Presley Carter Balderson

I wrote earlier about my great-great grandfather Presley Balderson and his 3 brothers who were all members of the 40th VA Infantry regiment during the Civil War (The AWOL Season, 5/12/16.)

As a recap, Presley, the youngest of the 4,  enlisted in Warsaw, VA on June 4, 1861 along with his older brother William, into Company D.  Charles and James had enlisted 10 days earlier into Company B; they were both musicians, and both were shoe/bootmakers.  Presley was first sent to Chimborazo Hospital beginning a month after the death of William (wounded fatally at Gaines' Mill on June 27, 1862) and Charles' illness and discharge (in mid-late July 1862.) This was immediately following the regiment's engagement at Cedar Mountain, and he may have been the one casualty listed on the muster list.  The reason for his hospitalization was "debilitas," in other words, weakness or feebleness: exhaustion.  He remained in the hospital until October 23-- a period of over 2 months, after which he was furloughed and instructed to report back for duty on December 1.  He was absent without leave for the month of December, but returned in January, along with his brother James.   Presley was readmitted to Chimborazo in May of 1863 after receiving a gunshot wound through the left shoulder at Chancellorsville. This wound is renowned in family lore because of the harrowing treatment it received from the surgeon:  a red hot poker was driven through it. It's moments like this that can change the trajectory of the future.  The furlough that followed meant that Presley missed the events in Gettysburg, which proved close to disastrous for his regiment.   

Earlier this week, I was poking around at some research and found two wonderful things:  First, a labeled copy of an unlabeled photograph that I have at home.  I love the photo; it's more casual and candid than the posed formal photos you usually see from this era.  The man in the photo has always reminded me of my dad, Carson...just something about his height, build, and kind face.  I knew that he must be a Balderson, but I didn't know which one, or even from what decade the photo might be.  The labeled photo confirmed that it is none other than Presley Carter Balderson and his wife Mary Ann Coates Balderson.  This dates the photo to sometime before 1904, when Mary died while sweeping the floor at home.  

On the same day, I found the obituary shown below, which is lovingly written and detailed, AND adds important information about Presley's service during the war as well as his character.  I didn't know about his participation at the Bloody Angle (the Muleshoe) during the Battle of Spotsylvania Courthouse, although I had heard a snippet about him supposedly rescuing the colors at some battle; I figured it was at Chancellorsville.  So it was great to read his story as he told it just before he died.  ---Yet another instance where fate intervened, the universe watched over him, and he summoned the courage to do his best for his regiment ("team.") And he was rewarded with survival, and a long life.  He outlived Mary Ann by 21 years, and lived to the ripe age of 88.  He met his death with courage and a peaceful heart, it seems.

Picnic Man

From an old family photo.  Subject/date unknown.

Picture I know nothing about, maybe 1920s.  A bright sunny day in a clearing with trees in the background, looks like a line of trees with another clearing, field, or roadway behind.  A group of people wearing various hats is gathered under the trees, and a child in white sits near an old car parked under the trees.
A man near the edge of the clearing is holding a partly-folded cloth that reflects the sun.
In the foreground, facing sideways/diagonal to the camera, stands a man in a white suit and dark hat.  His entire face is in shadow and his hands are clenched loosely at his sides.  He wears shiny, dark leather shoes.  He stands on thin grass in sandy soil, in a well-trodden part of the clearing.  He's wearing a tie, and something soft is wadded in the pocket of his suit jacket.  A bandana or tobacco pouch, maybe.

My question for the world around me:  Is there something you're not telling me?

Dreams of My Grandparents

Bottles, seashells, artifacts on the beach.  Dark and dusty interiors.  Jumbled and neglected kitchen.  Desks and attic spaces full of old papers and household items.  A cold feeling in the back of my skull, and the shade of my grandfather or grandmother somewhere nearby.

3/14/16

Oscar Chandler

5/13/16  Foxes' Den Near House / Mr. O.M. Chandler, Missing Poultry, Finds Den of Foxes Near His Door. It is not given to every one to have the denizens of the woods come within a few feet of their front door to rear their young, but such was the experience of Mr. O. M. Chandler, who lives on the Peters' farm, on the bay, a few miles from Snow Hill.
Mr. Chandler had frequently missed fowl from his barnyard and poultry house, a setting hen being sometimes taken, sometimes the eggs, and in some instances both hen and eggs would disappear.
At last, one afternoon about two weeks ago he discovered a red fox busily engaged in tearing to pieces and making a meal off of one of his big fat hens.  This gave him a clew to the disappearance of his poultry, and he called on Mr. George Smack, his neighbor, to assist him in hunting down the marauders.  Accordingly, Mr. Smack took his pack of hounds to Peters farm that afternoon.  The hounds easily found the trail, and followed it over devious and winding ways, until it was lost near the house.  They were put on the trail again and again, but on every occasion the dogs lost the trail at or near the same place.  Mr. Smack finally became convinced that the fox had a den somewhere near the barnyard.
A thorough search was made of the premises, with the view to discovering the den of the fox.  With characteristic cunning the foxes had used the ventilator of the old hot bed, crawling through it a distance of nearly 150 feet.  The ventilator, which was boxed, was so narrow that once inside it the fox scarcely had room to turn around, but would have to go forward, or back out.  The end of the ventilator nearest the house was closed, and here, at a distance of about 200 feet from his door, the foxes had burrowed in the ground, and were boldly rearing their young. feeding them on the fat of the land from Mr. Chandler's hen roosts, or from any vantage point they could effect a capture.
The female fox and three cubs were found in the den, and Mr. Smack has them in captivity.  The cubs are thought to be from four to six weeks old.

Nehemiah Fitzgerald's Death

Nehemiah Fitzgerald is a 3rd great-uncle of mine who was born in Hampton, Virginia in 1841.  The oldest of 10 children, he served in the Civil War with the Richmond Howitzers, finished his education, and left Virginia to seek opportunity elsewhere after the war.  His first stop was Louisiana, which he found "just as bad" as Virginia, so he took a ship to San Francisco in 1867.  He had teaching jobs in Chico and Rio Seco in 1868, Quincy and Live Oak in 1869, Cherokee Flat in 1870, and Gridley's Station in 1871 before arriving in Lake City in 1872, in what is now Modoc County, CA.  At some point, he bought sheep and established a homestead, before becoming the first county clerk of Modoc County in 1874, when he moved to Alturas (then Doris Bridge.)  He married Melissa Garrett, and continued to teach, raised sheep and cattle, and did some merchandizing.  The following letter was written by his daughter Phebe to his youngest sibling, Charles Fitzgerald (in Virginia), after his death.  I have the original letter, which I found in his sister Martha's family Bible (which is actually a salesman's sample Bible, and is full of family memorabilia.)

                                                                                                             

Alturas, Cal.

July 30 – 1905

Dear Uncle Charlie: -

No doubt ‘ere this you have received the card, announcing Bessie’s marriage and we little thought when it started on its way to you that it should so soon be followed by another telling not of a happy union but of a sad parting, but it is so.

Poor papa has gone from us and gone so suddenly that at times it seems it must be some terrible dream.  Bessie was married at noon, leaving for her new home at 4 o’clock, happy of course, but before night had come, all our joy had been turned to sorrow.

The heat had been extreme and papa had suffered from it, complaining of the weakness he felt – still all the week he had kept the store books holding the position for me.  He slept poorly Saturday night – because of the heat and excitement he felt over Bessie’s marriage – but Sunday, save a slight dizziness in the morning he seemed to feel as well as usual and thinking back now I can recall nothing unusual in his talk or manner – there being quite a number of people here.  He talked more than was his custom and largely of his ailments but that was his usual subject of conversation and to us it did not seem strange.

Shortly after five o’clock he ate a dish of ice cream, sat reading a while and then went out to do the evening chores, carried some water and went to the shed to get the grain for the chickens.  In a few moments Baby ran out there for something, saw him, was frightened and came running to me and said there was someone in the wood shed.  I tried to tell her it was some of our folks, for her not to be afraid to go and get what she wanted but she insisted she could not go alone; so I started with her and there I found papa lying cold in death as I knew the instant I saw him.  I ran to him, called him and tried to rouse him and then hurried to the house for help.  But papa was past all help before I reached him the first time.  Dr. said life had gone before he reached the ground, that it was instantaneous and without any suffering.  That is consolation for us and I hope will be for you.

Papa was not under the Dr’s care at the time but he had made a study of the disease and told us we should be prepared for this at any time – but you can know how we felt that it must be, if at all, sometime a long, long way off.  We never suspected the end was so near nor do I think he did tho’ he may have realized it more than we know.

The services were held here at home Monday at 4 o’clock – I wish you could have seen him then, it will always be a pleasant memory to me to know that all the careworn, tired looks pains and suffering had brought was gone and in its place was a faint smile and rest.

I will send you the papers, and try to write more fully another time.  I know you will share our grief with us and may it be lighter to you than it is for us.

Your loving niece

Phebe.

James Madison Scates Civil War Diaries!

See James Madison Scates.  James Madison Scates was a Sgt., later Captain, of the 40th Virginia.  Married Cornelia Balderson, Theoderick's daughter. (William) Balderson is mentioned....his fatal wound "in the leggs" at Gaines' Mill.  Details of battles, troop movements, capture and life in POW camps.  Will transcribe parts later!
VirginiaMemory

All Souls Day -- The Scotch-Irish Immigrants appeared today, when I wasn't even looking for them.

So, it's All Souls' Day, and the ancestors have been crowding around, wanting to have their stories told. I went looking for one small piece of information in the 1920 Census, and got sidetracked and distracted (isn't that always what happens?) and turned up all kinds of cool things today...but the most interesting thing I found is, finally, a pair of our immigrant Scots-Irish ancestors. I was looking at something in someone else's tree, out of curiosity, and looked at a record, and there they were.

Here is a shout-out to my 6th great-grandfather, Thomas Rutherford, born in 1707 in Derryloran Parish, Cookstown, County Tyrone, Northern Ireland. His father and uncles had left Scotland while in the service of King William III for Ireland, and were present and engaged at the Battle of the Boyne in 1690.  Two were officers, and the third was a Presbyterian minister. They decided to stay on the island, and there they raised their families: one in County Down, the minister in County Monaghan, and Thomas' father, in County Tyrone. In 1728, Thomas was in love with 16-year-old Jean Murdach, of nearby Gorty-Lowry Parish. His feelings were returned, BUT! When he asked her father if he could marry her, not only did her father say "no," but he moved his whole family to Pennsylvania.  I should note that nowhere does it say that he moved them to America to get his daughter away from Thomas, although that would add an extra dramatic spice to the story.

On October 26**, 1728---- either before or after the Murdachs left for America--- Thomas went into Cookstown and bought a memorandum book. On the flyleaf he wrote his name, and the date, and "written at the house of Aggness Murdoch,"---Jean's mother. On the cover, he wrote only "Enquire for Dennygall." Whether from Jean or another source, he was in possession of an important piece of information: Jean's family planned to settle in Donegal, or "Dennygall," on the banks of the Susquehanna River. Either that year or the next, Thomas left for America, the first of his family to do so.

In 1729, he finally got to Dennygall and showed up on the Murdach doorstep to claim his bride. He was again disappointed. Jean's father, John, sent him away, but told him that if he returned with a certain amount of money to prove that he could provide for her, he would allow them to marry. He departed for Philadelphia, and some time later reappeared-- on a horse this time, instead of on foot--- and with documents that satisfied his future father-in-law. No, Jean's father didn't send him away a second and a third time, although that would make this a more stereotypical fairytale adventure.  Thomas later wrote in his memorandum book, "Me and my wife was married the 7th day of September, A. D. 1730, by the Rev. James Anderson, in Donney Gall, America."

In the years to come, Thomas added the births and sometimes the deaths of their 12 children, the later marriages of the surviving children, and other details of their lives. The girls for the most part married at least once, some losing husbands who had left on explorations into unsettled territory, or who became casualties in the Revolutionary War; these families moved south and west, to the Appalachian foothills of South and North Carolina. The boys, for the most part, stayed close to home in Donegal and Paxtang, or Cumberland and Adams counties, in Pennsylvania. 

A kind person who is also a descendant of these people transcribed the records written in Thomas' memorandum book, which still exists. She then posted all of this, along with some bits from William Henry Egles' 'Pennsylvania Genealogies: Scots-Irish and German' on the Find-A-Grave website entry for Jean Murdah/Mordah/Murdach.

Thanks to Thomas and his stubborn determination to chase Jean (part of the way) across the globe, thousands of us now appear solid and clear in our own family portraits (Back to the Future-style), solidly written into our family trees, existing in flesh and blood, here-and-now form at our kitchen tables and walking on the sidewalks of our towns.

To steal the status post of a friend this evening:
"Suddenly all my ancestors are behind me. 'Be still,' they say. 'Watch and listen. You are the result of the love of thousands.'"

**- my birthday, no big deal...

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