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Chapter 12 – More Teaching Experiences in Ritchie County

The next summer after I taught at Auburn, I taught at Berea. My school was small and did not pay me well, but I had a very nice time. They learned well and had good success getting certificates.

I will continue with my teaching work until I left Ritchie. The fall of 1910 there was an effort made, in an underhand way, to keep me from getting the school at Berea; but I got it and taught a fairly successful school in spite of all a few dirty meddlers could do. I decided when school was out that I would not try for it again, so I got the Sunny Point school on Turtle Run. Conza asked me before the Board met if I was asking for the Berea school, and I told her “No.” Then she said she would try for it. I told her to pitch in. Ell Douglas was on the Board, and he got them to delay hiring the Berea teachers until September in hopes the girls would get schools elsewhere or he could get someone else. Two of the Board members told Conza and Draxie, after the meeting was out, that they should have the school. The opposition made a great effort to get someone else to teach it, but failed.

One night John Meredith (one of my best friends) came up to see me. This was while Jennie was in Colorado, and I was alone. We talked for some time when all at once John said, “Pressie, can’t we get you to teach our school this winter?” My reply was, “No, John, you can’t.” We talked on a while, and again John spoke up, “Pressie, isn’t there some way we can coax you to teach our school?” My reply was “No, John, there isn’t.” After talking for some time longer, John spoke up for the third time, “Pressie, isn’t there some way we can force you to teach our school?” My reply again was “No, John, there isn’t.” He soon went home, and I was happy; I knew Douglas had sent him although he had gotten mad early in the spring when one of the patrons had asked him to give me the school. So it tickled me to say, “No.” Oh, it was fun!

An Incident at Berea: I will now tell a funny incident (some might not think it very funny) that happened the last winter I taught at Berea. Barnard Bee had been using bad talk at school, and Draxie had him wash his mouth with asafetida. This raised an awful fuss, and they had Zeke summoned before the Grand Jury. He came to the school house and told us about it. He said he didn’t want to go as he had no fuss to raise about what she did to the boy. We told him to go ahead; it was all right with us.

The next day we went out to town. We went into the clerk’s office, had ourselves summoned before the jury, sworn, and then waited to be called in. When they called me in, the foreman asked me if I knew what I was summoned for. My reply was, “Maybe I do and maybe I don’t.” He then asked me what I knew. My reply was, “A little of nothing and not much of anything.” He then asked me about the trouble in school. He was smart and thought he was very smart. The first question he asked after that was, “What is your business?” My reply was, “I take the place of the parents.” I saw several old teachers on the jury, and I knew we were okay.

When he said, “Don’t you know that no one but a practicing physician has a right to give medicine?” I shot right back at him, “Yea, if you go home tonight and one of your children has the bellyache, you wouldn’t dare to give him a dose of castor oil?” “That’s different,” he said. A half dozen said, “No, that’s the same.” I knew we had won. The foreman came out a little later, and we told him we had another witness. He said they didn’t need it; for us to just go on home and teach our schools. This was all done by a bunch of trouble makers and ended as such things usually do.

Draxie and Mike Jett: Draxie also had trouble with Mike Jett. He got mad because she kept Witt in at recess. When recess came, they sent for Witt to come home and then sent him back on the playground to play. Draxie saw him out there playing, so she went and got him. I went up to the house to get a drink. While I was gone, Mike went to the school house, cursed Draxie and took Witt away. I stopped in the lower room when I came back and heard John Bee, John Waggoner and Draxie talking about it. When they said he cursed Draxie, I said I would have him arrested and proceeded to call the squire at Harrisville. He said he would be out as soon as the weather was fit and get him.

As soon as Mike heard about it, he wanted to settle it, so they agreed to meet at our house Sabbath evening. Mike and Ivy and Conza and Draxie came. I told them it was all right with me any way they settled it, if it was satisfactory with the squire; for it was in his hands. Draxie agreed if he would come to school Monday morning and apologize for what he had done, it would settle it with her. Mike thought it was all settled, so he never came about.

A few days later the squire called up and said it could not be settled out of court, but that he would try the case himself. Mike came to Draxie again, when he heard the squire was coming. He told her he couldn’t talk in public. She told him he seemed to be able to talk when he came after Witt. The weather stayed too bad for the squire to come, so Mike was indicted by the same jury we were before. He paid a fine of $25, which was more than I would like to pay for the privilege of cursing a school teacher.

Trouble for Brady and Clee Wagoner: I taught the Sunny Point school two years and had a very nice time. Conza had a hard time with her school; the children were mean and the people meddled. The next winter they got a big man by the name of Alender, who worked for Tom Jackson for a while before school, so they had a chance to tell him how mean Brady and Clee Wagoner were. The boys complained to me that they didn’t get a fair show. I knew this was so, but I told them to wait and he would find out how it was.

There got to be too much courting in school, and we told the boys some of the girls would got jealous and then there would be trouble. Some of the kids in the neighborhood would come in and say, “We are having a good school this winter,” in a hateful tone. Of course, this made us mad, but we didn’t say a word.

All at once word got around that Clee had used vile talk to John Prunty’s girl, and he had taken her out of school. Alender went to see about it, and John said it was not so. When Alender told the member of the board (Ell Douglas) that he found no basis for the charge, Douglas said it was so and he had to investigate it. The girl said it was so; Clee denied it; the girl’s seatmate said she did not hear it; and Brady, who was sitting right by, said Clee did not say it. Alender said she had not proved her case so she must apologize. She refused to do this, so he turned her out. This raised an awful stink and more charges against Clee. Alender failed to find any proof and told them so.

The next Friday noon the Board and 25 to 50 people came in. Alender took up school and went to hearing classes. Then one of the board got up and asked if he might say a word. Alender said, “Speak on.” He (the board member) said they had been sent for to come down there. Alender said he knew nothing about it, for he had received no notice. The member said he knew that was so, for they didn’t know what it was about.

After some talk it was found out that Alender was accused of being partial for not getting Clee for what they called immoral conduct. They said they intended to protect their girls (three of the accusers were the most immoral men in town) and get rid of the vipers like Clee. Alender offered if the crowd would leave that the board could inquire of the scholars and find out the truth. One of the crowd jumped up and said, “I am a taxpayer, and I came here to see that justice is done, and I am going to stay and see that it is.” The board said if that was the way they felt, there could be no trial till written charges were filed and Alender was notified of charges and date. So they fixed the date two weeks off and went home.

The crowd was mad, for they hoped to get Alender and Clee both put out of school. They were mad at Alender because he would not kick Clee and Brady out of school. If they had gotten Clee put out, they would have soon patched up some lie on Brady and kicked him out too. This crowd (not all of Berea by a good deal) was mad at Al Wagoner and me and wanted to ruin us. There was a lot of blowing done, and John Meredith told them there was nothing to it. They replied, “John, don’t you believe in protecting our girls?” John told them it was just a plot to ruin the boys and that there was nothing to it. This didn’t suit some of them very well, but John didn’t care a cent how they liked it.

When the board met, there was a big crowd there again anxious to get Clee and Alender. They had charged Alender with partiality on ten counts-nine for not investigating charges against Clee and one for expelling a girl. When the case came up, Alender proved that he had tried every case but one and had no proof and that they gave him no chance to try that one. The board ruled that the teacher was not guilty, but they reinstated the girl. If Clee was to be tried, they would have to bring charges against him and set another date. Clee told them he had to quit school and go to carrying the mail, so they dropped his case.

I may have cause to mention Clee again, but I will say right here that he graduated from Salem College with a fine name, took a course in agriculture, married a fine girl (her mother was a daughter of George Randolph). The last I knew, he was teaching in high school. In fact, he has done better than any of those that tried to ruin him back in Berea.

Some of the folks tried to get Minter Fox to whip Alender and went to see what Fred thought about their chance. Fred told them Alender would whip them both before any one could pull him off of them; so they didn’t try it. The Brakes, Jacksons, Collins and Douglases went to another school by consent of the board, which left the Berea school very small. Douglas kept his girl at home for a few days, which cost him about $12. This was the best lesson Berea ever had. Since then most anybody could teach the Berea school. So you see that good can still come out of evil.

The next spring Wagoners moved to Harrisville, which took away one of my best friends.

Experiences as Fire Insurance Agent

In the spring of 1911 I got a job of writing fire insurance for the Safe Insurance Company of Harrisville, which I followed for three summers. I was quite successful; I cleared an average of $2 a day, which at that time was good wages. I wrote in Gilmer, Tyler, Ritchie, Wood, Doddridge and Harrison counties. I enjoyed the work very much. But once in a while it looked as if some would get insurance and then cash in on it, if they got too much insurance. I tried to be careful and did not have many fires.

There was a man in Gilmer by the name of Wagoner who had a fine house. I tried hard to get him to write insurance, but he told me that he built the house himself and he knew there was no danger of its burning, so I gave him up. A few months later I passed through a village not far from his home. A friend came out and told me he had some insurance for me. He told me that Wagoner had had a fire, and he said he would write insurance with the first insurance agent who came along. I found it was in a room where ceiling paper had been used instead of lumber to seal overhead. A small boy found the fire. When the mother went up, she found the ceiling paper burned off and the paper burned about half way down all around the wall. The room was shut up tight, so there was no draft and it burned very slowly. They saved the house with very little damage. I wrote the insurance, which made me $2. No doubt a mouse or rat had carried a match to their nest, gnawed it and started the fire.

I saw a two-story house with matched oak ceiling with a hole made by fire which looked as if it had been made for a stove pipe. It was in the parlor, which had been shut up for a week. When a girl went in to sweep the room, she found ashes on the floor. She thought it had started upstairs, so she ran up there but found no way to get at the fire up there. So she came down and put the fire out down there. When they got the fire out, they found the burned remains of some stockings and old clothes which had been a nest. The house was shut up tight, so the fire had not blazed but kept live coals. These are just a few of my experiences while writing insurance.

Jennie Visited in Colorado, 1911

In the summer of 1911, Jennie went to Colorado with Watie [Sutton, her brother] to see Elzie [another brother], who could not come to West Virginia on account of his health. She had a very nice trip. She sure deserved it, for she had never been out of West Virginia except when we moved to New York. Watie and Arlie paid for her trip.

Chapter 11 – Our Children

Brady was born: It was July 28, 1896, when our first child (Brady) was born. There was no milk for him and neither of our cows’ milk was fit for him, so Watie got on a horse and swam the river to get milk for him. He was so hungry that he took two bottles of milk, then went to sleep and slept like a pig.

Pine Grove School, 1897: The spring of 1897 I taught a select school of small children in the old Pine Grove meeting house. I had a fair-sized school, which paid me well. They were a bunch of bright children and did good work. One day Jennie taught, and some of the larger girls tried to scare the little children by telling them they saw a ghost. John Bee (the doctor’s boy) just said, “All magination, all magination.” I enjoyed this school very much.

Lower Bone Creek School, 1897-1899: The next two winters I taught the Lower Bone Creek School. The winter before a girl had taught it, and she had not been able to manage it at all. They would not mind her at all and annoyed her every way they could. I had no trouble and enjoyed it very much.

February 12, 1898, was the coldest time I ever saw. It was clear as could be, but the air was full of frost-that is, the moisture in the air was frozen into snowflakes. I had a black cow in a barn by herself, and she was covered with frost until she was white. We could hear the trees cracking in every direction. I had to go one-half mile to feed my sheep, milk the cows, and feed the stock, and then go to school. It was 10 a.m. when I got to school, but there was no one there. The fire builder had stock to feed by the school house; so he had built a fire, fed the stock, and gone home for his breakfast. In one-half hour one came; in an hour three more came; and at noon Rupert and Arlie came. So we had six that afternoon-all boys. It registered 44 degrees below zero. Most of the orchards in the valleys were killed. All of the beech trees half way up the hills were killed, and nearly all of the dogwoods also were killed. Nothing like this was ever seen here before nor since. That afternoon it got much warmer, and by Monday the snow was gone and it was warm and nice.

Measles Outbreak: Erlo Sutton came to the last day of school that spring with an awful cold, felt bad all day, and in the morning he had the measles. He gave them to everyone he saw that day, which was at least 75. One girl about 15 in my school died; also, an old lady in Berea. Jennie, Brady, and I had them at the same time. Erlo had no idea where he got them. The next spring the trustees asked me to close the school a day early to avoid the danger of spreading disease.

Farming Enterprises: That spring I cut the dead trees on a field for Ellsworth and raised a fine crop of corn; it was worth only 35 cents a bushel when I husked it. Some different from what it is now!

In the fall of 1898 I bought an interest in a cane mill with Dad Sutton and made molasses until late fall. The next fall we began to make molasses the 29th of August and finished the 6th of October. After that we never made so many, for people quit raising cane. I enjoyed it, but it was hard work. We would begin before daylight and work until 9 or 10 at night.

About this time I bought an interest in a reaper and binder with Ellsworth. We did a lot of work for three years. Then people began to quit raising so much wheat; and I sold my share to Uncle Sam Stalnaker.

The Stansburry School, 1899-1900: In the school year of 1899-1900 I taught on Spruce (the Stansburry School, and may I receive forgiveness for teaching in such a place). There was just one family which was interested in an education (George Brissey’s), and they were the only ones coming at the end of the term. Mr. Brissey said he always had to furnish all the scholars the last month of school.

I had 59 in school, and 19 of them were in the first grade. Of these one was a 16-year-old boy who was almost as heavy as I was One was a girl of 6 who wasn’t larger than a pound of soap after a hard day’s washing or a minute and it half gone.

The most of these first graders had no book but a speller! I told each of them to ask their parents to get them a First Reader, for I couldn’t teach little folks in the speller. The next morning I asked the children what their parents said. Some said their mother said she would get a reader that day; others said she would get one at the end of the week. The little girl before mentioned said that her mother said whenever they learned what there was to learn in the speller, she would get them a reader. I thought, “Poor kids; they will never see a reader.” Their father was working in Ohio. When he came home, he got them a reader. Think of a country school of eight grades and 19 in the first grade!

Now this little girl I wrote about had a sister 7 and a brother 8, and the girls were too mean to live. One day I was hearing a class when they got very much amused, and I asked what was the matter. One of the class told me that Flossie was spitting on Donie; so I told Flossie to go up and sit on my seat. She began to cry and said, “Donie was spitting on me, too.” I then told Donie to go up and sit there too, which tickled her for she thought she would have a lot of fun. But when I told her I would sit between them, she said, “No.” I tried to get her to sit on the bench, but she wouldn’t so I held her on my lap. She fought and kicked and tried to bite, but I just held her while she yelled, “Let me down mister; let me down.” I held her for about a quarter of an hour; then she sat on the seat all right. They did not come back, and the mother said I was holding the girls on my lap so she had to keep them at home. When the father cane home, he sent them back.

They were liars and had little idea of honor or right. I don’t think they were as much immoral as they were unmoral. They had a very low order of intelligence; in fact, they did not want to know much. I will give one instance of lying without cause or reason. A boy got mad at a boy behind him for putting his feet under his desk and said to him, “If you don’t keep back, I’ll cut your guts out.” I whipped him. A girl got excused to go home at recess (she was 14 years old) and stopped at a house on her way home and told them we had had an awful time up there that afternoon. She said that Okey Bird had taken a knife and ripped Russell Haddox right down his belly and then cut him right across. Of course, she was bound to have known they would find out she was lying, but she just wanted to tell a lie-probably to keep in practice, but I don’t think she needed any practice.

I had trouble with a McDonald who told that I had hurt one of his boys seriously. I sent him word to show up or shut up. When I saw him, he agreed to shut up. Of course, he didn’t, because that is not the nature of such people. But it did me no harm, for I still got schools without any trouble.

Harold was born-January 1, 1900. He was a very happy little fellow who endeared himself to everyone. Of course, we did not know that he would not be with us for only two short years. (If we could only know about these things, we might be so different.)

Lower White Oak School, 1900-1901: This next summer I bought the Parker place of Aunt Polly Kelley and moved over there that fall. I taught the Lower White Oak School the winter of 1900 and 1901. This was a rather long trip, but I had a very nice school. I had a very nice First Reader class of four. They each tried very hard to be the best in the class, so I told them one day that the next day I would tell them which was the best. The next day they were all excited about who would get the honor of being the best in the class. Of course, I was likely to get in bad; but just watch what I told then. I told them that the best one in the class was the one that studied the hardest. Everyone was happy, and each one studied his best to let no one in ahead of him. One has to try many things to get the best results.

Watie and Elzie Sutton (Jennie’s brothers): Watie came home from New York with Maggie this winter. They lived in Berea for a while, and Watie got a job with Fox and Meredith. The next summer he got a chance to buy Steve Bee’s farm by the Deep Ford. I got the money for him to pay for it. He stayed here until he went to work for Flanigan. From there he went to Doddridge County to an oil pumping job, which he kept till he retired. He was a hard-working, honest, truthful man who could be depended upon every time. He and I were great friends. Every time I go to Salem, I go to see Wilma, who is his only daughter and a very nice woman with a very nice family.

While I am writing about Watie, I will also write about Elzie, who was one of the finest boys one would want to see. He went to Salem when he was a young man and went to work for Uncle Lloyd Randolph about 1902. He then went to work in Uncle James’ store. He stayed there until Uncle James broke up, when he went to work as a carpenter. In the meantime he married Ethel Lynch. He was so industrious that he exposed himself by working in the rain to finish a job and took pneumonia, which ran into tuberculosis. He went to Colorado, where he lived for ten years. Ethel and two girls are still living in Boulder, Colorado. Ethel is very industrious, saving, and a fine manager. She is a loyal worker in the Seventh Day Baptist Church at Boulder. Bobbie (the third boy) died at Berea nearly fifty years ago.

Typhoid Malaria: In the summer of 1901 Jennie was very sick for several weeks, so that we had to have a hired girl. Watie and I raised a big patch of cane, and it was very fine. A good deal of the cane was down, and it rained nearly every day. We were wet nearly all the time while we stripped it. There was lots of typhoid fever in the neighborhood, and I felt sure I was taking it. So I went to the doctor and got some dope before we got the molasses made. We had 115 gallons.

Sabbath noon, after we got through, I took a chill, went to bed and sent for the doctor. He said I had typhoid malaria. As soon as the doctor said I had the fever, the girl went home. Jennie could just walk about the house a little, and Brady was five years old. John came down that evening and gave me a sponge bath. He said he would be back the next night, but the next night he had the fever. Ellsworth had always helped, but Arley and Aunt Mat each had the fever, so they couldn’t help. The neighbors were so afraid that they would not come near. A neighbor boy (Creed Collins) came and offered to go and get me a school (I had no school), but he would not come into the house. He got me the Upper White Oak School. I was glad for that friend.

Brady gave me the medicine and water, and Mama got us something to eat. I was up in two weeks. It was in late September, and I had to stay in bed for a few days as there was no wood to warm the house until Riley Davis (our pastor) came down and cut some wood. A friend in need is a friend indeed, so I have never forgotten Creed Collins and Riley Davis.

One more I must mention. Someone (I never found out who) went to one of my trustees and told him that I had got me another school. At the same time I was in bed with the fever Tom Bee was carrying the mail in that neighborhood, so they came to the post office to ask him. He told them I had the fever, but when the time came I would be there and teach them a good school. The first chance I got, I thanked him for it; I have thought more of him ever since. Jennie’s father had the fever, and I went there and waited on them. I think there is where I got it. There were over 30 cases of fever about Berea that summer and fall, and only one death.

Whooping Cough-Harold Died, Ashby was Born: I had a fairly nice school this winter. But it was a very sad winter, for Brady and Harold got the whooping cough. When I came home at the end of the week (January 17) Harold did not come to meet me. Jennie said he was sick, that she had had the doctor and that he said it was brain fever. Just one week later (the day Ashby was born) Harold died. That was a sad day for us. We kept Brady in another room in hopes Ashby would not catch the whooping cough. It worked, and Ashby did not get it.

We had a very nice girl (Edna Campbell) working for us. Brady would get lonesome as he could not go into the room where Jennie was; so Edna would take him up and sing to him. In fact, she taught him to sing.

This winter I boarded with a Baker near the school. They had five children in school. Mrs. Baker would help them in their studies every evening after supper. There were three in the same class, and the youngest was the best of the three. They treated me very well.

Middle Fork School: The next winter I taught on Middle Fork. The winter before a girl had taught who could do nothing with the children at all. When she said anything to the big girls, they would jump up, shove up their sleeves, and tell her to look at their muscles and that she couldn’t do anything with them. They took a B-B gun to school, put a mark on the blackboard and shot at it in time of school. I soon tamed them some and had a very nice school.

I fixed up a house on Elva and Dow’s farm and lived there as it was too far to go from home and there was a river to cross. This was a very pleasant winter for us although there was some deep snow and some cold weather. We were all well and happy. We kept the house good and warm, with the best hickory wood you ever saw; and we had plenty to eat. So what more could anyone want?

Friends in Ritchie County: Yes, and we had good friends near, which made it still nicer. I wonder if we ever appreciate friends as we should. We have always had friends, but I still think of the friends back in Ritchie-Mr. Haddix, Mr. Colgate, John Meredith, Mintee Fox, Mr. Wagoner, John Bee, all the Maxsons, Jack Hudkins, Mr. Kelly, Karl Bee, Art Brissey, Maynard Brissey-yes, and so many more that I can’t begin to name them all. But I must mention Uncle Frank and Uncle Herman, Reuben and Albert Brissey, Ves Collins. Yes, and I mustn’t forget Jess Kelley, with whom we used to hunt so much.

Sun Rise School-Avis was Born, October 30, 1903: The next winter I taught at the Sun Rise School. This was a long trip, so when Marshal Ehret wanted us to move into his house and feed his cattle and let me have hay for my horse, I agreed and moved up there. Before we could move, our only girl (Avis) was born. We had a very pleasant and profitable winter there.

I will tell one thing that happened at the house while I was at school. The stove pipe went up through the roof without any flue. One day when Jennie was alone with the baby, she saw that the roof was afire. The spring was a quarter of a mile from the house. She had a pan of dish water on the table and a rung ladder set against the side of the house. She grabbed the pan, climbed the roof, threw water on the fire, and put the most of it out. Then she took her hands and scraped the coals off the shingles. She burned her hands some, but she saved the house. This took lots of grit, but she did it. The baby was only a month or six weeks old.

We did not take our cows with us as there were several there. He promised to pay for the feed for the hens if they didn’t lay enough to pay. Snow came right away, and they didn’t lay enough to amount to anything; in fact, not a dozen all winter. He did not pay me anything as he said he had left some flour and meal, which he thought would pay for the hen feed. This was no pay at all, but I didn’t say anything as I expected to stay there some more because it was handy. I fed nearly 30 head of of cattle and calves. He came out and saw his stock just before school was out and was very well pleased with them. School went very well; but, as in most of the schools, some of the children would not try to learn.

Father Died, Fall 1903: The fall of 1903 Father came to Salem for Conference, where he and many others got ptomaine poison. He got better and came out to Berea. On the train he got worse and was never out of bed after he got to Ellsworth’s. We had two doctors, but they could do nothing. As the children were all there except Virgil and Cleo, they decided to settle the estate at once. There was no will nor debts, so each would share alike. Mother Randolph said she only wanted enough to keep her while she lived; if the children would give her 4 percent of their share per year, she would be satisfied. This was very generous of her, and I feel sure the children all appreciated it.

Ashby had Scarlet Fever, 1904: We went to Commencement at Salem in 1904 and left the children at their grandpa’s. When we came back, Ashby had the scarlet fever. He was very bad for two weeks. In fact, it did not look like he could live at all. He did not cry or make any noise except when we doctored him, which was every half hour; then he would make a very peculiar noise. When he began to get better, he was too cranky to live. When we gave him a drink in a cup, if he wanted it in a glass, he would throw it as hard as he could. If he wanted it in a cup and we brought it in a glass, the same thing happened-we never knew which one he wanted.

The first day I left the house I went a half mile to hoe my corn and stayed all day. When I got home, I found Jennie scared nearly to death. Aunt Sarah Colgate had been there and told her Ashby was deaf, for he wouldn’t notice when they called to him; in fact, he wouldn’t notice anything they said or did. I told her of course he would do nothing they wanted him to do. This did not convince her, so I stepped out in the dark, picked up a board, hit the side of the house; and he nearly jumped out of the cradle. This settled the question of his hearing. He did have a lot of trouble with his ears and nose that fall and later. I think this will be enough about Ashby for the present.

Ellsworth died in 1905: Ellsworth did not have his farm all paid for. He told me in the spring of 1904 that he could pay out by selling his stock. He was killed in the spring of 1905 logging for Zeke Bee. This changed many things for me, as we had always worked together. I would help him when he needed help, and he would help me.  When Blondie was a very sick baby, we went night after night and sat up with him. Then when Ashby had scarlet fever, they came for two weeks and sat up with him. As I said before, “Never did any one have a better brother”. It was during this winter that Ashby was so very sick that he would not notice anything. We were alone for two or three days, but Ellsworth came up as soon as they heard of it and stayed all night. It was this night that he really began to improve. When something did not suit him, he cried for the first time he had made any noise for three days. Never was there a brother that stood by better than Ellsworth.

Middle Fork School: That winter I taught again at Middle Fork. A young man had taught the winter before. He had paid attention to Ada Knight, which had made the Zinn girls very angry. When school began, I found that I had a job on my hands. If I smiled at the Zinn girls, the Knight girl wanted to kill me; if I smiled at the Knight girl, the Zinn girls would try to kill me. They would not sit near each other at class. In two months they decided that Zinns and Knights were all the same to me; so we got along all okay.

One boy gave me a lot of trouble the first winter. He was easily influenced, and a big boy and girl put him up to mischief. But the second winter I got him interested. He studied hard and decided to go on to Salem, which he did and got a good education. I am always very glad when I can get a boy or girl interested in going ahead to school. I feel the school a failure if no one is inspired to go ahead along the road toward education. Every teacher should be able to fill his pupils with such a thirst for knowledge that they will never be satisfied until they have drunk deep of that fountain. I am proud of the fact that I have inspired many to go on in their studies. I am especially proud of the fact that, where no one had ever gotten a diploma from the eighth grade in one school in Braxton County, now more than a dozen have finished high school. I am proud because I know that I was directly responsible-but more of this later.

My First State Teaching Certificate, 1905: My certificate expired in 1905, and I did not try for a school. In July Mr. Mason sent me word to come up and get the Sun Rise School. He said that Port Campbell was wanting the school but that the district did not want him. Mr. Mason, Mr. Hayden, and Mr. Campbell were the trustees. Mr. Campbell could not help hire Port, so he resigned and tried to get someone else appointed who would help Mr. Hayden hire Port. Mr. Hayden said he would be glad to sign my contract. I went up to see Mr. Mason and then to Mr. Hayden. We ran him down, and he squirmed like possessed. At last he said that I could have the school, so I got a certificate. This was my first state certificate.

When Port heard I got the school, he said I could not get a certificate for I couldn’t get anything on “Grammar.” He got 65 percent on grammar, and I got 93 percent. He said the grammar didn’t suit him. It sure didn’t. Since that time Port and I have been good friends.

In spite of all handicaps, I had a fairly nice school; indeed, it was above the average, so I think.

Working in New York for Gene Jordan

Randal was Born: On February 3, 1906, our fourth son (Randal) was born. He was a delicate baby; soon after we got to New York he had a serious case of pneumonia. We were lucky to get a very fine doctor for children (Dr. Loughbead), who fixed a formula for feeding him, and he did much better on it. He was a Seventh Day Baptist at Nile, and we were very lucky that we got him.

We sold some of our household goods and left some. Very little of what we left was to be found when we got back. We took some bedding with us, but little else. The weather was fine, and we had a very nice trip. A livery man took us from Cuba (seven miles) to Gene’s. We stayed there for over a month before they could get our house ready. We had a fairly comfortable house to live in. We put in several potatoes and some corn. Gene drilled a gas well near our house, but it was not much good. Soon after this, he got a contract to drill several wells in Pennsylvania. The boys went down there with him.

He bought a new horse and came up to start harvest. When he tried to work the horse, it proved to be an awful kicker. He went back and told me to work her and they would come back and help me put the hay up when I got a lot of it cut down. They came back and put up 35 acres. He had 30 acres he wanted to get put up on the shares. I told him Brady and I could put it up (Brady was nearly 10 years old). We put the 30 acres up, for which I think Brady got about $7. This wasn’t much, but it was dear gain, and it paid Gene very well.

In the early fall Gene’s family went down to Pennsylvania. We spent the winter in their home so we would have a warmer house and be closer to the feeding and milking. We had a fine lot of winter apples. I had so much work to do and no help that I only got a start when 8 inches of snow came (the 8th of October). It only lasted a day or two, when I went on with the picking. Before I got them picked, we had hard freezing. I would just wait till they thawed out and go on picking. I finally got them all in the cellar, and we had apples till after the middle of July. Two years later the tenant did not get the apples picked till after a freeze and lost them all.

The first summer we were there, Brady caught 25 woodchucks. He would hide near their den, wait till they got away from it, then beat them to it and get them. There are a great many woodchucks in New York.

Brady had a lot of trouble in school. Some of the larger boys would beat up on him, and the teacher would just laugh at him. I, or we, got tired of this (he was having a headache all the time) and took him out of school. The teacher reported him, and the truant officer came. I was prepared for trouble, but he said that the former teacher, who lived in the district, told him the way Brady was treated and said she would not send him a day. A neighbor told him it was a shame the way he was treated and that the trustee said he told one of the boys to let Brady alone, but the boy said he would do as he pleased and he couldn’t help it. The teacher denied this, but the officer told her if she wouldn’t take care of the children he wouldn’t make them come. So he said he would get his stepson, who was a doctor, to give him an excuse. The teacher tried again, but the officer paid no attention. He told her he didn’t do his work twice.

Trading a Kicking Horse: I spoke of a horse that could kick. We called her Maud, and she could kick! She took it by spells. Sometimes she would work for several days without kicking any; then she would kick things all to pieces for a few days. Oh, she was a honey! I saw a man in Nile who wanted to trade for her. I told him she would kick some but that I had worked her at everything I tried but one and that was plowing. He wanted to know what she did. I told him she kicked, ran back, acted the fool, and did everything but plow but if we didn’t trade, I would plow her. We traded even, and he had new shoes put on the horse I got. The blacksmith where we traded told me that the man I traded with said he wouldn’t take less than $125 for her. There was a number by, and he thought he would have some fun at my expense. I just looked at him and said if she had suited me I would not have taken less than that, but she did not suit me so I let her go. The crowd roared. I never saw the man I traded with again, but I learned he was a regular horse trader so I presume he came out all right. The horse I got was a fine worker but very slow, so I came out all right, thank goodness,

Ashby and Avis: The first summer we were at Gene’s, Ashby and Avis went with me up there (Ashby was 4 and Avis was 2). When I got the team ready to go to work, I told them to run on home, which was one-fourth mile away. It was thundering, and they were afraid; so Cleo went along. Avis said, “We’s too good for thunder to hurt us, ain’t we, Auntie?” They were very good just then.

This next story was told by a doctor. He asked Cleo about her little children. She said she had no little children; they were all grown up. Then he told her that he was going by there the year before when he saw two little children playing in a swamp and he said to them, “What are you doing, little children?” The boy said, “We are catching bullfrogs.” Then the little girl piped up, “You mustn’t say that, Ippie; you must say cow frog.” Cleo knew who they were, for Avis always said “Ippie.”

Ashby had a lot of trouble with a gobbler that Cleo had. He could make it too much for Ashby. Gene had a collie pup he called Romulus which thought a lot of Ashby. Whenever the turkey would see Ashby, he would jump on him, and Ashby would say, “Come on here, Romulus, he’s coming.” Romulus would right off and run the turkey away. As soon as the turkey saw the dog was gone, back he would come; and the same talk would happen again, “Come on back here; he is coming again.” He never called for any of us to help, and the dog always ran the turkey away.

Back to West Virginia, Fall 1907

It was not a very successful year. The cows Gene bought did not prove to be fresh in the spring, as the man he bought them of said they would. We did not get much milk (which is the chief money crop in that neighborhood). Jennie was sick most of the summer and fall, and things did not look good for the future. Therefore we decided to come back to West Virginia, which we did in the fall of 1907. I sold the team and some other stuff to the renter Gene got to take our place. Gene took the man’s note for the team. For the rest of the things I got some money, a cheap railroad ticket, and a little surplus which he promised to send-but of course he never did. On the whole I made a good deal with the man, so I never worried about the unpaid balance.

Coon Hunting before We Left New York: The renter said he had a good coon dog, so Gene and the boys and I went out before we left. We got a coon in a little while, and later we treed another in a slump of trees. We decided to watch it. As it began to get daylight, we decided the coon had gotten away, so we started home. But the dog struck a track right away and in a few moments treed. Gene said he saw one and shot it out. I told him to let me have the gun, and I shot another one. This made us three coons in one night, which we thought was quite good.

We stayed in a hotel the first night in Pittsburgh. The next evening Elva met us at Pennsboro with a wagon. We lived in a house on Uncle Elisha’s farm, where he had lived for many years. I taught the Upper Otter Slide school. This was a very pleasant school with one exception. Tom Gribble got mad at me about his son Paulie and took him out of school. He raised a fuss about my being partial toward my children. I called the trustees in and demanded a hearing. They failed to get Tom to come, so they came in and told the school that there was nothing to what he was telling so I let it go. The trustees were Al Kelley, Tom Ward, and I’ve forgotten the other one. Tom Gribble objected to Ashby’s going as he wasn’t quite 6 (Tom sent his children before they were 5, and Ashby was there once).

More about Ashby and Avis: As I have already said, Ashby did not go to school the latter part of December and until January 24. One cold day Jennie got to wondering what the two were doing. She found them playing meeting. Ashby was the leader, and he told Avis to get up and speak. She said, “I don’t know what to say.” He told her to get up and say, “The Lord has gone from me, and the crows are carrying my chickens away.” How quickly children can learn to imitate older people!

Avis was very successful in getting her way with children, but Ashby had a fine way to get her to do as he wanted her to. He would say, “Avis, if you don’t do this, I won’t watch the snakes off of you.” She would always say, “I’ll do it, Ippie, if you’ll watch the snakes off of me.” She feared snakes very much and was certain that Ashby could keep them off of her. Children are so trusting, but they soon learn to doubt us for we fail to do as we say exactly all the time.

Randal Died: We were to move into Pa Sutton’s house in Berea as soon as school was out. Aunt Rachel had not moved out yet, so we had to wait a few days. I was working for Dow and had just gotten back to work after dinner when we heard Jennie calling that Randal (our baby of two years) was dying. She had carried him for about one-half mile. He was dead. Jennie thought he had choked to death, but he hadn’t. He had taken some kind of fit or spasm and died without a struggle. Had he choked, he would have struggled for breath and his face would have turned black, none of which happened. He had never been strong. We were glad he went without suffering rather than being sick and suffering for weeks. It was a terrible blow to us, especially to Jennie. Although she did not talk much about it, I doubt if she really got over it until after the birth of Elmo. Even now it is a sad thing to write about, so I will write no more about it.

A Big Bass: We moved to Berea and raised a garden down at the Polly Place as well as in Berea. One day Brady and I were down there working in the garden when Brady got tired and wanted to go down to the river. He said he heard a big fish on the riffle. I told him to go on as he had worked very well, and I thought he was tired. As soon as he got down there, he began to holler, “Come down here quick! There’s a big fish here.” I knew there was no big fish that we could catch, but I went to please the kid. When I got there, what do you suppose I found-a bass one-half as long as your arm in a hole of water 10 feet long, 3 feet wide, and 6 inches deep, with very shallow water on each side.

I told Brady to drive him up to the upper end where I had put a cross tie so he couldn’t get away, and I would kill him with a club. I didn’t think he would go below, but he seemed to be afraid of me and only came part way. All at once he went by Brady on the dead run. I yelled at him, “Now you let him get away.” The water was so shallow that he had to turn on his side and flop. Brady rushed for it and hit it on the head with all his might. That was the end of the bass! It was 18 3/4 inches and weighed 3 lbs. 14 oz. and made more than we could all eat in a meal.

A Home in Berea; Lower Room at Berea School: That fall I sold the Polly Place and bought the house and lots where we lived in Berea. I got the lower room to teach at Berea, and Ernest Campbell was principal. I did not ask for a place at Berea. When the one they gave the lower room to would not teach, I got it and had a very nice time. I had to teach the first five grades as Ernest would only teach three. He would not try to keep his boys from running over those in my room. One day at noon my room and some of the upper room were playing trim a Christmas tree when Orin Hammond came down and began to tear it up. Then Hose Brake made for him, and they had a time. Orin never bothered my kids again.

I had a bunch of girls from 8 to 10 who were said to be so badly spoiled that they could hardly be controlled. I found them as good students and as nice to get along with as one could ask. They were Guerney Brake, Jessie Hayhurst, May Douglas, Darla Bee and some others. They would do anything I wanted them to do. They each wanted to do more than the others. This winter Guerney Brake came to school the first day with the mumps. We all had them but me, and I still have not had them. Brady had them very hard, for he took a backset on them.

Auburn School, 1909: The summer of 1909 I taught a school for advanced scholars in Auburn. I had a large school, which paid me quite well. I had 40 students. I did so well with the lower room that they gave me the principal’s place the next winter. This was a much harder job, but I got along fairly well. I got the ill will of Tom Jackson and Ell Douglas, which caused me a considerable trouble.

The Grange: About 1908 they organized a Grange, which did a lot of good for a few years. Two years we had a Farmers’ Institute with fine speakers from other parts of the state. This was very fine. Then for two falls we had a Farmers’ Picnic with fine speakers. The fall of 1912 we had five or six of the best speakers in Ritchie and one (a very able speaker) from another section. There were hundreds of people there, and it was a very successful affair. I was lecturer and had charge of the program, and I think I had a small part in its success. We tried to start a Grange store. We bought a suitable building and lumber to fix it up, but we failed to find a manager. We sold the property, lumber and all so that we did not lose anything. Mr. Wagoner moved away, we went to Salem, and the Grange died.

Building onto our Home: After finishing my school at Auburn, I decided to add another story to my house as it was a one-story house. I took some of the ceiling and upper floor from the Polly House, which I still owned. This was red oak and hard maple, very fine, tongued and grooved. I also bought some fine dressed lumber at a sale very cheap. This way I was able to have a good two-story house.

Chapter 7 – Mother Died, Father Remarried

I will now go back and take up some events in my early life which changed all our lives. Mother went to church on Thanksgiving in 1887 and took sick that night. There was no doctor near, nor telephone, so a man went to Harrisville and got Dr. Hall. He said it was typhoid fever. With all the care we could give her, she only lived a week. We sent a telegram to Virgil, who was in New York. It was delayed, so he got to the church after the sermon was partly over. He stayed a week, and Father went back with him and stayed for a short time. This was the only time Virgil has been in West Virginia since he went to New York in 1882.

Cleo and Emza kept house for nearly a year. Then Emza got married, and Cleo did the work herself. This was very hard as we would have eight or ten hands in harvest. She would get up at 4 a.m., get breakfast, prepare dinner, and fix supper and take it a half mile on the hill to the hands for a five o’clock supper. Hands began at sunrise and worked till sunset then. Cleo had never been very strong, so this was too hard for her; but she never complained. In the fall of 1889 Cleo went to school in Salem, and Aunt Delilah (Father’s sister) stayed with us. Then the next year Cleo went to Alva’s at Alfred and never stayed with us any more.

We kept bach, but Father was very restless and was away a lot, leaving Delvia and me to care for ourselves-which we both enjoyed. In the spring of 1891 Father went up to Alfred to get married. He stayed for about two months. We kept house, did the work, and put in the crop. Someone told Father that Ellsworth said he had lost $500 by being gone. He never said any such a thing, he told Father when he asked about it; for he thought we got along better while Father was gone than we all three did when he was there. I doubt if Father liked that very well.

Gigging: It was while Father was gone that we asked Elva and Dow down to go gigging with us one night, as we found gigging was quite good that spring and there was no fishing on the head of Otter Slide. We split up poplar rails into small long pieces, which we tied into long fagots. We tied these up with leather bark (the bark of a small bush which peels well early in the spring, and is quite tough). These fagots are from 6 to 8 feet long, make a fine light, and burn for a considerable time. We started out as soon as it was dark. We soon found there were fish on the riffles. I carried the torch, and Elva carried the fish in a sack pouch over his shoulder. At first I had the heaviest load; but by the time we got to the bridge, the sack was heavy. In some places we saw ten fish for every one we got, but we got plenty.

Just as we got under the bridge Elva exclaimed, ”Look there.” I did, and there was a bass! It looked as if its back was out of the water although the water was over a foot deep. I told Elva to hold the torch, for I feared he would fail to get it as he had never gigged before and a bass is hard to hold. I hit that bass as if I meant to kill a bear. I hit it at the gills, and it was so deep through that it turned on its side and cut its spinal cord; and it never flopped. It was over 18 inches long. Oh, it was a dandy! When we got home, we had about a bushel of fish. Elva and Dow surely did have a great time, and I was so glad for they were the best friends we had for many years.

How I wish that Elva, Dow, Delvia and I could be together to fish, hunt and roam around over our old playgrounds! But alas, Dow is gone; Elva is not able to do anything; I am a wreck; and Delvia is far away. So we can never all meet here again. But I hope we may meet again in the future when the troubles of this life are over.

Father Returns with New Wife, Then Moves to New York: When Father was to come home, Ellsworth and Sarah went after them in the road wagon. They had to go to Pennsboro (14 miles), where they left the train. As we had a sheep to shear at John’s, we went over there to shear it in the afternoon. Just as we got back, Ellsworth drove up with the folks. Father said we would have been more presentable if we had been dressed up, but we told him we had been shearing sheep. That evening he told me I would have been more presentable if I had on collar and cuffs. Now I had asked Father to get me them before he left, and he said he never had anything of that kind when he was a boy. On Sabbath he said the same thing again, and I told him what had been said in the spring.

Delvia and I did not get along extra well with Mother Randolph, but both sides were to blame. But we never had any real trouble.

That fall I was 19 and taught my first school at Lower Otter Slide. I expected to hate teaching, but I enjoyed it so much that I decided to make it my life work.

That winter a letter came to Mother Randolph from her sister that she was very sick (she was a dope fiend) and wanted her to come at once. She went and did not return, so Father went and took Delvia with him in the spring of 1892. He offered to send me to school until I could get a first grade certificate if I would go with him. I did not go for several reasons. I got a First Grade that fall, so it would not have helped me much. I did not like Alfred, and still don’t. I had become interested in a girl (not girls), so I stayed in West Virginia. Had I gone, my whole life would have been changed and that of my family. I still am glad I did not go; knowing my disposition, I would never have been happy there.

Some Changes I Have Seen

I will now tell you of some of the changes that I can remember. The first buggy was owned by Jonathan Lowther. I was 8 or 10 years old when he got it. Mr. Brake got the second, which was the first with a top as the first one was a buckboard. Father got the third buggy. It had a top, and he sold it after Mother’s death. Mr. Brake bought the first mowing machine about 1884; Father bought one about 1887 or 1888. Father had a turnover rake made about 1885. This was about 8 feet long, so you could rake an 8-foot strip. It was pulled by a horse while you walked behind and tripped it whenever you wanted to make a windrow.

In 1892 I had never seen an auto, an airplane, a radio (in fact, none of these existed at this time), a reaper and binder nor a telephone. I had never ridden on a train nor seen a streetcar, had never heard of a refrigerator, nor seen a washing machine. We had no solid roads; for about four months out of the year the mud was so deep that a wagon could hardly get through. There were no electric lights in our section (we made candles sometimes), and all heating was done with coal or wood stoves. We knew nothing about electric milkers, bathroom fixtures, nor sweepers. Oh, things were different then! What would we do now without typewriters, adding machines, and so many other inventions that we never stop to think of?

Much to Be Thankful For

I will say right here that life has been good to me. I have had many good friends; my wife and I have lived together for over 55 years; our children have been good to us; we have enough to live on fairly well. Yes, and we still have fairly good health-so what more can we ask?

Chapter 5 – More About Parents and Home Life

One thing which we never did when I was a boy was to say Sunday, Monday, etc. We said First Day, Second Day, etc. In fact, I did not know the names of the days of the week as they are called now till I was nearly grown. I remember while Perie and Callie were in Alfred in school, they used the word, “Sunday,” in a letter. Father wrote back, “If this is what you are learning up there, you can come home.” Sunday was never used in their letters again.

Father and Mother: You can see from the above incident that Father was very set in his views. I will give a few more incidents about Father. Father and Mother were very much opposed to Emza’s marrying A. W. Coon for several reasons-she was not strong (in fact, she had T. B. and only lived about two more years); they considered him an old crank (he was about 70 years old) and not fit to marry anyone, much less an invalid. After they were married, Emza wrote; but her letter was never answered.

One other story will suffice to give a good picture of Father, except for his work in church and charity, which I will also mention. Perie spent a couple months at home the fall after she was married. They went to church meeting on Friday night and a good “Sister” got up and delivered a eulogy on Father. She told how honest he was, how truthful he was, how charitable he was. In fact, with one little change he would be just about perfect-if he just wouldn’t be quite so harsh in some of his statements. She thought she had put the “cleaner” on Father. When she sat down, Father got up and this is what he said, “I wish I could say as much for some other members of the church as has been said about me.” That evening at supper, Perie told Father that he should not have said that. Father’s reply was, “I know when I am insulted.”

I will also tell one story about the way Father paid on the church when they were building it. They were having trouble to raise the money to finish it, so Father offered to pay one-third if the rest of the church would pay the rest of the cost. This was subscribed but not all paid, so he had to help pay the rest. Someone reported Father had built the church and was going to use it for a hay barn, so you see that you can’t please some people.

Mother was every bit as liberal as Father and maybe a little more interested in the church and the church work than he.

About 70 years ago, Father was on a deal for a farm (known as the “farm with the brick house”) near the Seventh Day Baptist Church on Green Brier. Father had been out there; when he came back, he told Mother that they were trying to raise a salary for a preacher and got pledges for $13.75. Mother said, “You don’t need to buy, for I won’t go there.” The church is now dead.

Father and Mother were an ideal couple, for I have heard them each say that they never had a cross word (and I never heard them, either). There are not many couples like that!

Mother’s Sister, Rhoda: Mother had another sister, Rhoda, whom I have not mentioned so far. She had rickets when she was a child and was not strong mentally. She stayed at Grandfather’s (Doctor John) until I was about eight years old. Then it was reported that an old widower by the name of Tolls was planning to marry her for her money (he was past 70 and had very little himself), as she had about $1,000 that her father had left her. Mother and Uncle Elisha felt Tolls would use up her money and leave her with nothing to live on and no one to care for her but Mother and Uncle Elisha. So Uncle Elisha went out and got her and brought her to our place, where she stayed until some time after Mother’s death (about 8 or 10 years). Then Uncle Elisha took her to his place and kept her till she died, for which he got what she had (he surely earned every cent of it), which was a small thing for 15 years (or maybe 20 years) of care. She had a good home and good care; I am thankful.

One little incident happened while Aunt Rhoda stayed at our place. One Friday evening a spring wagon stopped at our place, and Toll and Uncle Joel came in. We knew at once that they were after Aunt Rhoda, so Ellsworth went after Uncle E. J. to come in and help prepare the strategy by which they hoped to win. It looked as if Father planned to take Aunt Rhoda in the buggy, but just before he got in the buggy (Aunt Rhoda was already in), Father told Uncle Elisha to get in the buggy and drive Aunt as he had forgotten to ask Mr. Tolls to go to church with us. So we all went to church. When we got there, the buggy was not there; and they saw nothing more of Aunt Rhoda. This was hard luck for Uncle Joel, for he was to have had $50 for the trip if he could have delivered her to Salem as planned.

Now what had happened was that Uncle Elisha had crossed the Deep Ford and gone up the river over to Pullman and on to Dan May’s (whose wife was Mother’s cousin) and left her there until the coast was clear. When they asked Elisha about her, he told them the last he saw of her, she was going West. They thought we had sent her to Uncle Nathan’s, who lived in Ohio. Toll tried to hire someone to slip her out and take her to Salem, but failed. So ends this beautiful romance in failure.

Some Stories About Alva: My brother, Alva, was by far the greatest squirrel and crow hunter of us, as he was a great shot with a rifle and had lots of patience to wait for game. He did not hunt rabbits or night hunt as he would rather read than to be out at night. One day he was down below the corn field when he ran into some young animals that he thought were young wild cats. He began to shoot; when he thought he heard the old cat, he began to yell for help. He got all three-they were young coons. One of them he got alive. These were the first coons (I was about 10 at this time) that I ever saw.

Some years later Alva was in a big woods back of our home farm when he saw a wild cat behind a tree. He could not see its head nor shoulders, so he shot where he could see. He was afraid to move for fear it would run, and he only had a rifle. When he shot, it fell over and scratched and screamed. He was afraid to go near it until he got the gun loaded; by then it had left. He followed it by the blood to a big fence. Every little bit he would see where it had fallen off the fence and had trouble to get back on the fence. He tracked it to a den but could not get it. Later it was found dead near the den. It had come out of the den to die.

It was rather difficult to get Alva to do chores about the house, so the girls would sometimes offer him special things to get him to do some of the things they wanted done. One day when Father had butchered a sheep, they offered to make some meat dumplings for some work they wanted done. Now Alva was very fond of meat, so he did the work. They made a nice batch of dumplings, but when Alva cut into one, he surely was sore and said, “There isn’t a bit of meat in them.”

I remember one more thing that I think I shall tell. All our clothes-pants, shirts, and under-clothing-were made at home. One night our hired girl (Tanie Hammond) gave Alva a new pair of pants which she had just finished for him and told him she would guarantee they would hold him. But she didn’t know what a test they would get. He got up and put his new pants on and hurried out. A little later he came out with a long face and said, “I put on my new pants and just filled them full! Isn’t that a shame?” I think so.

An Incident when Callie was Courted: I will now turn to some other members of this populous family. In the winter of 1881, Father and Mother went to Salem on a visit. While they were gone, Callie’s boyfriend (John Meathrell) came to see her and brought a black Indian pony, which he gave to her. Ellsworth didn’t like Callie’s sending for John to come see her when Father and Mother were away. So when he went upstairs to bed, he, instead, watched them to tease Callie. He soon grew tired of this and finally went to bed. Just as he went to sleep, Virgil jumped out of bed and said that he heard the shop door open. (Now, the shop door made a noise every time it opened by grating on the floor.) Virgil grabbed his pants, rushed out and called the dogs, with Ellsworth at his heels. But there was nothing wrong at the shop. When they got back, John was mad; he thought it was a joke on him until he found that it was Virgil who had heard it. He feared someone was trying to steal his horses. They went to the stable, but there was nothing wrong; so it left everything a mystery. Ellsworth always said it was an easy thing to settle-it was just that John kissed Callie. I expect that he was right! Anyone can see why John and Ellsworth never got along well. They never could have gotten along anyway.

Ellsworth and Steele Brake: I will now tell a little story about a school experience that Ellsworth had at Berea while Perie was teaching there. Steele Brake was about Ellsworth’s age and size. He made a business of getting Ellsworth down and beating him up very often. Ellsworth feared to resist; for Perie would not give one of us a fair deal. She feared people would accuse her of being partial. But Ellsworth grew very tired of being submissive.

So one day when Steele had him down flat of his back and pounding him just as he wanted to, he just reached up with his right hand (he was left handed) and pushed him up and poured his left fist into the pit of his stomach until Steele howled like a whipped hound pup. As soon as he could got loose, he ran to the house to tell how he had been treated. Of course, Perie held court to see who the criminal might be. The children all said that Ellsworth was no rougher than Steele had been. But Steele said, “Ellsworth was mad, and I wasn’t.” “How do you know he was mad?” Perie asked. “I saw the tears way back in his head,” Steele replied. The whole school yelled, and even Perie smiled. This settled the case, and Ellsworth got sweet revenge on Steele for all his bullying and didn’t get a whipping either.

A few years later, after Steele had quit school, he met Ellsworth one night as he came home from school and told him he heard he had been talking about him and if he didn’t quit, he would tan his dog hide. Ellsworth just looked at him and said, “There is such a thing as a ‘bull hide,’ and it’s mighty hard to tan.” This settled the whole argument.

I had a little trouble with one of Steele’s younger brothers when I was a boy in school. He was quite a hand with the girls, and one day at noon three of them told him they would like to kiss me. “Why don’t you?” he asked them. “We’re afraid of him,” they replied. He told them he would hold me. I just got up, took off my coat and put it on the fence. Wirt, that was the boy’s name, raved but did nothing. We became fine friends later. One evening when I was in his store where I traded, he told this story. One of those there asked him why he didn’t hold me. He replied, “I was afraid he’d whip me.”

Mr. Wasp: The common wasp used to build its nest in all the outbuildings. One day I went into one of the sheds, and a wasp was sitting on the wall. I just pointed my finger at him and said, “I am going to kill you.” Just then Mr. Wasp rose up and lit on my nose and stung me. Oh! How it did hurt! My nose got big, and Delvia told what I said and everybody laughed at me. Right here I will insert a few quotations from the Bible which I think will apply:

Let he who thinks he standeth take heed lest he fall (1 Corinthians 10:12, KJV)
Pride goeth before a fall and a haughty spirit before destruction (Proverbs 16:18, KJV).

Such is life!

Jip and Sheep: When I was about 8 years old, Father bought a yellow “bone-legged beast” from Harrisville. We called him “Jip.” Now Jip was a good rabbit dog and not much good for anything else. We let our sheep and lambs run out in the road early in the spring before the grass started in the field, as the grass would start earlier along the river than in the fields. Jip would get and run the sheep. Ellsworth took care of the sheep and didn’t like to have them run.

One evening we were at the barn doing the chores when we heard the sheep coming (one of them had a bell) with Jip after them as hard as he could run. Ellsworth picked up a two-inch cube which had been sawed off an oak scantling. The sheep went by as hard as they could run with Jip after them, grunting every jump. As soon as the sheep passed, Ellsworth leaped out of the shed door where he had been hiding and let loose with that left hand. The block took Jip square to the side of the head and knocked him over the bank next to the river. He got up, yelling like a possessed one, and ran to the house like Satan was after him. That was one dog who was broken of sheep-chasing, for Jip never ran sheep again.

Alva and the Sheep: Ellsworth had always cared for the sheep; but when I was 12 years old, Father decided that Alva should care for them that spring and summer. When grass came, Alva turned the sheep out in a field we called “Poverty Point” (which was in the far end of the farm a half mile from home and adjoining a big woods). We had a part of this field in corn and beans, and Mother went up to see it. When she came back, she said she could carry all the corn and beans up there in her apron (and this wasn’t so far wrong), so we called it “Poverty Point.”

The first time Alva salted the sheep, which was about twice a week, he said one little lamb was missing. In about two weeks he reported nine more lambs missing (they would have weighed from 40 to 60 pounds each), and he couldn’t find them. On search, the nine were found near the woods, partly covered up with leaves. Their throats were out and they had been partly eaten above the necks. They seemingly had been killed one each night. The sheep were moved to another part of the farm, and no more lambs were bothered; but Alva never took care of the sheep again. His mind was too much on books.

About two years later a neighbor (Ves Parker) killed from 5 to 10 cats. (The cat that I told about Alva’s shooting was in the same woods.) So the lambs were revenged!

The next fall after the lambs were killed, Father gave Delvia and me charge of the sheep; and we never had any more killing.

Chapter 2 – My Early Childhood

I was born on the Right Bank of the South Fork of the Hughes River on September 7, 1872. The old homestead was about one mile below Berea, which at that time was frequently called “Seven Day Town.” I have no specific memory of the event, but I presume I was about as unpromising a brat as could be found in seven counties, for my first memories which I can recall make me think I must have been “small potatoes.”

Falling in a Lime Vat at the Tan Yard: At an early age (probably two or three, for I had on my first pair of pants) I wandered up to the tan yard, which was about 150 yards away. Among other attractions was a lime vat-this was a wooden box 6 by 4 feet, set 4 feet in the ground and was nearly full of water in which had been poured enough lime to take the hair off the hide (or a little boy)-and I proceeded to walk right into it. Luckily there were some hides in it, so I did not go over my head.

Ellsworth, who was ten years older than I, ran up, grabbed me by the hair and pulled me out. Father came running out of the shop with a leather apron on, which he always wore when he worked in the shop, and yelled, “Take him to the run; take him to the run!” There was a hole of water in the run about ten steps away; Ellsworth ran down there, threw me in and rolled me over and over. Providence seems to care for children, as well as fools, so the lime water did not get into my eyes.

There were no other bad effects except I got my new pants wet. (It was the first time I had worn them.) I had no others, so they put a dress on me. Doctor Hall, who had been our family physician for many years, came to see mother that night and made fun of me, calling me a “girl.” All is well that ends well, and I never fell into a vat again.

A Flood: In 1875 or 1876 we had a great flood. The water ran knee deep back of the house. I remember two things about this flood. It was in the night, and we felt the house shake and heard a great noise, which scared us. Upon investigation it was found that the rain had loosened a large stone on top of the chimney, and it had rolled down the roof and fallen onto the ground. The river went down very rapidly. In the morning one of the boys went out in the garden and found three or four nice big fish in a puddle of water. As I remember, they were some 12 or 15 inches long. I presume I helped eat them, but I have no memory of that.

A Deer and Dogs: In the early winter of 1876 I saw my first and only deer until after I was grown; in fact, it was the only wild deer I ever saw in Ritchie County. One morning a neighbor came rushing into the house to get the rifle. He said there was a deer out there. A hound had run it into the field, but the deer was tired of being chased so it turned and chased the hound out of the field and home.

We had two big dogs, one of which was a large greyhound that had caught a deer before. The dog caught the deer as it passed, but his teeth were so poor he could not hold it, so the deer just knocked him over and went on. This made Pete (the other dog) mad, for they were chums. He did not intend to have his friend picked on by any low down sinner while he was around. Now Pete was round and fat and never had been able to run much. It so happened that mother was having a quilting that day, and all the women ran out and yelled with all their might (which was plenty). Pete went wild.

That was some race! I stood behind the house and watched it. The deer was making great leaps (it seems to me every leap carried it ten feet) while Pete was running with his feet more stretched out, his belly close to the ground like Satan was after him. I can see it all as plain as if it were yesterday. The deer had 75 yards start when Pete started after it, and it had one150 yards to the road. Just as the deer’s tail went over the fence Pete’s nose went up.

Father was crippled so he could not go fast, so he told some of the men to hurry up there; for he knew they would meet on the ice (which was just strong enough to hold them up). One of then would surely die, as Pete feared nothing and a deer is very dangerous with its horns. Before the men could reach the scene, we heard the deer bawl (I can still seem to hear it). Emza was the first to arrive there and saw the two meet. She said Pete’s nose was at the deer’s shoulder when it turned to hook him. He grabbed it by the nose, ran between its front legs, and threw it on its back. When Uncle Elisha got there, he was chewing at its throat. Father sold the deer to a Prunty, but kept the heart and liver, so I got to taste it. Since then I have eaten venison several times, but none that I killed.

About noon the owner of the hound came and demanded pay for the deer. Father paid him although he had no right whatever to it. Father would rather give him the money than to racket with him. His name was McDonald, and the worst trouble I ever had in school teaching was two McDonalds (one in Ritchie and one in Taylor County). I would still be afraid to have dealings with a McDonald.

My First Farming Enterprise-Chickens: I will now record my first memory of farming. When about three years old, I went into the chicken business. I have heard Father and Mother tell about it many times, and I also remember it myself; so I know it’s no fake. This is the way they told it-I would run around with my pants down and a hen under each arm. I would take a hen to a box, fix a nest, put the hen on it, and make her stay there till she laid. By the time I was four or five years old, we could take a hen, put her on a nest anywhere we wanted to (if she was a setting hen), and she would sit there without being covered up. This sounds big, but it is true. I can still see myself, about as big as a bull frog, running around with a hen under each arm, with a dirty face and hands and a smile on my face, for I thought I was of some use in the world.

When I was about ten years old, our chickens got the cholera. When it stopped, we had one hen left out of about one hundred. She was a pure white hen and a pet which a neighbor woman (Ora Bee’s mother) had given me. We never had such a tame flock of chickens again as I had to work some after this.

A Fall into the River: The first day I went to school was a very rainy one. I was wearing a cloak. We had to cross the river on a foot log. Virgil was afraid Cleo or I might fall off the log, which was floating on the water. Just as he got Cleo over, he heard a splash and turned around to see me floating serenely down the river with my head up out of the water. The cloak had spread out on the water and held me out of it from my shoulders up. Virgil had told me to wait till he came back for me. Nevertheless he rushed back to the center of the river, jumped in, overtook me and landed me about 150 yards down the river.

Thus I had been twice saved from the water-once from drowning in the river and at least from the loss of my eyes in the lime vat. (If Ellsworth had not been so prompt in snatching me out of the vat, I would have been down, the water would have gotten into my eyes, and I would have never seen again.) So I owe much to my older brothers.

Anecdotes about Delvia: Probably it would be well to tell a couple or three anecdotes about my baby brother Delvia. We burned coal in an open grate. He loved to come in from outdoors and back up to the grate to warm his back. One day he came in, backed up to the grate, and stood there until someone called to him, “Delvia, you’re burning.” He moved very quickly, but not quickly enough to save losing the seat of his pants. Luckily the fire did not go much deeper.

Still Delvia would back up to things (which is never safe, for you cannot see what is behind you). One day he came into the kitchen, backed up to a chair, sat down, and wished he hadn’t. In that chair was a pan with 10 or 12 dozen eggs, which were on his seat in the form of scrambled eggs.

Chapter 1 – Family Connections

My Parents: My father, Asa Fitz Randolph, was born in Salem in 1833, the son of Doctor John Fitz Randolph, being the only son by the first marriage. He had five half brothers—James, Reverend Gideon Henry (who was a Missionary to China about 1890), Joel (who was chief of police of Salem for many years), Steven and Thomas. These are all deceased. Two of the sons of Uncle Henry are Seventh Day Baptist ministers—John is pastor at Berea, West Virginia; and Wardner is missionary in Jamaica, British West Indies.

Mother, Marvel Maxson, was born on Greenbrier in 1832, the daughter of John Maxson. Her mother was one of a large family of Bees, all of whom were Seventh Day Baptists. The most famous of these were Ezekiel, (who was pastor of the Pine Grove Church at Berea for many years) and Ehriam (who went to Richmond to the state legislature before the war).

Mother had one sister, Annetta (who married Grandfather for his second wife), and two brothers, Nathan (who moved to Ohio about 1865) and Elisha John (who spent most of his married life on Otter Slide near Berea). Her father, John Maxson, was a very consecrated Christian and a local preacher. As nearly all the Randolph ministers from West Virginia were direct descendants since their mother or grandmother was a daughter of John Maxson, this, I feel, was inherited from him. Her brother Elisha lived to be past 97 in years.

Father ran a tan yard for Grandfather and had a tan yard of his own until he left West Virginia. I will mention several experiences in the tan yard later in this article.

The chance for schooling was very limited, and Father never got more than three quarters or nine months of schooling until after he was married. He had a felon on the thumb of his right hand which kept his arm in a sling for 18 months. Part of this time he went to school. Later he cut his leg very badly; as soon as he was able to ride, he went to school. He read much and was especially good in figures. In fact, one of his teachers said that he did not need to study arithmetic—he could make one. His interest in education is shown in the fact that of the nine children who grew up, all went to college at least a year, and five have a degree.

Mother was as much interested in education as Father, but she did not have as good a chance as he. I think she could read about like a third grader. She was a very great worker; in fact, I have heard her say that the only request she made of Father before they were married was that he would furnish her plenty of work. She was also an excellent manager. I believe there is no doubt but what she had much to do with his making a success financially.

Father and Mother were married in the fall of l852 at Washington, Pennsylvania. (The grandchildren and the great-grandchildren must skip this.) They eloped! Father said that Grandfather promised him if he would stay at home until he was 21 he would give him the shoemakers trade. But when he arranged to stay, Grandfather forgot the deal; so Father did too. (This should be a lesson to all parents, except me, to keep their word.)

They lived on the waters of Bone Creek for a while, then on Middle Island until 1857, when they bought the farm on the South Branch of the Hughes River, a mile below Berea, where I was born and reared.

My Siblings: There were eleven of us, of which I was the ninth. Two died as infants, but the rest of us grew up and married. There are four of us still living—Virgil, who is 90; Cleo, 80; myself, 78; and Delvia, soon to be 74. We are a long-lived family. Callie lived to be 94, and Alva was 81.

Of the nine, Perie was the most noted; she became a Seventh Day Baptist preacher. She married when she was 35 to Leon B. Burdick, whom she educated and made a preacher. They had one daughter.

Callie married John Meathrell and spent her life on a farm near Berea. They had four children—Julia, Rupert, Conza, and Draxie (who married Ruben Brissey). They are all living.

Emza married the Reverend A. W. Coon and died a few years later.

Virgil taught a few years after finishing college, then became a farmer. He married Mary Wells. They had one son, who is now an engineer.

Ellsworth bought the Hise Davis farm from Father, married Sarah Stalnaker, and settled down on the farm. He had a fine team of horses and did lots of logging in the winter. While logging for Zeke Bee in the spring of 1905, he was accidentally killed. He and I had been more than brothers—we had been companions for years. If one needed help, the other helped him. If there was sickness, the other was there to help in any way possible. Things have never been quite the same since his death. They had one child, Blondie, who is now principal of a school in West Virginia.

Alva married Mary Hoff. He finished college at Alfred with the best grades of anyone who had ever graduated there. He settled down near Alfred and became a famous farmer and leader in farm activities. They had five children—Fucia, Elizabeth, Lowell, Florence and Vida. Florence died in young womanhood, shortly after she married. Elizabeth is an ordained minister of the Seventh Day Baptist denomination. She is now a traveling evangelist.

Cleora (Cleo) went to New York, taught for some years and then married Gene Jordan. Gene died a few years ago, and she is now living in Pennsylvania with one of Gene’s boys, Leon.

Delvinus (Delvia) went through school at Alfred, married and moved to California for his wife’s health. They had two children, but I never knew anything about them. He is retired now and living with his second wife.

The last two mentioned, Cleo and Delvia, and I were inseparable from earliest childhood. Where one went, we all three went. We would go after the cows together until Cleo was almost grown. We had a deal with mother in which we were to feed and care for the chickens and gather the eggs. When we took her twelve eggs, the next one was ours. We made lots of money, for eggs were often worth 5 cents or 10 cents a dozen. We really felt we were in business. Prices are just a little different now.

Mother died when I was 15; three years later Cleo went to New York; and then in 1892 Father took Delvia to New York, which broke up this trio. Oh, that we three could be together for at least a few days! But we are separated by many miles, and none of us has the money to travel so far, I fear, and age is creeping up on us. Blessed are the memories!

Grandfather, Dr. John Randolph

Before I begin the record of my own life, I think I had best give a paragraph to my Grandfather Randolph, as I have already given a short account of Grandfather Maxson. Doctor John Randolph was the son of Jesse Randolph by his first wife, whom he married soon after coming to Salem with the church in 1792. Doctor John was much better educated than most of those of his day. He was a stone mason and helped build the Pike through Salem. He practiced medicine without any special preparation, so was called Doctor John. He had a very keen mind, but I think was very self-willed.

I will give one anecdote about him. Uncle Elisha and he went to a revival meeting down at Bristol. A girl who had worked for Grandfather for years went down the aisle shouting her best, and Grandfather called to her, “Where are you going, Bet?” She replied, “To heaven, I hope.” Just then she reached a young man who had been going with her and threw herself into his arms. Grandfather said, “You have got there now, Bet!”

15f. (Seth) Albert Lewis

Seth Albert Lewis was born September 24, 1870.

(seth) Albert Lewis

(Seth) Albert Lewis

He married Mary Lulu (Lou) Jones May 31, 1896.

Lulu "Lou" Lewis

Mary Lulu "Lou" Jones Lewis

She was born to John Wesley and Mary (Johnson) Jones on June 11, 1872 in Raleigh, IL.

Albert and Lou had 12 children

  1. Ruth born 11/18/1896, died 10/20/1912
  2. Hugh born 2/21/1899, died an infant 8/11/1900
  3. Florence born 4/28/1900, died 11/3/1979,  married Earl Hancock.  They both are buried in Sunset Lawn cemetery at Harrisburg, IL
  4. Mildred born 6/25/1902, died 6/7/1935
  5. Evelyn born 3/13/1905m married Romeo Todd, both buried in Joyner Cemetery.  I remember riding ponies they kept – lots of fun for a young boy!
  6. Frank born 1/11/1907, died an infant 5/7/1907
  7. Leland 4/22/1908.  Graduate of Salem College, West Virginia.  A teacher, and dedicated family historian.
  8. Joseph born 8/2/1910,  died 11/21/1973, buried in Joyner Cemetery.  He always introduced himself as “Joe Lewis from Saint Louis”
  9. Benjamin born 6/18/1929, died 8/26/1965, buried in Joyner Cemetery
Joseph, Albert, Benjamin and Leland - 1924

Joseph, Albert, Benjamin and Leland - 1924

Seth Albert Lewis was the second son born to Robert and Minerva Oshel Lewis.  He grew up helping his father in all phases of agricultural farming and livestock raising, and it was said that he was depended upon to a very great extent in this.

He secured all possible education available at that time through the elementary schools, and took courses at the high school level.  On May 31, 1896 he was married to Mary Lulu (Lou) Jones in Stonefort, IL.  They had nine children, and spent their married life on their farm near Stonefort.  Albert was a farmer, always raising enough hay, grain and other livestock feed for horses, cattle, higs, chicken, etc.  He also did a considerable amount of truck farming, raising vegetables for home use.  On December 7, 1919, Lou died, and Albert moved to the nearby town of Carrier Mills where his daughters could go to high school.  He worked in the coal mines, and his sons took jobs after school and in the summers.

Albert was killed by an out of control motorist on Dec 4, 1927.  He, Lou, and most of their children are laid to rest at the Joyner cemetery.

Chapter 1 – Overview

Chapter 1 – Overview

This book was written primarily for descendents of Samuel Howell Lewis, who was born March 12, 1796 in Mecklenberg County, VA; married Henrietta Mabrey July 4, 1818 in Warren County, NC; believed to have had children James, Samuel, Hardin and Ansell; later married Jane Darnell and had children Benjamin Darnell, Ann, Robert, and William Baugh; moved to Southern Illinois with his three youngest sons Benjamin, Robert and Will about 1845 after Jane died; died November 28, 1867 in Pope County, IL and was buried in Joyner Cemetery, Stonefort, Saline County, IL.  This book may be of interest to other descendents of the “Warner Hall” Lewis family as well.

One shortcoming of this book is the relatively little information on descendents Samuel’s sons Dr Ben and William, as well as Samuel’s older children and their descendents. I would be delighted to have contact with any of these descendents and gather more material that could be included in a future revision.

This is written in as straightforward a manner as possible.  Deciphering Welsh history and names was anything but straightforward, twisting both the tongue and brain.  I have tried to integrate much information and distill our history to its essence.  Family Notes are included in several chapters to tie in locations, historical events and people who are not our direct ancestors.

Acknowledgements:  This work could not have been possible without the efforts of family history researchers whose work this report is built upon.

Leland Lewis, whose passion for family history led him to travel widely to research family history. He interviewed many people familiar with our family, and preserved stories and lineage of Samuel Howell’s descendents in his book Lewis Genealogy 1557 – 1982. His stories of family and the area around Stonefort were an inspiration to dig deeper into our roots. Much of the information about Samuel Howell and his descendents comes from Leland’s book, and his descendents have very graciously allowed me to include it in this booklet.

  • Dr Malcom Harris, whose discovery of the grave of John Lewis on Poropotank Creek near Adner, Virginia in 1948 led to unlocking the mystery of our ancestry. He was a country doctor with a keen interest in the history of the area where he practiced medicine, and spent much of his life collecting and publishing that history.
  • Grace McLean Moses, whose unrelenting determination to discover factually supported historical information led to the deciphering of the coat-of-arms on the grave of our immigrant ancestor John Lewis, as well as tracing his history in Wales and Virginia. She documented her research in the book The Welsh Lineage of John Lewis (1592-1657) Emigrant to Gloucester, Virginia, ISBN 0-8063-4542-X. Dr Susan J Daves of the University of Wales was the principal researcher, conducting her extensive work in 1983/ 84 at the National Library of Wales.
  • Col Edgerton Sorely who wrote “Lewis of Warner Hall, The History of a Family” in 1935, providing much valuable information on descendents of Councilor John Lewis of Warner Hall. Although his ancestry of the Lewis family of Warner Hall was borrowed from earlier published works, and is inconsistent with source documents uncovered through recent research, his book is a wonderful source of information on Councilor John Lewis and his descendents. One omission that is significant to our branch of the family is the fact that he does not list Robert Lewis of Mecklenberg as a child of Robert of Granville.
  • John Cook, who transcribed source records across many states which he later published in his four volumes of the book Pioneer Lewis Families. This excellent reference is no longer in print, but can be found in select libraries.
  • David Brown and Thane Harpole, archaeologists who worked at Warner Hall, and published Warner Hall, Story of a Great Plantation, ISBN0-9763585-0-6
  • Dr Edy MacDonald, the driving force behind the Lewis DNA Project.
  • John Davies, author of A History of Wales. Until recently he was a member of the Department of Welsh History at the University of Wales at Aberystwyth. He wrote this book in Welsh, and later translated it to English. The book is an excellent source of Welsh information and is easier to read than others I encountered on this history journey.

There has been heated controversy for at least 100 years among Lewis families in America about their origins, and we need to address it now so it does not cause some readers to be distracted later in the book.  One strongly held and widely published story by multiple Lewis families in both Virginia and New England is that their emigrant ancestor is one “General Robert Lewis”, son of Sir Edward Lewis of the Van and Lady Ann Sackville, who come to America with his wife Elizabeth on the ship “Blessing” in 1635, and received a grant of land of 33,333.3 acres.  Several Lewis books state this “General Robert Lewis” is the ancestor of the Lewis family of Warner Hall, while others state he is the ancestor of their separate line.

Here is the data that leads me to not accept General Robert Lewis as our emigrant ancestor:

  • a Robert and Elizabeth Lewis sailed to the New World on the Blessing on July 16, 1635, but according to the Public Records Office in London the ship sailed to New England, not to Virginia where our ancestors landed
  • Robert and Elizabeth Lewis landed in Salem Massachusetts, then moved to Newbury Massachusetts where Robert died in 1644
  • Although Sir Edward Lewis of the Van and Lady Ann Sackville had a son named Robert, there is no record linking Robert Lewis of the Blessing to them
  • The coat of arms used by the Warner Hall Lewis family is not the same coat as Sir Edward Lewis of the Van
  • There has been no military or civil record found of a “General” Robert Lewis in either England prior to 1635 or Virginia following 1635. In fact, the British War Office has no record of any officer of any rank named Robert Lewis at that time
  • All Virginia land grants from 1634 forward are recorded, and there is no grant for 33,333 acres to anyone with the last name Lewis during that era
  • The grave of Isabella Miller, mother of Councilor John Lewis of Warner Hall, is one of the graves in the same small family cemetery as that of John Lewis who emigrated to America in 1653. Those grave stones, and the multiple church, court and land records that survived the Revolutionary and Civil Wars, link our Warner Hall Lewis family to the emigrant John Lewis buried in that cemetery.

Fitz Randolph Family (my Mother’s maiden name)

Fitz Randolph

 

Fitz Randolph is my mother’s maiden name. She grew up outside Salem, West Virginia, a town that was built on land purchased by her Gr. Gr. Gr. Grandfather, Samuel Fitz Randolph. She graduated from Salem College, where she met my father, Harry Lewis, when they were both students.

 

I have not done original research on this genealogy, and am indebted to past researchers including:

 

Oris H. F. Randolph, who compiled the book Edward Fitz Randolph Branch Lines Allied Families and English and Norman Ancestry, A Family Genealogy 860 – 1976, copyright 1976, Library of Congress number 76-50733

 

Louise Aymar Christian and Howard Stelle Fitz Randolph who wrote Fitz Randolph Genealogy in 1950 and Supplement in 1955.

Planned enhancements are the addition of images of individuals as well as locations related to the family.

Appendix B — Descendants of Ashby F. Randolph and Ruth Content Bond Randolph

Synopsis of Lives of Sons and Daughters


Ashby Bond Randolph

Bond graduated from Bristol High School in May 1944. He had begun his freshman year at Salem College before his 18th birthday, so he got a deferment from military service until he completed that year of college.

Bond was drafted into the U.S. Army in July of 1945, and he married Ruby Oldaker on December 24, 1945, on his first leave from the service. He was sent overseas to Germany; then returned and was discharged in January of 1947. Ruby continued her previous employment at the Weston Glass Plant until April of 1947, when Bond obtained his first job.

Bond’s first job was as a truck driver on a strip mining coal operation in Weston at $1 an hour; he then became oiler on a shovel for the same company at $1.20 an hour. He became a bulldozer operator in August of 1949 and earned $1.70 an hour. By this time, they had three sons and Bond’s work was not always steady; but Ruby did not work outside the home.

In August of 1950 Ruby asked Bond to return to college on the GI Bill so they could have a better future for their family. He did return to college and graduated from Salem College on May 29, 1952.

With a college degree he found work as a janitor for the Hope Natural Gas Company at $7.49 per day. He did not enjoy this inside work and quit the company in March of 1953. He sold hospital insurance for a company for about three -months, and one policy he sold was to the son of a superintendent for the Hope Natural Gas Company. The superintendent was so impressed with Bond that he offered him a position with the company again as a field worker. Bond accepted and he worked as a casual laborer for the company until December 1954, when he was hired as a regular employee. He was promoted to Utility A classification in April of 1957 and chosen as a Trainee in Safety on May 1, 1958.

Bond became a Safety Engineer November 1, 1958, and was promoted to Safety Director for the company on July 1, 1960. From this time his work was in the administrative offices in Clarksburg, W.Va. The company merged with another company and became known a s Consolidated Gas Supply Corporation; and Bond was named Manager of Safety on March 1, 1965, the position he still holds today. The company recently reorganized and is now known as Consolidated Gas Transmission Corporation.

Bond and Ruby have four sons. Because he has always worked long hours and frequently been away from home, he did not want Ruby to work outside the home. She has been a life-long homemaker, a position she has always enjoyed. She likes to call herself a “Domestic Engineer.” She has done quite a bit of volunteer work; at one time she worked one day per week as a volunteer at the local Veterans Administration Hospital for a period of five years.


Xenia Lee Randolph Wheeler

Xenia Lee graduated from Bristol High School in 1945. She and Edgar were married that summer. Edgar graduated from Salem College in 1947. They, with their new daughter, Annita Marie, spent the summer in Florida working with Pastor Elizabeth Randolph holding two-week Bible Schools and evangelistic meetings in Palatka, Carraway, and Florahome, Florida. That fall the family moved to Plainfield, N.J., where Edgar got his college debts paid off by working as linotype operator at the Seventh Day Baptist Publishing House.

In April of 1948 Edgar began his first full-time pastorate at the Seventh Day Baptist Church in Hammond, La., while he attended seminary at New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary. Edgar has served churches in Louisiana; Athens and Paint Rock, Alabama; DeRuyter, New York; Salemville, Pa.; Ashaway, R.I.; Denver, Col.; and Nortonville, Kans.

Xenia Lee enjoyed being homemaker, wife, mother, and grandmother, supplementing Edgar’s income at home as she typed, sewed, or babysat.


Alois Edmund Randolph

Alois graduated from Bristol High School in 1947. He served in the U.S. Army during the Korean War, 1951-1953. He was in the 4th Signal Battalion of the 10th Corps and served in Korea.

After his discharge from the Army, Louie attended Salem College three years. Then he went to Columbus, Ohio, where he worked first at Lattimer-Stevens (a factory -making gauges) and then at Buckeye Steel. Then he worked at Westinghouse for 14 years, 12 of those as foreman. While he was still working at Westinghouse, he worked during vacations and other times driving truck and moving furniture. Since he quit at Westinghouse, he has been driving trucks and doing some office work for Harvey Pugh Trucking Company.

Louie married Mary Ann Young soon after he went to Columbus, and they have lived in that area since then. They lived two years in Columbus, four years in Shadeville, and for the past 23 years in Grove City. They have two daughters and three sons.


Elsie Mae Randolph Lewis Bottoms

Mae graduated from Bristol High School in 1948 and from Salem College with a degree in Secretarial Education in May 1951. That spring she married Harry Vernon Lewis, who was a freshman at Salem. Harry had spent four years in the Navy in World War II and had driven truck across country for one year before he came to college.

After Mae graduated, she and Harry moved to Carbondale, Illinois. Harry graduated from Southern Illinois University with a Bachelors in Elementary Education and a Masters in Education Administration. While he was in school, Mae worked a year as secretary in the Government Department at SIU. Harry taught junior high at Edwardsville, was principal and taught eighth grade at Percy, was principal of the Greenup Elementary School for four years, and then was principal of Cumberland High School one year when he died suddenly in April 1961.

After Harry died, Mae completed a Masters degree in Business Education at Southern Illinois University. She taught for two years at Johnston City High School in Illinois. In 1965 she moved to Almond, N.Y., and has taught in the Executive Secretarial Department at SUNY Agricultural and Technical College at Alfred for the past 19 years. For five years she was chairperson of the Executive Secretarial Dept., from 1974-1979.

In 1979, Mae married George Daniel Bottoms. He had just retired from a career in park work in the Chicago area. He had been superintendent of engineering for the DuPage County Forest Preserve. As such, he had done much work in the development of park grounds and facilities.

George and Mae bought a home with 4 1/2 acres at Phillips Creek, N.Y. (about six miles from Alfred). Here George has spent many hours growing beautiful flowers and marvelous vegetables, making improvements in their home and grounds, and fishing.


Edna Ruth Randolph Richards

Edna Ruth graduated from Bristol High School in 1950 and attended Salem College for two years. At the end of her sophomore year, she married Donald Richards, who graduated from Salem that year. He was in ministerial training, and they moved to Alfred, N.Y., where he attended Alfred Univ. School of Theology and graduated in 1955.

Don (with Edna Ruth as a helpmate) has served pastorates in Berea, W.Va.; Dodge Center, Minn.; Verona, N.Y.; and Marlboro, N.J. While they were in Verona, Edna Ruth cared for two mentally handicapped children who were placed by the State–Tina and Kathy. They had to leave these children when they left New York State, but Edna Ruth did not leave her interest in helping children with special needs.

Soon after they moved to New Jersey, Edna Ruth began working at Evanoff Guidance Center, where she worked with retarded children in preschool. She completed her degree in special education at Glassboro State College in 1976. Soon after completing her degree, she began working for the Shiloh School District, teaching special educa

tion for older children. She also was certified as a family trainer and worked with the families as well as the children. About Christmas time, 1978, when she went to the hospital for gallbladder surgery, she found that she had cancer in the liver. After trying various treatments unsuccessfully, Edna Ruth died at her home on January 2, 1980.


Rex Main Randolph

Rex graduated from Bristol High School in 1952. He attended Salem College one semester; then he married a neighbor girl, Phyllis McClain, the following spring. They have lived within a mile of both his and her parents most of the time since their marriage. In 1959 Rex built a new home on property between the McClains and Dad and Mom Randolph. Phyllis cared for her parents during their last years when they were not well. Both she and Rex have also done much to look after the needs of Mom and Dad Randolph over the years.

Rex has worked at several jobs in the Clarksburg area. He worked for Montana Lumber Company (making pallets) for one year. In 1954 he began work at Pittsburgh Plate. He worked in the tank department in shipping for three years, as a clerk for two years, and then in the machine shop. Pittsburgh Plate changed its name to TPG Industries and closed its Clarksburg branch in 1974. Rex was offered the opportunity to move with the company, but he declined. After 20 years with the company, Rex had lost all benefits and was out of work.

Since that time, Rex has worked as layout man for General Machines in Clarksburg. Phyllis has worked at various times caring for sick people in their homes.

Rex and Phyllis are both active in the Lost Creek Seventh Day Baptist Church, where Rex is a Deacon.


Cleo Elizabeth Randolph Boyd

Beth graduated from Bristol High School in 1956. She attended Salem College for two years. The following summer was spent in service to the S.D.B. Women’s Board, working in Bible Schools and camps. On Aug. 4, 1958, she married Joe Boyd, and they set up housekeeping in Salemville, Pa.

Joe drove tractor trailer truck for a little while and then went to help his dad on the farm. When his dad quit farming, he went back to driving truck. A back injury caused a change in occupation again. This time he went to work as custodian at a local grade school.

During this time Beth came to the conclusion it was time she get into the money-making act if they were to successfully raise four children. Since her children were top priority in her life, she decided to get into the school system as teacher aide. From there, she began taking college courses and substituting in the grade schools.

Finally, in 1973 she went back to Salem College and graduated with a Bachelor’s degree in Elementary Education. She has been teaching in the Northern Bedford County Schools ever since, except for a year and a half, which was spent with their new baby and caring for her while her hip was being rebuilt.

Joe tired of being a custodian in just a few years and went back to driving an 18-wheeler. He has worked for Smith Trucking in Roaring Spring now since 1972.

Beth and Joe are both members of the diaconate of the Bell Seventh Day Baptist Church at Salemville, Pennsylvania.