Tombstone Tuesday: Carbon Petroleum Dubbs (a “for-real” name with a rags-to-riches story)
Carbon Petroleum Dubbs was born in Franklin, Pennsylvania to parents Jesse and Jennie (Chapin) Dubbs on June 24, 1881. Jesse was born in the same county (Venango) in 1856, around the time the country’s first oil was discovered, and grew up during the early boom years. It wasn’t surprising that Jesse, son of druggist Henry Dubbs, developed a fascination with the oil industry, nor that he named his son after one of oil’s elemental components. Carbon later added a “P.” to his name to make it more “euphonious”. When people began calling him “Petroleum” (perhaps people assumed that’s what the “P” stood for) the name stuck, thus he became known as “Carbon Petroleum Dubbs” (“C.P.”).
Jesse set up a “dinky” chemistry lab in a small oil field and began experimenting in an attempt to discover a way to produce gasoline from crude oil. In 1890 his neighbor, Senator Richard Quay, had him arrested for “maintaining a common nuisance” – the stench was more than the senator could bear. A trial was held a few months later and a split decision resulted – yes, he was guilty of creating a nuisance but on the second charge of continuing a nuisance he was exonerated. However, as the newspaper headline asked – “Will This Stop the Bad Odor?”1
As an “inveterate tinkerer”2 Jesse was constantly discovering new ways to use petroleum. Like his father Henry he was a druggist by trade, inventing a protective jelly for miners, as well as inventing a process to extract sulfur from crude oil. His experiments took him far and wide around the world, despite once being kidnaped by Mexican bandits and held for a $10,000 ransom. After C.P. married Bertha Chatley in 1901 the father and son team began working on a high temperature cracking process, later to be known as the “Dubbs Process”.
Jesse tried for years to convince investors his invention would revolutionize the oil industry. In 1909 he traveled to California “flat broke”, only to be ignored by oil company executives. One went so far as to say Jesse himself was a bit “cracked”. Yet, he continued to explore and invent – in 1909 he discovered a way to produce asphalt.
J. Ogden Armour, a hugely successful businessman at the time, invested in several companies besides his own meat packing enterprise, like the Standard Asphalt & Rubber Company. Jesse’s idea for producing asphalt would be valuable enough for his business, yet Armour also believed the oil cracking process could benefit the oil industry. Unfortunately, Jesse died in California in 1918 and C.P., a chemical engineer who graduated from the University of Western Pennsylvania and the Philadelphia College of Pharmacy and Science, took over where his father left off.
Armour purchased Jesse’s patents and made certain the process did indeed work by hiring C.P. to prove it. Armour had founded National Hydrocarbon Company, later known as Universal Oil Products, LLC (UOP), and appointed Hiram Halle to run it. One of Halle’s assignments was to keep C.P. focused on the task at hand – but, like his father, C.P. was a tinkerer. Rather than concentrate on proving his father’s patents, C.P. began experimenting with new processes. He eventually came up with a new process called clean circulation, which would prove to be even more revolutionary than the original Dubbs Process.
World War I brought huge contracts to the Armour company for its canned meats. However, when the war ended the company was left “holding the bag” with a tremendous amount of meat when wartime contracts were abruptly cancelled. For one hundred days, the company bled one million dollars a day.
Armour died broke in London in 1927 after his fortune crumbled. His creditors refused to consider the oil-cracking process stock as payments of his debts, ignoring UOP altogether – considering a handful of patents the company held of little worth, creditors took a pass. Instead, the stock passed to Mrs. Armour.
Meanwhile, C.P. continued to tinker and file patents. In 1929 he was awarded the John Scott medal for “the discovery and development of a process for producing gasoline on a large scale.”3 His (and his father’s) diligence and ingenuity, however, was set to be handsomely rewarded in 1931.
In 1930 the Armour estate closed in probate court, showing insolvency of over 1.8 million dollars – quite a plummet from a record $150,000,000 years before. Early in January 1931 Shell Union and Standard Oil of California purchased UOP and its stock for $22,249,999, making Lolita Sheldon Armour once again wealthy. Since her husband’s death, Mrs. Armour remained convinced the company her husband had originally invested over three million dollars in would somehow redeem itself.
With the sale it appeared that J. Ogden Armour’s faith and confidence in the revolutionary processes invented by the father and son Dubbs team paid off considerably. Bankers had scoffed at her for hanging on to the stock. With eight million dollars in hand she laughed right back at them.
Mrs. Armour wasn’t the only beneficiary. Carbon Petroleum Dubbs, having sold his stock in Jesse’s invention (along with the company’s sale), found himself $3,582,045 richer. Relieved that legalities were finally settled, C.P. was ready to get back to work – meaning “research and more research, perfecting the process of cracking oil.”4
The process had always been a family affair with Jesse and C.P. working side-by-side, stopping only when they were flat broke and forced to seek investors. In 1910 he had been a “wage earner” employed at an asphalt refinery. Now he was fabulously wealthy. C.P. was happy the company and its patents had been purchased by two large oil companies, saying “it is a wonderful thing for everyone involved and will be of immeasurable benefit to the oil industry as a whole.”5
He left Pittsburgh and moved to Wilmette, Illinois where he served as village president in 1933. In 1939 C.P. moved to Bermuda and built a home, although many winters were spent in Montecito, California. In 1959 he was named to the “Refining Hall of Fame”. C.P. and Bertha were the parents of three children: Jennie, Carbon Chatley and Bertha. Like his father and grandfather, Carbon Chatley Dubbs was an inventor, a chemical engineer by trade. One of his inventions was a concrete block made of pumice, later building his “dream home” entirely of concrete (including the roof).
Did you enjoy this article? Yes? 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.
Want to know more or try out a free issue? You can download either (or both) of the January-February 2019 and March-April 2019 issues here: https://digging-history.com/free-samples/
Thanks for stopping by!
Ghost Town Wednesday: Cornucopia, Oregon
Gold was first discovered near the Idaho border in eastern Oregon in 1884 by Lon Simmons. The town of Cornucopia, which in Latin means “Horn of Plenty”, sprung up – said to have been named after the mining town of Cornucopia, Nevada. In July of 1885 five hundred men had already converged on Cornucopia, “quite a village”, reported the Morning Oregonian:
There is no doubt about the mines. They are very rich. Gold is being brought in every day and to see the rock is to be convinced that the mines are a big thing.6
Miners reported veins so rich that big nuggets would tumble right out of the rocks. Over the years sixteen mines produced 300,000 ounces of gold, although one source estimates that eighty percent of the gold ore body still remains.7
The early years from 1884 to 1886 produced the biggest gold booms, the town expanding with general stores, saloons, restaurants and hotels. However, unlike many other western mining towns, Cornucopia was a fairly tame place it seems with only a few killings (and suicides).
Cornucopia was situated in a mountain valley and known for its extremely harsh winters. During the winter of 1931-1932 one resident had kept meticulous records, indicating that by early March of 1932 over twenty-eight feet of snow had fallen. Massive slides were most common in the month of March as the snows began to melt.
In February of 1916 a snow slide buried a bunk house, but no injuries were reported after occupants were dug out. In January of 1923 a mother and her two children were killed when snow slide buried their home. The woman’s husband was thrown against a hot stove but survived.
The steep terrain required the use of aerial tramways and mining operations continued during the winter as weather permitted. You can find historic photos of the town and its epic snowstorms here.
Over the years fortunes of the mining operations rose and fell as the company went bankrupt, was sold, revived – and then repeated the cycle over again several times. In 1902, “the Cornucopia group of gold mines contains what is probably the largest ore body in the Pacific Northwest, if not in the United States”, according to the one newspaper.8
In the early 1900’s as many as seven hundred men were employed by the mining company. At its peak the mines were considered the sixth largest operation in the nation. Following yet another “fire sale” in early 1915, another gold strike was discovered in November. One newspaper made the following prediction:
The recent gold strikes in Cornucopia district, Baker county, have started a regular old fashioned rush to that old camp. The whole country is being staked out and some very rich ore is being uncovered. Some day a shaft or tunnel deep into old Greenhorn mountain on the line between Baker and Grant counties, is going to open up ore bodies that will make the old Comstock look to its laurels.9
In late 1921 a “lost vein” was discovered and the following year electricity was available and a twenty-stamp mill constructed, capable of producing up to sixty tons of ore per day.10 The mining company was again sold in early 1929, followed by rapid redevelopment. Then, of course, came the crash of 1929.
The 1930 census enumerated only ten people in Cornucopia, but by 1934 mining operations were starting up again after the decline. The following year mill tailings from cyanide-processed ore of years past was being converted into gold. In 1936 weekly wages for a workforce of between 100 and 125 miners totaled $15,000 with $8,000 per week expended for supplies.11
In July of 1936 all but fifteen of 175 miners struck for higher wages (one more dollar per day) and two paydays per month. By 1938 the company was touting its highest monthly profits ever – $100,000 in September of that year. 1939 was even more productive and Cornucopia mines were producing sixty-six percent of Oregon’s gold.
The 1940 census showed a significant increase in population from the last census: 10 in 1930 to 352 in 1940. Clearly, the mines were operating at peak capacity as the seventh largest operation in the United States. Despite this, operations were closed near the end of 1941. By early 1942 gold mining operations throughout the United States were ordered closed by President Roosevelt to concentrate the mining labor force on extracting war-related metals.
Following the war gold mining operations in some areas resumed, but Cornucopia was deemed a “war casualty”. The town had been largely abandoned. Today there are a few still-standing buildings and rusty machinery to see, but of course the best time to visit is during the summer.
Did you enjoy this article? Yes? 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.
Want to know more or try out a free issue? You can download either (or both) of the January-February 2019 and March-April 2019 issues here: https://digging-history.com/free-samples/
Thanks for stopping by!
Tombstone Tuesday: Thomas Jefferson Pilgrim
Thomas Jefferson Pilgrim was born on December 4, 1804 in East Haddam, Connecticut, the first child of eleven born to Thomas and Dorcas (Ransom) Pilgrim. His family were devout Baptists and T.J. Pilgrim would spend a lifetime devoted to religious education.
After receiving his license to preach Thomas entered Hamilton Literary and Theological Institute, part of Colgate University, at the age of eighteen. Even though his health was delicate he joined a group of sixty colonists and migrated to Texas following the completion of his education.
The migrants traveled to Cincinnati by water, via a raft built in two pieces and led by Elias R. Wightman. The first day was trouble-free although by that night they were cold and wet. After seeking shelter in an Indian village along the north bank, an old chief had pity and escorted them to a small cabin.
Although small (about twenty square feet), the cabin had a good floor and fireplace and the colonists had a warm place to sleep that night and food to eat. The raft trip continued past Pittsburgh and upon arrival in Cincinnati the migrants purchased provisions. Planning ahead in preparation for residing in Texas, Thomas bought a set of Spanish books so he could learn the language prior to arrival.
After waiting two weeks for a ship, a vessel from Maine run by three men became available for rental for a sum of five hundred dollars. However, it was determined only one of the crewmen proved capable of delivering the passengers to their destination. The captain instead offered to sell the vessel to the migrants for the same amount. The migrants agreed and set sail down the Mississippi River.
After reaching the open waters of the Gulf of Mexico, the boat began to drift due to a lack of breezes to move it along. Then a sudden gale arose and seasickness struck both passengers and crew. After two days of gale-force winds the waters calmed, only to see the storm-to-calm pattern repeat itself. Eventually they found their position to be near the entrance of Matagorda Bay, but with the wind blowing directly out of the pass there was little chance to enter safely. Still, they were determined to try and reach dry ground.
Thomas was the only person other than the boat’s crew who knew how to sail a vessel – it would be necessary later for Thomas to commandeer the vessel and later steer it into Matagorda Bay after the captain fell drunk. Provisions were also depleted and water was severely rationed – only one-half pint per person per day. At times Thomas declined his portion and instead offered it to the children.
Attempts to enter the bay were rebuffed by the winds for twenty-four hours before the vessel was steered toward Aransas. Upon landing, fires were started, water secured and an expedition sent out to find food. About an hour after reaching the shore (the boat was anchored about two hundred yards away) several canoes with Indians were seen.
The Karankawas were known to be cannibals and with only one musket at their disposal the women and children were especially vulnerable. As Thomas approached the Indians with the musket pointed toward the Indian leader, the chief motioned and made signs of friendship. The hunters arrived back making them feel safer still, although the Karankawas never showed any signs of unfriendliness. Instead, they traded the fish stored in their canoes to the weary and hungry migrants. After returning everyone to the boat the group remained anchored for several days while re-supplying food and water before setting sail once again.
With fair winds they again set sail with the intention to land at Matagorda. The captain handed the helm over to Thomas and went to his quarters to sleep. The wind was calm, however, and Thomas thought there was only a slight chance of landing. Since he had command of the vessel he informed Elias Wightman he could beach the boat, but the leader disagreed since it would require an expedition through Indian country before reaching a white settlement more than a hundred miles distant. Thus, it would be best to remain on the vessel.
Thomas awoke the captain who decided to again attempt to make it up the pass. Thomas and one of the crew members went ahead in a smaller boat and guided the larger vessel into the bay. Following a brief Christmas dinner Thomas set out for San Felipe de Austin in early 1829. Upon arrival he met Stephen F. Austin and the two established a friendship which lasted until Austin’s death in 1836. As a Latin scholar Thomas quickly learned Spanish and served as an interpreter and translator of Spanish documents for Austin.
In 1829 Thomas founded Austin Academy, a school for boys. That same year he also founded the first Sunday School in Texas. However, since Mexican government frowned on Protestant worship the Sunday School was soon closed. The migration from New York to Texas must have proven beneficial, at least according to an extracted letter published in a Hartford, Connecticut newspaper. In support of Dr. Phelps’ Compound Tomato Pills, T.J. Pilgrim of Columbia, Texas (of declining health for some time) wrote the following on December 31, 1838:
Having been here a sufficient length of time to test the merits of Dr. Phelps’ Tomato Pills, and the reception they are likely to meet – I feel it incumbent on me to send you the following: With regard to my own case, they have restored me to perfect health, after I thought health had forever fled; and from my experience, I am confident they are the best medicine yet discovered, for those diseases, to which in warm climates, we are more or less liable. They have been used also, by many others, in obstinate case of chill and fever, and have in every instance effected a radical cure.10
During the war with Mexico Thomas helped capture a Mexican boat in Matagorda Bay. For his service he received a Republic of Texas land grant in Gonzales County. In 1838 he married Lucy M. Ives and they moved to Gonzales where he began to organize a permanent school. Lucy died soon after their arrival, and following a Comanche raid plans for the school’s expansion were cancelled.
Thomas married Sarah Jane Bennett, daughter of Major Valentine Bennett, on April 13, 1841. After moving to Houston the couple later returned to Gonzales where they raised their family. Of their eleven children only five grew to maturity. Thomas and Sarah were charter members of the First Baptist Church of Gonzales.
From 1852 until 1853 he served on the board of visitors at Baylor University and also helped found Gonzales College, chartered on February 16, 1852. He served as president of the board of trustees of the college, in addition to civically serving his community as county treasurer and three terms as justice of the peace. He would also serve in the Confederate army.
T.J. Pilgrim is most remembered for his efforts to establish Sunday Schools in South Texas – “the cradle of Texas Baptist activity.”12 He is still celebrated as the “father of Sunday Schools in Texas”.
Thomas fell seriously ill in 1877, recovered enough to leave his bed in September, but passed away a few weeks later on October 29. He is buried in the Gonzales City Cemetery with Sarah who died on February 1, 1883. Their Greek Revival style home built in early 1877 still stands, located at 223 St. James Street in Gonzales.
Did you enjoy this article? Yes? 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.
Want to know more or try out a free issue? You can download either (or both) of the January-February 2019 and March-April 2019 issues here: https://digging-history.com/free-samples/
Thanks for stopping by!
Tombstone Tuesday: William Cobbledick
William D. Cobbledick was born in Whitley, Canada in 1849 and moved to Marshall, Michigan with his parents at the age of six months. While early records for William and his family are scarce, I believe his parents were John and Mary (Derbuiny?) Cobbledick. Other than the 1870 census the only other family record might have been one for Mary Cobbledick of St. Clair County whose name appears in an 1860 Federal Population Schedule index. There were other Canadian-born members of the Cobbledick family enumerated in St. Clair County, Michigan that year as well, but no John or William.
In fact, there seems to have been a large contingent of the Cobbledick family members who had migrated to America as evidenced by compiled census records at Ancestry.com. The surname originated in England, but as of 2014 only 737 people in the entire world bore the name (South Africa – 274; Australia – 156; England – 151; Canada – 83; United States – 72; Latvia – 1).13
The Internet Surname Database notes the surname and its various spellings include: Cobbledick, Cobledike, Cobbleditch, Copleditch, Copeldick, Cuppleditch (perhaps) and Cobberduke (now extinct). The name may have been locational, perhaps derived from a region of East Anglia and referring to ditch or dike/dyke built of cobble. Cobble was an early form of construction used in Norfolk and Suffolk.
Charles Bardsley, a leading Manchester minister, published Our English Surnames in 1873 and later claimed the name meant “Cobbalds dyke” – Cobbald was an early first name.14 The Dictionary of English and Welsh Surnames, also by Bardsley and published in 1901 by his widow, emphatically stated, however, the name had no connection to a dike made of cobble-stones, but rather to a proprietor named Cobbold. One newspaper article, musing about a litany of unusual surnames, noted: “Cobbledick, who should be a shoemaker”.15
It’s possible William’s parents had already passed away by the 1870 census when he was enumerated as a farm laborer with a Calhoun County family. At the age of nineteen William had his first taste of the “big village” when he traveled to Kalamazoo to attend a fair. While there he purchased a pair of rather uncomfortable custom-made boots. On his way home William removed the boots and continued walking barefoot. In later years William, or “Uncle Bill” as he was called, still preferred walking to riding – and he still had the boots.
He loved the outdoors and spent most his life there hunting, fishing and learning to swim in the Kalamazoo River. On January 1,1872 William married Ida Marie Knickerbocker – Ida Marie Knickerbocker Cobbledick (I had to giggle a little when I saw that name at Find-A-Grave – what a name!). I giggled again when I saw their marriage record where Ida’s name is written as “Ida Maria Roderdicker”.
Their first child, a son named Charles, was born in 1873. Other children mentioned in later newspaper articles were Marietta (1878) and Ada May (1887). William and Ida remained in Marshall until about 1879 and then spent several years living in Allegan and Van Buren counties before moving back to Kalamazoo County. Ida passed away on December 23, 1917 and Charles died in Lubbock, Texas in May of 1922.
William remained vigorously active following Ida’s death. In April of 1922 it was noted the “widely known resident of Kalamazoo county fell[ed] and split sixty cords of wood during [the] past winter.”16 The article headline read:
Uncle Bill Cobbledick is Champion Woodsman at 74
He was seventy-four “years young” and continued to tramp off to the north woods every fall to hunt deer, “seldom returning without his limit of game.” William loved to hunt and fish more than eat when he was hungry, he declared. He was still a great walker and often walked three-and-a-half miles to Alamo Center.
According to a Michigan death record William D. Cobbledick died on July 2, 1926 at the age of seventy-seven in Kalamazoo, although his tombstone has “1927″ as his year of death. He is buried with Ida and two of his children (Charles and Marietta) in Oakwood Cemetery in what appears to be a family plot.
Did you enjoy this article? Yes? 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.
Want to know more or try out a free issue? You can download either (or both) of the January-February 2019 and March-April 2019 issues here: https://digging-history.com/free-samples/
Thanks for stopping by!
Far-Out Friday: Gravesite Dowsing: Science, Wizardry, Witchcraft or Just Plain Hooey?
October is the spookiest month of the year, so a story about gravesite dowsing seemed in order for Halloween Eve-Eve, I guess you could call it. The article title pretty much encompasses the range of opinion regarding the subject, although I have to say a brief survey I conducted most decidedly leaned toward the “just plain hooey” side.
Since, personally, I don’t really have an opinion (yet) one way or the other, I hope nonetheless you’ll find the article objective, informative, balanced — and hopefully interesting! And oh, please do tell me what you think — science, wizardry, witchcraft or just plain hooey?
This article has been removed from the blog, but will be included in the September-October 2019 issue of our digital publication — Digging History Magazine. Speaking of spooky, the October 2018 issue of the magazine was especially so — murder, strange lights, UFOs, American poltergeist and more! Video preview here.
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 stories, complete with footnotes and sources.
Want to know more or try out a free issue? That’s easy if you have a minute or two. Here are the options (choose one):
- Scroll up to the upper right-hand corner of this page, provide your email to subscribe to the blog and a free issue will soon be on its way to your inbox.
- A free article index of issues is available in the magazine store, providing a brief synopsis of every article published in 2018. Note: You will have to create an account to obtain the free index (don’t worry — it’s easy!).
- Contact me directly and request either a free issue and/or the free article index. Happy to provide!
Thanks for stopping by!
Feisty Female Sheriffs: Claire Helena Ferguson, in her own words
This headline introduced some fearless and celebrated women to the readers of the Milwaukee Journal in 1899: “What Man Has Done Women Can Do”. The author had written a recent article “about dependence being an old fashioned virtue and that the clinging ivy type of women were no longer considered the highest ideal.”17. Exhibit number one for the premise of her article was one of the most celebrated women of that time, Miss Claire Helena Ferguson.
Did you enjoy this article snippet? Want to know more? This article has been updated with new research and published in the November-December 2019 issue of Digging History Magazine. The magazine is on sale in the Digging History Magazine store and features these stories:
- The Burr Conspiracy: Treason or Prologue to War
- Finding War of 1812 Records (and the stories behind them)
- Sarah Connelly, I Feel Your Pain (Adventures in Research: 1812 Pension Records)
- Essential Skills for Genealogical Research: Noticing Notices
- Bullets, Battles and Bands: The Role of Music in War
- Feisty Female Sheriffs: Who Was First?
- The Dash: Bigger Family: (A Bigger and Better Story)
- Book reviews, research tips and more
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 85-100+ 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.
Want to know more or try out a free issue? You can download either (or both) of the January-February 2019 and March-April 2019 issues here: https://digging-history.com/free-samples/
Thanks for stopping by!
Tombstone Tuesday: Joseph Faubion, the man who “died twice”
Joseph Faubion was born in Clay County, Missouri on September 7, 1842 to parents Moses and Nancy (Hightower) Faubion. Moses was first married to Patsy Holcomb, and after she died he married Nancy Hightower in 1841. According to the 1850 census Nancy was nineteen years younger than Moses and Joseph appears to have been their first child.
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. This was a “spooky” issue with articles including, “American Poltergeist (and other strange goings-on)”, “Sister Amy’s Murder Factory”, “Those Dang Saucers Appear Everywhere”, and more. Should you prefer to purchase the article only, contact me for more information.
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.
Want to know more or try out a free issue? You can download either (or both) of the January-February 2019 and March-April 2019 issues here: https://digging-history.com/free-samples/
Thanks for stopping by!
Time Capsule Thursday: October 8, 1926
Newspapers around the country were covering this riveting story on October 8, 1926. However, the original crime for which mob justice was rendered on that day hadn’t received much more than regional coverage the year before when three members of the Lowman family were accused of murder. On April 25, 1925 Sheriff Henry H. Howard of Aiken County, South Carolina had been shot and killed while he and his deputies were executing a liquor raid at the home of Sam and Annie Lowman. Although the following story is detailed and long, it’s important to give an adequate account of what happened that day in 1925 which led to the tragedy which occurred on October 8, 1926.
Accounts varied as to exactly what happened that day. Here is a sampling of reported details, beginning with the one told in Toward the Meeting of the Waters:
Sam Lowman had arisen early that Saturday morning in April 1925 and set off for nearby Monetta with a load of corn. His son Damon and nephew Clarence were plowing a field; Annie was making soap and Bertha his twenty-seven year old pregnant daughter was sweeping the backyard with her cousin Naomi. Another cousin, Eleanora, was cleaning the back porch and Damon’s wife Rosa was preparing lunch while her sister-in-law Bridie fed Rosa’s newborn child.
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”, “Those Dang Saucers Appear Everywhere” and more. Should you prefer to purchase the article only, contact me for more information.
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.
Want to know more or try out a free issue? You can download either (or both) of the January-February 2019 and March-April 2019 issues here: https://digging-history.com/free-samples/
Thanks for stopping by!
Tombstone Tuesday: John Wesley Fly
John Wesley Fly was born in Barry County, Missouri on March 7, 1844 to parents Asher Pipkin and Marillay (Cantrell) Fly. Asher and Marillay were born in Tennessee and John was one of fourteen children born to their marriage. His parents were devout Christians, Asher having first professed his faith in 1840 by joining the Methodist Church and four years later joining the Methodist Episcopal Church.
Marillay died in 1860 and Asher married Minerva Doty in 1862 and fathered four children with her. Meanwhile, the Civil War erupted and the state of Missouri was sharply divided as to its loyalties. Citizens of Barry County gathered soon after the first shots were fired at Fort Sumter and declared their intentions to remain neutral, fearing civil war could erupt within the borders of their county. Yet, despite the so-called Gadfly Resolution of 1861 (Gadfly was later changed to Corsicana) the county was indeed divided.
According to the White River Valley Historical Quarterly, the county was “sharply divided”18 with northern and eastern parts of the county solidly Union and the western and southern parts favoring the Confederacy. Of course, there were exceptions even around Gadfly where John’s sweetheart Charity Clark lived with her family.
John’s entry at Find-A-Grave, taken directly from The History of Fresno County, California19 indicates the Clark family had Southern sympathies, while their future son-in-law joined the Union Army in Fayetteville, Arkansas on January 3, 1863. He served in Company H of the Missouri Cavalry and fought at Little Rock and Camden, suffering nary a scratch.
During one furlough John returned home and found Charity had remained true to him, and on June 12, 1864 they were married in Newton County. John returned to the war; on February 8, 1865 his first child, a son named Fountain was born. In September of 1865 he was honorably discharged, and having been raised on a farm, took up farming in Barry County.
Asher died in 1868 and was remembered as a “man of extraordinary mind and especially in reference to the doctrine and discipline of the Church to which to which he belonged. He was a man of dauntless courage, yet humble, and affable and lamb-like. His life was a living epistle of Christianity, known and read of all men with whom he had intercourse. The subject of religion was his usual topic of conversation.”20
Four daughters were added to their family (Miranda, Gertrude, Roxie Ellen and Allie) before John and Charity decided to pull up stakes and move to Routt County, Colorado in 1883 — perhaps at the urging of his brother Albert who was enumerated there in 1880. There John worked successfully in the cattle industry until his health declined around the turn of the century.
After selling his stock John thought his health might improve, and when it didn’t his physicians advised him to move to a lower altitude. John had researched California and decided Fresno County would be their new home. He and Charity (and it appears their children) moved to Fresno County, California after selling the ranch in 1904.
John purchased land outside of Clovis which had been planted in peaches, but later sold ten acres when it proved to be too much work. After cutting down the peach trees he planted grapevines on the remaining five acres. John and Charity were members of the Clovis Methodist Episcopal Church where he served as a board member for several years. He was also a member of the G.A.R. (Grand Army of the Republic) Atlanta Post which met in Fresno.
John was a highly esteemed member of his community, remembered as a “brave old soldier with an enviable war record, and a citizen equally esteemed for his virtues as a man and father”. At the time of his death on January 20, 1924, John left behind his wife Charity, five children and several grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
Charity passed away on April 26, 1931 and the two share a gravestone, with a separate G.A.R. stone commemorating John’s Union service, in the Clovis Cemetery. Her name is engraved as “Charioty” and The History of Fresno County refers to her as “Charioty”, although most census records and their marriage record record her name as “Charity”.
While researching the story I found some more unusual/unique Fly family names: Saphronia was married to John’s brother Albert and they had children named Phariba, Dallas and Bunavista; two of Minerva and Asher’s children were named Florida and Oceaonda (females). Of interest to me is Oceaonda – a most unusual name – who married James Smith and moved to Oklahoma. She is buried in the same cemetery in Hominy, Osage County where my great-great grandfather Wylie Thomas Young is buried – who knows, they may have been acquainted.
Did you enjoy this article? Yes? 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.
Want to know more or try out a free issue? You can download either (or both) of the January-February 2019 and March-April 2019 issues here: https://digging-history.com/free-samples/
Thanks for stopping by!
Feisty Females: Was Emma Daugherty Banister Really America’s First Female Sheriff?
I ran across the name of Emma Daugherty Banister awhile back, along with claims she became the first female sheriff in the United States in August of 1918 after her husband John Banister, elected sheriff of Coleman County, Texas in 1914, died in office. I don’t remember what prompted me to investigate the claim further, but investigate I did. Here’s what I found out.
I don’t think Emma was the first female sheriff in the United States — as it turns out not even close. The New York World certainly thought it a big deal, however, with the headline “Woman a Sheriff!”. By 1918 it wasn’t unheard of – in fact had happened several times since the 1890’s – despite the fact the women’s suffrage movement had yet to win their years-long battle for equality. A quick search at Newspapers.com confirms it.
Did you enjoy this article snippet? Want to know more? This article has been significantly updated with new research and published in the November-December 2019 issue of Digging History Magazine. The magazine is on sale in the Digging History Magazine store and features these stories:
- The Burr Conspiracy: Treason or Prologue to War
- Finding War of 1812 Records (and the stories behind them)
- Sarah Connelly, I Feel Your Pain (Adventures in Research: 1812 Pension Records)
- Essential Skills for Genealogical Research: Noticing Notices
- Bullets, Battles and Bands: The Role of Music in War
- Feisty Female Sheriffs: Who Was First?
- The Dash: Bigger Family: (A Bigger and Better Story)
- Book reviews, research tips and more
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 85-100+ 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.
Want to know more or try out a free issue? You can download either (or both) of the January-February 2019 and March-April 2019 issues here: https://digging-history.com/free-samples/
Thanks for stopping by!