We’re moving! After almost 38 years in one house, we will be moving to a smaller home in a few months. Oh, my. We have an attic and basement full of the accumulation that comes with raising a family and losing grandparents and parents over decades. I’m trying to balance the desire to hold on to family memories and my readiness to be less tied to generations of material things. It’s more than a little overwhelming.
Tucked into all this, there are boxes of surprises. Things my mother packed in the Hartford Courant’s January 5, 1976 edition before a move. Two moves later she put boxes in our attic in 1995, saying “These don’t belong to you,” and she never touched them again. I’ve started unwrapping them and I’m finding finds.
Mind you, the goal here is to pare down, deaccession, simplify. But So. Much. Stuff.
If you’re reading this you already know that I’m enthralled by family stories and the things that remind us of those stories. But the sheer volume has to go. So, as I go through this tender process, I’m going to share an object and its story now and then.
The tea cart pictured above was bought by my grandmother about 1945. My mother’s family had lived in Beirut, Lebanon, and moved to the United States when World War II ended. I remember the cart in their little house in the woods in Dover, Massachusetts throughout my childhood. A silver tea service that had belonged to Granny’s mother, Mary (Hill) Mills, sat on it.
My grandfather gave my grandmother a budget for the new household they were setting up in New Hampshire. The figure he told her was their modest total household budget for the year, but apparently Granny misunderstood. She bought a houseful of furniture, spending every bit of their year’s funds. I have no idea how they sorted that out, but the furniture stayed.
Elsie (Mills) Oliver, Celia Oliver, and Kenneth Oliver, my grandparents and mother, at Goucher College graduation, 1954.
After moving with my mum several times, the sweet tea cart has been collecting dust in my basement for several years. I’m thrilled with how it glows now, but I don’t have a spot for it when we move. It’s headed to Circus Lane, a friend’s antiques and vintage shop in search of a new home.
I’d never noticed the little drawer. I hope its new owner does, because I’m going to leave them a note with its story.
Engagement photograph of Elsie Mills and Kenneth Oliver, date unknown.
Kenneth Oliver (1898-1975) and Elsie Mills (1899-1993), my grandparents, were married 100 years ago on February 18, 1925 at the Church of St. Ignatius Loyala in Manhattan. Like so many good love stories, theirs had its twists and turns, including the classic “boy-meets-girl;-boy-loses-girl;-boy-gets-girl” plot line. It also had parental obstacles, a rival, and international adventure.
Elsie was the eldest of four children of James Mills, a physician and faculty member at Johns Hopkins University Medical School and his wife Mary (Hill). She studied art at the Maryland Institute in Baltimore, graduating in 1921 as winner of the fine art prize.
Maryland Institute, Baltimore, where Elsie Mills studied art.
Ken graduated from Haverford College in 1920 and arrived in Baltimore later that year to study medicine at Hopkins. He must have studied with his future father-in-law that first year, because the Baltimore Sun reported on July 13, 1921 that James Mills and Kenneth Oliver were sailing to Beirut on July 20th. They visited Ken’s parents at their orphanage near Beirut, returning to Baltimore in October.
From the Baltimore Sun, 13 July, 1921
I don’t know any details of the start or early stages of my grandparents’ romance. Elsie continued her art studies and painting and Ken focused his medical studies, specializing in eye, ear, nose, and throat, his future father-in-law’s specialty. They were probably engaged sometime before the summer of 1921, but James Mills would not allow his daughter to marry Ken until he finished his residency, which was several years off. I imagine they were disappointed, but even my headstrong, free-spirited grandmother would not have disobeyed her father.
James Mills, 1914 Elsie’s father and Ken’s professor at Johns Hopkins University Medical School.
Sometime after their engagement, Ken believed he had tuberculosis. TB was highly contagious and still usually fatal, so he broke off his engagement to Elsie. She spent the summer of 1921 studying art in Woodstock, New York with Leon Kroll, George Bellows, and other major artists.
Leon Kroll, self-portrait, lithograph
Kroll (1884-1974), who had also taught Elsie at the Maryland Institute, seems to have taken a particular interest in her. He worked side by side with her, each completing a portrait of his Haitian maid that summer, and he used Elsie as a model for several of his paintings.
According to my grandmother, Kroll also asked her to marry him that summer after her engagement had been broken off. Fortunately for my grandfather and their descendants, she turned him down in order to stay true to Ken. And in classic romantic movie style, Ken turned out not to have TB, so they reconciled.
During the next several years, Ken continued his medical training and Elsie continued to study, exhibit, and teach art. Elsie’s father, James, died unexpectedly at age 61 on January 2, 1925, and the young couple seems to have wasted no time, marrying just six weeks later.
Left: 116 East 63rd Street, New York, Elsie’s apartment building in February 1925; Right: Brearley School, 60 East 61st Street, New York, where Elsie taught art. Photo credit:Daytonian in Manhattan
At the time of their marriage, Elsie was living in New York at 116 East 63rd Street. She was continuing her art studies and teaching art at the Brearley School, a prestigious private school for girls, located two blocks south at 60 East 61st Street in a building designed by McKim, Mead & White.
I wish it had ever occurred to me to ask my grandparents about their wedding, but it didn’t. The marriage certificate fills in a few details. Given how soon after James Mills’s death they were married, I imagine that it was a very small ceremony. The marriage certificate lists the witnesses as Daniel and A. Douglas Oliver, Ken’s father and elder brother. Daniel Oliver lived in Lebanon, but traveled occasionally to the United States for his work. It is possible that the wedding was the first time Daniel met his new daughter-in-law.
Ken and Elsie were married at the Church of Saint Ignatius Loyola at 980 Park Avenue in Manhattan. An imposing edifice built from 1895-1900, it was the scene of many high profile occasions such as the funerals of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, Lena Horne, Oscar de la Renta, and Mario Cuomo. It was also the filming location for the funeral of Logan Roy, central character in the recent streaming series, Succession.
Following their marriage and a honeymoon in Atlantic City, New Jersey, Ken and Elsie settled back in Baltimore in an apartment on Eutaw Place. Elsie’s newly widowed mother sold the family’s house and moved with her twenty year old son, Jimmy, to an apartment across the street from Ken and Elsie. Ken continued his medical training at Hopkins and Elsie continued to paint. In January 1926 she had a one-woman painting exhibition at the Maryland Institute.
James and Maria (Milnes) Mills
Coincidentally, Elsie and Ken shared their anniversary with Elsie’s paternal grandparents. James Mills (1824-1904) married Maria Milnes (1825-1892) 180 years ago on February 18, 1845 at St. Werburgh’s Church in Derby, England. And the 200th anniversary of Maria’s birth in Gloucester, England just passed on March 19th. So many milestones!
Relationships
James and Maria (Milnes) Mills, 2nd great grandparents
Clementine Esther (Bodenhamer) Owen, date unknown, family collection
I was about 15 when I began piecing together my family history and gathering names of my ancestors. I learned that I had a great great grandmother named Clementine Bodenhamer and I was smitten. Who could resist such a fine name?
Clementine “Clemmie” Esther Bodenhamer was born in Marshfield, Webster County, Missouri on January 30, 1854 and probably died in Coffeyville, Kansas on January 13, 1925, 100 years ago this week. She was the only child of Elizabeth Jane Goldsberry (1833-1888) and (probably) John Bodenhamer (1836-1862).
In 1860 Clementine (6) and Elizabeth Bodenhamer (26) were living in Greene County on the 1,000 acre farm of John’s newly deceased father, Jacob (1790-1860) with his widowed mother, Fernita “Neaty” (Goss) Bodenhamer (1795-1863) and three of his brothers. I have not found a record of Elizabeth’s marriage, but John is the most likely Bodenhamer son to have been Clemmie’s father. He is said to have fought in the Civil War for the Confederacy and died in 1862, although I am not aware of a record of his service or death (yes, there’s lots of conjecture and research to be done!)
Jacob Bodenhamer’s death was followed by Neaty’s in 1863. Clemmie’s childhood circumstances on the large Bodenhamer farm must have changed significantly during those years. Jacob and Neaty had somewhere between 17 and 20 children. They were slaveholders, with eight individuals enslaved by Jacob at the time of his death. (More on this in a post yet to come). Seven of their sons served during the Civil War—five for the Union and two for the Confederacy.
As the farm property was broken up and John died or disappeared, it is unclear where Clemmie and Elizabeth went until about 1868 when Elizabeth married Joshua Hamilton (1810-1889), a farmer 23 years her senior from Marshfield, Missouri. Joshua was twice widowed with ten children.
Elizabeth Jane (Goldsberry) Bodenhamer Hamilton, date unknown. Image courtesy of Nancy Hamilton Wright.
On Christmas Eve, 1871, Clemmie (17) and James Washington Owen (23) were married in Marshfield. Like many of Clemmie’s relatives, James was born in Rowan County, North Carolina, and moved west to Greene County, Missouri with his family as a child. At the time of their marriage James and five younger siblings were living on the family farm, where he was a farm hand.
Missouri Marriage Records, 1805-2002
Between the 1873 and 1875 births of their first two children, Clemmie and James moved from Greene County to Webster County. The 1880 Census lists James as “keeping a wagon yard.” By the time Clemmie was 32 in 1886 she had given birth to four sons and three daughters. Clyde, Daisy, John, Maud, and Stella (my great grandmother), all lived to adulthood, but Clemmie and James lost their last two sons very young.
The late 1880s must have been particularly difficult for the Owen family. Babies Oscar and Bertie died in 1885 and 1887; Clemmie’s mother, Elizabeth, died in 1888; and then James died in 1889 at age 41. James’ death seems to have been expected. His will, written three months before his death, states that he is “weak in body but strong and vigorous in mind.” He authorizes Clemmie to dispose of personal property and real estate in order to reinvest the proceeds for the care of herself and the children. He stipulates that their 320 acre farm on Derrick Prairie be retained until their youngest child comes of age “so that my family can be sure of a house…or can get the proceeds of the rents.” James also asks that Clemmie sell his interest in a lumber company.
James Washington Owen, date unknown, family collection
Clemmie remained on the farm until at least 1900, when the census lists her as a farmer, sons Clyde (27) and John (23) as farm laborers, and daughter Maud (20) also in residence. Daughters Daisy and Stella had married and moved away. In 1901 Maud married Alvin Jackson, an order clerk at a wholesale house. Clemmie was living with them and their two young sons in Springfield, Missouri in 1910.
Clemmie, location and date unknown, family collection
Sadly, by 1920 Maud was a patient at Missouri State Hospital No. 3, a psychiatric hospital in Nevada, Missouri, where she remained for many years. Perhaps for this reason, Clemmie moved by 1920 to the Coffeyville, Kansas home of her daughter, Stella (Owen) Miller and her husband Frank. Three granddaughters, Marjorie, Thelma, and Esther Jane (my grandmother), must have made a lively household. I don’t know the details of Clemmie’s last years, whether she stayed in Coffeyville until her death in January 1925 at age 70. She is buried in Marshfield, Missouri with her husband and two of their children.
112 W. 2nd Street, Coffeyville, Kansas home of Stella and Frank Miller in 1920
In The Marshfield Mail on February 9, 1933, a chatty society columnist wrote nearly ten years after Clemmie’s death, “At her death she left a fine memorial behind. That of a kind, good mother and a loyal Christian woman. Today we heard a friend of hers remark, ‘I believe Clemmie Owen was one among the best women I ever knew.’” She is remembered.
Marshfield Cemetery, Marshfield, Missouri
Relationships
Jacob and Fernita “Neaty” (Goss) Bodenhamer, 4th great grandparents
John (probably) and Elizabeth (Goldsberry) Bodenhamer, 3rd great grandparents
James Washington and Clementine Esther (Bodenhamer) Owen, 2nd great grandparents
I recently had the delightful opportunity to spend an hour chatting with Andrew Martin, host of The Family Histories Podcast. We spoke about one of my very favorite family subjects–my great grandparents, Daniel and Emily (Wright) Oliver. Daniel and Emily came from Caithness, Scotland and Yorkshire, England respectively. They met in their 20s in Brumanna, Syria (now Lebanon) where they were teachers at a Quaker boarding school, and later settled for many decades in the mountain village of Ras el Met’n, where they established an orphanage and school. Tune in to hear the rest of their story, along with the story of my “brick wall” ancestor, Juliaetta (Harrington/Herrington) Stephenson from Michigan, whose parentage remains a frustrating mystery to me.
You can listen to my episode here. Be sure to check out other episodes too. Andrew’s podcast is now in its fifth series and there are lots of interesting stories from all over the world.
A couple of illustrations to go with the podcast:
The castle in Ras el Met’n which housed the Daniel and Emily Oliver Orphanage.
Daniel in his “Highland suit”. Emily wrote a 1938 letter describing his purchase and saying he was planning to have his photograph taken in it. Here it is.
And a postscript: A few days before this episode was released I had a lovely visit with my mum’s cousin, a granddaughter of Daniel and Emily. She shared a family album with images I’d never seen, including these gems. (Thank you, Susan!)
If not for the Beirut photo studio I would have guessed that the first photograph was a wedding picture. It’s labeled 1895, the year Daniel and Emily were married at ages 25 and 29, but they were married at the Stoke Newington Friends Meetinghouse in London, not in Beirut. Emily appears to be wearing a wedding ring, but Daniel is not. (And I know he wore one. It’s on my husband’s finger now.) This is the earliest image I’ve seen of Daniel.
And the second photograph may be my new all-time favorite. First, he’s in Ras el Met’n wearing his “Highland suit”, purchased in 1938 to his great delight. Also, Olivers are dog lovers from way back, and there are many pictures of Daniel with an assortment of dogs. This, probably taken about 1938, is the best.
The caption in the album reads “Bobby and Aunt Elsie having a grand time!” Taken in 1936
Another Women’s History Month has arrived and I can’t resist starting with this joyful photo of my Granny, Elsie (Mills) Oliver (1899-1993) with her nephew, Robert “Bobby” Hugh Oliver, Jr. (1930-1976). I can hear her laughing. This is an expression I remember well. And of course she’s holding Bobby’s dog, Snooky. Of course she is.
This is one of several photographs taken during the summer of 1936, presumably at the Lansdowne, Pennsylvania home of my grandfather’s brother and sister-in-law, Hugh and Claire (Loughney) Oliver. My grandparents, mother and her siblings were living in Beirut, Lebanon at the time, with three children between the ages of four and ten, so it was surprising to find my grandmother there without the rest of the family. But there she is with her mother, Mary (Hill) Mills. Elsie must have come from Beirut to visit her mother.
Elsie (Mills) Oliver and her mother, Mary (Hill) Mills
Mary Mills (known to her family as “Dear”) was 60 when this photograph was taken. She had been widowed a little more than ten years. After a lifetime in Baltimore, Dear was living in an apartment in Queens, New York not far from her son Jimmy Mills. This visit from Elsie was to be their last. Mary Mills died in Queens just a year later.
The third image is of the three sisters-in-law, presumably gathered for the visit from Elsie and Mary: Dorothy (Kay) Oliver, who was married to A. Douglas Oliver; Elsie, married to my grandfather, Kenneth Oliver; and Claire, married to Robert Hugh Oliver.
I had a delightful lunch last week with Mary Lee, who inherited this album that had belonged to her great aunt, Claire (Loughney) Oliver, wife of my great uncle, Hugh Oliver. I wrote here about Mary Lee’s and my first encounter over family photos, and am beyond thrilled that we got to meet (so much fun!) and look at photos together. More to come from this album, but today is for remembering Granny’s peals of laughter, her mother Dear, and “the Oliver Girls” in honor of Women’s History Month.
Thank you again to Mary Lee Witaconis for sharing these glimpses of the extended Oliver family.
NOTE: I made these remarks at the Celebration of Life for my mother, Celia Oliver, on December 5, 2022. We miss her.
I’ve collected an assortment of descriptions of Mum this week—mine and from others—and it’s been interesting to hear how we saw her: loving, funny, resilient, irreverent, distractable, silly, opinionated, complicated, joyful, effortlessly cool, interested, elegant.
Mum was most definitely all of those things, but the qualities that feel most central to me are the joy she took in things large and small around her; her ability to find the funny and silly moments; her resilience through life’s challenges; and above all else, her fierce love for her family.
Mum knew how to find joy and how to create it. She found it in tiny jam jars, cheerful colors, cozy sweaters, and apricot scones. She found it in gardening and in a long succession of dogs and cats too numerous to count. She found it every time she looked out a window, walked down a street or rode in a car. “Look at that…[fill in the blank]!! It’s so cute!”
A recent friend of Mum’s at the Bertram House captured it perfectly, calling it her “childlike sense of wonder.” She was amused and amazed by the large and the small details of her world. “Cute” was her adjective of choice, and it was used kind of randomly to admire everything from the passing 18-wheeler with a yellow stripe, to a ladybug, and once to our great confusion, to the coal barge in Salem Harbor.
A sense of adventure was part of this. After spending her childhood in Lebanon, Jerusalem, Cairo, and her early married years in Alaska and Germany, Mum had a love of travel. When I was 6, Mum (a single mother, widowed 2 years earlier) announced that we were going to go to Paris the following summer. We would sail over on the S.S. France and rent a flat for the summer…if I learned French. I remember the language instruction records vividly, but don’t remember becoming fluent and somehow we never went… It was decades before I realized the pleasure she got in the planning, even when the adventure itself didn’t materialize. This was true of her plan to move to New Zealand for a year, (our mail carrier was quite confused by the daily delivery of the New Zealand Herald one year); the plan to join the Peace Corps when I left for college, and the houseboat on the inland waterway (never mind that she and Walt knew nothing whatsoever about boats).
I learned early from Mum that laughter was a gift that could make anything better. As a pre-teen I spent a lot of time in and out of hospital for back surgery and scoliosis treatment. I wore bulky body casts or a back brace during that especially self-conscious age of 11 to 14. One of Mum’s greatest gifts to me during that time was to make a game of staring back at the kids who stared at me in my unwieldy armor. And laughing at ourselves. During those years I remember her offering constant good cheer and loving support in a way that left no room to feel sorry for myself.
As Mum’s memory declined during the past few years, she continued to be able to laugh at the absurdity of the world and at her own decline. We laughed a lot during these past few months and that was a balm to both of us.
And then there was her resilience. Mum’s complicated life included many upheavals and losses that shaped her. Boarding school starting at age 8, wartime, emigrating to the U.S. and leaving beloved grandparents behind in Lebanon, more boarding school. She was widowed before she was 30. There were more moves, remarriage, a divorce. Life brings us all challenges. She struggled. I know she did. And yet, she created a life where she found joy and humor and a good portion of contentment.
When the time came to move from the little condo she loved on Kosciusko Street to the Bertram House, that resilience came through loud and clear. Mum, who loved her “quiet little life” and valued her privacy, made the adjustment to assisted living with enthusiasm (mostly). She opened herself to new people and created a little community of dear friends among the loving staff there. She embraced them and they returned her enthusiasm in the best possible ways. We’re so grateful for the time she had there and the love she shared during recent difficult months.
When I asked Will and Abby what the first words were that came to mind to describe Grandma, they both said loving first of all. So did I. Mum’s love was fierce. It was absolute. It was sometimes exhausting. It was joyful and funny and resilient. And it runs through all of us. She adored her family, each of us in our own way. She loved babies and dogs (not necessarily always in that order) and loved nothing more than being a grandmother and great grandmother.
That circle of life business worked its magic in our family this year. Lily’s birth in April brought incredible happiness to all of us. Mum’s delight in her, right up until the last days of her life, was a joy to behold.
Mum, we miss you already, but I’m hoping you’re settled on that cloud you always told me about, dangling your toes with Daddy, Damdaddy and Granny, Peter, and all the other special people. We love you.
In family history research, and in life in general, I’ve always believed in the magic of serendipity aided by a good helping of paying attention. And always gratitude.
Emily (Wright) Oliver (1865-1954), my great grandmother
When Ancestry started waving its little green hint leaves at me about my mother’s first cousin, Bobby Oliver, I took a peek at a recommended tree and smiled to find a few photos of him. I remembered meeting Bobby once at my grandparents’ when I was a child. He was about my mother’s age and died in his forties.
Bobby Oliver (Robert Hugh Oliver, Jr. 1930-1976). Taken late 1940s?
As I explored the tree, I realized that it belonged to a relative of Bobby’s mother, a connection by marriage, and not a direct relative of mine. And yet…my attention was caught by the photo of a lady in round spectacles and a white-haired wig attached to the tree. It was my great grandmother, Emily (Wright) Oliver, but it was listed as someone else! Someone I wasn’t related to! I know this particular photo well. I have a copy of it. And the very Victorian brooch she’s wearing is in my jewelry box. It was definitely Emily and most definitely not this Anna person.
Misattributed portraits come up often on Ancestry trees. Oh, look! Ancestry waved it’s little hint leaf at me! Somebody posted a photo of great, great aunt Mary Sue! I’ll add it to my tree! And once a mistake is made, it can spread like wildfire. If dozens of other people have that photo in their family tree and they all say it’s Mary Sue, then it must be true. Ack!
But before harumphing too much about Emily being mislabeled as Anna, I wrote the person in whose tree I’d found it. To thank her for the wonderful pictures of Bobby. What a pleasure to find them! And, by the way, about that photo you’ve labeled as Anna…
As usual, courtesy (and persistence) is the best approach. It took two messages (not everyone checks Ancestry as obsessively often as I do), but when I heard back from Mary happy things followed. She corrected the misidentification. We shared family info relating to Bobby, who was also her mother’s first cousin. And, best of all, she had a family album with more pictures of my side of the family. Wonderful pictures of my grandfather and his brothers as children, of my great grandparents. I’m thrilled and grateful. And it turns out that Mary’s son lives in the same Pennsylvania town my daughter and her family just moved to. We’re going to meet up sometime and look at pictures together. Hooray!
Daniel Oliver (1870-1952), my great grandfatherEmily younger. That hat!Taken about 1905, probably in Ras el Met’n, Lebanon.Brothers Ken (my grandfather), Hugh (father of Bobby), and Doug Oliver, about 1907
So when the serendipity gods drop something into your lap, be sure you’re paying attention, and don’t forget to say a heartfelt thank you.
Relationships
Daniel (1870-1952) and Emily (Wright) Oliver (1865-1954), my great grandparents
Kenneth Stuart Oliver (1898-1975) my grandfather
Alan Douglas (Doug) Oliver (1896-1983) Daniel and Emily’s son, my great uncle
Robert Hugh Henderson (Hugh) Oliver (1903-1979) Daniel and Emily’s son, Bobby’s father, my great uncle
Robert Hugh (Bobby) Oliver, Jr. (1930-1976) Hugh’s son, my first cousin once removed
Special thanks to Mary Witaconis for the use of these photographs. They make me happy.
I’ve just found the will of my 5th great grandfather, Frederick Goss (1766-1833) and the estate inventory of his widow, Sarah (Elston) Goss (1772-1837) in Davidson County, North Carolina. Frederick’s 1833 will includes the following:
“I give & bequeath unto my beloved wife Sarah my negro slaves namely James Catharine & Lett, to her use and benefit during her life time & then the said James & Catherine [no mention of Lett] to be sold by my executors and their proceeds to be divided among my lawful heirs.”
The inventory of Sarah’s estate includes “A list of the sale of the property of Sarah Goss deceased sold the 9th day of June 1837.”
Interspersed between the sale prices of such items as “one stone jug 30 cents,” “candlemold and scissors 5 cents,” and “1 side saddle 9 dollars and 50 cents,” the list also includes:
James a negro boy purchased for $601 by James Lee. (Lee also bought one “coverlid,” two quilts, one “needleworked counterpin,” and one “bed cord” for a total of $8.33.)
Catharine a negro girl purchased for $402 by Julian Leach.
Irena a negro girl purchased for $300.25 by William Harris.
The 1830 Census lists Goss enslaving 12 people: one boy under age 10, two male youths between 10 and 23, one young man between 24 and 35, and one man between 36 and 54. There were also four girls under age 10, two girls/young women between 10 and 24, and one woman between 36 and 54. Which of these twelve were the four individuals listed in the estate documents? And what happened to the others?
I wish I knew James, Catharine, Lett and Irena’s ages. What were their relationships to each other? I don’t know if Lett (listed in Frederick’s will) is the same person as Irena in Sarah’s estate inventory. The three enslavers who purchased these three people at the sale aren’t names I recognize from my family research and I don’t know if they were local. Did these four people remain in the area or were they uprooted and sent far away? So many unanswered questions, but I hope this little bit of information is helpful to someone.
I have many ancestors who were enslavers. Most were on my maternal grandmother’s side, but some, like Frederick and Sarah Goss, were ancestors of my paternal grandmother, and at least one was an on my paternal grandfather’s side. It’s a daunting task, but this post is a very small first step to share information on the souls who were held in bondage by my ancestors. There will be more.
Updating this February 4, 2023 to add the names of additional people listed in Frederick Goss’s probate records as having been sold at an estate sale on 11 and 12 December, 1833.
From the list, I am remembering:
Robert, 1 negro boy, was sold for $570 to Samuel Mitchel.
Levy, 1 negro boy, was sold for $580 to Samuel Mitchel.
Dick, 1 negro man, was sold for $152.50 to William Wadsworth.
Carline, 1 negro girl, was sold for $420 to Samuel Mitchel.
Eliza, 1 negro girl, was sold for $326 to Allen E. Goss. (Allen Elston Goss was the son of Frederick and Sarah (Elston) Goss).
Irena (Serena), 1 negro girl, was sold for $134 to Sarah Goss, widow (of Frederick Goss). Irena is listed above, having been sold again in Sarah’s 1837 estate sale, this time for $300.25 to William Harris.
Ruth and 2 children were sold for $515 to Joshua Lee.
Mary, 1 negro girl, was sold for $166 to Allen Goss.
Rachel, 1 negro girl, was sold for $92 to John Lee.
So many people.
I have found some information on Allen E. Goss. Born about 1812, Allen was about 21 years old when he purchased Eliza and Mary from his father Frederick’s estate in 1833. By the 1840 Census, Allen was living with his wife and four children in Gasconade, Missouri. There were no slaves listed in his household.
Sources
Wills (Davidson County, North Carolina), 1823-1969; Index to Wills, 1823-1955; p. 239. Author: North Carolina. Superior Court (Davidson County); Probate Place: Davidson, North Carolina
Wills and Estate Papers (Davidson County), 1663-1978; Author: North Carolina. Division of Archives and History (Raleigh, North Carolina); Probate Place: Davidson, North Carolina
Ancestry.com. 1840 United States Federal Census [database on-line]. Provo, UT, USA: Ancestry.com Operations, Inc., 2010. Year: 1840; Census Place: Gasconade, Missouri; Roll: 223; Page: 298; Family History Library Film: 0014855
Relationship
Frederick (1766-1833) and Sarah (Elston) Goss (1772-1837) 5th great grandparents and Allen Elston Goss (abt 1812-1872) 4th great grand uncle
Fernita “Neatty” (Goss) Bodenhamer (1795-1863) 4th great grandmother
John Bodenhamer (about 1837-1863?) 3rd great grandfather
Clementine “Clemmie” Esther (Bodenhamer) Owen (1854-1925) 2nd great grandmother
Stella Lee (Owen) Miller (1881-1942) great grandmother
Esther Jane (Miller) (Stephenson) Hare (1914-1975) grandmother
My devout Granny always said she wasn’t interested in heaven unless her dogs would be there. I feel the same way about family history. It’s not complete without the ancestral dogs. I come from a long line of dog people. In the great nature versus nurture debate, I’m not sure where the trait for being an obsessed dog lover comes in, but I believe I got it from both sides. It’s considered normal in my family to stop the car to get out, cross oncoming traffic and introduce oneself to a random dog (or at least to fight the urge). So here’s a quick chronicle of some of the beloved canines.
Mum, about 1948, with Tess. The story goes that her older brother looked at the photo and said, “Beauty and the Beast. But which one is which?”
As a teenager, my mother had a formal portrait taken with Tess, the family boxer (thank you, cousin Diana, for unearthing it!). My grandmother, Elsie (Mills) Oliver, adored her grandfather, Nicholas Snowden Hill, in part because of the time he arrived and told the grandchildren to choose between the two deep pockets of his overcoat, only to find that there was a puppy in each pocket. He also made her a gift of Mars, the circus pony she admired.
Mum’s paternal grandparents, Daniel and Emily Oliver, ran an orphanage and school in Ras el Met’n, in the mountains outside Beirut. Daniel always had several dogs, and the annual large group photographs of the students, faculty and staff, all feature him, front and center, with a couple of dogs at his feet. My mother would add that she remembers him being harsh with the dogs, but he certainly appeared attentive in the photos, often looking fondly at the dogs and not the camera.
Left: Daniel Oliver and Alsatian friends. Middle: Daniel and Emily (Wright) Oliver at their orphanage and school in Ras el Met’n, Lebanon with staff and a few of the many dogs. Emily’s sister Kathleen Wright is seated at left. 1927. Right: Also Ras el Met’n, 1931.
My Oliver grandparents had many beloved dogs living in Beirut when Mum was a child. I remember tales of Alsatians, (as they were known to them, German Shepherds to us in the U.S.)–Lorna, Ronnie, Topsy. More on their adventures in another post. Later there were boxers, starting with Pronto. And when my grandparents settled in New England there were came Tess and my childhood friends, Judy, Penny, and Jenny.
Judy and me, 1958.
My fourth birthday present was Jeff, a handsome Great Dane, and a great delight to my dad. Family lore is that I was harassing Jeff one day, when my mother heard me shriek. She came running, only to find that Jeff–so much bigger than I was–had gently pinned me to the wall, head on one side of me and tail on the other. He’d had enough! We lived in an apartment in Baltimore near a reservoir. My parents had a VW beetle and exercised Jeff by holding his leash out the car window and slowly driving the loop road around the reservoir. He must have been quite a sight.
Jeff and me, 1961.
I know less about the dogs on my paternal side, but Bill Stephenson, my paternal grandfather, had a series of beloved dachshunds and shelties–Bosco, Princess, Oscar–and was very clear that he liked them better than most people.
And no history of the family dogs would be complete without the dogs we raised our own children with: Sadie (1997-2009), Cosby (2007-2014), Daisy (2015-2020), and now Ellie (born 2018).
Sadie and Cosby, about 2008. Daisy, 2015. Ellie, 2021.
Now we’re blessed with the next dog generation. Our angelic granddog, Coco, who lives in a Hawaiian paradise where she gets to hang out at the beach with her parents and littermates. The dog love continues.
Nope. I have no idea which one is our Coco. But aren’t they gorgeous? Oahu, 2020.
Homer Sheeley (1841-1898? 1911? 1928?) From the Thomas S. Orr Photo Album
“The report of my death was an exaggeration.” The well known Mark Twain quote seems very apt when it comes to the death of my great great grandfather, Homer Sheeley. I know quite a bit about his life, but confirming his death has been a challenge. Finally last week I confirmed when he did NOT die.
Homer Sheeley, born in Ohio in 1841, was the second of nine children born to John/Jehu Scott and Jane Caldwell (Tidball) Sheeley. At age 19, the 1860 census listed Homer and his elder brother Virgil as carpenters, and their father as a cabinet maker. By 1863 Homer was employed as a teacher, according to his Civil War draft registration.
His Civil War military service began late in the war and lasted only a few months. Homer enlisted as a corporal in Company C of the Ohio 81st Infantry Regiment on February 20, 1865. He was mustered out on May 16th and his rank was reduced to private on June 19, 1865. There must be a story there.
Following the war, Homer attended Miami University in Oxford, Ohio. Between 1870 and 1873 he attended Danville Theological Seminary, Danville, Kentucky and Union Theological Seminary, New York. Like his brothers Virgil and Brownhill Tidball Sheeley, Homer became a Presbyterian minister.
Homer and Rebecca Conkling (1845-1894) were married in 1876. Rebecca had attended Western Female Seminary in Oxford, Ohio, (eventually merged with his alma mater, Miami University), where she was a close friend and classmate of Homer’s sister, Maria (Sheeley) Andrews (1843-1937). A family history written by another Sheeley sister, Margaretta Linn Sheeley, referred to Rebecca’s “long period of invalidism, ante-dating her marriage,” while other sources say she became an invalid following the birth of their only child, my great grandmother Alice (Sheeley) Stephenson.
Homer served as pastor in Presbyterian churches across eastern and southern Ohio and Indiana during a long career in the ministry. Daughter Alice was born in 1878 during their time in Lake County, Indiana. By 1885 Rebecca and Alice were living with Rebecca’s parents in Lyons, Kansas. I have found no indication that Homer and Rebecca ever lived together again, and Rebecca died in 1896. Alice remained in Lyons and was raised by her maternal grandparents and aunt, Hattie Conkling.
Then the information got interesting. Years ago I found this article. At first reading I thought it must be true. How could such a specific news story be wrong? (Yes, I was naive.)
Steubenville Herald-Star, Steubenville, Ohio. Friday, January 28, 1898, p. 5.
And yet, Homer appears in the 1900 Census, alive and well and living in Springfield, Ohio. And a July 22, 1924 article in the Akron (Ohio) Beacon Journal mentions a visit to him in Steubenville from his sister and brother-in-law. And, oh by the way, there was this gravestone with the rest of the Sheeley family in Fredericksburg, Ohio with a death date of 1928:
Find a Grave, (www.findagrave.com/memorial/147941370/homer-sheeley: accessed 25 May 2021), memorial page for Homer Sheeley, citing Fredericksburg East Side Cemetery, Fredericksburg, Wayne County, Ohio; maintained by Lois Revenaugh.
Just to make things more confusing, a published genealogy for the Sheeley family lists Homer’s death in 1911 and this source has been widely used in many a family tree on Ancestry and elsewhere. My best explanation is that at the time Margaretta Sheeley wrote the family genealogy in 1911, Homer was still alive. A death date “after 1911” could have turned into a 1911 death by mistake.
Then came the fun part! During a stroll through www.newspapers.com last week, I came across these two articles and both tickled me. Of course by then I’d long since realized the 1898 report of Homer’s death was an oops, but confirmation! Yay! And correct information with a smile and a nod to Mark Twain is even better.
Steubenville Herald-Star, Steubenville, Ohio. Tuesday, February 1, 1898, p. 5.
The Lyons Republican, Lyons, Kansas. Friday, February 11, 1898, p. 5. The publisher of the Lyons Republican was Homer’s brother-in-law.
I love the quirky items I find searching newspapers. I completely love that Homer signed his letter to the editor “Vivaciously Yours.” To find a bit of a sense of humor is a special treat–who knew? And the famous Mark Twain line about his own mis-reported death was first published in June 1897. Was Homer familiar with it and referring to it in his own response just a few months later?
I’m now confident that Homer Sheeley died in 1928, but I have many unanswered questions about Homer and his family. Did he and Rebecca separate because of her fragile health or was the story more complicated? Did he maintain a relationship with his only child, Alice? Did he meet his three grandsons, born between 1902 and 1911? And other than his gravestone, I still haven’t found a record of his death in 1928. Where is his obituary? The real one.
NOTE: Special thanks to Steven K. Orr, my 3rd cousin once removed through Homer Sheeley’s sister, Lovely Jane (Sheeley) Orr, for generously sharing Margaretta Linn Sheeley’s 27-page, handwritten “A Sheeley Genealogy.” Margaretta wrote the family history for Lovely, her youngest sister, on November 11, 1911, the 100th anniversary of their father John/Jehu Scott Sheeley’s birth. The photograph of Homer Sheeley is also from the Orr family’s collection.
Generations of Nomads 