Me and William McGee

Well, after dealing with Levi Overholser's shady past, I think it's time to clean things up a little bit on the blog. So let me move over to the other side of the family and tell you about my ancestor the preacher.

The Rev. William McGee (1768–1817) is credited in many works as one of the men who kick-started a huge religious revival that began on the Kentucky-Tennessee frontier and spread across the country at the beginning of the 19th century. (It is known today as the Second Great Awakening.) A series of small revivals that included William and his brother John culminated in the Cane Ridge Revival in 1801--a weekend camp meeting that brought thousands of people to a rural church in Kentucky for what a Vanderbilt University historian has called "arguably . . . the most important religious gathering in all of American history." William McGee is also noted for being one of the founders of the Cumberland Presbyterian Church, a denomination that split from the Presbyterians a few years later.

Before I go on, I should tell you how William fits into our family. He was Blanche Vermillion Branch's great-great-great-grandfather, a great-grandfather of her grandmother Martha Burrow. I realize there's a lot of generations between us and William, but over time I'll fill in the gaps. But for now, here's his story:

William McGee was born in 1768 in Guilford County, North Carolina. He was the fifth and youngest child of John and Martha (McFarlane) McGee, Scotch-Irish Prebyterians who were among the wealthiest people in the county. John McGee died in 1773, when William was only five years old, but John left his family well provided for, and his mother later married William Bell, a mill owner who was himself very well off. (Martha McFarlane McGee Bell has a remarkable story of her own connected to Cornwallis's campaign through North Carolina in 1781. I'll get to that story in another post.)

When he was ten years old, William began studying with the Rev. David Caldwell, a local Presbyterian minister and Princeton graduate who ran a well-regarded academy for boys. Caldwell's school was described by a 19th-century historian as "an Academy, a College, and a Theological Seminary" where students studied classical languages and theology. The school trained many of the ministers who would go on to fuel the religious revival. William, intending to become a minister, spent ten years studying with Caldwell and was, it is suggested, impeccably prepared for the ministry by the time he was twenty.

The only trouble was, he didn't feel that he had had the "conversion experience" that he felt was necessary to his Christian life, and was burdened by the spectre of sin. His older brother John later wrote: "His distress was unspeakable, under a conscious sense of the frowns of an angry God which hung over him. This may seem strange to some, when they are informed of the manner of his life prior to this time. I do not believe he ever drank a pint of ardent spirits, or swore a profane oath, in his life. He was the most moral youth I ever saw."

And John, it seems, knew from sin. While William was studying his Greek, Latin, and Hebrew, John--"a wild young man," one source tells us--ran off and bummed around on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. While he was away, he wrote home with a big surprise for his mother and brother: with no formal training at all, John had joined the Methodists and had quickly become a preacher on the traveling circuit.

I should explain that the Methodists and Baptists who were traveling the South after the Revolution were seen as a threat to the Presbyterian domination of the Scotch-Irish. The Methodists and Baptists were preaching a more experiential, less intellectual religion, and a more inclusive gospel that suggested that people could, by embracing Christ and the church, effect their own salvation. This was contrary to the Presbyterian doctrine of predestination--the idea that God had predetermined who would be saved and who would not, and nothing people could do could change their fate. People who had just won a war for the right to govern themselves were receptive to the Baptists and Methodists telling them that they could have a role in their eternal life as well.

Martha Bell so disapproved of her son's new faith that she considered disowning him. When he came home two years later, he wanted to hold prayer with his family. His mother was opposed, but WIlliam persuaded her that they should hear him out. As a historian later said, "they soon began to believe there was a change in him and began to treat him with respect."

John's arrival seems to have helped William sort out his doubts and fears. As one historian put it: "William McGee was chosen by the family to be a preacher, but God made a preacher first of John McGee, and he was God's instrument in the conversion of his brother, who soon began to preach the Gospel."

We don't know when William became a licensed Presbyterian minister, but it was probably around 1795. Not long after that, he and John both went out to the Tennessee frontier to preach. William took charge of a congregation in Sumner County, in the middle of the state's long border with Kentucky, a place where religion was seen to be in decline.

And this is where it gets interesting. The Presbyterians of that day carried on an old Scotch-Irish ritual of holding communion in large groups about four times a year. People would come from long distances and be tested on matters of religious faith and knowledge before they were permitted to take communion. It was at one of these, at Red River Church across the border in Kentucky, in June 1800, that the first stirrings of revival were seen. William McGee was invited to participate, as was his brother John--a sign of Presbyterian-Methodist cooperation on the frontier. I'll let Mike Sublett of Restoration magazine tell it from there:

Friday, Saturday, and Sunday passed quietly and reverently - as these Presbyterian Communions were wont to go. On Monday, though, as one local minister preached, a woman who had long sought assurance for her salvation began shouting and singing. The preacher concluded the sermon, and all the ministers left the church - except for the McGee brothers.

Presbyterian William sat on the floor near the pulpit and began weeping. Soon the congregation was weeping, seeking the full security for salvation. Methodist John rose to preach; a witness said he exhorted people to let "the Lord God omnipotent reign in their hearts, and to submit to him."

People began to cry and shout.

Then the woman who had first started shouting let out a shrill of anguish. Methodist John McGee, seemingly entranced, made his way to comfort her. Someone (probably his Presbyterian brother) reminded him this was a Presbyterian church; the congregation would not condone emotionalism! Later John recalled, "I turned to go back and was near falling; the power of God was strong upon me. I turned again and, losing sight of the fear of man, I went through the house shouting and exhorting with all possible ecstasy and energy, and the floor was soon covered with the slain" - people were falling in ecstasy.

James McGready, the minister who had presided over that meeting, knew he was on to something, and scheduled what is considered the first religious camp meeting a month later at Gaspar River Meeting House, not far from Red River. The results were just like Red River, and William McGee is said to have preached with passion. "Towards the close of the sermon," McGready later wrote, "the cries of the distressed arose almost as loud as his voice."

The revivals continued in other locations that fall, and among those who heard about them was Barton Stone, another Presbyterian minister and former student of David Caldwell, McGee's former teacher. Stone was pastor of a church at Cane Ridge, Kentucky, in Bourbon County near Lexington. (He would later be one of the founders of the Restoration movement, out of which the Disciples of Christ and Church of Christ denominations were born.) In the spring of 1801 Stone attended one of the camp meetings he'd been hearing about on the Tennessee-Kentucky border, and he came back with plans for his own, which took place in August 1801. He spread the word that it would be an experience not to be missed, and the turnout was greater than anyone expected. The McGee brothers came to preach, among many other ministers, and many thousands of people descended on the rural spot--far more than the locals could accommodate. I've seen estimates ranging from 10,000 to 40,000 people. One writer has called it "The Religious Woodstock of 1801."

Cane Ridge is as famous for the excesses of enthusiasm that occurred there--a kind of mass hysteria--as is it is for its influence on American religion. Stone himself later described some of the things that went on, which he described as "religious exercises": "falling" (the fainting previously described); "the jerks," a series of spasm-like movements that sometimes affected the head and sometimes the whole body; a beatific kind of dancing; "barking," which was just the jerks accompanied by grunts; an entirely solemn and humorless laughter; and singing.

All this made the traditional Presbyterian authorities uneasy, and their support for the revival movement was tepid. It was this tension that would soon lead to a split between the larger Presbyterian body and the ministers on the Kentucky-Tennessee frontier.

But the presenting issue was not theology or worship style but education. It was hard to get qualified preachers on the frontier, and in McGee's presbytery, they had ordained a number of young men who had not had a formal education in theology and ancient languages. McGee took the side of the "young men," as they were known during the long dispute with the larger church that followed. I imagine he was torn--he himself had been the product of a careful and rigorous education, and yet he had seen the powerful work that his Methodist brother and other untrained ministers had been doing on the frontier.

Beyond the question of education was another one that the revivals brought to the fore: McGee and many of his fellow Presbyterians on the frontier, witnessing the sensational and dramatic conversion experiences of the revival, began to have doubts about the doctrine of predestination. McGee himself is said to have been deeply confused and undecided about this, and his uncertainty kept him from signing on right away when some of his colleagues took steps to separate from the larger church in 1809. But by 1810 he joined the new Cumberland Presbyterian denomination and indeed is considered one of its founders.

McGee continued to preach in frontier churches until his death in Tennessee in 1817. He and his wife Anna King--the sister of one of his ministerial colleagues--had eight children. One of them, named Martha for his mother, married James Burrow and moved to Lawrence County, Missouri. (Most of the McGees moved to a different part of Missouri after William's death.) Among James and Martha's children was a son named William for his preacher grandfather. William Burrow died in the Civil War, fighting for the Union in the battle of Fayetteville. His wife, Frances Stacy, died around the same time, leaving two orphaned daughters-- Artelia Jane and Martha Burrow. Martha later married John Washington Vermillion; they were the parents of Walter Vermillion, Blanche Branch's father.

Blanche, of course, was a Methodist, and whatever pride she might have had in her ancestor (I found all this information and shared it with her late in her life) was probably tempered by the fact that William was not a Methodist. But he came as close as a Presbyterian could--to the point of not being a very good Presbyterian! And one detail I didn't find until recently would surely have pleased her. As some of you know, Francis Asbury was one of the leading lights of Methodism--John Wesley himself appointed Asbury as one of the two first Methodist bishops in America, and he led American Methodism for 32 years, taking time to travel throughout the country preaching. He kept a journal of his travels, and on January 26, 1790, he stopped in on William McGee's family in North Carolina. Here is what he wrote: "Thence we went to Mr. William Bell's, on Deep River, and were received in the kindest manner; before I left the house, I felt persuaded that that family would come to experience the power of religion."

Asbury nailed it.

A Bad Apple on the Family Tree?

All right, I think all you Overholser descendants had better sit down. This is not easy to say, but there is increasing evidence that Levi Overholser just may have been, well, something of a crook. I was prepared to dismiss his reported willingness to settle disputes with a revolver as just evidence of a colorful character. But now, from the same intrepid historian who turned up the details of Levi's involvement in the railroad business (thanks again!), come these two newspaper items from 1868, when the Overholsers were apparently living in Vincennes, Indiana (which was news to me).

First this one:

The most of our readers have doubtless heard of the failure of Mr. Levi Overholser, of Vincennes, formerly doing business at Palestine. There has been a great deal of gossip as to his real failure, and some suits growing out of the matter in order to test the legality of certain sales of property made by him at about the time of his failure. A week or two ago a suit was instituted in the U. S. District Court, at Indianapolis, to compel him to go into bankruptcy. The following item, which we find in the Indianapolis Journal, would seem to indicate that his failure (?) did not leave him in a penniless condition:
"Mr. L. Overholser, a wealthy citizen of Vincennes, Indiana, lately secreted in his house about $16,000, and contrived to let it become known that he had the money. One night last week the house was entered by burglars, completely ransacked, the money found, and the thieves got safely off with it. The owner would be willing to give $2,000 for the recovery of the money."
--Robinson Argus, April 30, 1868

Then, a week later,

THE OVERHOLSER ROBBERY AT VINCENNES
Last week we copied an item from the Indianapolis Journal in relation to the robbery of Levi Overholser of the sum of $16,000. -- Since then we find in the Journal the following item in a letter from Vincennes. Overholser was charged of having acted dishonestly before the announcement of this theft, and if the money was stolen it but confirms these charges. Mr. O. is very generally believed to be the real owner of some $15,000 worth of real estate in this county, and which he very conveniently has in the name of another party in order to keep his creditors from getting hold of it:
"The Overholser robbery seems to have created more excitement out of Vincennes than in it. The business transactions of Mr. O. have not been of the most creditable character. -- When his creditors desired a settlement he seemed to have no money to pay them, and proclaimed himself a bankrupt, though all the time he has been doing a thriving business. No one here seemed to have any confidence in him or sympathy for him, and when the robbery was proclaimed it produced a smile of doubt rather than tears of sympathy. No headlines announced the robbery in our county papers, while the editorial comments made were anything but flattering to the loser. If Mr. O. had sixteen thousand dollars to lose, he would have had many to sympathize with him for his great loss if he had given any indication that he intended to pay his honest debts."
--Robinson Argus, May 7, 1868

So this looks . . . not so good. But you will notice that both of these items--and the previous one about his pulling a gun on a business associate--come from the same newspaper. I think the only thing we can REALLY conclude is that the Robinson Argus was blatantly anti-Overholser and clearly had it in for Levi. Right? Right?

Or maybe he was just a crook. As I told the historian who found the clips, I'd feel guilty about living off his ill-gotten gains if we still had any.

Levi Overholser's Guide to Business Negotiation

I used to wonder if the Overholser brothers faced much danger in those chaotic first days of Oklahoma City, when law enforcement was spotty and property disputes could turn ugly very fast. But it looks like Levi Overholser, at least, could hold his own--and wasn't afraid to draw a six-shooter if necessary.

I mentioned below that a railroad historian had found references to Levi's involvement in the building of a narrow-gauge railroad in Illinois before he moved to Kansas and Oklahoma. That historian has very kindly sent me those references, mostly from Illinois and Indiana newspapers between 1878 and 1882. It sems that Levi was one of several businessmen that built a section of this railroad from Switz City, Indiana, to Effingham, Illinois.

The project was financially troubled, and some of the builders went bankrupt. Levi and some others filed a suit against the main construction company in 1878. A volume called "History of Greene and Sullivan Counties" explains that "This proved to be the most fruitful cause for litigation ever in the [county?] and for some time gave almost constant employment to the entire Sullivan bar as well as a number of attorneys from other places, especially Chicago." So in addition to hiring hundreds of men to build the railroad, our Levi was doing his part to create jobs for lawyers, too.

The newspaper clips mainly discuss the progress of the railroad, with frequent mentions of Levi or Lee Overholser and the firm of Overholser and Schafer. At about the time it was finished in 1880, this item appeared in the Argus, a newspaper in Robinson, Illinois, a town along the railroad line and near Palestine, where Levi and his family are known to have lived:

"Monday morning at Palestine some pretty warm words passed between E. Pratt Buell, General Manager of the narrow gauge railroad, and Levi Overholser, late contractor on the road, relative to a sum of money borrowed from Overholser by Buell, which the latter claimed he had repaid. Overholser drew his revolver, and was only prevented from shooting by the prompt interference of bystanders."

As far as the larger financial dispute over the railroad is concerned, Levi appears to have settled not for blood but for 65 cents on the dollar--the amount one of the financiers paid to the main construction company's creditors when he took it over.

Levi bought four shares of the completed railroad in 1882, at which time he is listed as a resident of Newton, Illinois, one county west of Palestine. The family must have moved there after the 1880 census. An item in the "Local Correspondence from Palestine" column in the Robinson Argus from July 12, 1882, supports this: "Mrs. Mary Overholser and Hattie returned to their home in Newton Wednesday."

Levi's Railroad Ties

I got an e-mail in response to my recent post about Levi Overholser from someone who has researched the Effingham, Springfield, & South Eastern Railroad, a line that ran through Palestine, Illinois. He said that the major subcontractor that built the line (ca. 1878-1881) was the firm of Overholser and Schafer, and that one of the partners in that company was one Levi Overholser, also known as Lee. While we can't be sure it's our Lee, there may well be something to it.

I don't know what excites me more: having another piece of the historical puzzle, or knowing that someone actually read the blog!

Salathiel, Jeroboam, and More

You can hit a brick wall pretty fast when you try to research a surname as common as Jones. Our Jones line disappears into Jackson County, Alabama, in the 1820s, when our ancestor William "Billy" Jones was born there. We know that Billy's father was born in South Carolina, but we do not know his name. A cousin who has been doing genealogy research for years has tried to track down Billy Jones's father, and while she's not found anything close to definite, she has found some possibilities. My favorite is a man named Salathiel Jones who lived in Jackson County at the right time, was born in South Carolina, and had a son around Billy's age. I'd love to have a Salathiel in the family, wouldn't you?

Thinking about Salathiel reminds me that there a bunch of cool and/or weird names in my family history. Here are a few favorites. Depending on which side of the family you're on, some of these may be in your tree too. Feel free to consider them if you're planning a family:

Jeroboam Howard (b. 1759): an ancestor of George Bailey Paxton on his mother's side. Jeroboam, like Salathiel, is an Old Testament name. (At left is King Jeroboam, from the first book of Kings.) Those were big in the 19th century.

Jehu Jehu: C.M. Branch's great-grandfather. There were at least three generations with this identical first name-last name combination in his mother's Welsh family.

Grizzie Riddle (1826-1876): Billy Jones's wife. The name Grizzie was not all that uncommon among the Scotch-Irish; it derived from Griselde, a name that appears in the Canterbury Tales. Still, I'll give five bucks to anyone who honors the family legacy by naming their daughter Grizzie.

Ferdinando Thayer (1625-1713): an ancestor of Cal Jones via his father's mother, the source of my only New England ancestors. Ferdinando was an early settler of Mendon, Massachusetts, and, it is said, a renowned wrestler. I don't know anything about the origin of the name, but it definitely sticks out amid a bunch of Isaacs and Thomases in the Thayer family.

Argyle Blackstone (b. 1650): also from way back in Cal Jones's grandmother's family, but from a Virginia line. This one always sounded like someone from a romance novel--kind of a Rhett Butler type, maybe.

Charity Grubb (1687-1761): an ancestor of Cal's other grandmother. The name Charity appears many times in this Quaker family, but "Charity Grubb" sounds like a name for a soup kitchen.

Johan Andersson, aka Stalkofta (1627-1685): a distant ancestor of Cal's mother. Johan came to America as part of the Swedish settlement called New Sweden (later Delaware). He became known as "Stalkofta"--or "steel coat"--among the other Swedish settlers, apparently because of his habit of wearing armor when hanging around the fort. He took the name as a surname, and it was gradually anglicized to "Stalcop," a name still seen frequently in the Southern U.S. Any of you who are unsatisfied with your current surname might consider a favorite article of apparel: "Bob Fleecepullover," maybe, or "Karen Haltertop."

Gruffydd Nannau (b. 1568): a Welsh ancestor of Clara Paxton via Levi Overholser's mother. The Welsh names always look like someone was typing with their eyes shut--and sound like something from Star Wars.

Anybody out there know some good ones I left out?

The Other Overholser

You don't have to look very deep into the history of Oklahoma City to encounter the names of Henry Overholser (1846-1915) and Edward Overholser (1869-1931). Henry came to the city on the day of the 1889 Land Run with six prefabricated wood-frame buildings (above) on railroad cars and quickly became an important real estate and entertainment impresario. The mansion he built in 1903 was for years the city's social center (and is now a house museum operated by the Oklahoma Historical Society).

Edward, Henry's son by his first marriage, inherited some of his father's interests but succeeded where his father had failed: he was elected mayor of Oklahoma City in 1915. (Oklahoma City history blogger Doug Loudenback has written about Henry and Edward on his blog.) It was primarily for Edward but also in part for Henry that the city's reservoir was named Lake Overholser in 1918.

But what does this have to do with my humble origins, you ask? Some of you who are Clara Paxton's descendants or relatives already know that there are Overholsers in our tree: we descend from Henry's older brother Levi (Lee) Overholser (1836–1905), who also came to Oklahoma City in its early days and also did well in business there, though not as spectacularly as his brother. If, as is often said, Henry Overholser was the father of Oklahoma City, that would make our Lee the uncle of Oklahoma City (and me the city's first cousin thrice removed!).

So here's where the Overholser brothers came from: They were born on a farm in Montgomery County, Ohio, near present-day Dayton, sons of John and Elizabeth (Niswonger) Overholser. Their grandfather, Jacob Overholser, was a blacksmith in Pennsylvania before moving to Ohio, and his children were all baptized in the Lutheran-Reformed Church. (The Overholsers of our acquaintance would later be Presbyterians--a close fit theologically with the Calvinism of the Reformed church and probably a concession to the fact that the German Protestant churches were harder to find as they moved southwest.) The Overholser family was German in origin, while Elizabeth Niswonger's forebears (originally Neuenschwangers before they met up with Scotch-Irish attempts to pronounce the name in the hills of Virginia) had come from Switzerland.

Levi and Henry were among 13 children in their family, and it was probably assumed that they, too, would be farmers. The 1850 census shows a 14-year-old Levi on his father's farm, listed as a "laborer." But Levi and Henry both ended up leaving the farm for careers in business--the earliest among any of my ancestors to trade farm life for small-town life.

In the 1860 census, we find Levi living in a hotel in Palestine, Illinois, a town near the Indiana line and about 230 miles from his father's farm. His occupation is "clerk." Also in Palestine in that census is Mary Young, an 18-year-old living with her siblings and widowed mother. (Her father, we know from the previous census, was a shoemaker.) The next year, 1861, Levi and Mary were married. We don't find them in the 1870 census, but we know from other sources that all five of their children who survived into adulthood were born in Palestine between 1863 and 1875. Levi's obituary says that he was "engaged in the general merchandise business and made a success of it" during this period. (They say this happened in Ohio, but the Oklahoman was apparently no less prone to error in 1905 than it is now.) In the 1880 census, no occupation is given for Levi, but he is listed in Palestine with Mary and their five children: "Elley, Charley, Gracey, Hattie M., and William."

Meanwhile, Henry Overholser had left home by 1870. He was living with his wife and two children in Sullivan, Indiana, just 23 miles from Palestine. Probably not coincidentally, he lived next door to Mary Young's brother William, and both were in the dry goods business. There was probably a good deal of collaboration in business among this network of kin.

Some time after 1880, the family left Illinois for southeastern Kansas. We don't know for sure when Levi and Mary moved there, but their oldest child, Ella, married J.C. Haskett in Illinois in 1880 and gave birth to their first child, Frank, in Baxter Springs, Kansas, in 1883.

We don't know why the family moved west, but the usual answer was economic opportunity. It's possible that the Overholsers were already casting their eyes on the Unassigned Lands of Oklahoma, as the Boomer Movement to open those lands had begun as early as 1879. Levi and Mary's oldest son, Charley, spent some time in the territory before the Land Run, according to his 1928 obituary in the Valley Falls (KS) Vindicator: "As a young man Charley had more than the average share of adventure as a cow-boy on the plains of the Indian Territory in the days immediately proceeding [sic] the opening of Oklahoma, when all the bad men from the entire nation seemed to naturally gravitate to this last 'no-man's land.'"

In the meantime, Henry had made his way to Wisconsin, made a fortune, divorced his wife, and was looking toward Oklahoma himself. But unlike so many who came and pitched tents, Henry built some of the city's first "permanent" structures (in quotes because he soon replaced them with brick buildings). And though he's never mentioned in the history books, Levi was there very early on: in an 1889 Oklahoma City directory, Henry is living at 201-1/2 West Grand, on the second floor of one of his buildings, and Levi and his 15-year-old son Will are next door in another of the prefabs at 203-1/2.

According to Levi's obituary, he didn't move to Oklahoma City until 1892 or '93. But I suspect he and perhaps Will spent a lot of time there in the intervening years, waiting until a semblance of order and civility had been established before bringing Mary to the city. (The other children all left home around this time: Grace married George Paxton in 1893 and was living in Joplin, Missouri; Hattie married Bert L. Jones that same year and lived in Columbus, Kansas. Ella and J.C. Haskett remained in Baxter Springs (before moving to Oklahoma City in 1912), and Charley had traded in the adventurous life of a cow-boy for a career in dry goods in Valley Falls, Kansas.)

While Henry Overholser promoted railroads, telephones, an opera house, the state fair, and real estate, Levi dealt in property and insurance in a partnership called Overholser and Avey. In 1893, Levi and Mary traveled to Chicago for the Worlds Fair (as we know from a souvenir handkerchief of Mary's); the fair's gleaming vision of a planned, classical city must have inspired the Overholsers--and shown them what a long way their young city had to go.

When Henry built his mansion in 1903--way out in the cornfields of NW 15th Street--he and Anna (wife #2, his trophy wife) introduced it to society with a big party. The next day, as we read in the Oklahoman society page, was reserved for family: besides Henry's son Edward, they had Levi and Mary, the Hasketts, and Will Overholser and his wife Ella to dinner.

Levi died in 1905; the cause listed in the cemetery records is "stomach trouble." The Oklahoman, under the headline "Prominent Citizen Dead," reported that he left an estate of $100,000. He and Mary lived at the time at 1602 N. Robinson, an address later occupied by J.C. and Ella Haskett when they moved to the city. (Will and Ella Overholser later lived at 1610 N. Robinson. Neither home still stands.)

Mary died two years later in Baxter Springs, presumably while visiting the Hasketts there. Again, the Oklahoman reported (left, click image to enlarge) that the estate was worth about $100,000 (about $2.1 million in 2006 dollars), most of which was in real estate.

Levi and Mary had five children who survived to adulthood (we know from the 1900 census that Mary had also had five children who were no longer living, presumably having died in infancy) and at least 11 grandchildren. Here's a quick rundown:

Ella Overholser (1863–1937) married J.C. Haskett. As I said, they lived in Kansas until 1912 and then moved to Oklahoma City, where all three of their sons ended up living. Their sons were: Frank C. Haskett (1883-1967), Paul E. Haskett (1886-1966), and Clarence R. Haskett (1892-1962).

Charles L. Overholser (1865–1928) married Susan Gardiner. They had no children, but they raised Grace's orphaned daughter Clara Paxton during her teenage years.

Grace E. Overholser (1869–1901) married George Bailey Paxton. They lived in Joplin, Missouri. She died of pneumonia in 1901. George died of Bright's Disease in 1910. They had two children, George Burton Paxton (1896–1948) and Clara Paxton Jones (1899-1971).

Harriet (Hattie) M. Overholser (1873–aft. 1930) married Bert L. Jones. They lived in Columbus, Kansas, and had three children: George Lee Jones (1896–bef. 1928), Clair L. Jones (1898–?), and Helen Jones Winter (1904–?).

William Levi Overholser (1875–1964) married Ella King. They lived in Oklahoma City and had three children: Mary Overholser Meder (1898–1977), William Levi Overholser Jr. (1907–1993), and Charles Kent Overholser (1909–1962).

As always, I wish I had more information and pictures of some of these people. If you have any to share, please e-mail me at familyhistorybites@gmail.com.

UPDATE, 6/12/07: A railroad historian has sent me some newspaper references that suggest that Levi was involved in building a railroad near Palestine. It got rather contentious, and at least once Lee had to pull out his revolver. Details here.

UPDATE, 6/15/07: It gets worse. Levi may have been something of a crook. . . .

Katerina Jicha, Pioneer Woman

Today is the 118th anniversary of the Oklahoma Land Run, the day that one of my ancestors—and about 50,000 other people—tore into the Unassigned Lands of central Oklahoma in an effort to claim some of the last free land available in the country under the Homestead Act. So while today I want to salute Jiri (George) Jicha, who made the run that day, this post is mainly a tribute to his wife, Katerina (Kate) Jicha, who raised the seven children and ran the farm after George died—just eight months after staking his claim. (Kate and George were the maternal grandparents of Blanche Vermillion Branch.)

Many of you are familiar with the Pioneer Woman statue in Ponca City, a monument to "the heroic character of the women who braved the dangers and endured the hardships incident to daily life of the pioneer and homesteader in this country." There was a competition to create the statue in 1926; the winner was Bryant Baker, who titled his work "Confidence" (above). You'll notice that there is no man in the tableau. The reason for his absence is not specified, but other entries (I saw mockups of all 17 once at Woolaroc) were more explicit: I seem to remember some in which the woman was fending off marauders with her rifle as her husband's body lay nearby.

Anyway, I never gave much thought to the Pioneer Woman until a couple of years ago, when a cousin of a cousin sent me Kate Jicha’s probate file. Reading about her estate and the sequence of events made me realize we had at least one bona fide Pioneer Woman in the family—just surround the statue with six more kids and it could be our Kate.

Katerina Janda was born to Mated Janda and Magdalena Zemanova in 1842 in Zdeslav, a village in the region of Czechoslavakia known as Bohemia. (One of her great-grandsons visited the town in the 1990s.) She married Jiri Jicha sometime before 1872. When he was 41 and she was 39, they joined thousands of other Bohemians in emigrating to America.

I haven't done enough historical reading to know why the large migration happened; does anybody have any insight about it? When I asked Blanche if she knew why they came, she said she remembered her mother telling her something about people being so hungry in Bohemia that a soldier took a bite out of another soldier's arm. Make of that what you will.

With six children, George and Kate sailed for America in 1881. Blanche's mother Mollie Jicha told her that she remembered sticking her hand in the water in New York Harbor when they arrived. (They were a few years too early to see the Statue of Liberty or to be processed at Ellis Island, by the way.) They must have moved out to Nebraska right away, because their seventh child Joseph was born in Nebraska that same year.

George and Kate may have had family connections in America already. Kate's brother Joseph Janda apparently had emigrated to America around 1870.

After six years in Nebraska, the family moved to Indian Territory; I'm not sure where, but I'd guess they were in McClain County, where some of the family lived in later years. On April 22, 1889, the tenth birthday of his daughter Mary, George Jicha lined up to cross the river near Purcell and take part in the Oklahoma Land Run. The territory was opened for settlement at exactly 12 o'clock, and people raced to claim the best land they could. The family story is that George found a fine tract of land but was chased off the claim by a woman with a gun. The implication has always been that the claim was rightfully his (and that perhaps she was a "sooner"—someone who had sneaked into the territory early and squatted on a claim). But perhaps she was just a speedy and determined Pioneer Woman herself.

At any rate, as his grandson Vivian Nemecek told the story, George had to settle for "school land" east of Noble. Whole square-mile sections of Oklahoma Territory and others were set aside to be leased, the income going to fund schools in the territory. If that is indeed what George claimed, he must have bought a farm sooner or later, because the 160 acres that Kate and her family worked belonged to her at her death.

George died on December 23, 1889. He was 50 years old. Their children ranged in age from 8 to 17. They were in a place that had some Czech settlers, though apparently not the large numbers of places like Nebraska—or small pockets like Prague, Oklahoma. Kate must have lived to see her family's customs challenged by the realities of their new world. Although they had been baptized as Catholics, all of her children became Protestants, and they all took anglicized names. And although two of her daughters married fellow Czechs, the three other children who married chose American-born Anglo Saxon Protestants.

Kate only lived to see one of her children married. The match displeased her, though I don’t know why. Her daughter Josie, at age 18, married a 19-year-old farmer named John Black who had taken care of his young sisters since their father had died in 1890. Josie's descendants say that Kate "disowned" her for marrying John. This is not true in a financial sense, as Josie was treated the same as her siblings in Kate's will, but she must have registered disapproval in a way that hurt Josie. Blanche Branch once mentioned an aunt named Josie whose husband "practically kidnapped her," so there is a tale of some kind to be told there. Maybe it'll turn up over time.

Here is a picture of Kate and six of her children. (Click on it to make it larger, if not clearer.) I don't know the date, but it was probably after 1893 (when Josie married, as she is not in the picture) and before Kate died in 1897. Seated left to right are Jim, Kate, and Mollie. Standing are Mary, Joseph, Jennie, and John.

If Kate didn't like Josie's marriage, one wonders what she would have thought of her daughter Mollie's choice of husband. A few years after Kate died, the 28-year-old Mollie married 24-year-old Walter "Whit" Vermillion. Whit was a horse trader whose brother, Ira, was in the federal prison at Leavenworth for roping an old Czech farmer named Joseph Nemecek (whose sons later became Mollie's brothers-in-law) and dragging him to his death. I'll tell this story in greater detail in a later post.

Kate wrote a will (left) on May 26, 1897; she died 21 days later. She left her estate in equal shares to her seven children, but stipulated that the farm should not be sold until her youngest children, Mary and Joseph, reached 21 years old. She intended that they have the farm as a place to live until then.

The probate file includes inventories and receipts that give a glimpse into farm life at the time. In the summer of Kate’s death, the Jichas had 50 acres of corn and 14 acres of cotton, and had also raised wheat and oats. They had 8 horses, 3 mules, 12 head of cattle, 2 pigs, and assorted plows, cultivators, and wagons. When all these were sold five years later, the most expensive item was a mule that brought $100.25. (A blind mare went for $5.)

For the five years before Kate’s son Joseph reached 21, her executor, a local Czech named Joseph Valouch, had to keep track of what was bought or sold. In the meantime, the children began to leave home. In 1898, the third daughter, Johanna (Jennie), married Jim Nemecek, another native of Bohemia. By the 1900 census, only John, the second son, and Mollie, the oldest daughter, were living on the farm. Mollie left for Washington state around 1901 to marry Walter Vermillion, whose family was homesteading out there. (They would return within a few years.)

The estate was settled on August 30, 1902, the farm having been sold for $3500 to Joseph Nemecek, a brother to Jim Nemecek. Receipts in the probate file show that all Kate’s children received their share of the estate—$540.75 apiece—on August 30, except for Mollie, who received her share in Washington state a month later. (An online “inflation calculator” says that that amount would be the same as about $12,500 in 2006 dollars.)

Getting all this down, I find that I’ve learned only enough about the Jichas to realize how much I don’t know. But this is an ongoing process, and I hope I’ll have more information and insights as time goes on. In the meantime, just for the record, here are Kate and George's children and grandchildren:

1. Jim Jicha (1872–1946). He apparently had mental problems of some kind, and was institutionalized at one point. Blanche Branch remembered him fondly and viewed him as a kind of seer or psychic who predicted events in Europe like the Russian Revolution. She remembered that he called her "bobule" which I have since learned means "berry" in Czech. He did not marry.

2. Margaret (Mollie) Jicha (1873–1931). I've mentioned her marriage to Walter Vermillion. After returning from Washington, they lived in Wayne, Oklahoma. They had two children who died young, Fay and Louis. Their other two children were Blanche Vermillion (Branch) and John Walter Vermillion. Walter died in 1907, just a few months after Blanche was born. Mollie married again then divorced, after which she and Blanche moved to Oklahoma City.

3. Josefa (Josie) Jicha (1875–1912). I mentioned her marriage to John Black. They had four sons: Hugh Black, John Black, Homer Black, and Clyde Black. [UPDATE: A cousin tells me I missed John and Josie's daughter Mary. Duly noted.]

4. John C. Jicha (1876–1959). He married Emma Evatt in 1909. John ran a store in Wayne. They had five children: Evatt Jicha, John Curtis Jicha, William Paul Jicha, Doris Jicha (Lamar), and Mary Evelyn Jicha (Russell).

5. Johanna (Jennie) Jicha (1878–1966). She married Vaclav (Jim) Nemecek in 1898. They had five children: George Nemecek, Mary Katherine (Katie) Nemecek (Long), Thomas Nemecek, Margaret Nemecek (Barton), and Kenneth Nemecek.

6. Mary (Marie) Jicha (1879–1935). She married Andrew Nemecek, brother of Jim Nemecek, in 1903. They had six children: Joe Talmadge Nemecek, Murel Andrew Nemecek, Vivian Nemecek, Genevieve Josephine Nemecek (Mote), Mary Frances Nemecek, and Helen R. Nemecek.

7. Joseph Jicha (1881–?). I lose track of Joseph at 21, when he receives his share of the estate. He doesn’t appear in a census after that, and Blanche Branch never mentioned him when telling about her aunts and uncles. My assumption is that he died while still a young man.

As always, I’d love to hear from anyone who has information or just memories to share about these families. You can add to the comments below or e-mail me at familyhistorybites@gmail.com.