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Rev. William C. Harris,  1811—1861

Minutes of the 38th Session of the Methodist Episcopal Church,

Carlinville, Macoupin Co., IL.,

11 Sep 1861 to 14 Sep 1861

     ”Rev. William C. Harris was born March 17, 1811 in Elizabethtown, Carter County, Tenn. In 1831 he emigrated with his parents to Illinois. Under the Labors of Rev. Elijah Carrington he was, in the year 1842, converted to God; was licensed to exhort by Rev. J.B. Houts, on Whitehall Circuit in 1843, and in 1854 licensed to preach. In the fall of the same year he was admitted on trial in the Illinois Conference held in Springfield; and from that time until his death faithfully served the church as an itinerant preacher. His first appointment was to Hillsboro Circuit, where he remained two years, and where his labors were greatly blessed in the building up the church, and gaining accessions to its numbers. He was next appointed to the Martinsville Circuit, where he also remained two years, and was greatly prospered in his Master’s work. His next appointment was Marshall Station. After one year’s labor there, he was appointed to Vermillion Circuit, in which he had almost completed two years of faithful labor, when he was suddenly called away from earth, on the 5th of August 1861, without a moments’ warning, but not without the notice and permission of Him who knows the end from the beginning. He was smitten down by the lightning’s stroke, and called at once from labor to rest. He could leave no dying testimony to the strength of divine grace to support and comfort in the last struggle, but the consistency of his Christian life, with his zeal and fidelity in the performance of his Masters’ work, assures us that though his departure was sudden, he was not unprepared for it. It is due to the memory of a sainted mother to state, that Bro. Harris had early impressed on his young mind the precepts and teachings of our holy Christianity, by which he profated above many. He possessed very respectable preaching talents, but the secret of his success as a minister was doubtless owing to the “power from on high”, with which he was richly endowed. But “he rests from his labors and his works follow him.” He leaves a wife and several children to the care of God and the Church.” – N. Cloud, Chairman.”

A handwritten copy of the above was found in Ada Luella Harris Sutphin’s papers after her death. Ada Luella was the daughter of grandson Charles Lysander Harris.

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Six Generations Gathered At Matriarch’s Birthday Party

Photograph by shootMyPhoto.com Bessie Moore, center, is surrounded by her son, Don Moore, and, from left to right, great-great-great-granddaughter, Emma Marie Collins (born July 1), great-great-granddaughter, Laicee Collins, 21, great-granddaughter, Damarda Doss, 39, and granddaughter, Martha Welborn, 58.

MOUNT VERNON, Ind. — Bessie Moore doesn’t like a fuss being made over her, even if she did turn 97 on Thursday.

She’s always been a feisty, independent woman, says her son, Don Moore, who’s in his mid-70s.

Sort of like the old gal in the movie “Driving Miss Daisy,” although unlike the character played by Jessica Tandy, Bessie Moore never learned to drive.

She walked to her sewing factory job, helping her husband raise two children and live in an $8-a-month house during the Great Depression and World War II.

But Sunday afternoon, at her daughter Anita Ainsworth’s home here, the family will toss a birthday dinner and give her a six-generation portrait taken recently.

In the portrait, the family matriarch is surrounded by son, Don Moore; granddaughter, Martha Welborn, 58; great-granddaughter, Damarda Doss, 39; great-great-granddaughter, Laicee Collins, 21; and great-great-great-granddaughter, Emma Marie Collins, born July 1.

“We try to have a birthday dinner for her every year,” said Welborn, a Whirlpool Corp. employee, “but she doesn’t like the fuss.”

Don Moore said his mother was born in 1912 in a Tennessee village that no longer exists. She moved to Mount Vernon about 1917 because her dad got a job as a plant foreman.

“The first time I ever drank coffee was the night my sister was born at home (1937),” recalls Don Moore.

“My dad let me go into the kitchen with him. I was 5.

“That same year, he gave me a whippin’ for playing in the flooded Ohio River, which made me run fast. I was on the Mount Vernon High School football team in 1946 that went undefeated.”

The other day, Don Moore and his wife dropped by his mother’s high-rise apartment with a birthday card.

“My wife looked at Mom and said, ‘It looks like you’re losing weight.’ Mom said, ‘Why I am not. I am not losing weight!’”

Bessie Moore, whose husband died at work in 1970, also was told recently she qualifies for food stamps.

Don Moore said when she heard that, she bristled.

“I’m not poor,” she said. “I’m not.”

Courtesy of Evansville Courier & Press

www.courierpress.com

7 Jul 2009

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Interview With Jack Ghormley, age 93, as of December, 2002

Date: December 23, 2002, Springfield, Missouri

Roy Hulston owned the mill at this time (mid to late 1920s). He was a Frisco Railroad conductor. My mother had remarried to Ellis Garrett, my stepfather. They had moved to the area from Georgia when I was about age 13. I remember that Andy Kirby Sr. owned most of the land, the old Marcum place, where the mill sits today in the Park. We were sort of sharecroppers for Mr. Kirby and we lived just south of where the Park is now. We raised corn and hogs, and had a couple of milk cows. We used to plow the south field in the Park for Mr. Kirby. My mother used to fish in that larger creek that runs by the mill today. She would catch some of the nicest catfish there. Everybody helped everybody in those days.

As a boy, I used to set traps all around, even where the park is today. We were catching a lot of polecats, fox, squirrels and coons. We could usually get a dollar and fifty cents for a polecat hide. Once I caught a large polecat in a trap near the spring in the park. This one didn’t have the white stripes down its back, but just a white mark on its head. Of course it was still alive. If you could manage to jump on the thing and hold its tail down, it wouldn’t get you. I did my best, but missed this time. It got me right in the eyes. I ran over to the spring creek and washed my eyes out. I got six dollars for that one. I’d most often empty my traps in the afternoon and early evening, take the animals home, and skin them in the mornings before I went to school. By the time I got to school, my clothes often smelled of skunk. I went to school at Flat Creek, west of Willard. For a long time, we had an older school teacher. Then she left, and was replaced by a young teacher. One morning, this young teacher asked us what smelled so bad! Some of the other boys told her that we trapped polecats. She told us to go home and change clothes. We told her we didn’t have any other clothes.

We trapped as many as thirty squirrels a day sometimes. Many people didn’t eat squirrels because they didn’t think they would taste good. But they were actually quite good. After we skinned them, Mother would just put them all in a big pot of boiling water and make a stew.

I do remember there were three caves in the area of our farm. One was very near the spring in the park. I found a large rock and pushed it aside. I was able to get inside a room about as large as our living room in our home here.

I joined the U.S. Navy at age 15 in 1924. I served on the battleships U.S.S. Tennessee and U.S.S. Idaho. When I came out of the service, I returned to Dade County on the train. No one was waiting for me at the station in Everton, so I walked home. My dog met me about half-way there, so happy to see me.

I remember the mill very well. The Hughes lived by the mill and operated a sort of general store there. Mr. Hughes had two daughters, Virginia and Susie, both very attractive. They had groceries, overalls, shirts, shoes and the like. By myself, I would take a sack of corn by horseback to be ground there. I remember Mr. Hughes ran for a political office and won. Mr. Newkirk was the postmaster. In later years, I drove my old Star car. John Nixon ran the mill in about 1928-1929. During the Depression, you couldn’t sell corn for nothing.

We raised hogs. I remember Roy Hulston hauling a bunch of them to town for us, and we made about four dollars on the load. The banks were always willing to loan money for a farmer to raise hogs. Roosevelt had the farmers kill all their hogs at one point. I felt so badly about it since there were so many hungry people. I would take a wagon, with sideboards, loaded with corn to the mill, and traded it for a twenty-pound sack of flour. I do remember the sifters and old mill with stones.

At that time, the Model T Ford was a very popular car. It had a “lock-to-lock” steering wheel to prevent theft. One day, here came these guys to the mill in one of these Model Ts. Somehow the steering wheel got locked, and the car turned right up on its side between the mill and where the bridge is today. Well, some of we men just went over and tipped it back upright.

That reminds me. There used to be an old wooden (commercial) garage in Dadeville. I was there one time when these people came along in their Model T. Model Ts were known for their bad brakes. They couldn’t stop the car and drove right through the back wall of the garage, but no one was even hurt. The same kind of thing happened in a garage over in Everton at the east end of town near the bandstand. These guys were working on an old caterpillar tractor in the garage. No one there knew exactly how to operate this tractor. When the repairs were complete, one of the guys said he was sure he could back it out of the garage. You controlled the turning of the tractor with pedals. Well, this guy took out the whole wall of the garage!

Men used to meet at the mill, sometimes sat around and talked, and told tales. Some of them had signed their names at different places in the mill. It was a good place to fish. There was a widow who lived near the mill. She had a daughter who married a Mr. Poindexter. This daughter led singing there sometimes. One family had a quartet. Though I never saw him myself, I remember some people telling about a black man who did a lot of fishing down there. The people said he made good stew, and shared it with them. It was kind of a lively little place on Saturdays and Sundays. The Stumpffs also lived nearby.

This interview appeared in the Springfield, Missouri News-Leader. It may also be found online at Missouri State University’s web site: Jack Ghormley Interview

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