The Mormons Again - Tales from the Tree

  There's a passel of Mormons hanging out in my Family Tree. I've mentioned them previously, and noted that given the fundamental leanings of most of my relatives, they sort of stand out. They are not in the direct line of ancestors, but sit far out on skinny little branches, for the most part distantly related to or married to those in the line of closer relatives.

Of course, with multiple wives and boundless progeny, it is not hard to find some connection. The gentleman that is the subject of this post was married to a woman who was my 9th cousin, 4 times removed. Whatever that means. But then again, he had 19 wives and 67 children! He could be related by marriage to you, as well. By the way, I'm not sure how you even come up with 67 names for your kids, and I'm pretty sure they probably had to wear name tags.

But what caught my eye about this near-relative was not his family, but the statement, "John D. Lee is perhaps the most controversial figure in Mormon history."  Say What?

 Sure enough, a quick Google search turned up a lengthy Wikipedia article, several PBS features from The West film project, an article from the Smithsonian, several treatments from a variety of sources, including official LDS postings, and even a link to a 456-page book written by Lee himself, entitled, "Mormonism Unveiled; Or The Life and Confessions of the Late Mormon Bishop, John D. Lee; (Written by Himself)."

According to these accounts, Lee was a shining star in the early and formative years of the Mormon movement. After he and his first wife converted to the young religion formed only 7 years prior, his religious zeal became the driving force in his life. He played an active role in the near-war conflicts that rose between the Mormon communities and the resentful "gentile" neighbors, joining the "Danite Band" - the organized Mormon militia. He was promoted to the First Quorum of the Seventy, which directed the church's extensive military activities, and was chosen to guard the home of founder and prophet Joseph Smith.

He must not have been much of a guard, however, because Smith was arrested and later killed by a mob. Undeterred, Lee turned his devotion and loyalty to Brigham Young and was a key figure in the mass migrations to Utah's Salt Lake valley. Along the way, he adopted Young's doctrine of plural marriages - rather zealously, it seems.

For the next decade, Lee played an important role in expanding the Mormon refuge in the West. He became a prosperous farmer and businessman in Southwestern Utah, helping to establish communal mining, milling and manufacturing complexes. He became the local bishop and the Indian agent to the nearby Paiute Indians. And he continued to be a frequent visitor and trusted confidant of the church leadership in Salt Lake City.

By 1857 the United States government had had enough of the "Godless Polygamists" and President James Buchanan sent an army to Utah to set things straight. Fearing annihilation, the Mormons responded in force, and that's the backdrop for the still-controversial Mountain Meadows Massacre, in which a wagon train of about 120 gentile immigrants, suspected of hostility toward the church, was slaughtered by Mormon and Paiute forces in southwestern Utah.

Lee's involvement in the massacre -- the extent of which is still vigorously disputed and will probably never be known -- was to haunt him for the next two decades, and would ultimately lead to his execution. He had written a letter to Brigham Young shortly after the massacre which laid the blame squarely on the Paiute Indians, but even among his own neighbors rumors of Lee's guilt abounded. In 1858 a federal judge came to southwestern Utah to investigate the massacre and Lee's part in it, but Lee went into hiding and local Mormons initially refused to cooperate with the investigation. 

 By the late 1860s, however, even  his Mormon neighbors were turning against him because of his connection with the massacre, and even some of his wives and children deserted him. In 1870 a Utah paper openly condemned Brigham Young for covering up the massacre. That same year Young exiled Lee to a remote part of northern Arizona and excommunicated him from the church, instructing his former confidant to "make yourself scarce and keep out of the way." 

He was not successful, however, and in 1874 Lee was captured and placed on trial. After an initial mistrial, Lee was found guilty in a second proceeding. The trials were the subject of enormous public attention and gave rise to many accounts of the massacre and of Lee's life, no doubt varying widely in their factual accuracy.  Most played up the fact that Lee had numerous wives and emphasized the plight of the women and children killed and captured at Mountain Meadows.
 
 On March 23, 1877, nearly 20 years after the massacre and proclaiming his innocence, Lee was executed at Mountain Meadow.

My Mormon ancestors - Part 1 - Tales from the Tree

It surprises me somewhat to find that there is quite a large group of Mormons, or LDS adherents  hanging out in the family tree. The large part is not surprising; when you have a half dozen wives (or in the case of one over-achieving relative, an even dozen), large families are the norm. I guess it's the choice of religion that surprises me. Most of the family tends to be in the conservative evangelical tribes, or maybe that just reflects my own bias.

At any rate, there's a bunch of Mormons in the mix, and some of them have interesting stories. Like the Berry family, whose roots stretch back to the American Revolution. They took up residence in Tennessee when it was necessary to build the cattle and pig pens adjacent to the house because of marauding bears. Jesse Woods Berry and his wife Armelia Shanks appear to be the first Mormons in the family, and left Tennessee to join a multitude of Joseph Smith followers in building Nauvoo, Illinois - a Mormon stronghold.

Jesse died in Navoo, and Armelia, with four sons and six daughters, joined the Brigham Young-led exodus to Utah. It's there that we pick up the story. In the fall of 1865, Armelia and sons Joseph, who was single, and Robert and his wife, went to spend the winter with relatives in Spanish Fork and also to purchase seed grain. Late in March, 1866, Joseph, Robert and Robert's wife started home leaving mother Berry still visiting with her married daughters.

Because of the illness and death of Robert's child, they were delayed in departing with the company with whom they had intended to travel; consequently, they made the trip alone. On April 2, they reached Short Creek and were attacked by Indians. The battle was brief and deadly, and all were tortured and killed.

Another of Armelia's sons, William Berry, was at home in Berryville, and knowing that the brothers were on the road, grew anxious about them. An unknown biographer of William described his actions thusly:

 "He saddled his horse and rode out to meet them. Stopping at a grassy spot to let the horse feed, he knelt in prayer for their safety. As he did so, a vision was opened to him of their mutilated bodies laying in their ransacked wagon. Horrified, he quickly mounted and rode his horse for help. He soon met a friendly Indian who was coming to tell him about the tragedy. He sent the Indian on to Berryville to tell his brother, John, while he hurried on to Grafton for help."

"A posse was quickly organized to recover the bodies to bring them to Grafton where they were buried. Word was dispatched to settlers who were scattered throughout Southern Utah to gather into larger centers for protection. The Black Hawk War had reached the south and the Indians were on a rampage."

"William tried to find the Indians who killed his family and he thought he knew who they were. The story is told that William found 2 Indians in a log cabin and was sure that they were among those who had killed his family. With one Indian backed against the wall and the point of a butcher knife pricking his bare abdomen, William tried to make him tell what he knew."

"When the Indian said that he was one of the guilty party, William could hardly restrain himself, and he felt that if he killed the Indian it would settle the score. Then the Indian did a brave thing that brought William to his senses, he calmly folded his arms, looked William straight in the eye and stood solid. He spoke no word and for a moment the two stood staring at each other. At this time it was made known to William that vengeance was the Lord's and that he wouldn't want the blood of any man on his hands. So he told the Indian to get out. The incident taught William a lesson in self-control which he would never forget."

But we are not done with William Shanks Berry, my 9th cousin 4 times removed (try and diagram that relationship chart).  In Part 2, we pick up the story of the Tennessee Mormon Massacre.

The Larkin Bramblett who IS related - Stories from the Tree

The last two "Stories from the Tree" told the sad tale of Larkin Bramlet, who, in an alcohol-induced snit, shot and killed his friend and fellow mill operator. Justice prevailed, however, and Larkin was publicly hanged for his crime in Cherokee County, Alabama in 1854. I pointed out that this particular Larkin Bramlet was not directly related to the immediate family, and was rather merely kin to someone who was kin to someone who was kin to a distant relative.

However, there is another Larkin Bramblett in the family, and he is directly related. Thomas Larkin Bramblett, my second great grandfather, was born in Laurens District, South Carolina about 1803, and departed this life in the same county precisely at sundown on 7 June 1838. We know the exact date and time, because he was allegedly murdered by his neighbor, Hiram Holcombe, and there is a record of the Coroner's Inquisition concerning the circumstances of his death.

The actual document is lengthy and shot through (um, poor choice of words) with legal mumbo jumbo, so here's a somewhat abridged and spell-checked version:

"Laurens District - An inquisition taken at the House of Newton Bramblett [Larkin's father] the 8th day of June in the year 1838 upon view of the body of Larkin Bramblett, late of the said District then and there lying dead.

"Good and lawful men of the said District, who being charged and sworn to inquire for the state when, where, how and after what manner the said Larkin Bramblett came to his death, do say upon their oaths that Hiram Holcombe of the state and District aforesaid on yesterday evening the 7th Inst. between sundown & dark did feloniously, voluntarily and of his own malice aforethought with a certain shot gun shoot and wound the said Larkin Bramblett in the breast, neck and head of which said mortal wounds the aforesaid Larkin Bramblett then and there instantly died and so the said Hiram Holcombe then and there feloniously killed and murdered the said Larkin Bramblett against the peace of this state.

"Spilsby C. Brown was sworn and on his oath says that yesterday evening, the 7th June 1838, Larkin Bramblett, the deceased, came to this deponent and requested him to go and help him get some hogs out of his field; that he went and found a number of hogs in the field and that they run or drove out some ten or twelve head. They caught one, the last they saw, near Hiram Holcombe's fence, which is a dividing fence between the said Holcombe and Bramblett, and that they dragged the hog to the fence near the corner of the field in the low grounds of the creek where the bushes and briars are very thick outside of the field.

"They laid down a few rails for the purpose of putting the hog into Hiram Holcombe's corn field; just as they raised up with the hog, Larkin Bramblett having hold of the head and this deponent of the hinder part of the hog, a gun was fired near to them and in front of where Bramblett stood, who fell back with a groan and never spoke. This deponent spoke and said, "In the name of God who had done this?" and cast his eyes in the direction of where the report of the gun came from and saw the smoke rising but saw no person, the bushes being quite thick in that direction.

He stepped a few steps around the corner of the field and saw Hiram Holcombe standing near a tree in the act of loading his gun in great haste. He says it was between sundown and dusk but entirely light enough for him to see distinctly that it was Hiram Holcombe, whom he has lived near all of his life and is well acquainted with, and that he could not be mistaken in the man.

This deponent, believing that Holcombe was loading his gun to shoot him also, ran off as fast as he could and never spoke to Holcombe nor Holcombe to him. He says it was about fifteen steps from where he and the deceased were standing to where he saw the smoke rise but that Holcombe, when he saw him, was some ten or twelve steps further off. He also says that it was Hiram Holcombe's hogs that were in Larkin Bramblett's field and which they were putting out. The deponent has no hesitation in saying that it was Hiram Holcombe of Laurens District in the State of South Carolina who shot the gun which killed Larkin Bramblett."

Unlike non-relative Larkin Bramlet's story, there was no big city newspaper to record what happened next, or at least I have been unable to find any further proceedings. The best I can come up with is a FindAGrave memorial that states a Hiram Holcombe was born in Laurens District about 1794,  died on April 24, 1842 and was buried in the Holcombe Family Cemetery in Laurens. That's 5 years after Larkin's death and I doubt that the wheels of justice turned that slowly.

So for now, at least, there is no rest of the story. I can only conclude that perhaps it is bad luck to be named Larkin if you are a Bramblett, and that if your neighbor's hogs get in your corn, you might check first to see if he wants them back.

Bramlett & 0' Bannon: One bullet two dead men, Part II - Stories from the Tree

Last week I introduced you to a member of the Bramblett clan, Larkin Bramlett, who, in an alcohol-induced rage, killed his neighbor and fellow mill operator Benjamin F. O'Bannon in Cherokee County, Alabama back in 1854. Larkin was arrested,  broke out of jail, was re-arrested, was tried by a jury in Jacksonville, Alabama and was convicted and sentenced to death by hanging. His appeal was rejected by the U.S. Supreme Court, and all that is left to tell of his story is the administration of justice. and the moral, if there is one.

I am indebted to Jacksonville journalist Eric Wayne Key, who pieced together Larkin's story from the archives of the Jacksonville Republican newspaper and from court records, and published the story in the November 5, 2013 edition of the Jacksonville News. Key writes:

Thursday before the hanging, the wagons and carriages started rolling into town. Carroll County, Ga., was represented by at least 15 wagons each loaded with 8 or 10 people. People came from all corners of the map. Barefooted boys and girls, old men and women, large slaves with little ones following behind them, small boys on mules – sometimes as many as three on one mule. Grown men on switch tail ponies with the women walking behind them. Oxcarts, horse-drawn wagons, buggies, carryalls and carriages - every imaginable type of person and form of transportation were exhibited this week.

The day of the hanging, confusion filled the streets. The tavern on the Square ran dry. People were drunk and fighting. Every split-rail fence around the Square was broken down. The National Guard was summoned to control the chaos. Nothing like this had ever happened in Jacksonville before. At 10:30 a.m., March 5th 1858, some 50 National guardsmen with muskets and bayonets, commanded by Captain D. P. Forney. worked their way through the crowd. Upon their arrival, the noise rose to a deafening roar as the people exclaimed, 'There he is! He's coming out!" Constable Fleming drove a four-horse drawn hearse with a coffin in the bed up to the front door of the jail. Every face of every man, woman and child up across the hill was now turned to the jail and every eye on the jail door.

After some delay, Sheriff Farmer emerged with 33-year-old Larkin Bramlett in chains. He was pale and thin but seemed unusually calm. His hair was long, his face, sharp with features with thin lips and a narrow nose. He seemed quite surprised at the vast throng of spectators there to witness his execution. Walking and conversing quietly next to Bramlett was the Rev. A. E. Vandervere, who, on the journey to the gallows, would try to get a confession out of Bramlett, but would fail. Also walking with them was attending physician. Dr. M. W. Francis who was in charge of tending to Bramlett up to his final moments alive. At times, Bramlett could be seen laughing and then abruptly losing his smile. The men helped Bramlett board the hearse.

When Fleming cracked the whip and the horse set forth, Bramlett was positioned, seated and chained on top of the very coffin which would forever hold his body. The hearse departed from the jail and drove up the hill, rounded the Square and headed south on what is now Church Street for about a mile and a half near Rabbit Town Road where the gallows had been constructed in a gorge of the mountain. Some 10,000 spectators followed the hearse to the gallows. There assembled, the throng measured almost a mile deep.

When Bramlett reached his final destination he was assisted in putting on a shroud and a pair of white gloves. His shoes were removed and replaced by a pair of socks. He then walked up the scaffold stairs to the gallows, assisted by Sheriff Farmer and a deputy. After a brief sermon by Rev. Vandervere the sheriff set about placing the noose around the prisoner's neck, and at 25 minutes after 1 p.m., Larkin Bramlett. enveloped in his white shroud, wearing his white gloves, left this world and a story that would be lost for 150 years.

A shudder and a murmur ran through the crowd. The excitement was long gone. There was a deep sorrowfulness in the air. The crowd turned and slowly made their way back to town. The liquor was gone but no one cared, for it was the drink which had started this mess in the first place. Mothers would use this parable to scare their husbands and sons for years to come. Rev. Vandervere later revealed that Larkin Bramlett confessed that his trouble started in 1845 when he "took up the habit of intoxication."

Rev. Vandervere never got his confession of guilt from Bramlett. He commented six days after the hanging on the matter: "...Were it not for so many hard sayings in his confession, censuring men of high respectability, I could, from what he said and seemed to feel, have indulged at least a hope that he was saved; but such gross inconsistency leaves me in wonder and astonishment. I visited the poor fellow often before his unhappy end; and from what I could learn, he appeared anxious to be saved, and in fact seemed to believe that God would save him; but Mr. Editor, those condemned justly, should not plead justification before God. as a ground of acceptation, but plead guilty and his mercy for Christ's sake, if they expect to be saved. I wish and pray that all may take warning by the awful end of Larkin Bramlett."

Bramlett & 0' Bannon: One bullet two dead men - Stories from the Tree

It was another little scrap of information about a distant relative that caught my eye: "According to the Jacksonville Republican newspaper, 11-Mar-1858, Larkin Bramblett, before his hanging, told a reporter that he was married  at 15 to a girl  who was 13."

Wait! What? Not the part about being married at age 15, though that is unusual. The part that really jumped out, of course, was "before his hanging!"  Of course this sent me digging, and I came up with another remarkable story from the Tree.

A journalist named Eric Wayne Key pieced together the following story from the archives of the Jacksonville Republican newspaper and from court records. Mr Key published the story in the November 5, 2013 issue of the Jacksonville News under the title "Bramlett & 0' Bannon:  One bullet two dead men." I have borrowed both the title and the story. With some minor editing, here's Key's account.

It seems that in 1854, on the banks of an undisclosed pond in Cedar Bluff, Cherokee County, Alabama, there were two mills owned by a Colonel Hendrix. The gristmill, run by Larkin Bramlett, and a saw mill operated by Benjamin F. 0'Bannon. Bramlett and O'Bannon were friends and frequently drank and conversed after the mills had closed down for the day. On one particularly drunken night they got into a heated argument. Before things got bad, O'Bannon left and Bramlett went home to his wife and kids.

He seethed throughout the night, and upon waking the next morning, he visited his neighbor and asked to borrow a gun. The neighbor asked him if he was going squirrel hunting and Larkin replied, "Yeah, and I'll kill a damn big one before I get back." He made his way to the mill and yelled for O'Bannon to show his face. He screamed out, "Say your prayers. O'Bannon!" Seeing the gun, O'Bannon seized the opportunity to lunge towards his aggressor. The gun went off, hitting O'Bannon's leg, severing the femoral artery which resulted in death in a very short time.

Bramlett was apprehended and jailed in short order, but before the next turn of the court he managed to escape from the Cherokee County jail. He traveled to Murray County Georgia, then up to South Carolina, back to Chattooga County, and eventually went on to Louisville, Kentucky. From there he fled to Canada.

After two years and eight months he returned to Chattooga County Georgia, where he was recognized and subsequently arrested and extradited back to Cherokee County Alabama. But due to the notoriety of the case in Cherokee County, Bramlett's counsel requested a change of venue, and before the Fall term of 1857 he was transferred to the jailhouse on West Ladiga Street in Jacksonville, then the County Seat of Benton County, Alabama.

Not surprisingly, the jury disbelieved Bramlett's claim of innocence and returned a guilty verdict. "We the jury find the defendant guilty of the murder of Benjamin F. O'Bannon in the first degree and that he must suffer death. " The Honorable W. M. Brooks sentenced Bramlett to hang for the murder of O'Bannon.

Bramlett's counsel, the Honorable Alexander White, appealed to the U. S. Supreme Court in hopes of over-turning the verdict by Judge Brooks. The Supreme Court rejected his appeal stating, "The judgment of the circuit court is affirmed, and the sentence of the law must be executed."

Sheriff J. B. Farmer proceeded to make the necessary arrangements for the execution by building a gallows and summoning the different officers and physicians as required by law together with a sufficient guard. In the two weeks preceding the hanging, Jacksonville was abuzz with activity. Men and boys traveled to the southern edge of town to see the gallows. Soldier-like young men paraded the streets with muskets and bayonets. Here and there men would debate the likelihood of Bramlett's eminent escape and what he would do next.

There were rumors of what Bramlett was saying to the ministers and to the sheriff and deputies. Had he made a confession? What would he do once the rope was around his neck? How many men had he murdered? Bramlett's brothers were rumored to be here in town [there were 5 of them] and would surely attempt a rescue. With each rumor the security doubled and tripled. Rumors of Jacksonville being burned to the ground by the Bramlett brothers ran rampant.

At this point, I would like to point out that Larkin Bramlett is not actually a blood relative of mine. Unlike Pretty Boy Floyd, he's not even a 5th cousin once removed. He was just a member of the Bramblett clan that spread over the South, starting with the Immigrant John Bramblett in 1630. Larkin even spelled his name differently. But that's one of the reasons it's so hard to track Bramblett ancestors. They may be Bramletts, or Bramlets, or Bramblets or Brambletts, or in the case of one census, Branlets. And often these differences show up in the same family!

But he is out there on one of the spindly branches - apprehended, tried, and convicted. Next week - The Hanging.

DNA, the Tree, and me

I finally did the Ancestry.com DNA test. I demurred for quite a while because when all is said and done, the test is simply going to tell you that most of your ancestors came from Europe, with a smattering from other areas. Since my tree is well researched, I was pretty sure there would be no great surprises, like being a direct decedent of the Ethiopian Eunuch.

But I got a 25% off offer and my research has been stalled for a while, so I figured I might as well join the DNA age. Ancestry needs to step up its game, though - genealogical researchers tend to be old, and a 2 month wait might not be timely enough for some of us. But I finally got the results. And...

As expected, no great surprises. The big 4 are Great Britain, Ireland, Scandinavia, and whatever else makes up Europe West (Germany, in the main). I'm a bit surprised that Scandinavia beat out Germany, but only by a couple of percentage points.

Next is an analysis of where people matching my DNA located in America. That's sort of a no- brainer, too

And then there was a puzzling statement that "We haven't found a New Ancestor Discovery for you yet." I'm still reading all the information and I'm not really sure what this statement means because I'm pretty sure none of my as-yet-unknown grandparents submitted a DNA test back in the 1700s.

What the test did accomplish was to find several hundred 2nd, 3rd and 4th cousins. Like Jacob Gann and Chadric Head, who both had their DNA tested, but as of yet don't have any ancestor trees on Ancestry.com. Not sure what's up with that. The other 1,829 4th or closer cousins I have yet to meet. Of those cousins, Ancestry has matched common ancestors between my tree and theirs in about 60 instances and matched common, but not directly related, people in both trees in all the rest.

That's interesting, because I have fewer than 500 ancestors from the tree uploaded to Ancestry; my local genealogy program database has more that 8,000 people! I will add more names to Ancestry, but I'm waiting on an upgrade to my genealogy software that will manage that for me.

Meanwhile, I'm checking out the cuz's with common ancestors, looking for lost relatives.

Monday Meanderings - 5.22.2017

The church Barb and I attend partners with Anderson High School, located just across the street. That means we actively seek ways to be a good neighbor - such as providing proctors for examinations, drivers and buses for off-campus activities, and the ever-popular "Lunch for the Teachers" at the beginning of every school year.

We also host events in our auditorium throughout the year - especially around graduation time. This week we hosted the Student Awards ceremony and the Baccalaureate service. I ran the sound for both these events this past week, as I often do, and once again I was impressed by the future generation.

The Awards ceremony was particularly impressive; several hundred students were honored for their academic achievements, and the list of accolades for each was lengthy. The members of the senior class each spoke of their college destination and field of study and there was a long list of prestigious colleges and universities and some serious career choices presented. Well done, class of 2017.

I do have one question, however, concerning the ritual of graduation. Have you ever considered just how weird the caps are?

I mean, just what is the significance of that flat "mortar board" fastened on top of a skull cap? I sorta get the gowns (though the Student Body President did comment, "Our parents want us to 'be real' but they dress us up in Hogwarts outfits"), but the caps are just strange, dear hearts

Coinciding with the Anderson Baccalaureate service, yesterday was "Senior Sunday" at our church, honoring our own graduating seniors. We have a family with 4 daughters graduating; 3 triplets and a younger sister who graduated a year early. Can you imagine 4 children heading off to college all at once? We gave today's collection to the poor dad. It was the right thing to do.

Speaking of scholarship, there was a viral Facebook post recently of a letter that some parent wrote to their child's teacher that basically said "Stop assigning so much homework. Our kids are loaded to the point that they don't have time to be kids anymore." A similar post was from a teacher, who stated that, for the same reason, she was no longer assigning homework. Both got a lot of likes, as I recall.

Which caused me to think of my own homework boycott back in the 3rd or 4th grade. Basically, I told my teacher that my mother didn't want me to bring books and stuff home anymore because I couldn't keep up with it and often left it at home, requiring a parental trip to school. I'm sure my mother did say something to me about forgetting my books and assignments, but I seriously doubt that she said "Don't bring any more of that home." That, however, was the message I conveyed to the teacher. And it worked!

I quit taking books and assignments home and I did get promoted out of the 4th grade, so it must have been a successful scam. I don't recall that I tried that again in higher grades, and since I distinctly remember homework I can only conclude that if I did try another boycott, no other teacher bought into it. Pity.

Sir John the Regicide - Tales from the Tree

Last week we looked at Barb's 10th great grandmother, Lady Alice Beconsawe Lisle. Of course, in order for Barb to be in the genealogical succession, there had to be a 10th great grandfather, and a 9th great grandmother, and so on. That would be Sir John Lisle "the Regicide," who married Lady Alice - who, as we saw last week, ended up at odds with the king's court - and their daughter Margaret, who later had troubles of her own.

Sir John, born on the Isle of Wight in 1609, was a lawyer and a politician, graduating from Oxford in 1626 and called to the bar in 1633. He was elected MP for Winchester, and while in Parliament he was chairman of the committee that investigated Oliver Cromwell's allegations against the Earl of Manchester in December 1644.

In 1648 after the second civil war, John Lisle voted against continuing negotiations with King Charles I. Shortly thereafter he was appointed a commissioner of the High Court of Justice for the trial of the King. During the trial he acted in an advisory position and helped to draw up the  sentence, but he was not a signatory of the King’s death warrant. Nevertheless, King Charles was tried, convicted, and executed for high treason in January 1649.

Lisle then helped frame the new constitution for the Commonwealth, and was one of five appointed to the new Council of State. He was also made a commissioner of the Great Seal. In 1653 he administered the oath of office when Cromwell became Lord Protector, and became a member of the Upper House in 1657 ("Cromwell’s House of Lords”).

So, all in all, Barb's 10 great granddad was a big wheel in jolly old England. But, as it almost always did back then, the tide turned and in 1659 the monarchy was restored and Sir John was dismissed from office. Rather fond of keeping his head on his shoulders, John left Alice and the kids to keep the home fires burning (which later proved rather prescient for Alice) and skipped town, ending up in Lausanne, Switzerland.

In August 1664, as he was leaving the acapella service at the Church of Lausanne, Sir John was shot dead by an Irish Royalist named Sir James Fitz Edmond Cotter, doing the King's business under the alias Thomas MacDonnell. Shipping the body home wasn't in the cards, so grandad was buried on the spot, in the courtyard of the Church of Lausanne.

So, looking back at Lady Alice's story from last week, it becomes evident that her harsh punishment was a result of a long-held grudge against Sir John Lisle. The moral here is that Regicide is seldom a good idea.

And what of 9th great grandmother Margaret? Born in 1643 in Temple Church, Hampshire, England,  she married the Reverend Robert Whitaker in 1662. Whittaker, a scholarly churchman from Lancashire. was, however,  a "Nonconformist" minister. In English church history, a nonconformist was a Protestant Christian who did not "conform" to the governance and usages of the established Church of England. If you grew up in the churches of Christ, you understand this concept very well.

Denied a Cambridge degree because of his Nonconformity, he preached as a Presbyterian from about 1662, when he set up an Academy for Dissenting Students for those refused entry to the universities at Stucton, a village near Fordingbridge.

The local Ministerial Alliance wasn't happy that they were there, and the Fordingbridge church wardens excommunicated Whitaker in March 1679 for not attending church, and an arrest warrant followed in September - and while there is no record of its being implemented, it is clear that he and his family (wife and several children) suffered. No doubt they struggled to get by, and when Robert died in 1683, Margaret must called Mom for financial help but the record says the 70 pounds Mom promised never arrived, because Lady Alice had problems of her own. Margaret died on 27 March 1686, a year after her mother's unfortunate demise.

And you thought you had a bad day - Tales from the Tree

Most of Barb's ancestors came from England, though there are some Dutch and French and who knows what-all tossed in there. Maybe she should do one of those DNA tests that breaks it all out - let's see, 40% English, 30% Dutch, 20% French, 10% Heinz 57. Okay, maybe not.

 I don't spend a lot of time working with the British ancestors because there's not a lot of information available unless you subscribe to specialized database resources, and even then it's often just Lord so-and-so, 1st Earl of Wishywashy and Dame so-and-so, Countess of Someplace. But occasionally you get lucky and find an interesting story.

Lady Alice (Alicia to her friends) Beconsawe was Barb's 10th great grandmother. The line is quite complete and fairly well documented and we can be fairly certain about this. She was born in 1617 in Hampshire, England, United Kingdom and at age 19 married  Lord John Lisle "the Regicide" on 23 Oct 1636 in Ellingham, Hampshire, England. It was a lovely wedding.

By the way, "a regicide" is defined as a person who kills or takes part in killing a king. That's next week's story.


Sir John and Lady Alice had a bunch of little Lords and Ladies, and the first-born, Margaret Lisle, was Barb's 9th great grandmother, and so on. Everything was fine and dandy, apart from the fact that Sir John got himself assassinated in 1664, while hiding out in Switzerland, leaving Alice and a bunch of the kids to fend for themselves. However, since she had inherited the castle, servants and land from her daddy, Alice and the kids didn't have to take in laundry to survive.

On 20 July 1685, a couple of weeks after the Battle of Sedgemoor (the final battle of the Monmouth rebellion - but you knew that, didn't you?), Lady Alice agreed to shelter John Hickes, a well-known Nonconformist minister, at Moyles Court, her residence near Ringwood, in Hampshire. Hickes, who was a member of Monmouth's defeated army, brought with him Richard Nelthorpe, another supporter of Monmouth and under sentence of "outlawry." The men spent the night at Moyles Court, and in the morning were arrested. Their hostess, who had initially denied their presence, was charged with harboring traitors.

Lady Alice's case was tried by Judge George Jeffreys at Winchester. She pleaded she had no knowledge that Hickes's offence was anything more serious than illegal preaching. Furthermore, she had known nothing of Nelthorpe. Jeffreys, however, showed no pretense of impartiality, and even though the jury returned a verdict of innocence 3 times, he refused to accept the verdicts and sentenced Alice to be burned at the stake! Jeffreys, a real sweetheart, reportedly said that he would have found her guilty "even if she had been his own mother.".

King James II refused to extend mercy to her, though he allowed beheading as befitted her social rank to be substituted for burning at the stake. Lady Alice Lisle was publicly executed by an axe in Winchester marketplace on 2 September 1685; the last woman in English history to be beheaded by judicial sentence. She died with courage and dignity: onlookers remarked that, perhaps due to her age (80 years), she seemed to leave the world without regret (some other accounts, however, suggest she was as prone to napping during the procedure as she had been during her trial).

Next week we'll talk about Sir John "the Regicide" and his daughter, grandma Margaret.

Scraps of paper II - Stories from the Family Tree

Scraps of paper I - Stories from the Family Tree

I have a file drawer full of scraps of paper, an accumulation of pages, notes, cards, and letters; bits and pieces that have been collected over the years. Most came from my mother during her decades of patient genealogical research; Barb added many more items as she began the quest of documenting her family tree, and I contributed many more items before research became primarily on-line and computer captured.

These scraps of paper have birth dates, and children's names, letters from Aunt Maude about Uncle Henry's bursitis and other family lore written on them, and as I have often pointed out, this is what makes the difference between "just the facts" and the stories from the Tree.

One of these scraps of paper states that "One of the members of the Black family (Barb's line) named his children Jet, Coal, Right and Very." Seriously? Jet Black? Coal Black? Right Black? Very Black? Lacking evidence, I was pretty sure that this was an urban (family) legend. Oh, sure, there was Samuel Cole Black, a great uncle, but he went by Sam, so one really shouldn't count him.

And then, following a lead from yet another scrap of paper, last week I found them. Well, sort of.

Barb's second great grandfather, William Homer Black had 2 wives and 14 children - 7 boys and 7 girls. One of those boys - John Russell Black - was the one with the sense of humor (or maybe it was his wife, Mary Jane Perkins) and they ended up naming 4 of their 8 children Jettie, Coal, Right and Very.

OK, Jettie Nora is not quite the same as "Jet," but you know, just know that "Jet" was her nickname.  She married a man named William Pink Lawson, and is there any doubt what his nickname was? From all indications, "Jet" and "Pinky" had no oddly named children, living quiet lives in Lamb County Texas for more than 50 years.

And I'm totally speculating that Charlie C. Black's middle initial stands for Coal. He has a brother named Erastus C. Black, but I found a death certificate that states in his case the "C" stands for Columbus (actually. the certificate says "Cloumbus, but we will go with the more common spelling). And I'm not going to comment further about "Rastus" Black.

So the C. might stand for Cole - as mentioned, Russell had a brother with the middle name of Cole - or the C. in this instance might have been written "Coal" what with the inventive spelling and all of that era. And Charlie "Coal" begins the string of somewhat unusual names. His little brother is named Joe Wright. "Right," get it?

Okay, I'm reaching here, I admit, but I think Russell and Mary Jane were just getting warmed up, because their last child was really and truly named "Very" Black. No middle initials, no variant spelling. Just VERY. And here's the proof.

Very is buried, along with his wife Ollie (!) in the Littlefield Cemetery in Lamb County Texas, and the family legend has in fact, an element of truth.

I love this stuff!

Should Old Acquaintance be Forgot...Stories from the Family Tree

Synonymous with ringing in the New Year is the singing of Auld Lang Syne, a Scots poem written by Robert Burns in 1788 and set to the tune of a traditional folk song. Roughly translated as "old long since," or more idiomatically, "long long ago," you may have paid Robby Burns homage this past weekend.

I am reminded that while digging around in the outer branches of Barb's family tree, I came across the name Robert Burns. Surely not, I thought. By golly, it is, I discovered. Robert Burns, the Scottish poet, author of Auld Lang Syne, and To a Mouse (not to mention To a Louse) is waaay out on a limb of Barb's ancestral tree.

To be sure, she is not a direct descendant of Robbie. Not even close. In fact, the way it works is that a great great grand-uncle of Barb's was married to a woman whose grandfather was the brother of Burn's wife, Jean Armour. Did you follow that? And there's the story.

In High School English Literature they skipped over the part about Burns being quite the scoundrel. There may have been a quiet mention in College English Literature, but I went to Abilene Christian and we didn't talk much  about those things there, either.

Turns out that Robert's first child, Elizabeth Paton Burns, was born to his mother's servant, Elizabeth Paton while he was courting Miss Armour, who became pregnant with twins in 1786. Burns signed a paper attesting his marriage to Jean, but her father tore it up, "in the greatest distress, and fainted away." To avoid disgrace, her parents sent Jean to live with her uncle in Paisley.

Meanwhile, with Jean away and with Burns gaining some success as a poet, he managed to fall in love with Mary Campbell, whom he had seen in church. Some say they exchanged Bibles and plighted their troth over the Water of Fail in a traditional form of marriage, but alas, Mary died of typhus only a few months later, and that ended that.

Burn's rising popularity (and income) as a poet eventually won over Jean Armour's father and Robert and Jean were officially married in 1788 (by this time he had fathered four children with Armour, one of which was living). They eventually had nine children, though only three survived infancy.

Evidently, the domestic life didn't appeal to Burns; he went off to Edinburgh, where he embarked on a relationship with the separated Agnes "Nancy" McLehose, with whom he exchanged passionate letters under pseudonyms. Nancy eventually reconciled with her husband, but Burns had already moved on to Jenny Clow, Nancy's domestic servant, who bore him a son, Robert Burns Clow, in 1788. He also had an affair with a servant girl, Margaret "May" Cameron.

There's more, but you get the picture. In fact, Wikipedia says that through his twelve children by four different women, Burns has over 600 living descendants in current times.  So it's actually somewhat surprising that Barb is not actually related to auld Robbie.

Happy New Year

Born under a wandering star - Stories from the Family Tree - Reprise

 

My father's grandfather, Thomas Starnes, looks pretty relaxed in the rocker above, but he was actually quite a wanderer. Born in 1854 in Green Co., Tennessee, he stayed there only until he was 16, and then headed to Texas. That was just the beginning.

He landed in Johnson Co., Texas but by age 24 had courted and married 18-year-old Eudora Elliott in Palo Pinto County in February, 1879.  Their first child, Maude or "Sister" was born there in 1880; likewise my grandmother Beulah, in 1883.

The next child, Earl, was born in 1886 in Henrietta, Clay Co., Texas, a few miles east of Wichita Falls; the family lived there and in Bowie, Texas, 30 miles down the road for a few years, but by 1889 had made a giant leap to White Salmon, Washington!

Lewis and Clark gave the name White Salmon to the little Indian village on the banks of the Columbia River, just across from Hood River, Oregon and it wasn't long before a full-fledged town sprang up. There, Thomas worked as a nurseryman, raising and selling fruit trees for one of the town's leading citizens, A. H. Jewett. Evidently, the letters sent back to Texas really promoted the region, because a few years later Dora's father, Samuel Elliott, and sister Sally and husband Billy Brooks arrived in White Salmon.

Thomas and Billy went into the nursery business together, in competition with A. H., but evidently were poor businessmen and today the main street of White Salmon is named Jewett Avenue - not Starnes Avenue. Defeated, the family, with the two children born in White Salmon, Lester (1889) and Archie (1893), headed back to Texas. They were back in Johnson County when Virgil was born in 1896 but the 1900 Census found the entire family - except for yet-to-be-born Loren - in Sherman, Texas. You can only wonder why they were there.

The appeal of wide open spaces was strong for Thomas. By 1905 the family was back in Indian territory again, this time in Tahlequah, Oklahoma, where the last child, Loren, was born. Sometime in this period they also lived briefly in New Mexico.

By 1910, Thomas, Dora, and some of the children were in Ontario, California. Thomas purchased some land and tried hard to be a farmer, but the call of the wild was too great. While Dora and Loren were in Texas in 1913 on a visit, Thomas sold out and he and Virgil - 17 years old at the time - took off for British Columbia Canada, expecting his wife to follow him. Dora had visited Canada previously; a manifest of Border Crossings from that period lists Thomas, Dora and Loren entering Canada from Sweet Grass Montana , but she preferred to live in California, close to where several of her children lived.

My grandmother said, "She would write to him like she was expecting him back any day and he would write her and tell her how to come to Canada; it went on that way for about two years, I think. They decided that there wasn't any use in that any longer."

Virgil describes the journey:

"We left Ontario, California, sometime in May 1913. Arrived in Edmonton, bought oxen, a wagon, and about half a ton of supplies and shipped it to Edson. There we loaded up and headed up the old Edson Trail, to the first place we had picked out on the map - Moberly Lake. 

After about two months of traveling through muskeg [bog land], up and down hills, and across rivers, so on and so forth, we arrived on Pouce Coupe Prairie. It would be late in July. After a couple of months of... travel over the old Edson Trail — building corduroy [roads] and pulling people out of mud holes, and getting pulled out in turn, mosquitoes and a few other things – the prairie looked like a wonderful place; we had no idea there was such open wonderful land in this remote country. 

So after a lot of consideration and scouting around we decided to give up going to Moberly Lake that year. Picked out a piece of land, well up on a knoll, and homesteaded. Put up a little bit of hay here, with the assistance of Mr. Timothy O'Callaghan, for our oxen, to carry us through that winter. 

Well, the funny part about it. After starting for Moberly Lake, I never got there until forty-two years later, and we drove in with a modern vehicle." 

Thomas must have at last found peace for his restless spirit; there's no evidence that he ever left the area again - not even to winter over in Dawson Creek, as so many of the prairie-dwellers did. He lived the remaining 29 years of his life in Pouce Coupe (French for "cut thumb" - ouch!) on that knoll, which is known today as Starnes Hill. He died in 1942 at the age of 87. Virgil also remained in British Columbia, marrying a Norwegian woman and spending the rest of his active years hunting and trapping - I previously told one of the family stories about him here. Dora, true to her word, remained in California until her death in 1948.

The Postcard Series, Part 3 - The mystery card

Delving through the postcard collection curated by my Aunt Ina, I came across a mystery card -- from Ina to Ina, in a round-about way.

The message is: "Dear Ditto, we saw this yesterday morning. It just goes straight down. We took a picture of it looking down. Hope it's good. Saw sun rise on top Pike's Peak yesterday. Wish you were with me. Ina"

A card from Ina to Ina? It appears this card was initially intended for someone else, but instead was mailed home. Not carried, as a number of the cards in the collection were, but mailed.  It is someone else that Ina wishes "were here with me." And who is Ditto?

And why address the card to Williams Court if she knew the post office - or some family member - was going to forward it in care of my parents in Fort Stockton, Texas? I'm pretty sure that Ina knew where she lived at the time.

But that partial address in Tyler got me to thinking. A math professor is bound to know her own house number, right. It's a number, right, and my aunt was crazy good with numbers. This card was addressed, and therefore most assuredly written by someone other than my aunt, whose name is also, perhaps, Ina.

The "Ditto" salutation is another clue. Ina and her major professor collaborated on a math work book published by the Ditto Corporation in 1934 - some 4 years prior to the postmark on this card. And finally, I have a number of examples of my aunt's handwriting, and a comparison removes all doubt. Another Ina, or perhaps an Ima, wrote and mailed this card.

Now the only question is, why was the card forwarded to her in care of my parents, who were living in Fort Stockton at the time? To my knowledge, Ina never lived with them. Perhaps it was expected that she would pass through there from some journey and pick up her mail, or perhaps she was there on an extended visit - she was a school teacher, with summers off, and the card is dated August.

I love a good mystery.

The Postcard Stories, Part 2 - The folks back home

This post springs from the box of 600 or so picture postcards that my Aunt Ina collected and that have been passed to me. The story focuses on 3 cards that my Aunt Lou Amma mailed back to her sisters on two separate occasions.

The first two cards were mailed by Lou Amma from Mexico, specifically Villa Acuna, Coahuilla, Mexico. They are addressed to her younger sisters, Ina and Cora Bramblett, my aunt and mother, respectively. The date, as near as I can tell,  is August 8th, 1921, just over 95 years ago. Ina was 12 years old at the time she received this card. My mother was 14.

 

The message is: "We slept on Devil's River last night and are now in Old Mexico.We drove out in the hills about 10 miles. Have much to tell about our trip. Love, your sis, Lou Amma"

The message is: "We are lunching in Old Mexico having the most wonderful time. Are leaving for San Antonio shortly. Be sweet, Lou Amma.

The questions that come to mind are, "What is Lou Amma doing in Mexico, and who is she with?" I'm guessing that she and her companions camped at Devil's River; it's still fairly undeveloped, some 60 miles from the Texas/Mexico border. In 1921 Lou Amma was 21 years old at the time, and single, since she didn't marry until she was 32.

It was about this time that she began working for the Canadian (Texas) Orphan's Home, which later became Tipton Orphan Home. Perhaps this was a "Trip abroad" before settling down.

Still single in 1928, Lou Amma must have had a yen for travel. This card was postmarked July 11, 1928, in Cody Wyoming.

The message is: "Say Ina, how would you like to be along with us? We are ready to go over the Beautiful Cody Road into the park (Wed noon). I can't begin to tell you what a big time we are having. The picture on the face of this card is of the Wind Canyon that we came through yesterday. Love, Lou Amma"

These cards are especially interesting to me because they show me an aspect of a family member that I was never aware of. When I was growing up, Aunt Lou Amma and her husband, Benny Armstrong, were down-on-the-farm people. Literally. It was a big deal to carve out enough time to come spend a couple of days with my parents. There were cows to be fed, chores to be done. No time for gallivanting around. Or so it seemed.

The Postcard Stories, Part 1 - “Wish You Were Here”

I recently inherited two shoe boxes of postcards that were originally collected by my Aunt Ina. If you follow this blog, you know that I am fond of the stories that are preserved in letters and cards;  a few of those stories are here, here, and here.

As I thumbed through the 600 or so cards in this collection, it struck me that there were multiple stories to be told here. The first is the remarkable history of the “picture postcard” itself (and its unadorned official postal card counterpart). All but extinct now as a means of person-to-person contact, the postcard was the email of the day – and the text message and Instagram. Once, people sent a picture with a note. It was fast, easy and cheap.

Today, if you get a postcard in the mail, it is probably a commercial message from the neighborhood pizza place promoting the specials of the week, or a reminder from your dentist of your next appointment (though mine emails me now). When, if ever, was the last time you got a personal postcard from a friend or relative?

The whole subject of the history and subsequent collection of postcards (called “deltiology”) is fascinating. Like stamp-collecting, there are avid collectors and many specialties. For example, check out Austinpostcards.com. But the subject of interest right now is the card collection at hand, and the stories found on those cards.

Most of the cards feature a scene, or building, or vista of some vacation spot – the type of card you gather up at the souvenir shop and send to the folks back home with the “Wish you were here” message. More than a few promote hotels and motels  – probably available for free at the front desk.

And an interesting group of cards were from churches Ina visited in her travels. I guess you would classify these as “Glad you were here” cards.

My aunt was well-traveled, and quite a few cards contain messages from her back to family members, which were then passed back to her for curating. She had many friends through her years of teaching at TCU and involvement in numerous professional organizations, and I believe that everyone she knew sent her cards as they traveled the world. I briefly thought about compiling a list of pictured locations, but gave that up as too much work.

What about a list of foreign locales? After logging Jerusalem, Mexico City, Montreal, Hawaii, Quebec, Nassau, Hamburg, Virgin Islands, Panama, Jan Juan, Moscow, Canterbury, Amsterdam, Zurich and Kowloon - and less than 1/3 of the cards searched, I gave that up too. Suffice it to say that there are lot of locations represented.

Ancestors, Indians, Daniel Boone and more Indians - Stories for my grandchildren

I was recently searching through my genealogy records, looking for references of Native American bloodlines in my father's ancestors. I knew there was an undocumented note that my great grandmother, Laura Jane Coleman "...was said to be part Cherokee."  But was there any proof?

Laura Jane was born in Bedford County Tennessee in late 1851, some 25 years after the Cherokee had been forced out of the state onto the "trail of tears." Her father has a pretty distinct line straight back to Essex England; however, I can't find any record of her maternal ancestors (though Laura's mamma was named Elizabeth Ann Bivens, which doesn't sound very Native American to me). I do admit, however that Laura Jane certainly looks as if she could have been part Indian. What do you think? Should I send a sample of my DNA to Ancestry.com?

 Laura Jane "Jenny" Coleman Anderson

We do know that my father's mother, who was a Starnes, lived among Indians for a good part of her life, both in Washington State and Oklahoma, and her brother Lester marred a woman who was identified on the census as 7/8 Cherokee, though her name was Mary Payne, but this would have no bearing on my having Native American ancestors.

And my search for Indian ancestry turned up this item that I posted back in early 2013. No friendly relations with the Indians here.

 Frederick and Mary Goldman Starnes

Virtually the entire Starnes line in this country can be traced back to the patriarch Frederick Starnes and his wife Mary Goldman, pictured above. Frederick and Mary were immigrants from the German Palatinate, among a group that had fled to England, and being found unwelcome there, moved on to the New World about 1710, settling first in the Hudson River Valley of New York, then along the Mohawk River in Herkimer County New York.

In 1741 Frederick lead a small group of two or three families from the Mohawk Valley of New York to settle on the Juniata River in Pennsylvania. Unfortunately, they chose land that the Delaware Indians claimed was their best hunting ground and that was too close to their tribal capitol of Shamokin.

A delegation of Indians from the Six Nations in 1742 came down to Philadelphia and lodged a complaint with Governor Thomas that these settlers were violating their treaty with the Proprietor William Penn, and demanded the trespassers be immediately removed. Richard Peters, Secretary of the Province of Pennsylvania, concerned about serving the order to vacate their cabins, fearing that the settlers might refuse and probably were armed, arrived with a detail of Militia in June of 1743. From the lack of records otherwise, it is assumed the families moved out peaceably.

Eventually, the family ended up on the Middle Fork of the Holston River, near the present town of Chilhowie, Virginia. They were not done with Indian troubles, however. Frederick was attacked July 3, 1755 by several Shawnee Indians, who fired upon him and wounded him. Frederick was able to return fire and escape the attack.

In 1779, two of Frederick's sons, my 4th great granduncles Frederick Jr. and Joseph, along with Joseph's son, Joseph Jr. and son-in-law Michael Moyer departed their homes in Washington County,Virginia and ventured into the Kentucky wilderness in search of new lands to settle and farm. Frederick Jr's son, Jacob Starnes, was already in Kentucky, assisting Daniel Boone with the construction of Fort Boonesborough.

They followed the "Wilderness Trail" that Daniel Boone and 31 axe men, (most likely including Jacob) constructed back in March 1775, a route that made a long loop from Virginia southward to Tennessee and then northward to Kentucky,a distance of over 200 miles. This route was known to be very dangerous, and knowing the dangers, Frederick Starnes made his last will and testament before leaving his home.

"In the name of God Amen, I Frederick Starns of Washington County in the Commonwealth of Virginia being of perfect health, praised by God for his mercies, make constitute this to be my last will and testament as followith~~I give and bequeath to Mary my well beloved wife one black mare which I had from my son Jacob Starns and her saddle likewise her thirds of all my estate~I likewise give and bequeath to my son David, thirty pounds Virginia and ever child younger than him twenty five pounds like money-and the remaining parts of the estate to be equally divided amongst all my children (first paying all my just debts)."

As it turns out, this was a prudent move. On April 7, 1779, Frederick Jr., his brother Joseph, Joseph Jr. and son-in-law Michael Moyer, along with 8 other men from the fort, set out to scout some land south of Fort Boonesborough. About 25 miles south of the fort, the party reached a watercourse known as the "Lower Blue Licks Creek." This would take them back onto the Wilderness Trail. Eventually, they entered the narrow Blue Licks Creek valley just below the headwater springs. Here, on the banks of the creek, in a heavily wooded area close to the Blue Licks Springs, a large group of Indians attacked the Starnes-led group. Joseph Starnes, Jr. was the only survivor. He wrote later:

"I was once in a company of four in the year 1779, April 7 over a watercourse in Virginia back of the settlements towards Boonesboro, where we were fired on by about 25 or 30 Indians, and my father (Joseph Starnes), my uncle (Frederick Starnes) and brother-in-law Michael Moyer were shot and I made my escape although they saw me for upwards of a mile and kept firing on me, but I made my escape in the cane and other undergrowth."

And you thought you had a hard day.

Stories from the Tree - A small, curious item

This little item was among some recently-acquired family keepsakes. It's a name tag. Polished brass holder, measuring about 1" x 2" in size. On the back side there is a pin to attach the badge to your clothing. We are familiar with the concept; usually we see them as adhesive "HELLO" stickers, or plastic-encased credentials with our name and affiliation printed for the occasion.

The name that is typed on the paper insert (though woefully misspelled) is that of my grandfather, Lee Bramblett. And Lee Bramblett was a ginner. During his working life he owned several cotton gins and worked at others.  Here's a photo of Lee (2nd from left) and his crew at a gin he owned in Stubblefield, Texas, about 1910.

 The three boys on the right are sons Homer, Tommy and Carl. The dog was named Fritz. One look at the photo and you know that Lee didn't wear a name tag at work, nor did any of his crew. No photo-id on the end of a lanyard here.

So what called for the wearing of a name tag as a representative of the Taylor Gin Company? I'm guessing that most folks knew everybody else in town (except for whoever typed Lee's name) and I don't think there was a big annual convention and trade show of Cotton Ginners in Johnson County. And I doubt that Lee was driving around the county, repping Taylor Gin Company and admonishing cotton growers to "come gin with us."

I searched diligently for some record of the Taylor Gin Company in Cleburne, Texas, and while there were several prominent Taylor families in the region at that time, they all tended to be merchants and store keepers. Based on my grandfather's history, gins came and went with some degree of regularity, so this small, curious item will just remain a mystery.

Stories from the Tree - WWII and rationing

A few more items that originally belonged to my Aunt Ina have come my way. I blogged previously about her rather extraordinary keep-sake album here. My sister recently passed several more items on to me, in part because I have become the default keeper of things related to the family history, and in part because she's moving and cleaning house!

Among several rather fascinating items was a rationing book from WWII. I'm old, but not old enough to know about war-time rationing first hand. All I know - beyond some very sketchy memories - is from what I have read, so this is all new to me.

The front

The back

Rationing became necessary because virtually all of the Nations resources were being channeled into the war effort. Rationing was a way to avoid public anger with shortages and to provide price parity across all economic strata; without it only the wealthy could afford to purchase scarce commodities.

According to Wikipedia, the list of rationed items was extensive: tires, gasoline (and automobiles themselves); foodstuffs of all kind, such as sugar, and coffee, meat, lard, shortening, food oils, cheese, butter, margarine, processed foods (canned, bottled, and frozen), dried fruits, canned milk, jams, jellies, and fruit butter. 

Anything made of metal of any kind was soon added to the list, such as typewriters, bicycles, stoves, metal office furniture, refrigerators, vacuum cleaners, washing machines, and sewing machines. Leather and certain fabrics were in short supply so products such as footwear and nylon hosiery were rationed.

There were different types of ration books, and different types of stamps within some books. For example, red stamps were used to ration meat and butter, and blue stamps were used to ration processed foods. The kind and amount of rationed commodities were not specified on most of the stamps, which were distinguished by drawings of military machines, and sometimes just letters and numbers. Aunt Ina's book was a "Book 3," with 48 numbered stamps of a diving airplane, 48 of a ship underway, 48 of a tank and 48 of a cannon.

 

The actual rationed items and required coupons were not specified on the coupons, but were later defined when local newspapers published information from the Office of Price Administration (OPA),  that set the dates, commodities and coupon requirements. For example, beginning on a specified date, one airplane stamp was required (in addition to cash) to buy one pair of shoes and one stamp number 30 from ration book four was required to buy 5 pounds of sugar. Here's another example:

The commodity amounts and coupons required changed from time to time, depending on availability, and just because it was on the list didn't mean it was actually available.

There's a lot more about rationing and examples of other types of books on the Internet on sites such as Wikipedia. The really interesting thing about this particular book, however, is the connection to the family story.

Be careful when you shake the family tree - Stories from the tree

There is a distant relative in my family tree with an interesting, if dubious, set of associated facts. This relative:

• was mentioned by name in John Steinbeck's Grapes of Wrath
• had a ballad written about him by Woody Guthrie that has been recorded by Bob Dylan, The Byrds and Joan Baez, among others
• has been the subject of a number of books, including one co-written by Larry McMurtry
• has been portrayed in movies by John Erickson (1960), Robert Conrad (1965), Fabian (1970), Steve Kanalay (1973), Martin Sheen (1974), Bo Hopkins (1975) and Channing Tatum (2009)
• was named Public Enemy Number One by J. Edgar Hoover

Let me clear. Charles Arthur "Pretty Boy" Floyd, though a fifth cousin of my mother, therefore my fifth cousin,  another generation removed, didn't come to many family reunions in his day. He was busy with other activities, namely robbing banks and running from the cops.

The genealogical record says Floyd was born on February 3, 1904 in Bartow County, Georgia. He grew up in Oklahoma after moving there with his family from Georgia in 1911, and spent considerable time in nearby Kansas, Arkansas and Missouri. The Wikipedia record has more: he was first arrested at age 18 after he stole $3.50 in coins from a local post office. Three years later he was arrested for a payroll robbery on September 16, 1925 in St. Louis, Missouri and was sentenced to five years in prison, of which he served three and a half.

Entering into partnerships with more established criminals in the Kansas City underworld, he committed a series of bank robberies over the next several years; it was during this period that he acquired the nickname "Pretty Boy," a name he hated. During the period from 1929 to 1933, he was involved in or accused of a number of robberies and shootings, including the "Kansas City Massacre," a gunfight in which four policemen perished.

This brought the focus of J Edger Hoover and the FBI on Floyd, though historians doubt that Floyd was actually involved in this event. Floyd himself denied it to his dying breath, and even sent a postcard to the Kansas City police which read: "Dear Sirs- I- Charles Floyd- want it made known that I did not participate in the massacre of officers at Kansas City. Charles Floyd"

Floyd's life of crime came to a predictable end in a corn field near East Liverpool, Ohio, while being pursued by local law officers and FBI agents led by Melvin Purvis, famous for his dogged pursuit of Baby Face Nelson and Charles Dillon. The genealogical record simply states that he died October 22, 1934 and was buried in in Akins, Oklahoma. It does not state that it was one of the most well-attended funerals ever in the state of Oklahoma.

So how does the son of share-croppers Walter Lee and Minnie (Echols) Floyd, raised in the Cookson Hills of Oklahoma, go from callus-fingered cotton picker to trigger-fingered desperado and something of a folk hero, remembered in legend and in song? I suggest that his story has been told well by others, and I refer you to:

• McMurtry, Larry and Ossana, Diana, "Pretty Boy Floyd," Simon & Schuster; (a fictionalized version)
• Michael Wallis, "Pretty Boy, the Life and Times of Charles Arthur Floyd" St. Martin's Press, New York, 1992
• Merle Clayton "Union Station Massacre" 1975 BM Bobbs Merrill

For an overly-sympathetic, somewhat sensationalized telling, try Joseph Geringer's story at http://www.trutv.com/library/crime/gangsters_outlaws/outlaws/floyd/1.html

By the way, attribution for the photo above reads: "This image or file is a work of a Federal Bureau of Investigation employee, taken or made during the course of an employee's official duties. As a work of the U.S. federal government, the image is in the public domain." How's that for permission to re-post?