Ghost Town Wednesday: Indianola, Texas
Indianola is referred to as the “queen of Texas ghost towns” and could actually be filed under two Digging History Wednesday categories – ghost towns and wild weather. German immigrants began settling in the area in the mid-1840’s and in 1846 the town of Indian Point was established. The location was ideal as a deep-water port during the Mexican War and was the chief port of debarkation for thousands of European immigrants who would settle the western parts of Texas.
After the area was surveyed and lots were sold the town began to grow. In September of 1847 the post office opened and a few months later stagecoach service was established. The nearby town of Karlshaven had been home to some of the first European immigrants (Germans) and in February of 1849 the two communities merged and became known as Indianola.
With its rapid growth Indianola won the right to be the center of government for Calhoun County. Hotels, newspapers and other businesses were added and in 1853 the town was incorporated. By 1860 the town’s population was over one thousand, and although there were few slaves in the area, residents voted overwhelmingly in favor of secession.
As a strategic deep-water sea port Indianola was targeted by Union forces. On October 26, 1862, Union gunboats bombed the port, looted the town and occupied it before withdrawing about a month later. Union forces returned again in November of 1863 and remained until the following year.
Following the Civil War Indianola continued to grow with its status as the second largest Texas port. By 1875 the population had grown to more than five thousand but its location at sea level left the town vulnerable to violent weather.
On September 16, 1875 Indianola was struck by winds of 110 miles per hour – the town was literally blown away. Five or six days later details began trickling in — the news was devastating. One Kansas newspaper called it “The Most Severe Flood Since the Days of Noah.”1 Initial reports estimated loss of life between 100 to 150, although impossible to pinpoint exactly.
Businesses, homes and churches were swept away. District Attorney D.W. Curin made a desperate plea for help: “We are destitute, and our town is gone. One-tenth of the people are gone. Dead bodies are strewn for twenty miles along the bay. Nine-tenths of the houses are destroyed. Send us help, for God sake.”2
Although the town was rebuilt, albeit on a smaller scale, the population began to decline and in 1880 less than two thousand called Indianola home. The “nail-in-the-coffin”, so to speak, came when a second hurricane struck on August 19, 1886 – this one more devastating than the first. Not only did wind and water destroy much of the town, but a fire broke out when winds blew over a kerosene lantern.
While other locations in Texas were affected, including San Antonio, Indianola’s devastation was complete. Understandably, Indianola residents were dispirited and demoralized. Some houses which managed to survive the storm were moved further inland. The town’s ice warehouse was floated across the bay and converted into a house.
One headline succinctly summed up the devastation: “A City in a Bad Place”.3 In late February of 1887, the Southern Pacific Railroad removed its track from Indianola to Port Lavaca, meaning a total abandonment was at hand. The loss of life (around four hundred) and damage to property was much too much to overcome. The county seat was moved to Port Lavaca and on October 4, 1887 the Indianola post office was permanently closed
Today there are very few remnants of the town, but some of the surviving structures can be seen at Victoria and Cuero, transported there following the second storm. Now a small unincorporated fishing village, the site is home to just a few residents. In 1963 Indianola was designated as a Texas Historic Landmark.
Galveston suffered an even more devastating storm fourteen years later. As Erik Larson pointed out in Isaac’s Storm, no one seemed to have grasped the significance of Indianola’s two devastating storms. Even though Galveston proposed to build a seawall, it never happened. In 1900 Galveston had its own devastating storm, a story that was featured in the March 2018 issue of Digging History Magazine.
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Tombstone Tuesday: Charles C. Mack
Charles C. Mack was born on January 4, 1810 to parents Jesse and Mary Ann (McCollister) Mack in Washington County, New York. It appears that Charles might have still been living with his parents in 1830, but around 1832-1834 he married Sophia Brown. Their first son, Jesse William, was born on Christmas Day of 1834. Three daughters followed: Emily (1836), Sarah (1839) and Emma (1841).
Emily died in 1841 at the age of four years, about eight months before Sophia gave birth to Emma. Sophia died on October 21, 1846 and Charles married a woman by the name of Caroline (maiden name unknown). In 1850 the Mack family was enumerated in Washington County, but not long afterwards, perhaps around 1852-1853, they migrated west to Minnesota Territory.
Charles Mack and his family were among the first settlers of what would become Blue Earth County, an area familiar to readers of Laura Ingalls Wilder’s book series. Mankato was the most prominent early settlement in the county. By the spring of 1852 most of the land around Mankato had been staked into 160 acre plots and more settlers began to arrive.
The area was also home to Sioux Indians, but on February 14, 1853 the United States Congress ratified two treaties which stripped the Indians of all land in Blue Earth County and beyond. A few weeks later on March 5, Blue Earth County was created by an act of the Territorial Legislature. Initially, the county was quite large, embracing “all of the State of Minnesota south of the Minnesota river, except the counties of Wabasha, Dakota, Goodhue, Rice, Scott, Filmore and that portion of Le Sueur which lies east and north of Wi Wi Creek opposite St. Peter.”4
The territory had first been claimed by the French in the early 1700’s and passed to Spain and back to France by the early 1800’s as part of the Louisiana Territory. Napoleon, fearing the territory would land in the hands of the British, sold it to the United States. The territory was later re-apportioned and until June of 1834 was part of Missouri when it became part of Michigan Territory. In April of 1836 Wisconsin Territory (which included what would become Minnesota) was created. Two years later it became part of Iowa, and on March 3, 1849 Congress finally granted Minnesota its own territory.
Presumably, the Mack family arrived sometime after the territory was organized. On August 6, 1853 the first board of Blue Earth County commissioners met in Mankato. There the county was divided into two election precincts, Mankato and Babcock’s Mill. C.C. Mack was designated as one of the election judges for the Mankato precinct.
Charles immersed himself into civic affairs of the newly formed county. Also organized at the August meeting was the county’s first petit and grand jury. C.C. Mack was chosen as one of the grand jurors.
Settlers continued to arrive and by 1855 several settlements were established in other parts of the county. Charles and his son Jesse were among those who relocated along the Blue Earth in the Shelby township. By 1860 the county was home to more than forty-eight hundred residents, with Mankato home to 376 families and Shelby home to 71 families.
Early that year a large party of Sioux had attacked the Chippewas of the Upper Mississippi. Upon their return to a camp near Mankato they celebrated their victory (more than a few scalps included). In early June the Chippewas came looking for vengeance, resulting in damage claims of almost $17,000 by local residents.
In 1860 a report indicated that almost four hundred families of Winnebago Indians lived in the area, some residing off the reservation in Wisconsin. Children were educated at the agency school, learning the basics of arithmetic, reading, grammar and geography. Girls were also taught house work. The report, however, did not incorporate the true picture of life for the Indians, including: “[T]he number of gallons of whisky consumed, the quarrels between themselves, and between them and the whites, the stealing from the Indians by the whites, and from the whites by the Indians, the filth and degradation everywhere.”5
In March of 1861 the Winnebago Treaty of 1859 was fully enacted whereby the Indians ceded the four western-most townships of their reservation in exchange for eighty-acre farm allotments to each family. As it turned out, the Indians were short-changed and protested the radical changes to their ancestral rights, this while the white population was calling for the removal of all Indians. The following month the United States was rent in two as the Civil War began. Clearly, President Lincoln and his administration had, as they say, “bigger fish to fry.”
Residents of Blue Earth County rallied to the Union cause and by the summer of 1861, “the whole land was ablaze with patriotism. The flag was everywhere in evidence.”6 The county’s recruits began to depart, but “so engrossed were the people everywhere in the great war they never thought of any peril at their own doors.”7
The county’s men were sent south leaving, as it turned out, their own homes defenseless. The Sioux Indians had been restless and angry over seeing their lands given to the whites. The Sioux had been promised payments from the federal government in June of 1862, but by August were experiencing great hardship due to the government’s inaction.
Frustration and anger boiled over and mushroomed into a massacre after several young Sioux quarreled with a whiskey trader. They shot him and others member of his family before a council of war was called. On August 18, government officials and traders were massacred, including soldiers, and the village’s buildings ransacked and burned.
News of the massacre began to spread throughout the county. Fields were abandoned as farmers and their families fled to the communities of South Bend, Mankato, Garden City, Vernon and Shelbyville. In some cases several families would crowd into one small log cabin. Barricades were erected and town buildings such as hotels and mills were utilized for shelter. Now without any military help available the residents of Blue Earth were on their own.
A group of ten mounted volunteers was dispatched to the village of New Ulm to investigate reports of Indian attacks. There they were confronted with the seriousness of the situation after finding several mutilated bodies. Help finally arrived, however, and on August 24 Mankato and South Bend were placed under martial law. Later the town of New Ulm was successfully defended as reinforcements arrived at Fort Ridgely. Despite the resurgent military presence, the killings continued. On September 14 four people were killed near Mankato while threshing wheat – troops were just a mile away. By this time, the Chippewa were volunteering their services to fight the Sioux.
By the end of September the uprising was subdued and trials began in October. On December 6, 1862, President Lincoln signed an order approving the execution of forty Sioux later that month. Interestingly, many of those condemned to die had been exposed to Christian teachings and two were professed Christians, Robert Hopkins Chaskay and Peter Big Fire.
Hopkins had actually been instrumental in rescuing white settlers at the Upper Agency and he and Peter Big Fire had started a spiritual revival among their fellow prisoners. Prisoners were actually anxious to hear about the Christian faith:
In their defeat by the whites the Indians seemed to regard their Gods as also defeated, and all their old superstition overthrown. Their pride was broken and their confidence in themselves gone. The white man’s civilization appealed to them as something worth having. It made him so superior to the Indian in power and wealth. The God who gave him such mysterious advantages over the red man must be the great God, and they would worship him, too, and become like the white man.8
Three hundred warriors remained in chains until on April 22, 1863 they were transported via steamboat to Davenport, Iowa where they remained until their sentences were commuted in the spring of 1866. Those surviving were taken to a new Sioux agency in Nebraska. Many were disenchanted with agency life and began to adapt to the white man’s culture.
The government had established Winnebago and Sioux reservations, but supplies never seemed to arrive on time as promised, giving rise to more hostility and anger. By the spring of 1864 Indian raids began anew and casualties began to mount. On the afternoon of August 11, a small band of Dakota killed Noble Root and wounded his two sons.
The Indians continued on to Shelby where they found some grazing horses, captured and drove them toward a fence in order to corral them. Charles Mack’s son Jesse, James Hindman and Cornelius Fox were working in a nearby field and the Indians noticed they too had some horses. They saw the Indians and quickly sprung into action, Jesse prodding the team to a gallop, madly racing toward Willow Creek.
Jesse hid his horses in a grove of trees and borrowed a neighbor’s gun. The Indians continued to pick off horses, however, and soon came upon Charles Mack, known around the community as “Squire Mack”, as he was cutting hay. Of course, the Indians wanted his horses and following an argument shot Charles dead. They continued their rampage through the community before escaping to the south.
Residents were alarmed at news of this fresh incursion and gathered that evening to make plans to defend their homes. Charles Mack’s body was found face down in a meadow. He was buried in the Old Willow Creek Cemetery. His tombstone reads: “Killed by Sioux Indians”. Buried with him are Caroline who passed away on October 26, 1863 and Emma A. (Mack) Roberts who died on December 9, 1863.
Several days following Charles’ death, the St. Cloud Democrat reported an interesting development which included a terse editorial statement regarding the government’s handling of Indian affairs:
A part of the gun wadding used by the Indians when they shot Mr. Chas. Mack was afterwards picked up, and upon close examination it proved to be part of a religious newspaper. A piece of this wadding, picked up the day after the murder, is now in the possession of Mr. H.L. Young of this place. This fact, and the remembrances of the Indian hanging at Mankato . . . lead us to the belief that they were a portion of the 400 pets, “civilized and christianized” at this place during the winter of 1862, and whom Uncle Abraham in the kindness of his heart, pardoned and turned loose in Dakota, a few months ago.9
By 1866, historians later declared “the sound of the war whoop, of fife and drum, of the firing of guns, of mourning for the slain have ceased, the sight of mutilated corpses, fleeing families, of marching soldiers, and of building forts have disappeared.”10
Jesse remained in Blue Earth County following his father’s death for several years, but by the mid-1880’s had migrated to Brown County, Kansas. There Jesse immersed himself in community affairs, and at one time was a member of the Prohibitionist Party. He later served as city marshal of Willis and once had this to say about fulfilling one’s civic duty to vote:
Do not leave your religion at home under the bed or behind some big hay stack, but carry it with you to the ballot box with the Bible on each shoulder. Not a Bible on one shoulder and a saloon on the other, you never will enter heaven with that kind of a path. They have no use for saloons over there nor drunkards neither.11
Jesse Mack died on October 21, 1912 and is buried in the Horton Cemetery of Brown County, Kansas.
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Surname Saturday: Renfrew
I haven’t done a Surname Saturday in awhile and today seemed a good day to highlight this particular surname after stumbling across an interesting story this week – and possibly a link to my own family history. The name I actually ran across while working on an ancestry research project was Renfro (Renfrow or Rentfrow). As it turns out, these are all variations of Renfrew, and as I suspected the name has Scottish origins.
The name originates from a town of the same name in Renfrewshire. Perhaps the earliest instance of the name was seen in the late thirteenth century when the name Adam de Reynfru was recorded in Edeneburk County. Early in the following century a Scottish prisoner of war by the name of Robert Reynfreu was imprisoned at the Old Sarum Castle between 1304 and 1307.
This article was enhanced and published in the June 2018 issue of Digging History Magazine. Preview the issue here or purchase here. I invite you to check out Digging History Magazine. Since January 2018 new articles are published in a digital magazine (PDF) available by individual issue purchase or subscription (with three options). Most issues run between 70-85 pages, filled with articles of interest to history-lovers and genealogists — it’s all history, right? 🙂 No ads — just carefully-researched, well-written stories, complete with footnotes and sources.
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Tombstone Tuesday: Mary Susan Ann Rebecca Yankee Doodle Jay-Ho Bonaparte Dekelter Payne Spencer
I don’t recall exactly how I came across this most unusual name, but knew there must be a story (and I was right!). There may not be many records which document her life, but I located an article written by her great-granddaughter Dr. Theresa Greene Reed and included in a book about the heritage and history of Amherst County, Virginia.
Mary (called Lucy by her slave owners) was born to parents Nathan and Susan Emaline Payne, slaves of Colonel Philip W. Payne of Campbell County, Virginia, on July 12, 1848. After Colonel Payne died in 1840, she and her mother were sold to Dr. Robert Wingfield and his wife Elizabeth Sisson Wingfield, owners of a plantation in Amherst County.
The Wingfields were married on December 20, 1841 and Emaline (“Mammy”) helped raise the Wingfield children after developing a close friendship with Elizabeth. Dr. Reed doesn’t mention what happened to Nathan when his daughter and wife were sold to the Wingfield family, but they were later reunited following the Civil War.
Mary and Emaline lived in a slave cabin near the Samuel Spencer plantation. On June 25, 1863 Mary met one of his slaves, Warwick Spencer, as they hid in the bushes at Gallows Field. Five slaves of General Jerisha Washington Dillard were hung that day, accused of killing their master. Not exactly an ideal way to meet your future husband, but perhaps it was love at first sight.
Almost two years passed before Mary and Warwick would see each other again. They met again in the spring of 1865 at Appomattox Court House, site of General Robert E. Lee’s surrender to General Ulysses S. Grant. While horseback riding, Mary came upon the scene and found Warwick tending Traveler, General Lee’s horse.
Slaves were officially freed (although Lincoln had enacted the Emancipation Proclamation on January 1, 1863) on June 19, 1865. Warwick and Mary were married by year’s end on December 26 at her father’s home. Joining them for a double wedding were Mary’s brother John and his bride Catherine Mundy.
Following her marriage, Mary changed her slave name of Lucy to Mary Susan Ann Rebecca Yankee Doodle Jay-Ho Bonaparte Dekelter Payne Spencer. Census records, however, enumerate her simply as “Mary S. Spencer”. Although I didn’t locate the 1870 census record, the first time former slaves would be enumerated with their full names, Dr. Reed wrote that John and Catherine and Warwick and Mary moved to Appomattox County where they worked as tobacco farmers.
Warwick and Mary’s first three children were born in Appomattox County: Bettie Susan, Annie and Emaline. Mary was a midwife and said to have been “an astute businesswoman”. In 1873 the Spencers purchased a home in Lynchburg where Warwick worked for the Heald Bark Mill as an extract foreman.
Neither Warwick nor Mary ever learned to read or write, but regardless determined their children would be educated. Eight more children were born to their marriage, including: Charles, Edward, Warwick, Jr., Howard, Nelson, Marietta, John and Ophelia. Some became “school teachers, mail carriers, real estate dealers, a tailor and a saleswoman”, according to Dr. Reed. In 1909 the Spencer Shoe Company was incorporated in Lynchburg with Edward as president and Warwick, Jr. serving as secretary and treasurer.
The Virginia Seminary was founded in Lynchburg in 1886 as a school of higher learning for African Americans. In 1895 a plea for funds was raised, asking for one hundred and fifty persons to give ten dollars each. Donors included Warwick Spencer.
In 1880, Nelson and Emaline were living next to the Spencers. Nathan passed away in 1893 and Emaline lived with her daughter and son-in-law until her death in 1915. In 1905 Mary’s brother Nathan, Jr., head engineer at the Albermarle Soapstone Company, was tragically killed on the Alberene and Nelson Railroad when his head was crushed in a train accident.
In 1903 Warwick and Mary purchased property which had been part of Confederate Camp Davis. The property, split into lots for their children, later became known as Spencer Row as evidenced by census records. Son Edward’s home on Pierce Street was later registered in Virginia as a historic site.
Warwick passed away on June 9, 1927 at the age of eighty. In 1930 Mary was living with her daughter Marietta and son-in-law Nathaniel Edwards on Spencer Row. Mary, aka Mary Susan Ann Rebecca Yankee Doodle Jay-Ho Bonaparte Dekelter Payne Spencer, died on March 22, 1936 at the age of eighty-seven.
Whether she ever legally used her elongated and emancipatory name is unclear. It may have been in some way merely symbolic as she celebrated her freedom and shed her slave name. Perhaps she set it aside later, sincer according to Dr. Reed, “Mary and Warwick Spencer lived very significant lives in quiet dignity and as outstanding, leading members of the Lynchburg community.”12
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Ghost Town Wednesday: Running Water, Texas
Ranchers were first attracted to this area of Hale County, Texas because of an abundance of water. The J.N. Morrison ranch was established in 1881 and many settlers who came to the area worked there. Ranch operations continued to grow as other cattleman joined the partnership, including Christopher Columbus (C.C.) Slaughter.
Slaughter wore many hats during his lifetime — as a Texas Ranger, banker, cattleman and more. As a highly successful businessman, Slaughter made his four million dollar fortune in cattle ranching and land speculation. Born in 1837, Slaughter was a part of history as the Texas Republic took shape. Between 1877 and 1905 he managed to amass more than a million acres of land – from just north of Big Spring and stretching to the New Mexico border — and forty thousand head of cattle . A Dallas newspaper once called him “the Cattle King of Texas”, a title I might add was given to more than one Texas cattle rancher.
In 1884 Dennis and Martha Rice purchased several sections of land in the area, hoping to establish a town and convince a railroad to lay track.13 They built a dugout south of the community of Edmonson and their settlement was first named Wadsworth. In December of 1890 the first post office was established and on January 28, 1891 the settlement was renamed Running Water to highlight the presence of nearby flowing water.
Rice was appointed the community’s first postmaster and worked as a railroad land speculator. Later in 1891 a school was established and by the following summer, after establishing the Running Water Townsite and Investment Company with $25,000 of initial capital, Rice held a picnic on July 4, ostensibly to sell town lots. On August 26, 1892 the town of Running Water was officially open. The investment company’s directors included Rice, C.C. Slaughter, George C. Pendleton, George Slaughter (all Texans) and R.A. Knight of South Dakota.14
While the prospect of abundant sources of water may have drawn settlers to the area, in the mid-1890’s drought and grasshoppers slowed migration. Then, the Texas legislature passed the so-called Four-Section Act in April of 1895, allowing the sale or lease of up to “four sections of school, asylum or public lands in all Texas counties except El Paso, Pecos and Presidio.”15
With passage of the Four-Section Act settlers again made their way to the area, many of them farmers. The town continued to grow as general stores, a blacksmith shop, grist mill, and Presbyterian, Methodist and Baptist churches were established. The Running Water school continued to expand and by 1924 was an independent district with a PTA organized in 1925 and four teachers by 1937.
Dennis Rice’s original plan included a railroad in order to sell land and attract more settlers. However, when the Fort Worth and Denver Railway began laying track three miles away in 1928, Running Water, like many other prairie towns across the plains of America, hung on for a few years before beginning its decline. On February 1, 1937 the post office was closed and moved to Edmonson Switch and the townspeople began to leave. The nearby springs dried up in the mid-1940’s and all that remains of Running Water is the town’s cemetery, surrounded by a barbed wire fence, near Edmonson.
Other Sources:
Open Plaques, Plainview, Texas
Texas State Historical Association
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Tombstone Tuesday: Abigail Fritter Grigsby (and the case for proving her actual age)
According to her gravestone, Abigail Fritter Grigsby died on August 5, 1860 at the age of 102 years, 8 months and 11 days. The picture I found at Find-A-Grave appears to be of the original gravestone. That would mean she was born on November 25, 1757 if this calculation tool is correct. The Find-A-Grave entry lists her birth date as November 11, 1764 and the death date as August 5, 1860. Clearly, there is some sort of discrepancy, but this isn’t the only “twist” to Abigail’s story …. read on.
Under oath and by her mark (“X”), Abigail Grigsby swore to the following facts on August 10, 1840 before the Marion County (Indiana) Probate Court:
Abigail Grigsby a resident of the County of Marion State of Indiana aged seventy nine years on the twenty fourth day of November next, who first being duly sworn, according to law, doth on her oath, make the following declaration, in order to obtain the benefits of the provisions made by the act of Congress, passed July 7, 1838, entitled an act granting half pay and pensions to certain widows, that she is the widow of Moses Grigsby, who was a pensioner of the United States of the North Carolina agency, and probably may have been transfered [sic] to the Indiana agency before his death, and she refers to his papers on file for evidence of his services. She further declares that she was married to the said Moses Grigsby in the County of Stafford State of Virginia about two weeks before Christmas day in the year Seventeen hundred and Eighty four, being about the Eleventh day of December, and that she was then twenty three years of age that her husband the aforesaid Moses Grigsby died on the Sixteenth day of June Eighteen hundred and Thirty Eight in Gibson County Indiana; that she was not married to him prior to his leaving the Service but the marriage took place previous the first of January Seventeen hundred and ninety four [illegible] at the time above stated.
She has no family record nor does she believe that the ages of her children were recorded by her husband. She is old and infirm and does not now that she could get a record from Stafford County in Virginia should there be any, and prays that the best evidence she can produce may be received her oldest daughter who is now dead was born in September Seventeen hundred and Eighty five and she was married to the said Moses Grigsby prior to the birth of said child, Nancy Grigsby.
The presiding court officer, R.B. Duncan, was of the opinion: “Abigail Grigsby a resident of Marion County State of Indiana, an aged lady and is well known to the Court to be a lady of truth and made oath to the truth.” Nancy Bingman also swore under oath that Abigail was a “lady of truth”. Mrs. Bingman was aware that Moses had been a pensioner in North Carolina and that he had died on the date which Abigail stated in her declaration.
Her declaration tells me that under oath Abigail swore that she was not born on November 25, 1757 as her gravestone seems to indicate, but rather on November 11, 1761. Further proof can be obtained from her 1840 declaration when Abigail stated she was married in December of 1784 and was twenty-three years of age. The 1761 birth date fits perfectly because she would have just turned twenty-three one month prior to her marriage to Moses Grigsby.
However, the 1784 marriage date may have been incorrect because later in August of 1840 the County Clerk of Stafford County, Virginia certified that as best he could read (“in fair legible figures”) the original marriage record the marriage year was in fact 1785. In 1917 Mrs. C.H. Stewart of Delta, Colorado wrote to the Bureau of Pensions in Washington, D.C. requesting information regarding the marriage date and Abigail’s maiden name. In 1915 another woman (illegible) of Holden, Missouri also wrote to the bureau requesting the same information.
In response to one of these requests, the Bureau of Pensions forwarded the following information. Moses Grigsby had enlisted in Virginia and served from April of 1781 until May of 1783 under the command of Captain Abram Fitzpatrick and Colonel Samuel Hanes. Moses had first applied for his pension in October of 1820 in Stafford County, Virginia at the age of fifty-seven, implying that Moses was born ca. 1763.
The following remarks were added to the bureau’s response (as best I can translate them): “d. June 16, 1838 in Gibson County Ind. Soldier married December 1785 in Stafford Co., Va. Abigail or Abby, daughter of Moses Fritter. She was b. November 11, 1761 and was allowed pension on an app. of Aug. 10, 1840 while a res. of Marion Co. Ind.”
By an act of Congress passed on July 7, 1838 (5 Stat. 303), Abigail would have been entitled to a five-year widow’s pension since her marriage had clearly occurred before January 1, 1794. These pensions were subsequently extended by acts passed on March 3, 1843 (5 Stat. 647); June 17, 1844 (5 Stat. 680); and February 2, 1848 (9 Stat. 210). Thus, in 1840 Abigail’s widow’s pension application was well within the bounds of the law passed in 1838.
In July of 1848 Congress passed yet another act which provided not just an extension of benefits but life pensions for widows of soldiers who were married before January 2, 1800. It should be noted that Congress subsequently modified the lifetime widow’s pension requirement by lifting the marriage date restrictions. On March 9, 1878 widows of Revolutionary War soldiers who had served for less than a month or had participated in perhaps just one engagement were eligible for lifetime widow’s pensions.16
Moses’ original pension had been $96 per annum, according to the 1848 declaration of William Mendenhall, an acting Justice of the Peace in Marion County, Indiana. Abigail’s original pension was set at $56.66 per annum and in 1848 Abigail believed she was entitled to Moses’ original pension of $96 per annum. It appears she had been appealing to the courts to grant her Moses’ full pension for quite some time. In 1843 an Indianapolis attorney(?) believed she was entitled to “considerable arrears”. In October of 1850 William Mendenhall again appealed on her behalf for an increase and a settlement in regards to any pension pay which may have been in arrears as of that date.
Obviously, Abigail was in great need of income. In more than one declaration she was described as an “old indigent lady”. It appears that her tenacity paid off eventually since on June 4, 1855 her application for a land bounty (this was one determined woman!) indicates she had indeed been receiving Moses’ full pension of $96 per annum, although the date of the adjustment was not mentioned. By that time Abigail was well over ninety years old and obviously of feeble mind since all requested dates were filled in as “forgotten”, and as far as records “she has none in her possession.”
The land bounty application was filed in Dallas County, Iowa and included an affidavit from John Bingman and Elizabeth (illegible name) who had known Abigail for thirty years (remember, Nancy Bingman had made a similar declaration in 1840). Census records (United States 1850 and 1860 in Marion County, Indiana and the 1856 Iowa State) indicate that Abigail lived with John and his wife Nancy and it’s conceivable she had lived with them for several years. That she and the Bingman family were long-time acquaintances is evident by John and Nancy’s Stokes County, North Carolina marriage record.
In fact, Nancy may have been related to Abigail because her maiden name is listed as “Fletter” (Abigail’s maiden name was Fritter). Makes me wonder if Nancy was a Fritter instead of a Fletter (things that make me go “hmm”). I was wondering where in North Carolina Moses and Abigail had lived, so perhaps it was Stokes County.
There are still several questions about the life of Abigail Fritter Grigsby, yet quite a few historical facts emerged from the sixty-four pages of pension records I found at Fold3. I eventually located some census records which helped shed some light on her relationship with the Bingmans. In 1850 Abigail was enumerated at age 91 with a birth year of about 1759. On July 9, 1860 her age was listed as 102 and her personal estate was $15.
Less than a month later Abigail Fritter Grigsby died. Presumably, John and Nancy Bingman took it upon themselves to pay for her burial and gravestone. Abigail’s recently recorded age of 102 likely accounted for the inscription on her gravestone:
Wife of M Grigsby, aged 102 years 8 months 11 days
Under oath Abigail had repeatedly sworn her date of birth was November 11, 1761, which would mean she hadn’t yet reached the age of 99 at the time of her death, but rather was 98 years, 8 months and 25 days old.
Although I didn’t have enough time to thoroughly examine every pension record (64 pages), I’ve tried to summarize and hopefully present a credible case for Abigail Fritter Grigsby’s actual age at the time of her death in 1860. I often find that family researchers come across these Tombstone Tuesday articles and are thrilled to know more about their ancestor. My hope is that someday a Grigsby or Fritter family researcher may come across this article and find it helpful.
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Time-Capsule Thursday: Those Dang Saucers Appear Everywhere
This week in July 1952 was filled with headlines about the strange phenomenon of so-called “flying saucers” or UFOs (unusual or unidentified flying objects). The term had been around since the summer of 1947 when hundreds of incidences of unexplained objects in the sky were reported, many observed by commercial and Air Force pilots.
The Air Force began an investigation, but by late 1947 had found nothing that could have caused these sightings. However, sightings continued despite government reports. Some of these sightings occurred around nuclear power or atomic energy facilities. Sightings continued and the Air Force re-opened the investigation in the fall of 1951. By March of 1952 the project was officially named “Blue Book”.
This article is no longer available for free at this site. It was re-written and enhanced, complete with footnotes and sources and has been published in the October 2018 issue of Digging History Magazine. Other articles in this issue include “American Poltergeist (and other strange goings on)”, “Sister Amy and Her Murder Factory”, Genealogically Speaking: It’s Time to Rake the Leaves”, and more. Should you prefer to purchase the article only, contact me for more information.
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Tombstone Tuesday: Preserved Fish
This name was so unusual I decided to research it a bit. As it turns out, there was more than one person with this name, apparently from the same family line. First of all, the name was most likely not pronounced as we commonly do today (prɘ ˈzɘrvd), but rather something like “pre-SER-ved” or “pres-ER-ved”. Here are a few short biographies of those bearing the name (pay attention — it’s a bit of a tongue-twister at times!).
Preserved Fish (1679-1745)
According to the Fish genealogical record, the first known person with the name “Preserved” was born on August 12, 1679 in Portsmouth, Rhode Island, the son of Thomas and Grizzel (Shaw) Fish. He married Ruth Cook on May 30, 1699 and to their marriage were born these children: Grizzel, Ruth, Thomas, Amy, Sarah, John, Preserved and Benjamin.
His namesake born on May 19, 1713 lived to be ninety-nine years old, dying in February of 1813 as the result of falling on a hatchet. While many of the Fish family were thought to have been of the Baptist faith (Rhode Island was essentially a Baptist colony found by Roger Williams), it appears that Preserved may have been a Quaker since his death on July 15, 1745 was recorded by the Society of Friends.
Preserved Fish (1766-1846)
According to Rhode Island records, this Preserved Fish was born on July 14, 1766 to parents Isaac and Ruth Fish. The Fish genealogical record states, however, that Preserved was born in Freetown, Massachusetts (Isaac was born in Portsmouth, Rhode Island in 1744).
Some sources indicate that his father’s name was also Preserved, while the Fish family genealogical record indicates Isaac was his name. Nevertheless, it appears the name was an old Quaker name that meant “preserved in a state of grace” or “preserved from sin”, according to Jay William Frost, a Quaker historian at Swarthmore College. The Fish family was quite prominent in seventeenth and eighteenth century New England.17
While the name may have been a distinct family name, some had through the years believed it may have been attributed to the story about how he was “picked up from a floating wreck by a New Bedford fisherman, and therefore named Preserved Fish.18 That, of course, is preposterous owing to the fact there was already at least one ancestor pre-dating him who bore the same name.
Isaac was a blacksmith and his son worked in the shop, perhaps hoping that Preserved would follow in his footsteps. That seems not to have been Preserved’s calling, however. He worked for a time as a farmer, but finally the sea called him. He boarded a whaling ship headed for the Pacific and became a captain at the age of twenty-one. The sea may have been in his blood, but Preserved realized that the life of a sea captain wasn’t likely to make him wealthy.
Rather, he realized that his fortune would be made in selling whale oil, not in hunting for it on dangerous sea missions. In 1810 Preserved went into the whale oil business with his cousin Cornelius Grinnell and later with another cousin, Joseph Grinnell. Joseph and Preserved founded the shipping firm of Fish and Grinnell in 1815. Within a few years, owing to Preserved’s keen business acumen, the company became one of New York’s most influential firms.
In 1826 Preserved joined the New York Stock Exchange Board as one of the founders and later became president of the Tradesman’s Bank of New York, a position he held until his death in 1846. Although he was married three times, Preserved never had any biological children, but adopted a son, William Middleton.
Preserved was a Quaker until late in his life when he joined the Episcopal Church. He was a Jacksonian Democrat until joining the Whigs in 1837 in opposition to Martin Van Buren.19 New York newspapers made mockery of the switch – a Whig in New York, home of the infamous Democrat political machine known as Tammany Hall, was openly disdained.
Just as the Mexican-American War was beginning, Preserved Fish died in Portsmouth, Rhode Island on July 22, 1846. His body was returned to New York where he was buried in Vault No. 75 of the New York City Mausoleum, joining the likes of other prominent New York families (many of them bankers).
Preserved Fish (1770-1849)
He was the son of Robert and Abigail (Hathaway) Fish, born on November 5, 1770 at the estate of his grandfather Daniel Fish. Abigail died in 1775 and his early years were spent at the home of his older brother Matthew in New Ashford, Massachusetts. He served as Matthew’s apprentice, learning the stone mason trade. At the age of nineteen he purchased his time from Matthew for the sum of sixty dollars, but being poor he found himself indebted for that amount.20
When the New Hampshire Grants were made available (later becoming the state of Vermont) Preserved joined other settlers heading north. His training as a stone mason served him well and he was able to pay the debt owed to Matthew. After clearing his debts, Preserved saved his money and later invested in farm land and property.
In August of 1791 Preserved married Abigail Carpenter and to their union were born ten sons and one daughter. On December 11, 1808 they joined the Ira (Vermont) Baptist Church and later transferred membership to the Middletown Baptist Church in 1819. Preserved was also a Mason and a Knight Templar and family historians note that despite the affiliation he wasn’t precluded from membership at Middletown despite the Anti-Masonic movement (1820-1840).
Preserved became one of the wealthiest members of his community and through the years served in various civic offices. He was a “very large man, tall and powerful” and his ten sons all averaged at least six feet in height. Like Preserved Fish the New York banker, he was also a banker and a successful businessman.
Preserved died on October 10, 1849 of septicemia following an infection of his thumb. His total estate, minus large sums of money loaned to over forty individuals, included railroad and banking investments and totaled just over $45,000. A faithful servant of the people known as Esq. (“Square”) Fish, his tombstone read:
Raised from the dust on that eternal plan
That fashioned dust into the shape of man
Behold a world of sin, vanity, and pain,
Then close my eyes and turn to dust again.21
Preserved Offensend Fish (1882-1935)
This particular Preserved Fish was descended from the son of Vermont Preserved Fish’s son who went by the “abbreviated” name of “Served” and was born on August 14, 1882 in Washington County, New York. The middle name of Offensend came from the second wife of Served, Sally Ann Offensend. Preserved Offensend Fish is the grandson of Served Fish and Sally Ann Offensend Fish and the son of Preserved Offensend Fish (Sr.) who was born in 1851.
Preserved Offensend Fish, Sr. died in 1904 and following his death, Preserved Offensend, Jr. headed west to seek his fortune. In Wyoming he had a profitable cattle business, but lost quite a bit of his fortune following World War I. He married Jennie A. Robinson on September 26, 1911 in Thermopolis. To their marriage were born four children: Sadie, Albert Edward (died at 16 days old), George and Robert.
Preserved roamed Wyoming it seems, living at various times in Thermopolis, Worland, Casper, Buffalo and Ten Sleep. He also lived for a time in Bridger and Belfrey, Montana. He died on October 5, 1935 and is buried in Ten Sleep.
Whether Preserved Offensend Fish was the last to bear the unique family name is unclear to me, although it seems to have been the last one referenced in the family genealogical record – he came from a long line of not just Fishes but “Preserved Fishes”.
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Tombstone Tuesday: Nephi United States Centennial Jensen
A couple of weeks ago my Tombstone Tuesday article asked the question “What’s In a Name?”. I highlighted a few and have since discovered more for future articles. One of the most unique names I came across was a man by the name of Nephi United States Centennial Jensen. Here is his story.
Nephi United States Centennial Jensen was born on February 16, 1876 to parents Soren and Kjerstine (or Christina) (Rasmussen) Jensen. His Danish heritage is interesting. Soren was born on June 14, 1838 in the town of Hvirring, Denmark. His parents, Jens Peter Sorensen and Anna Kuerstine Jensen were wealthy farmers.
Soren prepared to become a Lutheran minister but in 1859 was introduced to the Mormon faith. After his conversion, Soren worked as a missionary before immigrating to America in 1860. Whether or not his parents approved, family historians22 write that Soren signed away all inheritance rights to his family’s estate and borrowed $173 to pay for passage to New York. Smallpox had broken out on board the ship and for two weeks following arrival no one was allowed to leave the ship.
Once the quarantine was lifted, Soren joined his fellow Scandinavians and boarded a train to Omaha. At that time, the railroad terminated in Omaha. In order to reach Utah Territory, he joined a caravan of other LDS members who would use wagons and handcarts to cross the vast plains. Before departing, Soren married Elna Peterson, a Swedish convert on July 5, 1860.
That same day the caravan departed with six wagons and twenty-two handcarts. Seventy of the one hundred and twenty-six persons departing that day were Scandinavian who spoke no English. Their journey was full of challenges and dangers, but all arrived safely at the Eighth Ward Square in Salt Lake City on September 24, 1860. Soren and Elna settled in the First Ward and together had four children. He was ordained a Seventy on February 7, 1861.
During the journey across the plains, Soren had proven himself a skillful buffalo hunter. After arriving in Salt Lake City, he became a skillful carpenter and worked on the Mormon Tabernacle for three years. He practiced polygamy – marrying Kjerstine Rasmussen on March 9, 1867 (seven children), Karen Juliusen on April 18, 1868 (six children), Ann Johanna Jensen on September 12, 1878 (three children) and Petrea Cathrina Hansen on February 21, 1884 (five children).
America was celebrating its centennial in 1876 and apparently his parents decided to name their son in its honor. Sometimes he is referred to as Nephi U.S.C. Jensen (for short, I suppose). There were actually several other people named Nephi Jensen, however, and at least one of them appeared several times as a troublemaker of sorts throughout the years in the Salt Lake Tribune.
According to family historians, Soren went on a mission in Denmark from 1876 to 1878 before returning to work as a carpenter in Salt Lake City. In 1885 he was called to St. John, Arizona and the following year to Mancos, Colorado. Presumably, at least some of the family traveled with him, since Nephi attended Union High School in Montezuma County, Colorado from 1892-1893.23
One of the children (Katherine) related years later that she and her half-brothers Joseph and Nephi had departed Salt Lake City for Mancos in 1887. Petrea and her children were already residing in Colorado while Soren had traveled back and forth from Arizona to Utah. Katherine and Nephi walked most of the way.
Soren and his family were grain farmers and Joseph and Nephi hauled manure all winter long to fertilize the land. It paid off after two or three years when the land began producing sixty-five bushels per acre. According to Katherine, Nephi was the only child allowed to attend school because her father thought the cowboys made too much trouble and ran teachers out of town. Soren had been a teacher in Denmark and taught his children to read and write.24
However, Nephi was allowed to attend high school and “outstripped all the students in school.”25 The teacher told Soren he couldn’t teach Nephi anymore. Nephi later attended the Latter Day Saints University (1895-6) and the University of Utah, aspiring to become a railroad engineer26. Instead, he received a call to missionary service in the South. The day following his twenty-second birthday Nephi departed Utah.
After arriving in Chattanooga, Tennessee he was assigned to the Florida Conference where he worked until July of 1900. He later traveled back to Arizona to work as a school teacher. There he met Margaret Fife Smith and married her on April 9, 1902.
LDS history doesn’t appear to record that he practiced polygamy, but in 1940 the census records that twenty-six year old Lila L. Jensen was the head of household’s wife. I didn’t find a marriage record, however, and I wonder if perhaps she was their daughter since she was only two years younger than Paul. Margaret is also enumerated as was twenty-eight year old Paul, presumably Nephi and Margaret’s son.
On February 12, 1906, Nephi was admitted to the Utah State Bar and for a few years was engaged in the practice of general law. From January 1, 1911 until August 1, 1913 he served as Salt Lake County’s Assistant County Attorney. He also made a name for himself by serving as a member of Utah’s state legislature during its seventh session (1907-1909).
As a member of the House of Representatives, he and Brigham Clegg were scheduled to give a talk, “by orders of the Federal bunch”. The Salt Lake Tribune referred to him as “the member with the long name”. The newspaper noted that both men were regrettably members from Salt Lake County whose mission was “to work their jaw continuously.”27
Clegg and Jensen were known for their habit of speaking about both sides of an issue and then voting the exact opposite of the way they talked. Clegg was the worst, and although Nephi Jensen was not as talkative as his colleague, he nevertheless was “badly afflicted with mouth disease, and loses no opportunity to get before the House.” Both appeared to be “nit-pickers”, as noted by the Tribune:
Nine-tenths of the motions made to correct the typographical and grammatical errors in the journal are made by these two persons and both labor under the delusion that they are legislating for the State. Several members said to The Tribune Saturday evening that if these two men from Salt Lake county could have their mouths laced as tight as their shoes that some real legislation, some needed legislation, might be enacted.28
Apparently, the actions of Nephi U.S.C. Jensen, who had “received the highest vote of any candidate on the ticket” rankled the Tribune’s editors. After his stint as the assistant county attorney, Nephi formed a law partnership with C.E. Marks (Marks & Jensen). For six years, he and Marks were regarded as one of the most prominent Salt Lake City law firms.
On April 22, 1919 Nephi was called to serve as president of the Canadian Mission with headquarters in Toronto. After his missionary service he returned to Utah and in 1928 was appointed as a Salt Lake County judge. Nephi retired in 1933 and devoted the rest of his life to writing tracts, pamphlets and books, including LDS study manuals.
On September 2, 1955 Nephi United States Centennial Jensen died at the age of seventy-nine in Salt Lake City’s L.D.S. Hospital after experiencing a ruptured appendix. Margaret lived several more years and died in 1969. Both are buried in the Wasatch Lawn Memorial Park cemetery in Salt Lake City.
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Far-Out Friday: Robert Wadlow, Gentle Giant
On February 22, 1918, with war raging across the seas in Europe, Harold and Addie Wadlow of Alton, Illinois welcomed their firstborn child into the world – Robert Pershing Wadlow. He was a little over eighteen inches long and weighed eight pounds and six ounces – a perfectly normal size and weight for a baby. Little did his parents know, however, what the future held for their firstborn child as six months later his height had almost doubled, his weight nearly quadrupled.
His height and weight steadily increased – by the third grade Robert, towering over all his classmates, was taller than his teacher. Despite his size, however, he spent what would be considered a normal childhood – playing with friends, running a lemonade stand and joining the Boy Scouts. The Bloomer Shoe Factory made a special pair of size seventeen shoes for eight year-old Robert.
When exactly the rest of the world outside his family and friends in Alton began to learn about the boy who would later be called Alton’s “Gentle Giant” is unclear. One woman interviewed for a documentary about his life said she had never heard of him until one day she was outside and noticed a “man” riding along in a red wagon. Robert’s family had just moved across the street.
Around Alton and neighboring areas, attention was drawn to him perhaps as early as 1927 when one newspaper called him “A Man at Eight” – he was taller than his father by then:
At the age of ten he was wearing size fifteen shoes. Five square feet of leather – a lot of cow, as one newspaper reported – was required to make them.
By the age of twelve, Robert was about seven feet tall and weighed two hundred and forty pounds. Like other boys his age, he loved to play baseball, football and basketball and hoped to someday fly like his idol, Charles “Lindy” Lindbergh – if he could find a plane big enough – or maybe he would become a movie star.
Around that time, an Italian named Primo Canera was making headlines for his athletic prowess as a boxer. At six feet and five inches Canera towered over his opponents and much of the press surrounding him emphasized his “gigantic” frame. His promoters thought it would improve gate receipts when he fought in St. Louis if Robert met him for publicity photographs. Canera, assuming he was meeting with a small child, agreed – what would be the harm? Plenty, according to a documentary about Robert’s life. Canera was proud of his height and weight, but posing with a “mere child” who stood even taller, turned out to be somewhat of an embarrassment.
That same year Robert’s parents finally took him to Barnes Hospital in St. Louis to find out what was causing his unusual growth. There they were told their son’s condition was due to an overactive pituitary gland. Although surgical options were available, the risks were high, possibly resulting in death. Robert suffered no mental disabilities (his IQ was quite high), and although significantly larger than other children was still proportionately adjusted in weight and height. For his parents, surgery was out of the question.
Even so, it must have been difficult for a boy his age to blend in and not draw attention to himself. As one can imagine he was teased, yet according to one of his classmates he took it in stride. Although he would blush with embarrassment, he would never become angry. Robert continued on to high school and wanted to participate in basketball, although coaches were fearful he would hurt himself. By the time team officials were able to have a custom pair of shoes made for him the season was over.
Although he had to drop out of school for approximately six months due to a foot infection, Robert made up the required course work and graduated in January of 1936. His cap and gown required fourteen square yards of material. At eight feet, three and-a-half inches, he was the tallest high school graduate in history.
He enrolled at Shurtleff College with a goal of studying law but after only one semester decided to pursue a career in business. The International Shoe Company, as the makers of his specially-sized shoes, had known about Robert for some time. He worked for them as a field representative and the company displayed a copy of Robert’s gigantic shoes in their stores.
Robert traveled with his father to these stores where Harold would give a short talk about his son, and then they would depart so that the store could make their sales pitch to those who had gathered to see Robert up close and personal. Although a fairly well adjusted and mild-mannered person, Robert would get angry when people came up and asked him what he ate.
One sales representative who traveled with the Wadlows related how Robert would also become angry when someone came behind him and pinched the back of his legs to see if he was walking on stilts. The sales rep also related how he and Harold had to “nudge” Robert along as they were walking down the hallway on the way to their hotel room. With his extreme height, Robert was able to look through the door transoms as they walked by. They had to make sure Robert didn’t linger too long or disturb other hotel guests.
Robert’s clothing and shoes, of course, had to be custom-made. In 1936 a pair of size 39 shoes costing $88 to make was returned to the shoe company – they pinched his feet. Harold and Addie made plans to build a special house for their oversize son in 1937, but to their dismay discovered that such things as a ten-foot long bathtub didn’t exist, unless one was specially cast for him at a cost of $500 to $1,000.
A stint with the Ringling Brothers Circus and other promotional tours brought him increasing notoriety throughout the country. Still, his family always wanted to ensure he lived a normal life. When Robert traveled he was always anxious to return home to be with his family. In 1939 he petitioned the Franklin Masonic Temple of Alton for membership as a Freemason. By year’s end he had been elevated to the degree of Master Mason. At a gargantuan size 25, his ring was the largest one ever created for a member of that lodge. The lodge also built a special chair where he could sit comfortably and participate in regular meetings and activities.
Eventually, walking would become a laborious task, difficult enough to require braces. Yet, he remained an affable and well-adjusted person who loved meeting people, especially children. He continued to grow and on June 27, 1940 he once again visited Barnes Hospital for a checkup. That day his recorded height was an astounding 8 feet, 11.1 inches with a weight of 439 pounds. With that measurement, Robert Wadlow officially became the tallest person in history.
He was scheduled to begin another promotional tour two days later and on July 4 complained of a brace which was irritating his ankle. A blister had formed which resulted in an infection. Robert was taken to a hospital where emergency surgery and a blood transfusion were performed. His temperature continued to soar, and ten days later on July 15, 1940 Robert Wadlow passed away at the age of twenty-two.
His body was returned to Alton where he lay in state in a specially-designed ten foot long casket as thousands of people came for the viewing. Eighteen men, including twelve of his fellow Masons, were required to carry his 855-pound casket. One thousand people congregated near the funeral home and thousands more heard the services through loud speakers. Flags were flown at half-mast on public buildings as Alton mourned its most famous resident.
Robert was buried in a double-sized, twelve-foot, cemetery plot in Oakwood Cemetery. To the world he may have been a curiosity, but to the residents of Alton he was remembered as a friend to many, a kind and gracious person throughout his life. His parents could have chosen surgery to “fix” Robert, but had instead decided to let time and nature take its course and let Robert be Robert, the “Gentle Giant”.
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