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.

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Amanuensis Monday - My Grandmother's Poem

When we were growing up, my brother, Arthur, and I used to each teasingly "claim" one of our grandmothers as our own.  Our paternal grandmother, Anna Green Yarborough, was, "MY grandma", and our mother's mother was "his".  I'm not sure how or why this started, but I did have an extremely close relationship with my Grandma Yarborough, and my Grandma Thomas was always a bit more of a mystery woman to me, even though she lived closer to us, in Norfolk.  I've always been aware of the many traits I inherited from my father's mother, but, as time goes on, I'm finding that there's quite a bit of my Grandma Thomas in me, too! 

I've been writing poetry since I was in junior high school, but for the most part, I've kept my writings private. (The exception has been the many motivational pieces I've written for students to perform.) Several years ago, while exploring some of the items left in the dresser drawer in the room my grandmother once occupied at my mom's house, I came across this poem.  I was delighted, yet baffled.  Did my grandmother really write this?  I never, ever would have even imagined her penning a poem, especially not something as fabulously insightful as this one.  I just didn't know this side of my grandmother at all!

I remember getting on the computer and searching for the lines of the poem, to see if perhaps someone else had authored it.  Nothing came up. I even did it again, before starting this post.  Still, nothing.  I recently learned that this poem was read at my grandmother's funeral in 1986, but I have no memory of hearing it, then.  The person who mentioned it to me referred to it as, "that beautiful poem that was written by your grandmother".  I think that with that, along with the inscription and dedication which follow the poem, it's time for me to accept what I found so hard to believe.  My "brother's grandmother" (lol) was a poet!

It is with enormous pride that I present the poem, "You Say I'm Growing Old?", written by Mary Davis Hill Thomas, January 24, 1960, and dedicated to her children, Howell, (Mary)Anne, and Jane.

You Say I'm Growing Old?

You tell me I'm glowing? I tell you that's not so

The house" I live in may be worn out, 

That of course I know.

It's been in use a long, long while, it's weathered many a gale

I'm really not surprised you think it's getting somewhat frail.

The color on the roof is changing, the windows getting dim,

The walls are a bit transparent and looking rather thin.

The foundation not so steady as once it used to be,

My "house" is getting shaky, but my "house" isn't me.

My few short years can't make me old, I feel I'm in my youth.

Eternity lies just ahead, a life of joy and truth.

I'm going to live forever there, as life will go on - it's grand.

You tell me I'm getting old? You just don't understand.

The dweller in my little "house" is young and bright and gay,

Just starting on a life to last throughout eternal day.

You only see the outside, which is all that most folks see.

You tell me I'm getting old? You mixed my "house" with me.

As Mary Thomas 
                                               feel(s) about herself this January 24, 1960
                                                                                        Mary H. Thomas

On the back of the original was this inscription:

To my children Howell, Anne, and Jane

Sunday afternoon, January 24th

reading poetry at Y.W.C.A. 927 Park Ave. Norfolk

compared my present life and my future home

ove on the other side of this sheet of paper

                                             Mary Thomas

I'm so proud of my grandmother for writing this phenomenal poem, and just for being the strong, beautiful woman that she was.  I know so much more about her, and the life she lived, because of my research, and I am grateful to have been chosen to share her story, and that of my other ancestors, with the world.

To learn more about my grandmother, Mary Davis Walker Hill Thomas, click here (for a post about both of my grandmothers) and here, here, and here for a 3-part series I wrote about the losses my Grandma Thomas experienced in her life.

Thanks for reading!

Renate

The poem, "You Say I'm Growing Old" was written in 1960 by Mary Thomas, and is the express property of her descendants.  It is not to be used or copied without crediting the author.

Permalink to this post: http://justthinking130.blogspot.com/2014/03/amanuensis-monday-my-grandmothers-poem.html

Mystery Monday - Workin' on the Railroad

This picture was amongst the belongings of my maternal grandmother, Mary Davis Walker Hill Thomas. I don't know who any of the gentlemen in the picture are, but I can be pretty sure that they likely worked at the railyard in Norfolk, Virginia, since that is where my grandmother lived, and sinceher father, Walter Davis, and at least on of her husbands worked for the railroad. I would love to be able to identify these men, especially since one of them may possibly be my great-grandfather!


Note: It's possible that the gentleman who is kneeling in front with the brake bar(?) in his hand might be James Allen Walker, my grandmother's first husband. He has the same light complexion and sharp features, however, the man in this picture looks older than 27 (to me), the age Allen was at the time of his sad and tragic death. However, I can't rule him out because Allen did work as a brakeman at the Virginia Railway coal pier, so this very well may be him.

Note 2: It's also possible that one of these gentlemen could have been my grandmother's father, Walter Davis. I've never seen a picture of him, but he, too, worked at the pier, and was mortally injured in a train accident in 1935.

New Discoveries on the Maternal Side - HILLS, HOWELLS, and HAYES

Yesterday was a banner day in my research life for two reasons: One, I visited the Library of Virginia for the very first time, and two, while there I discovered the name and hometown of my maternal great grandmother!

The Library of Virginia is indeed a beautiful building. It is spacious, well-lit, and beautifully appointed. I'd gone there planning to tour the entire edifice, and take it all in, with plans only to view and get copies of three of my Norfolk, VA ancestors. After all, I was only in Richmond for an impromtu breakfast meet-up with my youngest daughter. This was just going to be a quick stop on a day filled with "to-do"s. Four hours after arriving, I was reluctantly leaving for the drive back home to attend an afternoon engagement. Not only did I have the death certificates (which provided lots of surprising information that I'll blog about later), but I'd also taken advantage of the Pro-Quest access to uncover more articles about my ancestors, the tiniest of which provided me with information about the family of my elusive grandfather, Daniel W. Hill, my mother's father (who abandoned their family when she was just four).

Daniel Webster Hill has, until now, just basically been a name on my family tree.  He is definitely one of my brick walls, and he is the one closest to me, generationally, as he was my mother's father.  Daniel and my grandmother, Mary Davis Walker, were married in Philadelphia in 1929, and they lived there for a short time after they wed.  However, by 1930, they are already back in Norfolk, VA, living in the home which Mary had moved out of to join Daniel in PA.  I've often wondered why they returned to Norfolk so soon, but perhaps now, I've found my answer.

As a result of my search of the Norfolk Journal and Guide on ProQuest for "Daniel Hill Norfolk", this little article popped up.

It reads: Mrs. Pinkie Howell of Gilmerton, VA, who was strickin with illness while visiting her daughter in Philadelphia, Pa., died Sunday, May 19.  The remains were brought to Gilmerton for funeral and internment.  She leaves to mourn her loss a son, Mr. Daniel Hill, of Norfolk, and one daughter, Mrs. Emma Hayes of Philadelphia.

..... and
        the
             brick wall
                    began to immediately
                                                tumble
                                                       down.....

In just these three little lines, I learned the following information that I never knew before:

• The name of my great-grandmother.  Pinkie Howell would have been my mother's grandmother.  This explains so much for me, as I've often wondered how and why she never knew her father's parents, or any of his relatives, despite the fact that he abandoned the family when she was four.  I've asked her and her brother many times if they are sure that no one ever asked after them, or visited them from their father's family.  They've always insisted that no one had, and they've both grown old not knowing a thing about their own father or his family - except for their father's name.  Now, at least I can let them know that it wasn't that their own grandmother didn't care enough to want to know them; she had passed before either of them were ever born. :(
• The origin of my mother's brother's first name, Howell.  My grandparents named their first-born child, Howell Webster Hill.  I've always felt that the "Howell" had to be for something or someone, since they gave him the same middle name as his father (Webster).  Now that I've discovered his mother's surname, I'm beginning to question whether or not Daniel's real last name might've been Howell, too.  Maybe he was running or hiding from something or someone, and maybe this is why he's remained a brick wall for so many years.  This is a stretch though, because there are some other Hills in the Norfolk area who my mom and her brother say that we are related to.  Maybe Pinkie was just married to a Howell who raised Daniel.  I'll have to research this further.
• The location of my grandfather's family.  According to the article, Pinkie Howell lived in Gilmerton, Va.  Well, there is no longer a township by that name, but when I looked it up, I discovered that Gilmerton was actually located in Chesapeake, Va (which is right next to Norfolk), and after a few moments reflection, realized that it must be in the section of Chesapeake which now hosts the Gilmerton Bridge, which I hear about every morning and evening during the traffic segment on the news.  This was confirmed today during a telephone conversation with my Uncle Howell, who lives in Chesapeake now.  This means that my grandfather, Daniel Hill, whom I've always known was born in Virginia, was most likely raised right in Chesapeake.
• The fact that my grandfather had a sister, Emma, her married name, Hayes, and her location.  This means that my mother and her brother had an aunt, who sadly, never knew them or vice-versa.  However, Emma will most likely be the key to my finding out more about my grandfather's family and circumstances, and she may even lead me discovering what happened to him.  I've already found the Emma Hayes that I'm pretty certain is her.If I'm right, she was married to McCabe Hayes, a gentleman who appears to have been 8 years younger than she, and who was a WWI Veteran.

From this 1920 Census document, I also learn that Emma's father was born in North Carolina, and her mother in Virginia.  Assuming that Emma and Daniel shared the same parents, these would be my great-great grandparents. :)

• In addition to the information above, several "mysteries" have been cleared up for me by this article.  I now understand why, despite an announcement in the Journal and Guide (which I shared in a previous post) that my grandparents (Daniel and Mary) were married and had moved to Philadelphia in 1926, they were back living at her home in Norfolk by the time the 1930 Census was taken. I also never understood just how it came to be that they got married in Philadelphia, rather than in Virginia.  Even though my mother and her brother have always said that their father had some kind of connection to Philadelphia, they never seemed to know what it was.  Now, we know that at least one close relative, Daniel's sister, Emma was there.  Perhaps, after the death of their mother, they came back this way to close her affairs.  I may never know the answer to that, but at least it all makes more sense now.

What was supposed to have been a quick visit to the Library of Virginia, has resulted in a smashing (no pun intended) insult to a long-held brick wall!  I now have my work cut out for me as I begin to explore this newly found branch of my family tree.  There are many questions to be answered, and lots of verifying to do, but I'm up for the task!  In just a few weeks, school will be out for the summer, and I'll be digging into my research around the clock.  Surely, this will keep me busy for hours on end!

Thanks for reading. :)
Renate

Sentimental Sunday - My Grandmother's Loss (Part 2 of 3)

This is the second in a series of what will be three posts dedicated to the life and memory of my grandmother, Mary Davis Walker Hill Thomas. I began this series of posts after receiving copies of several articles from the Norfolk, VA Journal and Guide, which confirmed, and in some cases, revealed stories about my ancestors.  To read the initial post, which explains how I came into possession of these articles, please click here. Part 1 

In writing this series, I hope to make amends with my grandmother's spirit.  I was 24 years old when she left us for her reward, and up to that point in my life, I didn't have the knowledge, nor the maturity, to empathize with what her life must have been like, after experiencing the loss of three husbands, and then, ultimately, living out her last 36 years as a widow.  Being a person who always reaches out and tries to understand and connect with others, I feel just awful for not knowing her better, seeing her more clearly, and/or loving her more dearly.  In my grown-up, intellectual mind, I know that I really have no fault, especially since I was never told of her hardships; but the sentimental, emotionally-connected part of me is heavy-laden with a feeling of guilt, every time I think about how I distanced myself from this grandmother, in favor of my paternal one. Mary Thomas' outer-shell was deservedly hardened.  I imagine she must have lived each day that I knew her constantly protecting and shielding her heart from further pain.

Part 2: Daniel Hill

Sometime after the (literally) crushing death of my grandmother's first husband, James Allen Walker, in 1923, she met Daniel Webster Hill.  I have no idea how they met, or how their relationship developed, but the article below - another of the nine sent to me by my genealogical benefactor, shows where it went.

  It seems that Mary had found love again.  She married my grandfather, Daniel W. Hill on July 11, 1926.  According to this article, the couple moved to Philadelphia  (another fact I never knew), but by the 1930 Census, they are back in Norfolk, living in the family home with my great-grandparents, Walter and Minerva Davis.  (Note:  By all accounts, and from what the records show, my grandmother, Mary, was the homeowner.  She purchased the home after the death of her first husband.  I presume she must have used whatever insurance money she received to buy the home.)

I know nothing about my maternal grandparent's marriage except that it happened, and that they had two children together; my uncle, Howell Webster, born in 1931 and my mother, Maryanne, in 1934.  However, this third article from the Journal & Guide at least hints at the fact that my grandmother may have been living a happy life.  She was already active in the church she was a member of, and funeralized in 53 years later. Her son was winning baby contests, and she would, just two months after this, conceive my mother with her husband, Daniel.



At some point, the happy days ended for Daniel and Mary. For whatever the reason(s), my grandfather  abandoned his wife and children when my mother was just four years old.  The family never saw or heard from him again, and I, in my 14 years of research, have been unable to track him down to find out where he went, or what happened to him.  In a recent interview with my uncle who only vaguely remembers having a father, he recalled Daniel Hill as being a "mean man".  My mother doesn't remember her father at all, and neither of them have a clue what he even looked like. 
So, for my grandmother, this was blow #2.  Another marriage dissipated, but for a completely different reason.  This time, she was left with two children to raise.  She'd just lost her father (in 1936), but thankfully, had her mother there to help her.  Though she was saddened by this loss, she was not broken.  Help (and another chance at love) was on the way.  

To read the third and final segment of this series, click here.

Sentimental Sunday - My Grandmother's Loss (Part 1)

A few weeks ago, I was the recipient of a random act of genealogical kindness. A fellow researcher provided me with several articles from the Norfolk, Virginia "Journal and Guide", which featured, or pertained to some of my maternal ancestors. If you missed the post about this, and would like to read it, you can click here.

It has taken me some time to be ready to post about the article which affected me most, but now the time has come. If you follow this blog, you probably already know, or at least sense, that I was extremely close to my paternal grandmother, Anna Green Yarborough. However, my relationship with my maternal grandmother, Mary Davis Thomas, was more distant, even though she lived in closer proximity to me. I never spent much time thinking about this - it's just the way it was. I loved her, and I knew she loved me, but we just didn't have a very intimate personal connection. Grandma Thomas didn't say much (not around me, anyway), and unfortunately, though I saw her often, and she even lived with us in her later years, my memories of her as a quiet, and rather stoic person, make it difficult for me to truly recollect much about our interactions. This said, I'll now admit that when I received the email from Hollis Gentry, with the links to to the nine articles about my family, the very first one I read, which saddened and stunned me, caused me to reflect long and hard about life of the woman whom I'd only known as my, "Grandma Thomas", whose young adult life was impacted and shaped by a series unfortunate events through which she (as seems to be the case with all of the women in my ancestry) persevered, overcame, and maintained her Christian faith.

James Allen Walker - Part I

My grandmother, Mary Davis, with her first husband, Allen Walker.

I did not grow up knowing that my grandmother had been married before or after she married my grandfather, but when I found out as an adult that she had, and I asked what had happened to the first husband, I was only told that he'd "died on the railroad". So, when I opened this first article from Hollis, and really came to terms with what my grandmother, then a young bride must've gone through, I began experience a feeling of mourning, as if I'd been there with her when she got this terrible news, and experienced the first, of what would eventually be three spousal losses.

Yes, my maternal grandmother's first marriage ended when her husband, only 27 years old, was crushed between two train cars.  They'd not had any children, so I'm assuming that the life they'd been building together came to an abrupt and unexpected end when Allen left for work that morning. 

Thanks for reading.

Renate

To read Part 2 of this series, click here.