tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91567790588696215632024-03-12T21:20:57.086-06:00Memory HookThis blog is intended to locate and pass along vital statistics and family memories of the many branches of my family tree. I hope to make connections, locate and share vital statistics and record fascinating stories about the following family lines: the Davis, Fisher, Hair, Morgan, Slack, Tuttle, Wilhite, and Wright surnames of Southwest Missouri; the Pounds of the Missouri Bootheel; plus the Sanchez and Yrigoyen surnames of far West Texas. Please feel free to contribute, and enjoy!Andrew Hairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05917621588415449089noreply@blogger.comBlogger31125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9156779058869621563.post-27303323685934051702012-04-01T16:54:00.000-06:002012-04-01T16:54:15.552-06:00A Tombstone Exposed: John Clementine and Kissiah Abbie Willite<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Some folks may think that the pursuit of our ancestors in cemeteries is a bit strange.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, to those of us bitten by the
genealogical bug, cemeteries are absolute gold mines of information and high on
the list of places to visit to further our research.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unfortunately, time and the elements have a
way of eroding the tombstones of the dearly departed and can make them very difficult
to decipher. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Such is the case with the
monument marking the final resting place of my second great grandparents on my
mother’s side of the family—John Clementine Fisher (b. 15 Oct 1866, d. 22 Jan
1926) and Kissiah Abbie Willhite (b. 23 Feb 1869, d. 1907).</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Located under a large shade tree in the Jones Chastian Cemetery in a
rural area just south of Nixa, Christian County, Missouri (picture above and below), sits
the weathered stone of John and Kissiah.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Over the years I have seen photographs of this stone on the Web, mostly
associated with family trees on Ancestry.com and Find-A-Grave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, zooming in on those photos hasn’t
produced much information since the characters on the face of the monument have
largely disappeared. </span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I was able to take these photos of the stone one day in April last
year documenting the poor condition
it’s in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My cousin Ben Hurd of Sparta,
Missouri who is very familiar with the stone volunteered to help me locate the
monument and interpret the remaining letters and numbers—or at least we
tried.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We left the cemetery that day
with confidence the tombstone under the tree was that of John and Kissiah, but
there was some uncertainty as to what exactly was inscribed on the face of
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Visually, the word “Fisher” was
apparent along with the intials “J.C.”, but it was a real challenge to make out much
else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We didn’t make a “rubbing” of the
stone since that’s an abrasive and destructive practice for any stone especially
with a marker as badly deteriorated as this one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So what could be done, if anything, to read
the tombstone?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s where technology
came to the rescue!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Using the powerful capabilities of digital photography, I was able to
uncover many of the letters and numbers remaining on the face of monument.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took the photo of the tombstone shown above
and subjected it to a variety of alterations using Adobe Photoshop to highlight
the remaining characters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Without
getting too technologically “into the weeds”, I basically relied on the fact
that, as light strikes an object it illuminates some parts and casts shadows on
others creating ever-so-slight color and contrast differences.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By altering the brightness, contrast and
various colors present in the light captured on that photo, I was able to tease
out much of what exists of the remaining characters on the face of the stone
(below). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The photo above is one of the better digital variants I was able to
produce.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Considering Ben’s knowledge of
the tombstone, plus the initials “J.C.” and “K.A.” and the dates “1869” and
“1_07” for K.A. and “1866” and “1926” for J.C., there’s no doubt this is the
tombstone of my second great grandparents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The photos below present a closer perspective of the individual sets of initials
and dates.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Of equal interest are the two small, flat stones on the ground just in
front of and to the left of the John and Kissiah’s tombstone (below).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They simply read “E.F.” and “L.F.”, and most
likely stand for “Elmer” or “Ethal” Fisher (birth and death dates unknown) and
“Louise Fisher” (b. 30 Oct 1904, d. 27 Jul 1918).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Louise’s death certificate obtained on-line
at the Missouri Digital Heritage web site indicates that she passed away of typhoid
fever at age 14.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I haven’t been able to
uncover anything about the fate of Elmer and Ethal Fisher, but I suspect that “E.F.”
died at a young age and relatively close in time to Louise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>According to my cousin Ben—John, Kissiah and
their children suffered a great deal of hardship as they struggled for many years
to make a living off the land as the simple nature of the two flat stones seem
to suggest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Further
investigation has uncovered other individuals in the Jones Chastian Cemetery
who were related to John and Kissiah making the trip a productive one for my research
and not so strange after all!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I expect
to be visiting more cemeteries in the future.</span></span></div>Andrew Hairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05917621588415449089noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9156779058869621563.post-88362876184522071722012-02-19T12:52:00.000-07:002012-04-01T16:00:06.554-06:00Henry Elbert Wright: A Family Renaissance Man!<br />
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During my trip to Springfield, Missouri last year, I had the opportunity to interview many relatives and combine that information with multiple visits to the Springfield Green County Public Library for additional research on a number of family lines. One of my most pressing research goals was to learn more about my maternal great grandmother Pearl Davis’ first husband, Henry Elbert Wright (b. 8 Jan 1874, d. 1 Apr 1908). I actually descend from Pearl’s marriage to her second husband, Frank Grover Fisher and am not directly related to Henry Wright. However, he has been a fascinating figure I have wanted to learn more about for years.<br />
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In a long overdue visit with two of my first cousins (one time removed), Jim Hurd of Springfield and Ben Hurd of Sparta, Missouri, I was able to get a great background brief on Pearl and both of her husbands. I was particularly fortunate to make a copy an old photo of Henry (above) provided by Ben. The photo was handed down from his mother, Dorothy Evelyn Fisher (b. 10 Aug 1920, d. 19 Jul 2008) who was Frank and Pearl’s youngest child. <br />
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Following the discovery of the photo, I shifted my search for additional information on Henry Wright to the Springfield Green County library. Thanks to the expert help of Patti Hobbs at the reference desk, I was able to locate a citation of Henry’s death in an index of Springfield newspapers compiled by William K. Hall. The Hall index is a great source for information on birth, death and marriage announcements covered by Springfield newspapers stretching back to the later decades of the nineteenth century.<br />
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It turns out that Henry was a prominent citizen in his day, leaving me to wonder if there was more than an obituary in any of the two local Springfield newspapers following his death. To my surprise, the index led me to a listing of newspaper articles announcing his passing in April of 1908. <br />
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The first article I uncovered comes from <em>The Springfield Daily Leader</em>, April 1, 1908, page 2. The microfilm record was badly deteriorated, and very difficult to photocopy. A profile photo was prominently displayed at the top of the news item:<br />
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The article following the photo (below) is a challenge to read, but I have included a transcription that follows:<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Henry Elbert Wright, well known in Springfield amusement circles, died at a late hour this afternoon at his home near the Prospect avenue and Chestnut street, in the eastern part of the city, as the result of an attack of pneumonia. He was of middle age and left a widow and three children.<br />
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No arrangements for the funeral have yet been made. <br />
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Mr. Wright was a prominent Republican and Modern Woodman. He ran for the nomination of criminal clerk on the Republican ticket two years ago and at one time was endorsed for a consular appointment under McKinley. He was a leading Modern Woodman and an officer of that lodge here.<br />
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At the time Mr. Wright was in a high position with the Springfield Furniture Company. He left that concern to be advertising manager for the Doling Park Summer Theater and was later manager of the Lyric Vaudeville Theater. Last summer he was manager of the vaudeville at the White City.</blockquote>
The second article (below), from the <em>Springfield Republican</em>, dated April 2, 1908 didn’t have a photo, but the microfilm record was in better shape. <br />
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Ironically, Henry was a well-known Republican in the area, but the <em>Daily Leader</em> apparently gave his death more coverage than the <em>Springfield Republican</em>. I reviewed several editions of both papers following his date of death, but this is the extent of what I could find. <br />
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I also took a trip to the Maplewood Cemetery to locate Henry’s grave, but it turned out I picked a day the cemetery office was closed. To make matters worse, I had no idea where the headstone was. Faced with the daunting task of searching thousands of monuments, my dad and I decided to make one windshield pass through the cemetery to orient ourselves to the grounds then return another day. To our amazement, I spotted the stone just prior to driving off the grounds. Talk about finding a needle in a haystack! Henry must have been calling out. Not only did we locate the headstone, but no sooner than I had taken a few photos (below), it began to rain.<br />
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The two newspaper articles were a wonderful find and shed some light on Henry Wright’s life. While research time was limited on my last visit, I look forward to future trips to discover more about Henry’s political and theatrical pursuits and to see if I can uncover additional information about his days in the Modern Woodman organization. It was obviously very important to him and his survivors to have the fraternal organization logo inscribed on his tombstone. <br />
<br />Andrew Hairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05917621588415449089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9156779058869621563.post-45529651933608451362011-09-05T18:28:00.000-06:002011-09-05T18:28:54.496-06:00The Marranada: Feast of the Pig!<br />
The editor of the El Paso, Texas Cathedral High School alumni newsletter is Jose Luis Sanchez who also happens to be my father-in-law. “Chacho”, as his friends call him, is well known for his wit and wisdom which is evident in the various captivating short stories he has penned over the years. Many of them are oriented towards friends and family and are definitely gems worth reprinting to include the one below. <br />
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<a name='more'></a>In keeping with the annual “Tamalada” (tamale dinner) fundraiser held each fall, Chacho wrote the following article for the September 2011edition describing a rather peculiar episode from his childhood that occurred one day in Juarez, Chihuahua, Mexico: <br />
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As we prepare for our annual Tamalada, memory recalls an event where similar preparations were made many years ago for a birthday party by a park and swimming pool in the outskirts of Juarez. <br />
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My parents had invited over one hundred guests to be treated to “Carnitas’ from a freshly slaughtered pork that “Tony”, my dad’s compadre, would prepare in the grounds just steps away from the main party. <br />
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The main cooking area was nothing more than a huge tub over a wood bonfire where the cut pieces of pork would be cooked to perfection and from there would be served on plates accompanied with some homemade red chile sauce and corn tortillas. <br />
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Compadre Tony had done this many times before and he worked alone as he chopped and fed the tub with the cut pieces of pork and braved the ensuing boiling grease with nothing more than a special leather glove to protect against a rather hazardous undertaking. <br />
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The bad pieces he would just throw to a lively pack of dogs that kept their distance but came closer as the pack grew larger. My job was to keep throwing rocks at the dogs to keep them away. <br />
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Without warning a medium size dog approached the boiling tub and to our surprise jumped directly into the tub of boiling grease and probably died instantly. <br />
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Tony reached with his glove and grabbed the boiled dog by the tail and threw him to the side. <br />
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By this time the guests were clamoring for the crisp Carnitas so Tony made me a sign to keep quiet as he served the pork to the ladies who took them to their respective tables. <br />
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Everybody congratulated Tony for the tasty pork but I passed on a plate as I disappeared behind some bushes to bury the lifeless dog. Somewhere along that evening, I had lost my appetite.</blockquote>
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I admit to consuming a few plates of carnitas in my day, and they are indeed “tasty”, but I will no doubt remember my father-in-law’s story and that poor dog the next time carnitas present themselves on the menu. Bon appetite! Andrew Hairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05917621588415449089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9156779058869621563.post-86935597496751062952011-09-03T15:29:00.000-06:002011-09-03T15:29:32.570-06:00A Ballgame, Tall Tales and a Chance to Meet Cousins!<br />
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Back in early August I had one of those rare opportunities to actually meet, for the first time, cousins discovered in the past two years while researching my family history. I was fortunate in that my business required me to travel to Arlington, Texas for a conference that coincidentally put me in close proximately to both Jim and John Slack. We are all second cousins from our common great grandfather, John W. Slack (b. Nov 23, 1873, d. Apr 5, 1959).<br />
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As luck would have it, both Jim and John were available the evening of August 9 and agreed to meet. We decided on a Texas Rangers game which included 104-degree temperatures and stifling humidity, but despite the oppressive weather we all had a great time. In fact, we got so embroiled in conversation about our families and our great grandfather that we periodically lost track of the game. The crowd did manage to draw our attention back to the field in the bottom of the ninth when the Rangers drove in the winning run in what became an exciting come-from-behind victory. We almost missed it! <br />
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Somewhere during the game, an usher was kind enough to snap the photo shown at the head of this post. From left to right in the picture are Jim Slack, Andrew Hair, and John Slack. We were mercifully sitting in a “shaded” part of the park! <br />
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Jim’s grandfather was James Earl Slack (b. Nov 2, 1899, d. Aug 17, 1993); John’s was Garland Glenwill Slack (b. May 9, 1904, d. Aug 31, 1978), and my grandfather was Ellsworth Woodrow Slack (b. Mar 16, 1914, d. Mar 4, 1996). Both Jim and John’s paternal grandfathers and my maternal grandfather were brothers. Fortunately for all three of us we share an interest in our shared Slack family history. We spent the evening talking about hunting and fishing stories, boat races, flying, mining, and other topics of interest related to the Slack brothers and sisters from Southwest Missouri. <br />
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As it turned out, we all knew bits and pieces of many of the same yarns our common ancestors had passed down through the years. It was fascinating to hear different versions of some of the stories my grandfather had told to me when I was a boy. The evening did reinforce one perception of my grandfather and his brothers—they were all story tellers in their own right. More importantly, as I am learning from my cousins, some of the Slack tales are more colorful and taller than I thought. Nevertheless, that’s what makes them great!<br />
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Unfortunately, the game that hot August evening went by too quickly and had to come to an end, but we all vowed to get together again one day and begin spinning some tales of our own. After all, we have a family tradition to keep alive and well!Andrew Hairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05917621588415449089noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9156779058869621563.post-15867529956366311702011-08-27T21:41:00.000-06:002011-09-04T21:19:39.525-06:00Gaining Pounds the Healthy Way!<br />
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Webster’s dictionary defines “serendipity” as “a surprising and unexpected discovery”. During the past few months, “serendipity” is more than adequate to describe the unexpected find of Albert Hersel Pound’s (b. 12 Sep 36, d. 18 Feb 77) family, and mine too! A small tidbit of information I gathered in April during a trip to St. Louis, Missouri turned out to be crucial in guiding me to four living aunts, an uncle and over 15, first cousins I never knew I had.<br />
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Following my trip to St. Louis, I blogged about meeting the stepchildren of Albert Pounds and his second wife Marie Augustine. During a wonderful dinner at an Italian restaurant, I asked Brenda Pogano, Carol Loehr and Michael St. Onge for any information on Albert’s siblings. Unfortunately, the best they could recall, at least initially, were a few bits of information on Albert’s sisters. That included a few given names but no married names. It wasn’t until the end of the evening that one of Al’s brothers, Dewey, came up in the conversation. He was pointed out in a photo they provided that evening. Dewey, in the picture at beginning of this post, is the brother in the middle flanked by Al on the left and James Pounds on the right.<br />
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Armed with that bit of information on a potential uncle, a quick search of the Social Security Death registry online resulted in one record: Dewey G. Pounds, born 1 December 1939, died 3 November, 2008. It certainly seemed liked the “Dewey” my stepsiblings mentioned, but that had to be confirmed. I needed to find someone connected to the family in the Toledo, Ohio area to verify this and continue the hunt.<br />
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I started an online search for any “Pounds” in the Toledo area and expanded my search to adjacent towns in the immediate area. Once again, Facebook provided the next clue—Susan Pounds. I contacted Susan, but our initial email exchange didn’t prove any connections. Fortunately, a telephone follow-up several weeks later produced a breakthrough. Susan went online and read the blog post from my visit to St. Louis and recognized an individual in one of the photos. That person was James Wesley Pounds, Jr., the father of Susan’s late husband, Michael Pounds. I had finally found a connection to my Pounds roots two years in the making! <br />
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I learned from Susan that Michael had previously been married to Debbied Babel, also of Toledo. Susan and Debbie have stayed in touch over the years and were both very helpful in sharing valuable information in my quest for the Pounds family. They even took the time to help me contact James Pounds and his wife Barbara of Toledo, Ohio. After all these years, I picked up the phone and nervously dialed my newly discovered uncle.<br />
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The lengthy phone call to James and Barbara opened the door that I had hoped would one day swing open. All it took was a little luck and a couple of phone calls. James and Barbara answered many questions about Albert, his parents and siblings. During our conversation, I also uncovered one interesting tidbit (among many) that I recall my mother mentioning to me many years ago. According to James, my parents actually came to Toledo to live when my mother was expecting me! <br />
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I do recall my mother telling me that the trip to Toledo was only intended to be a brief visit. However, after a short stay with James, Albert and my mother (Sharon) relocated back to Springfield. James went on to say that Al couldn’t find employment in the Toledo area and only moved back after an exhaustive job search. I was also told my parents even rented an apartment just prior to moving back to Missouri. James believes a great deal of my father’s failure to find work was due to his diabetes and general poor health. Nevertheless, I can’t help but wonder how my life would have changed had my parents decided to stay. <br />
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Following up on my conversation with James and Barbara, I was put in contact with a newly discovered cousin, William Kopcznski of Florida. Bill helped fill me in on the various aunts and uncles along with the many first cousins we share. James then put me in touch with one of my aunts, Virginia Gedert and her daughter Cheryl Gedert of Toledo, Ohio. Both Virginia and Cheryl have been incredibly helpful in providing additional family details to include birth dates and information about my grandparents, James W. and Lora (Mills) Pounds.<br />
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In the weeks following the basic introductory conversations and emails, I have learned much about my grandfather and grandmother, their children and a few facts about my great grandparents as well. As I had suspected, Lora was a Missourian and lived in the Bootheel area of the state. I also confirmed that my grandfather was indeed born in Tennessee as I suspected. <br />
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During the past few months, I have been adding to my family tree at a feverous clip. I can say with great confidence and for the first time in my life that the several “Pounds” I have gained in the process has been a healthy thing! Andrew Hairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05917621588415449089noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9156779058869621563.post-21572300901908807152011-05-22T15:13:00.000-06:002011-05-22T15:13:18.888-06:00Henrietta E. Wright: Teacher and a "Grand Aunt"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fO1Di4wzKqc/Tdl2R7DowsI/AAAAAAAAAKM/qkfAufqDOwE/s1600/Henrietta+E.+Wright+Ca.+1930.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" j8="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fO1Di4wzKqc/Tdl2R7DowsI/AAAAAAAAAKM/qkfAufqDOwE/s400/Henrietta+E.+Wright+Ca.+1930.jpg" width="253" /></a></div><br />
Graduation time is upon us once again! In keeping with the season, here’s a graduation photo of Henrietta E. Wright (b. 8 Jun 1908 d. 6 Aug 1985). Henrietta was my maternal Grandmother Louise (Fisher) Slack’s half-sister, and my grand aunt. She went on to become an elementary school teacher and taught for various districts throughout Southwest Missouri for many years.<br />
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Henrietta was the fourth and final child born to Henry Elbert Wright (b. 8 Jan 1874 d. 1 Apr 1908) and Pearl Davis (b. 25 Sep 1879 d. 14 Dec 1944). Unfortunately, Henry passed away just prior to Henrietta’s birth. Pearl remarried two years later to Frank Grover Fisher (b. 22 Sep 1888 d. 26 Apr 1965), hence the reason my maternal grandmother Louise (Henrietta’s half-sister) was born with the surname “Fisher”. Pearl’s parents, Marion Davis (b. 31 Jan 1852 d. 12 Jul 1930) and Ellen Tuttle (b. 24 Apr 1862 d. 17 Sep 1935) were actually the ones who raised Henrietta. To my knowledge, Henrietta never did live with her mother Pearl and Frank Fisher. I have my theory why this happened, but I’ll explore that in more detail in a future post. <br />
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A burning question I have concerning the graduation photo above is the date it was taken. There’s nothing written on the back of this portrait, nor have I found any documentation associated with it. Furthermore, was it taken for her high school or college graduation? It’s difficult to tell, but she appears to be a little older than a high school student which leads me to believe it’s her college graduation. However, guessing a lady’s age has frequently been a dangerous undertaking for me in the past, so I offer my hypothesis cautiously!<br />
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If this does depict her graduation from the Southwest Missouri State Teachers College (now Missouri State and my alma mater) in Springfield, Missouri, then it would have been taken when she was around 22 years old, or approximately 1930. The next time I have the opportunity to visit Springfield, I need to visit the Missouri State library and examine yearbooks from the 1930’s to see if I can match this photo.<br />
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Henrietta went on to teach many students throughout Southwest Missouri for over 30 years that I can account for. I believe she retired at some point in the late 1960’s or early 1970’s. She never married or had any children, and passed away in 1986 in Springfield, Missouri. I knew Henrietta to be a kind and generous person, with a self-deprecating sense of humor. She was always quick to send a kind letter or card when someone was sick or going through a rough spot.<br />
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I have included a school portrait (below) from her teaching years. On the back of the photo it reads: “For your back yard to keep the crows and pests away! 1961-1962”. <br />
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While visiting Springfield, Missouri last month, I was able to locate Henrietta’s obituary (below) at the Springfield Greene County Public Library, Library Center. The Library Center has a wonderful index of birth, deaths, marriage and other vital statistics from Springfield newspapers stretching back to the late ninetieth century. I was able to collect many obituaries, to include Henrietta’s (Halls Index of the <em>Springfield Leader and Press</em> for 1985, p. 619, article originally printed August 8, 1985).<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>One of my favorite stories about Henrietta involved her last car—a powder blue 1951 Buick Special. I was told she was the original owner, and didn’t drive if very often. By the middle of the 1970’s, as I discovered, she was quite literally the prototypical “little old lady” who only drove to church, her volunteer duties and to take care of errands a few days a week. When she could no longer drive, I was the one she gave the car to. It was my first vehicle, in fact. I don’t recall the mileage but it had somewhere around 50,000 miles on it, and the body was in good shape. Unfortunately, the engine and transmission needed significant repair work, but I was not mechanically inclined at that time or financially able to do deal with it. As a result, my first car stayed parked in the garage until it is was sold in the early 1980’s. I always thought it was a cool ride, but ironically—I never drove it! Regardless, I appreciated the gift from a truly "grand" Grand Aunt Henrietta. Andrew Hairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05917621588415449089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9156779058869621563.post-63904312543017399662011-05-15T21:59:00.000-06:002011-05-15T21:59:23.216-06:00Louise Fisher: A Grade Card from the Roaring Twenties!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Qww535kExGQ/TdCahBUOcKI/AAAAAAAAAKA/z62anuWuYFg/s1600/Louise+Fisher+Photo+and+Her+Grade+Card.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="307" j8="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Qww535kExGQ/TdCahBUOcKI/AAAAAAAAAKA/z62anuWuYFg/s400/Louise+Fisher+Photo+and+Her+Grade+Card.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
It’s May and that means one thing—the end of the traditional school year is upon us. Approximately nine months of lectures, homework, science projects and tests culminate into the dreaded grade card that some will recall reluctantly taking home for parental scrutiny. It’s an educational rite of passage that’s been around for generations. In line with the season, it seems fitting to post the eight grade report card for my maternal grandmother, Louise (Fisher) Slack (b. 24 Apr 1913 d. 9 Mar 1998). Louise was a student at North Star school in Greene County Missouri for the 1926 fall and 1927 spring semesters. It’s one of my favorite family documents.<br />
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The photo at the top of this post shows the front page of the four-page grade card along with a photo of Louise that was probably taken a year or two prior to her eighth grade year. The image below illustrates the inside pages (2 and 3) of the report card. <br />
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</div>I enjoy studying this grade card and usually see something new every time I look at it. It’s fun to compare and contrast it with report cards I remember from my youth, along with standard grade reports of today. Even a cursory examination of the document is fascinating. Wow—times have changed!<br />
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The card starts off with general guidance “To the Pupil” on the front page that’s worth mentioning. I’m particularly drawn to the fifth paragraph, which states: “Cultivate promptness, energy and patient industry. They are worth more to you than money or influence in securing success in life.” It’s interesting to note that the United States of the 1920’s is a period many historians consider to be a “gilded age” characterized by conspicuous consumption and excess, and in some ways, is not too unlike socio-economic conditions of today. In my opinion, that paragraph echoes words of wisdom from 86 years ago worth printing on current day report cards. However, I suspect the youth of today might struggle a bit to understand the “patient industry” concept, but hope springs eternal! <br />
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My grandmother frequently told me she liked going to school and studied hard. Her grades for the academic school year 1926-1927 certainly reflect that. As one can see, her marks were almost perfect, along with her attendance throughout the school year. The only thing she seems to have had any trouble with, and only slightly at that, was in the category of “deportment” (behavior) in the third reporting period. Now there’s a word that doesn’t get much use any more! I wonder what the “deportment” problem was all about? Otherwise, these are grades any parent would be proud of, and I’m sure her parents Frank and Pearl were very satisfied. <br />
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Another entry on the report card I find interesting is found near the bottom of the second page under the section titled: “Notes to Parents or Guardians”. The fourth paragraph reads: “You should encourage your children to remain in school until the eight grades are completed and longer if possible.” We might find this to be an unusual item to place on a report card today, but nearly a century ago it was not uncommon for children in rural Southwest Missouri to only complete eight years of education, if that, and then get down to the business of farming. It’s plain to see that even then, school officials were concerned about attendance and were sending a message to parents about the value of twelve full years of formal education. <br />
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My favorite part of Louise Fisher’s grade card is the “Industrial Work” section found on the last page (below). <br />
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This is apparently a parental assessment section that Louise’s mother completed for each reporting period and is intriguing to me for two reasons. <br />
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First, my grandmother must not have been “into” sewing at that time. The “M” grade (medium level assessment) her mother gave her wasn’t that good and seems to be out of character for Louise. Ironically, when I knew my grandmother in later years, she loved to sew and was very good at it. I’m also fascinated with how honest Pearl was in assessing the mediocre grade. It tells me something about her. I guess Louise’s seamstress interests and talents blossomed following her middle school years.<br />
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Incidentally, my grandmother was a wonderful baker, and would routinely make phenomenal pies, cakes, various breads and even doughnuts from scratch. Her interest and talent in the baking arts probably developed at some point after her eight-grade year as well. <br />
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The second reason for my interest in this page of the report card has to do with the obvious gender attitudes and biases of the time. In her younger years, as she was fond of recalling, my grandmother was required to complete some of the same chores that her brothers were responsible for. Knowing her, she probably did a better job! The expectations from the educational system of that time were clearly different, however, and this grade card helps to highlight the significant social change that has occurred in the decades since.<br />
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Of additional interest, my grandmother’s marks for ironing were excellent as her mother also reported. Even to this day, I do my own ironing and am told I’m pretty good at it. I must have inherited that gene from my Grandmother Louise! Unfortunately, I don't have quite the same domestic skills demonstrated by my grandmother which leads me to wonder what family member I inherited that shortcoming from! <br />
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With consideration to the “Boys” side of the “Industrial Work” ledger (shown on page four), at least I can say I have milked a cow! Thankfully, no one provided an official evaluation for the one time I performed the chore, as I recall somehow managing to greatly upset the cow. As a result of that experience, I’ve stuck to purchasing diary products from the supermarket. It’s safer that way.Andrew Hairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05917621588415449089noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9156779058869621563.post-53098729746012990292011-05-05T20:34:00.000-06:002011-05-05T20:34:50.460-06:00A Rainy Day at Wildwood<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Q2fzGkqqFso/TcNaFkYPKEI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/8f-7ikon7Ic/s1600/Bethel+Cemetery+Collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="275" j8="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Q2fzGkqqFso/TcNaFkYPKEI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/8f-7ikon7Ic/s400/Bethel+Cemetery+Collage.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>I have known of the final resting place of my natural father, Albert Hersel Pounds, for about 18 months now. I was excited to finally get the opportunity to visit his gravesite back on April 15. It would have been a struggle to find the actual marker, but thanks to the accurate directions provided by my stepsisters and stepbrother, it was easy to locate.<br />
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Despite the severely overcast skies and immanent threat of rain on the morning of my visit, I was struck by the idyllic setting of the Bethel Church and Cemetery at Wildwood, Missouri as something straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting. The church was apparently built back in 1875 and is still in operation today. According to my stepsiblings, this is the ancestral family church and cemetery where many of their family members (including Al) are buried. <br />
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After a short drive into the cemetery, I found Al’s grave next to the grave of his second wife, Marie M. Augustine (above). She remarried after his passing, hence the name “McLain”. I had to pull a few weeds and brush off the grave markers, but the heavens cooperated so I could take a few photos. In fact, jus<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">t as I snapped my final shot and placed the cap on the lens, it began to rain. </span>Andrew Hairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05917621588415449089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9156779058869621563.post-56845844709368672932011-05-04T22:32:00.000-06:002011-05-04T22:32:36.150-06:00Albert H. Pounds: A Flag, More Clues, and a Memorable Evening!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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It took several months, but I finally got the opportunity to visit my newly discovered stepsisters and stepbrother in the St. Louis, Missouri area during a trip to the Show-Me State. We met at a restaurant in Ellisville, Missouri back on April 14 and traded stories about the one person we all had in common—Albert Hersel Pounds (b. 12 Sep 1936, d. 19 Feb 1977).<br />
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As I have written in past blog posts, Al was my natural father, yet someone I scarcely knew. He largely disappeared from my life following his divorce from my mother in Springfield, Missouri when I was about three years old. Outside of a few brief phone calls and a hand full of birthday cards in the years following the separation, I barely knew Al existed. <br />
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I was aware that Al remarried, but until eighteen months ago I had no idea he helped raise the children of Marie M. Augustine (b. 12 Jun 1930, d. 24 Oct 1995) from her previous marriage. They lived together as a family in Kirkwood, Missouri from 1967 until Al’s death in 1977. <br />
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Upon entering the restaurant that evening, I was a little anxious but intensely curious about what lay ahead. Waiting for me at the largest table in a small Italian restaurant was Brenda Pogano, Carol Loehr, Michael St. Onge, and their spouses. After a warm greeting, the evening proceeded to become a memorable one for me.<br />
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To kick things off, Michael presented me the flag that was draped over Al’s coffin (picture above, top of post) at his funeral and burial. As a veteran myself, I understand the importance and symbolism of this memento and will treasure it for the rest of my days. Upon returning to El Paso, I purchased a display case and now have it prominently displayed in my home. It’s the least I can do for Al, and fitting from one veteran to another—I think he’d appreciate that. I owe a great debt of gratitude to Michael and his sisters for parting with Al's flag and presenting it to me after 34 years!<br />
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Next, Brenda surprised me with a photo of my grandmother, Lora Jane Mills (below)! Prior to this photo, I was aware of my grandmother's maiden name and suspected she was born in Missouri (presumably the bootheel area). I also had determined she passed away before my grandfather. He died in 1961. Then I flipped it over. <br />
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The back of the photo shows two dates written in pencil—“Married Name Lora Jane Pounds 1955,” and “Maiden Name Lora Jane Mills 1899”. The year “1899” inscribed on the back probably refers to the year she was born, and I suspect the “1955” indicates when she passed away, but those are guesses at this point. At least these dates give me something to work with in my research, and provide more than I had before. <br />
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There is also a “Lary Ponds” poorly written in pencil below Lora Jane’s name on the back of the photo. It appears to be the writing and spelling of child who may have intended to write “Larry Pounds”. Is this another unknown relative? <br />
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Brenda also presented me an old copy of Al’s death certificate indicating that his mother, Lora Jane, was born in Missouri (below). A version of Al’s certificate I ordered from the State of Missouri several months back didn’t have that information and spelled Lora Jane’s maiden name as “Mins”. The certificate provided by Brenda lists her name as “Mills”. Brenda’s version of Al’s birth certificate, along with the inscription on the back of the Lora Jane photo helps confirm that “Mins” is an error. I also have a copy of a Missouri death certificate from 1920 for one of Al’s sisters (Helen Louise Pounds) listing her mother as “Mills” which adds extra proof supporting the “Mills” maiden name. It’s important to get the name straight for future research efforts. <br />
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Brenda also produced a small pile of photos of Al, Marie and his sisters. The only pictures of Al that I have seen were ones from my Mother’s baby shower in 1960. I was intensely curious to see what he looked like in the years following the divorce. Here are a couple of photos including Al and Marie during Christmas 1967, and then one of Al wrestling a bear, or at least pretending to. <br />
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What’s also exciting to me is the photo below of Al’s sisters. I know he came from a large family but I only had a few bits of information about his siblings. While no one could recall the maiden names of Al’s sisters, consensus around the table that evening was that two given names were Mary (second from left) and Marcie or Marcy (far right). There was also talk of a sister named "Kathleen", but no one could recall if she is in this photo. More pieces of the puzzle to work with! <br />
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A photo was also provided of Al and a brother named "Dewey" shown below. In this shot, Al is standing to the left, Dewey is in the center, and an unidentified man is standing to the right. It's possible that all three are brothers, since Al's birth certificate above clearly states he had 7 brothers and sisters at the time of his birth to include himself. James and Lora could have given birth to an eighth child, and these photos might be from a family reunion showing all eight children. Both Brenda and Carol mentioned that Al, Marie and the family made a trip to Toledo once to visit Al's immediate family, but they didn't know when and where these photos were snapped. Could these be images of my aunts and uncles taken during that trip? I hope I find out one day. <br />
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I was thoroughly captivated throughout the evening by the conversation of life with Al, his second wife Marie and the many family stories circulating around the table. I just sat back and tried to take it all in. As a professional researcher, note taking is my stock and trade. However, I managed to walk away from the dinner meeting with only a few scribbled remarks. I even tried to take a couple of photos of my newfound stepsiblings and friends, but botched that as well. I was so wrapped up in the discussions of the evening that I underestimated how dark the restaurant was. At least that gives me a great excuse to make a trip back to the St. Louis area some day! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>In spite of of my inability to produce coherent notes or even a visible photo of the evening, I did take away one fact from the get-together that didn’t require pen, paper or camera to remember. Eventhough Al struggled with his share of medical and personal issues, he nevertheless managed to surround himself with a loving family and to live a happy, productive life during his final ten years. I was even told he had a smile on his face after collapsing to the floor at a wedding while dancing to Jim Croce’s “Bad, Bad Leroy Brown.” Despite the best efforts of the bride (she was a nurse) and the other medical professionals in the crowd, he passed away. I do know from Brenda, Carol and Michael that Al loved to dance and was happiest when doing so. I suppose it's fair to say he went out doing what he loved, surrounded by those who loved him. What more could anyone ask for?Andrew Hairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05917621588415449089noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9156779058869621563.post-56231777844065903922011-04-10T21:16:00.000-06:002011-04-10T21:16:57.815-06:00Court Records and my $59.50 Adoption Revealed!Learning about one’s family history is full of ups and downs and usually full of a lot of fascinating discoveries. During the past two years of research, I have focused my family history and genealogy research on near and distant ancestors with a primarily interest on the dearly departed. Recently, however, my focus has been drawn to a curious and nagging subject that I vaguely remember, but one that has had a profound impact on my life—my adoption. I finally took a little time to research the court records that quite literally changed my name.<br />
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At times throughout my life, I have deviously mentioned being an “adopted child” when conversing in polite company. The reaction is usually predictable. In one form or another, most people will get around to asking what it was like growing up not knowing your parents. I generally smile and answer, “No, I know who my parents were.” I must confess, I enjoy letting the puzzled look linger on the their faces for a few seconds before explaining.<br />
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As I have mentioned in past posts, my birth father, Albert “Al” Hersel Pounds, left my mother and moved away when I was very young. A little over a year following the divorce, my mother married James D. Hair, who I proudly call “Dad”. Dad has always been there for me and is a great father! Throughout my life, I have had little desire to learn more about “Al”, mostly because I didn’t know him and was close to James. As a child, I talked to Al on the phone a couple of times and recall receiving only a few birthday cards over the years. He passed away when I was sixteen years old and that was pretty much the end of it for me.<br />
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Twelve years ago, while my mother was struggling with the cancer that would soon take her, she told me something that has stuck with me ever since that day. “Don’t be too hard on Al,” she calmly declared. At the time, I dismissed it given my mother’s illness. Sadly, she passed away on December 13, 1999, but Mom’s words have never left me. In her own way, I now realize she issued a challenge to not only learn more about Al, but indirectly to discover my heritage along the way. It took me nearly a dozen years to get the message, but I got it. <br />
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The family history and genealogy bug finally bit about two years ago. Through a fair amount of detective work, I discovered a stepsister and stepbrother from Al’s second marriage to Marie Augustine. Both have told me stories about Al that has significantly altered my understanding of him. I have learned that Al cared very much for me, and reluctantly signed away his parental rights. It was extremely painful for him, and was something his second family was keenly aware of. He knew he was effectively out of my life, and more importantly his health was rapidly failing. In fact, he passed away six years after my adoption. As I see it now, he did the right thing, and I respect him for it. <br />
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In all of this, I have tried to recall the circumstances surrounding the actual adoption process. While my memory is a bit foggy, I remember it taking place around age ten. Unfortunately, no family records containing the legal paperwork have survived, with perhaps the exception of my amended birth certificate. By the way, one of the fascinating aspects of my adoption is how the process legally erased Al as my father and substituted James. If unaware of the facts surrounding the adoption, and looking strictly at my “current” birth certificate, no one would be the wiser.<br />
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To finally put the “process” aspect of my adoption question to rest, I located the court that issued the adoption decree and ordered copies of all paperwork. It took a few calls and telephone transfers, but I landed at the desk of Barbara Stillings, Circuit Court Clerk of Christian County, in Ozark, Missouri. It took Barb a few hours, but she located my “case”, made copies and got them to me in a little over a week—all for $6. What a deal! Thank you, Barb. If I’ve learned nothing else from this, I need to focus a little more effort on court proceedings in my family history research. At least in this case, it was much easier than I anticipated. <br />
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The package I received contained a variety of documents outlining the adoption process from initial request to a final attempt by the county to collect on outstanding fees from my parent’s attorney. That letter mildly hinted the amended birth certificate would be held up pending payment. Obviously, the County received their fees. I have the birth certificate as proof. Incidentally, the fees paid to the County throughout the entire four-month process, to include filing the request, hearings and all that was recorded afterwards came to a whopping $59.50! Those were different times. I can scarcely imagine what something like it would cost today.<br />
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The package of mostly legal size documents also revealed that I had my own lawyer! I certainly don’t remember that. In what’s called a “Guardian Ad Litem” appointment, the court presented me with an attorney to represent my interests as the “defendant” while my parents became the “Plaintiff’s” or “Petitioners”, at least according the “Circuit Court Judges Docket”. The more I look at the documents prepared by <em>my</em> attorney, the more I wonder what kind of representation I actually got for $35! On top of it all, the fee was billed to my parents. Go figure. <br />
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The documents (as secondary sources) did provide helpful evidence concerning two dates I have been struggling to confirm—my mother’s wedding date to Al (June 21, 1958) and the date of their divorce (April 5, 1963). One document even contained the circuit court case number for the divorce. Armed with this new found information, I should be able to locate those documents, and learn more along the way in my upcoming visit to Springfield, Missouri.<br />
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The most fascinating part of the package to me is the summary document prepared by the caseworker tasked with investigating our family. I clearly remember a pleasant lady interviewing me and asking all sorts of probing questions as my parents stood nervously by in the next room at our home in Billings. In my 10-year-old mind at the time, I remember being a little puzzled by her questions and didn’t grasp the importance of it. I couldn’t understand what seemed to be obvious to me—we were one happy family. In my opinion, there was no doubt I wanted to be adopted and that it would be a good thing for all involved. Besides, I hated having to hyphenate my last name as “Pounds-Hair” and was tired of the taunting I received from my classmates. Fortunately, I was bigger than most who teased me a little too much, so it usually didn’t last long. <br />
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Eventually, the caseworker came to share my feelings about the pending adoption as well. As she stated in the “Adoptive Home Study” document filed on May 21, 1971:<br />
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<blockquote>I talked with Andrew Alan who feels that he very much wants to be adopted by Mr. Hair. He calls him Daddy and they apparently have a very close relationship. Mr. Hair is the Cub Scout manager and also is the coach for the baseball and basketball team that Andrew is on. It is very obvious that these two get along quite well and there seems to be no problem involved.</blockquote>She got that right! Moreover, I had completely forgotten how involved my Dad was with Cub Scouts and baseball. As for the basketball team, Dad was the head coach. My team had a very unique team name that I’ll never forget—the “Billings Wild Hairs.” We were pretty good too, but I’ll save that story for another blog post. <br />
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I was also drawn to the caseworker’s comments about my mother:<br />
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<blockquote>Sharon Kay Hair is 31 years old and is very young looking also. She has a very deep voice and has blond hair and blue eyes. They make a very attractive couple and Sharon is very much in favor of her husband wanting to adopt her son. She stated that while she doesn’t have a punitive toward Andrew’s father, she feels that it would be better if her husband were allowed to adopt the child since he has been more of a father to him than his own father.</blockquote>That statement helps clarify what I believe my mother was trying to express prior to her death twelve years ago. She apparently had no hard feeling towards Al after all. I missed that message back then, but with age, and a little documentation and reflection, I can now put things in the proper perspective. I never guessed it would take (among other things) a court document to help bring all this into focus.<br />
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In the end, I recall sitting on the witness stand one warm summer day, raising my right hand with my left one on the Bible, and swearing to tell the truth. It was actually big fun at the time, and the judge and court personnel were very pleasant. While approaching the witness stand, I distinctly remember spotting a $1 bill on the floor at the foot of the stand. I nervously asked the judge if it belonged to anyone and if I could keep it. He said yes. I have often wondered if that was staged for my benefit to help put me at ease. It probably was, and it worked. <br />
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Following the final hearing issuing the adoption decree on July 9, 1971 in Ozark, Missouri, my parents took me out for a hamburger and fries to celebrate. That was a real treat back then. I even got a new toy before the day was out! Most importantly, however, I was finally rid of the dreaded hyphenated last name. I was a “Hair” and it felt good. It still does.Andrew Hairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05917621588415449089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9156779058869621563.post-63989041976234102962011-04-03T21:30:00.000-06:002011-04-03T21:30:44.862-06:00Col. Harry E. Wright, M.D.: From Chasing Bandits on the Border to Finding a New Cousin!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JCvfM_Zp-7E/TZkvninnywI/AAAAAAAAAI8/WjT8Hyh2pA0/s1600/Keepin%2527+order+out+west%2521%2521.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" r6="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JCvfM_Zp-7E/TZkvninnywI/AAAAAAAAAI8/WjT8Hyh2pA0/s400/Keepin%2527+order+out+west%2521%2521.JPG" width="275" /></a></div><br />
I received a very welcomed email several weeks back from a person who, while conducting a Google search, came upon my blog post of June 7, 2010 titled: “Harry E. Wright – Chasing Bandits on the Border!” The person indicated that we may be related and introduced himself as Dick Wright of Falls Church, Virginia. It turns out he is the last son of Harry E. Wright’s second marriage to Alice Irene Heidland (b. 13 Jul 1914 d. 6 Aug 2006), making him my first cousin once removed! What a pleasant surprise! Dick, on the other hand, knew very little about his father’s youth and first marriage. Needless to say, we have been helping each other fill in the missing pieces of the fascinating life of Col. Harry Elbert Wright, M.D.<br />
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I had suspected for many years that Harry Wright passed away somewhere in the Virginia area. Family stories passed down to me by my maternal grandmother formed the basis for this belief. About a year ago I discovered an entry at the Veterans Administration National Gravesite Locator web site of an Air Force Medical Corps Colonel by the name of Harry Elbert Wright buried at Arlington National Cemetery. I couldn’t prove the connection, but it seemed like the Harry I was looking for. However, since “Harry Wright” is a fairly common name, I didn’t want to risk propagating questionable information in my family tree without definitive proof. Fortunately, Dick was able to confirm that the VA entry does indeed refer to his father. Mystery solved. <br />
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Dick was very young at the time of his father’s death, and he grew up never really knowing him that well, or his father’s first family for that matter—something I can certainly associate with.<br />
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As Dick explained in an email:<br />
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<blockquote>Here's what I have been told about my father: <br />
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His father [Henry E. Wright, b. 8 Jan 1874 d. 1 Apr. 1908] died of diphtheria shortly after passing the Bar Exam and he was left with his maternal grandparents--at what age I don't know. That is the last I have ever heard of his mom, my paternal grandmother.<br />
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He ran away to join the Army at age 15, having lied about his age to do so. (His headstone in Arlington National Cemetery gives his birth year as 1895, but I have always been led to believe that he was born in 1900.)<br />
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He served in Texas and was in on the Mexican Punitive Expeditionary Force which searched for Pancho Villa and his bunch.<br />
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While in the service as an enlisted man, he came to have an interest in medicine, left the Army and ended up in Baylor Medical School which at the time was in Dallas, I believe. It’s in Houston now. There was a Baylor yearbook around the house growing up. My brother may have it now. Anyway, he apparently got his M.D. in 1937, rather late in life. My mother told me that he worked three jobs while at Baylor—as handyman at the house where he resided (in exchange for lodging), testing the city’s milk supply and one other job I really cannot recall.<br />
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The details of his Army service and his life between Army gigs escape me now, but he ended up back in the Army as an officer, served as the Medical C.O. of the (original) hospital ship Comfort in the Pacific. (It was at this time that the Comfort took a kamikaze down one of its stacks, blowing out an OR and killing all in there.)<br />
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When I was about 2-3 years old, we were stationed in Atlanta, GA for a year. I was born in August of 1946, so I guess this was about 1949 or so. While there, my dad was recalled to D.C. and returned with a new Oldsmobile and a different uniform. He had been laterally transferred to the then-new US Air Force. He made O-6 while we were stationed at Ft. McPherson.<br />
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We returned to the Falls Church house when my dad was assigned to the Medical Review Board at the Pentagon. On February 11, 1952, he suffered a myocardial infarction, was taken to the Bolling AFB hospital where he died that evening.</blockquote>At least I was able to help Dick solve one mystery—when his father was born. According to family records and photos I have showing Harry’s birthday clearly written on them (presumably from his mother, Pearl), his date of birth was October 24, 1895. Additionally, Census records I have looked at show October of 1895 as well. That also tracks with the VA records associated with his burial at Arlington National Cemetery which documents the same date of birth in 1895. <br />
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Dick also generously sent a number of photos and document scans. The first one (at the beginning of this post) shows a young Sergeant Harry Wright somewhere in west Texas during his days chasing bandits along the border with Mexico. According to Dick, he was a mule inspector! That pose alone is worthy of a recruiting poster! <br />
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The two shots below show Harry on the deck of the U.S.S. <em>Comfort</em>. The back of the first photo has “1-20” written on it. If that stands for January 20, then it could be referring to January 20, 1945. Historical records indicate that the <em>Comfort</em> was commissioned in June of 1944, so that date (if it is a date) would be in line with Harry’s service on the ship. <br />
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The next scan highlights Col. Harry Wright’s pay card from 1949. That’s pretty decent pay for that time period, and certainly understandable for a senior Army physician! Notice it has his service serial number in the upper right hand corner. That’s the kind of information family history researchers dream about!<br />
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The next photo (below) shows Harry in what may be an early Air Force uniform, which in the early days for the Air Force was essentially an Army uniform. A close examination of the photo shows what may be full colonel's insignias, indicating Harry was in the Air Force at the time, referencing Dick's comments above. Since the blue uniform of the Air Force didn't come about until September 1, 1950, this photo was probably taken somewhere between April 1949 and September 1950. <br />
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Dick was even kind enough to provide an image of his father’s medical diploma from Baylor University in 1937 (below), which incidentally helped me learn of Harry’s middle given name—“Elbert”. All I had before was a middle initial. <br />
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The last shot below is of a very young Harry and his mother, Pearl (ca. 1896). While I have a number of photos of Pearl, this is a great one to add to the collection. <br />
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Thanks to my new found cousin, Dick Wright, I can lay to rest some of the more challenging mysteries about his father that I have tried to answer for years. Of course, now the urge to learn more is even greater than ever, I’m happy to announce. It’s an intense curiosity that family historians suffer from—one that even Dr. Harry E. Wright would struggle to cure!Andrew Hairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05917621588415449089noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9156779058869621563.post-78020392747294915042011-02-17T20:32:00.000-07:002011-02-17T20:32:54.551-07:00Rosa E. Morgan: Another Cousin and Rare Photo Discovered!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ATvvCCBpVSI/TV3ldlsji5I/AAAAAAAAAIg/G7hXlANmD3s/s1600/Morgan3Sisters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="317" j6="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ATvvCCBpVSI/TV3ldlsji5I/AAAAAAAAAIg/G7hXlANmD3s/s320/Morgan3Sisters.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
A few weeks back I was doing one of many Google searches examining my “Morgan” family line looking for anything I might have missed in a previous search. The connection I share to that branch of the family tree is through Rosa Emma Morgan, my great grandmother on my mother’s (Slack) side of the family. My search yielded a twelve year old post on a website from a person looking for information on some of the same ancestors I was searching for. Whenever I see something like that, I can’t help but wonder if I’m on the trail of an undiscovered relative.<br />
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I replied to the old post realizing that the past dozen years made it a long shot at best, and sure enough, the email came back as “undeliverable”. Taking a chance, I did another Google search just on the email address prefix (that part to the left of the “@” sign). When creating new email addresses, people often use familiar words and phrase for the first part of an address making the attempt worth a try. As it turned out the effort paid off! I found a newer email address with the same exact prefix, and the subject of this new search result concerned genealogical research. Good sign! From there, I shot off a preliminary email to the second address and back came a reply from my newest distant cousin, Darla Aytes of Oklahoma City, Oklahoma! The Internet just keeps making research better and better all the time.<br />
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After exchanging preliminary information, I found out that Darla descends from Rosa’s brother, Robert Lee Green Morgan (b. 22 Feb 1858 d. 24 Jan 1934). Robert was her maternal great grandfather. As a huge bonus, Darla shared a photo of Rosa Emma (shown above at top of post) with two of her sisters (from left to right)—Nancy Belle Morgan (b. 11 Mar 1868, d. 21 Jul 1956), Clara Jane Morgan (b. 1874, d. 19 Aug 1962) and Rosa Emma Morgan (b. 1 Nov 1878, d. 15 Jun 1937). This is only the second photo of Rose that I have ever seen. A fire in the 1920’s destroyed my great grandparent’s house along with much of Rosa’s keepsakes. What a discovery—thank you Darla!<br />
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Over the course of multiple emails, I also learned that Darla was traveling in the panhandle region of Florida. In an unrelated event, I had previously made her aware of another cousin I recently discovered, Kathryn Tilley of Destin, Florida. As it turned out, Darla was close by and wanted to meet her. After a few email exchanges, Kathryn and Darla were able to get together and share their research, thoughts and ideas. From that, I received a photo of both ladies (below, Kathryn left, Darla right). <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-a6mKYNigz3I/TV3mlp_m0oI/AAAAAAAAAIo/S8-nJeoB3gg/s1600/Kathryn+Tilley+and+Darla+Aytes+-+1+19+11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" j6="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-a6mKYNigz3I/TV3mlp_m0oI/AAAAAAAAAIo/S8-nJeoB3gg/s320/Kathryn+Tilley+and+Darla+Aytes+-+1+19+11.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I have come to appreciate my new cousin as a prolific and passionate amateur genealogist. Her work has provided new insight into the Morgan line of my family and some cool photos as well. In fact, she even provided a picture (below) of her great uncle and one of Rosa’s brothers— William Kinion Morgan (b. 29 Jun 1866, d. 26 Dec 1942) on the right of the photo, standing next to her mother’s father, James Thomas Grubb (b. 7 Sep 1878, d. 28 Oct 1959). <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wP5WFpYTa2U/TV3m-5sg9yI/AAAAAAAAAIs/wnxnMoMyVTw/s1600/James+Thomas+Grubb+and+Will+Morgan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" j6="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wP5WFpYTa2U/TV3m-5sg9yI/AAAAAAAAAIs/wnxnMoMyVTw/s320/James+Thomas+Grubb+and+Will+Morgan.jpg" width="227" /></a></div><br />
Darla even mentioned that it appears her grandfather James was wearing his “infamous toupee” in this ca. 1930’s photo. On second glance, I think she’s right! Honestly, I didn’t know they had toupees back then. That’s what I love about researching family history—you learn something new every day.Andrew Hairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05917621588415449089noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9156779058869621563.post-62287990277300017112011-01-23T17:39:00.000-07:002011-01-23T17:39:28.839-07:00The Daisy Mine and a Connection to John W. Slack Discovered<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KgnIcEe8RB8/TTy4OfsQ53I/AAAAAAAAAII/kQ-8dP45wyM/s1600/John+W.+Slack+Stamp+in+Diary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="166" s5="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KgnIcEe8RB8/TTy4OfsQ53I/AAAAAAAAAII/kQ-8dP45wyM/s400/John+W.+Slack+Stamp+in+Diary.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
A few days back I received a surprising email from Leslie Bergen of Thorold, Ontario, Canada. Leslie is located just outside St. Catherines about 15 minutes from Niagara Falls, New York. Leslie had been doing a Google search on John W. Slack and landed on my blog. Why she was searching for my great great grandfather completely floored me. Leslie had John W’s business stamp (shown above) in a small 1909 diary she purchased for $1 from an antiques store in Naples, New York about 30 years ago. She had been wondering for decades who the diary belonged to.<br />
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As Leslie’s email described it:<br />
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<blockquote>I have read it several times over the years due to the interesting entries. In the beginning, the author writes about getting and readying a gas engine for an experiment. Later on, we find out that the experiment was in trying to revive dead cats gotten from the pound and at least one live one that is killed to see if it can be revived. I've often wondered who the owner of this diary was but never searched it until today. I figured he was a lawyer as there are several entries about cases and also that he had something to do with mining. There is a stamp on the back of the diary so I decided to start there. I didn't know if it was the owners stamp or perhaps a company he did business with.<br />
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I did a google search of "W. Martin Jones", Missouri and found the following [web address below] "W. Martin Jones subsequently leased this property from the Daisy Company from August, 1907, to October 23, 1909, when fire destroyed the shaft buildings and the mine became flooded.” <br />
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<a href="http://thelibrary.springfield.missouri.org/lochist/history/paspres/ch3pt2.html">http://thelibrary.springfield.missouri.org/lochist/history/paspres/ch3pt2.html</a> <br />
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I checked the diary I had for October entries and sure enough found where the fire is mentioned. I then knew that the diary I have belonged to W. Martin Jones. I then searched further and found HIS father and found that he was an associate of Abraham Lincoln's when he was younger. This is getting more interesting by the moment.</blockquote><blockquote>There are numerous entries regarding John W. Slack. Jones received a telegram from Slack on Oct. 29th notifying him of the fire. Slack then resigns three days later (Nov. 2). After that (Nov. 13), they meet for dinner and agree on how much is owed Slack. John W. Slack is then mentioned many more times, in passing. </blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">The following are pages from the diary of W. Martin Jones meticulously documenting his daily activities (courtesy of Leslie Bergen):</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> Entries from October 25 - October 30, 1909</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Entries from October 31, 1909 to November 5, 1909</div><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">Entries from November 12 - November 17, 1909</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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I have learned from my cousin Jim Slack that our 2nd great grandfather, John W. Slack, Sr. was in the mining business, and he got his start from his father-in-law and my 3rd great grandfather James Morgan of Springfield, Missouri. As it turns out, W. Martin Jones was John's employer in 1909.<br />
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A short Internet search revealed additional information on the Daisy mining operation and W. Martin Jones involvement. The Missouri Bureau of Mines and Mine Inspection publication, <em>Embracing Reports on Coal, Lead, Zinc and other Mines</em>, December 31, 1909 (<a href="http://books.google.com/books?pg=PP9&lpg=RA1-PA97&dq=%22w.%20martin%20jones%22%20daisy%20mine&sig=34ZbyQfMQ2Le1dWBfDxGQ8SXRCU&ei=j2c7TauLI4XagAfB6cX_CA&ct=result&id=HCwAAAAAMAAJ&ots=brclcN9i91&output=text">http://books.google.com/books?pg=PP9&lpg=RA1-PA97&dq=%22w.%20martin%20jones%22%20daisy%20mine&sig=34ZbyQfMQ2Le1dWBfDxGQ8SXRCU&ei=j2c7TauLI4XagAfB6cX_CA&ct=result&id=HCwAAAAAMAAJ&ots=brclcN9i91&output=text</a>) reported: <br />
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<blockquote>The Rathburn Mining Company of Springfield, Mo., is incorporated under the laws of the State of Delaware for $400,000. W. Martin Jones is president of the company, C. J. Page secretary, and Melvin Stephens, treasurer. The company controls under first lease and operates 65 acres of land, located in sections 35 and 36, of township 29, range 21, the land being owned in fee by the Daisy Mining and Milling Company. The Rathburn Company is also a sublessee of 20 acres of the Morgan Estate. The operating' company has upon its lease a concentrating mill, with daily capacity of 100 tons. Its mining machinery is ample for treating ore, and fourteen miners and seven top and mill men are employed in ore production on the land. Considerable drilling and development work was engaged in by the company during the year. The mine was operated 200 days during the year, and 100 days were devoted to development work.</blockquote>The 1909 Bureau of Mines report tantalizingly mentions that the Rathburn Company is "a sublessee of 20 acres of the Morgan Estate.” Is this a reference to James Morgan? That will require more research, to include locating property records connecting James to the Daisy lease, but it sounds plausible. <br />
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To add perspective, I also found a plat map on line showing the Daisy Tract, located in Southeast Greene County:<br />
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I will be visiting Springfield, Missouri in a few months and definitely plan on researching this further. A search of the newspaper(s) of the time will probably shed more light on the subject, especially the Daisy Mine fire and flood. <br />
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I want to shout out a big “THANK YOU” to Leslie Bergen for sharing her diary and offering new insights into the life of John W. Slack, Sr.Andrew Hairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05917621588415449089noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9156779058869621563.post-73516285273185631832011-01-09T16:40:00.000-07:002011-01-09T16:40:35.303-07:00Deer Hunting in the Missouri Ozarks—A Slack Family Tradition<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KgnIcEe8RB8/TSo1BXFBq5I/AAAAAAAAAH8/mEm0Xa-NNik/s1600/Ellsworth+W.+Slack+with+Deer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KgnIcEe8RB8/TSo1BXFBq5I/AAAAAAAAAH8/mEm0Xa-NNik/s320/Ellsworth+W.+Slack+with+Deer.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><br />
As far back as I can remember deer hunting has been a major part of the Slack family tradition in Southwest Missouri. The patriarch of the maternal side of my family, Ellsworth Woodrow Slack (b. 16 March 1914, d. 4 March 1996) shown above with a trophy buck taken in the late 1940’s or early 1950’s, was the undisputed pack leader when it came to the annual hunt based out of his humble little cabin in Taney County, Missouri. While my grandfather is no longer with us, the changing of the leaves and the first crisp breeze of fall still reminds me of his favorite time of the year, and the many deer hunting stories he loved telling anyone who would listen. Ellsworth loved fishing, but he lived for deer hunting.<br />
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Little known outside the family is that Ellsworth was quite accomplished at his favorite sport. Back in November 1994 the <em>Missouri Conservationist</em> published an article by Joan McKee titled: “Open Season, Nov. 3&4, 1944”, on the history of deer hunting in Missouri. My grandfather was one of the contributors to that article and provided the following on his first deer hunt that fall:<br />
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<blockquote>I hunted the first deer season in Missouri and killed a nice eight-point buck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have bought tags and hunted every year since.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also bow hunted some years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Old age has caught up with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am 80 years old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess it is time to hang up my rifle and watch the deer run through the back yard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyone who has not deer hunted does not know what they have missed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I killed my first buck near Cedar Creek and the last one in my back yard.</blockquote><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">As the <em>Missouri Conservationist</em> article went on to say, Ellsworth Slack was one of the successful hunters that first season in 1944. Only about 8 percent of those who purchased tags or 583 hunters out of 7,557 managed to take a deer that year. </div><br />
Ellsworth was also quoted in an article by Brent Frazee published in the <em>Kansas City Star</em>, on November 13, 1994. The article, entitled, “Recalling deer hunts of 50 years” began with:<br />
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<blockquote>No one had to draw Ellsworth Slack a picture. He knew what a deer looked like. Or at least he thought he did.<br />
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Before he walked into the woods on that cold day in 1944, Slack had never even seen one. He just had a rough idea of what the creature looked like, through photos in magazines and books. <br />
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But in his eyes, that air of mystery only added to the excitement surrounding Missouri’s first deer season.<br />
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“You have to understand what it was like back in those days,” said Slack, 80 of Kissee Mills, Mo. “There weren’t deer everywhere like there are now. Deer were few and far between. <br />
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“It was a big deal if you just saw tracks back then. If you saw a deer, you were really something.<br />
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“To be able to go out and hunt them, that was a big deal for us. It was a season I’ll never forget.” <br />
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Other hunters share that felling of nostalgia. As Missouri celebrates its golden anniversary of deer hunting, only a few can say that they were there from the start. <br />
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Even fewer can claim the success that Slack did. As he sat in the ravine deep in the Ozarks that first season, he watched his dream materialize. <br />
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“There were a lot of hunters out, but no one knew what they were doing. Deer hunting was new to us,” he said. “Everybody was out in the woods tromping around, just hoping to kick one out. I decided to just stay put.”<br />
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“Pretty soon, a guy on the other side of the hill jumped one up and I looked up and saw it running straight toward me, really carrying the mail.<br />
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“I had to look real close to make sure it was a deer. I shot and had an eight-point buck in the first 30 minutes of the season.”<br />
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Slack has hunted every year since and has enjoyed many memorable days in the woods. He has watched Missouri’s deer herd grow to the point where he can literally hunt in his backyard in the Ozarks and stand a chance of shooting a big buck. <br />
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But no experience was more special for Slack than the first time out. <br />
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‘I’ve still got he horns from that first deer hanging on the wall,” Slack said. “I wanted something to remember that deer by.”</blockquote>One of the more interesting things Ellsworth Slack didn’t mention in the <em>Kansas City Star</em> article was the sheer volume of gunfire in the woods during those first few deer seasons—especially automatic weapons fire! He wasn’t sure what a lot of the hunters were shooting at during those early seasons, but there was plenty of machine gun fire mixed in with regular rifle shots. My grandfather used to love to recall the unnerving sound of rapid-fire weapons that permeated the air back in those early days. No doubt the result of GI’s who spirited home souvenirs following World War II. Those first few deer seasons were a little scary for my grandfather, so he tried not to move around much for fear of being shot!<br />
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Another little known fact of my grandfather’s hunting prowess is that he held the record for the largest buck taken in Taney County up to 1950. The article below, from the <em>Springfield Leader and Press</em>, November 29, 1950 chronicles that achievement:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KgnIcEe8RB8/TSo4mz5qoII/AAAAAAAAAIA/SAcbUOVGWWY/s1600/E.W.+Slack%2527s+Lots+of+Points+-+11+29+50.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" n4="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KgnIcEe8RB8/TSo4mz5qoII/AAAAAAAAAIA/SAcbUOVGWWY/s640/E.W.+Slack%2527s+Lots+of+Points+-+11+29+50.jpg" width="443" /></a></div><br />
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One of my proudest possessions is the set of horns from that 1950 deer hunt (photo below). My grandfather mounted the horns on a board and positioned it above the fireplace at his cabin where it remained for many years. Invariably, every deer season, he would recount the story of bagging that buck near the Pilot Mountains in Taney County. With most of my Grandfather’s stories that one got more colorful each time it was told, but it’s one of the things that made it so special. <br />
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In those early years when deer were scarce, Ellsworth talked about the creatures as if they were ghosts. I came to understand what he meant, because in the 1960’s and early 1970’s when I was a boy, deer were still a challenge to find. Whenever we did see one it became the topic of conversation for many days. With that, strategy and a healthy dose of patience was a must in hunting deer, and Ellsworth passionately preached both.<br />
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My grandfather taught me how to track deer and what to expect when hunting them. He was, as the <em>Kansas City Star</em> article implied, a classic “ambush” hunter in every sense of the word. The only way to hunt deer, in his opinion, was to study when and where they traveled, and find the best location to sit and wait. As far as he was concerned, let the other hunters in the woods stomp around and scare up the deer. Sit tight and a deer is bound to happen by sooner or later. It was a great strategy, and the way we always hunted, but sitting patiently in freezing weather waiting for deer that may not come along takes some serious motivation! <br />
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I also believe Ellsworth had a more practical reason for sitting and waiting for the dear to amble by—it was safer, especially when it came to teaching his grandchildren how to hunt. The magic age to deer hunt with my grandfather was 11. I have no idea why he picked that age, but he was adamant about it. <br />
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As a youngster, the first few years of deer hunting with my grandfather were quite an education. He would start off his pupil with a .20 gauge single-shot shotgun and lot’s of instruction. The budding hunter had to prove that the weapon could be safely handled (he was rightly big on safety) and accurately fired. I personally believe that it was around age 11 that my cousins and I stopped fearing the roar and kick of that shotgun, at least enough to actually hit what we were aiming at!<br />
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Most of my experience hunting with my grandfather actually happened during my college years. I usually took the 4-day SMSU break in October to go bow hunting with him. Ellsworth loved to bow hunt during that time of the year, because the weather was usually more agreeable. Together, we had a lot of fun, even though we weren’t very productive hunters. Neither one of us was particularly good with a bow. <br />
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The average hunting day with my grandfather generally started around 4:00 a.m. with a cup of coffee and a hearty breakfast. After bundling up for a day of shivering (sometimes it seemed that way), we would grope around in the dark on our way to our appointed deer stand. That was one of the advantages to hunting in what was essentially my grandfather’s back yard. He had hundreds of acres of forested land—some private, some public surrounding his little cabin. I grew up familiarizing myself with the trails that snaked through the “hills and hollers” around his cabin, at least enough to find my way around in the dark.<br />
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Incidentally, Ellsworth didn’t care to hunt out of a tree or elevated stand, so he would individually place each person in the hunting party on their appointed stand, usually up against a tree and next to a trail. He felt that hunting from an elevated stand was not sporting, and far too easy. He liked to get up close to the deer and rarely hunted in or around an open field.<br />
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Ellsworth loved to track and analyze how deer moved around the woods. I fondly recall countless hours of tactical hunting conversation and instructional walks in the woods prior to the opening days of a number of deer seasons. He would frequently emphasize how acute their senses are and how difficult the challenge is in getting close to them. He also showed me how to read their tracks as well. <br />
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Interestingly, my grandfather didn’t care for using a rifle with a telescopic sight on it. He couldn’t see the advantage of using one other than hunting in an open area. As far as he was concerned, unless the hunter was a great shot, then the chances were high that the deer could be wounded and die hidden in the brush. Ellsworth felt strongly that losing a wounded deer was tantamount to a sin, and he would tell that, in his normal animated fashion, to anyone who cared to listen.<br />
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During any given hunting day, we would typically sit on “our stand” until lunchtime unless we got off a shot. My grandfather believed that once a shot rang out or an arrow let loose, it was time to relocate, because the deer would be scared away for many hours. There was no doubt some truth to that, but nevertheless it was the way we hunted.<br />
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Around noon, my grandfather would quietly reappear out of the brush, and we would sit down to wonderful homemade sandwiches and other goodies lovingly packed by my grandmother. Oddly enough, even though we made a lot of noise eating, we would usually whisper or talk in very low tones. No telling what might walk by! Ellsworth had his rules, and we followed them. If we were close to the cabin, then we would walk back to a wonderful lunch courtesy of my grandmother Louise Slack. However, after one of her wonderful meals, it was tough to get off the couch and wonder back into the woods! <br />
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Hunting with my grandfather was another occasion to combine our other mutual hobby—radio. Ellsworth was a passionate amateur and citizens band radio enthusiast, and he passed the hobby on to me! Back in the late 1970’s and early 1980’s we would enter the woods armed with, among other things—citizen’s band radios! We each carried a bulky hand-held, battery-operated walkie-talkie with a small earplug jammed in our ears. Like clockwork, every thirty minutes throughout the hunting day, I would briefly turn on my radio and give my grandfather a short, whispered situation report. He would do likewise along with a few quiet words of encouragement—he was always optimistic that the next trophy was heading our way. Additionally, since he was usually nearby, reception was generally not a problem. We may not have enhanced our chances of seeing a deer while chatting on the radio, but we both came to enjoy that part of the hunt as much as the hunt itself. <br />
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With age, as Ellsworth Slack mentioned in the <em>Missouri Conservationist</em> article, he slowly converted from hunting deer to mostly observing them from his front window and back porch. He became a passionate advocate for conversation practices (at least within his family) and was a staunch supporter of hunter education and safety. I learned a lot from my grandfather through our deer hunting expeditions and attribute a great deal of my love for nature and the outdoors to him.Andrew Hairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05917621588415449089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9156779058869621563.post-2742775457718337852010-11-11T21:50:00.000-07:002010-11-11T21:50:02.124-07:00John Wesley Slack: The "W" Mystery Solved and a New Cousin Found!Once in a while my enthusiasm for family history collides with a limited amount of research time. That occasionally results in an unfortunate error or two. So it goes with my great grandfather on my mother's side of the family--John W. Slack. In a blog post a few months ago, I erroneously listed his middle given name as “William” thinking I had figured out what the “W” stood for. A few weeks afterwards, I found his correct middle name. How did I manage that? As luck would have it, his death certificate was recently published on-line on a new website I happened to be searching one day. While I have been a little slow to post this discovery (blame it on work), allow me to set the record straight. <br />
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Thanks to the recently established Family Search Beta Site, John W. Slack’s death certificate can be viewed at the following web address:<br />
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<a href="https://beta.familysearch.org/s/recordDetails/show?uri=http%3A%2F%2Fpilot.familysearch.org%2Frecords%2Ftrk%3A%2Ffsrs%2Frr_16576939%2Fp1&hash=HloWXpZgU9zB10k5M56iYku8TUc%253D">https://beta.familysearch.org/s/recordDetails/show?uri=http%3A%2F%2Fpilot.familysearch.org%2Frecords%2Ftrk%3A%2Ffsrs%2Frr_16576939%2Fp1&hash=HloWXpZgU9zB10k5M56iYku8TUc%253D</a><br />
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You do have to establish a free account and sign in to see the actual certificate, but it doesn’t take long. From the Family Search site, I was able download John W's death certificate (below) and discover his full name, (at least according to this document)—John Wesley Slack. Well, there you have it, and it's more than I had before!<br />
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This document also helps put to bed another mystery I couldn't solve, and that's where John W. died. I had assumed he lived out his final days in Springfield, Missouri, but was unsure. It turns out he passed away at “Doyle's Convalescent Home” in Dallas, Texas, and the informant on the death certificate was his third son, Garland Slack. However, he was buried in Springfield along side his wife Rosa, who passed away in 1937. There is one error on the certificate to be aware of. It lists his “Mother’s Maiden Name” as “Rosie Morgan”. Rosa (Rosie) Emma Morgan was his wife, not his mother. <br />
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I shared this information with my cousin Jim Slack a several weeks back, and to my surprise, he was subsequently able to find and contact Garland's grandson, John Slack. In an interesting twist of fate, it turns out they live close to each other in the Dallas/Ft. Worth, Texas area. What a small world! Needless to say, I was excited to contact my newest cousin, John and learn more about John Wesley, Garland, and that branch of the Slack family. <br />
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We had a long chat and came up with some great blog ideas for the future, to include his father's distinguished Korean War service and his grandfather's first-hand account of the assignation of John F. Kennedy. The latter topic is a post I have been planning for months and will hopefully publish soon, so stayed tuned!<br />
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In the meantime, Jim Slack has graciously shared the following photo (below) of John Wesley's grave marker at the Danforth Cemetery in Springfield, Missouri taken in 1959.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KgnIcEe8RB8/TNzC6zXy29I/AAAAAAAAAH0/PsWSRw75-XM/s1600/John+and+Rosie+Slack+Grave+-+Jun+1959.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="278" px="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KgnIcEe8RB8/TNzC6zXy29I/AAAAAAAAAH0/PsWSRw75-XM/s400/John+and+Rosie+Slack+Grave+-+Jun+1959.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
With that, the last task is to amend my previous posts containing the erroneous version of John Wesley Slack's name. That will be done soon. As always, I encourage all readers to comment on this or any post in order to add to the discussion. Together, the story that is the “Slack Family” (and all my family lines for that matter) will be told. I look forward to it!Andrew Hairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05917621588415449089noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9156779058869621563.post-24448417076409657032010-09-08T20:39:00.000-06:002010-09-08T20:39:10.926-06:00Jose Luis Sanchez - Chicano Stories: From the Heart of El Paso and Juarez<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KgnIcEe8RB8/TIVl5nT5e5I/AAAAAAAAAHo/VKgAJgXF0zo/s1600/detail_9325941.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" ox="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KgnIcEe8RB8/TIVl5nT5e5I/AAAAAAAAAHo/VKgAJgXF0zo/s200/detail_9325941.jpg" width="151" /></a></div>I am fortunate to have a father-in-law who not only loves to tell stories, but is equally interested in writing them down. For many years now, Jose Luis Sanchez of El Paso, Texas has been putting pen to paper recording the stories of his youth, family, history, politics and generally musing about anything that grabs his attention. He has a very unique way of presenting the nuances of everyday life in short essays that make for light-hearted and downright fun reading. <br />
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His latest work, <em>Chicano Stories: From the Heart of El Paso and Juarez</em>, is a collection of his distinctive essays that are definitely worth checking out. Currently, the book is in digital download form on the self-publishing Web site, Lulu. The web address to the book is: <a href="http://www.lulu.com/product/ebook/chicano-stories/12482643?productTrackingContext=search_results/search_shelf/center/1">http://www.lulu.com/product/ebook/chicano-stories/12482643?productTrackingContext=search_results/search_shelf/center/1</a> <br />
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It’s my understanding there will be a paperback edition of the book coming in the future. Keep checking the Lulu Web site for more details if you prefer a paper version. In the meantime, here is an excerpt from <em>Chicano Stories</em> that describes a performance of the “Passion Play” with a rather unexpected ending. Enjoy! <br />
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<blockquote><strong>Jesus loses his cool</strong><br />
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I took my youngest son and grandson to witness the yearly passion re-enactment play at the Santa Lucia church grounds when they were about seven years old. <br />
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Jesus was played by a young looking fair skinned man and he looked the part, long hair and beard. He was carrying the cross a short way to his make believe crucifixion but the cross was a little on the heavy side so he struggled a bit.<br />
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The Roman Centurion played by a hefty dark parishioner followed with his soldier’s uniform and stringy whip which he started to lash on Jesus’ back.<br />
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It seemed like the Roman was taking his role too serious and the whip started to annoy Jesus. Jesus started to look back after every lashing trying so say something but the soldier kept up his incessant beating. <br />
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Finally Jesus turned and yelled in barrio Spanish; “ya cortale buey”, but the soldier responded “aguanta”, “no te rajes”.<br />
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Suddenly, Jesus discarded the cross and proceeded to scuffle with his tormentor. The parish priest jumped into the fracas and looked more like a referee in a boxing match and soon many in the congregation were trying to hold Jesus away from the Roman soldier.<br />
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An overweight lady playing the part of Mary Magdalene had the Roman soldier in a fierce headlock. <br />
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My kids were on Jesus’ side and wanted to stay and see the fight but I grabbed them and took off for the car then to McDonald’s for a happy meal so they could forget what they had just seen. <br />
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Perhaps this is the way history should have ended 2000 years ago. <br />
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Jose Luis Sanchez </blockquote>Andrew Hairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05917621588415449089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9156779058869621563.post-71545299629265184812010-09-03T22:55:00.000-06:002010-09-03T22:55:39.623-06:00Rosa Emma (Morgan) Slack – A Rare Photograph!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KgnIcEe8RB8/TIHMrKV30bI/AAAAAAAAAHI/nqtzlIWsk1M/s1600/Rose+Slack+1935+age+56.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" ox="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KgnIcEe8RB8/TIHMrKV30bI/AAAAAAAAAHI/nqtzlIWsk1M/s400/Rose+Slack+1935+age+56.jpg" width="275" /></a></div><br />
For many months now, I have wondered if I would ever see a photo of my maternal Great Grandmother, Rosa Emma Slack. According to family members I have talked to, they didn’t know of any. A contributing factor to the lack of photos of the Slack family may be a fire that destroyed a portion of John William and Rosa’s home.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>According to Kathryn Ann Whitehead Tilley, of Destin Florida (another new cousin), her mother (Ruth Kathryn Slack Whitehead) recounted some of the details of the fire. As Kathryn recalls: <br />
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<blockquote>Mother said John and Ellsworth ran out in only their nightshirts. My mother and father were already married at the time, but Mother lost a fur coat and other clothes stored there in the fire. The fire started from the wood stove [used] for heat. [There was] no electricity yet at that time out in the country just off East Sunshine. </blockquote><br />
Kathryn also believes the fire destroyed a significant quantity of photos and other personal possessions. <br />
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Fortunately, at least one photograph survived the decades and recently came to my attention. Thanks to my new found cousin, Linda Carter Wirz, I can now share an image of Rosa! The photo above is Rose sitting on the porch of her home in Springfield, Missouri in 1935. She was 56 at the time.<br />
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Linda also graciously provided a shot of Rosa’s husband John W. Slack (below), taken in 1948 at Aunt Monday’s house in Springfield. I just learned that “Monday” was the nickname of Amanda Jane (Slack) Mauch, John and Rosa’s oldest daughter. By the way, that’s only the third photo of I have ever seen of my great grandfather. <br />
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To round out this presentation, I will offer one from my collection that I have had for many years. The photo below shows my Grandfather Ellsworth W. Slack (right) and his next oldest brother John W. Slack Jr. standing on the same porch that Rosa was photographed. Given their ages, this shot was probably snapped sometime in the late 1920’s. <br />
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I imagine that porch was where everyone in the family had their pictures taken at one time or another. In fact, later in his life, my grandfather would typically have all his children and grandchildren line up for mandatory family photographs on, you guessed it—front porches. I suppose it’s possible this shows a family tradition in the making!Andrew Hairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05917621588415449089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9156779058869621563.post-90043136477124666702010-08-31T23:13:00.000-06:002010-08-31T23:13:08.242-06:00Sharon Kay Slack - A Tribute to Mom!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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Today is a special day that I remember fondly each and every year—it's my mother’s birthday! Sharon Kay (Slack) Hair (b. Aug 31, 1939 d. Dec 13, 1999) would have been 71, but sadly she passed away nearly 11 years ago following a long struggle with cancer.<br />
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Mom was a fiercely dedicated and supportive lady who would stand in front of a freight train if that’s what it took to protect her children! She was one of those people who simply had a presence about her, or as a cousin of mine recently said, and aptly put it: “she was a force of nature”. Despite her tough persona, my mother was a kind and generous soul who liked a good party and engaging in great conversation with friends and family. She could really talk, and I enjoyed listening. <br />
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Mom taught both my brother and I to stand up for ourselves and never even consider giving up. I fondly recall, prior to suiting-up for football games, her enthusiastic recital of her favorite line from Pat O’Brien in the 1940 movie, <em>Knute Rockne All American</em>: “Hit ‘em hard, hit ‘em low, and if they get back up, hit ‘em again”. I even remember her belting that out prior to a few baseball games! Needless to say, I could always count on her to be the loudest cheerleader at my sporting events no matter how poorly I played. <br />
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She also pushed me along in school as well, especially when I struggled with a particular subject or teacher. In fact, Mom took parent/teacher days as serious as a diplomat approaching a foreign peace negotiation. It was amazing how many concessions she would win. When I decided to put off graduate school to go directly into the Army after completing SMSU, she threw a major fit. I was to continue my education, and that was that. Her children were going to get advanced degrees (we both did) no questions asked! After a feeble attempt at arguing with her, I realized resistance was futile. I gave in and am thankful I did. <br />
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While I didn’t always agree or even understand Mom—what child ever does—I am truly grateful to have had such a caring mother. I wish she didn’t have to suffer as much during her final days, but she’s no doubt in a better place. I miss her and think of her often. <br />
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In tribute to Mom, I have included her Parkview High School graduation photo from 1957. She really liked this one, but wouldn’t readily admit it. She was humble in that way. I do plan on writing more posts in the future highlighting my amazing mother, but for now—happy birthday, Mom!<br />
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Andrew Hairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05917621588415449089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9156779058869621563.post-12966943205618194692010-08-29T14:03:00.000-06:002010-08-29T14:03:01.262-06:00Manuel Almeida Martinez – “A Bottle of Tequila….”<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The following is an article written for the Bustamante family reunion by my Father-in-Law, Jose Luis Sanchez of El Paso, Texas. It was originally published on May 27, 2000 for the reunion held in El Paso. This is a fascinating story of how Jose Luis’ grandfather, Manuel Almeida Martinez (photo above taken circa 1912), escaped almost certain death at the hands of the Mexican army during the time of Pancho Villa. Besides, with a title including “tequila”--it’s got to be an attention getter! Enjoy. </div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">(Click on the article to enlarge)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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Andrew Hairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05917621588415449089noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9156779058869621563.post-78525081509798980572010-08-28T17:11:00.000-06:002010-08-28T17:11:51.414-06:00John William & Rosa Emma Slack – The Family Bible<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I recently had the privilege of talking to another newly found cousin—Jim Slack of Keller, Texas. While I was excited to meet a new cousin, I was also eager to discuss a package loaded with genealogical information that he mailed to my Grandfather Ellsworth W. Slack way back in 1995. I inherited the package when my mother passed away over ten years ago, but didn’t really pay much attention to it until I start researching my roots. Jim’s package contains many research gems that have helped me learn more about the Slack side of my family for the better part of two years now. </div><a name='more'></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It all started when I located a telephone number for one of Mary J. Carter’s sons several weeks ago, Joe Carter of Nixa, Missouri. Joe directed me to his sister, Linda Rose Carter Wirz of Verona, Missouri for more information about the family. Linda emailed her cousin Kathryn Ann Whitehead Tilley of Destin, Florida who in turn contacted me. In talking to Kathryn I learned that she happened to know Jim and his phone number. It was either good fortune or dumb luck that finally took hold, but in the course of a few days, many months of fruitless detective work boiled down to the discovery of a key bit of information that cracked the mystery. Doesn’t it usually work that way? </div><br />
As it turns out, Jim is the grandson of James Earl Slack (b. Nov 2, 1899 d. Nov 2 1993) who was one of Ellsworth’s older brothers. Jim has been interested in his Slack ancestors for many years, and both he and his wife prepared the information my grandfather received in the mail. I have learned many tidbits and interesting Slack family facts from Jim, but one of the most exciting discoveries came during our first call--I found out that our Great Grandmother Rose E. Slack’s Bible still exists, and he has it! <br />
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According to Jim, the bible isn’t in the best shape (missing a cover and publication information), but it does contain her children’s births, one death (Amos Dee Slack) and a three marriages. One of those marriages was Ellsworth’s. What a find! I had been searching for that one for months. It's written in pencil at the bottom of the "Marriages" page. The scanned bible images below were graciously provided by Jim Slack. <br />
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<div align="center">(Click on the images to enlarge)</div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KgnIcEe8RB8/THmO5FfwzwI/AAAAAAAAAGI/XfixnZSXCSc/s1600/Marriages+in+Rose+Slack%27s+Bible.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" ox="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KgnIcEe8RB8/THmO5FfwzwI/AAAAAAAAAGI/XfixnZSXCSc/s400/Marriages+in+Rose+Slack%27s+Bible.jpg" width="305" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KgnIcEe8RB8/THmMZbfXTSI/AAAAAAAAAGA/L29AqfkcLlc/s1600/John+W.+%26+Rose+Slack+Marriage+in+Bible.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" ox="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KgnIcEe8RB8/THmMZbfXTSI/AAAAAAAAAGA/L29AqfkcLlc/s400/John+W.+%26+Rose+Slack+Marriage+in+Bible.jpg" width="282" /></a></div><br />
I was initially drawn to the bible entry showing the marriage of John W. Slack and Rosa Emma Morgan for two reasons. First, I didn’t have a clue when they were married. Problem solved. Second, it helped me discover that I mistakenly listed Rosa’s name as “Rose Emily” in my family tree documentation. Consider it corrected! With this information, I will update my previous post to this blog that introduced John William & "Rose Emily" (Morgan) Slack. That’s the nature of family research—sometimes mistakes happen.<br />
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As an interesting aside, take a look at Rosa’s name on her death certificate (below) in 1937.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KgnIcEe8RB8/THiEvBFdE4I/AAAAAAAAAFo/zKhe54cjeW8/s1600/Rosa+E.+Slack+Death+Certificate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" ox="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KgnIcEe8RB8/THiEvBFdE4I/AAAAAAAAAFo/zKhe54cjeW8/s400/Rosa+E.+Slack+Death+Certificate.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">It’s possible the person recording the information on the death certificate heard and subsequently wrote “Rosie”, when James Earl Slack (the informant) said “Rose E.” No doubt her son and many family members called her “Rose”. Given the poor penmanship, it’s also likely the recorder of the certificate was hurrying through the process and not paying close attention. We’ll never know. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>Thanks to Jim, Joe, Linda and Kathryn for all their help! I look forward to many more conversations and fascinating family stories. <br />
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</div>Andrew Hairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05917621588415449089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9156779058869621563.post-8275329395516562842010-08-21T22:53:00.004-06:002010-08-28T17:30:45.526-06:00John William & Rosa Emma (Morgan) Slack – A Portrait of the ChildrenI have been fortunate in the past week to connect with distance relatives of the “Slack” side of my family I have never met or talked to before. One telephone call was all it took to start a cascade of emails, address exchanges and phone numbers I am still happily sorting through and recording. No doubt more posts will result from it in the future.<br />
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During discussions with my new-found relatives, I came to realize there are a couple of photos in my possession that may be of interest to many of the Slack’s who descended from my Great Grandparents - John William Slack (b. Nov 23, 1873 d. 1959) and Rosa Emma Morgan (b. Nov 1, 1878 d. Jun 17, 1937) of Springfield, Missouri. John and Rose had nine children, the youngest being my maternal grandfather, Ellsworth Woodrow Slack. <br />
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The first photo (below) is the only one I have of John William Slack. Unfortunately, I don't have a photograph of Rosa. The picture below shows John W. Slack Sr. in the middle flanked by Ellsworth to his right and John William Slack Jr. to his left. All are proudly showing off their catch from a successful fishing trip. The photo was processed in 1955 in Springfield, Missouri, and I think may been taken in my Grandfather’s backyard. I know from my Grandfather Ellsworth that the family loved to fish, and would do so whenever they had the opportunity. I have lived a life full of listening to his “fish” stories, and have even made a few myself! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KgnIcEe8RB8/THCop-62XyI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/JD8UCRRfmr4/s1600/The+Slack%27s+and+Catfish+-+May+1955.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" ox="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KgnIcEe8RB8/THCop-62XyI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/JD8UCRRfmr4/s400/The+Slack%27s+and+Catfish+-+May+1955.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
The second photograph (below) is courtesy of my Aunt Sarah (Slack) Niday, or “Sally” as I have always called her. This is a wonderful group photo of all the Slack children taken in the late 1920's or early 1930’s, presumably in Springfield, Missouri. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KgnIcEe8RB8/THCpDsnNb-I/AAAAAAAAAFY/3mOk31CsfI4/s1600/Ellsworth+Slack+Brothers+and+Sisters+Low+Res.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KgnIcEe8RB8/THCpDsnNb-I/AAAAAAAAAFY/3mOk31CsfI4/s400/Ellsworth+Slack+Brothers+and+Sisters+Low+Res.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<u>Back Row, from left to right</u>:<br />
James Earl Slack (b. Nov 2, 1899 d. Nov 2, 1993)<br />
Amos Dee Slack (b. 1903, d. ?)<br />
Garland Glenwill Slack (b. May 9, 1904 d. Aug 31, 1978)<br />
John William Slack Jr. (b. Jun 15, 1912 d. Jan 4, 1992)<br />
Ellsworth Woodrow Slack (b. Mar 16, 1914 d. Mar 4, 1996)<br />
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<u>Front Row, from left to right</u>:<br />
Amanda Jane (Slack) Mauch (b. Feb 9, 1897 d. ?)<br />
Ruth Kathryn (Slack) Whitehead (b. Sep 5, 1901 d. May 12 1993)<br />
Mary J. (Slack) Carter (b. Nov 28, 1905 d. Dec 16, 1988)<br />
Christina (Slack) Stephens (b. Dec 17, 1909 d. Oct 26 1990)<br />
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I must thank one of my newly discovered distant cousins, Kathryn Ann (Whitehead) Tilley of Destin, Florida for recently providing a few of the dates and names of my Grandfather’s siblings that I previously have been unable to find. I encourage anyone with information on my Southwest Missouri Slack family roots, or any family line for that matter, to contact me or reply to this and other posts. Together, we can keep their memories and treasured stories alive for generations to come.Andrew Hairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05917621588415449089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9156779058869621563.post-17190137100757513822010-08-18T23:12:00.000-06:002010-08-18T23:12:33.657-06:00Marion Keith & Ellen (Tuttle) Davis – Links to a Cousin!I have worked in the technology business for many years and sometimes take for granted the incredible power of the Internet. Every once in a while I am jolted from my complacency and reminded of this fact. For example, I recently stumbled on to a cousin I never knew I had—Keith W. Davis of New Cambria, Kansas (near Salina). What a discovery! I found Keith through Ancestry.com and learned he has been researching his family genealogy for many years. In the past few months Keith and I have shared information on our common ancestors—Marion Keith Davis (b. Jan 31, 1852 d. Jul 12, 1930) and Ellen Tuttle (b. Apr 24, 1862 d. Sep 17, 1935). <br />
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Marion and Ellen are my 2nd Great Grandparents on my mother's side of the family. Keith descends from Marion and Ellen's son Paul, and I descend from their daughter Pearl Davis. That would make Keith my second cousin once removed.<br />
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Keith is an avid researcher, photographer and loves to fish. The photo below is a prime example of his fishing prowess. It was taken during a recent trip to Lake Taneycomo in Taney County, Missouri. By the way, Keith reports that his trophy trout measured 17 ¾ inches, and weighed in at 2 pounds, 8 ounces--and that’s no fish story! <br />
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What amazes both Keith and his wife Susan is how much he resembles his Great Grandfather Marion Keith Davis, as the photo below of Marion and Ellen demonstrates. I do believe there's a resemblance!<br />
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While getting acquainted, both Keith and I learned we can help each other barrel through our research brick walls. For instance, he didn’t have a photo of Marion and Ellen, but I did (photo above). As for myself, I was seeking the dates of birth and death of my Grand Aunt, Henrietta E. Wright (b. Jun 8, 1908 d. Aug 6, 1985). Keith was able to find that information while visiting the Hazelwood Cemetery in Springfield, Missouri earlier this summer. We have also shared photos, and he has helped me identify individuals in photos I was unsure about. <br />
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Expect more blog posts in the future as we team up to unravel other family mysteries. Looks like I have another name to add to the Christmas card list, I am happy to report!Andrew Hairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05917621588415449089noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9156779058869621563.post-14750946519939653122010-07-06T21:33:00.000-06:002010-07-06T21:33:40.260-06:00Donald and Nora Pauline (Barke) Hair – Down on the Farm<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KgnIcEe8RB8/TDPvh0-WOnI/AAAAAAAAAEg/yh8D7d9WjJw/s1600/Don+and+Nora+Hair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" rw="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KgnIcEe8RB8/TDPvh0-WOnI/AAAAAAAAAEg/yh8D7d9WjJw/s320/Don+and+Nora+Hair.jpg" width="250" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>“Don and Nora”, as they were frequently and affectionately called, were my adopted paternal grandparents. As I mentioned in an earlier post, my direct family lines consist of the Pounds and Slack surnames, however my Mother remarried and took the “Hair” name when I was four years old. I was legally adopted at age ten and have been a Hair ever since.<br />
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Donald Hair (b. Jun 23, 1911, d. Feb 23, 2002) and Nora Pauline Barke (b. Feb 26, 1915, d. 26 May 1993) were born, raised and lived their entire lives in the rural township of Billings, Missouri located in the western Christian County. Don was the son of Evert Lee Hair (b. Jul 13, 1889, d. Aug 8, 1987) and Bessie Pearle Steele (b. Sep 5, 1888, d. Jan 2, 1921). Nora was the daughter of Fredrick Otto Barke (b. Aug 27, 1874, d. Feb 27 1953) and Emma Schultz (b. Sep 14, 1877, d. Aug 21 1960). <br />
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Don and Nora were married on January 14, 1935 and spent their lives raising their family and farming 420 acres of land south of Billings. Their house (see photo above) was built by Nora’s father, Fredrick Barke sometime before their marriage, and was expanded at some point following 1935. The house was originally built as quarters for Frederick’s farm hands.<br />
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Don was a tall, slender, fun-loving person who didn’t typically say much, but when he did, a joke or one-liner usually followed. I have been told by my Dad that he was also a pretty good pitcher on his “town ball” team in his youth. With the right coaching and an opportunity, he could have become a professional baseball player. He also loved to play pinochle, dominoes and checkers. When asked what he was up to, he would invariably reply with “oh, just runnin’ up and down the road”. That was Don. <br />
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Nora was a quiet and patient person as well as a great cook. I recall her homemade rhubarb, blackberry and peach cobblers (or whatever was in season) and homemade cornbread with fondness. In fact, she used to make cornbread every night in cast iron molds shaped like ears of corn. I have always associated a meal on “the farm” with those cob-shaped pieces of corn bread. I was also fascinated by the “root cellar” under the house. That’s where Nora stored all the canned items she prepared for the winter to include pickled beets, blackberries, green beans, corn, and suckers--a bottom feeding fish common in the streams and lakes of the Ozarks. <br />
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My earliest memory of Don and Nora was driving up to their farm house one warm summer day in what I believe was 1965. I would have been 4 years old at the time, but I clearly remember the occasion, because it involved a bottle of Coca-Cola. Don was trying to fix a piece of farm machinery outside their house while Nora looked on, holding a cold bottle of Coke. For whatever reason, the machine had a stubborn component that was stuck and wouldn’t budge. My Dad and Don oiled and banged on it to no avail until Nora decided to pour the contents of her coke over the immovable piece. That seemed to do the trick as the farm implement sprang to life. Everyone was happy at the outcome, but I couldn’t comprehend why anyone would waste a perfectly good Coca-Cola!<br />
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Growing up, I recall many adventures “down on the farm” to include baling hay in the summer, hunting rabbits and squirrels, exploring the woods on their property and riding Don’s tractors including the 1949-era Oliver Model Row Crop “66” (shown above) that still runs. I wasn’t much of a farmer, but spending time with Don and Nora gave me a solid appreciation for the rich and challenging lives of the small farmer of Southwest Missouri. <br />
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Unfortunately, I have been unable to find an obituary for Nora, but Don’s obituary from the Springfield News-Leader, February 25, 2002 adds more background on their lives and family: <br />
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<blockquote>Donald Hair, 90, Billings, Mo., passed away Friday, February 22, 2002, in his home. Donald was a long-standing member of St. Peter’s Church in Billings. He resided in the Billings area his entire life, where he made his living as a farmer. He served as Road Commissioner and on the Billings School Board. He was also involved in various farming organizations. Donald’s fellowship will be missed by family and friends alike. He loved to fish, play games and spend time with his family. He was preceded in death by his wife, Nora (Barke) Hair; a son, William; parents Evert and Bessie (Steele) Hair; and two brothers, Richard and Howard Hair. Donald is survived by his two sons, James D. Hair and Jerry W. Hair, both of Springfield, Mo.; a sister, Emma Lou Barnett; and a brother, Evert Lee Hair, both of Billings. He is also survived by five grandchildren and four great-grand- children. Funeral services will be at 1:30 p.m. Wednesday, February 27, 2002, in Meadors Funeral Homes, Billings, with Pastor Doug Burwick officiating. Burial will be in St. Peter’s Cemetery, Billings. The Billings Chapel will be open Tuesday, with visitation from 7 to 8 p.m.</blockquote><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I couldn't write another post for this blog without introducing my maternal grandparents, Ellsworth Woodrow and Louise (Fisher) Slack. They were a very influential part of my life and the lives of my first cousins in particular. I fully intend to share many family stores about "E.W.", as his friends would call my grandfather, and "Nan" as many in the family would refer to my grandmother. </div><a name='more'></a><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div><br />
Granddad was born Ellsworth Woodrow Slack on March 16, 1914 in Springfield, Missouri. His parents were John William Slack (b. Nov 23, 1873, d. 1959) and Rose E. Morgan (b. Nov 1, 1878, d. Jun 14, 1937). I suspect my grandfather was named after his Great Uncle Ellsworth Slack (b. Jun 15, 1875, d. Dec 5, 1943), but I do know that his middle name “Woodrow” was chosen in honor of President Woodrow Wilson. Ellsworth was the youngest of eight children, four boys and four girls. His father was a farmer born in Brown County, Ohio, and his mother was born in Springfield, Missouri. My grandfather (Ellsworth) passed away on March 4, 1996.<br />
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</div>"Nan", as she was affectionately called, probably got her nickname for all the babysitting she used to do. In fact, I didn't know her given name was "Louise" until I was somewhere in my early grade school years. In fact, one of my cousins told me that Nan once confessed her actual name was Velma Louise. While I don’t doubt it, I have yet to confirm it. Regardless, she was and will always be "Nan" to me.<br />
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Louise was born on April 24, 1913. Her parents were Frank Grover Fisher (b. September 22, 1888, d. unknown, but possibly April 1965) and Pearl M. Davis (b. September 25, 1879 d. December 14, 1944). She was a homemaker and fantastic cook. Sitting down to a home cooked meal lovingly produced by Nan was always a treat! I fondly recall her homemade chicken and dumplings and the fish fries she would have following a successful day at the lake. She could conjure up a mean apple pie too! Nan passed away on March 9, 1998. <br />
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Both Granddad and Nan were hard working and caring people. Granddad loved to tell stories about the many trials and challenges he faced during his long career as an airplane mechanic, machine shop owner, and finally as a plumber and pipe fitter. He especially enjoyed telling and retelling his many hunting and fishing stories. Nan was a little quieter, but always available to lend a smile and an encouraging word just when you needed it.<br />
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I strongly encourage all family and friends who knew Ellsworth and Louise to contribute their fondest stories and memories. Rest assured, I will in coming posts.Andrew Hairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05917621588415449089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9156779058869621563.post-65640566366854578142010-06-07T22:40:00.008-06:002010-06-07T22:52:42.187-06:00Harry E. Wright – Chasing Bandits on the Border!My family history research has uncovered many ancestors who served in the military from the Revolutionary War on, however there is one veteran I am particularly interested in--Harry E. Wright, born in October of 1895 in Springfield, Missouri to Henry E. Wright and Pearl Davis. I recall my maternal grandmother, Louise (Fisher) Slack (Pearl’s daughter) speaking fondly of her half-brother throughout the years, but I unfortunately didn't ask many questions while I could. From what I have learned, Harry led a fascinating life, but one that’s still a bit of a mystery to me. So here's what I do know about Harry.<br />
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A few years after my Grandmother, passed away in 1998, I inherited a box of photos that included among other things, a small batch of military photos of Harry and his buddies. I really like the one shown above, and I suspect it was taken somewhere in and around Ft. Bliss and/or Marfa, Texas. I know Harry served in the West Texas area because of three pieces of information. The first is the letter (below) dated January 4, 1918 written by Harry to his mother, Pearl. It clearly places him in Marfa, Texas: <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KgnIcEe8RB8/TA3CyN6wGGI/AAAAAAAAADY/ROnvhBgSOVo/s1600/Cavalry+Finds+Raiders+Gone+Low+Res+-+1+4+1918.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" qu="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KgnIcEe8RB8/TA3CyN6wGGI/AAAAAAAAADY/ROnvhBgSOVo/s640/Cavalry+Finds+Raiders+Gone+Low+Res+-+1+4+1918.jpg" width="232" /></a></div>Regrettably, I only have the one page, but it’s a fascinating letter nevertheless. I marvel at how meticulously it was typed in an era when most letters were hand written. Incidentally, I am not sure what the "raid" was that Harry wrote about, but I did find an article from Page 2 of the El Paso Herald, January 4, 1918 that helps put this in context: "Marfa Reports Another Bandit Raid at Brite's". I suspect Harry was talking about the Christmas raid the article mentions. <br />
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Having served at Ft. Bliss as a Cavalry Officer, I am particularly drawn to the photo below, and the second item that ties Harry to this part of the country. Someone has placed an “X” (I think it was my Grandmother or another relative) above the cavalry trooper in the center of the photo. That may be Harry passing in review for General John J. Pershing at Ft. Bliss, Texas, but the quality of the photo makes it impossible to know for sure. It could very well be one of the Ft. Bliss parade grounds that I was to march on 68 years later. During my time with the Cavalry, we used tracked vehicles not horses! <br />
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The third item I have uncovered connecting Harry to far West Texas is the 1920 U.S. Census for Marfa City (below). The Census (lines 7-9) shows Harry living in Marfa, Texas with his wife Dorothy and their new daughter “Dorothy E.” in 1920. His letter to Pearl in 1918 did indicate the couple might sink roots in Marfa, and apparently they did at least for a short period of time. Additionally, a review of the Texas Birth Index, 1903-1997, published by the Texas Department of State Health Service produced an entry for the birth of Dorothy Eloise Wright in Presidio (County), Texas on September 15, 1918 which most likely is the “Dorothy E.” listed in the Census. The Census also shows the child’s age at 1 3/12 years old, which aligns with the Texas Birth Index record. Securing a copy of Dorothy’s Presidio birth certificate should help verify this. <br />
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The Census record also shows Harry was a retail grocery clerk in 1920. Of interest is the person listed on the first line of the form—Hans Briam, “EM” or “Employer” of a Retail Grocery. Harry and his family apparently lived in close proximity to Hans, or even next door. The “Place of Abode” comprising the first four columns of the form clearly shows this. Given the size of Marfa at the time, it’s very possible Hans was Harry’s employer.<br />
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All that I recall hearing from my Grandmother about Harry and Dorothy was that Dorothy lived in Dallas, and Harry travelled back and forth between Washington D.C. and Dallas for many years. I don’t recall her mentioning the time the couple lived together in Marfa. I do however have a photo of Harry and Dorothy, probably taken at some time in the late 1920’s or early 1930’s. Dorothy appears to have been a nurse at that time. <br />
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According to “My Heritage”, Louise (Fisher) Slack’s handwritten family history document, dated August 22, 1984: “Harry, the doctor, died of a heart attack. He was an army doctor and a colonel was his title at the time of his death.” I know my Grandmother did know Harry in her younger days, so I have every reason to believe he was a physician and an Army doctor. <br />
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The photo below of Harry in a laboratory in front of a microscope is another indication that he was, at some point in his life, involved in the medical field: <br />
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I have uncovered one other tantalizing clue from the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs, National Gravesite Locator web site that could be about Harry. There is an entry on the site that reads: “Wright, Harry Elbert COL USAFR MC, Date of Birth: 10/24/1895, Date of Death: 02/11/1952, Buried at: Section 3, Site 4546-B, Arlington National Cemetery….” The birth year and the name are very close matches to information I have, and my Grandmother did refer to him as a Colonel and a doctor. Harry’s middle initial “E” is consistent with “Elbert” as the VA entry indicates. Furthermore, the “MC” in the entry refers to “Medical Corps”, and the “USAFR” stands for United States Air Force Reserve. It’s possible Harry could have been a U.S. Army Air Corps physician, and he may have transitioned into the Air Force Reserve upon its creation in 1947. If this is Harry, then I have an accurate accounting of his of his birth and death, but I will need to confirm it. <br />
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The next goal in my investigation of the life of Harry E. Wright is to request a copy of his military records from the National Personnel Records Center in St. Louis, Missouri. Since I am not directly related to him, the request may be denied, but it’s worth a try! Rest assured I will post any and all results as soon as I learn more.Andrew Hairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05917621588415449089noreply@blogger.com5