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Me and the Mardasson Memorial

As this previous post suggests, I have been participating in my own personal scanfest of late. Since March of this year, I have uploaded 7.7 GB to my cloud drive. That's 4,430 images and 25 videos. (Some of the files came from my digital camera, to be fair.) If only I were close to being caught up!

I have been curious for years about one of the photos I scanned just this morning. It's a picture of me, on a rainy day, standing in front of some sort of monument / memorial. I think I was about 8 or so years old. All I knew for sure is we were in Europe. (I so stink at geography.)

I searched images online using characteristics seen in the photo: "American monument shaped like a star" (or something to that effect). I tried to place it in France first, but got close enough to find the truth with Germany, I think.

Anyway. I discovered I was standing (in my yellow slicker, no less!) in front of the Mardasson Memorial. Check me out:


The Mardasson Memorial, located …

Combining the Front and Back of a Photo when Digitizing (an Off-Topic, Superimposing Post)

Did you get my feeble attempt at a double entendre? (Heh, Heh.)

Since a lot of genealogists and family archivists read this blog (big thanks!), I thought it might be worth passing along this little tip I stumbled upon this morning. While I have no doubt this trick has been done over and over by other quicker thinkers, it was a light bulb moment for me. :-)

I was digitizing a few photos that also contained captions on the back. (Grandpa Lincecum did a pretty good job remembering to do that on most occasions. That in itself is a rare find!) I wanted to combine the front and back so as to have the caption -- in his writing -- stay with the front image. I simply used the collage feature in Google's Picasa to do so with a couple of these, like this:


Well, one of the front-back collage attempts wasn't working the way I wanted. I guess it had something to do with the size of the photo. Anyway, I was playing with the collage settings, clicked on Multiple Exposure, and violĂ !


Pr…

Is Man Different From Fish or Hogs? (a Spoon River Epitaph)

A sweet co-worker recently introduced me to Edgar Lee Masters' Spoon River Anthology, a collection of free-form poems written as epitaphs for deceased residents of a small town. S graciously lent me a copy of the book, and I have since found an online edition. Though these epitaphs are fictional, I hope you'll permit me to share some of my favorites with you here.

Schroeder the Fisherman (pg 124)
I SAT ON the bank above Bernadotte
And dropped crumbs in the water,
Just to see the minnows bump each other,
Until the strongest got the prize.
Or I went to my little pasture,
Where the peaceful swine were asleep in the wallow,
Or nosing each other lovingly,
And emptied a basket of yellow corn,
And watched them push and squeal and bite,
And trample each other to get the corn.
And I saw how Christian Dallman's farm,
Of more than three thousand acres,
Swallowed the patch of Felix Schmidt,
As a bass will swallow a minnow.
And I say if there's anything in man --
Spirit, or conscie…

Ignorantly Accidental Overdose (This Time It's Personal)

Leslie Lee Lancaster was my (half) 2nd great grand uncle. But he never made it to adulthood. You see, when Leslie Lee was a little over a year old, having a bit of a hard time while teething, someone gave him a tad too much morphine. Overdosed while teething. Ouch. I cannot imagine how his parents felt -- whether one or both were "the cause", or not.


The official cause of death was listed as "Ignorantly accidental (overdose morphine)". The secondary factor was "Teething."
Leslie Lee Lancaster was laid to rest in Hickory Grove Cemetery at Morley, Scott County, Missouri. I've submitted a photo request via FindAGrave. Fingers crossed for a marked (and labeled!) grave.

Dr. Holtzclaw Suicides (This Time It's Personal)

When conducting any kind of historical research, coming across a suicide always gives me pause. Even though it's not always a conscious act, I know I'm taking a brief moment to mourn the loss. A loss I don't pretend to understand. With the recent passing of Robin Williams, I'm reminded that those who seem to "have it all" sometimes are wrestling with demons unseen.

In 1922, two days after his 63rd birthday, Dr. Henry Macon Holtzclaw, Jr. took his own life. Why? Heaven only knows. Following from 22 January 1922 edition, Macon Daily Telegraph (Georgia) -- via GenealogyBank:
DR. HOLTZCLAW, PERRY, SUICIDES

Prominent Physician Shoots Self in Head With Pistol.

REASON FOR DEED UNKNOWN

Found in Bed Dying By Brother; Funeral Will Be Held Today.


PERRY, Ga., Jan. 21. -- Dr. Henry M. Holtzclaw, 63, prominent citizen of Houston county, died tonight at 8:30 o'clock from a bullet wound in the right temple, it being self inflicted between the hours of 9:30 o'clock…

Peasant Girl and Her Son (a Spoon River Epitaph)

A sweet co-worker recently introduced me to Edgar Lee Masters' Spoon River Anthology, a collection of free-form poems written as epitaphs for deceased residents of a small town. S graciously lent me a copy of the book, and I have since found an online edition. Though these epitaphs are fictional, I hope you'll permit me to share some of my favorites with you here.

Elsa Wertman (pg. 79)
I WAS A peasant girl from Germany,
Blue-eyed, rosy, happy and strong.
And the first place I worked was at Thomas Greene's.
On a summer's day when she was away
He stole into the kitchen and took me
Right in his arms and kissed me on my throat,
I turning my head. Then neither of us
Seemed to know what happened.
And I cried for what would become of me.
And cried and cried as my secret began to show.
One day Mrs. Greene said she understood,
And would make no trouble for me,
And, being childless, would adopt it.
(He had given her a farm to be still.)
So she hid in the house and sent out rumor…

Life Without Meaning is Torture (a Spoon River Epitaph)

A sweet co-worker recently introduced me to Edgar Lee Masters' Spoon River Anthology, a collection of free-form poems written as epitaphs for deceased residents of a small town. S graciously lent me a copy of the book, and I have since found an online edition. Though these epitaphs are fictional, I hope you'll permit me to share some of my favorites with you here.

George Gray (pg. 49)
I HAVE STUDIED many times
The marble which was chiseled for me --
A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor.
In truth it pictures not my destination
But my life.
For love was offered me and I shrank from its disillusionment;
Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid;
Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances.
Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life.
And now I know that we must lift the sail
And catch the winds of destiny
Wherever they drive the boat.
To put meaning in one's life may end in madness,
But life without meaning is the torture
Of restlessness and vague desi…

Irresistible Disgust, and Unspeakable Regret (a Spoon River Epitaph)

A sweet co-worker recently introduced me to Edgar Lee Masters' Spoon River Anthology, a collection of free-form poems written as epitaphs for deceased residents of a small town. S graciously lent me a copy of the book, and I have since found an online edition. Though these epitaphs are fictional, I hope you'll permit me to share some of my favorites with you here.

Harold Arnett (pg. 37)
I LEANED AGAINST the mantel, sick, sick,
Thinking of my failure, looking into the abysm,
Weak from the noon-day heat.
A church bell sounded mournfully far away,
I heard the cry of a baby,
And the coughing of John Yarnell,
Bed-ridden, feverish, feverish, dying,
Then the violent voice of my wife:
"Watch out, the potatoes are burning!"
I smelled them...then there was irresistible disgust.
I pulled the trigger...blackness...light...
Unspeakable regret...fumbling for the world again.
Too late! Thus I came here,
With lungs for breathing...one cannot breathe here with lungs,
Though one must…

Silence Poisons the Soul (a Spoon River Epitaph)

A sweet co-worker recently introduced me to Edgar Lee Masters' Spoon River Anthology, a collection of free-form poems written as epitaphs for deceased residents of a small town. S graciously lent me a copy of the book, and I have since found an online edition. Though these epitaphs are fictional, I hope you'll permit me to share some of my favorites with you here.

Dorcas Gustine (pg. 35)
I WAS NOT beloved of the villagers,
But all because I spoke my mind,
And met those who transgressed against me
With plain remonstrance, hiding nor nurturing
Nor secret griefs nor grudges.
That act of the Spartan boy is greatly praised,
Who hid the wolf under his cloak,
Letting it devour him, uncomplainingly.
It is braver, I think, to snatch the wolf forth
And fight him openly, even in the street,
Amid dust and howls of pain.
The tongue may be an unruly member --
But silence poisons the soul.
Berate me who will -- I am content.

War, Jail, and a Woman (Spoon River Epitaphs)

A sweet co-worker recently introduced me to Edgar Lee Masters' Spoon River Anthology, a collection of free-form poems written as epitaphs for deceased residents of a small town. S graciously lent me a copy of the book, and I have since found an online edition. Though these epitaphs are fictional, I hope you'll permit me to share some of my favorites with you here.

Knowlt Hoheimer (pg. 26)
I WAS THE first fruits of the battle of Missionary Ridge.
When I felt the bullet enter my heart
I wished I had staid at home and gone to jail
For stealing the hogs of Curl Trenary,
Instead of running away and joining the army.
Rather a thousand times the county jail
Than to lie under this marble figure with wings,
And this granite pedestal
Bearing the words, "Pro Patria."
What do they mean, anyway?[Pro Patria is a Latin phrase that translates to 'for one's country.' Apparently, "Knowlt" had other reasons for joining the Army. But is the reason typed above, or …

Poisoned Benefactions (a Spoon River Epitaph)

A sweet co-worker recently introduced me to Edgar Lee Masters' Spoon River Anthology, a collection of free-form poems written as epitaphs for deceased residents of a small town. S graciously lent me a copy of the book, and I have since found an online edition. Though these epitaphs are fictional, I hope you'll permit me to share some of my favorites with you here.

Constance Hately (pg. 15)
YOU PRAISE MY self-sacrifice, Spoon River,
In rearing Irene and Mary,
Orphans of my older sister!
And you censure Irene and Mary
For their contempt for me!
But praise not my self-sacrifice,
And censure not their contempt;
I reared them, I cared for them, true enough! --
But I poisoned my benefactions
With constant reminders of their dependence.

Proclamation From the Dust (a Spoon River Epitaph)

A sweet co-worker recently introduced me to Edgar Lee Masters' Spoon River Anthology, a collection of free-form poems written as epitaphs for deceased residents of a small town. S graciously lent me a copy of the book, and I have since found an online edition. Though these epitaphs are fictional, I hope you'll permit me to share some of my favorites with you here.

Amanda Barker (pg. 15)
HENRY GOT ME with child,
Knowing that I could not bring forth life
Without losing my own.
In my youth therefore I entered the portals of dust.
Traveler, it is believed in the village where I lived
That Henry loved me with a husband's love,
But I proclaim from the dust
That he slew me to gratify his hatred.

Graven By a Fool (a Spoon River Epitaph)

A sweet co-worker recently introduced me to Edgar Lee Masters' Spoon River Anthology, a collection of free-form poems written as epitaphs for deceased residents of a small town. S graciously lent me a copy of the book, and I have since found out there is an online edition. Though these epitaphs are fictional, I hope you'll permit me to share some of my favorites with you here.

Cassius Hueffer (pg. 14)
THEY HAVE CHISELED on my stone the words:
"His life was gentle, and the elements so mixed in him
That nature might stand up and say to all the world,
This was a man."
Those who knew me smile
As they read this empty rhetoric.

My epitaph should have been:
"Life was not gentle to him,
And the elements so mixed in him
That he made warfare on life,
In the which he was slain."
While I lived I could not cope with slanderous tongues,
Now that I am dead I must submit to an epitaph
Graven by a fool!

B. T. Bethune Swam the Chattahoochee River Horseback

Benjamin T. Bethune was born in Milledgeville, Georgia 12 March 1848. At the age of just sixteen years, he enlisted in the Confederate Army at Columbus. About a year after he enlisted, at the time of surrender in April 1864, Benjamin was separated from his company. His commander had sent him out on scout duty to watch the enemy's advance on the city. This information was gleaned from Benjamin's 1910 Confederate pension application.

As I continued reading the application, there was found a neat little tidbit about Benjamin T. Bethune. When asked why he was not with his company at surrender, B. T. supplied the information stated above and added that he was cut off by the enemy. He was then asked, "What effort did you make to return?" The reply was Swam Chattahoochee River Horseback. Wow.

More details were learned about Benjamin's life after the Civil War by reading his obituary. The following was posted in Milledgeville's Union Recorder 31 August 1920, …

Rest Up, Mr. J. J. Tinley (Soldier Saturday)

A few days ago, I received a nice email from Mr. Dennis Roland, providing an obituary for a Find-A-Grave memorial I created almost six years ago for Joshua J. Tinley. I posted it to the memorial, of course, and now here.


JOSHUA TINLEY DIES AFTER SHORT ILLNESS

Mr. Joshua J. Tinley died at his home in Rutland district Sunday morning at senven [sic] o'clock after an illness of only a few days.

He was one of Bib [sic] County's best known citizens and farmers and was a man of refined gentle manner. He was beloved by the entire community in which he lived. Mr. Tinley was a Confederate veteran and was a gallant soldier, having served throughout the Civil War with the exception of nine months, being a prisoner for that time at Lookout Point, Maryland, until the surrender of the Confederate army. He is survived by his wife and two children, Mrs. P. H. Comas and Mrs. Jno. C. Ellis.

The funeral will take place at his late residence, known as "Rest Up," deriving its name from hi…

James Madison Alden: a Possible Connection and Missed Opportunities

James Bowie was my 2nd cousin (7x removed). You know, the guy who designed the Bowie knife and fell at the Alamo. Well...I think so, anyway. I cannot yet personally prove the relationship, and there is conjecture among family historians of the Lincecum - Bowie connection. To put it plainly, it seems some of the Bowies don't want to claim the Lincecums. I don't know why, really. I guess a famous naturalist is not as cool as a "knife maker". (She said with tongue firmly in cheek.)

The real subject of this post, anyway, is James Madison Alden. He was first married to Charlotte Elizabeth Bowie. That (might!) make him the husband of my 3rd cousin, 6x removed. James led a neat life, at least in his early years. He joined the Navy and began work on the west coast of the United States in 1854, when just 20 years old, as an artist / cartographer for the U.S. Boundary Commission. He spent his days drawing the views before him. Here is one of my favorites, dated 18…

Julia's Cross (Tombstone Tuesday)

In Memory of Julia Eveline Wife of Dr. J. T. Dickinson, of Albany, GA Died Aug 6th, 1867 Aged 35 years
Greensboro City Cemetery Greene County, Georgia
Photo © 2013 S. Lincecum

Isaac Stocks, Revolutionary War (Soldier Saturday)

Isaac Stocks Pvt GA Troops Rev. War 1795
Greensboro City Cemetery Greene County, Georgia
According to a U.S. Headstone Application for Military Veterans, Isaac's grave site was not marked with the stone pictured above until 1939.

The One Whose Death was Swallowed Up in Victory

Georgia Baptists was published just two years before the death of Thomas Stocks. A section of the book contains biographies, one of which is devoted to him. It should be called an autobiography, though, since Thomas wrote the piece himself. The bulk of the article is of course devoted to Thomas's connection with the Baptist faith. Here are a couple of snippets chronicling two event dates that made it to his tombstone:
I was born the 1st of February, 1786, in an Indian fort, near my present residence, in Greene county. The Oconee river was then the line between the whites and the Creek Indians, who were so troublesome as frequently to drive the whites into forts...The men worked in squads, a few days on each farm, and had to put out sentinels to protect them from surprise while at work. While most of the men were thus employed, the Indians frequently attacked the forts, but were invariably repulsed, a few prudent men and the women defending them successfully...This state of th…

Annie Derry Jones (Wednesday's Child)

~ Greensboro City Cemetery in Greene County, Georgia

Henry Burns, Rebuilt and Upright

When I visited Greensboro City Cemetery (Greene County, Georgia) almost a year ago, this stone appeared to have recently been put (back) together and reset.  Indeed, a photo from about 2011 posted to FindAGrave shows this stone lying on the ground.  As can be easier seen from the back, the contraption you see in the photo is holding the stone together in place and upright.


Henrietta's Precious Dust Reposes Here (Today's Epitaph)

In Memory of
Henrietta M. Dawson
Wife of Hon. William C. Dawson
And daughter of Dr. Thomas and Sidney Wingfield
Born in Washington, Georgia Oct 7th, 1801
Died in Washington City, D.C. April 7th, 1850
And here her precious dust reposes.

Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord.


She was blessed with a strong intellect,
admirable judgement,
and peculiar gentleness
of disposition.
As a member of the Social Circle
and of
the Church of Christ,
she will be remembered
for her cheerfulness
and piety
harmonious and attractive.

AS DAUGHTER,
Sister, Wife and Mother,
she was exemplary, pure and lovely
in all
HER KINDNESS OF HEART, AND
the beautiful proprieties that adorned
her character;
have left,
for those who knew her, a hallowed
and precious fragrance
which can never be destroyed.

"We hear thy voice. It cometh oft
In sorrow's gush and memory's swell
When sigh we for its welcome soft
Or whisper of its sad farewell.
It comes with happy tone and blest,
And bids us to thine own sweet rest.…

Ann Thornton and Sweet Babe Sarah

It's easy to notice Mrs. Ann Foster Thornton died at a young age -- just 27 years.  Looking at the back of her ornate tombstone, I might have found a clue as to why.


If Sarah Pierce Thornton is Ann's sweet babe, then one or both might have died due to complications of childbirth. They rest at Greensboro City Cemetery in Greene County, Georgia.

Shared at Cemetery Sunday.

Alfred Cranford Murdered. Sam Hose Lynched.

**Caution: this post may not be for the faint of heart; possible controversial topic ahead.**

The funeral of Alfred Cranford was held today. His wife stood by his grave, but showed no sign of emotion. It is feared that her mind has become unbalanced as a result of the terrible ordeal she has just passed through,... ["Palmetto Citizens In Arms", Augusta Chronicle (Georgia), 15 April 1899, pg. 1]

Alfred was buried at the Cranford Family Cemetery in Newnan, Coweta County, Georgia. His cause of death was murder by axe, and the act was perpetrated in front of his wife and children. Witnesses placed blame on Sam Hose, and the infamous manhunt resulting in a horrific lynching commenced.
ANOTHER HORROR AT PALMETTO

Alfred Cranford, Murdered By Negro Brute and Wife Assaulted.

FELLED HUSBAND WITH AXE.

Both Crimes Committed in Presence of Four Small Children -- Brute Ran From House and Made His Escape -- Bloodhounds on His Trail -- Citizens of Newman
[sic] Join in Chase.

Palmetto, Ga…

Ada Died of T.B.

Even after researching my family history for many, many years, I'm still saddened when I find out a relative, no matter the distance, died young. In this instance, the young age is 49. Ada Rhodes was born about September 1875 in Washington County, Georgia to T. P. and Fanny (Martin) Rhodes. Death came 23 May 1925 in Wheeler County, Georgia. The cause of death was simply indicated on her death certificate as T. B. Ada suffered with the disease of tuberculosis for at least five years.


Upon her death, Ada was buried in Erick Cemetery. Her husband, Lucien E. Avant, joined her some 32 years later.

Parted Only By Death (Tombstone Tuesday)

Father
Emanuel Aultman
b. Jan 27, 1830
d. May 29, 1915
Asleep in Jesus
-----------------
Mother
Mary Aultman
Wife of E. Aultman
b. Nov 11, 1830
d. Jan 16, 1914
Asleep in Jesus

"Deaths and Funerals: MRS. EMANUEL AULTMAN
REYNOLDS, Jan. 17 -- Mrs. Emanuel Aultman, 83 years old, died at her home here this morning. When she was 18 years of age she was married to Captain Emanuel Aultman, who survives her. They have therefore lived together 65 years. Mrs. Aultman is the mother of Dr. Rhett Aultman, of Meigs, Ga., Judge Hollis Aultman, of Reynolds, and of Mrs. Mims, Mrs. Mathews, Mrs. Long and Miss Dovie Aultman, all of whom reside here."
[Macon Telegraph (Georgia), 18 January 1914, pg. 10. Via GenealogyBank.]

Sad Story of Sophia's Burial at Sea

The old photo at right is of an obelisk standing to memorialize the life of Charles Hyatt Richardson. He was born in 1830 at Sumter, South Carolina, and died at Byron, Georgia in 1886. Dr. Richardson was buried at Byron City Cemetery. Since I have a (very) distant connection to him, I poked around a bit in Charles's life and discovered a sad story regarding the death of his mother.

Sophia Hyatt was born 27 March 1804, the daughter of Charles Hyatt. She married John Smythe Richardson 9 April 1827 in Providence, Rhode Island, and they moved down to South Carolina. Elizabeth Buford Richardson wrote about Sophia in her book A Genealogical Record of the Richardson and Buford Families (published 1906; digitized here):
She was delicate, but the change from the northern clime to this southern home agreed well with her; she took on flesh which made her even more beautiful. She was intelligent, cultured, and well read, and she kept up with the leading topics of her day. Although it was mo…

Willard Ervin Abernathy's Standard Certificate of Death (This Time It's Personal)

No tombstone photo today. I would like to share with you a "this time it's personal" death certificate, instead.

I must tell you the information found on this document was of no surprise to me. However, I can only imagine what a researcher would think if they came across Willard's death certificate with no prior knowledge of the circumstances surrounding his untimely end.

Willard Ervin Abernathy was a son of Harry J. Abernathy and Gladys Marie Campbell. He was born 31 July 1935, and he died about 7 on the morning of 5 June 1948 in Cape Girardeau County, Missouri. What was the cause of this twelve year old's death?
Shock & Hemorrhage, Due to being shot by a 12 gauge double barrel shot gun. The charge going into the right frontal bone.Process that for a moment.

The document further states the death was considered an accident, and the "injury" occurred on "Roy Grindstaff farm."

Willard was buried the next day at Plainview Cemetery in Bollinge…

Only Confederate Soldier Buried at Andersonville National Cemetery

Camp Sumter, more commonly known simply as Andersonville, was one of the largest Confederate military prisons of the Civil War. More than 45,000 Union soldiers were held there, of which about 13,000 perished. Those 13,000 graves were eventually provided headstones, largely due to the efforts of Clara Barton, and a national cemetery was established. Today, upwards of 20,000 veterans and family members rest at Andersonville.

Yet one individual stands out as being the only Confederate veteran buried at the national historic site: Sampson Boze Kitchens.

He was a private in Company C of the 10th Georgia Regiment, enlisting in 1862 at the age of 17. Despite the (obvious) constant dangers of soldiering during a war (including at least two stints in the hospital), Boze survived and was present for the surrender of Confederate troops at Appomattox Court House, Virginia. [Information gleaned from Confederate service records at Fold3 and Confederate pension applications at Ancestry.]

Sampso…

Mary Alma Avant: A Discrepancy in Dates

Mary Alma Avant was buried at Liberty United Methodist Church Cemetery, known simply as Liberty church, at the time of her death. The "family burying ground" is a plot located behind, or maybe more beside, the church as it stands today.


What is a little confusing is the date of death on her tombstone is 10 April 1915. However, an obituary states her death took place on 1 April 1914 [Macon Daily Telegraph (Georgia), 2 April 1914, pg. 7. Via GenealogyBank.] --
DEATHS & FUNERALS

MISS ALMA AVANT.

Miss Alma Avant, 33 years of age, died yesterday morning at an early hour at the home of her father, J. R. Avant, near Walden. Besides her father she is survived by three sisters, Mrs. E. W. Lipford, Mrs. J. F. Hammock and Miss Jessie Avant; also one brother, George Avant.

Miss Avant had many friends in the Walden neighborhood and in Macon who are grieved over her death. The funeral will be held today at noon from Liberty church, Rev. M. W. Carmichael officiating. Interment will…


blog.SouthernGraves.net

The hand of the Lord came upon me and brought me out in the Spirit of the Lord, and set me down in the midst of the valley; and it was full of bones. Then He caused me to pass by them all around, and behold, there were very many in the open valley; and indeed they were very dry. And He said to me, "Son of man, can these bones live?"

So I answered, "O Lord God, You know."

Again He said to me, "Prophesy to these bones, and say to them, 'O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord!' Thus says the Lord God to these bones: 'Surely I will cause breath to enter into you, and you shall live...'" (Ezekiel 37:1-5, NKJV)