Six Degrees of Separation - Maternal and Paternal Ancestors in Same Church: Who Knew?

Six Degrees of Separation
You know what they say about "six degrees of separation," right? According to Wikipedia.org, it's the idea that all people are six (or fewer) social connections away from one another.  Well, this belief has proven true, over and over again, in my research; and today's finding is no exception.

Family Origins
My father's family is mostly from Louisburg, Franklin County, NC. My mother's maternal side is originally from Littleton, NC (Halifax and Warren Counties at different times), but her line migrated to Norfolk, VA around the beginning of the 1900s. I have researched both sides, thoroughly, and that research is ongoing. Today, I was looking for information about one of my father's paternal aunts, Quinea/Queenie YARBOROUGH, and her husband, Rev. Joel W. KING. both of whom were originally from Louisburg. I'd discovered, some time ago, that Joel died in Norfolk, which intrigued me, so I was using my access to ProQuest's Historical Newspapers: Black Newspapers Collection to see if I could find mention of him (or Quinea) in the Norfolk Journal and Guide.

My initial search was a little frustrating, because most of the results were for another Rev. Joel King, the brother of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. However, once I added the middle initial, "W", and removed the "Rev." from my search, I ended up with one very eye-opening result. It was an article with the following headline: "Minister, Sister Will Receive Double Funeral." Whaaat? I went on to read the article and learned that it was, indeed, about the correct Joel King and that, sadly, he and his sister, who also lived in Norfolk, had passed just a day apart, both after "a long illness." The two were to be funeralized, together, on June 25, 1966, the same day this article ran.

So, what does this have to do with the "six degrees" rule? Keep reading to find out!

Jerusalem Baptist Church
Jerusalem Baptist Church, in Norfolk, VA, has been home to my mother's family since at least the 1930s. My grandmother, Mary Davis, began attending there, with her children sometime during that decade, and remained a faithful member until her death in 1986. My uncle, the late Howell Hill, Sr. was head of the Deacon Board (among other leadership roles) and was one of the church's most faithful and dedicated members for his entire life. Just last year, in May 2019, our family attended a beautiful recognition ceremony, held in his honor, at Jerusalem. My mother, though we lived across the bay, in Hampton, always maintained her connection to Jerusalem, and attended, from time to time, for special services. She also was invited to speak there on more than one occasion. All my life, I've known of my maternal family's tie to Jerusalem, and I remember, dearly, their pastor during my childhood years, Reverend T.M. Venable.

Here I am with my first cousins in May 2019, in the Fellowship Hall at Jerusalem. 

Our family showed up for  the service to honor my uncle, Howell Hill (seated center) for his lifetime of service at Jerusalem, in May 2019. Less than two weeks later, he went to heaven. 

What I didn't know about my family's connection to Jerusalem is that it also extended to my paternal side! Yes, in reading the article about the double funeral, I learned that my paternal ancestor, Quinea/Queenie YARBOROUGH King, along with her husband Joel, and his sister, Mrs. Louisiana Cooke, were all also members of Jerusalem, and thus, would have, without a doubt, known and interacted with my maternal family! This is amazing to me, and I can't help but wonder if any of my family members knew this!  After all, my mother and father met sometime around 1956-57. However, there is no evidence that my father ever attended services at Jerusalem with my mother, since she was living and working in Hampton by the time they met. They married in 1958 and my mom quickly joined my father in Bremerhaven, Germany, where he was stationed at the time. From there, they moved to Cleveland, OH and then to Hampton, VA, and I believe chances are slim that they would have "crossed the water" with their four children to go to church at Jerusalem.

Who Knew?
I have to believe that, although my parents didn't have their ceremony at Jerusalem, their union certainly would have been announced to the church. If Quinea and Joel were active church members, certainly their antennae would have been raised upon hearing that my mother married someone named YARBOROUGH, from Louisburg, and most assuredly she would have inquired of my grandmother about it, so I believe this connection must have been a known one, and just another of the many tidbits of information that no one ever bothered to share with me about our family. Quinea was, after all, my father's aunt. She was his (deceased) father's older sister. Oh, and not only did these two sides of my family share a church family, but they are also buried in the same cemetery - Calvary Cemetery, in Norfolk. The next time I go to visit my Norfolk ancestors' graves, I will definitely be visiting my native Louisburg family, also!

It's amazing to me, just to to think of this. Two parts of my very disjointed family, worshipping and serving in the same space at the same time - and no one, at least to my knowledge, seemed to have thought to mention this to me in all the interviews (inquisitions, really, lol) I conducted of my elder family members who might have known. It's another family history mystery, for me; but I'm so glad I uncovered it, today!

And the research continues....


Renate


Sources:

Wikipedia contributors. (2020, February 15). Six degrees of separation. In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 18:56, March 10, 2020, from https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Six_degrees_of_separation&oldid=940887573

Minister, sister will receive double funeral. (1966, Jun 25). New Journal and Guide (1916-2003) Retrieved from https://search-proquest-com.ezproxy.virginiamemory.com/docview/568893686?accountid=44788

Sad, Sad Saturday - Death of Walter Davis

This won't be a long post. Right now, I don't even have enough words to express the jolt of sadness I'm feeling this morning after reading this very descriptive article about the death of my maternal great-grandfather, Walter Davis; but I must honor him right this minute, by sharing (what I know of) his story, here on my blog.

Walter Davis was born July 16, 1875, in Brunswick County, Virginia to parents Lewis Davis and Dolly Ann Crutchfield.
He spent his childhood in Warren County, NC (which is the only place I'd known the family to live until recently discovering his tie to Virginia). In 1895, 20-year-old Walter married Minerva Brown, and by 1900, the couple (still residing in Littleton, Warren County) had given birth to two children, Samuel (1896) and my grandmother, Mary (1897). By 1910 the family was living in Norfolk, Virginia, where Lewis was a Foreman (Coal Trimmer)* at the coal piers, located in the same Lambert's Point section of the city where the family home stands to this day. Sadly, little Samuel is no longer with the family and is presumed to have passed away.

Just about a year ago, I obtained this photo of my great-grandfather, Walter, who I'd never seen a confirmed photo of, before that point.

Walter Davis

I'd been told by my mother and her siblings that their grandfather had died in a tragic accident at the coal piers where he worked, but I never knew the of the gory details that are included in the following article. At the time of this tragedy, my mother would have only been 15 months old. Her brother, Howell, was 3. Their sister, Jane, wasn't yet born. My great-grandparents, my grandparents, and my mother and uncle all shared a home in Lambert's Point, so this loss had to have hit the entire family very hard; although it gives me comfort to know that my great-grandmother, Minerva, was not alone during this horrible time. However, what makes this even more dismal is that, 12 years earlier, my grandmother, Mary, had lost her first husband in just as tragic an accident. at the same location that had now claimed the life of her father. I wrote about that calamity in my post, "Sentimental Sunday - My Grandmother's Loss".

Just looking at Walter Davis in this photo, I sense that he was a hard-working, very determined, and perhaps serious-minded man. I can't help but wonder if there is something more to this story. Didn't he hear the bell ringing? Did he not get off the tracks on purpose for some reason? Could someone have pushed him onto the tracks?

My heart is truly aching this morning after reading this article. (Click to enlarge.)

                     

Update:
Not too long after composing this post, I was able to obtain my great-grandfather's death certificate, on a visit to the Library of Virginia. This document further confirms the family tradition, as well as the newspaper accounts of Walter Davis' very sad, extremely tragic death.

Death Certificate of Walter Davis, stating that he died of "Shock following multiple injuries to whole body" with the contributory source being "Steam Rail Road Accident".

Walter Davis, I say your name. 
May you forever rest in peace.

Your great-granddaughter,

Renate

Thanks for reading.

* A coal trimmer or trimmer is a position within the engineering department of a coal-fired ship which involves all coal handling tasks starting with the loading of coal into the ship and ending with the delivery of the coal to the stoker. 


Sources: 
Coal trimmer definition  (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coal_trimmer)

HOLD FINAL RITES FOR ACCIDENT VICTIM. (1935, Jul 06). New Journal and Guide (1916-2003) Retrieved from https://search.proquest.com/docview/567336517?accountid=44788

Library of Virginia, Accession Number 36390: Walter Davis, Certificate Number 14008, June 28, 1935.

Permalink to this post: http://justthinking130.blogspot.com/2017/05/sad-sad-saturday-death-of-walter-davis.html

Tombstone Tuesday - Perseverance PAYS!

Subtitle: Success in the Cemetery!

I'm posting today to share my excitement about a victory (of sorts) that I've had.  I thought that this was going to be more of a follow-up post, however, upon searching my blog, I've discovered that I never did write about the search for my maternal grandmother's grave marker.

My mother's mother, Mary Thomas, died in 1986.  She was buried in Calvary Cemetery, an historical burial ground in Norfolk, Virginia.  Because I spent the first 14 years of my genealogical journey completely focused on researching my paternal ancestors, it wasn't until just a few years ago, when I turned my attention to my mother's folks, that I decided to head over to Norfolk to visit my grandmother's grave.  Once I did, I was disappointed to discover that the spot where she rested was covered only by green grass, and wasn't marked in any way.

I was 24 years old when my grandmother died, and of course, I attended her funeral.  However, not being a cemetery or genealogy buff at the time, I can't say that I paid any attention to how the grave was marked.  But, what I did know (or at least what I thought) was that my mother and her two siblings would certainly have put some kind of a marker on their mother's grave.  I inquired at the cemetery office, but long story, short, they had no records related to the markers or headstones.  Their records only pertained to the actual burials.

At the advice of the person in the cemetery office, I contacted Hale Funeral Home, to see if they had any records pertaining to my grandmother's burial.  (I called right from the grounds of the cemetery, hoping to just drive right over!)  Unfortunately (and quite sadly), the person I spoke with told me a story of transferred management after family deaths, and records which had actually been THROWN AWAY.  If I recall correctly, all of the pre-1997 records of this funeral home, which has been serving African-Americans in the Tidewater area for 100 years, were destroyed during changes in management.  Needless to say, I was disappointed, and appalled.  Not only were the records of my own ancestors gone - I actually have several who were serviced by this funeral home - but so were those of hundreds of others. 

After this troubling revelation, it seemed that there would be no way for me to prove that there'd once been a marker at my grandmother's gravesite.  My mother told me that my uncle had handled the burial transactions, and when I asked him about it, he said he no longer had any of the paperwork, but reiterated that he "thought" there was "some kind of stone, or something" at the grave.  With nothing else to go on, I just kind of put this to the side, but vowed to one day get to the bottom of it. (No pun intended.) :)

Anyway, life and genealogy went on, and then one day, quite by accident, I ran across this picture, while going through some things at my mother's house:



My nephew, Robert, and my daughter, Natasha, beside the freshly-covered grave of their great-grandmother,
Mary Thomas.

So, there ya go!  You'd better believe I was doing the genealogy happy-dance, for here was all the proof I needed (and more)!  As soon as I saw this picture, I knew for sure that this was my grandmother's burial location, because it was the exact spot on which I'd stood with the cemetery caretaker, but all that was there was grass.  But here were my nephew, age 6, and my daughter, age 4 obviously not too long after my grandmother had been buried.

With this picture in hand, as well as the actual receipt for the 6-vault burial plot that my great-grandmother had purchased in 1935,  I took the 35-minute drive over to Norfolk last Monday, ready for battle.  I called ahead to let them know I was coming, and "Bret", the current manager of the cemetery, after hearing my plight, said he'd pull his records and be ready for me.  Once there, he and another employee in the office were very kind and accommodating towards me, so no fight was necessary. :)  Bret verified the location of my family plot (yes, it's a family plot, but I'll write about that in another post), and printed out a new map for me using their fancy-smancy new program.  Then, off we went, armed with my proof-providing picture to do a "test-dig". 

I couldn't believe how excited I was about this, but I was almost beside myself.  When we got to the plot, I used the picture to help Bret locate the exact spot in which to drive his shovel, and after just a couple of hits in that spot, we heard it - the unmistakable clang of metal against stone.

Bret marks the spot for the dig.

           

And so we began...

As Bret chiseled and dug, I continued to "coach" him, directionally.  After just a few minutes, I had all of the confirmation I needed.

Do you see what I see?




At this point, tears began to well up in my eyes, as I realized that we had, indeed, found my grandmother.  Of course she was there all along, but there was just something about the grave being unmarked that was very unsettling to me.  Now, I knew for sure that we were in the right spot, and presumably my grandma, along with her husband, her parents, and her uncle were all right there where they'd been laid to rest. 

Bret continued his work, commenting to me, "You were exactly right about it.", as he dug, more gently now, around the step.  In reverence to my ancestors, I remained silent, as he uncovered the unmistakable match to my photograph.

And there it is, the THOMAS surname, clear as day.

Just a few minutes after the step was completely revealed, as Bret was explaining to me that it would be raised and reset before the end of the week, a truck drove by with the very men who would be doing it. He summons them to stop, and they came over and heard the whole story.  Everyone involved (including Bret) seemed surprised and baffled that the marker had been allowed to sink like that, since the cemetery is well, and consistently cared for, but what happened, happened.  I'm just glad that they were so amicable about it, and willing to do the work (at no cost to my family, of course) to right the situation.  I didn't go back yet, but I'm guessing the work has been done.  I plan to go over this weekend to see.

There was so much more to this post, but, unfortunately, I hit a wrong button last night was I was creating it, and lost all but the very first part.  Time only permits me to redo this much for now, but thank you for reading.  Needless to say, my heart is glad. :)

Thanks for reading.

Renate



Sentimental Sunday - Riding with Mom

The month of March has been extremely emotional for me for a number of reasons.  One thing that has been a challenge has been witnessing my mother's apparent loneliness, and then, just this past Friday trying to be uplifting and supportive as she, as she occasionally does, actually verbalized her feelings and expressed a true concern about her situation in life.  (For those readers who don't know, my mother has been in assisted living since June of 2004 after a devastating fall, and has lost her ability to walk -for the most part - in the past year.)  I've been very torn up and concerned trying to figure out what I can do that I'm not already doing to try to improve her situation.  I left her on Friday promising to pick her up for a ride out the next day, which was to be a warm, sunny 70+ degrees.  (My mother won't come out in the cold.)

We got a later start than I'd hoped for, due to my morning WAR with my allergies, but finally after lunch I picked my mom up and off we went.  She did a good job of getting into the car for me, which was a good sign.  Before we left the parking lot of her facility, I put on her make-up and jewelry to get her looking like Mary Anne, and we plotted out our afternoon ride.

 Our first stop would be in Hampton, at my mother's home (which she still owns and I take care of).  She sat in the car while I went in to check the house and get the mail.  When I came out, I noticed her neighbor sitting on her screened-in back porch.  She hadn't realized my mom was with me, but when I told her, she came right over to chat with her.  God is so good!  This is just what my mother needed - a few minutes with an old friend - her neighbor of 46 years.  I invited Mrs. Cappe to perch on the door-sill beside my mother, and sat by patiently while the two friends got caught up with each other, and Mrs. Cappe filled my mother in on the health of another previous neighbor.  This little visit, though brief, did my mother a world of good, and served to continue the job of lifting her spirits, which the ride, the sunshine, and I had already begun.  As an almost-afterthought, I decided to snap the two ladies' picture with my cell-phone just before we left.  It's a dark shot, but still I'm glad I was able to capture the moment.

That's my mom on the right, talking to her neighbor , Mrs. Cappe, as they sat in the car under our carport.

From here, we took a ride just a mile or so away, to the home of a dear friend and former co-worker of mine.  I'd called to tell her that we were in the area, and wanted her to meet my mom, since she never had and she hears me talk about her all the time.  The meeting was quick, but went well. :)  Next stop - McDonald's to get the required Coca-Cola (I don't know how to make the brand-sign) which my mother requests whenever we go out.  Then, it was onto to the interstate and off to Norfolk, where she was born and raised.

Our first stop on the south side was to Calvary Cemetery, the burial ground of my mother's mother and her paternal grandparents.  I wanted to show her that there was no headstone or marker for them, a discovery I'd made when I first visited in January.  She insists that there should have been a marker-plate for her mother, who died in 1986, and her brother has told me the same thing.  Luckily, the plot is right by the side of the road, so my mother was able to see for herself that there was nothing there but grass.  We drove around the cemetery a bit, looking at some of the surnames and unique graves (many of which I photographed on my last visit and have already uploaded to Find-A-Grave).  Next, it was off to my mother's childhood home, which she also owns, and I also now take care of.

Again, Mom waited in the car while I did my walk-through of the now-vacant property, which is adjacent to ODU's campus.  When I returned to the car, she reminisced a bit and commented on how the neighborhood was changing.  We talked about the need to get new tenants or sell soon, noticed the completion of the new recreation center in the next block, and headed out of the neighborhood for the 45 minute drive back to her facility in Newport News.

All in all this was a great day with and for my mom.  It saddens my heart that she, once such a vibrant and active member of the community, is now so physically confined by her failing body that she can't get out and about anymore, but I'm ever-so-glad that Spring has come, so that I can at least take her out on the weekends now.

On Tuesday, my mother will celebrate her 76th birthday.  Yes, I said 76.  The debilitating condition which has robbed her of her bodily control and ability to balance began to torment my mother eleven years ago, when she was only 65.  I'm thankful that she still has her mind (although there are times when she is extremely sleepy and you might not believe it) and that she knows all of her family members and what is going on around her.  This can be a mixed blessing though, because this means that she is well-aware of how seldom anyone else visits her, except for my daughters and me, but still it is a blessing.  Mom has asked me to make a yellow cake with lemon icing for her birthday, and she wants vanilla ice-cream, so that's what we'll be having to celebrate.  Oh, and if you're wondering what we'll be drinking... well, in this family, COKE is always IT!

Renate