Back to Our Roots

Friday, November 04, 2011 Road Junkies 0 Comments

DIGGING FOR OUR ROOTS, Chapter 5:

IN WHICH WE RENEW TIES WITH ALMOST KIN

Days 4-5: Blytheville, AR to Jackson, TN to Vernon, AL. Having accomplished our goal in Blytheville, it was time to move on to Tennessee and the area where Clara and her Mr. Wright wed in 1902. When we explored the Lauderdale County area in the spring of last year, we located some sites we wanted to share with Mother.

Because the mighty Mississippi River is so wide, though, we had to drive north to Missouri to reach the nearest crossing. At the state border with Arkansas, we were met with a curious sight.

Forty years before St. Louis built its famous landmark, the Highway 61 arch was erected at the Arkansas-Missouri border in 1924 (pictured above). The construction marked the completion of paving of the first stretch of highway through Mississippi County, Arkansas. Previously known simply as the north-south road, the dirt path that was to become US-61 had been been the primary route from St. Louis to Memphis in the days before the automobile. With the advent of the car, federal funding provided the means to improve the road.

Although a great improvement over the often muddy track it replaced, the road was victim of poor planning. With little existing knowledge to draw from, planners poured a continuous concrete ribbon with no expansion joints. As a result, chunks of concrete would break and pile up when the road expanded in summer. The arch created its own problems, most notably preventing the future widening of the road. Fortunately for the preservationists, the arrival of interstate highways diverted most traffic from US-61 and ensured the arch's survival.

Caruthersville Bridge

After crossing into Tennessee on I-155 and the cantilevered Caruthersville Bridge, the only span across the Mississippi River between Memphis and Cairo, Illinois, we headed for the tiny town of Henning (pop. 970), where, like Alex Haley, we traced some of our roots. With Mother we revisited the Bethlehem Cemetery and the burial place of Clara's foster parents, the Ruckers.

Though we arrived after hours, we also drove Mother by the Alex Haley childhood home and museum in the town of Henning. (Interestingly, Glen, the monument maker we met in Blytheville, had designed and built the Alex Haley memorial in front of the house, where the famous author is buried.)

Alex Haley home in Henning

And no trip to Henning would be complete without a stop at the home of our "adopted cousins," Frank and Pat. Frank is the great nephew of Clara's foster mother and, as such, we consider this lovely couple our "kin" and wanted to introduce them to our mother.

Just as they had before, Frank and Pat welcomed us with open arms to their gracious home built by Frank's great grandfather just after the Civil War. We enjoyed coffee and an intimate visit in their warm kitchen before continuing on our way.

Socializing with the Kellers

An overnight stay in Jackson, TN, and we were on the road early so that Jeanne could arrive home in time to see her sweetheart before he had to leave town for a football game. All three of us agreed that we could not have had a better trip.

Bidding farewell

The weather was beautiful, the temperatures perfectly comfortable, and the companionship wonderful. Interestingly, it didn't strike us until near the end of the trip that Mother and her sister Claire had made a similar sojourn with their mother, Clara's daughter, when she was just about the age that Mother is now. Ahhh...full circle.

THURSDAY, 3 NOVEMBER—FRIDAY, 4 NOVEMBER 2011

Alex Haley Museum in Henning

The gracious Frank and Pat

So glad she's home

The porch Jeanne and Don built themselves. Wow!

In Quest of the Needle

Thursday, November 03, 2011 Road Junkies 0 Comments

DIGGING FOR OUR ROOTS, Chapter 4:

IN WHICH WE'RE NOT BLITHE ABOUT BLYTHEVILLE

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Days 3-4: Monticello, AR to Blytheville, AR. At last, we made it to the city which might hold the answer to Jeanne's quest for the names of our great great grandparents. With a surname like Miller and no first names, we would definitely be searching for the proverbial needle in a haystack. We were also looking for Clara's brother Willie, a teen victim of an accidental gunshot, according to family oral history.

Where to begin? Unless you've had the need to search for such things, you may not realize that cemeteries are not all listed in the yellow pages. Nor are they a featured point of interest on most GPS devices. Our Jeanne-e-ologist, of course, came prepared with a list of cemeteries in the Blytheville area that she had printed from the Internet. No addresses, but she had GPS coordinates. There were a dozen or so in the immediate Blytheville area, some of which had hundreds of interments.

Then our first lightning bolt of genius struck. Mother suggested that a local funeral home would know which cemeteries had graves from the late 1800s (our date range) and which were newer. Bingo! We stopped at a local mortuary and were advised to try Sandy Ridge Cemetery (pictured above) in the nearby Luxora community and downtown Blytheville's Maple Grove.

We drove into Sandy Ridge first. Not being as genealogically inclined and savvy as my sister, I pondered over an efficient way to search for the Miller markers. I thought my strategy might be the day's second stroke of genius.

No Millers on the third row...

I was quickly informed that a more hands-on, or rather feet down, approach would be needed. Jeanne instructed us to look for an angel or a lamb, which she had heard might be on brother Willie's grave. If we could find a Willie Miller who died in the right date range, maybe we would be able to access some records that would tell us his parents' names. No luck at Sandy Ridge on either Willie or Miller candidates in the needed time frame. On to Maple Grove.

McHaney Monuments on S. Division Street

Before we could reach the downtown graveyard, we passed McHaney Monuments on the main street into the downtown area. "Stop!" Sister J exclaimed. "Aunt Ada's daughter-in-law told me that the mother's grave had a carving of an angel holding an infant. If anyone would remember seeing something like that in a local cemetery, it would be someone who creates monuments."

Though our question might have seemed a bit odd to some, the avuncular Glen Whitener, a certified memorialist at McHaney, didn't hesitate to dive in and try to help. With many years experience in this family business that originated when Woodrow Wilson was President, Glen was a wellspring of information about burial places in the area. Though his records did not go back far enough to include our Millers, his knowledge about local cemetery history was priceless. He even had a list of interments for a historical cemetery which had become part of an Army air base in the 1940s. Stopping to visit McHaney was definitely the second stroke of genius for the day.

As we were leaving, Glen gave us what may have been the best advice of our investigation. As he handed us a business card, he suggested, "If you aren't able to locate the marker you're searching for and you want to keep the family legend alive, I can create that marker for you."

Where are you, Willie?

Without Glen's guidance, we would never have known to look behind the city's public library. When a small abandoned cemetery from the late 1800s was discovered overgrown with bushes and briars in the 1940s, a group of people cleaned it up and preserved the remnants of the scattered and broken stones. Eventually the markers were installed on the lawn of the library.

After the old Sawyer markers failed to yield a single Miller, we made our way to Maple Grove Cemetery in downtown Blytheville. Even though the sign at the graveyard's entrance indicated it was opened after 1900, we spent some time examining the markers there.

Jeanne-e-ologist at work

Calling it a day, we enjoyed a very tasty meal at the local Holiday Inn's Bistro Eleven 21 and rested up to continue combing Blytheville the following day. We were determined to leave no stone (or headstone) unturned before leaving this town.

Researchers at work

The following morning found us in the Arkansas history room of the Blytheville Public Library. The local newspaper records we were hoping to examine for the late 1800s did not exist, so we scoured other relevant publications in hopes of picking up some thread. The one profitable lead we uncovered was a reference to Blytheville's LDS Family History Center, the first we had heard of this resource, which was our next destination.

Frances at the LDS Family History Center

In keeping with the renowned Morman dedication to preserving genealogical records, Family History Centers are branch facilities of the LDS Family History Library in Salt Lake City. Local centers provide access to most of the microfilms and microfiche in Salt Lake facility as well as assistance to help patrons identify their ancestors. Everyone is welcome to use these resources, whether church members or not.

Our guiding angel at the LDS center was the very cordial and helpful Frances, who truly put the "genial" in our genealogy search. With her assistance, we finally made some headway in our quest. In some of the records she searched, Frances located a family with children having most of the same names as Clara and her siblings. The dates looked right. Frances was confident.

Maybe we found our needle after all. Lewis and Elizabeth Miller, we believe you just may be our great great grandparents. Welcome to the family.

ROAD NOISE

Political Genius: Back in the 1980s, Blytheville's then mayor visited the city of Evansville, Indiana. While there, he observed a steel arch constructed at the entrance to a brick-lined street which led to a renovated, renewed section of the city's downtown area. The good mayor decided that his town needed not one but several of these arches. Though City Council opposed the expense, Hizzoner forged ahead, refusing to reveal how deep he dug into the city coffers for his pet project. Unfortunately, the arches on Blytheville's Main Street do not have quite the same effect as Evansville's since the Arkansas arches are placed at random street corners without an appealing view through the arch

Warning— Don't Take Dining Advice from a Librarian: Since it was near lunch time when we left the Blytheville library, we asked the librarian who had been helping us to suggest a local restaurant. He highly recommended the Dixie Pig, a Blytheville institution dating back to 1923. Sister J had been hoping for an eatery worthy of Food Network's Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives, so off we went to meet the local purveyor of "old-fashioned Southern pit barbecue."

This greasy spoon won't be on TV. I'm told the meat had the consistency and taste of sawdust. This was an "add your own sauce" kind of place, and there was one bottle of thin, vinegary liquid on the table. To avoid a dose of straight vinegar, you had to shake the bottle vigorously before the other ingredients settled to the bottom. Judging by its taste, the sauce had two primary ingredients: Tabasco sauce and vinegar. Only as we were departing, having left much of the meal on the table, did Jeanne learn that an actual barbecue sauce was also available. "And by the way," the cashier informed her, "the more you shake that sauce on the table, the hotter it gets." Gee, thanks for letting us know!

WEDNESDAY, 2 NOVEMBER—THURSDAY, 3 NOVEMBER 2011

Evansville arch with view of renewed downtown.

Blytheville arch with view of random buildings

Dixie Pig's Pork

Love your shirt! (Jeanne had it first.)

All smiles before lunch was served at the Dixie Pig

Now we know why the pig is winking.


Huge oak at Sandy Ridge Cemetery

Top this Crop!

Wednesday, November 02, 2011 Road Junkies 0 Comments

DIGGING FOR OUR ROOTS, Chapter 3:

IN WHICH WE MAKE NICE WITH RICE

Day 3: Monticello, AR to Blytheville, AR. "Blytheville, Arkansas," Jeanne insisted. "Grandmother always mentioned Blytheville, Arkansas. Maybe we'll find her grandparents there." We've been talking about Blytheville for a number of years. Today we'd finally start our search there. But first we had to traverse the Arkansas Delta from Monticello northward.

If we had any doubt about the primary industry of the Delta, driving up US-63 erased all questions. This rich alluvial soil begs to be cultivated, and Arkansas farmers are glad to comply. Thanks to our mother's agricultural knowledge produced by a farm upbringing, we were able to identify and have close encounters with a variety of crops as we traveled north. space space space space

Rice, we learned, is picky about where it grows, and the Arkansas Delta has the right combination of soil and climate for commercial rice production. Traditionally, rice fields are flooded after young seedlings are planted. This not only provides irrigation but discourages the growth of weeds unable to tolerate the water and deters vermin that might offer unwanted help with the harvest. More than 90% of the rice consumed in the U.S. is cultivated domestically, and Arkansas is the nation's largest rice producer, growing almost half of the American crop. (Rice field near Wabbaseka, AR pictured above)

The area's vast rice fields, flooded in the off-season to prevent erosion and preserve soil nutrients, coupled with natural wetlands play winter host to a large population of North American mallards. The ducks and other waterfowl thrive in this hospitable resting and foraging habitat. Of course, this population attracts thousands of duck hunters annually, and a premier waterfowl sports outfitter makes its home in the area. And local young ladies vie for the honor of Queen Mallard and Junior Queen Mallard at the annual "world championship" duck-calling contest in the town of Stuttgart, named by its German immigrant founder for a familiar city back home.

Near Stuttgart, the self-proclaimed "Rice and Duck Capital of the World," our intrigue got the better of us when we came across Stratton Seed's 800,000 bushel bulk storage facility. We visited the office there to learn more. Formed by a World War II veteran in 1948 with one small seed cleaner in an old wooden rice mill, Stratton Seed Company has steadily increased its activity and capacity, becoming a major player in the seed processing industry. The company contracts with farmers in several states to grow soybean, wheat, and rice as seed crops.

Stratton Seed, Stuttgart, AR

The world's largest miller and marketer of rice for consumption is also located in the small burg of Stuttgart (pop. 9,326). Founded in 1921, Riceland Foods is an agricultural cooperative with 9,000 member farmers and sales of more than $1 billion annually.

Soybean field near Blytheville, AR

Though Arkansas may be the star of the rice industry, more than three million acres of Arkansas farmland (2.5 times the rice acreage) are devoted to the growth of soybeans, which generate only slightly less revenue than rice. Like rice farms, soybean production is concentrated in the moist alluvial plans of the eastern portion of the state. Soybeans account for 25% of Arkansas' agricultural production, but the state's output lags well behind soy hotbeds like Iowa and Illinois, putting Arkansas in 10th place in soybean production nationally.

Soybeans are harvested with large combines, which simultaneously harvest the beans and separate them from the pod. Since the green plants will clog the equipment, farmers depend on Mother Nature to kill most of the foliage with a hard freeze before the beans are harvested.

Cotton field

Another crop we saw in abundance was cotton. In the U.S., only Texas and Mississippi produce more cotton than Arkansas. From a farmer, we learned about the latest in cotton harvesting. Traditionally, picking machines have been used to pluck the cotton from the open bolls and deliver it to boll buggies pulled by tractors. The buggies carted the cotton to stationary module builders set up in the field to bale the cotton.

Now there's a picker machine that does the work of all those, compressing and baling the cotton as it goes and dropping the bales at the end of rows to be picked up for transport to the gin. No boll buggies, no tractors, no module builders, no tarping and no employees to operate the equipment. One person can do it all. And this incredible machine can be had for only $700,000.

$700,000

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Sticker shock? Not when you consider the cost of the buggies ($70K), the module builders ($100K), the tractors ($185K) and the traditional picker machines ($300K) that this behemoth replaces. Of course for those of us who are accustomed to automobile sticker prices, these numbers make a Lamborghini Aventador seem pretty reasonable with an MSRP of $387,000. In defense of the Deere, though, the Batman car doesn't look as if it would pick too much cotton.

My, oh my, we do digress. Yes, we did make it to Blytheville today. But that's another story for another post. Meanwhile, we didn't find any lost relatives in the Arkansas Delta but we certainly learned a lot about agriculture.

$387,000

WEDNESDAY, 2 NOVEMBER 2011

Jeanne harvests rice the combine left behind

Don't miss the duck calling contest in November!

Stratton Seed employee patiently satisfies our curiosity.

Soybean combine with 35-foot header joyriding on US-79

On the Wright Track

Tuesday, November 01, 2011 Road Junkies 0 Comments

DIGGING FOR OUR ROOTS, Chapter 2:

IN WHICH WE FIND SOME GRAVE EVIDENCE

Day 2: Greenville, MS to Monticello, AR. As we wound our way toward Blytheville, AR, the object of our mission, a visit with relatives in southeast Arkansas was more than we could resist. Driving through the Mississippi River's alluvial plain on the Arkansas side of the river, we were again met with large fields of fertile soil, enriched by regular flooding over a period of thousands of years.

Agriculture still dominates the economy of the Arkansas Delta, as it has for more than 200 years, with rice, soybeans, and cotton being the main cash crops. Because of these large agricultural tracts, the Arkansas Delta has some of the lowest population density in the South, in some areas less than one person per square mile.

The town of Monticello (pop. 9,146) is just a few miles from the area where our grandmother was born and her father and his family called home. Her first cousin's son, Kenny, and his family still live in Monticello and graciously welcomed our visit.

Bobbie, Kenny, Belle, and Sylvia

Cousins Kenny and Bobbie—and their darling miniature Yorkie, Belle—welcomed us with open arms, fed us lunch, and took us on a tour of the area. (Belle was not thrilled about posing for photos.) In addition, Kenny, a self-taught musician, treated us to a concert on his remarkable Lowrey Celebration organ.

Kenny and his friend Lowrey

Based on the performance we heard, he could easily be a one-man substitute for an orchestra on most any occasion. Kenny has the amazing talent of pitch recognition and apparently can play any tune he has heard. He has also mastered the use of the organ's abilities to insert rhythm, strings, and other accompaniment.

After lunch, our charming hosts took us on a guided tour of family-significant sites in the area. Of particular interest were a couple of cemeteries with family plots. Rather than spending several hours tracking these cemeteries down and examining every grave to ensure we hadn't missed a family burial, our informative hosts were able to single out the significant areas for us.

At Andrews Chapel Cemetery

Of course, our Jeanne-e-ologist was taking notes the entire time, ensuring that we didn't miss any speck of vital family information.

We ended up spending the night in Monticello and asked at our hotel for a local restaurant recommendation. Assured that "The River" was the place to go, we set out with only our Garmin GPS for guidance. When it turned out to be a bit off, we consulted Google which gave us another address. Groping in the dark and seeing only a billboard at the specified location, we took a chance and turned onto a dirt lane adjacent to the sign. Following it across a railroad track, we eventually stumbled across The River restaurant and sports bar. They served a decent meal which completed our excellent day in Monticello.

Tomorrow we will make our way to Blytheville, the object of our search. Jeanne has been told by our grandmother and others interested in family history that we may find some answers in Blytheville. Are Clara's parents buried there? We have heard that Clara's brother Willie, who apparently died as a teenager, might be in a Blytheville cemetery. Our heads were full of possibilities as we tried to fall asleep.

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TUESDAY, 1 NOVEMBER 2011