A Shaky Path and a Saint

1950

My father, after his illness, grew more content with his writing and study of the Confederate Navy, or with mediocre work. He had been well-educated and groomed for the easy life that never materialized. The cast enshrining him from his pampered youth and then from his more recent sickness became impenetrable. What caused his demise and girth of anger is hard to pin-point. Whether he grew cranky after his disease, or as a result of it, or just became more and more embittered over the years, no one knew.  His lack of initiative and apparent weakened condition, at least from his mother's perspective, precipitated Mamma's search for work as a money-maker.

       Since Nannie had worked for years at the State Highway Department, she felt no compunction about encouraging Deane to find work outside the home. In the 1950s, the vast majority of women stayed home and tended their families, especially white, young women with children. Reluctant to leave her two children, Deane nevertheless relented and found a job.

      Enter Wilma as the keeper of the house and children, better known as a maid, typified by her daily gray and white pressed uniform and white linen tiara. Kindness lined her angular face showing every bone beneath her yellow-hued skin. She showed no preference to either child, but thoroughly attended their needs, including the weekly bus rides that delivered six year-old Missie to and from Helen Thorington’s Dance School, George in tow.

In 1954, William was born, Mamma went back to work, Daddy floundered, and Wilma tended three children daily, from eight to five. The relationship between Mamma and Daddy continued on its shaky path to oblivion.

The Sweet and Sour Side of Romance

On Valentine’s Day, 1945, Deane and George Bibb produced a baby boy, George Bibb Edmondson, Jr.

From Letters, Images, and Newspaper Clippings and included in my book:
"A significant change in his health forced George Bibb to finally acquiesce to constant instruction and prompting from back home. G.B., Deane, and baby George left Wilmington and returned to Montgomery where hospitalization  for my father was eminent. Tests eventually revealed a dormant social disease had come to life and was attacking George Bibb’s body with ferocity. Prompted by her son’s “delicate condition” and eminent lengthy hospitalization, Mattie Bibb insisted that Deane take a leave of absence. Obediently, with mixed feelings of remorse and relief over her dismissal, she and her infant son left on the 5:45 to see her family in East St. Louis, Illinois.

Private Sonnet to My Love

Hand-written

1945

By George Bibb Edmondson

To Deane

I know you’re happy with your loving kin,

I’m glad you’ve made the awfully tiring trip

But I miss the ivory whiteness of your skin,

The chastity, fire, and sweetness of your lip,

The sky that’s in your azure eyes, the music of your voice

The fragrant, incandescence of your lovely hair,

One cannot fathom how you made your choice

When for the man you love, you learned to care.

We parted quickly at the train,

So quickly that we felt no pain.

But one detail was quite unforeseen

Now minutes get so slow,

It all just goes to show

A man can love, like I love my own

Deane!

Please darling, take whatever you like. Gosh, I love you.
GB

Upon their return, Deane and little George were soon reunited with G.B. on Moulton Street where they regrouped in the semi-privacy of their room for a brief period. But the process of recovery and elation over their reunion encouraged an alternative in their living arrangements. After a couple of months under the unwavering mantle of Nannie, they moved to their own apartment in a Victorian house only a few blocks from downtown and the ancestral home. Seventeen months later, little George had a sister when Elizabeth Deane Edmondson (Missie) was born."

So. I am born.
There was never any doubt on my part that my father adored my mother. His obsessive adoration smothered her and possibly had a role in his own downfall. My father's affection never extended beyond my mother, but the tender touches toward her were shaken off with disgust and not without reason. 
To be continued...

On the Road

Like I mentioned in yesterday's post, my father was soon to begin a new job that would take Mamma and him out of Montgomery for a while. Through family connections, he went to work for DuPont who moved them to Wilmington, Delaware.
From by book, here's a letter Mamma wrote Nannie from Wilmington.

7/21/44

(a memorable date)—four year anniversary

Dearest Mother:
Thank you so very much for sending the spoons to us and for the very nice gown. I intend to put it up and keep it until my trek to the hospital or until such time that I may need to look nice in bed. (if that’s possible!)
I haven’t written to you since we’ve had our glorious news, but you must know I’m as excited as can be. G. B. is exactly as I had expected him as a prospective father to be, kind, gentle, and quite ready to let me say things to him when I’m feeling badly that I wouldn’t say if I were well and he wouldn’t listen to if he were not the sweetest person in the world.

I made a visit to the doctor today and he said that I am getting on wonderfully. I make another visit on August 18th. He gave me the date for the birth as February 4th, ’45.
He measured me yesterday and I must say I felt exactly like a geometry problem.
If you were near me I could talk to you for hours on the subject but I’m really not that fond of writing...
End of excerpt

It's a strange thing to read a letter of apparent affection between Mamma and her mother-in-law. Of course I came on the scene later, but my recollections of the two of them are far from warm and fuzzy. I'll give a glimpse into that as the story unfolds. For now, I'll let Mamma, Daddy, and Nannie languish in the news of the forthcoming child. And I'll let them enjoy their time away from Montgomery. Had it lasted longer, who knows what might have happened?

Love Takes Root

Mr. and Mrs. Morris Robert Jones

Announce the marriage of their daughter

Elizabeth Deane

To

George Bibb Edmondson

On Sunday, July the twenty-first

Nineteen hundred and forty

          Beaumont, Texas

From Southern Bypass---
Elizabeth Deane Jones, my mother, married George Bibb Edmondson, my father, in a small ceremony in Beaumont, 1940, with her mother, father, sisters, and brother present. Mamma wore a navy suit, size 4. A steamy July afternoon, a platinum wedding ring, and a new name satisfied the new bride at first, but her gaze looked beyond to another open window and an opportunity to see the world. She and George Bibb left shortly en route to Montgomery, Alabama, to meet her new husband’s family, predominantly his matriarchal, reticent mother, better known in her ancestral town as Mattie Bibb.

The newlyweds landed with a resounding thud. Deane’s move as a bashful bride to the old Bibb mansion on Moulton Street provided quite the challenge. Mattie Bibb, proudly wore her heritage like the proverbial badge of honor. She was an aristocrat, both by nature and design. Her husband, a newspaper editor, had died at an early age with an infection from appendicitis and her widowed state held her captive in attire and state of mind. Mattie Bibb had coddled her son to the point of curdling as she consistently over-compensated for the early loss of his father.

Mamma's innocent beauty did little to fend her mother-in-law’s preconceived notion that her son should have married “much better” than this little uneducated girl from Kentucky. The new bride entered into this cohabitation with little choice or support, having no friends other than those who supposedly were her husband’s or mother-in-law's. The town offered the expected southern hospitality by throwing the round of parties for a new socially acceptable arrival, but after the glitter, only the afterglow remained and it soon dissipated. Deane and G.B. spent most of their time in the stuffy, hot, upstairs bedroom where writing poetry was blessed by Mattie Bibb’s adulation, and drooling over Deane was kept quiet. The isolation became stifling for the newlyweds and probably at Deane’s encouragement, George Bibb returned to work.

Work is the topic of the next post.

The Montgomery Bud

Montgomery’s Buds of 1936

George Bibb Edmondson

“Beauty in the Bud”

Montgomery Advertiser

March 4,1936

"George Bibb Edmondson, whose face you can’t fail to recognize, is the son of Mrs. Mattie Bibb Edmondson. He is a recognized beauty, possessed of inherited naturalness and graciousness. Secondarily interested in art, he has loaned his talent to the Little Theater, and his ability is heartily in demand for the forthcoming year, if his consent can be had. Naturally a reticent and demure blond, he is artistic in his taste, especially among the fairer sex. Mr. Edmondson received his education among the numerous pitfalls of the University of Alabama, where he was practically a member of the Kappa Delta Sorority. He is just one of the many buds about to bloom in this year’s crop, and marked favors will probably be extended to him as a courtesy."

Meanwhile, back in Beaumont,  not much more than a smile passed between George Bibb and the apple of his eye, my mother. But the spell was cast and her new suitor began a series of romantic gestures in an attempt to woo her. Employed by the Coca-Cola enterprise, he occasionally serviced the Texas area, finding more and more excuses to return and linger in Beaumont. George Bibb’s twelve year seniority made his attentiveness more alluring as he suavely and poetically romanced his heartthrob into accepting a proposal of marriage after only three months.

Gather the Roses Outside the Box

At this turn, the paper trail jumps from “the box” of antiquities, and picks up the pace or changes lanes at least. The meanderings surrounding my mother began in Kentucky and are examined via poems of affection from my father, a few letters to or from her, pieces from notes, or conversations, memories, or reflections, all attempts to creatively capture a very private person--my mother.

Elizabeth Deane Jones (Edmondson)

May 19, 1920 - May 10, 2005

Daughter of Hattie Mae Timmons and Morris Jones
Married July 21, 1940
George Bibb Edmondson, Sr.
1908-1978
Son of William Thomas Edmondson and Mattie Gilmer Bibb (Edmondson)

Excerpts from my book:

"Yearly autumnal gold glowed from the three namesake trees that covered the postage-stamp yard of the house in Fulton, Kentucky, where Momma lived as a child. Elizabeth Deane appeared shy, studious, and serious, a different breed entirely from her cabaret sister, Mary Sue, clearly the star of every endeavor. For the most part, the days waxed carefree and simple in their childish minds. The only acknowledged fear came from tremulous encounters and lingering impressions of the “The Mummy”, or “Frankenstein” brought home from the theaters their father managed in the town.  Those were the early imagined fears. The real monster entered their home and on a larger scale, the entire country.
The Great Depression choked life from their family and most others, depriving them of independence, opportunity, and hope.  For Momma, it meant a new role of greater responsibility in the on-going drama called family.
Along with the drastic economic changes,  Momma's father fell into a personal pit of despair with an exaggerated case of diabetes. His demise placed his oldest daughter in an accelerated role of nurse-maid to a father who rarely exited his room and even less frequently spoke. Momma's mother continued taking in odd jobs, trying to stitch the impossible things into an impression of stability for the family, but she too relied more and more on the oldest child for help. My mother's life began to resemble the white-wrapped mummy whom she had once viewed at her father's movie house.  She too became enshrouded, her encasing woven from duty.
An unexpected move after her junior year of High School took her and the Jones family to Beaumont, Texas, where Hattie Jones had relatives. Graduation from Beaumont High School and excellent grades afforded Elizabeth Deane a window and ticket to freedom via a scholarship to a nearby college, but the winds of reality quickly slammed the opening. The family’s reliance on the small income she provided as a car-hop disabled her departure.
Elizabeth Deane’s smile and shapely legs, showcased in the required shorts and roller skates, won the attention of many customers at the local drive-in restaurant. One gentleman in particular, a “Montgomery Bud”, took a serious yen toward this beautiful brunette as she glided a tray to his car and her way into his heart."
On the "bud" tomorrow.

Will-Power on the Road

This will do it for now for Nannie and her hoots. I'll resurrect her later, though, when I need her voice to narrate.
Here are some final thoughts at this juncture.

August 10, 1966

Dear Sarah,
…I consider my own survival one of God’s own miracles…When I was dying in 1948, Fred’s wife, Steele, said I must use will power. She little knew that I had been living by it since I was 17. Papa was stricken then. That night I analyzed will power to my own satisfaction. It is God’s will with our cooperation. Months later, a Negro maid who worked in the hospital while I was there met me on the street and exclaimed, “Nobody expected you to leave the hospital except in a box!” I fooled them again just last September. My great regret is that I am so weak that I can’t fulfill some family business instead of having to perform the routine duties of caring for an old woman. Most of my contemporary friends are mentally hazy so intend to form a club called the Doddering Dames so I am ready to join the Doddering Dames. The girls who forget their best friends’ names…
Always devotedly,
Mattie
_________________________________________________________

Nov. 2, 1966

Dear Sarah.
If I had given way to one of the habits of my early childhood, I would have yelled bloody murder when you and Bill drove off without me. Pa(Gov. Porter), Mamie, and Porter called my bluff one summer afternoon when they rode to the woods on horseback and left me squalling by the back porch in Paris (Tennessee), where Ma(Susanna Dunlap Porter) was sitting. As soon as the riders were out of earshot, Ma handed me a hearthbroom and said “Here, Mattie, sweep the brick wall.” Mattie obeyed like a lamb apropos of youth.

Please tell Bill that the animal he flushed under the dining table when you were leaving here was my pet weasel (alias Charlie). At the end of the day, he slips into my apartment and surprises me, so I give a loud cackle like a nervous hen…

The grandchildren here call me Nannie so I told George, Jr. that I would name my apartment, “Hootenannie Hall”. He advised against it because of the wild parties I’d have…
Dearest love,
Mattie

She was a hoot, in her own way. And she was wise, in that same indigenous manner. There are other things that she was also, but those things for now will remain under cover.  I'm only ending Nannie for now. Believe me, she had much more to say in the lives of those I am about to introduce.

On the Banks of the River Styx

Just a couple more examples of Nannie's way with words will suffice for this segment. Her letters, thankfully preserved by her cousin and returned to me, present a slice of history, not just of my family, but in general.  She sticks with her theme of pending death, naturally.

January 20, 1966

Thursday

Dear Disobedient Children,
The U.S. News and World Report failed to send me an expiration notice…Noah Webster failed in the last edition of his dictionary to include a word to express my gratitude to you two for keeping me from losing knowledge of world affairs…

At present, I am the only member of the family in a dying condition. Am still sitting on the banks of the River Styx, waiting for the ferryboat.

Missie here for three days after exams. George, Jr. caught a germ during holidays but is entirely well and studying hard. This is his junior year at Auburn. William will be 12 day after tomorrow. Chas. is seven, growing like a weed….
Love and countless thanks,
Mattie

April 28, 1966

Thursday

Dear Sarah,
My hair (all six of ‘em) is drying so am indulging myself by writing to you. George Bibb had Tuesday off because of Confederate holiday so he let me make my long belated trip to see my young doctor, Zack T. Trawick, who is the grandson of my late beloved friend, Priscilla Scott Marks. The name Priscilla runs through generations of the descendants of the famous Shakespearian actress, Priscilla Cooper, who married a Tyler, the President.

Deane took Charles to Dr. Jackson, the oculist, this A.M. because he complained of one eye when he went the other night to see his brother, Will, and other scouts at a meeting. Like Will, Charles is very near-sighted and must also wear glasses. The only comfort I can get from it is that I have been very far-sighted all my life. When I was seven, a tall country man called his family away from the race track of the county fair we were attending near Paris, Tenn. to “see the little gal with specs on.” My finest hour!

Martin seems to be the favored gubernatorial prospect. John Crommelin is considered an extremist because he tells the truth so never gets elected. His mother, Kate Gunter, another devoted friend of mine. Am now dying of hunger.

Best love to all forever more,
Mattie
PS The doctor says I must postpone my funeral. Bill probably knows Priscilla’s brother, Judge John Goodwyn, Ala. Supreme Court. .. I’ll even have to die covered by L.B. Johnson’s smoke screen--Medicare.

Nannie and her politics!  William and George are my younger brothers by eight and twelve years, respectively.  Deane is my mother. Her story is yet to be told.

On Memory Lane

More words from Nannie to her cousin. The give-away of her angst I see now, but again, did not when I was younger. She seems evermore insistent in her wishes for an end. I see such a parallel between her old house and her own life.

Dec. 1, 1965

Dear Peregrinating Pal Sal,

It was seasonable last night, cold, and the chill is still with us in spite of beautiful sunshine. So many of my kinspeople came during December. I’ll mention a few--Porter Bibb, Dec. 4., Gov. Jas. D Porter, Dec. 7, Josiah Horton Porter, Dec. 8, Robt. A. Porter, Sr., Dec. 10, Thos. Kennedy Bibb, Dec. 10. The last named was my baby brother who died when he was three months old. It seems December favored males. After all, Santa Claus is a man.

Deane worked herself to a nub for Thanksgiving. George and Missie were here, of course, with little time for sleep. George’s little girl friend, aged 18, was Deane’s house guest. Of course, George and girl went to game with another couple and an extra fraternity brother. There were parties after the War Eagle’s feathers drooped.

Missie had a dinner date with a young Lt. at Maxwell Field Officers’ Club. I believe girls are considered grown at 19, but I can’t realize that Missie is a young lady. She was kind enough to take me to the Fair (Montgomery Fair Department Store) to get a warm bathrobe, my first trip to a store since early July. It is my ambition to die at home but I try to be prepared if they drag me to the hospital again.

The sunshine is brilliant and beautiful and berries on the pyracantha are ready for Christmas. I hope eternal rest fills my stocking this year. Pa (Gov. Jas. D. Porter) was born 137 years ago. A fine gentleman. …I used to wish to see Paris, Tenn. again.

Always with love to you and yours,


Mattie

George, my brother, she mentions in this letter was attending Auburn University whose cry for victory, as all Alabamians know, is "War Eagle". Nannie showed her way with words in her reference to the drooping eagle's wings after a defeat to "Roll Tide" Alabama.

Mattie from Moulton to Hootenannie Hall

Nannie vacated the old house a year or so before the actual demolition. I guess it had become uninhabitable. I was away at college and totally self absorbed. How often I have wished I cared more at that age about other things than myself. Maybe I would have picketed the destruction of history.

January 5, 1965

Wednesday Night

Dear Sarah and Bill,
When I think of the fact that you two are giving me fifty-two gifts in 1965, bringing 365 days of pleasure and information to me, it is hard to word my thanks.
This can’t be a real letter as life presses hard and there is little time I can call my own. If—
“The cares that infest the day will fold their tents like the Arabs and as silently steal away”
maybe I can write a real letter soon. I owe more notes than usual. Am at Hootenannie tonight, sitting on the side of my bed by a small table.
Bell T.&T. promises to move my phone Friday. Kindness prevails out here (Anna Mae Shook Aldridge brought me the best cake I ever tasted on New Year’s Day) and I like it here but have the delusion that I’ll be going home before long. Maybe it’s because “One sweetly solemn thought came to me o’er and o’er. I am nearer home today than I ever have been before.”…
Love and wonderful wishes for health and happiness for all of you in A.D. 1965.
Mattie

Of course, I wonder if  the "home" she mentioned was her heavenly one or was it her home waiting for its execution.

A Sad Turn in the Road

An earlier post mentioned the end of Moulton Street. I'll spend more time on that transition since it seems pivotal in this telling of times and lives. In anticipation of the forthcoming demise, an article from the Montgomery Advertiser, 1964, said, "The passing will be mourned by those who cherish Southern tradition, but time and the elements have so deeply scarred the old residence that its destruction would seem inevitable. Patch-work repairs no longer suffice and a general restoration is not feasible, either structurally or financially. Over six decades have passed since it was last painted.
Mrs. Mattie Bibb Edmondson, one of seven generations in the same family who have lived in the house, said she expects to move out in a few months. She will live with her son, George B. Edmondson, at Thorn Place."

Despite their desire, both the house and Nannie grew incapable of tending to the voices of old that had created their persona. However, the eroding exteriors did little to minimize their constant composure and rich intelligence. The demise of the old house circumvented, defined, and ended a long life and at a distance, the old gospel tunes resounded in mournful lyrics and whispered tribulations.

Nannie was a prolific and witty writer. The essay upon her graduation(posted earlier) gives merit to that statement, although her wit wasn't apparent in the flowery dissertation. The next few posts will showcase her wit as well as her grief as she prepared to exit the home of her heart. I'll use her words in a series of letters to let her speak for herself.

From Mattie Gilmer Bibb Edmondson

To Cousin S. P. M.

Last Day of Nov. 1964

Montgomery

Monday

Dear Sarah,
The wind began bombarding the northwest side of brave Moulton, 111, about 4:00 a.m. so would like to go to bed now, about 11:00 a.m…
The stove and refrigerator are already installed in Hootenannie Hall so must try to begin to live there or starve to death. My cot on Moulton is still very comfortable…
Have just phoned T. B. Hill’s office. Wish to make an appointment about re-writing my will. The one I have now is 21 years old. I am not one of those old people who wishes to dictate to my heirs after I am dead. Life has taught me that I don’t have the wisdom to read the future. Did I tell you the old gas chandeliers in the old parlors are beautiful since they have been cleaned. Pure brass. Hope to get mine in the funny, funny little parlor before long.

Devotedly yours,
Nannie of Hootenannie Hall

 Hootenannie Hall refers to Nannie's new home on Thorn Place in the side apartment of her son's home that happened to be my home too. I was in college when the actual move transpired.

Nannie continues in another letter to her cousin in Birmingham, Alabama, to speak of the unfathomable challenge before her. I realize now what she must have been feeling, but back then she rarely verbally lamented her grief to me. Oh. The "Missie" of whom she speaks is me, the not-so-beautiful-but-sho-is-sweet- one.  Read on to hear it from Nannie.

Montgomery

Friday, the 13th

November, 1964

Dear Sarah,
How in the world am I to catch up on writing you of my struggles of moving? Susie Porter(daughter) arrived by plane three weeks ago. She spent the first night here but went to the Whitley for the two other nights when was in town as the furniture men took the bed in Mamie’s room. I have slept on a cot for weeks having had my bed moved when men were moving my heaviest pieces of furniture. I am virtually policing the place until I can get most valuable moved. The weather has been kind to me but rain would be welcome if not followed by a freeze.
Continued…
Missie arrived tonight for week-end. She needs a new white formal to wear Elite Night at Montevallo, having been nominated as a beauty. She may not be beautiful, but she ‘sho’ is sweet.
Even the doctor I went to today spoke of Missie’s pleasing personality. When I told …that my only trouble was old age, he exclaimed, “Horrible! It always kills you!”

More from the horse's mouth and pen tomorrow.

My First Steps with Nannie

As I mentioned in an earlier post, my first childhood memories come from Moulton Street where Nannie and Mamie lived and I frequently visited. The first interactions I recall from Moulton St. began in the 1950s and continued until the house's demolition in the mid 1960s. Time is an odd illusion. The hours, months, years I spent in or around Moulton St. seem far more extensive than the actual count.

In the blooming days of the home, evening meals had been served by the servants around a huge mahogany table in the vast dining room. The esteemed china and glassware may have been used regularly, but I hardly think that to be true since much of it remains in tact today. By the time I arrived on the scene, Nannie and I ate alone at a blue enamel-topped metal table in the out-dated kitchen. No one served us, though Mary Chilton faithfully worked for Nannie during the day. Such a kind and gentle woman, Mary was, but Nannie occasionally treated her with little respect. My countenance deflated with each of my grandmother’s barbed words and belittling chides, not toward me, but toward Mary who ducked her head and cowered away like a scolded dog. I, too, ducked away under the unpleasantness, more embarrassed perhaps than Mary Chilton.

Nevertheless, in my innocence, I gave my grandmother the latitude and respect she needed to hold court. She frequently and proudly reminisced with stories of old that prompted her faraway pleasant trance and the approving nods from ancestral portraits in validation of her recollections. I listened half-heartedly to the familiar refrain that echoed Nannie’s instruction on how to keep the southern belles chiming the chorus of old. Usually, when she could hold my attention or stillness no longer, I looked toward the kitchen where my favorite Danish Wedding Cookies awaited and on cue provided a timely exit from the one-way conversation.

A Noticeable Trail-The Working Woman

A few years after graduation from Mrs. Trimble's, Nannie decided to become a librarian.

From a newspaper article written on the occasion of the closing of the old library in Montgomery. At the time of this writing, Nannie was no spring chicken, but the article describes her when she was quite a young thing:

Advertiser-Journal

Social Section

Montgomery, Ala.

Sunday, May 22, 1960

Nostalgic Scenes Come to Mind as Doors Close on Old Library

By Madera Spencer

"Mrs. W. T. Edmondson, 117 Moulton, the former Mattie Gilmer Bibb, worked with the first librarian, Miss Laura Martin Elmore, when the library building was brand new in 1902. In order to secure her job she had to take a competitive examination, then serve an apprenticeship for six months without pay, except for three dollars on Sunday when she kept the library reading room open.

At the end of six months she became a paid library employee, receiving $40 a month salary. Mrs. Edmondson recalls that all the ladies working in the library were required to wear long sleeve dresses and high collars when on duty.

When she began her training as a librarian, she had to take an entrance examination in order to get in the first school of librarianship in the South, which was located in Atlanta and had been endowed by Andrew Carnegie for whom the library in Montgomery was named. This school was later absorbed by Emory University and young Mattie was one of the 10 women accepted for the first class session which lasted from September 1905 to June 1906. When she returned to work in the library in Montgomery, she was the first graduate librarian ever permanently employed in the city"

In 1907, Nannie (Mattie Gilmer Bibb) married a gentleman from Anniston, Alabama, named William Thomas Edmondson, Jr., a writer for local newspapers. William and Mattie had two children-- my father, George Bibb Edmondson, Sr., and Susanna Porter Edmondson, or "Susie Porter" for short. Unfortunately, William became ill and died in 1922, leaving Nannie with a fourteen year old son and twelve-year old daughter.

This next news clipping certainly brought news to me. I had previously known nothing about Nannie’s time in Birmingham or her time driving the “bibliobus”. In fact, I had never known her to drive at all. This tangential short-cut occurred after the early loss of her husband and as a result of her resolve.

The Birmingham News

Sunday, September 1926

A Ride on the Bibliobus

Rural Jefferson Folks, Avid for Books, Learn to Look for Trips of Bibliobus

Traveling Library Fills Long Time Need in Lives of Country Dwellers

By Edna Kroman

From atop his mule the ragged urchin flashed a smile of triumph at the librarian.

“Why Meth!” Mrs. Edmondson, from her seat aboard the Jefferson County Circulating Library bus expressed pleased surprise at seeing again the youngster she had missed for several months. For a time he had been one of her steady customers, and then, without a word, he had disappeared. “Where did you come from?”

“Howdy, mum.” Meth grinned, his eyes, however, hungrily on the books. “My folks done moved 12 miles up the country, but I been hankering after a book and knowed I’d git here for one. So ma plagued pa to let me have the mule, and it rained so hard last night he couldn’t plow, no way today.”

And the warmth which folded itself about Mrs. Edmondson’s heart made her forget the rough roads, the choking dust and the tire which she had had to change alone.

After two years, Nannie returned home to “The Cradle” from whence she came and for a year continued her work as a librarian. Her next stop on the working woman's track took her to the State Highway Department where she worked until 1956.

Nannie's Early Path 1899

At this point, I’ll track Nannie from her earliest days, or at least the ones I have in my archives. Her apparent early writing prowess began with this document, her graduation essay from Mrs. Trimble’s School for Girls in Montgomery. She had attended the school for her entire school life.  She is pictured (center bottom) with her class.
I quote in part:

Graduation Essay

Mattie Gilmer Bibb

Graduation from Mrs. Trimble’s School for Girls

Montgomery, Alabama

1899

Class Valedictorian

The Bloomy Flush of Life

"Youth is like a bright, tropical island in the sea of life, the fresh verdure, the rippling blue waters, the hills looming in the distance, and even the scintillating stars seem ever young and fair, for they are a part of the roseate dawn of life. Now comes the inspiration which never entirely dies out of the heart, not even after the joys of childhood are flown. The ways of the world are new to us, we have faith, and courage, we try to brave the troubles in our path, we grasp our staff, and begin to climb the mountain of difficulties which confront us, we strive for the goal of happiness on the high summit, which towers heavenward...

When the aural light of youth shines round us, we fix our hearts on some one object, which when we could clasp it, eludes us like the will-o-the-wisp, and we see the flickering light go deeper into the darkness; we gaze searchingly back through the closing gate of childhood, but it is not there; we seek to question the future but from the laughing winds and the echoing hills, we hear only the word hope. Again we see it shining before us, and we rush onward eagerly, but it fades like the beautiful mystical mirage of the desert. It is now we must lay the foundation stone for future years, when the bloomy blush of life has faded into a different but grander beauty..."

Nannie's conclusion included these words:

Now comes the sad unwelcome task of bidding farewell to the only teacher I have known, doubly sad because it was she who led me through the mysteries of the alphabet and steered me successfully through the whole scholastic course. Words cannot tell how grateful I feel for her patient training of heart and brain. We bid her farewell but only for a short time.."

Obviously, Nannie revered her long-time teacher and the group of women with whom she'd shared her formal education until her 17th year. More on Nannie's pilgrimage toward the southern bypass in the next post.

Next Up--Nannie

We're moving along at a much more progressive pace as we travel farther into the 1900s. Next in the line of sojourners is my grandmother, the one along the trail about whom I have the most extensive first-hand knowledge. We had many times together for over twenty-two years.  My awareness of life and of me formed on Moulton Street with my grandmother.

Introducing---

Mattie Gilmer Bibb (Edmondson)

June 26, 1882 - March 4, 1969

“Nannie”

Daughter of Dr. William George Bibb and Susanna Dunlap Porter Bibb
Married 1907
William Thomas Edmondson, Jr. of Anniston, Ala.

Oct. 24, 1880-Oct. 7, 1922

The photo shows four generations--in the center, again, Mamie, in her lap, my older brother, George, behind Mamie, my father, George Bibb Edmondson, Sr., and last, Nannie.
Time and staleness had taken their toll on the outside of the Bibb home and permeated the walls with decay by the time I started visiting Nannie's in the early 1950s. The antique furnishings original to the house, nursed by four or five Bibb generations, showed serious signs of malnutrition, as did the house. The floors had blackened with an oily covering that easily darkened my bare feet as I romped through the house. The exterior planks of pine grayed like their last breath had been drawn. Yet, for me, the mysterious house oozed magic, nothing less than a laboratory for my imagination. Who lived at the top of the creepy dark staircase? What secrets remained behind the locked doors up there where no one went anymore? What fate awaited if I fell off either side of the old brick path encircling the home?

Nannie personified her material soul-mate, the ancestral home, both characters deeply grounded in Southern history and loyalty to the Confederacy. My grandmother and the aging home exuded outmoded natures evidenced in their adherence to the old styles. A rare breed for the times, the house and Nannie readily attracted attention. Nannie’s caricature would have drawn a small woman dressed in a high-necked belted black dress covering sagging breasts, a black broad-brimmed hat over bobby-pinned bun, white gloves, black handbag, and dark penciled eye-brows.

What was Nannie like as a younger woman? Before I knew her? Next up, Nannie as a blooming youth.

Remembering Mamie

My memories of my great-grandmother, Mamie, are hazy and few. Her husband had died decades before I entered the picture.

My earliest recollection brings to mind a very old lady seated in a dark mahogany rocker, her apparent antiquity evidenced not only in appearance, but in the scent of old age. The past era’s glow dimmed along with Mamie’s demise, yet the essence of another time hung unwaveringly like a guest who overstayed his welcome. Mamie regularly wore a somber long dress and tasseled black or white shawl, wrapped snugly like her taut white bun  and braids clutching her head. Youth undeniably colored my impressions of Mamie. The article from the 1935 “Birmingham News” enhanced her image into more dimension than my memory had preserved. I was only seven when she died.

From another newspaper article:

Montgomery Advertiser

Sunday August 31, 1941

Bibb Home is Mellow with Age and Traditions

"The drawing room to the left of the front door excites the imagination with its perfect blending of period furniture. The subtle soft pastels of the upholstery and old paintings vie for first place along with the glistening patina of antique mahogany, rococo, and Waterford. Several long settees or sofas are of carved mahogany. The intricate design of the Chippendale mirror shown on this page is evidence of the quality..."

Under a picture accompanying the article:
"Rosewood Table. Early Victorian with blue-veined marble top. The marble mantel in the background is Victorian and the vases at each end of the mantel shelf are Dresden."

The mirror mentioned in the article is partially shown in the photo of Mamie. The baby in the portrait is William George Bibb, Mamie's husband, and the other portrait is George Rockingham Gilmer, brother of Sophie Bibb who, along with her husband, built the house in 1828.

The Montgomery Trail

We are well settled in Montgomery by this turn in the tale. Moulton Street has been the bastion for several generations by the turn of the 19th century, and new generations are becoming the keeper of the "holy grail" and all it holds dear--memories at the top of the list. Then of course, the old glass and china and furniture and what-nots beckon to be preserved and revered forever and ever. Amen. Here's a quote from a newspaper article:

Sunday, January 20, 1935

The Birmingham News—Age-Herald

Ante-bellum Bibb Home is Kept in Old Splendor

By Varian Feare

" “Shall I stop here, or knock, perchance to break this pleasant spell of tranquility?” I asked, but scarcely before I was aware a maid was at the door to announce that Dr. Porter Bibb was not in. “So endeth my assignment,” I concluded. But not so, for another adventure in personalities awaited me.

The maid was dismissed and I was asked in. The moment I saw her, Mrs. Susie Porter Bibb, I knew that it was she who held the key to the delightful tranquility that emanated the beautiful old place. She was the epitome of quiet charm, the movement of her capable hands, her carriage, her soft voice.

Before I was aware, I was lost in a perfectly happy time. My hostess came to this home as the bride of Dr. Bibb, leaving the capital city of Tennessee to assume a new home in a new capital city. Her father, at the time of her marriage, was governor of Tennessee and Maxwell House itself was gay with the festivities of her wedding.
Undoubtedly she brought much to the lovely Bibb home, for even today though there are no little children slipping down its satiny banister, there is all about an air of complete living, an atmosphere that makes one feel that here little children have been reared to manhood and womanhood without regret...
…here is and has been a real home, a happy home of love, where women smiled and reigned, … and in my mind came forth memory of a verse written by someone and reading.
'Fill the house with choicest treasures,
send your vessels o’er the seas,
Gather treasures from the Indies,
and from far-famed Araby;
Hoard them up within the four walls,
vacant still the house will seem
Till some woman fair adorn it
with her smiling face serene.'

It was then I decided I was too content to seek out any other data that day. The personality of Mrs. Susie Porter Bibb had brought tranquility in the calm and pure domestic peace of the old home. …"

My take on Mamie in tomorrow's post.

A Path Between Paris and Montgomery

After ten years of marriage, Dr. Bibb and his wife, Susanna, had birthed their four children, Mattie Gilmer Bibb, Dr. James Porter Bibb, George Dunlap Bibb, and Fred Lewis Bibb. The photo shows the distinguished Dr. Bibb and his exquisite mustache.

A hand-written letter with an attached lock of blond hair arrived in Montgomery in 1888. The author, Clintie Porter, was married to Susanna's brother, Dudley. Mattie, the child mentioned in the following letter, was the only daughter of the Bibbs, and she was my grandmother.

From Cousin Clintie Porter to Susanna. D. P. Bibb (Mamie)

Paris, Tennessee

May 24, 1888

Montgomery, Alabama

Dear Cousin Susie,
"Dudley and I were delighted to get little Mattie’s picture. Tell her it is just like her and everyone that has seen it says it is beautiful. I know little Dudley thought it was pretty too, for I was afraid he would ruin it kissing it, before I could get it away from him. …
I have thirty young turkeys. I am afraid I won’t raise many though for little Dudley runs them every day and yesterday killed one! ….Little Dudley hasn’t any pictures but requests me to send little Mattie one of his curls."
With much love
Yours affectionately
Clintie
The home is the Porter home in Paris, Tennessee, and the photo represents four generations of family.

Weaving a Path Back Home

Introducing the next in the long and winding line, the daughter of Governor James Davis Porter and---

My Great-Grandmother

Susanna Dunlap Porter (Bibb)

“Mamie”

Married 1878
Dr. William George Bibb (Martha Dandridge's son)

1854 – 1902
Children—
Mattie Gilmer Bibb
Dr. James Porter Bibb
William George Bibb, Jr.
Fred Bibb

When William George Bibb married Susanna Porter, the daughter of Governor James Davis Porter of Paris, Tennessee, he stole her away to Montgomery, Alabama.


Newspaper Clipping
Unidentified Newspaper
From Susanna Dunlap Porter Bibb’s Scrapbook

"Dr. W. G. Bibb, of Montgomery, Ala., and Miss Susie D. Porter, daughter of Governor Porter, were married on Tuesday morning the 25th inst., at the Maxwell House, in Nashville, Rev. Thos. O. Summers officiating.
The marriage was private, and the happy parties left soon thereafter for their future in Montgomery, Alabama.
The beautiful bride is a native of Paris, and numbers among her friends all who know her. The groom, who is said to be an elegant gentleman, and talented man and physician, has won a great and priceless prize.
Many are the good wishes of friends. May their lives be bright and happy. Our society sustains the loss of one of its brightest ornaments and jewels, and Montgomery is the gainer by our loss."

Newspaper Article

S.D. P. Bibb’s Scrapbook

On the Wedding—

"….Shortly after the ceremony the couple accompanied by the mother of the bridegroom took the train for Montgomery. The Governor’s winsome daughter had many warm admirers among the beaux in Nashville, who are doubtless anything but pleased at the success of the Alabama rival; but their heartiest of wishes will follow the fair young bride to her new home."

William George Bibb and his bride set up housekeeping in his hometown at the old Bibb mansion on Moulton Street where the groom had been raised. His medical practice and budding family took root in Montgomery.

The Centennial Buckeye Cook Book

These two letters came from Marysville, Ohio, and  First Congregational Church's women who were soliciting recipes from the Governors' wives for their cookbook. Although they had to approach Mrs. Governor Porter twice, she did finally send them a recipe for her "Silver Cake". The letters read as follows:

Charles Phellis

W. W. Woods

R. M. Henderson,

Cash

Marysville, Ohio

June 15, 1876

Mrs. Gov. Bibb Tenn.
Dear Madam,
"The women of the 1st Congregational Church are collecting recipes for a cook book to be issued shortly entitled “Centennial Cook Book”. They wish to have a department containing a recipe from the wife of the Pres. and the wives of the present governors, of cake, or any article of cooking they may have to send (selected or original) Your name will appear with the recipe.
By complying with this request, you will assist in lifting our church debt, and greatly oblige us."
Respectfully yours,
Mrs. W. W. Woods, Sec.

2nd Letter

Hand-written

by Mrs. W. W. Woods, Sec.

August 1st, 1876

Mrs. Gov. Porter
Dear Madam,
"About two months since we sent you a letter (containing an addressed envelope) asking for a recipe (either selected or original) for our “Centennial Buckeye Cook Book”. A few weeks we also sent you a postal card, as yet, we have not been favored with a reply. As the book is to be dedicated to the wives of the Governors of 1876, we are very desirous that this department should be complete. About two thirds of the states have responded ( most of them sending several recipes.)
Please reply at once and very much oblige.
Yours Respectfully,
Mrs. W. W. Woods Sec.
PS Where the Governor is unmarried, or a widower, we dub the recipe, either Cookery, Flora, Farming or Miscellaneous from him. Gov. Rice of Mass. kindly sent us three."

The first edition of the Centennial Buckeye Cook Book was published in 1876. Between 1876 and 1905, a total of thirty-two editions of the cookbook were published, and more than one million copies sold. The book began as a project of the Marysville, Ohio, First Congregational Church when the women of the church decided to publish a cookbook in order to raise money to build a parsonage. Their effort launched a cookbook that rapidly became one of the most popular publications of nineteenth-century America. There were 28 contributors, including Mrs. Rutherford Hayes of the “celebrity” caliber. Mrs. Governor Porter was among them.

I think with this sweet recipe for a successful cookbook, I'll close on the Porter/Dunlap clan. There's more in my book, but for expediency, and not to tell all, I'll move along in these posts.

Mrs. Gov. Porter’s Recipe

SILVER CAKE.

Three-quarters pound sugar, three-quarters pound butter, whites twelve eggs, yolks of two, tea-cup sweet milk, three tea-spoons yeast powder, flour to suit; beat yolks and half the sugar till very light, add whites and rest of sugar, butter, and flour enough to make a batter rather stiffer than for pound-cake.--Mrs. Gov. Porter, Tennessee.

Losing the Way

This letter continues the path with James Davis and Susanna Dunlap Porter. The previous post contained a letter written pre-Civil War by James. After the war in which he participated with full-force and heart, he went back to his law practice and public service that usually kept him away from home for long periods.
On lost friends and causes, he had this to say to his wife:

Nashville

Jan. 21st, 1870

To Mrs. Jas. D. Porter, Jr.

Paris, Tenn.

"Dear Sue:
I have just received your letter of the 17th inst; all you say of the children is very pleasing to me I assure you, and creates a very great anxiety to see them as well as yourself. My baby boy must be a progressive specimen of young America, and I would be very happy indeed if I could see the little fellow today.
I dined on yesterday in company with a dozen ex-Confederation friends, members of the Convention, at the house of my friend, Alex Porter. It was the first time I have been out since I have been here, and I am sorry that I was too unwell to do justice to the elegant feast prepared for us; it was a reunion of army friends who had been in the 'imminent deadly breach' together and who had seen the flag of our hopes and lore go down in defeat. Often we had carried it bravely through four years of war and mainly strife. This meeting around the festive board was a happy one, and a sad one too. When an incident of our soldier’s life would be related, either of … and pride, or of bold enterprise, the memory of some fellow comrade would come upon us, only to remind us of the sad and unwelcome truth that the places of loved and lost friends are vacant forever. I have not seen such an elegant entertainment for many years or such an enjoyable one.
I have nothing special to write. I hope you are all well and happy, and with much love and kisses for all, believe me"
Faithfully yours,
Jas. D. Porter, Jr.

I find his formality of closure humorous and yet, probably indicative of the formality of the day.  I hope their time together (and apparently they had time together as evidenced by the continuing line of children) was less formal. He called her Sue. Wonder if she called him "James D. Porter, Jr.".  On paper, at least, there seemed an air of distance, and that was when he only traveled to Nashville. Later, Chile.

To be continued...

Oh Susanna

The most intimate portrait I can paint of Sue will begin with a letter her husband wrote to her while he was detained with the Legislature in Nashville during a special session in 1861. He was an active participant in the memorable proceedings of that session when Tennessee dissolved her relations with the Federal Government. He was the author  "Porter Resolutions" passed in 1861 which pledged Tennessee to co-operate with the South in case of war between the States, but stated he hoped there would be a peaceful solution.

Nashville

Jan. 28th, 1861

Mrs. Jas. D. Porter, Jr.

Paris, Tenn.

Dear Sue:

I have been the bluest, and the saddest poor fellow for several days, you understand, half sick with sore eyes, and away from you and the babies! Quite a formidable array of grievances, and with no certain prospect of relief from either….when can we leave, is the perplexing, question profounded by every member I meet who has any interest at home, and no one can give another much comfort or consolation, except it be to “crys“ a dozen or more talking machines, whose stock in trade seemed inexhaustible and who seem to have no idea how to dispatch business, except through the medium of long winded speeches, delivered to empty seats. I will be at home about night next, without fail, you may expect me then.

I received a letter from you this morning informing me that you and the children were doing “finely”. Just continue that style, will you? My love and a kiss to you and the little ones."

Faithfully yours,

Jas. D. Porter, Jr.

More from the couple in upcoming posts.

Susanna's Backroads

Susanna Eliza Dunlap married a fellow who worked for her father's law firm. His name--James Davis Porter. Background check on Susanna and her folks begins here.

From family records, the document written by Dr. J. G. M. Ramsey is an unpublished piece written for James D. Porter. Dr. James Gettys McGready Ramsey was one of the earliest successful doctors in Knox County and later became the most respected historian of the period. His book, Ramsey's Annals of Tennessee, which he wrote from 1840-1853, was considered the most authentic coverage of that period. He and James D. Porter were friends.

Excerpts

Sketches—Incidents—Dates-- of the Life of Devereaux Gilliam, and of his Son-in-law,

Hugh Dunlap, Sr.

Author Dr. J. G. M. Ramsey

"Devereaux Gilliam came …to this Frontier (upper end of Knox, then Hawkins or Greene). His grant from North Carolina embraced, I think, about 800 acres. Beginning at a stone marked D. C. 20 poles above the confluence of the Holston with the French Broad River, running in straight line nearly to the mouth of Swan-Pond Creek on the east branch of Holston—thence with the meanders of that stream to the junction with French Broad and with its up course 20 poles to the rock, the beginning corner."

The land description is certainly more colorful than those of modern times. I suppose the stones and mounds worked sufficiently. Again, a house is described and a home is established in new territory.

"A most beautiful point—having a large mound perhaps 100 yards from each river. I do not know when Mr. G. erected his buildings. I believe it was in 1788 or 9, it was the best dwelling house in this then now country, 24 by 18 stone chimney, the first house two stories high covered with joint shingles and nailed with hammered penny nails, and the most elegant and complete house in the general neighborhood. Soon after its erection, it became Gilliam’s Fort or Station. It was built of logs well hewed and closely notched down, with port holes between the logs."

A little about their early lives and personal characteristics, and then, Susanna.

"Mr. G. was from Virginia, a perfect gentleman of the old school of culture and refinement, well-informed, hospitable, courteous, fond of dogs and sports of the chase, liberal alike to poor and rich, full of enterprise, fond of good living and fun. His house was open to all and a centre of attraction. He was convivial and social, moral, but did not belong to any church, though he contributed the full share to the salary of …of the Presbyterian Pastor of Lebanon church, close-by his residence. Mrs. Gilliam, his wife, was a lady of taste and culture, also from Virginia. She was always distinguished for her loveliness, benevolence, and her piety and devotion to domestic duties. In short, she possessed all the good qualities and graces...Her oldest daughter became the belle of the Frontier of Tennessee. She became the wife of Hugh Dunlap, Esq. After their marriage in about the year 1792, this young couple settled in Knoxville. Their house was between Cumberland and Main Streets on what was then Water now Crozier Street. Mr. and Mrs. Dunlap were thus among the earliest citizens of Knoxville. Their first child was Richard Gilliam Dunlap, the first male child born in our city…"

One of Hugh Dunlap's thirteen sons was General John H. Dunlap of Paris, Tennessee, He was the father of Susanna Eliza Dunlap (Porter).  Pictured here is the Dunlap/Porter family in Paris, Tennessee.

Governor Porter's Path

This post is strictly a bio on James D. Porter and is from my book. This photo was taken on the front porch of the Porter home in Paris, Tennessee, and it pictures Gov. Porter, and two of his grandchildren, George Bibb Edmondson (my father) and Susanna Porter Edmondson (Susie Porter Hotelling)

Notes on James Davis Porter

Father of Susanna Dunlap Porter Bibb (my great grandmother)

From Family Documents

"JAMES DAVIS PORTER was born in Paris, Tennessee, December 7, 1828, and died May 18, 1912. Dr. Thomas Kennedy Porter married Geraldine Horton in Davidson County, Tennessee, February, 1824, and were the parents of James Davis Porter. His grandparents, Hannah  (Kennedy of the Old Stone House Kennedys)and William Porter, also named a child James Davis Porter, born in 1803; hence, their grandson later signed his name, James D. Porter, Jr. when he wrote personal letters

He received a Bachelor of Arts degree from the University of Nashville in 1846. He went on to study law under his future father-in-law, as well as to serve in the Tennessee House of Representatives until the outbreak of the Civil War. In 1861, Governor Isham Harris appointed him Assistant Adjutant-General in the Provisional Army of Tennessee, and he continued to serve when the state's forces were transferred to the Confederacy, rising to the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel. Porter helped organize the Army of Tennessee and was Gen. B.F. Cheatham's chief of staff.

After the war ended, he returned to his law practice and then served as Judge of the 12th Judicial Circuit of Tennessee for four years before undertaking a successful campaign for governor. A strong advocate of education, Porter played a key role in establishing the George Peabody College for Teachers in Nashville and during his administration the first black medical school-Meharry Medical College-was founded. Porter was less successful in resolving the problem of the state's debt. After leaving office, he became president of the Nashville, Chattanooga and St. Louis Railroad Company. He served as Assistant Secretary of State under President Grover Cleveland from 1885 until 1887. In 1893 President Cleveland made him Minister to Chile, a post that he held for two years."

A reader might wonder about this photo. On the back is a  description typed by Gov. Porter. He says "This is a part of a mirror imported from Spain by Francisco Pizarro when he became Captain (dark spot covering writing) of Peru. It was presented to me at the national Palace by the President of the Republic of Peru, in 1891. Jas. D. Porter."

"Having already been chosen president of the Board of Trustees of the University of Nashville, he became the University's Chancellor in 1901, and in 1902 he was chosen to serve as President of Peabody Normal College. When the two schools merged, he became President of the new George Peabody College, serving until 1909."

Well, that read like an obituary. Enough said on him. I certainly respect his accomplishments, and there were plenty. I also admire his softer side. The more personal side shows when I get to his communications with his wife.

Stone House

I am really intrigued with old houses and wish like crazy walls could talk. Or at least, answer  some of my questions. Otherwise, I suppose it's best they can't.  One old house that has captivated my imagination is the Old Stone House of Covington, Kentucky, built by the Kennedy family in 1795 but, as I said yesterday, not completed until 1802.   Mary Hannah Krout's poetic prowess showed up in "the box" with this poem about the house. Her words indicate to me the lure of the house to generations who knew the walls well, as she obviously did.

The Old Stone House
M.H. Krout

Back from the noise of busy Street

The bustle of traffic and passing feet

With quaint queer windows and blackened roof

It proudly stands from the world aloof.

While the years with their changes have come and gone

From germ to blossom, from night to dawn

The shadows have fallen across the eaves

Of nearly a hundred summer leaves.

When the busy city spreads far and wide

The fruits of her labor in haughty pride

Unbroken forests stretched dark and still

The wild deer drank from the limpid rill

The Fox and Panther. The Wolf and the Bear

Wandered unharmed and unhunted there.

Save when the Indian with light bow bent

And through the coverts his arrows spent.

I'm skipping some of the verses to continue with the last two:

There life first throbbed in the baby’s breast

There the young grew aged and dreamed of rest

The bride came in at the open door

Where the dead went out to return no more.

There is little of life, of its joys and grief.

Its many trials, its pleasure brief.

Of birth, of marriage, of shine and knell

If its walls might speak what they could not tell.

It keeps its councils dark and dumb

It waits for the day that will surely come

When we shall be gathered to those that sleep

And others will struggle and trial and weep

Unclaimed by honor unknown to fame

A broken stone with a moss grown name.

It’s all of our story the world will know

While the years will come and the years will go

These strangers and aliens will tear it down

And give its place to the growing town.

Oakland Farm, Dec. 26, 1881

Her poem is unpublished and as far as I know, "the box" held the only copy. Sadly, the original house of the poem was torn down in 1909 after being purchased by Dr. Louise Southgate, a relative of the Kennedy’s. She had offered the house to the City of Covington as an historic building, but apparently the city turned her down, and Dr. Southgate had it demolished. A plaque in the George Rogers Clark Park, which is in front of the location of the house, shows a picture of it. Another Kennedy home, the Southgate Kennedy house, built in the late 1800’s, still stands at 2nd and Garrard.

Now I  can return to a bit more on James Davis Porter in the upcoming post.

Kentucky Two-Step

I changed course again. Instead of the correspondence I promised in yesterday's post,  I thought some ancestral background should come into the picture. Hence, the name of this post brings Kentucky's path into the limelight amid the twists and turns heading toward the southern bypass. It brings the trail from the Kennedys to the Porters, and aha! James D. Porter, the star (so to speak) of this section.

The following entry is an excerpt from another document found in the proverbial "box". The author puzzled me. Who in the world is M.H. Krout and why would she be writing about the Kennedy family and Old Stone House? The question led me on an interesting hunt to discover a woman before her time in Mary Hannah Krout. She lived in Crawsfordsville, Indiana, an unlikely place to find someone with first-hand knowledge about an old Southern family from Kentucky. But after I researched her, I found that she was an author, poet, newspaper reporter, world traveler, AND a leading feminist of her day. The tie-in came with the discovery that her paternal grandmother was a Kennedy from Covington.

Hand-written circa 1871

M. H. Krout

Thomas Kennedy, Sr. was born in the North of England, 1703, of Scotch Irish decent, and Presbyterian. He immigrated to America at an early day and settled in Chester Co. Pennsylvania, on Brandy Wine Creek near a Presbyterian Church of the same name, Brandywine. He was probably the only child. Thomas Kennedy, Sr. was married in Chester Co., Penn., to Margaret _____(name not known) and had two children, Margaret Crawford and Thomas Kennedy, Jr. (the first settler of Covington, Kentucky)."

And a bit more:

"Hannah Kennedy, daughter of Dinah and Thomas, married William Porter about 1793. She started on a visit to Penn. was followed by Wm. Porter and they were married probably at Limestone, Ky., now Maysville. Thomas Kennedy Porter (born Feb. 19, 1801) was their child.(and the father of James Davis Porter)"

Ms. Krout's family sketch is extensive and in some places, hard to follow. These old tales about who had who can become tedious. Believe me. I enjoy the real life stories of the places the people called home--like The Old Stone House. Here's what M.H. Krout said:

"Thomas Kennedy, Jr. (and) his wife, Dinah, and their five children came down the Ohio River, and landed at the mouth of the Licking River, where the city of Covington (Kentucky) now stands, May 1791. There was then standing a small cabin of some hunters. Rob Kyle and his wife Sallie Piersal and William Porter were in company with them. The Stone House in Covington known as the Kennedy House and which is still in possession of the descendents of Thos. Kennedy, was commenced by him in 1795 and not completed until 1802, but was occupied several years before..."

Now we know exactly how James Davis Porter entered the trail. Right? Sure. More on the Old Stone House and James D. Porter in the upcoming posts.

Moving Along

Before leaving Martha Dandridge Bibb, I applaud her pioneer efforts for working women. In “the box”, I found several small booklets entitled, “Association for Aiding Working Women and the Helpless”, of which M.D.B. was a Trustee. The Association was organized in 1881 in Montgomery and according to their Constitution--

“the object of the Association shall be to provide a home for Working Women and the Helpless in which they can obtain comfortable rooms to aid them in obtaining, work, so that they may be able to make a support for themselves and their children—to care for them in sickness, and to use every means to help them to help themselves.”

Martha Dandridge Bibb can rest on her laurels.

Introducing a new set of characters:

My other 2nd Great-Great-Grandmother

Susanna Eliza Dunlap Porter

June 17, 1832 - November 5, 1914
and her husband

Governor James Davis Porter
1828 – 1912

Governor Porter has been mentioned, but not properly introduced, nor has his wife, nor have the paths from Kentucky and Tennessee.

Enter here those paths. James Davis Porter of Paris, Tennessee, and Susanna Eliza Dunlap married June, 1851. She was the daughter of John Henry Dunlap and Marietta Beauchamp Dunlap also of Paris, Tennessee. Governor Porter’s wife was affectionately called “Sue” by him and perhaps others but I have no record of that. Her ancestors, the Dunlaps, were among the earliest settlers in Tennessee, and the founding settlers of Knoxville. James D. Porter’s family, the Kennedys, were the founding settlers of Covington, Kentucky, originally called Kennedy Landing or Kennedy’s Ferry until 1815, and the builders of the historic Old Stone House.

According to a newspaper clipping, tradition says that while visiting in the area, Harriet Beecher Stowe stayed with the Kennedys at the Old Stone House and while there, wrote several chapters of “Uncle Tom’s Cabin”.

Next post, some of their correspondence.