ALMOST A PIONEER: WHEELER
HISTORY
By
Mrs. Joseph Patton Davis (Eliza Jane Wheeler)
Notes © Copyright 2006 William R. Hurst
INTRODUCTION
The following document was written by my grand aunt,
Mrs. Joseph Patton Davis, who was born Eliza Jane Wheeler in
I have two different versions of this document. One
version begins with a genealogy page which has a handwritten title “Wheeler
History”; the other ends with that page. I will point out the other minor
differences in the notes. Copies of the document were handed down in at least three
branches of her father’s family. I have not found the original. Descendants of
Aunt Jennie do not have the original and did not even have a copy.
I have used material from many sources to annotate
this document. I’ve received much information from present and past cousins of
mine and Aunt Jennie, especially Louise Kuster, Becki Gunn, Joe Branson, Bill
Wheeler, Rufus Wheeler, and Helen Stoller. My annotation is an ongoing project.
Those more interested in the cultural aspects of this
document, rather than the genealogy, might want to skip first to the section
entitled “Almost a Pioneer.”
William R. Hurst
WHEELER
HISTORY
Being the next eldest in a
rather large connection, many times they come to me asking about family names
and birth places. Some one of them suggested that my memoirs should be written
as my life has taken me in many places and among many kinds of people.
My maiden name was Wheeler
and my people came from the eastern shore of
There were three Wheeler
brothers[3]
who set out from
They eventually settled in
what is now
Vincent Wheeler[10]
was our great grandfather's name and his wife's name was Rebecca.[11]
They were the parents of Charles Pincney,[12]
Walter Raleigh,[13] Newton
Henry,[14]
Samuel H.,[15] Nancy
Jones,[16]
Sallie Burcham,[17] Bettie
Lewis,[18]
Delia Johnson,[19] and
Hallie Winn[20]. I give
all names because some one might want to trace the relationship at some time.[21]
Great grandfather Wheeler
married Nancy Beller Wills,[22]
daughter of Hiram[23] and
Mary Wills[24]. Mary
Wills' maiden name was Jones and the Joneses were from
William Raleigh Wheeler[30] (our father) married Mary Bailey Lindsey[31]
and to them were born the following children:
Emily Isabelle, born 27 Feb
1862 [32]
Eliza Jane, born 09 Jan 1865 [33]
Albert Sidney Johnson, born
23 Jul 1867 [34]
Katherine Kelly, born 02 Nov
1868 [35]
Nancy Columbia, born 16 Jun
1870 [36]
Newton Lindsey, born 10 Nov
1872 [37]
Stephen Decatur, born 01 Apr
1874 [38]
Mary Bailey, born 10 Mar 1875[39]
ALMOST A PIONEER
In thinking over my past life
as a child, the days seem so much like a play ‑ sunshine, daisies,
running to the shop to call Grandpa to dinner and getting the ride on his
shoulder back to the house ‑ that I hardly know where to begin.
It's like looking for
something in Grandma's scrap bag. There was every kind of material from
homespun to satin and silks. Not that my Grandmother dressed in silk. Both my
Grandmothers wore black alpacas for best dresses, made with full skirts, full
sleeves, and tight waists, but they had silk aprons and capes edged with lace
and velvet. They both wore dainty white caps tied under their chins and they
both smoked pipes, as did all the other old ladies in our neighborhood.
I asked one of my
Grandmothers when she began smoking a pipe and wearing caps. Of course, I had
in mind when I was to begin. She said she began wearing caps when she married.
It was a sort of badge to her matronhood and with it came smoking. Practically
all married women smoked, I suppose just as women now smoke cigarettes, but not
in public. Our kitchen, like many of the houses built in slave times, was not connected
with the main house. The fire in the kitchen never went out and matches were
expensive, so one of my chores was to light Grandma's pipe. To do this I had to
run to the kitchen after she had put in the tobacco and put a live coal on top
and take a puff or two to keep it burning until I handed it to her. This never
created in me the least desire to smoke, but always the wonder of how she could
stand it even if it were the correct thing for married ladies.
Ours was a large family and I
was next to the oldest. We were farm people living twenty miles from the county
seat of
Our farm[42]
was jointly owned by my father,[43]
his brother,[44] and my
grandfather.[45] It was
located on Little Reed Island.[46]
On this creek was located our saw and grist mills, also a shop where my
grandfather worked. My grandfather was a very useful man in the community. He
made tubs, buckets, barrels, furniture ‑ in fact almost anything that was
needed. He also made all the coffins that were needed in that part of the
county. They were made of well‑seasoned walnut and he had one special drawer where he kept his linings and
velvet for edgings, silver handles, and screw tops or what I thought was
silver. He also pulled all the aching teeth in the community. Added to that, he
was a magistrate, so our place was quite a community center.
There was a mill pond to
impound the water for running the mills, and ice was cut from the pond in the
winter. Having ice, we took as a matter of course, but when the neighbors came
during hot weather and made such an ado over the ice water, we
naturally began to think it was quite a luxury. We always furnished ice for the sick people of the neighborhood. They used
to come five and six miles on horse‑back to get sacks of ice. In later
years I have wondered why we did not have ice cream. There was only one
occasion when it is said we had ice cream, and that was when my uncle was
married.[47]
They went some distance and borrowed an ice cream freezer. Evidently they
didn't know one could make it in buckets with salt and ice packed around.
I was born the year of Lee's
surrender, 1865, and I know now that times must have been pretty hard for the
family, but personally I remember only one scarcity, and that was sugar, and I
heard the older people talk about using rye for coffee.
Our father's family did not
own slaves[48] and
disapproved of slavery most heartily but were strong for State Rights. My
father and his brother volunteered in the Southern Army,[49]
leaving grandpa to run the farm and mills as best he could. Of course heavy
household burdens fell on our mother's shoulders and she was only about twenty‑three.[50]
All the clothing for the
family was spun and woven in the home. My mother also did the sewing, even to
making the men's clothes. Grandpa would not wear any hat except one that she
made. Of course, when he went to church or court he wore a high top beaver. I
still have blankets, coverlets, and table linen that mother wove.
Every two years or less there
was a new baby added to the household. Aunt Hannah, the nurse, always brought
them so we were told. I used to wonder how anyone as black as Aunt Hannah[51] could bring white babies.
Out of eleven brothers and
sisters (two half sisters and a half brother by my father's second marriage), I
had a sister[52] three
years older than I and a brother[53]
two years younger who were my playmates. I always preferred to play with my
brother as his games were more rowdy and he never argued with me about climbing
trees or investigating strange places as my sister was inclined to do. I was
constantly climbing to places from which I had to be rescued. When I was five,
I remember climbing to the top of my uncle's house,[54]
which was in the course of erection. The house was two and a half stories high
and had just been covered. I was sitting calmly viewing the landscape when I
was caught from behind and unceremoniously carried down the ladder which had
been left against the house. I received a sharp spanking which I richly
deserved, but a high place has always been challenging to me.
As I said before, I am sure
that our family must have felt the pinch of the war, but to us children the war
was just as remote as it is to any child today. Of course we heard it talked,
and a most frequent phrase was "before the war." I have heard the
family describe a most heart‑rending scene at home. The grist mill was a
large three‑storied building and in the lower story or basement were the
weaving implements, warping bars, loom, etc. By strict economy and pinching my
mother had saved enough money to buy cotton thread to weave a web of cloth for
the family winter clothes and it had been warped and was ready to put in the
loom. My mother breathed a sigh of relief as she closed the door of the
basement and thought how long it had taken her to spin and dye the wool and
cotton and now everything was ready for her weaving, which meant new clothes
for the family for they were in need. The next morning when she went down to
the mill to put her web into the loom, she found that someone had stolen it
from the warping bars. I have heard my mother say that was the only time that
utter despair came over her. This was before I was born.
It was not until I was grown
that I understood what it was that made a difference between our family and
some of the neighbors. It was the fact that some of them were slave owners and
we were not. That created a social difference. The other difference was that my
people were reading people. They bought books and subscribed for papers and
magazines. Books were hard to get and very expensive in those days. My father
used to go to Wytheville and bring back sacks full of books, new and old. I
remember once when he went to town and was to buy me a piano but came back with
a load of books, much to my disgust. He not only bought the books, but he made
us read them or he read them to us. He read aloud all of Scott's novels,
Dickens', and many others in the long winter evenings. They are still happy
memories to me. Someone would bring up a basket of apples and after lessons
Father would bring out the unfinished novel. The books suggested so many
subjects of interest.
Two or three incidents stand
out in my memory which give an insight as to how we lived in this remote
section. I know now that it was very like pioneer life. On one occasion it
seemed that all the Wheeler relatives that I had ever heard of were gathered at
our house. On Sunday morning there was a great commotion and they came helping
an uncle who was a preacher[55]
to bed where he was given medical attention. I heard someone say that a horse
had kicked him; however, the whole cavalcade were soon all ready to depart,
leaving me screaming because I could not go along. I was afterward told that
the occasion was the funeral of my great grandfather who had died some two
years before.[56] Think
of waiting that long for a funeral sermon. Fortunately, they had buried the old
gentleman when he died.
My mother's people were also small farmers and opposed slavery. We
children used to take turns staying weeks at a time with Grandpa Lindsey.[57]
He was not a man that children would love for he seldom spoke to us, but he had
his good points. He was firmly entrenched behind a sense of justice, but I
never thought there was much mercy in his philosophy of life. He was musical
and played the flute. I remember seeing him many times come in from his work,
get out his old songbooks, and sing first the round notes[58]
and then the words, at the same time keeping time with his hand.
My first knowledge of taxes
was when I heard grandfather argue with the tax collector about his taxes,
especially for public schools. I remember when we first had public schools in
Grandma Lindsey[59]
was Irish. Her maiden name was Kelly and her father had come to
Much is said these days by
students of psychology about being careful never to let small children know of
the worries of the family. Our parents must have unconsciously sensed this for
we never knew that there was anything more than we had to be desired. To us,
the world was complete. We had the run of the orchard, the mill yard, gardens,
and Grandpa's shop, and as we grew a little older, fishing below the mill dam.
We never caught anything but minnows, but the fun was in feeling the tug at the
other end of the line.
There are two incidents that
stand out in my memory that happened at about this age of my life. Uncle Sam,
my father's brother, married and brought his bride home. There was what was
called in those days an "infare",[63]
and now we call it a "reception". All the neighbors were invited and
a most sumptuous feast prepared. A special cook was brought in to bake the
cakes. Light bread was baked; hams, chickens, and anything else that could be
provided in the country were prepared. Also, the guests made much ado about the
ice cream that was served as few of them had ever seen any before, much less
tasted it. The thing that impressed me most was the bride and groom sitting
under the lilacs reading poetry. I had never seen anyone take that much time
off and dedicate it purely to joy and love making.
Another incident varied our
monotonous lives. One Saturday afternoon we had been bathed and dressed in
clean garments and told to go play while the baby[64]
was being bathed and the kitchen put to order. As usual, we strolled toward the
mill. I spied a large iron kettle in the furnace where the wool had recently
been dyed and some of the dye was left in the kettle. It seemed a good time to
see how slippers would look on our feet. We never had any kind of shoes except
copper‑toed ones. Of course, the neighborhood children had the same kind
which was small comfort when one yearned for slippers. We proceeded to sit on
the edge of the furnace which was sunken in the ground, and carried three large
kettles made of iron. These kettles served to boil the family laundry, and to
color the wool and cotton when needed for weaving. After we had tried slippers
in the black dye, we tried high shoes. Then my brother decided he wanted boots
like the team drivers wore. Someone splashed and the fun was on. If you could
have seen our clothes! We heard voices and someone approaching from the house,
and we ran for the creek. Only my brother falling into the mill race and having
to be rescued from drowning saved us from a well-deserved spanking.
Our home was not elegantly,
but comfortably furnished. It was mostly walnut and cherry furniture made by
traveling cabinet makers. They would use Grandpa's shop and I suppose taught
him much that he knew about furniture making. We had lovely four‑poster
and empire bedsteads, bureaus, bookcases, dropleaf tables, and candle stands.
All the beds had huge feather beds on top of straw ticks, except the trundle
bed which my sister and I slept in. This bed was low and pushed under mother's
bed which was a four‑poster. Over our straw tick was a large black fur
robe which made a most comfortable bed. However, if a bit of the fur showed I
would start screaming like mad. I was never afraid unless I saw the fur. Our
sheets were all home woven linen except the ones on the guest beds. In this day
and time we reverse things.
Grandpa Wheeler was a man of
few words and very direct approach. He had one of the strongest personalities I
have ever known. He was not a lovable man, but was one whose opinion was deeply
respected and one whose approval was sought. We children adored him and he in
turn catered to our whims. My brother was the first grandson and was also a
very precocious child, which made grandpa prophesy that some day he would be
president.[65] There
being no Roosevelt then, we children always believed him.
I started to school when I
was five years old and the only thing that approached learning so far as I was
concerned was being called to the teacher's side and told to repeat the
alphabet as he would point to them with his open knife. I had learned them by name,
so that was easy. I literally gnawed the corners off two blue‑backed
spellers before I approached what was known as the spelling class. We had no
charts, no globes, no pictures or anything that would interest a child. The
wonder to me is how we ever learned anything.
A little girl about my age
and size used to sit by me in school and my only interest in school was to ask
the teacher if we might "to out". Once we were out, we hunted pretty
pebbles which were in abundance on the knob where the school building sat. We
loaded our pockets with these stones much to the annoyance of our mothers. One
occasion while out we decided to exchange dresses and see if the teacher would
know the difference. He did not, but the pupils did and raised such a commotion
that school was brought to a sudden halt and we were ordered to a corner of the
room and told to resume our own clothes. It was no strip tease for us, but
bitter humiliation. Nor did it end there. The story was told over the
neighborhood and thought to be a great joke.
Of course we walked to and
from school as it was only about a mile and a half. This was never a hardship
to us as there was so much to see and do along the way. We lived on the
My grandmother[68] was the most Christ‑like person I have ever
known. I do not remember to have ever seen her angry or heard her raise her
voice, except to call someone. She it was who taught us to pray and not to
quarrel. My mother was a lovely person too, but there was every two years a new
baby and all the burden of the household on her shoulders. She usually had a
nurse and a woman came every week to do the laundry. There was always a drove
of cows, five or six, a gaggle of geese and ducks that had to be picked every
few weeks or maybe it was months, chickens to be cared for, flax to be spun,
also wool which had to be woven and sewed into garments. All this besides the
knitting for this ever‑growing family. Mother was a beautiful seamstress
and for a number of years her trousseau furnished my sister and me with our
Sunday clothes, one of her dresses making us both a dress. I never remember
seeing her sit idly except on Sundays when she read to us or told us stories.
Our house was the home of the
preacher when he came once a month on his circuit to preach at what was the
schoolhouse and church both. It was my mother's hands that made the sacrament
bread and, I suppose, the wine. We were brought up in the old fashioned
Methodist way and were not allowed to play rowdy games on Sunday or to cut with
the scissors, use a needle, or do anything that savored of work. The only
workaday jobs that were ever done on Sunday was when Grandpa made a coffin in
an emergency.
All of our cooking at that
time was done on a big open fireplace. The coffee was pounded in a mortar such
as druggists use. Hooks, poker, and shovel were the tools used in cooking. Fires
for cooking were made early so there would be plenty of hot coals. On Saturday
preparation was made for Sunday. Chickens were dressed or a ham was boned,
light bread was baked, a stack of pies and cake were made, and if none were on
hand, a big crock of cucumber pickles was made. There was always a tub in brine
if there were none in the garden, so company coming home with us for Sunday
dinner disturbed no one.
We had church once a month
only unless a local preacher volunteered his services, but to this day I
remember some of the texts and subjects. One I remember was "Our Vines
Have Tender Grapes". It seemed odd to me that I should have heard it as a
text for a sermon and seventy‑five years later see it as the title of a
movie,[69]
however, it was good in both places.
Saturday afternoon or
Saturday night was bathtime in our family. The kitchen was made warm, the big
brass kettle and the tea kettles were filled with water and the wooden bath tub
was brought in and everyone took turns. Of course, we children were supervised
for Saturday baths were rituals.
Saturday was also a day we
sent for the mail. The post office[70]
was four miles away. This also was an event, for most of the papers and
magazines had pictures in them and there was an occasional letter which was
read to whomever it was addressed, stuck up behind the clock and pulled out and
read by anyone interested. These letters from absent relatives were our most
exciting events except an occasional visit back home by them. Then we had the
grape‑vine telegraph. I remember how a neighbor would ride out of his way
after coming from town to tell of some national event such as an assassination
of a public figure.
In those days there was
little opportunity for young men of small means, so as they grew up they went
west, which meant
All our teachers were greatly
respected by our parents and feared by the children. They walked about the
schoolroom with a long hickory in their hands which they used as a pointer, but
one never knew how quickly it might turn into an instrument of torture. If we
came under the displeasure of our teachers, we got little sympathy at home and
were always told that if we obeyed the teacher we would not be in trouble.
When I was about eight years
old my father sold his interest to his brother and bought a large farm four
miles closer to the county seat.[72]
Here we all assumed some degree of responsibility in the home. Mine was to
supply the family with drinking water. This was no hard job in the winter, but
in warm weather, it seemed to me that every time anyone saw me they were
immediately seized with a great thirst. Ever since then I have always had a
great sympathy for the waterboy on public works. Some years ago I visited the
old home and was amazed to see how short the distance was to the spring. In my
memory it seemed at least a half mile from the dwelling.
I lost my mother when I was
ten years old and we children grew up under the guidance of a Grandmother,
housekeeper and Stepmother[73]
and such guidance as a very busy father could give us. I pause here to say that
we never went to him for advice but that he directed us well and to his
children he was the fount of all knowledge and we always felt that if Pa said
so that we need ask no further.
The thing that we all needed
as we grew up was some form of recreation. I think that would have stood for
the whole community in which we lived and I really think the Puritans had
nothing on us in that respect. In our country community there was nothing
outside of the home. In
When one considers the many
forms of amusement that we have now and compares with the long, dreary months
of country life it is little wonder that young people went astray searching for
amusement.
In due course of time I grew
up to young woman‑hood, had the usual life of a country girl trying to
see a prince charming in all the young men who paid me any attention.
After finishing school I
taught four years. During the last year of college life my father sold his
possessions in
Shortly after moving to
*****************************************************************************************
The above was written by
Eliza Jane (Jennie) Wheeler.[75]
She was the daughter of William Raleigh Wheeler, the granddaughter of Newton
Wheeler and the great granddaughter of Vincent Wheeler, born in
[1]
[2] At least
one Internet genealogy, no longer online, traced the family directly back to
Henry Wiehler born in
[3] Besides
the three brothers discussed below, their mother and four sisters left
[4] There
are several living descendants of William Joseph Wheeler (1875-1974), but they
do not know about the log or geometry text. William was a son of Samuel Vincent
Wheeler who will be discussed later. William married Clarice Livingstone
(1893-1972), whose father Colin
Livingstone was the first national president of the Boy Scouts. William was
a Rear Admiral in the Coast Guard; he possibly held a temporary rank of Vice
Admiral. He was at times commander of several Coast Guard vessels, the
International Ice Patrol, the anti-smuggling patrol, and the Inspector in
Chief. He received the Navy
Cross for his actions in World War I. William and Clarice are buried in
[5] Actually
they eventually settled in areas which were then
[6] Eight of
her great grandfather Vincent Wheeler’s children were born in
[7]
The three brothers were Vincent, Anthony, and Ezekiel. All three had children.
Andrew Martin Wheeler was not a brother, but a son of Vincent. Andrew was born
on September 18, 1800 in
[8] The
“other brother” was Anthony Wheeler, born in 1772 in
[9] Rufus
Martin Wheeler (b. 1847,
[10] Vincent
Wheeler was born in
[11] Rebecca
Richmond was born August 8, 1879 in
[12] Charles
Pincney (or Pinkney) Wheeler was born August 28, 1807, in
[13] Walter
Raleigh Wheeler was born January 20, 1812, in
[14] Both
versions of this document list “Newton Henry.” Since no other source has a
middle name for Newton Wheeler, and since Aunt Jennie omits Henry Porter
Wheeler – while mentioning his two sons, Rufus and Turner – my guess is that a
comma is missing between
[15] “Samuel
H.” was actually Samuel Ruffin Wheeler, born November 17, 1816, in
[16] Nancy
Wheeler was born January 9, 1803, in
[17] “Sallie
Burcham” was actually Sarah Wheeler, born December 7, 1798, in
[18] Bettie
Lewis was Elizabeth Wheeler, born May 10, 1809, in
[19] Delia
Johnson was born Delia Wheeler on December 19, 1819, in
[20] “Hallie
Winn” was Emilla Wheeler, born March 18, 1822, in
[22] “Nancy
Beller Wills” is more properly Nancy Wills Bellar. She was born March 24, 1802,
in
[23] Hiram
Wills (often spelled Wells) was born about 1774 in
[24] Mary
Wills was born Mary Jones in
[25] As far
as I know, the Jones family stayed in that portion of
[26] Besides the three living children, there were two who died young. Henry Clay Wheeler was born April 8, 1843 and died October 24, 1844. Mary Wheeler was born October 24, 1844. Both were probably born in either Carroll or Wythe counties. There is much uncertainty about their birth and death dates.
[27] Eliza
A. Wheeler was born August 8, 1833, in
[28] William
Raleigh Wheeler, Aunt Jennie’s father, was born on February 21, 1834, in Grayson
County (sometimes listed as Carroll County, which did not then exist), and died
August 12, 1918, in Pulaski County, Virginia. He served as the quartermaster
sergeant of Company B, 51st
Virginia Infantry, CSA, and participated in many major battles such as the
siege of
[29] Samuel
Vincent Wheeler, who was also in the 51st VA, was born April 5,
1838, in
[31] Mary
Bailey Lindsey was born on November 10, 1841, in
[32] Emily
Isabelle Wheeler (known as Belle) was born in
[33] Eliza
Jane Wheeler, the author of this document, was born in
[34] Albert
Sidney Johnston “Sid” Wheeler was born in
[35]
Katherine Kelly Wheeler was born in
[36] Nancy
Columbia Wheeler (known as Nannie) was born in
[37] Newton
Lindsey Wheeler (spelled Lindsay in one version of the document) was born and
died in
[38] Stephen
Decatur Wheeler was born in
[39] Mary
“Bailey” Wheeler was born in
[40] The
county seat of
[41]
Hillsville is the county seat of
[42] The
farmhouse still stands about one mile south of Patterson,
[43] William Raleigh Wheeler
[44] Samuel Vincent Wheeler
[45]
[46] Little Reed Island Creek begins in Carroll County, runs northeast through the southeastern corner of Wythe County, then into Pulaski County, ending at Big Reed Island Creek, just before that creek empties into the New River, which runs through West Virginia to the Ohio River.
[47] Samuel
Vincent Wheeler married Mary Jane Baker on September 11, 1867, in
[48]
According to the Memoir of Vincent Whaley Wheeler in the 1917 Minutes of the
Baltimore Annual Methodist Conference, Charles Wheeler (Aunt Jennie’s great
great grandfather) of
[49] William R. Wheeler and Samuel V. Wheeler enlisted at Wytheville on July 31, 1861.
[50] Mary Bailey Lindsey Wheeler was actually 19 when her husband enlisted.
[51]There
was a black family four houses away in the 1870 Wythe census consisting of York
and Hannah Watson, both born in
[52] Emily Isabelle Wheeler, later known as Belle.
[53] Albert Sidney Johnston Wheeler, known as Sid.
[54] At the time of the 1870 census, Newton Wheeler is living in dwelling 43, William R. in dwelling 44, and Samuel V. in dwelling 26, all in the Speedwell Township of Wythe Co. William T. Hurst was with his parents in dwelling 38.
[55] Perhaps
this was her great uncle Samuel Ruffin Wheeler, born November 17, 1816, in
[56] Great grandfather Vincent Wheeler had died in 1854, so she could not mean him. Great grandfather Hiram Wills had died in 1857, still too early. Great grandfather Henry Lindsey had died in 1845. Great grandfather John Kelly had died even earlier, in 1824.
[57] Jesse
Lindsey was born, probably in
[58] “Round notes” are the normal method of indicating the pitch of the notes by their position on a musical staff, in contrast to “shaped notes,” which use different shapes of the head of the notes to indicate their pitch. The shaped note system was often used for church singing. Aunt Jennie was informing us that Grandpa Lindsey could read music.
[59] Catherine
Kelly was born in
[60] A
notebook kept by Emily Belle Wheeler Hurst states that Kelly came to
[61] The online Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary defines “garron” as a Scottish and Irish word for “a small sturdy workhorse.”
[62] Unable to find a definition for “flouster.”
[63] Merriam-Webster’s defines “infare” specifically as “a reception for a newly married couple.” As noted earlier, the wedding was on September 11, 1867, when Aunt Jennie was only two years old.
[64] Not sure which of her younger siblings she means here.
[65] Well,
maybe he didn’t become President. Sid Wheeler did become the city sergeant,
equivalent to a county sheriff, and a leading citizen of
[66] The
[67] Doodle bugs, or antlions, have their own website. According to this site, doodle bugs may be stirred into action by dangling a blade of grass into their pit, or by a puff of air. Probably singing a song close to the pit produced the puff of air.
[68]I assume she meant Nancy Wills Bellar Wheeler, since she had discussed her other grandmother Catherine Kelly Lindsey earlier.
[69]The film “Our Vines Have Tender Grapes” starring Margaret O’Brien was released in 1945. The sermon text is from the Bible, Song of Solomon 2:15.
[70] Area
post office changes were often and confusing. The nearest post office had been
[71] Before
the Civil War, the four Lindsey brothers, William, John H., Fleming S., and
Stephen D., moved to
[72] I do
not know the location of the new house built about 1873, but it may have been
near the
[73] William
R. Wheeler’s second wife was Eliza Jane Runyon,
born January 16, 1843. They were married in
[74] Around
1886, William R. Wheeler and his brother Samuel V. Wheeler, their families,
including Emily Belle Wheeler Hurst and William T. Hurst, all moved to
[75] This paragraph was probably written by whoever retyped the document.
[76] One
version of this document has “Harrison Paxter.” The other version of the
document has just “Rev. Harrison.” Based on an earlier document written by Aunt
Jennie, I have used just
[77] The other version has this middle name “Paxter.” Census records have Joseph’s middle initial as “B.”
[78] Emory
and
[79]
According to census records, the