection to the McDade Pottery Shop, which I will explain in a future post. Every piece of McDade pottery I own is a treasured heirloom.

The big white jug is back home where it belongs. And the photo is one of those rare finds that proves the provenance. It did indeed sit in the cowpens, just as Mother told me.

LSW

Heritage Photo of the Week

2009-01-30T17:37:00.000-08:00

This was a cold week in Central Texas. Just north of us folks experienced ice and snow, but we were spared any of the nasty weather. We aren't in the clear yet - I've seen snow and ice the first part of February - but it looks like there's a good chance the school kids won't have to make up any ice days this year.

I think this picture must have been my first experience with snow. It was taken in the side yard of the old Manchaca Baptist Church about 1956-57. I was somewhere between 2 and 3 years old when Daddy and I posed in the snow. I don't believe this old church building is still standing. At the time we lived in Manchaca, it was several miles from Austin and was a small rural community. Manchaca has since been swallowed up by Austin and the Baptist Church has a grown into a large congregation.

I had no way of knowing that the strange, cold, fluffy white stuff would be something I would experience only a few times in my life.

LSW

Satisfaction

2009-01-29T11:22:00.000-08:00

In case you wonder where I went and don't read my primary blog, I am in temporary suspension of blogging, pending recovery from a nasty head cold. I'm getting better but still having stuffy nose issues which is hindering my ability to think coherently.

But in the midst of trial comes some rewards. Yesterday I received a big, fat and not very expensive book from the Coweta County (Georgia) Genealogical Society. I have at least two inches worth of cemetery information at my instant disposal now. I've perused this book many times when in Salt Lake and various other research libraries, but it's rare to find it. It's not so rare to find new people connected to my Mobley, Morgan and Dunkin lines in Coweta County. Until now I had no reference to check for burials when new folks came into my records.

I am six months into my new resolve to add to my personal reference library as frequently as I can, and where I can afford to do so. It gives me immense satisfaction to see these new additions take their places on the shelf.

My New Year's resolution was to join any and all historical and genealogical societies in the areas where I am researching. So far I am a member of:

The Illiana Historical Society (Vermillion County, Indiana, and Vermilion County, Illinois, home of the Wilcoxen, Hughes, Beauchamp, Niccum and Dunivan lines)
The Coweta County Genealogical Society (Coweta County, Georgia, home of the Mobley and Morgan lines)
The Limestone County Genealogical Society (Limestone County, Alabama, home of the Lentz line)
The Pike County Historical Society (Pike County, Indiana, home of the Mason line)
The Crittenden County Historical Society (Crittenden County, Kentucky, home of the Hodge line)

and in Texas:
The Bastrop County Historical Society
The Elgin Historical Society
The Austin Genealogical Society
The Caldwell County Historical Society

My mailbox runneth over with newsletters. It's a good genealogical thing.

LSW

Mary Ann Reese Hodge

2009-01-18T19:20:00.000-08:00

It's funny how you can go years thinking one thing about your ancestors and then suddenly be brought up short when you find records that give a totally different viewpoint. It's happened a few times over the 30-odd years I've been doing genealogy. A record turned up last year that has led me down one of these unexpected paths.

Mary Ann Reese was my great-great-great grandmother. She was the fourth child of Elisha and Frances (Burks) Reese and married rather late in life, in her mid-thirties, to John A. Hodge, a farmer and Baptist minister in western Kentucky. About a year after their marriage, their first child James Elisha was born. James was mentally deficient; it is unclear from the records found thus far how severely he was affected, but he remained at home with his parents until he was well into his thirties.

Mary's and John's next child, Robert, was born in 1845 and lived barely six months. Their third child, John, lived less than three months. Their last child, Henry born in 1848, was the only child to mature into a functional adult, marry and produce a line of descent. (John would have additional children with his second wife, but Mary's only descendants are through Henry.)

When Henry was about 5 years old, his parents legally separated but continued to live under the same roof. The terms of their separation are found in the Deed Records of Crittenden County, Kentucky. Mary had property of her own from her father's estate, managed her rents and crops and kept her business separate and apart from that of her husband.

John filed for divorce in May of 1854, and the first indication is given of the animosity that existed between the two of them. They had at that time been married 12 years and John claimed she had been tyrannical and overbearing during most of the period and had threatened to kill him and had abandoned his bed. The suit was dismissed a few months later and the two continued to share living quarters but not their lives.

The record is quiet for some years, but a glimmer of the continuing hostility is gleaned from a lawsuit filed against John and son Henry by G. R. Brown in 1870. Brown had purchased some land from John and Henry and Mary had refused to sign a document releasing her dower interest in the property. Brown relates her position that he could deal separately with her and as far as she was concerned if he occupied the land he would be obligated to pay her rent. It would be two years later before Mary finally released her dower rights.

In October of 1875, John again filed for divorce. The case file contains testimony that the year before an inquest of lunacy had determined Mary to be a lunatic and the court had ordered Mary confined in the Lunatic Asylum. This time there were multiple depositions included in the case file with neighbors attesting to the fact that Mary had long held an aversion and hatred toward her husband and had refused to live with him as a wife.

Again, the petition for divorce was dismissed.

A year later, in August of 1876, John again filed a petition for divorce. This time the file includes many depositions from neighbors and relatives describing the intense hatred Mary held for her husband, being not only verbally abusive but also physically attacking him. All agreed that she had always been hostile toward him, but that her mental state had deteriorated in the last years of their marriage. She no longer took proper care of their "idiot" son and regularly cursed her husband. In this case file we learn that the inquest of lunacy held in 1874 had also included her son James and that both of them had been adjudged to be lunatics and ordered confined to the Lunatic Asylum. A copy of the inquest was included in the case file as supporting evidence:

Inquest of Lunacy held for the trial of Polly Hodge and James E. Hodge before the Judge of the Crittenden County Court on the 11th day of April 1874, from the evidence we find that Jas. E. Hodge is an Idiot from his birth, age 32 years, has no Estate, also find Polly Hodge to be a lunatic, her age is 68 years. Her mind became impaired when quite young & has been growing worse ever since. She has a tract of land containing 75 acres, valued at $10 per acre, both have resided in the State from infancy. Polly Hodge is the mother of Jas. E. Hodge, his father is living. Neither one of them is capable of laboring for support in whole or in part....

Ordered that Poly Hodge be confined in the Lunatic Asylum at Hopkinsville for treatment and it appearing to the Court that James E. Hodge though an idiot cannot be safely kept by a committee within the county it is therefore further order that the said James E. Hodge be conveyed to the Lunatic Asylum at Hopkinsville and therein confined for treatment. It is further ordered that J. M. Gilbert be appointed a committee for the purpose of conveying said Poly & James E. Hodge to the Asylum at Hopkinsville and he may take such guard with him as is necessary for their safe conveyance to the asylum.

John was granted a divorce on his third try, went on to remarry and father several more children.

One of the witnesses states that her temperament had always been volatile and that her family had tried to warn John prior to their marriage. Many of the neighbors testified that they had had business dealings with her and had received advice from her through the years and considered her to be as normal as anyone else - except for the obvious dislike for her husband. One mentioned her extensive Bible knowledge, considering her even more knowledgeable than her preacher husband. She gave one man who had lost his wife advice he found valuable for the rearing of his children. (All of them agreed, however, that in the year or two prior to the lunacy inquest her mental state was deteriorating. She was beginning to fret about soldiers coming into her house and would ramble from subject to subject, not to mention the intensifying of her hostility toward John.)

I can't help but feel a little sorry for Mary. She may have been of a fragile mind to begin with. She may have been sexually inhibited and repulsed by the physical aspects of marriage and then her first son is born mentally retarded and her next two sons do not live more than a few months. If she was hyper-religious, which the extensive Bible knowledge may indicate, she may have come to believe that she was being punished for the sins of the flesh or that she had married an evil man and the loss of her children was his fault. Who knows what may have caused her to begin to slip over the edge of sanity.

As if things weren't bad enough, along comes the War Between the States and she is living in a border state, fearing the possible invasion of armies from both sides. If she had not already been a nervous wreck, now she had to worry about what might happen when the soldiers arrived.

I feel sorry for John, as well. Living with such hostility could not have been easy and he had lost two sons, too. The only "normal" son stayed away more than he was home. He was caught in a house with two mentally ill people who had to have made his life a living hell. One can't really blame him if he instigated the inquest of lunacy.

But then consider what a hell that Mary was placed in. Mental health institutions of the 19th century were hellish places to spend one's remaining years. Mary was about 68 years old when she was committed to the Western State Lunatic Asylum in Hopkinsville, Kentucky. In 1880 she is still living, enumerated in the census as an inmate of the asylum.

We know from another court case that James died at the Asylum in approximately 1879. Mary appears to have lived a few more years. We've not yet discovered the date of her death.

Poor Mary. Her life was one of misery and suffering. May she rest in peace.

LSW

Heirlooms of the Week

2009-01-12T06:56:00.001-08:00

We are getting to the end of the Mason relics. Now we have items that belonged to my great-grandmother Nettie McAfee Mason.

The square honey dish is antique pressed glass. The pattern was revived in later years by the Indiana Glass Company, who issued reproductions of the design in a rainbow of colors, still with the splayed feet. Ultimately the fragile splayed feet were replaced by functional, blunt feet by Tiara, who issued another set of colors which were sold at Home Interior parties several years back. Now, all versions are highly collectible. But I have the real thing. (I also have a large collection of the reproductions in light blue, cobalt blue, white, black, green, pink, amberina, amber, and frosted, along with two other honey dishes in a different pattern. Another collection that I didn't really intend to have. And I still need the red...)

The little honey dish was designed to hold a quarter comb of honey. All around are embossed images of bees and beehives. The Masons actually raised honey bees for a time, as evidenced by my grandmother Lucy Hodge's memoirs:

"We had about fifty stands of bees. Every fall was time to rob the bees and extract the honey from the cone. I was about 9 years old when I started helping with the bees. I worked the smoker for Dad. The smoker was a little box like thing that you put some wool rags in. If you had some wool it made the best smoke because it burned slow. Or just any kind of rags. It had a sort of spout on the front side and a back that was hinged on. The sides were something flexible. I don’t know what, but it didn’t burn. You would squeeze the back and the smoke came out the spout. When you went up to a hive you just raised the lid a tiny bit and blew the smoke in. (The hives were all two story.) You only took honey from the top story. You left the bottom for the bees to eat through the winter. Also the bottom half was where the baby bees were.

To start the hive you had this box about 2½ feet square, 1 foot high. You placed frames in it. They were made to fit about 1 inch apart to give room for the bees to build cone. They would always have one queen bee to the hive. As soon as they got cone built she would deposit one egg in each cell of a frame and the workers would seal it over. That is where the baby bees would hatch and eat their way out of the cell. The top story was the same size, bottomless box that set on top of the other box. The smoke would drive the bees down into the bottom half. Then Dad would lift out the frames from the hive and lay them in a wash tub and take them to the house. We had a long L-shaped back porch. That is where we extracted the honey. The extractor was a can shaped thing with a door on one side to put the frames in, 2 at a time. One fit on each side of a center piece that turned round and round when you turned a crank. That would sling all the honey out of the cone and you put the cone back in the hive for the bees to fill again.

There was a spigot on the side near the bottom of the can. We kept lard cans to catch the honey. In a good year when the mesquites bloomed good we would usually have about 50 gal. of honey to sell. But before it was ready to sell it had to be put in qt. jars. Just before Christmas, maybe in November, it was time to go to Austin to buy groceries for the winter. So late in the afternoon they would load the honey in front of the wagon on some hay. Had to take hay and corn along to feed the mules. Then the sacks of wool went on the back because he always got the wool sold first before he went up town to sell honey. Sold all the honey and bought all the groceries up and down Congress. "

The little honey dish had a lively life. Nettie Mason had promised the little dish to her namesake, my mother. After her death, Nettie's oldest daughter Ellen, who took charge of disposing of Nettie's effects and knowing full well that the honey dish was supposed to have gone to my mother, gave it instead to her own sister Annie Mae. (Aunt Ellen was something else. It may have been to spite her sister, my grandmother, and it may have just been that she felt mean that day.) It remained in Aunt Annie Mae's possession for 20-30 years. I can remember going to visit Aunt Annie Mae and Uncle Jim when I was probably about 12. They had moved to Rusk and we seldom saw them. On this occasion, I'm sure we made the slight detour to Rusk on our way to or from Gladewater to visit my paternal grandparents.

While we were there, Aunt Annie Mae brought out the little honey dish and gave it to Mother. She, too, had known her mother's wishes in the matter and the honey dish finally came into the possesion of the one for whom it had been intended. It was still in perfect condition, little splayed feet still intact.

The ring in the picture was Nettie Mason's wedding ring. My grandmother passed it to me when I began showing interest in family history. It is a paper-thin circle of gold, worn down from 40 plus years of wear. It resides in the little blue box inside the honey dish, alongside the leather pouch with the silver dollar discussed in an earlier post.

LSW

Heirloom of the Week

2009-01-05T18:46:00.000-08:00

I bet by this time you are wondering if my house is just a pile of assorted historical clutter.

Yes, it is. I like it that way. It's a sickness. I don't want to be cured.

Another Mason heirloom takes center stage this week. These leather leg protectors belonged to great-grandfather Burl Wilkes Mason.

I bet they saw a lot of action while he went about his work as foreman of the Trigg Ranch. At one time my grandmother also had his chaps, but those hung in the old barn and eventually either disintegrated or were disposed of when the barn was torn down.

I have in mind one of these days to turn my guest room into a showcase for the pieces that have come into my possession and that not only remind me of my ancestors, but also of the history of Texas.

LSW

Wagons Ho!

2009-01-04T08:13:00.001-08:00

For our Heritage Photos of the Week, here are some photos that show various of my kinfolks using horse-drawn wagons (and one buggy). Wonder how many miles to the hay-troughs they got?

This is Henry Thomas "Jack" Mason, my grandmother Lucy's half-brother. She mentions him in her memoirs:

"Just before Christmas, maybe in November, it was time to go to Austin to buy groceries for the winter. So late in the afternoon they would load the honey in front of the wagon on some hay. Had to take hay and corn along to feed the mules. Then the sacks of wool went on the back because he always got the wool sold first before he went up town to sell honey. Sold all the honey and bought all the groceries up and down Congress.

My oldest brother would drive the wagon. He would leave before day light. Then Mother, Dad and me and one sister would go up in the buggy. It took the first day to sell honey and wool. Dad and brother would spend the night in the wagon yard. It was down near the river. Mother and girls would spend the night in a “boarding house”. Early next morning they would buy groceries and maybe a few clothes and the Christmas shopping. It took most of the day but we would start for home. The buggy was not as slow as the wagon and sometimes it would be next morning before the wagon got home. 22 miles. "

Next we have Robert Frankum, driving a smart buggy. Robert was the brother of my great-great-grandfather James Jefferson Frankum.

This was a scene at the cotton gin in Brady, Texas, taken about 1908. Some of these wagons are being driven by Frankum men and their in-laws. I can't tell you who is who, but among those pictured are Robert Frankum (the same as in the previous photo), James Jefferson Frankum (my gg-grandfather), Charlie, Jim and Jack Frankum (three of Jeff's sons), John Peterson (Robert's son-in-law), Tom Qualls (an inlaw of Robert's) and Adolph Hefner (who I have no idea how he fits into the family group and is probably just a friend).

This final photo was found in the collection I acquired from my Aunt Fay Hodge's estate. I am guessing this is one of the Mobley sons.

Fabulous pictures that I feel lucky to have in my possession.

LSW

Heritage Photos of the Week

2008-12-30T05:59:00.000-08:00

I am fortunate that my grandmother, Ivy Frankum Wilcoxen, gave me quite a few photographs of herself as a young woman. My favorite is the first shown. I'm not sure of the year it was taken. Grandma had asked me what photo of her I would like to have in a larger print and was surprised when I asked for this one. She said the beads were not straight. But I think she is so pretty in this photo.

At Burr, Texas, 1918. (Ivy, far left)

With friends (Ivy, far right) at Medina dam, 1921.

The hairstyle was called "dog-ears", 1922.

December 1922

1927

1981

Ivy Frankum Wilcoxen

October 8, 1901 - December 3, 1994

LSW

Heirloom of the Week

2008-12-25T13:56:00.001-08:00

My grandma Lucy Hodge made the best cornbread dressing. It has passed down the line to all her daughters and sons and now to my generation. One of the more cherished of the family heirlooms:

Hodge Family Cornbread Dressing

Ingredients:
· 1 recipe cornbread (a skillet full)
· 1 small can biscuits
· 1-2 bunches green onions, with tops, sliced
· 2-3 ribs celery, chopped
· ½ - 1 green bell pepper, chopped (optional)
· 2-3 hard boiled eggs, chopped (optional)
· Sage, salt and pepper to taste

Directions:
Prepare breads ahead of time. A 10-inch skillet full of cornbread is about right, plus 5-6 biscuits. Crumble breads into a large bowl.

Chop the green onions (you may add a little regular onion, if desired), celery and green pepper. You should have approximately 1 cup each. You may add the vegetables directly to the bread mixture, or you may prefer to cook the vegetables briefly in boiling water until they begin to soften. Drain the water before adding to the breads. If you wish, chop and add some boiled eggs.

To season the mixture, add about 2 teaspoons salt, ½ teaspoon black pepper and 2 to 3 teaspoons sage. (When it comes to sage, the feeling at our house is the more the merrier—about ½ of a standard spice bottle is about right for us.) Mix well.

Add chicken broth until the mixture is well moistened, but not soupy. (Think mud pie consistency.) It usually takes 2-3 cans or 4-5 cups of freshly made broth. Pour into a lightly greased casserole dish and bake at 350 degrees for about 1 hour, until the dressing is firm and slightly browned.

Some folks like to add the chopped, cooked giblets. I’m not one of them, but if you insist, go ahead. Just warn me, if you do.

This is the official family cornbread dressing recipe, created by my grandmother. For many years we accommodated the non-sage eating in-laws with a separate pan without that spice, but we’ve decided that if you want to be in this family, you had better learn to love sage. The giblets in/giblets out battle continues to rage.

LSW

Unraveling the Snarl

2008-12-22T15:26:00.001-08:00

If you have ever knitted or crocheted, you have at some point encountered a snarl of yarn that has to be untangled before you can proceed. Some snarls are so bad you finally end up cutting the thread and reconnecting, but it is always the best policy to unravel the tangle if at all possible.

The family thread can get snarled from time to time. These snarls are a lot more fun to detangle, but sometimes just as tough.

The first and best-known tangle in the family tree involves the McAfees and Masons. Great-grandfather Burl Mason was first married to Pinkey Fariss (remember that name). They had several children, one of which was daughter Susie Mason. After Pinkey died, Burl met Nettie McAfee, a young widow with two sons. Nettie was the only daughter of Albert McAfee and his first wife Johney Elizabeth Underwood. When Johney died, he left Nettie in the temporary care of a neighborhood girl named Mary Brock. Albert ultimately married Mary and they had another batch of kids, one of which was son Albert Henry.

Albert Henry married Susie Mason and they had several kids. Meanwhile, Burl and Nettie had children together, one of which was my grandmother Lucy. Another was daughter Annie Mae, who married Jim Byrum (remember that name).

Bottom line for this little family tree snarl was that Lucy was the half-1st cousin and the half-aunt of the children of Albert Jr. and Susie McAfee. (To me they are half-1st cousins once removed and also half-2nd cousins once removed.)

We started with the easy one, believe it or not. Now, let's look at a real snarl, the kind that if you were knitting would probably have to be cut.

Burl's first wife was Pinkey Fariss. Pinkey had several siblings, including Mary B. Fariss and Jane C. Fariss.

Burl had a brother John Mason and a sister Hulda Mason, who married to William Ashley.

John Mason married Mary E. Adkins, who was the daughter of Mary B. Fariss and her first husband L. C. (or D. C.) Adkins.

Hulda Mason Ashley died and her widower William Ashley married Mary B. Fariss Adkins.

Jane C. Fariss, sister to Pinkey and Mary, married 5 times and one husband was named Crockett. With him she had daughter Nora. Jane then remarried to J. C. Byrum. Nora had a son named Jim (at this point I am not clear on who the father is), who ended up being raised by his grandmother Jane, who ultimately married a man named Walling. The best I can tell, when grandson Jim went to live with Jane, he took the name of her then husband and became Jim Byrum. (In one census Jim is listed with the last name of Crockett, which was Nora's maiden name, so I'm guessing she was not married when she had Jim.) Jim Byrum married Annie Mae Mason, as mentioned above.

Ok, now where are we after all this? Actually it's a tangle of lines marrying into lines that are related, but the blood relationship is fairly simple.

Jim Byrum, my grand-uncle by virtue of marriage to my grandaunt Annie Mae Mason Byrum, was the grand-nephew of Burl Mason's first wife, but had no blood relationship to the Masons, except as second cousin to the children of Albert Jr. and Susie Mason by virtue of a shared set of great-grandparents in the Fariss line. Burl Mason would have had the dual relationship to Jim as father-in-law and grand-uncle by marriage to Pinkie Fariss who was sister to Jim's grandmother.

The fun of this particular snarl is plotting all the names on a sheet of paper and then connecting the marriages with lines and seeing them loop around the various generations. Whatever else you can say about it, the Fariss folks got around.

One little additional point of interest with this little snarl of relationships is that three of the Fariss connections met a grisly death in January 1899. Pinkey Fariss Mason's brothers James and Cass and William Ashley, the widower of Hulda Mason Ashley and by that time Pinkey's brother-in-law, were killed by a train near Smithville. They were at a railroad crossing in a wagon, when apparently the horses spooked and ran into the train. All three men and the horses died in the accident.

Researching can lead you down paths you never expected. I am not related to the Fariss family by blood, but their history is so intertwined with that of my bloodline, I feel they belong in my files.

LSW

P.S. One other Fariss complication that has not yet been solved involves my Mobley line, where great-grandaunt Sallie Mobley married widower Tom Fariss who had kids and then they had kids together. I don't yet know whether Tom Fariss is related to the other Farisses that connect to the Masons, but the Mobleys lived out in the Oak Hill area of Bastrop County as did Jane C. Farris. I'm betting that sooner or later I will find yet another non-blood connection to the Fariss line.

Heirloom of the Week

2008-12-20T15:54:00.000-08:00

My mind is still with Burl Wilkes Mason this week. I hope I have the story about this heirloom correct. This little leather pouch, containing a 1900 Liberty Silver Dollar, was found in Burl's pocket at the time of his death.

It now resides in the pressed glass honey dish that belonged to his wife Nettie, which itself holds an honored place in my china cabinet.

LSW

Heritage Photo of the Week

2008-12-16T16:26:00.001-08:00

I've been monitoring a blog called "The Pioneer Woman" (which I discovered through the recommendation of my aunt) and today she posted a slew of photos of dour women and ended up with several of sisters. It reminded me of one in my collection.

Here is two versions of the same photo of sisters Sallie and Cora Mobley. I don't really know when it was taken, but I suspect it was before either of them was married, which would put the time frame about 1890 or so.

Sallie is on the left and Cora is on the right. Cora is my great-grandmother who married Elmo Elisha Hodge and had Horace and Horace married Lucy and had Nettie and Nettie married Norman and had me.

Let this be a lesson to anyone who is contemplating sitting for a portrait. Wear dark colors that will show up well against any background. Poor Cora is so washed out she looks ghostly. Even playing with the contrast and brightness didn't help bring her back to life.

It did help to crop the photo and concentrate on her face. Such big, sad eyes. Such a grim mouth. And this was probably before life got tough and she became a young widow with two young children to feed and clothe.

LSW

Heritage Photo Addendum

2008-12-08T18:02:00.000-08:00

For some reason, I neglected to include a photo of Burl Wilkes Mason in the previous post, so let me correct that error.

Burl Mason, right, and his brother-in-law Jessie McAfee, left

Burl spent the majority of his adult life working as the foreman of the Trigg Ranch near Red Rock. He's probably the closest thing to a real cowboy in the family tree.

LSW

Heritage Photo of the Week

2008-12-04T18:37:00.000-08:00

Beside the road on Highway 21, just south of the intersection with FM812, this stately tree stood just across from the gate that led down to the house where my great-grandparents, Burl and Nettie Mason raised their family. I'm not sure the tree is still standing because a few years back a new overpass was added to reduce the danger of that particular intersection. The landscape was changed enough that I'm not sure the tree survived the construction.

This is the tree where my great-grandfather Burl Mason was found hanging on August 20, 1925. For years afterward it was possible to see the scars where his spurs had scraped against the tree as he hung there.

The official verdict was death by suicide. Perhaps. His daughter and widow did not believe that and always suspected he had been murdered. There was at least one and possibly two motives for murder that should have been explored. Perhaps they were and no evidence was uncovered. I have yet to locate the record of the inquest, but I hope to find it someday and see what kind of investigation took place.

I wish the tree could talk. It knew the truth.

LSW

Heirloom of the Week

2008-11-27T16:05:00.000-08:00

Continuing the inventory of odd heirlooms, this week we showcase the only two personal items I inherited that belonged to my great-grandfather Elmo Elisha Hodge. These are glass containers - one with his toothbrushes still inside and the other that would have held his tooth powder. Remarkable that they survived down through the years and ended up in my care.

The Hodge line has been much on my mind these past couple of weeks as new information is coming in right and left recently. The more I find out about my Hodge ancestors, the more they intrigue me.

Elmo lived only to see his 24th year. He died while enlisted in the Navy under an assumed name. After his death, somehow his true identity was determined and his belongings were returned to his widow Cora, from whom he had been estranged. Among the items returned was Elmo's diary, which Cora burned.

I don't know that I will ever be able to forgive her that transgression. I've always assumed that he had been less than kind to her in its pages and if I had been in her shoes, I might have felt like destroying it was the right thing to do.

But - how I would have loved to know what he had to say about his father's shenanigans. How I would have loved to know what he had to say about his sisters - Molly who died at the tender age of 15 and Rosa, the baby of the family. How I would have loved to know what he thought about his Huddleston grandparents.

And perhaps he said nothing about any of them. But how I would have loved to read his words on any subject and to study his handwriting for character traits. The tragedy of his early death kept his two children from ever knowing the man who was their father. The burning of the diary robbed them of the chance to know his thoughts.

A treasure was lost in that decision.

LSW

Heritage Photo of the Week

2008-11-23T20:17:00.001-08:00

I feel guilty that I've neglected the genealogy blog the last few weeks. Part of my neglect has to do with some sudden activity in the Hodge line that is distracting me. New information is coming in from Kentucky that I hope to be sharing soon. Let's just say that the old black sheep ancestor, Dr. Henry Hodge, is getting blacker and blacker. Somehow it is more fun to chase after the rotten ancestors than it is to chase the good ones.

So to hold my place, I offer the heritage photo of the week.

I'm at a bit of a loss how to describe this photo of my great-grandfather Tilman Wilcoxen. I acquired the photo from cousin Carolyn Wilcoxen who said it appeared in the newspaper. I hope to someday run down a copy of that newspaper to find out what in the heck is going on here.

I assume the photo was taken somewhere in the Wharton area, though it could well have been taken in Indiana before the family moved to Texas.

All I can say is it definitely inspires the caption "Grandpa, what big ears you have!".

LSW

Heritage Photo of the Week

2008-11-10T18:04:00.000-08:00

Cool cars have been on my mind recently. I think this one gives my new Prius a little bit of a run for its money in the matter of **COOL**.

This must have been taken in the 1930s. Great-aunt Annie Mae Mason Byrum stands in front of what I guess you could term a Tin Lizzie.

I would appreciate knowing what kind of car this is, so if anyone out there knows, please clue me in via a comment.

LSW

Heritage Photos of the Week

2008-11-01T05:49:00.001-07:00

Several years back a distant Mobley cousin sent me a copy of the following photo. She said that no one in her family knew for sure who he was, but they speculated that he might be Joseph Sheppard Mobley. At the time I only had one photo of Joseph, a very bad one, and there was indeed some distinct similarities between the men in the two photographs, so I agreed that it was probably him.

It only goes to show that you should study photographs more closely. Last year I obtained a photo album that had belonged to Joseph's wife and there was an original tintype of the photo mounted on the second page of the album.

Next to it was this original tintype of a woman I had never seen before.

The two photos were obviously made at the same time and in the same place. I knew for a fact that the woman was not Joseph's wife, because I had numerous photos of Mary Caroline Morgan Mobley and this woman looked nothing like her.

The next clue that pointed to the true identities of this couple was to be found on the first page of the album. Two photographs, mounted side by side, were of another couple that I recognized, John and Amanda (Rice) Morgan. John and Amanda were the parents of Mary Caroline and it made perfect sense that they would take the first page place of honor in her photo album.

It dawned on me then that the clothing worn by the couple in the tintypes was of the same period to match the generation of John and Amanda. That, and the location of the photos on the second page of the family album, and the physical resemblance of the man to the one photo I had for Joseph told me that what I had here were photos of Joseph's parents.

So far as I know, these are the only photos in existance of Reason/Rezin and Lucretia (Dunkin) Mobley, who lived in Newnan, Coweta County, Georgia. The photos were probably taken shortly before the start of the Civil War, when the couple would have been in their forties. Their only daughter did not survive her teens. Three of their five sons would be lost in the war. Two sons would survive, Hezekiah and Joseph, and would move this branch of the Mobleys west to Texas.

LSW

Heirloom of the Week

2008-10-25T07:40:00.000-07:00

It is the sole survivor of a set of stemware brought to Texas from Georgia in 1872.

A lone crystal goblet that once belonged to Mary Caroline Mobley is spending its elder years in the corner of my china cabinet. It has not survived unscathed. There is a large chip in its foot.

The Joseph Mobley family left Georgia and moved to Texas in 1872. Their home had been Coweta County, not far from Atlanta. Joseph's brother Hezekiah lived just north of there in Carroll County and returned at the end of the Civil War to find his farm in tatters. I assume that Joseph also returned to a home that had been looted by soldiers. Hezekiah would remain a few more years, until after the death of their father Rezen, and then would join his brother Joseph in starting a new life in Bastrop County, Texas.

The Mobley family made most of the journey by train, leaving from either Atlanta or Savannah and traveling to New Orleans. At New Orleans they traveled by boat to Galveston and then by train to Paige.

Joseph brought with him a bushel of peach seeds, with which he started a peach orchard on their new farm. One wonders if there are descendants of those peach trees still growing on that farm land or if the orchard was destroyed when Camp Swift was formed. The land that belonged to Joseph and his son George was purchased by the government in the World War II years and became part of that installation.

You can imagine peach seeds making the long journey without problems. I can't help wondering how Mary Caroline managed to bring the more elegant comforts of home, like a set of crystal stemware, and have any of them survive the trip. I wonder if they were carefully packed among clothing in a trunk. Or maybe they weren't all that special to her and were casually packed in dish barrels and many of the pieces were broken when they arrived.

While I love antique furniture and treasure the pieces in my possession, it is these little objects that I know were once touched and used by my ancestors that are the more treasured in my collection.

A family upset by the ravages of war makes a new home in a rough land. Brothers of both Joseph and Mary Caroline had been lost to the war. Mary Caroline's first husband was killed and shortly afterward her only child with him also perished. It is not hard to imagine why they wanted to leave the familiar and strike out for a new life.

A little crystal goblet in the corner of the china cabinet whispers their story to me.

LSW

Heritage Photos of the Week

2008-10-19T14:37:00.000-07:00

These three photos were taken in April 1938. I am particularly fond of them. It shows a man proudly standing with his family - first with his children, then with his sons- and daughter-in-law, and finally with his wife. I'm sure the photos were taken somewhere near Wharton, Texas.

William Henry Frankum, far left, with his children from left to right:

Ivy Wilcoxen, Virgie McVay, Sam Frankum,

Ora Lamb, Ruby Johnston and Linnie Brown.

William Henry Frankum with his kids-in-law, left to right:
Shorty Lamb, Arthur Wilcoxen, Herman Brown,
Bill Johnston, and Nancy Cox Frankum.

William Henry Frankum and his second wife Ada.

The only one missing here is son-in-law Lee McVay. Wonder where he was that day?

LSW

Heirloom of the Week

2008-10-15T14:40:00.000-07:00

This item will strike a chord of memory with any one in the Hodge family. This little blackboard has been around, I'm guessing, almost 50 years. It started off as a Christmas present to my aunt, who is a mere 3 years older than me. It became the family's instant messaging tool. Back before Blackberries and the Internet, when you arrived at my grandparents' house and they weren't at home, you knew to go check the blackboard. My grandmother would almost always have left a note there to let whoever arrived know where they could be found. "At the peanut field" or "Gone to town".

It's fairly beat up nowadays and it almost made the trash heap when the family was clearing out the house after my grandmother died. I couldn't let this vital piece of Hodge family history go in the dumpster, so I rescued it, brought it home and hung it in my utility room where it remains. Every so often I'm tempted to write a message to let whoever comes in know where I've gone.

LSW

Heritage Photo of the Week

2008-10-11T08:45:00.001-07:00

This week's photo came to me from my late cousin Beulah McAfee Martin. We were double cousins, actually. Her grandparents, Albert and Mary (Brock) McAfee, the couple on the left, had a child they named Albert Henry. Albert Sr's daughter Nettie by his first wife Johney Elizabeth married Burl Mason. Burl was a widower with several children, one of whom was daughter Susie.

Albert Jr. and Susie married, which made their children the half-nieces of my grandmother Lucy and also her half-first cousins. (One of those children was Beulah.) It has made for quite a tangle of relationships in my Mason and McAfee lines.

The two young people on the right are Albert's and Mary's children Florence and Jessie. The photo is presumed to have been taken at their home in Grassyville, Texas. I estimate the time period to be between 1900 and 1906.

I love this snapshot of family life at the turn of the century. I love the vine covering the porch post. I love the ladder leaning against the side of the house. I love the delapidated shakes on the roof. I love the picket gate, with the shaped peak. This picture is of a real family from a century ago.

This was my great-great-grandfather who fought during the Indian Wars in Kansas with Custer's 7th Cavalry. (More about that in a future post.) This was my great-granduncle Jessie who lived through World War I, only to die from typhoid shortly after he returned home. This was my great-great-step-grandmother who took care of my great-grandmother Nettie when her mother died from a miscarriage. I don't yet have a mental image for great-grandaunt Florence, but I hope one of her family will surface one day to tell me a little of her life story.

The McAfees. My claim to a Scots bloodline.

LSW

Heirloom of the Week

2008-10-09T05:49:00.000-07:00

On to a new regular feature - Family Heirloom of the Week.

Let's start with one of the more weird in my collection of heirlooms and that is saying a lot. I have quite a few odd items in my family archives.

This heirloom is affectionately known as the Ghost Rock. It has been around as long as I can remember and when I was a child, its facial characteristics freaked me out a bit. It currently resides on a table in my family room and it occurred to me the other day that I wasn't sure where we had acquired it.

When I asked Mother, she immediately replied that my grandparents had plowed it up in the peanut field, but could not remember when. She said we had taken possession of it sometime during the Smiley years and told a story about it having been a mouse condo at one point. The "eyes" were a convenient entry and exit point for the small critters into the hollow interior.

The question remains whether this rock is a natural formation or if it was fashioned by human intervention. Was it used by an Indian medicine man, perhaps? Or did it just quietly form deep in the earth and coincidentally take on the appearance of a face over the years?

This is the kind of heirloom that is hard to categorize. I have two additional rocks with family significance, but they live outside due to their size. It's a little hard to come up with the proper archival methods for preservation of these examples of family history.

But as long as I'm around, they will be honored parts of my home.

LSW

Family Legacy

2008-10-04T19:18:00.000-07:00

Today I attended the annual Cattlemen for Cancer Research auction in Hills Prairie. Part of the day's festivities includes a silent auction. One of the items today was a plaque that gave a definition of the word "legacy". I liked the sentiment very much and considered putting in a bid, but it was already a popular item and had reached a price I wasn't willing to try to beat. But, I made a point to snap a photo so I wouldn't forget the thought.

Before I settled on the name "Building Blocks", this blog was initially entitled "Family Legacy". This definition expresses the idea very well.

Legacy
The cumulative effects of an individual's life
which have the potential to influence future generations,
manifested in those beliefs, attitudes, philosophies, talents, and traits
that were impactful enough during the course of a lifetime to
have continuing sway

Genealogy is all about legacy.

LSW

Four Older Girls

2008-10-03T18:48:00.001-07:00

Over on Woolgathering today I wrote about my Aunt O and her love of bright colors. This is the same Ora who was the baby in the photo posted here a couple of days ago. I remembered I had a photo that showed Aunt O in one of her signature pink outfits.

Sisters (left to right) Ruby, Ivy, Virgie and Ora

I believe the occasion of this photo was my grandmother Ivy's 80th or 85th birthday. I never got to know my Aunt Virgie or Aunt Linnie very well. I'm not sure why. They and their brother Sam lived down close to the Texas coast and we just didn't go that way very often. We would occasionally run into Uncle Sam's family when we were visiting my grandparents, so I did get to know him a little.

But Aunt Ruby and Aunt O were very familiar to me. They both lived in Austin and were especially close to my father, so we saw them often. I loved them both very much and though it's been several years since we lost them, I still miss them. I adored Aunt Ruby, but I always had a special fondness for Aunt O. She and I loved those bright colors.

I'm so glad she wore pink the day of this picture. Whenever I think of her, I always imagine her in pink.

LSW

Heritage Photo of the Week

2008-09-30T17:44:00.001-07:00

This photo probably dates to just after the Civil War. Brothers Samuel Jarrett Lentz, left, and Gabriel Moore Lentz, right, were probably photographed near Bastrop or Austin, Texas. The brothers were born in Limestone County, Alabama, to parents Samuel and Barbara (Jackson) Lentz. They and a third brother, Ashley Rozelle Lentz, moved to Texas in the 1850s. Their uncle, Jacob Lentz, was a Stephen F. Austin colonist who received a league of land in Bastrop County from the Mexican government in 1832. Gabe would remain in the Red Rock area and marry Jacob's daughter Amanda. Ashley also settled in the Red Rock area, and Sam eventually moved to Austin.

But don't they look more like mountain men than Texas farmers?

LSW

Three Little Girls Are We

2008-09-29T18:29:00.001-07:00

The year: 1907
The place: Grueter & Tannenberger Photographers in Lockhart, Texas
The subject: Three Sisters
My grandmother Ivy Frankum, the eldest, stands at left. The next oldest child in the family, sister Linnie, stands at right. Between them is baby sister Ora. On that day in 1907, sisters Ruby and Virgie and brother Sam were just distant twinkles in their daddy's eye.

LSW

Tom Qualls

2008-09-26T14:50:00.000-07:00

Who was Tom Qualls and how did he fit into the family? It's still a bit of a mystery that I hope someday to solve, even though I doubt he is a blood relative. Nevertheless, he was closely tied to the Frankum family.

Tom Qualls, left, and Robert Frankum, right

Tom's parents have not yet been determined. The first record found for him is the 1910 federal census of McCulloch County, Texas. He is listed as 32 years old and a boarder in the home of Robert and Iby Frankum. Family legend has it that Tom, also known as "Tom Togger", was the nephew of Rebecca Qualls Frankum, Robert's sister-in-law. He is listed as born in Texas with no occupation.

Next we find a WWI draft registration for Tom Brown Qualls, living in Glen Flora, Wharton County, Texas, dated September 12, 1918. His age is 43 years, birthdate of June 29, 1875, working for a Geo. Slaughter in farming. He is listed as medium height, slender build, gray eyes and brown hair. He gives as his nearest relative Mrs. Rebecka Frankum, which lends some credence to the family stories.

In 1920, Tom is still in Wharton County and still boarding in the home of Robert Frankum. He is 46 years old and a laborer. By 1930, Tom had relocated with Robert and Ebbie Frankum to Falls County, in or near Marlin. He is 54 years old and his occupation is farm labor.

The last record found for Tom is his death certificate showing the date of death as February 2, 1938, cause of death tuberculosis of the lungs.

By the time of Tom's death, Robert Frankum had died (in 1932) and Ebbie Frankum was a year away from her own death. The informant for his death certificate had no information regarding Tom's birth or parentage. No physician was attending him. The certificate is signed by a Justice of the Peace and the body was buried by Falls County.

One can only speculate about this shadowy presence in the Frankum family. I hope someday to have a clearer picture of Tom Brown Qualls. He apparently never married, as every document found shows him to be single. He lived for 30 or more years in the home of Robert Frankum. He apparently died a pauper, with no one to claim his body for burial.

Was he always affected by tuberculosis and a man of weakened constitution? Was he mentally impaired, rendering him unable to strike out on his own and establish his own family and home?

Who was Tom Brown "Tom Togger" Qualls? Perhaps we will never know. One thing we do know - Robert Frankum took him into his home and made him a member of the family.

LSW

Heritage Photo of the Week

2008-09-24T15:58:00.000-07:00

I've been neglecting the genealogy blog lately, so I've decided to fill in between the long posts with short items. Here is the first of what should become a regular "Heritage Photo of the Week". It is one that is very familiar to the Wilcoxen side of the family.

On the far left is Matilda Ellen Dunavan Wilcoxen holding her grandson Donald Moore Wilcoxen. On the far right is Donald's other grandmother, Amanda Eliza Lentz Frankum. In the middle is Amanda's mother-in-law and Donald's great-grandmother, Sarah Elizabeth Busby Frankum. I estimate the photo was made about 1929 and in all probability the location was Glen Flora, Texas. (It's too bad they didn't squeeze in one of the parents, which would have made this a four-generation photo.)

LSW

Mary Ann Mobley Christian

2008-09-21T08:43:00.000-07:00

The Mobley family has been much on my mind lately. In preparation for the Mobley-Turnipseed Reunion I attended yesterday, I spent the last week or so reorganizing and sprucing up my Mobley notebooks so I could take them along.

One of the more dramatic Mobley family stories concerns Mary Ann Mobley Christian, eldest daughter of Hezekiah Madison and Sarah Jane (Jones) Mobley. Mary Ann was born January 15, 1860, in Georgia. In Carroll County, Georgia, in 1879, she married Micajah Jesse "Cage" Christian. The couple moved to Bastrop County, Texas, in 1881 and settled in the Oak Hill community near McDade. Mary Ann was 95 years old when she died in a nursing home in Elgin in 1955. She and Cage never had children.

Mary Ann was widowed after 11 years of marriage when her husband Cage was murdered before her eyes, shot down by a group of men who confronted the couple as they were riding horseback near McDade, Mary Ann on the saddle behind her husband. The men ordered Cage to step down from the horse and then shot him in cold blood.

There are conflicting stories about what prompted this act of violence. Some say it was vigilantes, some say Cage was involved with the lawless crowd that operated in and around McDade. I prefer to believe the version that Mary Ann gave to the newspaper when they interviewed her in her later years. The article refers to her as "Aunt Mary", but family oral history says she was called "Aunt MeAnn" within the family.

Mary Ann Mobley & husband

Micajah Jesse Christian

probably a wedding portrait

ELGIN'S "AUNT MARY"

By Winnie McCall Burns, Chronicle Correspondent
--published in the Houston Chronicle Magazine, August 5, 1951

In former years, when people reached the age of three score and 10, the popular belief was that they were supposed to fold their arms and silently fade away. But not so with Mrs. Mary Mobley Christian of Elgin, who now is 91.

She not only has been a member of the Baptist Church for 74 years, but she has gone through the most turbulent period in the history of this section.

Born in Georgia, she moved into Bastrop County in the days when the frontier was being moved rapidly westward and when one lived longest by talking the least.

She was married in 1879 to Micaja Jesse Christian. Four years later, they, and the Mobley family, came to Texas and settled near Oak Hill, south of McDade.

McDade at that time was a thriving little town on the newly-built Houston and Texas Central Railroad. As the M.-K.-T. was not built through Elgin (10 miles to the west), Bastrop, Smithville, La Grange and on into Houston until 1886, McDade was the shipping point for the territory south of Elgin.

It had many stores, saloons, gambling houses and eventually developed a lawless element that ruled the community.

At about the time "Aunt Mary" and her husband had settled in their new home, a dance was given at the home of one Pat Erhard in the Blue Branch community.

During the dance a member of the "committee", as the lawless called themselves, proceeded to go in and call outside each of the men wanted until four men were in their hands. In a short time a man walked onto the dance floor and announced that four men were hanging to a tree a few hundred yards from the house.

On the eve of the second Christmas after Aunt Mary arrived, the "committee" called three more men out of a saloon, took them about a mile from town and hanged them to a tree.

The next morning three brothers of one of the victims came into McDade, seeking the killer of their brother. Two of them were shot down in the streets. Six men lay dead by Christmas morning.

The year 1887 stands out most vividly in Aunt Mary's mind as the year that the greatest tragedy that could befall any human came into her life.

Her husband was invited to attend a meeting of "neighbors", held in the woods. It turned out to be a meeting of the lawless element, which had decided that a certain Negro in the community was to be disposed of. Two of those present were designated as executioners. Word of this meeting was whispered around and Christian was accused of telling what had happened.

Not long afterward Mr. Christian was riding a horse with his wife up behind him when he was overtaken by several men. He stepped to the ground and before he was given a chance to explain his side of the argument he was shot dead in the presence of his wife.

After the death of her husband, Aunt Mary made her home with her brother, Joe Mobley, for 62 years and the two of them reared 13 children of the Mobley lineage. Uncle Joe Mobley died a few years ago.

After the death of Joe she was moved to a local nursing home, where she sits in her wheelchair dispensing cheer to those less fortunate.

In her 68 years in Bastrop County she has seen this area changed from cabins to castles and its roads from cow trails to high speed highways.

Mary Ann may not have given birth to any children of her own, but she provided maternal love to many of her orphaned nieces and nephews and was much loved by her family in return.

If you believe some versions of the story of Cage's death, you might hear that the folks in Oak Hill community would not allow him to be buried there, believing him to have been responsible for a fire that burned down the school building. They claim he set the fire for spite after having been rejected for membership to the Grange Lodge. This does not at all fit into the oral history passed down in the Mobley family. However, Cage and Mary Ann are not buried with the other members of her family in the Oak Hill Cemetery, but instead lie at rest in the Ridgeway Cemetery in the community of Paige where Mary Ann's uncle Joseph Mobley's family settled. For many years Cage's grave was unmarked, surrounded by a wrought-iron fence. This may lend some credence to the alternate version of the event, but I choose to accept Mary Ann's story.

In recent years some family members have placed a small marker at the grave in remembrance of the young man whose life ended so tragically. Mary Ann's grave is next to his, just outside the fencing.

LSW

The A. P. Morgan Grain Company

2008-09-10T17:34:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, when you least expect it, you get an unexpected gift from a total stranger. This week I received an email from a lady in Atlanta, Georgia, who had found my website through a Google search. She wasn't looking for a genealogical connection. She was looking for a reason why her grandfather had taken the following picture of the A. P. Morgan Grain Company.

Google led her to one of my old Family Reunion newsletters that contained a glancing reference to the A. P. Morgan Grain Company. My great-great granduncle Allen P. Morgan was the president of the company at the time of his death in March 1925.

When I began my genealogical pursuits, my grandmother Hodge passed along quite a bit of information on the Morgan family, which I have been thankful for many times considering she was not herself related to the Morgans. Mary Caroline Morgan Mobley was my grandfather's grandmother. Mary Caroline and her sister Sarah and brother John had moved to Texas from their native Georgia, but several brothers and a sister had stayed in Georgia with their parents. Brothers Allen, Edward and William Wesley married and settled in Atlanta. Allen became a prominent businessman, not only owning the grain company that bore his name, but also serving as a board member of the Atlanta Trust and Banking Co.

Allen's life was full of drama. He and his family appeared regularly in the pages of the Atlanta Constitution.

In March 1886 Allen's home in the West End of Atlanta burned to the ground. The family had retired for the night and it was only the quick action of a neighbor who was awakened by the light of the flames that allowed them to escape unharmed. Unfortunately the fire had gained so much ground that the building burned to the ground. They lost most of their possessions and were underinsured. The fire was so bright that many people thought the entire southern end of town was on fire. The newspaper follows the progress of his new home's construction.

In December 1890, Allen swore out warrants against a Mr. Hathcock who was charged with cheating and swindling. This case was ruled in Allen's favor and Mr. Hathcock was required to pay $1,000 in return for goods received or face twelve months in jail.

Allen's daughter Myrtis celebrated her 15th birthday in October 1893 and the affair was quite a social do. "Around the long balcony, Japanese lanterns beamed forth their mellow light on the moonlit grove in front, making an exquisite scene, while within, flowers of exquisite beauty exhaled their refreshing fragrance and sweet music, gay and pensive, floated in inspiring waves around....Mr. and Mrs. A. P. Morgan poured out the sparkling cup of good cheer...."

In November of 1899, Allen was sued by a former business partner who alleged that Allen took advantage of his mental incompetence to obtain deeds for several properties. Allen retaliated that the man had been short in his accounts and had begged him to accept the deeds in restitution and say nothing public about his mismanagement of funds. (I've not yet found the result of the lawsuit.)

April 1907 brought a suit filed against the City of Atlanta and the A. P. Morgan Grain Company by a gentlemen who had been walking past the grain company and apparently fell due to the sidewalks being at a steep angle and slippery from having not been properly cleared after a day's work. The man broke an arm in the fall and was stunned. The case was nonsuited by a lower court but the judgment was reversed by the Court of Appeals who found that a hazardous situation had been created.

In October 1910 the A. P. Morgan Grain Company lost a complaint filed with the Interstate Commerce Commission against the Atlantic Coast Line Railroad Company charging unjust and discriminatory rates.

Many other mentions of Allen Morgan appear in the newspaper as he served on committees, attended meetings and conducted his business. I am still searching the newspapers and finding references to him and his family.

One of the things I had been told by my grandmother was that one of Mary Caroline Morgan Mobley's brothers had died in a street accident in Atlanta. For a long time I thought I had confirmed that fact when I found a reference to her brother Edward Morgan dying of a sudden heart attack while going home from his work as a motorman with the Atlanta Consolidated Street Railway Company. Not exactly an accident, but his death did occur on the Nelson Street Bridge.

As it turns out, she lost two brothers to sudden death on Atlanta streets.

Allen P. Rice Morgan

The final dramatic incident in Allen's life that was covered by the newspapers was his death as a result of being struck by a taxicab as he stepped from the curb into the path of the vehicle. The accident occurred in front of his grain business. Over several days he was reported as improving and expected to survive, but he suddenly died from his injuries on March 16, 1925.

Allen's obituary mentions that he served as mayor of Oakland City before it merged into Atlanta and and was one of the first members of the Atlanta Board of Education. He was obviously a man of prominence in his community. Allen Morgan is buried in West View Cemetery in Atlanta, Georgia. A volunteer with Find a Grave provided me with a photo of his tombstone.

A chance email from a stranger with a picture of a business I knew only from references in news articles brought new life to my Morgan research. You just never know where the next genealogy find is lurking.

LSW

James Jefferson Frankum

2008-08-29T19:49:00.000-07:00

Jeff Frankum was the fourth son and fifth child of William W. Frankum and Martha Goodman, born February 17, 1852, in Linden, Perry County, Tennessee. The Frankum family lived in and around central Tennessee from the time of William's and Martha's marriage in Maury County in March 1841 until sometime after Jeff's birth. At the time of the 1850 federal census the family resided in Lewis County and included children William, Samuel and Mary. In 1860 the family had shifted west to Douglas County, Missouri, and an additional two sons, Allen and Jeff, had been added. One last child, Robert, would be born in 1864.

It appears that when the Civil War erupted, the family returned to their original home in central Tennessee. Father William and eldest son William T. enlisted for service to the Confederacy and served in the 42nd Tennessee Infantry in 2nd Co. K, which was formed of men from Perry County. The next eldest son, Samuel, served the Union in the 6th Tennessee Cavalry, Company E. According to family tradition, which has not been disproved by official records, all three would die from the effects of wounds received. Even though family tradition holds that Jeff himself served in the war, no record of such service has been found for him or his brother Allen.

The first census post-war found the remaining members of the family in Hickman County, Tennessee, in 1870. Gone are father William and brother Samuel. Mother Martha is the head of household and sons William T., Allen, Jeff and Robert are living with her. Daughter Mary had married in 1865 in Lewis County to Edward "Ned" Pope and the couple moved to Lawrence County, Arkansas, sometime before 1880. Family tradition is that William T. would marry, but die shortly afterwards of the ongoing effects of wounds he had received in battle.

The 1870 census is the last record that has been found for mother Martha and eldest brother William T. One rumor that has passed down in the family is that Martha remarried to a man named Gardner, but to date no marriage record has been found and a search of census records in 1880 has yielded no information on what might have happened to Martha.

The Frankum family seems to have stayed put for a few more years. Allen married Rebecca Qualls in Perry County in February 1872. As mentioned in a previous sketch, Jeff would marry Sallie Busby in approximately 1873, but it is not clear where the marriage took place. Perhaps Sallie had ended up in Tennessee. Perhaps Jeff had begun his migration to Texas and had returned to Missouri and reconnected with Sallie there. Or perhaps Jeff had traveled as far as his sister's home and met Sallie in Arkansas.

However and whenever Jeff and Sallie met and decided to marry is a mystery, but in 1877 they were making their way to Bastrop County, Texas. They were already the parents of George Lee (who would make the journey with them) and Mary (who died in infancy, reportedly in Arkansas). Sallie was pregnant with son William Henry at the time of their journey to Texas. Jeff and Sallie would make a brief stop in Daingerfield, Texas, to await the birth of their son on October 9, 1877. During the stopover Jeff got a job splitting rails. They resumed their travel after the arrival of William Henry and arrived in Bastrop County when their son was three weeks old.

Jeff and Sallie may have been accompanied by Allen and Rebecca. Or perhaps they followed or were followed by Allen and Rebecca to Bastrop County. In any case, both families were residing in the Watterson Community of Bastrop County at the time of the 1880 federal census. Youngest brother Robert was also in Bastrop County, living with Allen and Rebecca. All three brothers appear on a list of those who ran accounts in the Charles Coffin Watterson Store between 1878 and 1906. Jeff served as a trustee of the Staten School in Watterson during the 1899-1900 school year.

Jeff and Sallie added five more children to their family while they lived in Bastrop County. Son Jim (James Jefferson Jr.) was born in March 1880 and son Jack Taylor would come along in April 1884. Daughter Martha Ann, born in May 1886, would live only a few months and lies at rest in the Old Red Rock Cemetery. Daughter Dora was added in April 1890 and finally son Charlie joined the family in January 1892.

Jeff Frankum, age 34, holding son Jack Taylor, age 2
Sarah, holding Martha Ann, age 5 months
George Lee standing at rear, age 12
William Henry, standing at right, age 9
Jim, front center, age 5
Photo taken between May and October 1886

Jeff reportedly had his share of the wanderlust that seems to have run rampant in the Frankum family. Jeff and Sallie moved to Fort Bend County, stayed one year, and then returned to Bastrop County. In 1908 they relocated to Brady, traveling in covered wagons. It is said that he wanted to return to Bastrop County, but Sallie had had enough of moving and refused. Jeff died on July 17, 1912, in San Saba and is supposed to be buried there, though it has not been determined where.

Left to right, Dora Frankum, Sallie and Jeff Frankum,
Allen Pope (Jeff's nephew) and Charlie Frankum
Notation on back indicates photo taken at Glen Flora, probably about 1908

Most of Jeff's family ultimately moved to the Wharton area of Texas. Daughter Dora married and remained in the vicinity of San Saba.

From the San Saba News, August 1, 1912, pg 3:
In Memory of J. J. Frankum
J. J. Frankum was born in Middle Tennessee, Feb. 17, 1852, died July 17, 1912, at the home of his daughter, Mrs. John Newlin, in San Saba. Deceased was married to Mrs. Sarah Sanders. Brother Frankum was a member of the Cumberland Presbyterian church. He confessed his faith at the early age of twenty five at New Hope, Bastrop county, and has lived a devoted christian until the time of his death. To them was born eight children, three girls and five boys. One boy and two girls have preceded their father to the other shore. All the other children except two were with their mother in her sad bereavement to comfort her. It is sad to part with those we love but God in his infinite power and wisdom saw fit to call him home and we can only bow to his devine will and say “Not our will but thine be done.”
A Friend.

LSW

Sarah Elizabeth Busby

2008-08-17T12:40:00.000-07:00

One of my mystery ancestors is Sarah "Sallie" Elizabeth Busby. I think I know she is the daughter of Martin Busby and his wife Elizabeth, but there are some researchers who think she may have been adopted by Martin and Elizabeth and that we don't really know her true name. I disagree.

The first record found for Sallie is the 1850 census of Fulton County, Arkansas, where she is listed as a 2-year-old in the home of Martin Busby. (Several transcribers of this census have mistakenly listed her as a twin of Zachariah, born in May of 1850. All I can say is, go back and look at that census closer. Sallie is written in between Mary and Zachariah and is shown as 2 years old.)

My grandmother was confident when she told me that Sallie was a Busby born near Salem, Arkansas, and, on another occasion to another family researcher, she added that Sallie had a sister named Lane. In the 1850 household of Martin and Elizabeth Busby in Fulton County where Salem, Arkansas, is located, there is an older daughter named Delaney. These three pieces of confirmed data have convinced me that this is the correct family.

Martin and Elizabeth apparently died between 1850 and 1860. By 1860 the children are scattered across southern Missouri, living with various families who may have adopted them, fostered them or been relatives. Nothing has been proven in this regard as yet.

Sallie married for the first time at approximately age 15 to a man named Sanders or Saunders. She herself was unable to tell her grandchildren how old she was at the time of her first marriage. Mr. Sanders/Saunders was killed by marauders as he and Sallie were riding through the woods. One family story that has been passed down hints that there may have been a child of this marriage who was given up for adoption after the father was killed. No record of the marriage or of the possible child has been found.

Sallie was reportedly only about 17 when she married Jeff Frankum. No one has been able to explain to me how they met or came to be married. In 1860, Jeff and his family, originally from Tennessee, are living in Douglas County, Missouri, not far from where some of the Busby children were located with the families who fostered them. Did Jeff and Sallie know each other from that time period? The Frankum family is back in Tennesse by November of 1861. The family had returned to Tennessee at the onset of the Civil War and Jeff's father and older brothers fought in Tennessee regiments. In 1870 Jeff is still living in middle Tennessee with his mother and siblings. Did Sallie somehow come to be in Tennessee after the war? Or did Jeff go back to Missouri? Again, no marriage record has been found in Tennessee, Missouri or Arkansas, although my grandmother gave me a firm date of December 20, 1873, for the marriage. It is a puzzle that remains to be solved. (If, indeed, the marriage took place in 1873, then Sallie would have been 25 and not quite the child bride of 17. The only explanation that has been presented for this disparity is that Sallie's parents died when she was quite young and she never knew for sure when she was born. However, I find this hard to swallow as there were older brothers and sisters who should have known the facts.)

Sallie & Jeff Frankum

A dark rumor floats among some family members that the child that may have been born of Sallie's first marriage was given up for adoption because Jeff was unwilling to take on another man's child. I have always hoped that it was a rumor and speculation and not fact. One does not like to believe that one's great-great grandfather could be so biased and cruel against a small baby. And I find it hard to believe that Sallie would have willingly abandoned her baby. I would find it easier to believe that the child either died or was given up because Sallie was alone and unable to provide for it. Another puzzle to be solved.

Sallie at her spinning wheel

So, we are left with the mystery of how Jeff and Sallie met, what was the name of Sallie's first husband, was there a child of her first marriage and what happened to that child, and how did Jeff and Sallie decide to move to Texas? In 1877, Jeff and Sallie, with two children and one on the way (who was my great-grandfather William Henry and who was born during the move), headed to Bastrop County, Texas.

Sallie Frankum

The Frankums were folks who liked to move around and Jeff was no exception. From Bastrop County, Sallie would follow Jeff to San Saba County where he died in 1912. Sallie lived to be about 85 years old and died in Wharton County in 1932. She is buried in the Wharton City Cemetery near her son William Henry.

LSW

Anderson Dunavan and Elizabeth Beauchamp

2008-08-12T18:35:00.000-07:00

The Dunivans/Dunavans came to Vermillion County, Indiana, from Virginia. The spelling varies between the "i" and "a" and records are found under both spellings. Most of the family eventually settled on Dunavan. Anderson, the great-great grandfather who donated the land for Niccum Cemetery, was the eldest child of John and Frances (Hughes) Dunavan. They are buried a few miles away in the Hughes Cemetery, another pleasant and secluded country cemetery.

The Beauchamps moved to Ohio from Delaware and it was in Pike County, Ohio, that Elizabeth was born to Rev. David and Dorothy (Juvinal) Beauchamp. David was a minister with the Methodist Episcopal Church. The family moved to Vermillion County, Indiana, when Elizabeth was just a baby. David and Dorothy Beauchamp are also buried in the Hughes Cemetery, in an adjoining plot to Anderson Dunavan's parents.

Anderson Dunavan married Elizabeth Beauchamp in May of 1844 and the couple had eleven children, the youngest of which, Matilda Ellen, would marry Tilman Wilcoxen and move a branch of the Dunavan family to Texas.

Anderson and Elizabeth Dunavan
(photo obtained from Carolyn Wilcoxen)

Around the turn of the century, many counties published histories that included biographical sketches of prominent citizens. Anderson's life was commemorated in one of these county histories, Portrait and Biographical Album of Vermilion County, Illinois:

ANDERSON DUNAVAN. The labors of this honest, upright and well-to-do citizen have resulted in the possession of a well-regulated farm of 170 acres, on sections 1 and 6, in Georgetown Township. The greater part of this the proprietor cleared from the forest, and labored early and late for many years in order to bring it to its present condition. By the exercise of great industry, frugality and good management, he has accumulated sufficient means to protect him against want in his declining years, while his career as a citizen has been such as to establish him in the esteem and confidence of his neighbors.

The native place of our subject was in Mason County, now West Virginia, eight miles above Point Pleasant, on the Kanawha River. His parents were John and Frances (Hughes) Dunavan, the former a native of Culpeper County, Va., and the latter of the same place. The mother's people were of English stock, and early residents of Pennsylvania. Her grandfather served in the Revolutionary War, and was shot through the breast. He recovered, however, and lived to be nearly one hundred years old. He was provided for during his old age by a pension from the Government. He traced his ancestry to Ireland, where his forefathers were mostly linen weavers by trade.

The father of our subject, with the exception of the time spent as a soldier in the War of 1812, occupied himself in agricultural pursuits. He and his wife spent their last years in Indiana. They were the parents of eight children, seven of whom grew to mature years--three sons and four daughters. Anderson, our subject, was the eldest, and was born March 22, 1820. He lived in the Old Dominion until a lad of thirteen years, then emigrated with his parents to Indiana, they settling near the State line in Vermillion County, Ind. He remembers the time when there were but five houses between Eugene, Ind., and Danville, Ill. As soon as old enough, he was required to make himself useful about the new farm, following the breaking plow, learning to cut wheat with the cradle, and laboring in the primitive style, both in sowing and reaping the harvest. Upon reaching man's estate he was married, May 29, 1844, to Miss Elizabeth Beauchamp.

Mrs. Dunavan was born in Ohio, and removed with her parents to Perryville, Ind., in 1830. The newly wedded pair settled on a farm in Vermillion County, Ind., and Mr. Dunavan in due time purchased 166 acres of land. Later he sold this, and crossed the State line into Illinois, purchasing, in 1855, the farm which he now owns and occupies. Much of this was covered with timber, and he has cleared all but fifteen acres.

The eleven children born to Mr. and Mrs. Dunavan are recorded as follows: James H, died when a promising youth of eighteen years; John A. married Miss Rebecca Mossberger, is the father of four children, and resides in Douglas County; Mary J. married Samuel Hines, and died leaving three children; Harriet J. died at the age of two years; Charles W., who remains at the homestead, married Miss Anna J. Howard, and is the father of one child; David A., also at home, married Miss Mary Williams, and has three children; Anderson J. married Miss Caroline Cravens, and is the father of three children; Edward H. married Miss Holder, and lives at the homestead; Edmund H. died when three months old; Lottie married Frank Breesley, and is the mother of two children, they live in this township; Tilder E. is the wife of Tillman Wilcox (sic).

James H. Dunavan during the Civil War enlisted in an Indiana Regiment, and died of the measles at home. Mrs. Dunavan is a member in good standing of the Christian Church, and a lady greatly respected in her community. Mr. Dunavan votes the straight Democratic ticket, and has served as School Director in this district several years. He may properly be classed as a representative citizen of Georgetown Township--one who has assisted materially in maintaining its reputation as a community of law-abiding and intelligent people.

In addition to providing the land for the Niccum Cemetery, Anderson and Elizabeth helped create Lowe's Chapel Methodist Church on a parcel of their farmland, as well as the Butternut School to the north of their home. Elizabeth died in 1898 and Anderson in 1907. They are buried in Niccum Cemetery at the highest point of the little cemetery. Many of their descendants remain in the area.

LSW

Niccum Cemetery

2008-08-09T07:56:00.001-07:00

In 1892, great-great grandparents Anderson and Elizabeth Dunivan officially deeded the land where, in 1853, the Niccum Cemetery had been established in McKendree Township, Illinois, near the Union Corner Church. Niccum Cemetery had originally been intended to be larger, with additional land to have been donated by the Niccum family in return for having it named in their honor. For some reason the additional land was never donated and the cemetery that bears the Niccum name consists of only the land that was donated by the Dunivans.

Niccum Cemetery is one of my favorite cemeteries and I wrote about my visit there over on Woolgathering about two years ago. I hear the cemetery has been closed for future burials now. When we were there I snapped about 500 pictures of tombstones over two visits in an attempt to photo-document the marked burials. Almost everyone buried in Niccum Cemetery is a descendant of Anderson and Elizabeth Dunivan, or is a member of a family that married into the Dunivan family and I did not want to miss getting a photo of the stone of any relative on what might be the only time I had the opportunity to visit the cemetery.

Road to Niccum Cemetery (graves can be seen in the distance)

It is said Niccum Cemetery is haunted and it recently got a little bit of national exposure when a team from Psychic Kids visited for a show they were doing about a local psychic teenager who claims to be in communication with a hostile spirit there.

The entrance to Niccum Cemetery

Most everybody that knows me well knows that I have had a few psychic experiences myself in cemeteries, so when we visited we were half-hoping, half-apprehensive that something might happen. What we found was a most peaceful country cemetery in the middle of a vast corn field and we never felt anything in the least bit unusual or uncomfortable while we went about the business of ensuring we did not miss getting photos of every stone.

A Dunavan cousin who lives in the area told me that many people have reported having unusual things happen in the cemetery, including the feeling that something or somebody was trying to get in their car or of having their hair pulled. Maybe we did not arouse any spirit's mischievious or hostile behavior due to my being a member of the family. Or perhaps because we were there on a respectful mission. In any event, I found myself feeling very peaceful and welcome there.

Looking upward from the bottom of the cemetery.

During a recent phone conversation with another Dunavan cousin who lives in the area, he pointed out that I am related to just about every person buried in that cemetery, with the exception of the Zinn family. The Zinns, it seems, were the original owners of the land and when they sold it, they were granted the right to be buried there. It's a funny coincidence that one of the first contacts I had after loading all the graves into FindaGrave was a descendant of the Zinns. Some of the stones for the Zinn family had been missing at the time of our visit and I had assumed they had been lost over time. It turned out that they were being restored and were reinstated at the cemetery shortly after our visit.

A gnarled tree stands guard over Niccum Cemetery.

I always enjoy visits to the final resting places of my ancestors, but some cemeteries are special. Niccum Cemetery is one of those special places, as is the Old Red Rock Cemetery in Bastrop County, Texas, and Blackfoot Cemetery in Pike County, Indiana. When I visit a cemetery where considerable family is buried, I always feel a special sense of welcome. I'm convinced the ancestors know I'm there and appreciate that I've made the trip to pay my respects.

LSW

Lucinda Ellen Niccum Wilcoxen

2008-08-07T19:35:00.000-07:00

Lucinda "Lucy" Ellen Niccum was the daughter of William and Maria (Smith) Niccum. Lucy's father married three times to three sisters. All but one of his children was born to his second marriage, with one son being born in his first marriage. In addition to the older half-brother/half-cousin, Lucy was the middle sister of six girls and two younger brothers. In one of those peculiar coincidental events, Lucy Wilcoxen died exactly one year to the day after her husband's death.

A companion photo to the one posted previously,
also made approximately 1904 in Union Corner,
Danville Township, Illinois
Parker and Lucy Wilcoxen with their
children and grand-children
(photo obtained from Carolyn Wilcoxen)

The Danville Press, May 11, 1918

MRS. LUCY WILCOXEN HAS PASSED AWAY
Died on First Anniversary of the Death of Her Husband, Parker Wilcoxen, Prominent Farmer.
Mrs. Lucy Ellen Wilcoxen, for many years a resident of the Union Corner neighborhood, and widow of the late Parker K. Wilcoxen, a prominent farmer of this county, is dead at her home following a lingering illness from a complication of disease, of which dropsy and paralysis were the most severe.The death of Mrs. Wilcoxen, while not unexpected by her wide circle of friends, came as a distinct shock to all, for she was one of the most beloved women in the neighborhood in which she lived. Mrs. Wilcoxen had been practically an invalid for the last several months. She passed away at 7 o'clock yesterday morning, May 10, 1918.

ON FIRST ANNIVERSARY
Mrs. Wilcoxen's demise occurred on the first anniversary of the death of her husband, Parker K. Wilcoxen, who passed away at the family home on rural route No. 6 one year ago yesterday. Her health had been bad prior to the death of the husband, but since then, she had gradually grown weaker and for the last several weeks her death had been almost hourly expected.

NATIVE OF COUNTY
Mrs. Wilcoxen was a daughter of the late Mr. and Mrs. William Niccum, and was born on the Silas Sandusky farm, near Indianola, on December 14, 1844. Her father was a tenant on this farm for many years, and the deceased resided there until her marriage to Parker Wilcoxen, when she removed to a farm near Gessie. Mrs. Wilcoxen is survived by four sons and a daughter. They are Tilman Wilcoxen, of Glen Flora, Tex., Edward Wilcoxen, of Danville; Oscar and John Wilcoxen, who reside at home, and Mrs. Jane Hess, who also resides on the homeplace. Mrs. Phoebe Hines, of Gessie, Indiana, is a sister of the deceased,and Gilbert Niccum, of Kansas, is a brother.

FUNERAL SUNDAY
Funeral services for Mrs. Wilcoxen will be held Sunday afternoon at 2:30o'clock from the United Brethern church at Union Corner, of which the deceasedwas an active and faithful member. The pastor of the church will officiate,and the burial will be in the Niccum Cemetery.

LSW

What's In a Name?

2008-08-06T14:45:00.001-07:00

Before I proceed with a post on Lucinda Ellen Niccum, I thought I would comment on naming conventions.

One of the techniques that we genealogists use is the study of the names that keep reappearing in family lines. Depending on the ethnic origin of the people in question, you can sometimes follow an established pattern for the ways that parents named their children to help you determine relationships.

For instance, one of the common patterns goes something like this:

1st son named for the father's father
2nd son named for the mother's father
3rd son named for the father
4th son named for the father's oldest brother
5th son named for the father's 2nd oldest brother or mother's oldest brother

1st daughter named for the mother's mother
2nd daughter named for the father's mother
3rd daughter named for the mother
4th daughter named for the mother's oldest sister
5th daughter named for the mother's 2nd oldest sister or father's oldest sister

Of course this is only a rough rule of thumb and the traditions do vary from culture to culture. Sometimes you will find that the parents follow the pattern religiously for a few of their children and then come up with a name from out in left field and you can never figure out where they found it. But, sometimes you get lucky and it helps you narrow down which children belong to which parents when there are multiple folks in the county by the same name. Or, you can end up with a real mess when everybody in a family uses the traditional naming conventions and you have a half dozen John Masons running around of the approximate same age. This is what we genealogists call fun.

I myself am named for my mother's mother Lucy, which falls right into the pattern. At the time I was born, however, another Lucy was very much in the limelight with a popular television show. As a result, Mother did not want me called Lucy. She came up with the alternative Lucinda, which accomplished paying tribute to her mother and keeping me from being associated with a dingy redhead. Then she promptly nicknamed me Cindy so I wouldn't be nicknamed Lucy anyway.

When my brother came along, they chose David because they just liked the name. Considering my grandfathers were Arthur and Horace, it was probably better they did not follow tradition but went their own way. Not that there's anything wrong with those names, but I don't think little brother would make a good Arthur or Horace. They did, however, give him my father's middle name, so they did make some concession to tradition.

As I'm sure most people feel at some point, I wasn't all that fond of my name when I was young. I really liked another family name, Amanda, but that was a name in my father's line and I guess it didn't appeal to my mother. The name was still available when my cousin came along a few years later, so she got to inherit that particular honor. I found out years later that they almost named me April, another name I like very much, but that was turned down for fear I would be nicknamed "Ape" when I got to school. It wasn't until I was an adult that I learned to appreciate my old-fashioned name, not only for its beauty but for the fact that there aren't that many Lucindas running around.

But getting back to Lucinda Ellen Niccum. Family legend gave her name as Lucy Ellen Niccum and everything I found for a long time verified that fact. But one day, in my early days of chasing census records, I found Lucy with her parents and made a startling discovery. In 1850 she is listed as Lucinda E. I can remember clearly sitting in the Texas State Library, looking at that microfilm screen and discovering that I shared a name with a great-great-grandmother. It felt like an electric connection had tied me into the past in a twinkling of an eye.

I am happy that I was named for my grandmother, a truly special woman. I am also happy that I share a name with another ancestress in my father's line. It makes me feel like I am tied to both of these women in a special way.

Where they got my middle name, I haven't a clue.

LSW

Parker Kelley Wilcoxen

2008-08-05T12:32:00.000-07:00

Parker Kelley Wilcoxen was the only son of Nathan Baker Wilcoxen and Rutha Wilcoxen. Nathan and Rutha were cousins who married on June 3, 1830, in Columbiana County, Ohio. Their son was born January 30, 1835, near Galapolis, Ohio, and was probably named for his uncle, Nathan's brother Parker. His middle name Kelley most likely came from his mother's side of the family where there are connections to an Ohio Kelly family. The family was still living in Gallia County, Ohio, in 1850, but by 1860 had relocated to a farm near Gessie, Indiana, in the county of Vermillion. Nathan and Rutha also had three daughters, Aletha, Rebecca and Christina.

Parker married Lucinda Ellen Niccum on July 16, 1863, in Vermilion County, Illinois, which adjoins Vermillion County, Indiana, on the state line. The Niccum family lived on the Illinois side of the line, while the Wilcoxen family lived on the Indiana side. The families would remain in the area, crossing back and forth across the state line, leaving a trail of records in two states.

Parker & Lucy Wilcoxen, center front,with children
Tilman, front left and Edward, front right
standing, left to right, Oscar, Jane and John
photograph taken about 1904/1905
in Union Corner, Danville Township, Illinois
(photo obtained from Carolyn Wilcoxen)

Census records and Parker's obituary report that Parker was a farmer. Parker and Lucy had 11 children, but only the 5 shown in the picture above would live to see adulthood. Four of their children remained in the Danville area. Tilman moved his family to Wharton County, Texas, in an effort to alleviate his rheumatism (according to family legend) and founded the Texas branch of Wilcoxens. Tilman and Matilda Wilcoxen returned to the place of their birth to attend the funeral of Parker in 1917:

The Danville Press, May 12, 1917
WILCOXEN FUNERAL
Mr. and Mrs. Tilman Wilcoxen of El Campo, Texas, have arrived to attend the funeral of the former's father, Parker Wilcoxen, who died at his home near the Union Corners church Thursday afternoon at the age of eighty-two years. Funeral services will be held at the residence at 2 o'clock Saturday afternoon with the pastor of the Union Corners church officiating, and burial will be made in the Niccum cemetery.

Parker's obituary has a few discrepancies with the known facts, though this is quite common when obituaries are written under stress and quite often by someone other than immediate family:

The Danville Press, May 11, 1917
PIONEER CITIZEN DIED YESTERDAY
Parker K. Wilcoxen, Resident of Vermilion County Nearly Eighty Years Passed Away.

Parker K. Wilcoxen, a resident of Vermilion county nearly eighty years, and one of the oldest and most prominent farmers in this section of the state, is dead. Mr. Wilcoxen, who had resided in the Union Corners neighborhood, about eight miles southeast of Danville, practically all of his life, passed away yesterday afternoon, May 10, 1917. His death occurred at 4:30 o'clock, following an illness of about two weeks duration from a complication of diseases. His demise, which was hastened by organic heart trouble, while not wholly unexpected by the members of his immediate family and his wide circle of friends, came as a great shock to those who knew him.

NATIVE OF OHIO
Parker K. Wilcoxen was a native of Ohio, and was born in that state 82 years, 3 months and 11 days ago. He was a son of one of the oldest settlers in Ohio, who removed to this state and settled in the then unbroken wilderness eight miles southeast of Danville when the decedent was about two years of age. For eighty years the decedent resided on the place where his death occurred. [This conflicts with the 1850 census records which indicate the family was still living in Gallia County, Ohio. Parker is shown on that 1850 census record as 15 years old.]

SURVIVING RELATIVES
Besides the aged widow Mr. Wilcoxen is survived by five children. Nine children were born to him, but four of them preceded him in death. [Information passed down in the family indicates two additional children who died as infants.] The surviving children are Tilman Wilcoxen, who resides in Texas, and Edward, John and Oscar Wilcoxen and Mrs. Melinda Hess, who reside in the neighborhood of Union Corners.

Funeral services for Mr. Wilcoxen will be held from the last home Saturday afternoon at 3 o'clock. The pastor of the Union Corners church will officiate and the body of the aged man will be laid to rest in the Niccum cemetery.

Two years ago I made the journey to Vermillion County, Indiana, and Vermilion County, Illinois, and visited the graves of Parker and Lucinda Wilcoxen in the picturesque Niccum cemetery.

LSW

In the Beginning

2008-08-04T15:18:00.000-07:00

I've often wondered how it is that some genealogists decide to focus on one line almost exclusively. I've benefited from the research of these devotees of "one name studies", but I don't understand them.

How does one decide to concentrate on half of their family and ignore the other half? Well, maybe there are reasons sometimes. Maybe you have a bad relationship with your mother's family and a good relationship with your father's. Maybe your parents split up when you were young and nothing is known about your father's family. There are all sorts of personal reasons that might lead you to have an aversion to a particular branch of your family.

But it would never have worked for me. Every time I capture a previously unknown ancestor, there is a thrill of victory. Aha, I have you!

Every time I slam into a brick wall, there is a momentary flash of defeat, followed by an increased determination to keep digging until I find them.

I've captured a lot. I use Family Tree Maker software to keep track of all the extended family I've laid claim to. At present I have more than 11,000 individuals in my database that are related to me. I continually seek to add more, beating myself against those brick walls until I feel something start to give and then throwing myself at them again and again until I break through.

I've been at it some 40 years and the brick walls are getting harder. But I'm getting better and better at turning the right corners and opening the right books and phrasing the right Google search.

There are some really interesting characters in my family. I'm a little unsure where to start. I will be posting small items, like obituaries. I will be posting large items, like detailed time lines. I will post anecdotes passed on by great aunts and uncles. I will share items that have been shared with me by cousins I know only by email. I will post puzzles I'm pondering. I will post lots of pictures.

New genealogists are urged to set a goal to find their "sixteen", meaning the names and vital statistics of their sixteen great-great-grandparents. It's a manageable goal and a good place to start. My sixteen are:

Parker Kelley Wilcoxen and Lucinda Ellen Niccum
Anderson Dunivan and Elizabeth Beauchamp
James Jefferson Frankum and Sarah Elizabeth Busby
Gabriel Moore Lentz and Amanda Horton Lentz (cousins)
Adolphus Lycurgus Henry Hodge and Mary Frances Huddleston
Joseph Sheppard Mobley and Mary Caroline Morgan
John Mason and Mary Harworth
Albert McAfee and Johney Elizabeth Underwood

In these sixteen individuals, we already have traveled north to Indiana and Illinois, east to Ohio and West Virginia, south to South Carolina, Georgia, Kentucky, Tennessee and Alabama and west to Texas and Kansas. They include preachers, teachers, weavers, farmers, and doctors. They are the generation who lived through the Civil War, with family members fighting for the Confederacy and for the Union and in the Indian Wars that followed shortly afterward. You will find both the righteous and the wicked here.

Their descendants are scattered coast to coast. And only my brother and I stand at the tip of the inverted pyramid and share the mingled blood of them all. Pretty awesome concept. We share each of them with hundreds of cousins. But only the two of us can claim them all.

They are mine. Allow me to introduce them to you. One by one.

LSW

Our Founding Fathers and Mothers

2008-08-03T10:06:00.001-07:00

While I've mentioned my genealogy pursuits many times over on Woolgathering, it was always my intention for Woolgathering to be a journal and not a history venue.

Building Blocks is dedicated to genealogy. It is my intention to present here biographical sketches of my forefathers and foremothers, the foundation upon which my family is built. The more I find out about them, the more they have become real people and not just dates and locations on a sheet of paper or computer screen.

Many of my ancestors were average people with average lives. Some were scoundrels. All of them were unique. I want them to be remembered for the people they were, warts and all. Every one of them contributed something to the person I am.

I am their legacy.

LSW