Jones Children, Rock Springs School, Harrison, Boone County, Arkansas, About 1894

Dating the ages of the Rock Springs School class photo.
If Dad’s (Charles) age is correct here, then the picture was most likely taken in 1894, maybe 1893.

Three Jones brothers are standing together in the back row. Beginning with Charles,(2nd from left), age 11 or 12, next to him is older brother Samuel, age 15 or 16, and then Albert, about age 10 or 11..

Sister Esther was three years older than Sam making her about 19 at the time of the picture.  If she is there I sense that she might be fourth from the right in the back row due only to the shape of her face which is mindful of her older sister Mary Lou reflected in a later family photo.  If I have the photo dated but one year earlier, 1893, then Esther would have been 18 and probably still in school.



The two girls cropped from near the center of the picture are most likely Martha Elizabeth, about age 8, on the left with sister Pearl, about age 6, next to her.  This is only an educated guess since the two have dresses of the same patterned material meaning they are most likely from the same family and the age difference of the two is about right in the photo.  I see a strong resemblance to Pearl and somewhat less in the face of Martha.

Grady, Eula and Ruth would have been younger than six and most likely not in school at all.  However the front row has some rather young children present so it is possible that some of the younger family members were present.  I can't recognize any strong facial features within the younger children however.  Ruth was born the year of this picture, 1894, Grady would have been about 4 years old and Eula about 2 years.  It is possible that Grady may be present but I am doubtful at this point.  If I were to hazard a guess, if any, Grady might be fifth from the left in the front row but I really have no confidence in that at all.

Judge Alfred Hines Jones of Charleston

Alfred Hines Jones, about 1920

It seems that our grandfather, Alfred Hines Jones was a judge of some sort in his new home in Washington State after relocating with all his children to Charleston, Kitsap County Washington in 1912.  These days of course Charleston is an incorporated part of Bremerton but in the early 1900’s Charleston on the west side of the present day Bremerton was a distinct and separate municipal entity.

His obituary in the Bremerton paper on the day of his death March 3, 1922 states he served three years as a police judge in Charleston sometime between his arrival in the Bremerton area up until his death.  Just what years he was in that position is yet to be determined.

Our grandfather had finally left Arkansas behind in 1912 after liquidating his Arkansas holdings and moved on to Washington State in order to be with his children in his later years. Those children still living with him in Harrison were his daughters Eula and Ruth, sons Albert and Bill and granddaughter May Rutledge and assumedly this group made the trip to Washington together.  Already in Washington State were his sons Samuel and Charles.  Samuel can be found in Charleston in the 1910 census but Charles is yet to be located.  My memory is that Dad often said he arrived in Bremerton in 1909 which leads me to believe he was still there one year later.  Since he was in bridge construction for many years he very well could have been anywhere in the Northwest on a construction site and was simply overlooked in that census year.  Two years later Charles married Pearl Baker in Almira, Washington where her family resided suggesting to me that he truly was in the state in 1910.

Bremerton Searchlight 1922

      

                                            

                       Bremerton Sun, 1947

  























The following is taken from an e-mail to Charles F. Jones Jr. some time back where I explained what was found in the Kitsap County City directories:

“I just finished looking at Microfilm copies of all Bremerton and Kitsap County city directories covering the years 1909-1934.  I was just curious to see which Jones family members were living where and when.

A.H. Jones first appears in 1913 and his last entry is 1921 which was just a year before his death.  It's interesting to note that over the years much of his family lived with him off and on, even Dad and his first wife Pearl appear to be living with him in 1916.  The house address isn't given, it's just described as Naval Ave, corner of 4th or near 4th.

The directories listed city officials for Charleston and I never did see A.H. Jones listed as a judge.  I assumed that maybe he was a Justice of the Peace which were also listed.  Maybe he was something other than a JP.  The directories of course aren't all that accurate I am sure……………….”

So at this point I would like to bring to the record another facet of this story and it goes back to Arkansas in the period just preceding the families final departure from Boone County.  It is the record of the appointment of Alfred Hines Jones as a Justice of the Peace in Boone County, Jackson Township, Arkansas, in 1898, the location of the Arkansas origins of the Jones family.  This is the very area that A.H. Jones settled in shortly after the death of his father Samuel Jones in Gordon County Georgia in 1870. 

The Arkansas document above was provided to me by one Nancy Hicks, of the Atlanta, Georgia area, a valid descendent in our overall Jones line, during an internet e-mail exchange of several weeks in early 2011.  She really is very knowledgeable of the early family origins and is the collaborator with one Kristin Ingram Johnson recently at one time residing in the State of Oregon.  Kristin posted her knowledge of the family origins to the internet in the early 2000’s and fortunately I was able to download her data and I have used it as my baseline for the Jones family.  Kristin no longer shares that data online and I am grateful to her for all efforts in the past and I attribute her in a large part of many of the earliest mentions of Jones ancestors in my expanded database.  Much of what Kristin published was furnished by Nancy Hicks some ten years ago when as Nancy Hicks confirmed they collaborated on the overall data. 

I was eventually able to come across Nancy Hicks in 2011 simply thru Google searches.  Kristin had mentioned the help of Nancy within some of her source details and as internet search capabilities improved over the years it was eventually quite easy to make contact with Nancy.

My question at this point is just how accurate is the statement regarding A.H. Jones stating that he had been an early police judge?   I do wonder however after searching though early Charleston City Directories, was the statement found in his obituary an exaggeration of his early Arkansas position or did he truly preside as a municipal judge of some sort in Charleston and perhaps he acquired that position based on his Arkansas experiences? 

Interesting to speculate but until a thorough search of Kitsap County records can be achieved we may never really know the accuracy of the fact.

The obituary itself has errors in it that makes me wonder just how knowledgeable was the person providing the facts of the man’s life.  The newspaper article states he was born in Calhoun County, Georgia but it is well assumed he was born in Gilmer County.  The two counties are some distance apart and Calhoun County has no mention in any other early family records.  The obituary also mentions he came to Arkansas with Mrs. Jones when in fact he never married previous to his migration to Arkansas.  His first marriage was to Elizabeth Johnson in 1872 in Boone County a year or two after his arrival there.

Perhaps someday someone will answer the question by completing a search of all the early Kitsap County records and determine the accuracy of the statement in his obituary.

I can only conclude that I have no doubt that our grandfather was a Charleston Police Judge but at this point I have found no real documentation to either prove or disprove the statement.  I do believe he very likely did serve in such a position.  However I just want to suggest the possibility that if he did serve as a judge that perhaps his Justice Of The Peace experience in Arkansas may have been a factor in his being appointed to the position in Charleston.  Another possibility is that someone writing the obituary took license to extrapolate the facts to the point that described his history in Charleston as an exaggeration of the facts.  Time will tell once the actual County Records are accessed.

Examining Possible Relationships From Church Records, Nelson and Chatham, Northumberland County, New Brunswick Canada / Marriages of Catherine and Mary McGinnis, Our Great-Grandaunts / Also the Ferguson Connection

It has proved impossible to date to find any data or method to really define where any of our Irish ancestors resided in the home country. Someday that may change but as of now the only records of any kind for either the Donahue’s or the McGinnis families can only be found in North American records beginning around the mid 19th century.  Finding even these records has proven out to be a significant find for me personally.  This is an attempt to present some sort of a lasting record regarding what we know so far.  Again this is an attempt to piece together a few facts and provide some sort of an explanation for others someday to expand on as other records are found about the family.  I do not consider this as proof of anything, only my assessment of the events.

With the McGinnis family, the earliest surviving documents to be found during my searches are to be found in the Catholic parish records of Eastern Canada.  These records are found on microfilm and published by the Drouin Genealogical Institute of Quebec.  This storehouse of information is priceless and it’s origin is as described from a posting here in June of 2009:

“The Drouin Genealogical Institute of Quebec took on the task of microfilming all the church records of the various Catholic parishes administered out of Quebec City which is a considerable amount of records. The area involved in the task essentially covered every parish in the provinces of Quebec, Prince Edward Island, New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, all under the auspices of the presiding Archbishop or Cardinal residing in Quebec City or Montreal. The effort begun in the 1940's was primarily meant to record French genealogy records but as is evident the task encompassed all parishes, French or English speaking. Since the Maritime Provinces, unlike Quebec of course, are primarily English speaking with many sizeable pockets of French culture it was determined that all records would be filmed in order to capture the data of all the French families”.

Searching through these records the possible existence of other early McGinnis family members to Canada began to surface, namely the names of two likely sisters of our McGinnis Patriarch, John McGinnis Sr.  John immigrated to Canada in 1836 and died in Chatham, New Brunswick in 1860 leaving behind his second wife Margaret McCarron and six children, one of which was James McGinnis Sr., our grandfather.  The two possible sisters can only be proven through making associations recorded in the parish records which is not a foolproof method but it the only process available due to the lack of civil records.

The two possible sisters are Mary and Catherine McGinnis.  Those two names combined as Mary Catherine were passed on to two succeeding generations of the family of Hugh and Catherine McGinnis.  Hugh of course was a brother of our grandfather James, both of the surviving six children of John Sr.  This is not a definite proof of the existence of the two possible sisters of John Sr. since these are both such common names in the Irish tradition of naming children.  But it is something to be considered when attempting to piece all this together.

The most direct proof that might apply then are in the parish records of two churches, St. Patrick’s in the small community of Nelson and St. Michael’s in Chatham, the two small towns being but ten miles apart.  St. Patrick’s was established about 1811 and St. Michael’s in 1839.  Keep in mind an extremely confusing issue comes to play here in that a McInnis and a McGinnis came together in marriage making the records somewhat mind boggling to read through at times.  Keeping the names straight while attempting to absorb the events and dates has proved out to be very challenging at times.

The following events have been found in the microfilm records but they are not all the entries regarding the family available. I only include those events that I feel tend to validate the existence of the two sisters of John McGinnis Sr.  The events and the witnesses are the key to this puzzle.  The names of Mary and a sister Catherine intertwine in important family events over a period of many years.  It may only be circumstantial on the surface but personally I do believe it is highly probable that the two sisters did exist.

1. According to the 1850 census of Chatham an entry states that John McGinnis Sr. entered Canada in 1836.  This is my beginning point for our McGinnis family.
2. An entry in the parish record of November 18, 1839 in St. Patrick's parish in nearby Nelson records the marriage of one Andrew McInnis and Catherine McGinnis.  At this point we might only assume this is a sister of John Sr. for one John McGinnis is a witness.  It is still not established that this is the same John McGinnis that entered Canada in 1836 nor that John and Catherine in the record are brother and sister.  This also begins the task of attempting to keep the two surnames, McInnis (sometimes spelled McInnes) and McGinnis straight in the mind to keep the spellings from confusing the issue.  McInnis and it’s variants are of Scotch descent and of course McGinnis is of Irish origin.
3. The next date of interest in December 27, 1840 when at St. Michael’s parish in Chatham, Andrew McInnis and Catherine McGinnis baptized their first child John McInnis.  Witnesses were John McGinnis and Mary McGinnis.  We still cannot say for sure that this is the same John McGinnis that entered Canada in 1836.  It is reasonable to assume though that the parents of the child are the same that married about a year earlier in Nelson.  What is worth considering here is that one John McGinnis was a witness at both events suggesting that it is the same person in both instances.  The record spells the parents name as McGinnis and I suggest that the priest was in a hurry and did not record the surname of McInnis correctly.  These records were sometimes put together days if not weeks after the actual events providing room for error as the priest might sometimes attempt to bring his records up to date from memory only.  Spelling of surnames was really rather haphazard at times regardless of when the record was entered which is easy to see when looking through many microfilm pages.
4. On January 30, 1845 a marriage record is entered in St. Michael’s parish in Chatham between John Ferguson and Mary McGinnis.  This marriage is what establishes the relationship of Mary Agnes McGinnis and Mary Mills as second cousins.  It was well known in our family that the two, our mother Mary Agnes and Mary Mills, were cousins and in order for this to be a fact this marriage establishes that John Ferguson married a McGinnis of our line, a sister of John McGinnis Sr. in all likelihood. It is well known that John Ferguson was the grandfather of Mary Mills and he was married to Mary McGinnis and for the cousin relationship to be established Mary McGinnis, the grandmother of Mary Mills, had to be of our McGinnis line.  This works out to establish that an unknown McGinnis in Ireland, the father of John McGinnis Sr.  and his sister Mary McGinnis Ferguson, was a great-grandfather to both of these cousins.  Note: this marriage was entered in the records as both January 30 and September 30, 1845.  I have accepted the earlier date for now due to date of birth of the first child of the marriage, Robert, in late December 1845.
5. Time goes by and the next date of interest in the church records is December 21, 1845 when Robert Ferguson the first child of John Ferguson and wife Mary McGinnis was baptized.  This child later becomes the uncle of Mary Mills and the man that established his farm in Florence next to James McGinnis.  The two were first cousins based on the unknown McGinnis patriarch in Ireland.  Both men settling next to one another to live out their lives adds to the credibility of the relationship of the two families.  Robert never did marry but his sister Catherine married Luke Mills and were the parents of Mary and Charlie Mills.
6. On September 15, 1847, our grandfather James McGinnis, first child of John McGinnis Sr.and Margaret McCarron, was baptized. The godparents were one John McCarron and Mary Ferguson. If the tradition of naming relatives as godparents holds true then assumedly Mary (McGinnis) Ferguson is a relative. John McCarron is a mystery but if tradition is followed here then he might be a brother or cousin of the mother, Margaret McCarron. John McCarron disappears from all records after this event.
7. John McGinnis Jr., the second child of John McGinnis Sr. and Margaret McCarron, was baptized on August 26, 1849.  The godparents were Andrew and Catherine McInnes.  Again, if tradition is followed then the godparents were relatives.  This adds substance to the relationship of Catherine as a probable sister of John McGinnis Sr.
8. On March 25, 1850 the fifth and last child of Andrew McInnis and wife Catherine McGinnis was baptized.  The godparents were John Ferguson and Margaret McCarron.  This brings family in as godparents as John Ferguson is married to Mary McGinnis and Margaret McCarron was the wife of John McGinnis Sr.

Personally I feel the intertwining of all these people within just these family events is more than telling, it is really rather substantial proof but based on circumstances only.  There are no definite records uncovered to date that really state factually that John McGinnis Sr., Catherine McGinnis McInnis and Mary McGinnis Ferguson were siblings.  The events and the names above tend to provide strong credence however and until more records are found someday this is what I consider my reasonable assessment of the relationships.

One issue remains to be examined and it may be very important and that is to examine the entry dates to Canada of the two sisters, Mary and Catherine, as well as their year of birth.  It very well may work out that the sisters immigrated before their brother John McGinnis and these facts might cast a different light on what I have presented here.

To summarize…………….

Credibility of Catherine McGinnis are found in items 2, 3, 7 & 8

Credibility of Mary McGinnis are found in items 3, 4, 5 & 6

I apologize if this really belabors the issue and only tends to present a confusing explanation of my take on all this.  To me it is all rather clear and that I suppose is because I have pored over these records so many times and as a result much of it is committed to memory.  Not everyone will see it as I do but do give it time.  It very well may eventually make sense, at least that is my hope.

Our Lady Of Good Hope, Seattle’s First Catholic Church and the Parish of the Newly Arrived McGinnis Family

1867 Rev. Francis X. Prefontaine founded Our Lady of Good Help, the first Catholic Church in Seattle

Our Lady of Good Help was used by Bishop O'Dea as a pro-cathedral in 1903. As Seattle's downtown became more crowded, in 1905 the church was demolished and rebuilt on a new site. In 1912 it was closed as a parish church because of its close proximity to the new St. James Cathedral, and was instead included as part of the Cathedral parish. Although the original building is gone, Our Lady of Good Help is still remembered as the first Catholic Church in Seattle.

The funeral service for our great-grandmother Margaret McGinnis on Tuesday December 29, 1903, some five days following her death, was at Seattle’s first Catholic Church, Our Lady of Good Help, at 4^th and Washington Street, on the eastern fringes of the current Pioneer Square district. At the time of her death the church served the faithful towards the Southern end of downtown Seattle. Prefontaine Place, a street in downtown Seattle was obviously named after the priest that built the church. The street cuts a diagonal swath through a block at the south end of Third Ave that probably lies directly across the very property of the original church.

The first known address for any of the McGinnis clan in Seattle was in the 1894-1895 Seattle Directory and the home of Patrick Fitzpatrick and his wife Sarah McGinnis at  918 Weller Street. The address is located on the west fringe of what is now known as Seattle’s International District more commonly known as China Town.   This was about a half mile thru the winding streets of Seattle from the families Parish Church.  Living with them was Sarah’s mother Margaret McGinnis, our great grandmother.  This essentially was at the southwest base of what is now known as First Hill.  Seattle’s Harborview or King county Hospital lies at the top of the hill by perhaps a quarter of a mile directly to the north of the McGinnis family original location.

Margaret’s death certificate some nine years after her first known address records her address as 718 Weller Street.  The similarities of these two locations, but two blocks apart, may simply be an error, most likely on the death certificate.

Descendants of Samuel Moulder & Nancy Luster

For some ten years now since diving into family history I have been searching for a photo of our grandmother Martha Elizabeth Moulder. Sadly after rummaging through all the family photos left behind by Mom and Dad no photo of her ever emerged from that vast collection.

As time went by and various family histories and details began to become more and more available on the internet I thought surely some photo would appear from out of nowhere in some family tree or history. However that has not happened either.

When searching for data on this family the spelling of the Moulder surname takes on at least two different spellings. Some early family members adapted the spelling as Molder and there may be even more variations. I always defer to the earliest found version as Moulder.

Martha Elizabeth Moulder was but one of fifteen children of Samuel and Nancy Moulder and all having been born in Tennessee before the family migrated west to Arkansas. That happened sometime between 1860 and 1870 as revealed in census data. Martha would have been between the age of ten and twenty. One might surmise that the Civil War may have played a part in the motivation behind the family migration for it was a period of many people moving out of the old South to find better opportunities elsewhere. Maybe the period of reconstruction that began immediately after the war forced the Moulder family to move but that is only conjecture for many families lost all they had and had but little choice to move on to other areas less influenced by the War.

I often thought that with fifteen children in the family and probably many cousins, uncles and aunts perhaps also with large descending families that surely a photo of our grandmother would absolutely surface in these modern times. But alas nothing has emerged as of now. However pictures of some of her siblings have been submitted to internet sources and I have been able to find and copy some of them. It seems that this will have to do for now and at least we might begin to imagine what Martha Elizabeth Moulder Jones may have looked like. I am generating an image of my own over time and every one reading this will surely begin to form their own version of her appearance.

So wonder on and hopefully over time a real image of her will come to light and we can all cease to wonder. But for now, this is as good as it gets. Maybe some distant cousin, of which there is a multitude of currently, will come across this in some internet search and reward us all with a photo of our grandmother. I can only hope.

The following descriptions are what is known of all the fifteen family members and it really isn’t much but the photos are included here. Please excuse the poor quality of some for they may have been cropped and enlarged from a larger family group photo which were of poor quality to begin with.


Descendants of Samuel Moulder and Nancy Luster
(No pictures have been found of either of these parents)
Samuel Moulder
Born: 16 October 1801, Carthage, Warren County, Tennessee
Died: 8 October 1888, Denver, Carroll, Arkansas
Buried: Green Forest Cemetery, Denver, Carroll County, Arkansas

Nancy Luster
Born: 1811, Kentucky
Died: 1899, Denver, Carroll County, Arkansas
Buried: Green Forest Cemetery, Denver, Carroll County, Arkansas
Records state burial of both the parents in Green Forest Cemetery but the graves have been lost.

Children in order of birth:
Mary Jane Moulder (Dial)
Born: 8 May 1833, Tennessee,
Died: 28 March 1911, Clayton, Payne County, Oklahoma





Elizabeth Moulder (Smith)
Born: 1835, Tennessee
Died: 20 December 1920, Barren, Kentucky
Buried: Payne Cemetery, Thompkinsville,
Monroe County, Kentucky

William Madison Moulder
(No photo found)
Born: 1836, McMinnville, Warren County, Tennessee
Died: 24 November 1927, Tennessee
Buried: Grave not located

Jeremiah Moulder
(No photo found)
Born: 1838, Warren County, Tennessee
Died: 21 May 1881
Buried: Grave not located

Alexander Moulder
Born: 1 July 1839, McMinnville, Warren County, Tennessee
Died: 1900, Bell, Texas
Buried: Grave not located




Jonathan Tipton Moulder
(No photo found)
Born: About 1841, Warren County., Tennessee
Died: 14 July 1889, Stone County, Missouri
Buried: Grave not located


Sarah Moulder (Martin)
Born: 20 December 1842, Warren County, Tennessee
Died: 9 March 1922, Sherman, Grayson County, Texas
Buried: Grave not located




Samuel Houston Moulder
Born: 27 January 1844, McMinnville, Warren County, Tennessee
Died: 27 October 1906, Denver, Carroll County, Arkansas
Buried: Denver Cemetery, Carroll County, Arkansas
Grave photo not posted online. Records state
he was buried in this cemetery but grave appears to
be a lost grave.

Pleasant Andrew Moulder
(No photo found)
Born: 7 November 1845, McMinnville, Warren County, Tennessee
Died: 3 March 1895, Denver, Carroll County, Arkansas
Buried: Grave not located

Margaret A. Moulder (Owens)
Born: May 1847, McMinnville, Warren County, Tennessee
Died: 12 May 1924, Crittenden, Cherokee County, Oklahoma
Buried: Grave not located



Amanda Melvina Moulder (Roark)
Born: 28 July 1811 December 1848, McMinnville, Warren County, Tennessee
Died: 12 May 1924, Quay County, New Mexico
Buried: Tucumcari, New Mexico
Grave photo not posted online.  Grave may be lost




Martha Elizabeth Moulder
Born: 28 July 1850, McMinnville, Warren County, Tennessee
Died: 7 August 1894, Harrison, Boone County, Arkansas
Buried: Denning Cemetery, Boone County, Arkansas




Ferdinand Moulder
Born: 13 February 1852, McMinnville, Warren County, Tennessee
Died: 6 March 1930
Buried: Derden Cemetery, Hill County, Texas
May be a lost grave



Henry Moulder (Molder)
Born: 22 March 1854, McMinnville, Warren County, Tennessee
Died: 14 April 1909, Fort Worth, Tarrant County, Texas
Buried: Oakwood Cemetery, Ft. Worth, Tarrant County, Texas


Rollin Moulder
(No photo found)
Born: 4 May 1857, McMinnville, Warren County, Tennessee
Died: 8 August 1939, Wichita Falls, Wichita County, Texas
Buried: Old Electra Cemetery, Electra, Wichita County, Texas
No grave photo posted online. May be a lost grave

.

Georgia Connections

One might think that I tend to dwell on the "seedy or unseemly" side of our family history, but it is not intentional I can assure you and I certainly look at what I present here as far from seedy, it is just how people had to survive during difficult times. What is detailed here and an affair of another Willis Jones relative in Texas do tend to paint an unfair picture of what our ancestral family has experienced over time but I just find the stories interesting and worthy of sharing.  I tend to look at any story coming out of the past regarding all branches of the family as just contributing to the overall story fabric of the family regardless of any remote attachment one might feel. Life is what it is and we certainly have no control of what has happened in the past. Some might find this meaningless but some time in the future others might feel very much otherwise. The goal from my perspective is to find and record as much as I possibly can, and the attached story is something that needs to be saved and explained.

The real objective of this posting is to attempt to relate that the Jones family still has roots remaining in Georgia and that not all happened, began and ended with our family line originating in Arkansas with nothing else known of even earlier beginnings.  Over time we very well may be able to someday make direct connections with other remote lines in North Carolina.  Surely they are there, but to find the actual proof will take time.

The individual Jones distant relative mentioned in the attached newspaper article from the Atlanta Constitution newspaper of February of 1921 happens to be a second cousin to Charles F. Jones Sr., and through that connection certainly a shirt tail relative to all his descendants. The man is Wills A. Jones from the line of Jones's that remained in North Georgia after the Civil War, in the Northeast part of the State near the South Carolina border where first substantial documentation of our ancestors migrations can be found. Much of that portion of the State was carved out of the former lands of the Cherokee Indians after their unjust removal from their ancestral territory to Oklahoma in the first half of the nineteenth century. Our Jones family members of the time witnessed and some even participated to some degree in that tragic story now labeled as the "Trail of Tears" that occurred at the insistence of President Andrew Jackson and his administration.









Just what the level of contact between relatives residing in Georgia, Texas and Arkansas was at the time is not really known but some contact was obviously maintained.  One or two family photos taken of our Arkansas Jones family that survived within the belongings of our line were also found in the belongings of some of the Georgia Jones’s and were shared with me proving that they did correspond and were exchanging family photos during the latter part of the 1800’s.

The following photo was found in the old family suitcase filled with pictures from both sides of the family.  The photo is of Alfred Hines Jones and his brother Samuel Tate Jones, both living in the Harrison, Arkansas area when the photo was taken probably in the 1870 –1880 time period.  This very same photo was forwarded to me by one Nancy Hicks of Atlanta and was passed on down thru her family or other North Georgia Jones descendants. 







Adding to our obvious connections to other North Georgia Jones family descendants the following photo of the Alfred Hines Jones family of Harrison, Arkansas was also passed on down thru some vague but obviously family members and also shared with me by Nancy Hicks.  This photo did not survive within our cache of photos.  Based on the youngest child Ruth having been born in 1894 the year is probably 1895 – 1896.  The oldest daughter Mary Lou in the back row was probably the surrogate mother to the young children since her step-mother, Martha Elizabeth Moulder, second wife of A.H. Jones had died shortly after the birth of Ruth in 1894.  The other stepdaughter, Esther Almira Jones had married and left Harrison in early 1895.  She died quite young in Renton, Washington in 1901, apparently the very first member of the family to step foot in Puget Sound country.







The given name Willis in the Jones line extends into lines of three Jones brothers that migrated into Georgia in the early 1800’s from the Northwestern part of South Carolina in present day Anderson County, very near the Georgia border.  There was a total of five brothers known of and only the three, Samuel, William and John Calvin Jones have left any trace of their existence that can be followed up to current times.  The migrations of the times seemed to be of rather short distances as men and families would establish in new areas and raise their families.  Our particular ancestor, one of the three brothers, Samuel Jones, moved farther west in Georgia two more times in his life to the far western side of the State.  One brother, William and his descendants remained in place, in what is now Lumpkin County, Georgia and brother John Calvin is a difficult migration story to follow but for the most part after some confusing movements prior to and during the Civil War (he was of Northern sympathies) he and his descendants ended up in Gordon County, Georgia to the Northwest of Atlanta.  Gordon County is where our Great Grandfather Samuel died in 1870 where he had settled after the Civil War following the loss of his land further North in Georgia near the Chattanooga Battlefield. 

But the Willis Jones focused on in the attached newspaper article is from the area of original family settling, the Northeast part of the state where it seems there are still distant relatives well established there even today.  At this point I cannot be certain if the Jones surname has survived to current generations however, but through marriages the area is probably well represented with various descendants.  As the article suggests the area was a popular area for the making of moonshine liquor over the years and to some degree it may be so even today.  But this Willis Jones died protecting his source of income which many families in the area did as well in order to support their families when the times demanded such activity.

I made a brief internet contact two years ago with a descendant in the Atlanta area that had studied and researched the Jones line quite extensively and she is the one that discovered the connection of the current descendants back to the original three brothers.  She diligently followed up on many sources in Georgia and South Carolina and eventually was able to tie her ancestor John Calvin’s line in Gordon County to William and his descendants in Lumpkin County.  This connection then easily led to the connection to our Samuel Jones and what can now be found online primarily at Ancestry.com presents some fairly well documented family lines that we most certainly are connected to.  This researcher hinted at the involvement in the  moonshine business of some Jones descendants over time and just recently another descendant found and posted the attached article to Ancestry.com and what is attached here is copied from that posting.  This tends to definitely prove out what the lady had hinted at in some of our correspondence.

But the story is probably not the only such story to come out of that part of Georgia but it is definitely part of the fabric of what I try to pursue.

Another McGinnis Timeline

Susannah Swingle, 3rd Great-Grandmother

 

If you are ever in the vicinity of Knoxville, Tennessee

and you are in the mood for visiting the graves of any of your ancestors, well just wander a bit north of there to the vicinity of Maynardville, in Union County and then commence a few miles further north of that hamlet to the vicinity of Pinhook which is just a tiny bit to the west of Lickskillet.  You then are very close to an old cemetery, seemingly on private land today, by the name of Butcher Cemetery.  I suppose it got that name from someone by the name of or the occupation of Butcher.  Not a pressing issue to sort that out at the moment.  Just be assured that if you are on Butcher Hollow Road and just a tad bit south of Pinhook well then you are really close to the graves of two of your distant ancestors, that of one John Mohlar, commonly spelled Moulder today by all the descendants, and his wife, Susannah Swingle.  Somehow and someplace along the line the spelling of the surname was adapted in lieu of a much more difficult spelling of Schwaengeler as revealed by her family heritage somehow ferreted out by someone of very good genealogical sources.  How the spelling change came about is probably rather obvious for a Swiss born young lady finding herself in a land of “Bloody English” or Irish.  

 

 

The internet is a fascinating place these days.  A brief description for John Moulder’s wife, Susannah, that has trickled down from various family genealogical sources, reveals something of her beginnings and also the place of burial for her and her husband.  A little scrambling around on the internet reveals a picture of their grave as well as a somewhat obscure satellite view of the very cemetery where they were laid to rest between 1810 and 1833 .  Another very important web source for family history research also provides pictures of their graves as they are today. 

 

 

Vicinity of Butcher Cemetery,

Union County, North Tennessee

 

 

 

Current Memorial Markers

John (Moulder) Mohlar 1733-1810

and his wife

Susannah Swingle 1733-1833

 

It Wasn’t Always Easy Coming to America-  A Tale Worth Noting-

Five generations back in our family tree one finds a Susannah Swingle, of Swiss birth, to be our 3rd Great-Grandmother.  Sometimes it is difficult to relate to such a distant relationship but suffice it to say we all carry some sort of a genetic path that can be scientifically traced directly back to her and or her husband.  Susannah’s life spanned approximately 100 years, stated in a family history as 1733-1833.  Those years may be approximate but they do establish the background period of her lifespan.

The woman has a history that the current generations would have difficulty comprehending but I do find a portion of it interesting and worth posting here in order to highlight how difficult times were for our ancestors so many generations ago. 

The power of the internet and the growing hobby of current generations capturing their past from a massive amount of genealogical information accumulating in thousands of web-sites available to anyone interested has brought forth information pertaining to our ancestral line worth noting and reflecting on.  Specifically any small snippet of information regarding ancestors I freely copy and examine as best as possible to determine authenticity.  It isn’t an official authentication by any means but a system of patience and searching for others also claiming the same information.  Over time it is possible to obtain a level of confidence in data based on just how persistent the information is.  If it passes a test of time after being placed on the internet and is not disputed or corrected by others, over time the authenticity begins to take hold.  Such is the case for the following small fact copied from a volume of history of the Moulder family published within the past 50 years or so and seemingly validated by a very large amount of family historians following the Moulder family.  In short we are part of a countless list of Moulder descendants all sharing the same basic data and a very large number of them are presently active on the web. 

What follows is a description of some minor history of this ancestor, Susannah Swingle, that has passed the test of time and I consider it valid enough to want to post it for others to contemplate.  I find it rather interesting.

Copied from Ancestry.com, 10 June 2011:

MOULDER'S RECORD OF THE MOULDER FAMILY OF AMERICA,

written and published by George Chester Moulder; Lebanon, Missouri; 1933. FHLC Microfiche #6017757.

Introduction
"...preparation of this book would not have been possible without the...cooperation of George B. Moulder of Nashville, Tenn, and the many other descendants of the Moulder family.

"We start this work with the birth of John Moulder 1733, he came to America about 1740 or 1750, with his brothers Lewis and Valentine, first settling near Philadelphia, Pa. His wife was Susannah (Susa) Swingle.

She and her sister when children were decoyed into a ship and brought across the Ocean, and she was sold to John Moulder for her passage. She could shoulder a two bushel bag of wheat and she had no trouble in catching and overpowering her husband John, when he came home intoxicated and un-ruly.

John emigrated from Pennsylvania with his brother Valentine and settled in Rowan County, North Carolina, before the Revolutionary War. Here raised a family of eight children all whom married there. John sold his farm in Rowan County, North Carolina to Vincent Gardner in 1795, and moved with his son Felta to Granger (now Union) County, Tenn., he died May 17 1810. His grave is located on what is now the Jesse Butcher farm three miles North of Maynardsville, Union County, Tenn., gravestone and markers well preserved. His wife Susannah died in 1833. She is buried by her husband John. Their descendants are listed through the following pages. (Geo. C. Moulder)"

Another description of the fate of the Swingle sisters from a Moulder family descendant:

From: "Nina Robertson" <ninaer@yahoo.com> 4-15-2002

It is said that Susannah "Susa" (wife of John) and her sister, when they were children in the "Old Country" were decoyed into a ship, locked up,brought to Philadelphia and sold "for their passage" to Lewis and John Moulder. The girls were properly raised on Henry (father of John and Lewis) Moulder's farm. Later, Lewis and John would legally marry them.

This was posted on Moulder GenForum 4/21/00 by Tonie Bedell, a descendant of John Moulder.

In times past it seems than not only were men kidnapped and forced into the crews of sailing ships, but it also appears that the practice at times involved children, kidnapped and sold as indentured servants.  Those were tragic times for many families I am sure.

The area where Susannah and her husband finally settled in Tennessee appears to be in the area of the TVA dam building activities of the 1930’s when viewed in satellite photos of today.  Here is another set of ancestors graves calling to me to someday search out to photograph and pay respects to.  Perhaps I will eventually.  At least it goes on the list of possible projects.

Sounds of the Night-

It was either Trains, Trucks, Cars, Dogs, Bulls, Cows, or the Familiar Noise from the Bridge, and then off to Sleep-

These are the sounds I heard when very young while falling asleep in the northeast corner, upstairs bedroom of the McGinnis farm house that I loved to visit each summer.  The small farm in Florence was maybe a half mile away from the rail tracks across the river to the north of us that ran between Vancouver, Canada and Seattle, and to points far south and east.  The nostalgia produced today here in Georgia whenever I hear the distant sound of a modern train in the evenings takes me directly back to those years of the late 1940's and early 50's.  Lying in my own bed these days I hear sounds of the modern day diesel trains moving north and south thru my small town, going to and fro from the northeast to Florida. When hearing the distant fading call of the modern air horn of the diesel engines I am reminded of the wonderful sounds of the whistles of the old steam engines, again moving north and south, but between Canada and all points south along the Pacific coast.

I loved my time on the Island of Florence back then.  What follows is but one narrow facet of my recall of those days and a meager effort to tap some very nostalgic feelings, the memories of sounds of the night ,and oh, how they have remained so vivid in my mind.
 
During the hot summer months this small farm house, built in the 1890's before insulation of houses became feasible and economical, the upstairs rooms of the house could become extremely uncomfortable when night descended.  The upstairs windows would be thrown wide open during the summer heat in hopes of capturing a bit of breeze to bring some sort of relief to a long uncomfortable day.

But when in the dark one settled finally into their bed for a night of sleep, the silence could become almost extreme, nearly sullen deadness of the air, until the sounds of the night would begin, sounds nearly ignored during the daylight hours.  But when a young mind is drifting off to sleep, the sounds would gradually grow in strength until you might hear a fish jump in the river or even a muskrat scoot itself down the river bank and enter the water with a near silent splash.  A young curiosity then would take over and all sounds became louder by the minute as one attempted to relate to just what was occurring outside in the darkness.  Safety demanded facts.  Not knowing what a sound really was might send one off on a journey of unnecessary anxiety and mental anguish.  Knowing exactly what was heard did bring comfort and a feeling of safety.  Realizing we were not under attack by strange animals or mean looking criminals carrying daggers was always a good thing to know.  Sleep would then come on very peacefully once all the sounds were sorted out, explained and any new strange sounds cataloged for future reference and identification. 

One thing that always had me frightened was the winged bats of the evening.  One early but dark evening in particular, while outside with the adults, one small tiny bat swooped by me with a near silent flutter of it wings and quickly whisked off into the darkness.  “What might that be” and I was told it was a bat.  Knowing at the time that the most dreaded fear of a bat was to have it alight in one’s hair for it would become entangled and cause a great ruckus was something to be carefully avoided at all times.  Knowing this, it was added to my possible sounds of the night, and due to an over active imagination, what could be a worse possible scenario than a bat entering the house through an open window and causing havoc.  That possibility was always near the top of the list to be something to always watch for.  Alas no bats entered, lucky for them, more lucky for me though.

The trains of the time were still steam driven and at night their sounds, while on their journey north or south could disrupt the evening darkness but there was safety in knowing the tracks were somewhat distant.  Regardless of how the breezes might be carrying the sound of the wheels on the tracks, and the blasting of the steam whistle to announce the approach to those of interest in East Stanwood, one could easily catalog this sound as a common occurrence and certainly not a threat to worry about.  Always on schedule and at a certain place the steam whistles would begin their lonesome wail.   It really was  such a unique and combined sound, the lonely, groaning sound of a giant mechanical struggle that only a steam engine distant in the night could create along with the whistling it emitted as if to warn one to stay away, there is danger.  Alas, there was no danger, but today it seems to have been a real mechanical struggle I was hearing, steel against steel, as if struggling to resist any human influence every mile of the way.  In recalling it now, it is so distant but yet distinct.  I suppose a pleasant, haunting memory would be a valid description of what it is to me personally today .

Another sound of the railroad that I am not sure is in use today and that is the loud explosive sound coming from what was called a railroad torpedo. This is something that might occur both day and night but it was sure to bring one from approaching deep sleep.

A description of the device as found recently on the internet……………….

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The following explanation and illustrations for the device are copied from an Internet Wiki page, http://www.thefullwiki.org/Detonator_(railway)

This illustration from an 1882 Leslie's Monthly portrays an engineer (fireman) finding a torpedo on the track.

                                   

A railway detonator (called a torpedo in North America) is a device used to make a loud sound as a warning signal to train drivers. The detonator is the size of a large coin with two lead straps, one on each side. The detonator is placed on the top of the rail and the straps are used to secure it. When the wheel of the train passes over, it explodes emitting a loud bang. It was invented in 1841 by English inventor Edward Alfred Cowper.

---

The sound was not an everyday or night occurrence but when it did occur it was very noticeable.  Obviously as with it’s common usage,  as a passing train was approaching East Stanwood from the south and there was reason to warn the approaching engine of a possible danger or at least to let an engineer know of something out of the ordinary was present just ahead an activated Torpedo would emit it’s explosive warning.  Day or night, due to our nearness to the tracks approaching East Stanwood, we would also be warned of something different present along the tracks.  Without ever knowing exactly what was happening the adults would explain it away as a way for track construction crews to caution the train engineers that there was probably some sort of work occurring along the tracks.  Since track work did not occur at night it was probably just a warning to slow down for repair equipment may be temporarily placed near the tracks and thus served as a notice for the train to proceed with caution.  But when the devices exploded there was no doubt what it was.  Again, another sound of the night I shall not forget.

I have to add that during the daylight hours sounds seemed far different than was noticeable of the same causes during the night.  As an example, the sound of the trains shuttling back and forth seemed different in daylight in that they did not interrupt ones activities or thought processes.  Difficult for me to explain exactly what the difference was back then but the trains could not be seen easily from our side of the river.  Occasionally and only if at the right place one might be able to get a glimpse of one passing by to the north but the tall trees and the brush on both banks of the river obscured the view but you knew they were there of course.  But to me, the sound of the trains coming and going were different at night.  The darkness seemed to always amplify the powerful sounds of a passing train. 


On occasion, one might hear the loud bray of a  bull confined to his small pen adjacent to the barn on the farm directly across the river from Uncle John's home, the home where Uncle John, his brothers Tom, Jim and Mother grew up.  Perhaps even a lowing call from a milk cow might come drifting across the still air, or a barking dog in the distance.  A barking dog with their warnings of the night was not all that usual, but the sound of the bull as I recall was far more usual.  The cows were usually quiet at night unless something was disturbing them, but for the most part all was peaceful at night for the several small herds in the vicinity.  Contented cows, and most of those I was familiar with were “Carnation Contented Cows”,  were good producers so their evenings were necessarily peaceful. 

The sound of milk cans being transferred from the milk stand at the road into the metal bed of the Carnation Dairy transport truck is another memory, but that is a sound of the daylight hours, and not to be dwelled on here.  Thousands and thousands of gallons of milk were placed at the road but a few feet from the front door of the house over the years.  I live far too much in the past, but that is my special weakness and I would not have it any other way.

Of course the house being situated next to the river road leading into Stanwood over the bridge just downstream would produce the noise of the traveling vehicles, trucks and cars going back and forth.  It is surprising how  the noise of tires traveling across the cement paved road from a distant approaching car would carry on the night air.  One could seemingly hear a car coming for miles depending on the direction of the night breeze.  But as evening slowly turned into night the road traffic became less and one could fall asleep quite easily.  But occasionally the tranquility would be gently disturbed but it was always just temporary.

As Mother explained though, it was somewhat different when she was growing up.  She would tell of the Indians in canoes, in a hurried pace, rowing downstream to Stanwood in the daylight hours, only to hear them come rowing back upstream much later in the night, in a very happy boisterous mood, singing quite loudly. Most likely a rather effective method to sober up I would suggest.   The sounds of Steamboats, of various sizes, in the river were common I am sure.  Inconceivable today at least to me.  These were the times and events that Mother experienced but I am sure so very difficult for anyone new to the area today to even conceive of and rightfully so.  But the river of the time was so different than it is today, even the main stream that was captured by Hatts Slough will never bear the importance the original river had to the early settlers.  It was a lifeline of commerce, up and downstream.  Goods coming up from Puget Sound, logs and crops coming back down.  That’s what it was and the sounds I heard in my youth were certainly far different than what the McGinnis families heard and even far more different during current times.

The bouncing of the loose planks at the center of the bridge when passed over by a moving vehicle was a most telling sound, both day and night, but most remakably so on a quiet night.  A period of absolute stillness followed by the warning from the bridge might awake one from a light sleep.  The tell-tale sound coming from the bridge was always a signal of an approaching vehicle.  Any vehicle crossing the bridge would reliably produce the distinct sound, a rather lonely sound in the middle of the night.  Every vehicle of any size crossing the river always produced a warning of it's approach created from the purposely placed loose timbers at the center of the bridge being jostled about.

Florence Bridge Under Construction

1908

It was a most distinctive tell-tale "Ker- Boom” followed immediately by a “Ka-Thunk” each time a vehicle passed over it. The deck timbers may have had to be loose in order to allow the bridge to rotate on it's center pier when required to be opened, removing the obstacle to river traffic and allow a boat to pass thru.  This procedure is something that ceased before my time as the river slowly lost it’s importance for navigation. It was not a drawbridge as the topographical maps state, it was on a swivel with a large steel encased concrete pier in the center of the river, allowing it to rotate and allow boat traffic to pass on either side of the center pier. it was such a narrow channel and to this day it’s difficult to imagine it ever provided enough room for any boat of any size to traverse. Of course the river began to silt up after the main current of the river was diverted to Hatt’s Slough and by the time I was aware of my surroundings the river had seen many seasons with each year depositing a little more silt with very little flow to carry it out to Puget Sound.

You could tell a vehicle was approaching from Stanwood by the sound. If the vehicle did not roll by the front of the house within a very few minutes it was assumed to be headed to farms down river. And the opposite was of course true if after a car or truck passed the house going down river on the route to Stanwood the sound of the loose bridge planks rumbling did not come thru the night soon.
I would go to sleep sometimes counting the minutes and seconds between the rumbling of the bridge planks and the passing of a vehicle in one direction or another. My young way of counting sheep perhaps, but more out of curiosity I believe, for I was the sort that tended to delve into minutia. One could almost determine someone traveling at a high speed just by noticing the period of time produced at the bridge and the corresponding sound of the vehicle passing the house.

The area of Florence remains an agricultural community today and since it all lies within the Stillaguamish River delta, it will probably always remain primarily dedicated to farming.  It really is not an area conducive to subdivisions and large housing developments.  For that reason in many respects what one might witness during a following of the seasons in Florence today, more than likely it probably remains much like it has always  been.  A farming community dedicated to the growing of crops that thrive in the rich soil deposited by the flooding river over many centuries.

Outside of the bridge noise, the sounds of the night may be very similar today only with the near musical tone of the trains steam whistles being replaced with the throaty blast of a modern air-horn.

The Crane Incident- The Flying Types, Not Mechanical……….. !

In Florence, about summer of 1950-

Probably the strangest event I have ever witnessed- 


Life along the river on a quiet summer night could be very peaceful.  The occasional sound of a passing steam powered train a half mile north across the river was one of the sounds that might arise to really disturb an evening after all the truck and automobile truck traffic along the road in front of the house had lessened.  After dark, traffic really was light and it could be several minutes between vehicles.  It could be very pleasant and near sublime at times, at least to me in my memories some sixty years or so later.

During the pea harvest season, the constant sound of the trucks carrying the freshly vined peas, stacked in neat wood box crates on the back of the trucks, going up and down the river road in front of the house, going back and forth between the vining machines on the many farms of the area and the cannery in Stanwood. So much of the areas harvest passed in front of our home every day and into the night during the corn and pea harvests.   Not every night, but quite often, in order to keep the local harvests on schedule the pea vining crews would work under lights at the vining machine well into the night.  How late I never realized for I always drifted off to sleep even with all the quiet noise one encountered in that wonderful period of my life.

Of course, on occasion, one might hear the loud bray of a  bull confined to his small pen adjacent to the barn milking parlor on the farm directly across the river from Uncle John's home, the home where Mother grew up.  What might disturb the animal, I never understood, for his brood, his private harem, had completed their evening milking before sunset and  were all lying down and at rest in the fields for the night, chewing their cud in the rapidly declining light, and once again awaiting the morning milking routine.  All was at peace until the "Bull" gave his call of unrest.  Or was it his sign of approaching danger?   But he could certainly assert himself and give notice to all around him, that this was his right, his duty to express his instincts of the moment.  Poor guy, what a life to live.  I need not say more, for his duties certainly had it's ups and downs.  Sometimes he was needed, sometimes he was not.  Perhaps his call was nothing other than an expression of extreme frustration.  Most likely he was still hungry, I shall never know.

But I was a distant witness to his demise one evening just after dusk.  Something I shall never forget, and once again it was the loud call of this confined bull across the river.  A very strange thing to have witnessed and it happened so quickly.

It was a common sight to see large winged cranes fly along the river, usually in the morning and the evenings as I recall.  One evening while on the side porch with Uncle John feeding his faithful old dog "chummy" I did notice a crane flying in the weak light along the river at a customary height, about the height of power poles.  Not really very high, but that was not unusual for it seemed to be a convenient height for them when they were in flight.  But this one time was the last time for one surprised crane.

For some reason, the crane decided to alight and rest this one evening, and his choice of locations proved fatal for him and the old penned up bull.  I do have a slight memory of just watching the crane land on what was probably a common place to find  temporary roost for many cranes in the area.  That place was on a power line that ran along the road on the opposite bank.  A natural place to land for sure, it was at his level of flight but what happened then is difficult to describe in detail for it all happened at a seemingly lightning speed.  I turned away from watching the large bird and immediately I heard a squawk, saw a bright flash of light, and an extremely loud cry from the bull, a very drastic call for help I am sure, but alas it was his last call in the evening light.

What had happened was that the crane after settling on one wire of the dual-strand power service atop the poles, had for some reason reached across and in some fashion had made contact with the second strand of wire which immediately short-circuited the power as it went through it's body.  Of course it immediately killed the animal and it of course fell to the ground near the bull, which was penned outside at the corner of the barn directly below the bird.  But that was not the end of the event.

The power lines being damaged due to the direct short between the two wires caused by the bird, apparently weakened, broke and fell to the ground right within the bulls pen.  As commonly happens when a live power line comes into contact with the earth it begins to bounce around erratically powered by it's continuing contact with the ground.  The result was inevitable I suppose for the out of control live power wire instantly made contact with the bull, causing it to cry out in pain, and it too fell to the ground dead.  Again, a most horrible cry of helplessness I have never heard since in my life.

But that again was not the end of the story.  No more life of any sort was lost after the initial onslaught but the next thing to happen was that the live power wire then made contact with the barn somehow and immediately set the barn on fire.  It was rapidly building in strength as Uncle John and I stood there watching in disbelief what had just transpired in what seemed like just a split second.

We did eventually gather our wits and I was told to run next door to Mary and Charly's house and alert Mary to call the East Stanwood Fire Department.  Mary and Charley had the closest phone in the area. To this day I can't really remember what excited words may have come out of my mouth but Mary somehow understood and went immediately to her phone with Charley putting on his boots to race next door to view the scene with Uncle John.  It wasn't very long before we heard sirens coming from town and eventually wind their way down the river road on the far side to the barn.  The barn was actually saved, but with some serious damage.

What a sight it must have been for the farmer coming out of his house as well as for the arriving  firemen to come across the scene and to see such destruction.  Even today it seems an almost impossible scene to  me but I did witness it.   It doesn’t seem to have traumatized me for life however.  At least I hope not.  I do look for large flying birds whenever near a river though.  Never know what might happen.  Lightning can strike twice they say.