A Hymn Could Save Your Life

Catherine Blanshan DuBois was 34 years old and living with her family on the frontier of southeastern New York in the mid 1600’s.  She was born in France and several years after her marriage to Louis DuBois, this Huguenot family moved to the New World, probably arriving at New Amsterdam (New York) in 1661.  They soon settled in the community of “New Village”, which was on the Hudson River near present day Kingston, N.Y.  The region, at this time, was still wilderness and the settlers gathered together in communities or forts for their protection against the Indians.  There had been some negotiations with the Indians of the area, but a dispute arose at the building of “New Village”, a community near the first settlement nearby, “Wiltwyck.”  The Indians claimed that the land on which the new community was being built had not been a part of previous negotiations concerning settlement of the area.  For this and other reasons, tensions between the settlers and the Indians began to mount. 

So, late one morning in June of 1663, when most of the men and some of the women of these communities were out in the fields working the land, a group of Indians attacked both the New Village and the older fort at Wiltwyck nearby.  According to accounts all the dwellings of the New Village were burned.  Three men who were able to return quickly to ward off the attack were killed.  Eight women and 25 children were taken prisoner from New Village, including Catherine DuBois.  Houses at Wiltwyck were also burned and additional prisoners taken captive, bringing the total number of those captive to 45.  

At least a month passed before an organized group of English and Dutch soldiers, under the command of Capt. Martin Kregier, was formed to go after the attackers.  One of the captured women had escaped and was willing to lead this force to the Indian fort where the captives had been taken.  But, when Kregier’s group arrived at this location, about 30 miles to the southwest of Wiltwyck, the Indians had moved.  Frustrated, Krieger’s, men set fire to the Indian fort, fields, and stored corn.

Another month passed and then news came from an Indian informant about the location of a new fort being built by the Indian group who had the captives.  Kregier put another force together and they were able to mount a successful surprise attack and rescue the prisoners.

Most of the story I’ve just related is fairly well documented by historical sources.  The part that I tell next, about Catherine DuBois is what many might consider legend, as there are no historic sources that confirm it as absolute truth.  This legend has been recorded in a number of books about that region and was probably passed on from generation to generation, perhaps with some storyteller’s embellishments.

About ten weeks after the early June attack and capture, the Indians decided to burn some of their captives, including Catherine DuBois and her young baby Sarah.  They gathered a pile of wood and placed Catherine and baby Sarah on top, but just as they were about to torch the pile, Catherine began to sing, from the Huguenot Psalter, Psalm 137.  This Psalm is set during the time of the capture of the Jews by the Babylonians, and foretells of the coming destruction of Babylon.

    Alongside Babylon's rivers we sat on the banks; 
    we cried and cried,  remembering the good old days in Zion. 
   Alongside the quaking aspens we stacked our unplayed harps; 
   That's where our captors demanded songs, sarcastic and mocking: 
   "Sing us a happy Zion song!"

    Oh, how could we ever sing God's song in this wasteland? 
   If I ever forget you, Jerusalem, let my fingers wither and fall off like leaves. 
   Let my tongue swell and turn black  if I fail to remember you, 
   If I fail, O dear Jerusalem,  to honor you as my greatest.


The Indians held the fire so that they could listen to Catherine’s beautiful song.  When she finished they demanded that she continue to sing, which she did.  It was at this time that Kregier’s force staged their surprise attack, surrounding the Indians and their captives.  Catherine’s beautiful hymn singing had saved her life!!

Historians have discounted this legend of Catherine’s hymn singing, citing that there is no mention of it in Capt. Kregier’s official report.  Kregier’s journal indicates that the Indians were busy constructing their fort when his forces surprised them, not preparing to burn captives.  And, historians also note that it was uncharacteristic of Indians of that region to burn their captives, especially women.

Believe what you will.  Maybe there is some truth to the story.  Perhaps Catherine and the other women did sing beloved Psalms from the Huguenot Psalter to pass away their time in captivity.  The Huguenot Psalter was an attempt, by those during the Reformation, to translate the Psalms into the common language of the people.  They were set to simple melodies, often-French folk songs.  The captured women probably knew them all by heart and singing them would have likely brought them great comfort.  

Well, I like the story, whether it is absolutely true or not, and so I think I’ll download “Psaume 137” from the collection “Psaumes De La Reforme”, and contemplate Catherine’s experience.  I suppose it is a tale that is meant to illustrate the power and strength of faith.  And, I believe, that even if the story had ended with her singing as the flames surrounded her in death, the message would not have been diminished.  Faith brings a healing power despite the outcome of our mortal selves.  Maybe the experience of faith, felt by singing a beloved hymn, could save your life!

-Mary


Catherine DuBois was my 9th great grandmother and I’m actually a descendant of two of her grandsons.  It is also likely that Joost Vanmeter, her future son-in-law (my 8th great grandfather), was among the children taken captive.

(Catherine Blanshan-Sarah DuBois-Isaac VanMeter-Rebecca VanMeter- Capt. Isaac Hite-Jacob Hite-Robert Hite-Eleanor Hite-Goslee Geiger-Thomas Geiger-Elizabeth Geiger- me)

or

(Catherine Blanshan- Sarah DuBois- John VanMeter-Jacob VanMeter-Elizabeth VanMeter-Letitia Swan- William Fairleigh-James Fairleigh-David Fairleigh-Abram Fairleigh-Emma Fairleigh-Elizabeth Geiger)

Isaac Hite- KY Pioneer

Isaac Hite, my first ancestor to have ventured into the land of Kentucky, was born in Virginia in 1753.  He spent some of his childhood in a log cabin just north of what is today Moorefield, West Virginia.  Isaac's father, Abraham Hite, had built this 4-room cabin near the South Branch of the Potomac, when Isaac was about 12.  It is my understanding that the remains of this cabin are still standing.  Here, the family farmed and raised hogs.  His father Abraham served as a county lieutenant of then Hampshire County, Virginia, and later was a representative to the House of Burgess and member of the Virginia Convention of 1776. 

This area, where Isaac spent the formative years of his childhood, was on the edge of the wilderness.  Like Daniel Boone, young Isaac was at home with finding his way in the woods and also no stranger to encounters with Indians.  Isaac Hite's maternal grandfather, Isaac Van Meter, had established a frontier fort in the same vicinity, and was killed and scalped by Indians when Isaac Hite was only 3.   Isaac Van Meter, is considered the earliest settler in the valley of Virginia.  Isaac Hite's paternal grandfather, Jost Hite, had migrated from Germany in about 1709, initially settled in Pennsylvania, and then moved to an area near today’s Winchester, Virginia, purchasing his land from Isaac Van Meter.

When Isaac Hite was 20 years old (1773) he signed on as a deputy surveyor with Capt. Thomas Bullitt’s party, headed to the Falls of the Ohio (today Louisville, KY).  Virginia had issued land warrants to those who had served in the French and Indian War, and later the Revolutionary War.  These warrants allowed their recipients a certain number of acres in Kentucky.  It was up to the warrant holder to go through the various steps of having the land surveyed and returning this survey information to the land office who then issued a patent to the land.  I’ve simplified it but in reality it was a complicated process that ended up to be wrought with error and later litigation.  Surveyors were hired to make the required surveys for warrant holders, and often were given land as payment for their services.  

There were no accurate maps of Kentucky at this time and the surveyors’ tools were simply a compass and a measured chain.   It is reported that more land was issued in land warrants than actually existed in Kentucky.  Inaccurate and overlapping surveys over time brought on years of legal fights over land rights and prompted many families, including the Boones and the Lincolns, to move further west rather than pay lawyers to plead their cases in the courts.  For many, land in Kentucky was seen as an easy way to make big profits.  Even George Washington thought he would make a huge profit on Kentucky land he received in exchange for a horse.  But like others, Washington had difficulties in getting a clear title to Kentucky lands he “owned.”  

When Isaac Hite arrived in 1773 he was among the first groups of surveyors into Kentucky.  He traveled from his home near today’s Moorefield, WV catching up with the rest of Bullitt’s survey party at the mouth of the Big Miami in late June.  Bullitt’s party had traveled down the Ohio River from Ft. Pitt, and it is assumed that Isaac followed this same route.  A journal of one of the men noted that on June 28, “There Mr. Hite and six men in canoes came to us from Pittsburg.  Mr. Hite surveyor in that company.”   

Isaac Hite kept his own journal for a portion of the trip and from that we know a bit about the six weeks he spent during this summer of 1773 in Kentucky.  His diary consists of cryptic notes of typical days spent surveying, hunting and trying to avoid encounters with Indians.  

Sept. 1: “…went out with Samuel Hinch and killd a verry fat buffellow that night there came 3 Indians to us”

Sept. 4: “ set out to the land that we were going to survey and went about 6 miles and killd a buffellow for our suppers & breakfast, and calf & skinned it and kooked it”

Sept. 8: “We finished and went to the canoe, the Indians had taken our flour & corn & all our oars and setting poles except one of each”   (5 days earlier they had hidden these canoes and supplies)


The next summer Isaac was back in Kentucky to do more work, this time with the survey crew of John Floyd.  By May 14 1774, a group of over 33 men had arrived at the mouth of the Kentucky River.  Here they separated into groups with the intention of meeting up later at the settlement James Harrod was attempting to establish.  Harrod’s men began to plot out town lots and build cabins in the vicinity of today’s Harrodsburg.  But, later that summer a group of Shawnee attacked a small survey crew nearby, killing two men.  Those who escaped the attack came to warn Harrod’s group, and they all decided to leave the area. 

Isaac Hite and his survey partner were working their way toward the planned meeting, with the rest of Floyd’s survey party, at Harrod’s settlement, when they came upon the bodies of the two killed surveyors.  They hurried to Harrod’s site of operations only to find it deserted.  Frightened, they left a note for John Floyd and the rest of the surveyors, and traveled overland to the Cumberland River.  Here they constructed simple dugout canoes and made their way to the Ohio and then the Mississippi River.  By river they traveled south to New Orleans and then made their way by ships to Pensacola, then Charlestown, and eventually to Williamsburg in December of 1774.  When Floyd’s group arrived at Harrod’s abandoned settlement several days after Hite, they found the note and chose to leave Kentucky by the overland route, since the preferred route up the Ohio River would have been less safe from Indian attack. 

These men were not overreacting. Surveyors were especially vulnerable, often hiding their equipment in order to appear as hunters.  Indians knew that surveyors paved the way for settlement.  This was a time of heightened attacks on frontier settlers. Daniel Boone had even been sent to warn surveyors doing work in Kentucky that summer, although it is not known if he made contact with Floyd’s surveyors. 

The next year (1775) Isaac Hite was back in Kentucky and represented the small “Boiling Springs” group of settlers, when Richard Henderson (leader of the Transylvania colony at Boonesborough) called together a convention of representatives from the scattered Kentucky settlements.  It was the first attempt to establish some sort of frontier government in Kentucky.  The delegates met under a giant elm tree just outside the fort at Boonesborough.  

We only know bits and pieces of Isaac Hite’s life in the years that followed.  He and his extended family were involved in various Kentucky land deals.   There were big profits for those who knew what they were doing and it was a huge advantage for the Hite family to have someone there to handle business transactions, scout land, and keep track of their holdings. 

Indian attacks continued to be a problem especially during the American Revolution, because the British were bribing the tribes to attack Kentucky settlements.  On April 24, 1777 Boonesborough was attacked and we know that Isaac, along with Daniel Boone were among the wounded in its defense.  Isaac Hite is also noted as coming to the aid of Harrodsburg when it was attacked in May of 1781.

Isaac served under George Rogers Clark in 1780 and 1782.  Both of these were raids Clark made on Shawnee villages in Ohio.  The one in 1782 was in retaliation for the Battle at Blue Licks  (mentioned in my previous blog).

In 1782 Isaac Hite, 29 years old, served as a representative of Lincoln County in the Virginia legislature. (Kentucky didn’t become a State until 1792).  He continued to improve his land and built one of the earliest water mills in the state on his property near Harrodsburg, an area called Fountain Bleu.  A letter written to his father Abraham at about this time mentions a number of land dealings concerning the Kentucky property owned by Isaac, his brothers Abraham and Joseph, and his father Abraham Sr. 

About 1784 Isaac moved from the Fountain Bleu settlement, to a place on Goose Creek, near present day Anchorage, just to the east of Louisville.  Hite’s Goose Creek place is shown on John Filson’s map (1784), the earliest published map of Kentucky.  Isaac built a mill and tannery here and at what he called his “Cave Springs Plantation.”  The cabin he built is still standing and is listed on the National Register of Historic Properties.  It was also about this time that his brothers, their families and his parents moved to Kentucky permanently.  His brothers, Joseph and Abraham Jr. and parents (Abraham and Rebecca) built their homesteads southeast of present downtown Louisville. 

It was not until the summer of 1788 that Isaac Hite, then 35 years old, married.  His bride was 20-year-old Harriet Smith and she was likely the sister of John Smith, an old friend and fellow Kentucky frontiersman of Isaac’s.  In February of 1794, Isaac died at the age of 40, supposedly from complications of a wound he sustained from an Indian attack while working on his farm.  He left Harriet with four small children.  

My Hite ancestors continued to live on the Cave Springs Plantation property for several more generation until  they sold it to the State of Kentucky in 1869.  The state built a “lunatic asylum” which is known today as Central State (psychiatric) Hospital.

I wasn’t always so interested in family history.  My first taste of genealogy was about 40 years ago.  The DAR planned to install grave markers at the graves of Abraham Hite, Jr. and Abraham Hite Sr. (Isaac’s brother and father) in the small Hite family graveyard off Starlite Lane in Louisville.  A small ceremony was planned and it was decided that two young descendants of Abraham Hite Sr. would unveil the new markers.  I was chosen to be one of the children to do this, and so that spring day I was dressed up, white gloves and all, for the occasion.  I was still in my tomboy phase so this was NOT something I wanted to do, despite my mother’s proud excitement.  We arrived at the location and traipsed across the field to the cemetery.  I was sullen and disinterested (see pictures below).  Then, I discovered my first taste of genealogical interconnectedness.  The other child turned out to be David Beckley, a kid from my class at school!  

My interest in genealogy and the Hite family is quite different after 40 years.  Who would have guessed, if they had seen my sour face that day?

Col. Abraham HITE- Isaac HITE- Jacob HITE- Robert Ormsby HITE- Eleanor HITE- Goslee GEIGER- Thomas GEIGER- Elizabeth GEIGER- me

-Mary

In July 2013 I visited the vicinity of Hite's land "Fountain Bleu" and took these photos:




UPDATE June 2015: The mystery of Harriet Smith's ancestry seems to have been solved! I discovered a clue in the obit for her son James Bridgeford. Message me if you are someone who is researching this line and I will give you more information. Harriet and John Smith (husband of Eleanor Greene) were siblings. Another early Kentuckian, Dr. Maj. Nathan Smith was also their brother. Their parents were William Smith and Elizabeth Rigby of Maryland. Paternal grandparents William Smith & Elizabeth Martin. Maternal grandparents Nathaniel Rigby and Cassandra Coale.




Daniel Boone-- Kentucky Pioneers

I recently finished reading Robert Morgan’s biography of Daniel Boone.  As you might suspect, the real Daniel Boone was quite unlike the character portrayed in film.  According to Morgan, he didn’t even wear that iconic coonskin cap.  But, reading the book motivated me to revisit the history of my own ancestors who had moved to Kentucky in those early days.  I began a list of those I knew had migrated to Kentucky before 1800 and was surprised that the list added up to over 16.  Just to give you a little perspective, Daniel Boone first visited Kentucky in about 1769.  He wasn’t the first white in that part of the country; others had done some exploring and hunting before this date.  But, Boone's association with the exploration and settlement of Kentucky is set in our cultural history.  Boone became famous for this association, in America and Europe even during his own lifetime.  In our culture, Boone represents an image of the typical early frontiersman.   By 1775 Boone and a crew of men were hacking a path through the Cumberland Gap, just months ahead of a group that were to begin the settlement of Boonesboro.  Boone’s life took many twists and turns and I encourage you to read the book as it is an excellent portrait of a man who was an expert when it came to the outdoors, but a dismal failure in most matters of business.

The earliest Kentucky settlements, called forts or stations, were especially vulnerable.  The small communities were far from supplies and subject to frequent Indian attacks instigated and fueled by the British.  A system of protection of the settlers was still being formulated.   The British desired to keep colonial settlement out of these interior lands, and supplied guns and offered scalp bounties to tribes who would help them achieve this goal.  If these early settlements had failed it is very possible that the region might have been lost to the British in the final settlement of the Revolutionary War.  We all learned that the surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown was in October of 1781, but the Treaty of Paris that officially ended the Americana Revolution was not signed until September of 1783.  In between those two dates skirmishes were still prevalent along the frontier.  One of the last battles of the Revolution, the Battle of Blue Licks, was fought in Kentucky in August of 1782.  In that battle about 50 British rangers along with 300 American Indians ambushed 182 Kentucky militiamen, killing 72.  Boone was there, and his son died in the attack.  According to Morgan’s biography just the mention of this battle would bring Daniel Boone to tears even years later. 

Because of the hardships and dangers, many who initially trekked to Kentucky, returned to their former homes in Virginia and the Carolinas, but whether due to stubbornness or desperation for economic advancement, enough stayed on to establish a foothold in this wilderness.  These earliest settlers moved into the north central part of the state, known as the Bluegrass, seeking to take advantage of its fertile farmland.  Game was also abundant, especially in the early years.  Herds of buffalo roamed the interior meadows and vast cane fields.  One explorer noted seeing a herd of at least 1,500 at a salt spring.  But, once the population of Kentucky began to multiply, game became scarce and 1820 marked the last time buffalo were even seen in the state.  Settlers started pouring into Kentucky after the Revolution, and by the first U.S. Census in 1790 approximately 74,000 people lived in this part of what was then a county of the state of Virginia.  In 1792 Kentucky became our 15th state.

Isaac Hite was my first ancestor to have entered Kentucky.  He is my 5th great grandfather.  He was one of the first surveyors in Kentucky and knew many of the persons we associate with the early Kentucky frontier, including Daniel Boone, John Floyd, James Harrod and George Rogers Clark. 

-Mary 

Boone: A Biography, by Robert Morgan

The Real Story Of Our First Date- Part 1

During the summer of 1978 Doug and I were part of the Southern Illinois University archaeological field school.  For archaeologists, field school is the place where you learn the basics of archaeological fieldwork.  Students learn how to map, excavate and take descriptive scientific notes by working on an actual archaeological site.  They also learn how to collect, process, and analyze artifacts.  I was one of the 10 undergraduate students enrolled and Doug was one of the 4 graduate student assistants staffing the class.

Over the 6-week summer course we were housed in a neighborhood school in Paducah Kentucky.  Our professor, Dr. M., rented this space for the field school every summer.  We brought cots and sleeping bags and took up residence in classrooms that had been emptied of their furniture.  One of the empty classrooms was used as our archaeological field lab, the place where we processed and analyzed items from our excavations.  Dr. M. stayed in a nearby hotel. 

It is important to point out a few things at this point.  Dr. M. expected the very best behavior from all of us because we were representatives of the university, and his stellar reputation as a good steward of the school while we were in residence, must be maintained.  For this reason, there was one very important rule: No drinking was allowed at the school.  None!!  And, Dr. M. also advised the graduate student assistants against any romantic liaisons with the undergraduate students.

Each day we would drive across the Ohio River, over the old blue bridge, to the southern tip of Illinois, where our archaeological site was located.  We were excavating Mississippian mound builder sites in an area known as the Black Bottoms of Illinois.  These bottomlands, which are filled with rich and fertile soil, are largely covered with agricultural fields.  Our excavation “squares” were in the middle of fields that were planted in corn and soybeans which grew around us as the summer wore on.  As expected, it was very hot and humid.  We drank lots of water and took salt tablets to combat our sodium depletion.  At the end of most days in the field, Dr. M. let us stop on the drive home to have a cold beer at the bar/café in Brookport, IL,  before we crossed the blue bridge back to Kentucky.  Perhaps he thought if he did that, then we’d be less likely to drink and party back at the school.  It worked; a cold beer or two at the end of a hot day was a welcome satisfaction.  By the time we got back to the school, we were exhausted.

Now I’ll jump forward to the last day of field school.  On this last day our task was to thoroughly clean the school, where we had been living.  It was to be spotless!  Dr. M. needed to be able to swing this same deal of renting the school year after year, so again his reputation was on the line.  We spent the day scrubbing floors and bathrooms, packing equipment and materials, and basically trying to leave the facility as clean as we possibly could.  These exhausting tasks took us into the early evening.  

Doug and I had not been romantically involved during the summer, but had been increasingly drawn toward each other as the summer field school came to a close.  Yes, we are finally getting to the “first date” story.  After all this cleaning and packing one of us suggested to the other that perhaps we should go out together and get a few bottles of beer to enjoy.  We headed out in the dark with my car, an old green Plymouth Scamp, to procure the beer.  But, it had begun to rain and it was soon discovered that the windshield wipers on my car, affectionately know as the “green bomber”, were not working.  After only going a short way we returned to the school.  Doug had a solution; he had a key to one of the university’s leased “carryall” trucks that we had used all summer.  So, it was decided that we would take one of those vehicles for our mission.  I know---you’re already saying that perhaps this was not a good idea.

We drove to a local store, purchased a 6-pack of Cook’s beer, one of the most inexpensive beers they sold in Paducah.  I expect that initially our plan was to return to the school where we would drink the beer.  But, we must have considered that important rule of Dr. M.’s that there was to be no drinking at the school.  All those lectures about the importance of maintaining Dr. M.’s reputation in the community, must have nagged at our conscience.  Of course, there had been some in the group that had broken this rule.  But we were, by and large, rule followers and there was a chance that Dr. M. might return that evening to inspect our final cleaning and packing work.  So instead, we drove to a local city park, but discovered it filled with partying teens, and decided that was not a wise place to be.  

Ok, we thought, we’ll drive across the blue bridge over to the farmland area where we had been working all summer and just find a little spot to pull off near the river, where we could just talk, have a couple of beers, and later return back to the school.  So, that’s what we did.  Across the blue bridge we went, down the levy road and off onto a little pullout looking over the mighty Ohio River.  No one was in sight. It had stopped raining and it was quiet and serene. We popped open a couple of cans of the Cook’s beer, which had remained unopened until now, and took our first cool sips as we looked out to the river.  About 3 sips later, we heard sirens, and saw flashing lights as several police cars screeched to a stop close behind us.

-Mary


Doug and Dr. M.- Black Bottoms Field School-1978



Excavations in the soybean field- Black Bottoms Field School 1978



Doug- Black Bottoms Field School 1978



The "Blue Bridge" over the Ohio River

The Real Story Of Our First Date-- Part 2

You might remember that as I left on Part 1, a couple of cop cars, with flashing lights, had pulled up behind us as we were parked by the Ohio River.  Here is what happened next.

We were ordered out of the vehicle.  This was serious business for these young small town cops.  Doug and I were separated and questioned there in the dark hot night.  What were we doing?  Why were we here?  The vehicle was searched thoroughly, and great care was taken in the inspection of each cigarette butt in the ash container.  Foreign and hand rolled cigarettes had been popular that summer with a number of the students.  Inspection found no marijuana, much to the officers’ disappointment I suspect.  One officer asked to inspect the contents of my purse, which I refused out of spite.  We were then loaded into separate police cars and driven to the county police office.

The police department in Massac County Illinois was located in the basement of the county courthouse.  I suspect that it still is, although I have never been back.  The courthouse stood in the center of a central town square of the county seat, small town Metropolis.  Just outside the courthouse was a giant statue of the town’s most famous “fictional resident”, Superman.  Yes, Metropolis claims to be the “home” of Superman.  But the real Superman was not there to rescue us that night as we were hauled down the steps and into the police headquarters.  All was quiet there; we were the excitement for the evening.  We were not actually charged with any type of crime, ours' was a "traffic violation", but we were told that we must pay a fine for our offense.  The offence being that we had open containers of alcohol in our parked vehicle.  Remember the two Cook’s beer that we’d only taken a couple of sips from?  OK, we said, how much?  The fine was $25 with a added processing fee of $10.  We both pulled out our checkbooks, happy that the ordeal would soon be over.  But, the Massac County police department would only take cash, or so we were told.  We didn't have quite enough cash on us to pay the fees.  By now it was very late in the evening.  

Doug used our allotted phone call to wake Dr. M., and ask if he could come get us and bring the cash to pay our fine.  Dr. M. told Doug that he would come in the morning.  So, without a way to pay the fine, on the spot in cash, we were told that we would have to spend the night in jail.  Doug was quickly ushered up to the jail, which was located on the top floor of the old courthouse.  I was told that I must remain in the basement with the other officers until a female officer could be brought in to search me. 

They must have roused this female “officer” from sleep, because it took over an hour for her to arrive.  For all I know she might have just been a court employee, because this didn’t seem like the kind of place that would have female police officers in the late 70’s.  While I waited, the young male officers proceeded to verbally harass me.  I felt like I was a character in a B movie about redneck small town cops.   I ignored and refused to engage in their crude banter.  But, it taught me the important lesson that police officers are capable of misusing their position and power.  The "female officer" eventually arrived and took me in another room to be strip-searched.  Did I really look that dangerous? 

I was then taken up to the jail and told that I would stay in the “maximum security cell” since there was no separate jail for women.  Pretty funny, considering that Doug and I were the only jail occupants that night.  We passed a line of empty jail cells that looked just as I might have imagined from what I had seen on old  TV shows, like Andy Griffith.  Doug was sound asleep as I passed his cell.  My cell, at the end, was a large room with several bunk beds.  Instead of bars, the room was completely enclosed and had a heavy white door that was slammed shut after I entered.  I remember that there was a slot in the door for food to be handed in to the occupant.  I don’t think I slept.  All I could think about was how to get out.  Dr. M. arrived in the morning, paid our fee, and took us back to the school.  It was a long ride.  I don’t remember that he lectured much or even raised his voice.  He didn’t need to, we both felt awful and embarrassed.

The thing that helped our reputations in this whole fiasco was that, I think, Doug and I were thought to be the least likely to have gotten into such trouble.  So, secretly, I think Dr. M.  and everyone else were amused, although they could never let us know that.  As far as I know the incident didn’t get out among the local community where the field school was held, and so Dr. M.’s reputation was not ruined.  He seemed quick to forgive and the following fall semester, gave me my first student job in his archaeology lab.  He continued to be Doug’s graduate student advisor and mentor him on to a PhD in Anthropology.

Are you wondering what my parents thought about all this?  Yes, I did tell them.  The Thanksgiving holiday after this summer, I brought Doug home, to Pewee Valley, Kentucky, to meet my family.  We arrived in the late afternoon.  As Doug sat down at the kitchen table, my mother casually asked him if he’d like a cold beer.  “Sure”, he said, “Thanks.”  She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a can of Cook’s beer, which she handed to him.  It took him a few seconds to realize the joke.  My mom had a great sense of humor!  She must have gone all over town to find Cook’s beer, because I had never remembered seeing it around in our part of the state.

Doug and I married a few years after this unfortunate incident.  We think we have a “first date” story that few can top.  

-Mary

p.s. I've never gotten in trouble since..... not even a parking fine or speeding ticket!

p.s.s. I found the paperwork I had kept.  The fine was $35, I was in possession of $22 cash, so I was close to being able to pay the fine.  Certainly it was probably illegal to have kept us in jail overnight for inability to pay a traffic violation in cash on the spot!  I write this today 40 year after the event!  Still married, still in love, and now grandparents!!



Massac County Courthouse and Jail in Metropolis, IL, with statue of Superman.


Doug and I being pelted with rice after our wedding in 1981.  Note the six-pack of Cook's beer that we were given as a gift.


Hungry People Feeding Me

Over the last several months I’ve been spending my Wednesdays volunteering at a food bank in downtown Sacramento.  After years of doing volunteer work in the schools, I knew I needed to have some regular volunteer gig lined up to fill at least some of my available time, but it took me almost three years to finally decide what that volunteer work would be.  Maybe I just needed a break, or felt deserving of retirement.  Maybe I was being lazy.  But, I think it was perhaps the fact that I’d begun to do some volunteer tasks I didn't like, which taught me the importance of not signing up for just anything because I had the time.  I needed to find something that fit my particular strengths or as church folks like to say “gifts.”    

A friend of mine is the executive director of River City Food Bank, a Sacramento food bank that is largely a volunteer manned operation near Sutter Fort in Sacramento.  I approached her after reading that they needed what was described as an “intake volunteer.”  It seemed to fit what I was looking for, which was a task that would put me in direct contact with people needing help.  So, I signed up to help out on Wednesdays.

I showed up for my work on that first morning and was quickly trained on how to process the folks who come to the food closet.   Soon, I was on my own, begging forgiveness for my slowness to all I served that day.  Here is how it works.  The doors open at 11:30 and by that time, on busy days, people are lined up outside our little headquarters, a former house on 27th street.  On a first come, first served arrangement the “clients” (folks needing food) wait until one of us (usually there are two intake volunteers), is ready to process their information.  Most of these people have been in before, so their information has already been entered into our rudimentary computer system.  Identification is required of each person and for members of their household needing food.  But, we aren’t overly rigid about the ID’s and even if they have nothing, we don’t send them away without some food, we just note it on their file and direct them to services that do provide help with getting an ID.  After checking them in, the computer sends a food order to the small back room where we store the food and the volunteers back there package up what we consider a 3 day emergency supply of food for each member of the household.  In the case of a single individual, I just head back there myself and put the bags of food together.  Unlike many neighborhood food closets that will only serve certain zip codes, we give food to anyone in Sacramento County who needs it, but clients can only come in once each calendar month to receive food.

The food we give out is slightly different each week.  It comes from a variety of sources including the USDA commodities program, Sacramento Food Link, Senior Gleaners, local church and organizational can food drives, and local businesses.  Occasionally we have stacks of little Pizza Hut personal pizzas that we freeze and pass out and I just assume that they are donated when Pizza Hut makes an overabundance of them for a lunch crowd that ends up lighter than expected.  The staples that we try to provide are the basics of bread, soup, vegetables, fruit, eggs, oatmeal, tuna, peanut butter, rice, beans and pasta.  Sometimes there is meat but not always.  There is an emphasis on nutrition, and during the summer we encourage local home gardeners to grow extra and donate their excess produce.

But this story is really meant to be about connecting with others so let me return to that theme.  This is the part I most enjoy and I must admit that since I had never worked with the needy before, I wondered if this really would be the right job for me.  Thankfully it was!  Did you notice that earlier I referred to these folks as “clients”?  Well, that is how they are officially referred to at the food closet.  I like that because right from the start it put me in the position and mindset of serving.  So, each Wednesday I place it as my goal to serve with kindness and respect each person who sits down at my desk.  I ask them about their day, admire their children, note if they have a birthday coming up and listen to their difficulties with sympathy.  I just try to get to know them during their moments sitting on the other side of my desk.  It is really a joy and each person is different.  The majority are not homeless, they have homes and often jobs, but just have a hard time making ends meet.  Many are grandparents who are taking care of their grandchildren.  Some are elderly.  There are a few who have obvious mental illnesses and they can be difficult to communicate with but nevertheless respond to kindness.  Some are homeless, dirty and disheveled.  I’ve seen a few so hungry that they opened their food right there in our little waiting room to eat out of the can.  And, some are picky eaters who tell me what they can and can’t have to eat, as if we were a grocery store and they could pick and choose.  I explain to them that there really isn’t much variety back there in the storeroom.  We offer them what choices we can like white or wheat bread.    Sometimes they will even look through their bags before leaving and give us back food that they know they won’t use.  One lady handed me back a jar of peanut butter, saying that she still had some at home and to please give it to someone else who needed food.

The best thing about the job is that I’m not a gatekeeper.  I don’t have to decide who qualifies for this help.  I am there just to serve the clients who walk through those doors.  They are my customers and I spend my time there working hard to gain their respect and satisfaction.  I know it sounds a bit crazy, like I’m vying for a superior rating on some retail customer satisfaction report.  But, for me it is really an important assignment and perhaps on those Wednesdays the benefit I receive is more than that of the clients.  For that day, I put aside judgment, something most of us struggle with.   The result is incredibly freeing and challenges me to transfer this behavior to other parts of my life.  When we close our doors at 3 PM, I am usually exhausted, but incredibly satisfied, thanking God for using these poor and hungry people to help me learn some important lessons I should have learned long ago.      

-Mary

A Red House, Three Husbands, and Lots Of Red Tape

Magdalene Woods was said to have been strikingly beautiful, a tall woman with long blond hair, dazzling white skin and blue eyes.  She was known to have a witty tongue.   Apparently, she possessed high intelligence and abundant personal charm.  There is one description of her riding a black stallion, dressed in a hunter’s green riding coat sporting gold buttons, and a bonnet with many plumes atop her head.  Born in Meath County, Ireland about 1716, she traveled with her family as a young girl to the New World, settling first in Pennsylvania and then spending most of her adult life in the lower Valley of Virginia.

Magdalene’s first husband was John McDowell, whom she wed in about 1734.  They were married in Pennsylvania, but three years later, they made their way into the northern Valley of Virginia, traveling with an extended family group.  Much of the Valley of Virginia, situated as it is between the Blue Ridge Mountains and the Alleghenies, had just begun to be settled at this time.  The McDowells had a relation, John Lewis, who had settled in an area called Beverly’s Manor near present day Staunton.   It is presumed that the McDowell group was also planning to settle in this area.   About a day before they reached the home of John Lewis they encountered a man by the name of Benjamin Borden.  Borden, a New Jersey native, asked if he could share their camp for the night.  The party agreed and over the course of the evening he told them about the large grant of land he had obtained from the colonial governor of Virginia.  The grant was located south of the Beverly Grant, in an area near present day Lexington, Virginia.   The problem Borden faced, as he related to the group, was that he was unsure how to locate the land correctly.  Doubts were apparently cast by the group, as to the validity of his claim to such a large grant of land.   But, he presented them the legal documents that backed up his story.  Borden then offered 1,000 acres to any in the group who would guide him to his property.  John McDowell promptly pulled out survey equipment that he had brought, and convinced Borden that he could indeed accomplish the task of locating the land.  

The next morning the group moved on to the John Lewis residence and there drew up official papers testifying to the agreement between Benjamin Borden and John McDowell.  Others in the area were informed of the new Borden Grant and Borden encouraged them to locate there.  Any settler, who came and built a cabin, would be given 100 acres of free land.  These were known as “cabin rights.”  As a patentee Borden was required to get settlers onto the land in order for him to receive his own full allotment.  It appears that for every family that settled onto the Borden Grant, Benjamin Borden himself would be entitled to 1000 acres.  So, in effect the grantee acted as a land agent and promoter. 

Within two years 92 cabins were erected in Borden’s Grant.  This translated into 92,000 acres of free land for Borden!  Of course like any big business deal, as we have especially seen recently, there is always room for corruption.  Some settlers built multiple cabins in order to increase their holdings, claiming the 100 acres for each.   One man apparently sent his servant girl to go from cabin to cabin when an accounting was made.  She is said to have dressed as a man and although she used the same surname at each cabin, she changed “her” first name, causing suspicion when no one could recall that there were that many families with the same last name in the area.  It is quite possible that Borden, aware of these schemes, looked the other way, since the additional “cabin rights” claimed increased his own holdings.  The other tricky thing and a bit of a problem for many was the paying of quit rents.  Quit rents were kind of like property taxes, and although they were suspended during the first two years of the settlement, after that they were difficult to collect.  Some of the new landowners raised the money for the quit rents by sending butter and other goods to the large markets in Virginia cities, and some just didn’t pay.  The system of quit rents is difficult to understand but it seems as if initially it was Borden’s task to collect these rents.  It also became a burden for Borden who had quit rents due on the property that he had been granted.  Of course an important source of income for Borden was the sale of his own land, which helped pay the quit rents.  But as sales of Borden’s lands became less brisk, the payment of quit rents on his large land holdings became difficult. 

John McDowell and his lovely wife Magdalene chose an area of land near present day Lexington, Virginia.  There they built their log cabin in a style that was unusual for the times.  The bark was stripped from the logs and then the logs were stained red with either ocher or berries.  It was thereafter known as the “Red House.”  Why the McDowells decided to do this is beyond understanding and I have read of no other similar practice among pioneers in any of the colonies.  Maybe Magdalene just like the color red.  

A couple of years after the McDowells were settled in the red house, there was a conflict between the settlers and some local Indians.  John McDowell was killed in this conflict that took place in mid December of 1742.  His body, stripped and scalped, was collected by his surviving colleagues the next day and returned to the Red House.  This left Magdalene a widow at the age of about 26.  She had five young children.  We know nothing about how Magdalene dealt with her husband’s death, but it is presumed that the various relatives that lived nearby lent a hand and helped her through the tragedy.  

In 1743, Benjamin Borden Sr. died. He left several heirs, including a wife who had remained in Rhode Island.  His oldest son Benjamin Jr. took control of the real estate interests in Virginia and began to try to settle his father’s estate.  This was no easy task!   Tangled up in this complex estate were the various properties and land deals, the overdue quit rents, and the beginnings of disputes concerning land ownership.  Apparently Benjamin Sr. often did not provide buyers with signed deeds until they had completed their payment to him, and this was the cause of a number of disputed titles and lawsuits.  Those who claimed that according to deals made with Benjamin Sr., they owned land despite the lack of an official title sued Benjamin Jr. in an attempt to keep their land.  And, there were lawsuits initiated by Benjamin Jr., against landowners who had not finished paying for their property.  I believe that there were further law suits between Benjamin Jr. and his siblings.  

Soon after Benjamin Jr. returned to Virginia to take charge of the Borden grant, he became Magdalene’s second husband.  The marriage was a surprise to some, because when Benjamin Jr. had visited the area a few years earlier, and actually stayed with the McDowell family, Magdalene had let others know that she didn’t think too highly of him and even remarked that she thought him “quite illiterate.”  Well, perspectives change and circumstances can color one’s views.  Benjamin Borden Jr., now in control of much of the Borden Grant, was possibly the wealthiest man around.  And the reality was that most widows on the frontier did not stay unmarried for long.  Life was just too hard to survive without the partnership of a marriage.  The couple continued to live in the red house near Timber Ridge.

In May of 1746, Magdalene gave birth their first daughter, Martha Borden.  In 1753 another daughter, Hannah was born.  But that year brought tragedy when a smallpox epidemic broke out across the area.  Smallpox, an infectious virus, has been eradicated in our lifetime, but back in those days it meant almost certain death for many.   Benjamin Borden Jr., was the first of the family to contract the disease.   His younger brother Joseph Borden, who was staying with the family, was struck also.  Some of the McDowell children and both Martha and baby Hannah Borden also were afflicted.  Magdalene’s sister in law, Mary McDowell Greenlee, came to nurse the family, but both Benjamin Borden Jr. and his baby daughter Hannah perished. 

Once again Magdalene was a frontier widow, but this time she was left with a substantial inheritance.  Some say, that at this time, she was the wealthiest woman in Virginia, but that claim is hard to prove.  She was certainly land rich, but as we have learned recently land value is closely tied to demand.   Because of the Borden Grant land deeds and deals, and the past due quit rents, the estate was still a complicated mess.  The best land parcels, of Borden’s allotment, had been sold in earlier years.  The remaining unsold portions, even though they totaled a vast amount of acreage, were not the most desirable for settlement.   I suspect that it must have been overwhelming for Magdalene, despite her intelligence and fortitude.

In 1753, several months after the smallpox deaths, a new schoolteacher arrived in the area.  His name was John Bowyer and apparently he came possessing only a horse and the few clothes he carried.  He was probably about 20 years old when he starting teaching in Borden’s Grant.  He taught school for only several months, but seems to have been busy during that time wooing the widow Magdalene, who was getting close to 40 years old.  Remember that she was supposedly quite a beautiful woman, and I would guess that her newly inherited wealth might have also contributed to his interest in her.  

John Bowyer became Magdalene’s third husband in February of 1754.   The gossip about their age difference was likely fierce.   There is a story that before the marriage Magdalene had the young John Bowyer sign what we would call a “pre-nup” today.  She wanted to insure that her children would get a portion of her vast wealth if she should die.  It is also rumored that John Bowyer at some point after the marriage grabbed this document from her hands and threw it into a blazing fireplace.  

Like today, money often buys power and prestige.  After the marriage, John Bowyer took control of the tangled Borden estate affairs and some believed he conducted matters to his own greedy advantage.  He eventually qualified as the captain of the militia and later was granted the rank of Colonel.  He also became one of the justices of the county. 

In 1759, 14-year-old Martha Borden chose John Bowyer as her legal guardian even though some in the community gave court testimony warning her that to do so would be foolish, as John Bowyer would certainly waste her rightful inheritance to her father’s estate.  In 1764, at the age of 17, Martha Borden married Benjamin Hawkins.  John Bowyer paid Benjamin Hawkins a sum of money at the time of this marriage; apparently this was Martha’s share of Benjamin Borden Jr.’s estate.  It is possible that the couple was also given some of the unsold Borden estate lands also.   Later, after being widowed, Martha Borden Hawkins married Robert Harvey.

The red tape comes in the form of several lawsuits that were initiated over the following years.  Joseph Borden and his sister Lydia Peck brought suit against Martha (Borden) and Robert Harvey for lands they thought were entitled to them from their father, Benjamin Borden Sr.’s estate.   Martha and Robert Harvey, along with some of Madalene’s “McDowell” children, sued John Bowyer for property they thought was due them from their mother’s estate.  There were other suits that pertained to property that was in the original Borden Grant and many of these legal battles lasted years.

Meanwhile what happened to Magdalene?  Did she regret her marriage to the young John Bowyer?  Was she estranged from her daughter Martha and her McDowell children who clearly did not look favorably upon her husband? 

We don’t know the exact date of her death but it is likely that Magdalene died sometime between 1790 and 1804.  It is said that she was an elderly woman when she died and some say that she was over 100, but I think it more likely that she was in her 80’s at the time of her death.  Some thought that if Bowyer had married Magdalene hoping she would soon die and leave him a rich man for the remainder of his life, then she proved him wrong by her long life.   We do know that in 1792 John Bowyer built a large 2-story home, Thorn Hill.  I have discovered no records to indicate if Magdalene was still alive at this time.  I'd like to believe that she did get to live here, at least for a while, as surely it would have been an improvement over the red log cabin.   One source says that John Bowyer married a second time after Magdalene’s death.  John Bowyer died in 1806.  He left no blood descendants and his estate was divided among his extended Bowyer family.  His nephew inherited the Thorn Hill property and lived there for many years.  For those of you who might win the lottery in the coming weeks, Thorn Hill is up for sale.  The asking price is about 2.9 million for this 17-acre estate, which is listed on the National Register of Historic Properties.

I have found no record or reference as to the burial place of Magdalene.  It seems like such a formidable woman should have a beautiful tombstone but it looks as if none exists.  She had a number of notable descendants, including her son Samuel McDowell who moved to Kentucky, served as a judge and presided over most of that state’s constitutional conventions.  A grandson, Dr. Ephraim McDowell was one of Kentucky’s most famous pioneering surgeons.  A great grandson, James McDowell, became Virginia’s 25th governor.

Some day I'd love to visit this area of Virginia where Magdalene lived and stop and see the sign that marks the site of the old "Red House."  And if I do, I'll try to imagine Magdalene riding her black stallion across the rolling green hills.   A strong and beautiful pioneer woman who created her own destiny from the experiences life threw at her.

-Mary

Like much of history, there are various versions of this story.  Perspective often depends on the teller of the story.  Much of our information about the Borden Grant and Magdalene comes from testimony given during the various court cases.  A wealth of descriptive detail is revealed in the testimony of Magdalene’s sister in law Mary McDowell Greenlee, a woman with her own colorful past and also a woman with strong opinions.  Imagine how others, friends and family, might tell your story and the ways those versions might differ from your own recounting.


I am Magdalene’s 6th G granddaughter:
Magdalene Woods & Benjamin Borden---Martha Borden & Benjamin Hawkins--- Sarah Hawkins & William T. Mitchell---Thomas Mitchell & Mildred A. Julian---Thomas P. Mitchell & Hannah Burton --- Florence N. Mitchell & Goslee Geiger --- Thomas Mitchell & Emma Fairleigh (my grandparents)