Little Ghosts and Goblins

This newspaper clipping came to me without a date on it. I can't be sure what year Audrey and Erna hosted this Halloween party, but then, sleuthing is half the fun of exploring family history.

According to the guest list above, eight of the nine Barclay children attended this event. The only one missing was Shirley, the youngest, who was born in 1933. I believe that if Shirley had been there, even as a babe in arms, her name would have been included in the newspaper story. Don't you think so? Glenn, the sibling closest in age to Shirley, was born in 1930, and he showed up on the party list. So, my first guess was that the party was held between 1930 and 1932--post-Glenn and pre-Shirley.

But wait! The article mentions that the party was held on a Wednesday night. Why would people have a party for children on a school night unless it was actually Halloween--October 31st?

I went to the Internet and checked old calendars to find the day of the week for October 31st on each year of the early 1930s. The first Halloween that fell on a Wednesday in that decade was in 1934.

Sorry, Aunt Shirley, but it looks like they partied without you. Maybe they thought it would be too scary for a one-and-a-half-year-old girl. I hope you've had enough treats since then to make up for what you missed that night.

UPDATE 10/28/13: Apparently, my detective work wasn't thorough enough. I just checked my genealogy database for Velma Brower (Audrey's sister and party assistant) and discovered that by the time October 31, 1934 rolled around, she had been Mrs. Raymon Tracy for nearly eight months. So, what year was the party? I dunno. I give up.

The Spirit Letters - Part Two

A Word from Audrey (Smith) Barclay

There are those who will, no doubt, most emphatically declare the letters I am about to share with you to be nothing more than the wanderings of a senile mind or an unusually vivid imagination. To be perfectly frank with you, in your place I'd feel exactly as  you do about it--skeptical, to say the least. On the other hand, there are many people who wholeheartedly believe in Spiritualism, and who cite many unusual experiences to justify their beliefs. I'm glad I don't believe it, because if I did, I'm sure I'd be just plain scared to death!

May I tell you a bit about my grandmother [Amy Lucinda Smith Hagadorn] before we read the letters?

My earliest recollection of her dates back to the days when, as a very small girl, I spent several weeks each summer visiting with her and my bachelor uncle on their Ozarks hill farm at the Crossroads.

In those days the house was a large, one-room log cabin with a loft, or attic, and a wide porch across the entire East side of the house. It was on this porch that most of Grandmother's waking hours were spent, when the weather permitted. I can see her now, in her low rocking-chair, a pan of potatoes (or peaches or apples) on her lap, her paring knife in her hand, and she, herself, sound asleep. Suddenly her head comes up with a jerk as she awakens, but before she has finished even one potato she is quite likely to be nodding again.

She was a little short, dumpy woman of Dutch ancestry--not at all a person to fear, if one could judge by appearances. But woe betide the individual who aroused her ire! Her temper was something to reckon with, and it was common knowledge that she feared neither man, beast, or the devil. Sometimes, because my uncle was a semi-invalid and not to be taken into consideration, someone would try to impose on her, but none ever tried it a second time.

I suppose I should have painted a picture of her better self first, but somehow, I must have gotten started all wrong. Actually, Grandmother was a gentle person, kind to those in need, and went for miles to care for the ill. She believed in doing unto others as you would have them do unto you, and she expected others to follow the same rule. When they failed to do so, that was when she took matters into her own hands and endeavored to show them the error of their ways.

It was about the time I came along that my grandfather managed to get himself into disrepute with her. I've never known how their difference of opinion came about, but I do know that during the last few years of his life, they never lived together as man and wife.  He was a contractor, and his work kept him away from home for months at a time, but on the rare occasions when he did come for a few weeks, she always made him welcome--up to a point. Even after Grandmother passed away, when I was only two and a half years old, it remained a mystery to the family just why Grandmother had come to shut him out of her life so completely.

Grandmother went to California to live when I was nine, and it was while she was living there that the old house burned. Several years later, after I was married, in fact, my father decided to build a new house on the old home place in the hope that Grandmother would return and spend the remainder of her days there with him.

It was such a joyous time for me when, finally, I could take my baby daughter and visit the place--and people--I had longed for for so many years. At first it seemed Grandmother had hardly changed at all in the eleven years since I had last seen her. Gradually, however, she began to talk to me of things she had never mentioned when I was a child. Before my stay was up, I was almost afraid to go to bed at night. Then, too, the bitter way in which she talked about Grandfather was frightening, although she did not reveal the reason for her bitter hatred of him, even so many years after his death.

I soon discovered that Grandmother had no intention of staying long at the farm. Born and reared in New York State, she insisted she was going back there. Three years later, when she suddenly sickened and died, her trunks still remained packed as they had been when she returned from California. And still, no one knew for what she waited before continuing her interrupted journey to New York. She kept her own council, and she kept it well.

Dad and Uncle Arb continued to live together until Uncle Arb, too, passed away some twelve years later. All that time Grandmother's trunk remained a mystery, as Dad did not seem at all curious, and Uncle Arb, I suppose, wasn't interested. At any rate, I never quite had the courage to make any inquiry, or pry, until recently. The mystery surrounding so many things was finally solved--at least to my satisfaction. Buried deep within the trunk were two old-fashioned school tablets such as I used when I was a child. Page after page was filled with the letters I am about to share with you, written in Grandmother's beautiful script, and dictated (if you can believe what you're going to read) by the spirits of men long dead.

Shall we read?

**********

Editor's Note: Well, no, we won't read those letters just yet. They were not attached to this particular piece, so it seems Grandma Audrey left us with a cliffhanger this time.

As for the school tablets on which the letters were written, it's my understanding that several members of the family have seen those tablets, though no one among the folks I've spoken to has any knowledge of where they are today. As much as I'd love to see the originals, we do have a typed transcript of the spirit letters (or at least a part of them; I don't know for sure), and I'll post that in a couple of weeks.

Those Who Came Before Us

Three weeks ago we read Grandma Audrey's essay about how much she liked to visit cemeteries. In case any of you readers share her enjoyment of those peaceful places, I thought we might do a little browsing of our own. (Remember to click on the images to enlarge them.) I think it's only right to start with the final resting place of Audrey herself, along with her beloved husband, Erna, then on to some of their ancestors:

Audrey L. (Smith) and Erna L. Barclay

Greenlawn Cemetery, Springfield, Missouri

Audrey's mother:  Minnie Lee (West) Brower

Greenlawn Cemetery, Springfield, Missouri

Audrey's father:  Ernest Ray Smith

Nolan Cemetery, Galena, Missouri

Audrey's maternal grandparents: 

Louisa Catherine "Lula" (Smith) and Zachariah Taylor West

Greenlawn Memorial Gardens, Springfield, Missouri

Audrey's great-grandparents: Nancy (Owens) and Isaac West

Moore Cemetery, Stotts City, Missouri

Audrey's paternal grandparents:

Amy Lucinda (Hagadorn) and Samuel S. Smith

Nolan Cemetery, Galena, Missouri

Grandpa Erna's parents:

Barclay, Martha Caroline (Mynatt) and James Daniel Barclay

Bethel Cemetery, Charity, Missouri

Erna's maternal grandparents:

Jemima (Jemiama?) Ann (Hinds) and Martin Linville Mynatt

Bethel Cemetery, Charity, Missouri

Erna's paternal grandfather: Durrett Hubbard Barclay

Atteberry Shed Cemetery, Dallas County, Missouri

Erna's paternal grandmother (wife of Durrett Hubbard Barclay):

Lucretia (Davison) Barclay

Erna's great-grandfather (father of Lucretia): Brackett Davison

Atteberry Shed Cemetery, Dallas County, Missouri

Erna's great-grandmother (mother of Lucretia):

Delilah (Hardison) Davison

Atteberry Shed Cemetery, Dallas County, Missouri

If you're a descendant of Audrey and Erna, then each of the people laid to rest under the grave markers pictured here contributed some part of himself or herself to the person you are now. It might be the color of your eyes, the shape of your hand, or even some unconscious mannerism. Think about these folks sometimes, and when you do, remember to thank them. At least for the good parts.

Our Doctor, Our Friend

by Audrey Barclay

Dr. Arthur Knabb is one of the noblest men I have ever met and one who has spent all of his adult life serving humanity right here in our own city. The only time he wasn't available was during World War I when he was serving his country overseas.

All too often we fail to express our appreciation for such services until it is too late -- then we eulogize them to the skies. I'd like to pay my respects publicly, while he is yet around to receive them. I'm sure there are many who will join me in this tribute.

I doubt if there are many physicians who can equal, much less surpass, the record Dr. Knabb holds in our family. He has, since I first met him in the home of  relative in 1916, attended five generations of us. I had hoped, when our eldest granddaughter came for a visit a few years ago, that her infant son would be "ripe" for a routine shot of some sort thus making a sixth generation. However, he'd had his quota so it was not to be.

Dr. Arthur was attending my grandparents, Mr. and Mrs. Z.T. West, when my family came to Springfield. So my parents, Mr. and Mrs. H. H. Brower, automatically adopted him as their physician. It was not until he returned from the service, in 1919, barely in time to attend me when the first of our nine children arrived, that I, too, became a regular patient -- and I do mean "regular." He attended me at the birth of seven of our nine children -- including a pair of twin boys. We missed connections, timewise, for the other two. After all, he did have a FEW other patients.

Our children grew up idolizing our Dr. Arthur, and on an occasion or two, when it was necessary to call on another doctor for a small emergency, it was somewhat embarrassing. Such as the time, for instance, when one of the boys had a badly infected "boil" on his arm, and his daddy took him to another doctor. After a quick look, the doctor picked up a small instrument, turned to the child and announced, "That's got to be lanced." To the father's consternation, young nine-year-old Paul backed off and said: "Oh, no you don't! Dr. Arthur can, but you can't."

Our children, of course, made the fourth generation, and when they were grown and starting families of their own, they, too, relied on the faithful doctor until he had delivered several of the fifth generation. Then, time and circumstances (mostly when they began to scatter during World War II) broke the chain so far as our children were concerned, although they still love and respect him.

I could write a book about the experiences we shared, some amusing, others heartbreaking. Of the former, one that stands out most vividly in my mind is the time I called the doctor to our home because of the illness of one of the other children and asked him to examine another of the boys, who had a bad speech impediment -- when he spoke at all, which was not often. We were quite distressed, thinking the child was tongue-tied, and that he must go through life with the problem. Then, I read somewhere that the condition could be corrected, so I thought it a good time to ask advice on the matter. Dr. Arthur carefully examined the child, asking a few pertinent questions, then turned to me with a sly grin and said, "No, he's not tongue-tied. His tongue is as loose as a woman's." He ducked away in an exaggerated way as if he expected me to start swinging. His wonderful sense of humor is not the least of his qualities. He was filled with compassion and pity and never too busy to offer them when the occasion called for it, nor to offer a prayer beside the bedside of a dying man.

Some of our experiences are too heartbreaking to dwell on, but some of the lesser ones I can now recall with a sense of amazement. I remember when the twins were about six months old and they, (Nos. 6 and 7), together with the son just older, got whooping cough. Two weeks later the entire seven of them also contracted measles! Dr. Arthur came every day for two weeks or more and gave shots to the three babies to avoid the possibility of pneumonia. We didn't have all the "miracle" drugs then that are now so common.

A few years later, after the last of our nine was two or three years old, (I suppose the Barclays must have started this population explosion about which there is so much discussion now), the whole tribe -- with the exception of the middle child -- came down with the mumps. Talk about a SWELL time! Fortunately, there were no ill after-effects, and we can laugh about it now!

The story would not be complete without a brief resume of the other side of the picture.

As everyone knows, the Knabbs were a family of doctors. I claim the honor of having been attended, at various times, by three generations of them. It began shortly after my marriage in 1918, during the epidemic of influenza that was then sweeping the continent. It was necessary that I call a doctor, and, since Dr. Arthur was in service, his father, Dr. Enoch Knabb, was called to attend me, making the first generation of them to serve me. Then, [when] Dr. Arthur suffered a heart attack a few years ago and was out of service for a time, I found it necessary to consult a physician on a serious matter so, of course, I went to his son, Dr. Kenneth, who has attended me ever since, making three generations of the family to have been my personal physician -- and friend, I trust.

Now it seems but right and proper that I pay my tribute to a real gentleman:  Thank you, and God bless you, Dr. Arthur Knabb, for your kindness, courtesy and great Christian heart. I wish there were more like you!

********

Editor's Note: The above article is one that Grandma did get published. Click on the image below to see how her words looked in newsprint.

If They're the Famous Side of the Family, Does That Make Us the Infamous Ones?

The other night I watched a movie on television specifically because it starred an actor named Troy Garity. Oh, and Sissy Spacek, you probably all know her. Now, if you don't know who Troy Garity is, you may be wondering why I decided to tell you about his movie here on a blog that's dedicated to my Grandma Audrey. I'll explain:

Troy Garity is the son of actress Jane Fonda and grandson of her equally famous father, Henry Fonda. And if you're related to Audrey Smith Barclay, then you're also related, albeit very distantly, to Troy and Jane and Henry and Jane's actor brother, Peter, and Peter's actress daughter, Bridget.

I discovered our connection to the Fonda family a few years ago when I was reading Peter Fonda's autobiography, Don't Tell Dad: A Memoir, and came across a name that was familiar to me from studying our own family history. That name sent me running down a trail that eventually led back to one Douwe Jellise Fonda and his wife, Rebecca Conyn, who turned out to be Audrey's seventh-great-grandparents on her father's side. Among Douwe and Rebecca's children were a daughter, Hester (Audrey's sixth-great-grandmother), and a son, Jillis (the sixth-great-grandfather of Jane Fonda). That makes Audrey Lou Smith Barclay and Jane (Lady Jayne Seymour) Fonda eighth cousins--no "removes" despite the difference in their ages. (Jane's ancestors evidently didn't "go forth and multiply" as rapidly as ours did.)

Here's a little chart I put together to show you the lineage of both Audrey and Jane. You'll probably need to click on it to enlarge it:

Note:  To print a full-page copy of this descendant chart, click here.

When the chart appears in a new window, click on its little printer icon.

Does this information suddenly pique your interest in Fonda films? I thought it might. If you'd like to know more about Henry Fonda, you can click here. If you want to know more about Jane, you can click here to read a bio or here to watch an interview she did three months ago. As for Cousin Troy, who unknowingly prompted this post, he's a fine young actor. His movie, Lake City, was very good, and you can watch the trailer for it by clicking right here.

One more thing:  if this is the first time you've heard about this family connection, please don't feel as if you've been left out of the loop. I'm pretty sure the Fondas aren't aware of it yet, either. They're gonna be so excited!

About Audrey's Birth Family

How about a little family history? Nina Barclay Beatie, Audrey's eldest daughter, shared some of it with me in an informative, entertaining email on March 26, 2006. Here, with minor edits for clarity and a few pictures sprinkled in for good measure, is what Nina wrote:

"Ernest Ray Smith was the son of Amy and [Samuel] Smith who came from Pennsylvania after the Johnstown Flood and settled in Stone County (Galena) Mo. There were several children, including Ernest Ray, Arb and Omar, adults.

Samuel S. Smith, Audrey's paternal grandfather.

Amy Lucinda (Hagadorn) Smith, Audrey's paternal grandmother.

In later years (left to right):

Arba, Anna (Omar's wife), Amy, Ernest, and Omar Smith

"Ernest was a carpenter and so was his father. They traveled around the country doing construction. They built the high school in Stotts City where Grandma [Minnie] West Brower lived with her family. The men all worked in the lead mines in that area. Minnie West (Mom's mother) met Ernest there, I think, while his parents lived in Galena on a farm they homesteaded. Their sons, Arb and Omar, were deaf mutes. They sent them to a school for the deaf in Iowa where Omar met and married a woman also a student there. They traveled on to California where he and Anna established a very lucrative real estate business. Arb came home to live until his parents both died, and Ernest stayed there on the 40-acre homestead and took care of him until his death. That occurred after [Ernest] and Minnie were parents of Audrey Lou Smith.

Ernest Ray Smith (Audrey's father)

Minnie Lee West Smith Brower (Audrey's mother)

"[Ernest] liked his home brew a bit too much for Minnie, and she divorced him for that reason when Mom was just a very small child. Minnie claimed that she married Ernest so that her parents would have one less mouth to feed. Great reason. Anyway, she turned around and married Harve Brower, a lead mine worker. Sad to say, he was also a boozer. But she stayed with him through the birth of 4 more daughters. Maybe drinking is different if you truly love someone.

(Rear) Audrey Barclay

(Front) Harve, Etta, and Minnie West Brower

Harve Brower was Etta's father, Audrey's stepfather.

"[Minnie} left [Harve] about 1931 or '2. It was a funny sight when she came driving up in an old Model-T car in front of our house. She had never driven before but she coaxed that car from the farm in Fair Grove to our house and announced she had found Harve in the back forty with the woman from the neighboring forty. Mom and Dad took her in and she never married again.

"She had no money, so despite the fact she had 4 other daughters, she lived with us for a number of years. I am sure she earned her keep helping with the 9 of us. However, when FDR came up with the Social Security plan and made it possible for people like her to get a small pittance from the government (I think it was Harold who took her down to apply, although it was against her will), she wasn't going to accept charity. Don't know what she thought she was getting from Mom and Dad. Anyway, when she started getting checks, it was a paltry sum, but by the time she died, she was getting $60 a month.

Audrey with her mother and four stepsisters.

Front row (L-R): Minnie, Neva, Irma

Back row (L-R): Velma, Etta, Audrey

"Aunt Etta had gone to the farm and gathered up some of [Minnie's] personal things and enough furniture that she rented two rooms in a home and set up housekeeping. Mom and Dad took out a small burial policy on her, so just in case something happened they could pay their share of her final expenses. She lived there for a number of years. Her other girls were able to keep her in clothing. Christmas and birthdays she always got quality clothes, coats, shoes and such from the girls. When she died, she had accumulated savings enough to pay for her burial from Social Security. Now that is money management.

"Don't think she ever went hungry during that time. She was one person I know who could go into a kitchen and come up with a delicious meal with very little. She could make the most delicious biscuits and gravy, coconut cakes, fried chicken, et cetera. She was a God fearing woman and attended church regularly. She had very little joy in her life but she was so bitter about Ernest that she deprived Mom of any interaction with her dad.

"After Mom and Dad were married, Mom learned that [Ernest] did not abandon her. He went on to California to work in the construction field and made good money. He used to send money for Mom, and [Grandma] would return it. He also sent things to Mom and Grandma would not let her have them. One year he sent a beautiful doll to her for Christmas, but Grandma would not let her play with it. She hung it up on a wall like it was a picture, and one of Mom's sisters wanted to play with it. Grandma refused, but Etta threw something at it and knocked it off the wall and broke it. Mom never forgot that incident, nor did she let Etta forget it.

"I was just a small child when Mom got a letter from [Ernest] asking if he could come to Springfield to see her. She was so thrilled, and from then on Grandma had no say in that relationship. By that time he had returned from California to Galena to take care of his brother. We would drive down there sometimes on Sunday, and he was always thrilled. Another thing he did was that he always sent a birthday card with a dollar bill enclosed to each of us kids. He was a kindly person, and he made his own home brew, which he bottled and tied the bottles together with rope and kept in the well to keep them cool. He was so well traveled that he kept us fascinated with some of his stories. When he died, he left that 40-acre homestead to Mom. She later sold it. But that was her only legacy."

Erna's Nearest Ancestors

Audrey's Nearest Ancestors

The Year 1933

by Audrey Barclay

Most young people stare in disbelief as though they'd like to say, "You're crazy; 1933 couldn't have been that bad," when their elders start reminiscing of those days.

It was another year of depression, despair, breadlines, bank failures, and suicides of epidemic proportions because of financial losses. Work was scarce, wages low for those who had employment. We were among the lucky ones; my husband was a car-carpenter for the railroad, but was often idle several days at the end of the month. No money, no work, so smaller pay.

During that memorable year our family grew to thirteen when our last child arrived in May and two months later my mother and sister came to live with us. It was hard enough to feed and clothe so many, much less make the $11.95 monthly payment on our home. The boys wore overalls that were patched upon patches, and I searched remnant counters for cottons for shirts and dresses. I made quilts from the left-over bits of materials; there were beds in every room but the kitchen.

Franklin D. Roosevelt was inaugurated that year for his first term as president. Within minutes after the ceremony his first official act was to close every bank in the country, indefinitely, in what proved to be a successful move to stabilize the economic structure of our nation.

Later, when prohibition was repealed, and women's skirts crept to knee-length, everyone knew the world was headed for perdition. 'Twas not so!

**********

Editor's Note: Grandma Audrey didn't know it at the time she wrote the above piece, but she was actually a distant relative of President Franklin Delano Roosevelt:  half-sixth cousin, twice removed. Their common ancestor was a Dutchman, Jan Barensten Kunst, who came from the Netherlands to America aboard the "Gilded Beaver" in 1658.