"Once Upon a Lifetime: in and Near Baker County, Florida," book - v.3 (file 3/3) File contributed for use in USGenWeb Archives by La Viece Smallwood (no email address), through Carl Mobley (cmobley@magicnet.net). USGENWEB NOTICE: In keeping with our policy of providing free information on the Internet, data may be used by non-commercial entities, as long as this message remains on all copied material. These electronic pages cannot be reproduced in any format for profit or other presentation. This file may not be removed from this server or altered in any way for placement on another server without the consent of the State and USGenWeb Project coordinators and the contributor. *********************************************************************** Once Upon A Lifetime Vol No. 3 In Baker County, Florida By La Viece Moore-Fraser Smallwood Copyright 1995 Copies available from the author complete with photos: Rt 2 Box 543 Macclenny, Florida 32063 Permission has been granted by the author for posting to this page. Contains biographical narratives and genealogical information on the following Baker County folks: * Cincinnati Dicks Mobley (in file 1/3) * Edgar Kirkland (in file 1/3) * Annie Rhoden Combs (in file 1/3) * Sippie Canaday Harris Hartenstine (in file 1/3) * Josephine Kirkland Crawford Arnold (in file 2/3) * Lorayne Rhoden & Lillian DuBose (in file 2/3) * Mildred Wolfe (in file 2/3) * Elva Combs Dinkins (in file 2/3) * Nellie Hart (Day-Farris) (in file 2/3) * Williams Family * Brown, Raulerson Families * The Historic Franklin Mercantile * Acknowledgements _____________________________________________________________________________ Williams Family August 1994 It's difficult to say just when the illustrious Williams family entered the backwoods of Baker County and settled in the Taylor section along the banks of the Little St. Mary's River. However, many aspects of their history exist, detailing how this family contributed to the growth of our country, state and county. Today, in 1995, thousands of descendants faithfully hold an annual reunion each April in honor of their forerunners, and meet to honor and express gratitude to those in the family who have passed down a recorded treasure of priceless sketches of their ancestors' history. According to family research penned in the historical accounts of family member J.E. "Eddie" Kelly in The Williamses of Baker County, Jocham Williams was born about 1814 in Bryant County, Georgia, near Penbroke. Kelly said Jocham, whose given name is John Daniel, settled along the north prong of the little St. Mary's River with his parents, William and Sarah Williams, at an early age. The Williams family and their thousands of collateral lines can be forever indebted to the late Folks Huxford of Homerville, Georgia, for gathering up and publishing much of the family genealogy and lineage. Researchers of the Baker County Williams clan can consult Huxford's Volumes IV and VII to trace the first-known clan member, William Williams, and his son, Samuel, born 1759 in Dublin County, N.C. Samuel owned 250 acres of land there with a water-mill. Samuel's widow, Deliah Nevill, drew land as the widow of the Revolutionary soldier in the 1827 land lottery because Samuel was an ensign in the Effingham County, Georgia, militia from 1793-96. From Samuel and "Dilly's" union, nine children were born. Their fourth child, William, was said to have been born in 1790 in South Carolina while his parents were en route to Georgia. He married Sarah Harvey on March 4, 1813 and moved from Bulloch County, Georgia, to Columbia County, Florida. His older brother, John F., who married Sarah Stanford on August 10, 1813, moved with them. William was a captain in the Indian War in 1839. He and Sarah -- born in 1796 in Bryant County, Georgia, the daughter of Richard Harvey, a Revolutionary soldier -- had at least eight known children. When William moved his family to what was then Columbia County in 1832, he settled in the portion cut off into New River, later changed to Baker County. Another, besides his brother John, who moved with him from Bulloch and Bryan Counties, Georgia, was his wife's brother, John Harvey. William served several enlistments in the Florida militia. He was also justice of Peace in Columbia County in the 1840s before his homestead land was cut into Baker. He died at his Baker County home about 1860, followed in a few years by his wife, Sarah. Their first son, John Daniel, known to everyone as Jocham, first married Rebecca (Becky), daughter of Abner W. and Rebecca Sweat Harvey. They were the parents of twelve known children. Jocham's second wife was Georgia Ann, widow of Malachi Anderson, and together they were the parents of nine known children, all identified with personal sketches in Kelly's The Williamses of Baker County. Today, when one rides out north of Sanderson on CR 229 approximately ten miles to East Tower Forest Road 202, a prominent sign with an arrow to the right announces the Williams Family Cemetery. Turning right onto 202, one travels about a mile and a half to Forest Road 204 that intersects with 202 from the right. Just to the left is a car trail that leads one to the tranquil banks of the Little St. Mary's River and to the secluded spot of land the pioneering Williams' family once called home. Nearby is the lone resting place of Jocham, said to be, at his request, near his favorite fishing hole. A Confederate flag ripples slightly as a delicate breeze touches it in the hot August sun. it expresses dignity and lends vivid color against the lone grave nestled in the somber cemetery inclosure, and casts its honorable glory in dancing shadows on Jocham's modest grave. This place is hallowed and sacred to a proud Williams clan. Before the Williams family, there were primitive Indian tribes that inhabited the area by the white sandy shoreline of this serene and peaceful river. Their consecrated burial mound is prominently visible today, only a few feet away from the tranquil river's south bank. A modern sign, erected by the United States Government, states: "Enjoy, but do not destroy your American Heritage". The sign clearly notes that if you dig on this spot you will be fined $2,000. The site is now listed on the national register of historical places and is protected by the U S. Government. The mound was once plowed over by the pioneering Williams family, who reported large bones that churned up in the plow's wake. Today the mound is still recognizable and still covers the remains of centuries-old American natives who once established their homes and reared their families along the banks of this enchanting river which served as nature's highway in a primitive era. Stately old spreading oaks, rustling in the breeze and casting ghostly images between tall towering pines, and the river's swift churning cool tea- colored water seem to whisper, "if I could talk, I'd tell you all, for you would then know the past legacy of this forsaken and desolate land that once held the proud traditions of people who lived and died here with their stories." Just why the Williams family selected this particular spot of ground to homestead is a question to be pondered. They found neighbors already in this northern end settled around the tiny village which now bears the title of prominent settlers named Taylor. Far to the east and south was another settlement named Darbyville, later changed to Macclenny. The bustling settlement of Sanderson to their south was the hub of Baker County business and eventually designated as the county seat until the court house burned and it was moved to Macclenny. Olustee would become renowned for Florida's only Civil War Battle, one Jocham and other family members would participate in and shed their blood. Upon the Williams' arrival, the heavily-wooded land had to be cleared for plowing crops, as food was their top priority. it was a strenuous job that built men's muscles to extraordinary strength. If they were prominent enough, they owned and used ox and mule teams. If they were fortunate, neighbors would join them in a log rolling. Anything was appreciated to help clear the land for planting, which meant survival. Trees were cut down and prepared by peeling, drying and seasoning into sturdy logs for their first crude homes. if time permitted, good neighbors came to assist in a home-raising, helping to build new homes or barns when needed. Most dwellings during this era had large open fireplaces at the base of a clay chimney large enough to hold a long log or stump for warming throughout the night in fiercely wintry seasons. Fireplaces were also used to cook meals in until wood stoves could be purchased. Families gathered around them to talk, and bond, and to keep warm. Nights were tranquil and quiet with only the sounds of the singing male crickets and croaking river frogs lulling the family to a peaceful and restful sleep. In the far distance, one could often hear the cries of panthers and wildcats wooing in the moonlight. Candies lit the scantily furnished homes, or perhaps, if the family was lucky, they owned a kerosene lamp. The occupants were quickly alerted to any sign of someone coming down the road or approaching the house by a barking dog or grunting hogs. When the family awoke each morning, it was usually to the far-off sounds of cock-a- doodle-doo from the ever-present barnyard roosters. Soon the fragrant smell of freshly ground coffee, the aroma of crisp fried bacon, country ham or homemade sausage being fried to go with hen-house fresh farm eggs and hominy grits filled the air. Off in the distance one could often hear the hew and haws of other farmers getting started with their mules and oxen in the fields for the day's work. Familiar daily sounds on the farm were the mooing of cows being milked at day break and the laying hens cackling proudly. About noontime, the echo of bugle horns or conch shells, or a tower bell fastened to a limb of a tree, could be heard summoning workers home from their field of labor to a big lunch of freshly cooked vegetables seasoned with fat-back and large slices of home smoked ham. Then they would usually "rest a spell," sprawled lazily on the front or back porch, before returning to the hot sweltering turf. Smaller children would draw cool water from the well and take to the fields where those working would declare as they drank from the old gourd ladle used for a dipper that "it was the best and most refreshing water in the world." After chores at night, the children would sit around the fire place in winter, or on the front porch in summer, with their parents and savor thrilling stories. The kind the girls liked best started off with "Once upon a time" and ended up with "Thus, they got married and lived happily ever after." And, of course, there was always the famous hunting story that left the little boys in the family electrified. Ofttimes on week-ends, fiddles were brought out and farm families would gather at one another's homes to dance and sing. "Grab your partner and promenade," said the square dance caller and soon the strains of everyone chanting "You get a line and I'll get a pole, Honey, you get a line and I'll get a pole, Baby. You get a line and I'll get a pole and we will make them mud cats roll ... Honey, babe, 0 Baby mine." And always there were the strains of "Turkey in the Straw" and "Li'l Liza Jane." Sometimes, the young man would take his partner 'round to the back of the house, near the watershelf, for a private romance chat or courtship where many a proposal has been made or a kiss stolen. Descendants of the Williams family remember that those were the days of Lila, Annie and Pearl Taylor, Sophie, Emmie and Nova Dowling, the Rhoden girls, Minnie, Maude, Edna and Ola Williams, Minnie Kelly, Verdie, Lizzie and Hattie Dowling, Pattie Crews, Curtis, Lascham, and Auzzie Dowling, Sylvester Taylor, and the Crews bothers. After the party was over, it is said one could hear for miles as the horses galloped away down the road and the wagons rattled over the hills as families returned home while the moon went down behind the tall pines. The swimming hole, also called wash hole, was where families sometimes bathed, unless it was in big tubs they filled with water from the well or pump. Children splashed happily in the river's refreshing water dashing carefree and gay between gleaming white encroaching sandbars. Most men chewed tobacco and women "dipped" Three Thistles, Sweet Scotch or Railroad Mills snuff with the greatest of pleasure. At the age of 87, Lee Ernest Williams is one of the few descendants in 1994 who is alive to talk about the Williams family legacy with any degree of personal experience. Presently living in the Wells Nursing Facility in north Macclenny, the son of General Jackson Williams, oldest son of Jocham, admits he has forgotten much of those days of long ago. Born November 10, 1906, he never met his famous grandfather Jocham, who died in 1896. "My father, General Jackson Williams, was about half-Indian, and he looked it too," he said. "He stood about 5 feet 10 inches, and was a man of dark complexion and dark black hair." Ernest was born on the old Bank Place about 12 miles north of Sanderson. His mother, pretty and dark-haired, was a big woman -- "stout and tall," said Ernest. She and General were the parents of 12 children, and Ernest and his sister, Lou Vernie, were the couple's only set of twins. They arrived in the family's two-room farm home along with Sidney Samuel, Hardy, Eddie, Alvia, Linnie, Alta, Martha, Rosa, and Maidie. An infant son, William, died earlier. "I remember I used to follow behind my daddy and say, 'Daddy, I want a chew of tobacco. Everywhere I'd go, I'd follow behind him saying that, and once in a while he'd give me a piece, but I don't use that stuff now," he said. When he was about 14 years old, his father obtained work in Miami and the family moved there and worked in a floral nursery. "I remember some mighty powerful storms when we lived there," he said. "Mama and daddy tied all of us together with a sheet so we wouldn't blow away. As it was the house blew over to one side, but we all stayed together." he said. Ernest remembers how the family hunted with bows and arrows. "We made our own, and used sling shots as well. We'd tie a string on the arrow to shoot the fish and just pull them right up out of the clear river water," he noted. Ernest's faithful visitor in the nursing home is his sister Rosa's boy, Lewis. Rosie married Guilford Davis and the couple reared their family of twelve children north of Sanderson. Lewis, who lives in Macclenny, remembers the days of the early Williams family well. "I was born on the old Bowman place, not far from Dinkins church," he said. "We moved around a few times, but mostly my father farmed and sharecropped." "The place I lived the longest was an old log house and we slept on either a feather mattress or one we made from the moss we found in the woods," he said. "We didn't have an outhouse and had to use the creeks and woods. Mostly we used the creek. They tied a string out there and the girls went one way and the boys the other. We didn't have no toilet paper, they didn't make it back then, so we used what ever we could find that was soft -- rags, leaves, moss or corncobs," he said. Lewis' first cousin, Horace Jackson "Curley" Williams, remembers those days well. Horace's father, Sidney, was the oldest child of General Jackson Williams and Elizabeth (Davis) Williams. Lewis' mother, Rosa, and Sidney were brother and sister. Commenting on the days before the outhouse or privy, as some people of that day called it, he said, "We used red corn cobs first, and then the white, that way we made sure we were clean," he laughed. Horace was one of 15 children born to Sidney Samuel and Eva Marion (Sauls) Williams. "Them that had 15 children done that instead of cleaning the hominy pots," quipped Lewis. Besides Horace, Sidney and Eva were the parents of Harley Adrian, William Kenneth, Sidney Samuel, Jr., Walter Bryan, Edward Clarence, John Harold, Nina Marie (Smith), Edith Marian (Wilcox), Doris Alethia (Stormant), and Elizabeth Pearl (Stormant).Two unidentified infants and Lila Jane died early. "My father, who was born in Baker County, told me many stories about his life with Grandpa Jocham," said Horace, who was reared in a modest log home in Columbia County. "It wasn't sealed," he said. "The boys slept in the loft and in the winter we used lots of warm blankets on our feather beds and the summers were naturally airconditioned. We were seldom sick and we ran the woods barefooted day and night, never afraid of any kind of animal and with so many rattlesnakes in the woods we never saw one that I remember. Maybe we'd see one at the edge of the field occasionally, but never in the woods. It was a joyful time and lots of memories, like the time my brothers and I were hunting and thought we had trapped an opossum in a gopher hole, but when we sicked the dogs onto it, it turned out to be a skunk, and naturally we all got sprayed. We were sorta outcast in the family until we could get the stink off. "I was out in the woods once with my brother, Harley, and his friend, Jack Kerce, gathering lightered wood for the fireplace and they gave me a chew of tobacco. I was under five years old and the tobacco made me very sick. I never took another chew of tobacco in my life," he said. "My father was a great hunter, more-so than a great farmer, and I have so many wonderful memories of those hunting occasions I shared with him. We'd be in the fields plowing and a little sprinkle would come and dad would say, 'Boys, it's too wet to plow,' so we would all leave the fields and go to the house. Then, dad would say, 'Boys, there should be some rabbits out in those woods, so let's get the guns and go shoot rabbits'. That's how we got meat for supper many times. If it hadn't been for wild game like squirrels, fish, etc., our meals would have been meatless many times. My father, Sidney, was one of the best shots in the country and I wouldn't doubt the world if he could have ever gone into competition. "We'd go quail hunting in the morning and dad would send me home with a big bag full by noon. Then dad would stay in the woods and come in at night with another big bag full. A lot of people would furnish him with the gun shells and he would sell his game. That brought us in some money for our family. We'd hunt gator and feed the tails to the dogs and we'd hunt coons for them, too. That's the way we'd have of feeding our dogs," he said. Horace, given the nickname "Curley" during the years he worked for the Civilian Conservation Corps, better known as the CCC Camp, values his heritage with tremendous gusto. .Those were not easy times, but the more I remember about those days, and the more I learn about my ancestors, the more I appreciate them and those times," he said. He left behind the log cabin home he shared with his parents and brothers and sisters when he graduated in a class of 13 from high school in Mason, a small community south of Lake City in 1940. He took treasured memories with him and they are still indelibly printed in his mind. "In those days, a doctor would make house calls for most any reason, and I still thrill at the sounds I recall of a new baby being born. And the conversation between the old country doctor and my mother still ring from that old log cabin, as me and my brothers lay in our beds in another room. "And I shiver to think how we did what we called cooning fish from beneath old logs when the water in the river was low. We would reach our hands down in those holes to catch us a mess of fish and today how the thought terrifies me to think how we could have gotten a hold of a moccasin, or snapping turtle. Memories flood my mind of hog killing days, and how good those chittlin's used to be my mama cooked, and how my mama would take a big stick to beat the dirt out of our clothes before washing them in a big wash pot in the yards. When people ask me if we had running water in our home when I grew up, I say, 'Why, of course we had running water; my mother would say, 'Horace, run to the well and get me some water, and run right back,' so we did have running water, and the old saying, 'Water Jack, you ought'er been there and half way back' was a common adage. "I well remember my first pair of shoes mama bought from a neighbor because when their order from Sears Roebuck arrived they were too small for our neighbor's child. I had to pack them away in a trunk until mama could get a pair of shoes for my sister. It didn't hurt us to go around barefooted." His work with the CCC began on July 5, 1940, took him as far as California, and when he-returned to Florida, he found work at the shipyards during the war. He returned to Jacksonville long enough to find the perfect mate while attending church. He married Inez Parker, who he declares is the best cook in the "whole wide world." They became the parents of one son, Jack, and two daughters, Rene and Kathleen, who blessed them with grandchildren, Doug, Jennifer, Derek, Craig, and, thus far, one great-granddaughter named Sarah. "She's a little princess," he says with great pride. Horace retired in 1986 after 42 years as a switchman and conductor for the Seaboard Railroad, which eventually, through the years, went through several name changes. He and Inez have travelled through each of the 50 states except for Hawaii and that's because Inez is afraid to fly. Destiny has taken him to many places throughout the world in his work as a minister of the gospel. In addition to his work with the railroad, he was pastor of a church he built in Jacksonville, the Hillcrest Church of God. That responsibility took him to Africa and a visit to nine countries. Now, all of those memories and experiences are carefully documented for his posterity in his personal diary. Today, he is continually seeking to know more of his ancestors. He is active in the Williams family reunion, held annually in the Taylor section of Baker County. He values the memories he shares with family members and especially enjoys meeting with his surviving uncle and cousins. As they gather in the nursing home to share family stories with their lone surviving uncle, Ernest, Lewis and Horace recall such stories as the one when their grandfather, General, journeyed to Lake City to buy a new Ford. "He paid $688 for it and said the man told him he'd had a real good year, he sold three cars," said Lewis. He remembers that his grandfather was also a convention-singing school teacher. In those days people who loved to harmonize together attended conventions held mostly at local churches. People came from all around to attend." Lewis, born in 1918, completed the tenth grade at Sanderson. "My first job was on the Glen St. Mary Nursery and I was paid 12 1/2 cents an hour for hard labor," he said. He eventually worked many years as a mechanic for Firestone before retiring. "Back in those days, I remember the school principal, Will Cragg, boarded with us and had to walk the three miles to school. They paid him $15 a month, and the woman teacher made $12.50," he said. "I remember that when we wanted to go get a drink of water during class we held up one finger, and if we needed to go to the outhouse we held up two," he said. "And if you got a whipping at school, watch out, you'd get another when you got home. That's just the way it was back then," he said. "When I wasn't in school, I was plowing. I remember being behind the plow as early as four and a half years old. My head didn't reach the top of it and when the plow hit a root, the handle would hit me side of the head," he said. "My parents were very strict, they didn't put up with nonsense or disrespect, and would beat you with limbs off a tree or a gallberry bush. If they told you to do something you'd just better do it," he continued. "I picked the banjo at lots of frolics back then, and that's where I met my wife," he said. Lewis married Sarah Lee Fish and they became the parents of seven children: Noah, Ernestine (Griffin), Russell, Leonard, Cecil Guilford, Walter and Sarah Lee. "They were delivered by Grace Barton, who was a midwife, and I paid her $ 15 a piece," he said. "Back in them days, people had lots of fights. They didn't have respect for each other and they'd kill you," he said. "I think they are a lot more educated now than they were in those days and you don't hear of as many murders. They'd get something against you and so much hate until they'd either fight you or kill you over trivial things. Them were violent days. "My daddy, Guilford Davis, was a strong man with huge muscular arms, and I can tell you, he loved to fight," he said. "When he was 65 years old, he could hold on to something and posture his body out straight. He was a real powerful man. I remember that he and Jack Davis had a coffin house just north of Sanderson. They made lots of caskets for people," he said. "Back then, people stayed up all night with the dead because in them days they didn't have funeral homes. Some of those old farm houses didn't have a door, and if they didn't guard the corpse the animals would come in and gnaw on 'em. That's how the custom of staying up all night started, someone had to guard off the animals," he said seriously. Lewis declares that infant babies, if left while their mothers worked in the fields, were in danger of snakes. "I've seen a many an infant with a snake down it's throat. The snake would be trying to drink the milk. You had to be careful about that." Fires were dangerous too, he said. "I've been out there in the field and seen houses on fire. Everyone would run to help put it out," he said. "My grandpa General told me that Grandpa Jocham's first wife had a wild cat jump on her and she killed it singlehandedly. People just don't believe it when you tell them these things; I know my own children will say they don't believe it. Well, they don't because they weren't there. I was there and I know it's true." Lewis Davis is a man of much humor. Discussing the most serious subject, he can make you chuckle. And the way he tells his stories make you wonder if it's true, or a joke. He convincingly says all of his family stories are the truth. Horace's most vivid memories are centered around hunting game in the woods with his father and fishing with him in the river. "My father was more of a hunter than a farmer," he said. "And he loved to pass down the stories of Great Granddaddy Jocham, like the time Grandpa Jocharn was hunting down by the creek bank with a double barreled shotgun. He said he came upon a big rattlesnake, so he started to shoot the snake and all of a sudden there was a bear on one side of him and a wild panther on the other. He was really upset and didn't know which to shoot first, and wondered what he should do. He figured he'd shoot the snake first, because it was the closest to him, so he aimed and hoped the shot would scare off the panther and bear, so he fired with both barrels and the gun flew apart and the ram rod killed the snake and each barrel killed the bear and panther, and the panther fell in the creek and came up with a boot filled with fish." Horace and Lewis are proud of their grandfather's action during the Civil War. "We've been told the stories by our fathers and grandfathers many times," said Horace. The two men remember the stories told to them by their fathers about Jocham's experiences in the Battle of Olustee. "Jocham related the story to Uncle Guilford Davis, who told it to me, of how 500 Federal soldiers got caught in quicksand and disappeared," said Horace. "Yeah, and the calvary lost horses and cannons, too," said Lewis. They said it happened at Cone Head Branch, ofttimes called Coon Head Branch. John Daniel 'Jocham' Williams served in Company K, Second Regiment in the Florida Cavalry. His tombstone reads that he died April 27, 1896 at the age of 75 years. Research shows that Jocham's birth year could not have been 1821 as etched on his monument, but instead, because of family documents and records, it is estimated to be about 1812. One can only imagine today how it must have been when the pioneering Williams children ran free and barefoot down the sandy roads and lanes listening to the whippoorwills announcing the first days of Spring. Off they'd go, skipping through the woods shoeless, stopping occasionally to dig up a white fluffy root called Indian bread. or taking home some wild sassafras for mother to make a stimulating beverage from its root, sweetened with homemade brown sugar, or to be used as a medicine when needed for dispelling chills and fever, such as with measles. or they might dig up a palmetto, remove the husk and eat the tender white bud, considered a delicacy. Or when Uncle Roy Williams showed them how to find the "candy stick" in the branch of the Tupelo gum. or gathering the "chewing paste" of the hardened gum of the pine or sweet gum trees to make a very delectable chewing gum. And, if the boys could get away with it, they would roll homemade cigarettes from "rabbit" tobacco, a species of dried sumac that grew in the woods. How exciting the children must have found the starry nights as they watched the twinkling lights illuminating the woods with the glowing firefly or "lightning bugs." Or the thrill of finding the glow worms, eel worms or earth worms for fish bait. And, just before sunset, watching the dragonfly or mosquito hawk darting back and forth, breathlessly holding up a finger and hoping one would light on it if they were very still and quiet. All this and more, in the glory of that natural environment of nature, they testify. Then, of course, there were moments when the family had to fight the circle of biting yellow flies while they were trying to catch an honest mess of fish, or the mosquitoes that you hoped would be decoyed by the bright light burning in the front yard from a wood pile. And during dinner, when the table was laden with such things as peach or pear cobbler, someone's job would be to swat the pesky flies with a piece of paper or a homemade fly swatter. As the Williams family saw the sun sink into the western horizon beyond the tree tops they marveled at its mighty orb of light. "We used to think that the moon was just a little ways up there and that we could actually see the man in the moon smiling down on us, never dreaming that someday a real man would actually step on that part of our dreams," said the cousins of their experience. Those were the days of tradition and superstition, they said, when people believed that dreams had obvious meanings, as well as riddles, puzzles, and fortune telling -- and that certain persons had power to put a spell on you. It was the time when the belief in fairies, spooks and haunted houses were real, when families had confidence in patent medicines and that certain signs or occurrences were a true indication of that which would surely come to pass. Children were told that if they would walk backward to the well under a clear sky at noon on the 22nd day of June, holding a mirror over their head, they would surely see the image of the one they would marry reflected on the water in the well. Children were told that if they would break a wishbone or breastbone from the fowl beneath a table and lay up the larger fragment expressing a wish, that whatever they wished for would come to pass. It took two to break the wishbone and the one getting the larger portion was the lucky one to get his wish come true. Parents were strict, and no, the majority of them didn't put up with nonsense, they said. They didn't have time for it. Nevertheless, the love that was generated among the early pioneering clans and the deep respect the children held for their parents who did their best to feed and clothe the family through the hardships they were to endure, is a blaze of adoration in the hearts of those who can remember. Those who can't remember, and who don't choose to believe the path they trod, will never know the true wonder of all of it, the cousins agree. "Those were peaceful times sitting around the fireplace with our family, shelling peanuts or trying to warm ourselves by getting warm on one side then turning to warm the other side. And oh, those old fashioned peanut boilings. we'd get us a big old wash pot, fill it with peanuts and water, and while the old folks would sit around and talk about their good old times, the young folks would play games and sometimes some courtin' would be going on. And the times when neighbors would get together and help cut timber to clear a field for planting. It was called a log rolling, as they rolled the logs out of the way so they could plow, or the wood sawings when men would gather to saw enough wood to last several months. There would always be a big meal fixed by the women and a dance afterwards for entertainment." Horace, the son of Sidney Samuel and grandson of General Jackson Williams, the son of Jocham, says he can never pay enough tribute to his mother, Eva Marion Sauls, born March 24, 1893 in Alachua County Florida. The couple galloped away in a horse and buggy from Alachua County on December 6, 1909 and got married. "She bore 15 children and raised 12 to adulthood," he began. "She had a hard life, and never had, until late in life, electricity to cook or wash with. She would get up early before daybreak and cook breakfast for her family, wash all the dishes, then go to the fields and help hoe corn or peanuts until around eleven o'clock. Then she'd return to the house and fix dinner for us. Now, they don't call it dinner in the middle of the day, but I can't get used to calling it anything else. Dinner was then at noontime, and supper at night. But when we had eaten our dinner, and rested a little while, we'd go back to the field. Mama would finish dinner, do the dishes, and then she'd come back to the field and hoe again, unless it was wash day, but she was always busy. And, doing all of this, my mother was one of the most happy and cheerful persons I've ever known. I've heard her sing many times while she beat the clothes on the block to remove the dirt, and while she rubbed them on the washboard, or while she was at her sewing machine or anything else she might be doing. She sang beautiful songs like 'Bringing in the Sheaves,' 'Jesus Loves Me,' 'The Victor's Song,' and 'Sweet Hour of Prayer.' She seemed very happy and contented, and despite her hard life, I never heard her complain. To me, she was the most precious lady that has ever lived. "I think my mama could make the best biscuits in the world and after we left home and would come back to visit, she would always have a jar of fig preserves or something like that to eat with her hot biscuits. And how my children loved her cinnamon rolls. They would beg to go to Grandmas to eat them and her chicken and rice and sweet potatoes, all cooked on her wood stove. Her cooking would put these modern cooks to shame because she could take any food and make it come out so good. It's just a joy and pleasure to remember the times when we'd sit around an old log table with wooden benches and have a good meal and my mama was always so contented to see her family well-fed and well-clothed. She had a rich full life and I believe God has smiled upon her all of her life and I'm sure she has a great reward. Even in the days of the Great Depression, we were like many other people then, very poor, especially by today's standards, but we didn't know we were poor until somebody told us. I can look back now and even though we didn't have quite as much as some folks, my life was rich and full and I wouldn't trade my life I had back there in the country and the way I was brought up for anything in the world." Horace Williams expresses the sentiments of countless other Williams descendants who trek *annually to share a reunion and pay homage to the heritage they cherish and celebrate. Each year they tread reverently to the sacred and hallowed spot where their revered patriarch Jocham's eternal resting place is peacefully nestled beneath the towering majestic oaks. They come to meditate, to reminisce, and to rekindle their historic beginnings with other kindred souls who prize their common bond. They exhibit the greatest devotion as they amicably erect a city of tents and set up camp, many wearing Civil War grays in honor of Jocham's and other family members' brave record of patriotism. Assembling on this overnight excursion, they will seek amid the ghostly land to pay homage to the man they never knew personally, but whose memory they feel fortunate to honor. As the blackness of night descends upon the thick and sprawling natural scrub oaks and spiralling tail pines, a rustling wind plays a mystical tune jointly with the sedate sounds of the gentle swirls of the placid St. Mary's River. It is the same soft echo of the tranquilizing serenade heard centuries ago by those who occupied this celebrated expanse, and tonight the staunch and loyal offspring will be lulled to an enchanting night's sleep, mingled with the stimulating dreams of the history they are honoring. Then, as dawn begins to cast the first rays of luminous sun light flowing in golden streams upon the thick dew-shrouded woodlands, Jocham's faithful posterity will rise to meet this novel day they set aside annually, with unwavering convictions, to pay their respect and homage to an era they revere. In the quiet and sacred setting, a bugleman's stirring soft tones of "Taps" will drift passionately throughout the sphere, mingling with the mesmerizing sounds of the gentle tannic waters of the timeless old river, lapping mildly at the shoreline, as it just keeps rolling along, carrying with it centuries of obscure and unsung stories of connecting generations and timeless immortal family traditions. *Williams Family Reunion is held annually on 4th Saturday in April at the Taylor Church in Taylor, Florida. _____________________________________________________________________________ Brown, RaulerSon Families Imagine having the ideal family. Imagine having your ideal family continue for generations and generations, long after you are departed from this life. Impossible you say. Especially today. Well, think again if you are pessimistic, because there is a family in Baker County who says they have inherited the ideal life, one that began for them generations ago. It is a life, they recall, established with respect and honor, and a succession of generations who have held it in high esteem, and who faithfully carry the banner today as an ensign to yet another generation who are following in the steps of their parents, grandparents, great-grand parents, and on and on. In a world where love and respect for family ties are fast declining, it exists in its fullest for Nettie Ruth Brown, Faye Claudine Brown Rhoden, Betty Jeaudon Brown Madden, Marcus Eldyn Brown, George Marvin Brown, Marjorie Ann Brown Dunn, Athena Gail Brown and a late brother, Ray Elgene Brown. They are the children of Ray and Athena Raulerson Brown, but it does not begin or end with Ray and Athena. It begins and extends to other connecting families who also recognize the value of the inheritance they've received from their Baker County forebears, and with gratitude and determination they plan to keep the past immortal. The four generations of Grandparents that lived during their lifetime have forever influenced their lives, along with the stories passed on to them of the preceding generations. This story is about that bounteous legacy and the hope that its influence will pass to the succeeding generations who will continue to hold their heritage in high regard. And this is how they tell it. "Grandpa 'Coll' used to talk to us about his father, Hugh Brown, as if he were in the other room," said Nettie Ruth of her grandfather, George Colquitt 'Coll' Brown. "He'd relate how his father rode off to war on horseback during the Confederacy and how he fought and was wounded in the battles of Manassas (Second Bull Run), and the Wilderness (May 4- 20, 1864). He told us over and over the patriotic and inspiring story of his father, when he was sent home to recuperate from his battle wounds. When news reached him that the Yankees were going toward Tallahassee and the Confederates were gathering troops, young and old, to stop them, Grandpa Hugh left to fight at the Battle of Olustee, where he lost a leg in combat. "Grandpa Coll kept Great Grandpa Hugh's image alive for us. He was proud of him and he diligently taught his children and grandchildren to be patriotic, to believe in and support our state and national governments. We were taught we had an obligation to vote, and mama or daddy better not find out we didn't. We were taught it was our civic duty, and if we were called to jury duty, we were obligated and to think on it as a privilege, not a burden. They wanted us to respect the law and do our duty with heart and passion and this has been passed down to us from generation to generation. None of us would even consider not doing what they taught and expected us to do," she said. Hugh Brown married Caroline Raulerson late in life, and they owned about 160 acres of land with a log home known previously as the Burnsed Blockhouse. Jim Burnsed built it around the late 1830's as an impregnable fortress to insure his family's safety from Indian attacks. Hugh purchased the house about 1871 and after living a full and varied life in it, died and was buried in the nearby walled Magnolia Cemetery where family members, and some others in the community, were laid to rest more than a century ago. His grandchildren say he was as impressive as the house he lived in that was built with massive corner joints fashioned by dovetailing. The half-sawn plugs in the logs that secured a place for the gun ports, in case of attack, remain intact to this day. The dwelling now claims the name of "The Coll Brown House" and is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. It was the four sons and six daughters of Coll and his wife, Minnie, who split pine into fence rails and criss-crossed the timbers around the farm to secure a place to plant their crops, grind their cane, and protect their livestock. And just as important to the family's safety and livelihood, the Browns say, was the tender nurturing and the cultivation of stern discipline of character. The first-born children of Ray and Athena Brown grew up in a house just down the lane from the big, two-story Coll Brown log fortress. They often spent the night with their grandparents inside its bulwark walls. Their father, Ray, was born there as were their aunts and uncles --Tom, Curtis, Lucious, Rudolph, Minnie Lee, Basil, Doris, Ruth, Irene and Pauline. They highly prize the ideals instilled by their forebears. "Grandpa Coll and his first wife, Lizzie Rewis, had a son before she died. He then married our grandma, Minnie, who was a school teacher," said Nettie Ruth. "Grandma was the daughter of Thomas Paul Taylor, a Methodist minister whose forebears pioneered the community of Taylor. Grandma was a very dedicated religious person, with a strong devout background," she said. "Grandpa Taylor used to visit our family and tell us the most exciting stories, and I'd think, 'Boy, these stories are wonderful,' and come to find it out they were Bible stories," said Dean. "And they were influencing." "For as long as I can remember, we all traditionally went to Grandma Brown's house for holidays and special occasions," said Nettie Ruth. "They taught us unity from the cradle and inspired family traditions in each of us. We learned family loyalty and were taught that even if you had a quarrel with a family member, which happens in the best of families, we were never to go out and tell it, but keep it in the family and get it settled. Today, that is really one thing that stands out in my mind." "We were taught by example that if any family member had financial problems you helped the family. You might have to pinch pennies yourself, but you helped the one in distress," said Dean. "Family solidarity and religious life have been passed down to all these generations of great grandchildren," said Nettie Ruth. "And they instilled in us a respect for older people, and we learned early to love all of our aunts and uncles and to treat them with respect." "Grandpa Coll was about 6-foot-3, and he had white hair and huge hands," remembered his granddaughter Dean. "He always shaved with a straight razor. It hung by a mirror on the back porch alongside his razor 'strop'. He used the 'strop' to sharpen his razor, and we kids knew not to bother it," she said. "He had a big, highback rocker, and he'd sit on the front porch and rock and sing hymns. You could hear him all the way down the lane to our house," said Nettie Ruth. "And he always had a pick that he'd pick his teeth with. He wore bib overalls and he had a toothpick made out of a goose quill that he kept in his front pocket." "Every morning we could hear him coming down the lane to let the cows out. He kept them penned up in the field where he planted potatoes so the cows would fertilize the area. He'd be singing to the top of his lungs, something like 'Oh, bear me away on your snowy wings', or 'Oh, They tell me of an uncloudy day,'" said Dean. "Grandpa Coll never smoked; he didn't drink liquor or swear; he didn't even drink coffee or tea. He never joined a church, but he made sure grandma was able to go. He owned automobiles, but he never learned to drive. A 1918 Ford he owned was one of the first with a starter inside the car. His sons would take grandma back and forth to church, and after they left home and our grandparents reverted back to using the horse and wagon, he continued to make sure grandma got to church," said Dean. "Grandma Minnie belonged to the Methodist Church until it split, then she went across the river and joined the Congregational Holiness." "She had lots of geese," said Nettie Ruth. "I remember grandma picking the geese feathers to make pillows. She washed clothes in long wash-troughs in the back yard. Grandma Brown had a temper. You just knew what she did and didn't want you to do, and you did or didn't do it. I can remember the first year I was in school and lots of times I'd go to grandma's house afterwards. She would always have some sweet bread in her kitchen safe. You could sit 10- 12 people easily around her kitchen table. I remember that sometimes she'd take me to church with her in the mule and wagon." "We were back and forth all the time from our Raulerson grandparents' plain clapboard farm house to our Brown grandparents' farm," said Dean. "Our grandparents were very productive farmers," said Nettie Ruth. "They would take their fruits and vegetables into Jacksonville to market by mule and wagon. They would leave the night before and drive into town, spend the night, sell the produce, and then it would take another day to drive back home. "Grandma always had a cow and made homemade butter. Grandma would can her butter in jars just like her fruits and vegetables. I remember that one of grandma's cows got into a moonshine still out in the woods and came home drunk. After grandma milked the cow, we could taste the alcohol. She was so angry. She shut the cow up in the pasture, and it was a long time before grandma would let her go back out again. She'd say, 'I want all that stuff gone out of her.' All the boys in the neighborhood were tickled when they heard that Aunt Minnie's cow got drunk," laughed Nettie Ruth. "I can still see one of her cows coming down the lane drunk and her knees buckling," she continued. "There were moonshine stills in the woods in those days, and if anyone knew where they were; no one told. It was thought of as a necessary part of life back then. Even if you didn't own one, you still didn't turn those that had them in. "All of us children loved to visit with our grandparents in the blockhouse. I remember sleeping upstairs and looking out the two windows that were under the eaves. They didn't have shutters then and there was a little place where you could look out. It used to be the lookout window for the Indians. "We knew three of our great grandparents: Kizzie Smith Fish, America Dinkins Raulerson and Thomas Paul Taylor. All of them instilled in us the value of work and earning what we got. They taught us that if we told someone we were going to do something, then do it. We could not use any bad language, and they said if we did bad things, we'd have bad things happen to us. They taught us that if anyone did something unfair to us, we shouldn't take revenge. We were taught that 'Vengeance is mine saith the Lord.' That was repeated to us by our parents and grandparents over and over. "Grandpa Brown always had animal feed, and people from all around came to buy it. One Sunday afternoon, a man came from across the river from Georgia to buy some corn and grandpa told him, 'No, I will not sell corn on Sunday.' But he asked the man if he had enough corn to feed the stock that night, and the man said 'No,' so Grandpa told him to go out there to the barn and get enough feed for his animals. He told him to return the following day, and he'd sell him some corn. "We did not go swimming or hunting on Sunday, that was the Lord's day, and we were to respect it." "I remember that grandpa was kinda like a parole officer and people on probation had to come to Grandpa and visit at least once a week," she continued. "The most heart breaking thing," added Dean, "was when our Grandma Brown had a heart attack and had to be hospitalized. We didn't know if she would survive or not, but they decided that she wouldn't be able to come back to live at the farm. Grandpa walked through the house and was disposing of their belongings and we saw him cry. I had never seen my grandpa cry, and it was heartbreaking to see this big, old, strong man cry. They lived in Jacksonville with Irene, one of their younger children, and they never got to return to their beloved farm. The house stayed vacant until it was sold, but in their honor, even today, we still continue to have our family reunions faithfully. Grandma died two weeks after we celebrated her birthday with a special dinner. That's when I think I realized the value of the farm and I learned to appreciate the historical worth. It will always be a place I love to recall and think of the fond memories. "In 1938, our parents purchased a farm, cleared the fields and repaired the farmhouse. In 1940, we moved from the house where we lived down the lane from our grandparents and settled south of North Prong Church. We never moved again." The Brown family lived just a short distance from Athena's parents, Lon and Katie Fish Raulerson. Their grandfather, Alonzo Raulerson, descends from a long line of Raulersons who, until 1813, spelled the name Rollison or Rawlinson or Rolyson, depending on who wrote it. When David B. Mitchell, Governor of the State of Georgia, issued a military commission to Jacob Raulerson as Lieutenant of the 335th District of Militia in Wayne County, Georgia, on July 20, 1813, it was the first time the name was spelled Raulerson. Prior to that time, the name Raulerson did not exist, and since that time, Jacob's brothers -- William, Nimrod and Noel -- along with their sister, Fanny, all adopted the present day spelling, as have their descendants in the Florida/Georgia area. This account skips several generations to William "Billy" Raulerson. He was the Raulerson who ambled down into Baker territory from Charlton County, about 1814, and established a ferry across the North Prong of the St. Mary's River on February 22, 1843. Billy, often referred to as Ferry Bill, or Uncle Bill, married Elizabeth "Battie" Moore, who possessed a half-Indian heritage, and the couple had at least nine children. The particular line this story will follow belongs to one of their sons, Westberry, who married Elizabeth Canaday, and passes to one of their sons, William "Pink" Raulerson through his marriage November 5, 1879, to the legendary America Texas Dinkins. America gave birth to 13 children and reared 41 others. When their son, Alonzo, married Katie Idella Fish, their daughter Athena fell heir, and passed on to her children, a remarkable family lineage spanning nine known generations of Raulersons in Baker and Charlton counties. "Grandpa Alonzo was called 'Lon'. He never joined a church, but he was always there, sitting up in the 'amen' corner," said Dean. "His opinion was highly valued and they usually consulted him about everything. At annual meeting, Grandma Katie always made the unleavened bread and the real wine. She was in charge of the towels for the annual foot washing and she would always have them washed nice and clean and neatly ironed. The men sat on one side of the church and washed each other's feet, and the women sat on the other side of the church, and did the same. The children would play on the outside of the church and they would wash feet, too, just like the adults. As they grew older and understood the significance of the ceremony, they could do it inside with the adults." "They'd have church all week long. On Sunday, they'd have about four preachers, and it seemed as if it lasted forever," she continued. We'd have dinner on the ground, Saturday and Sunday," said Nettie Ruth. "It seemed like we cooked around the clock, getting ready for it. We had so many people spend the night with us, we'd have people sleeping on the floor on feather mattresses and pallets. "Grandpa Lon usually wore a white shirt, a bow tie and suspenders. And if preacher Jim Williams wasn't there, Grandpa Lon would lead the singing, and I remember that he had the most beautiful voice. Grandma Katie didn't say or do anything at the church services. She did all the preparation, but at the church, grandpa was the spokesman. Grandma might be called upon to lead the prayer, and she would, because at Pine Level Methodist Church, they called upon both men and women to pray," she said. "I stayed with Grandma Katie about five months one time when she got sick," said Dean. "She had always kept her house spotless as well as her yards. After she got sick, we helped her, and she would have us sweep the yards with a yard broom until they were spotless too. She was very strict and believed children were to be seen and not heard. They were very orderly and stern, but they were loving. We knew to mind them just by the tone of their voices." "Grandma Katie was about 5-feet-7 and wore her hair pulled back in a bun. She was always neat and clean. Her yards were full of colorful flowers, and she had lots of beautiful hanging baskets on her porch." "We got our flowers for graduation from Grandma Raulerson's house," said Nettie Ruth. "They were always so plentiful and pretty." "I remember when Grandma Katie's mother, Kizzie, died," said Nettie Ruth. "I was just a little girl, about five years old, and nobody was paying attention to me, so I just wandered around while everyone was busy getting grandma's funeral ready because she died one day and they were burying her the next. I remember a Mrs. Crawford was showing the other women how to fold, cut and notch the material so it would make pretty flowers in the cloth. I remember Grandma Kizzie being laid out on a cooling board, and out in the furnace shelter, men were building the casket. I don't remember the funeral, but I remember the other things and it stands out in my mind to this day." "Grandma Katie was very strict, very orderly. Their whole life was like that," said Nettie Ruth. "She doctored everyone around. She did a lot of sewing for people, especially if a child needed clothes or if a family got burned out. I've worn underwear that she made out of flour sacks. We got sugar sacks from the moonshiners and mama would make us things from the material," she said. "Grandpa Lon was a shoe cobbler and he would take all these shoes his mother would send him to resole," said Nettie Ruth. "He mended all the shoes in the neighborhood, and both he and grandma were always very helpful to neighbors," she said. "Our grandparents were married nine years before they had any children. Then their first child, Athena, was born. Their second child, born 19 months later, was a little son they named Alvie, who lived a month. Besides our mother and Alvie, they also had Cecil, Edith and Rubye Lee. "Grandpa Lon had a Model T Ford, and he loved that car. One time he drove it to Macclenny and it made the news," said Dean. "He kept his car in the shed, and on Saturday mornings, he cleaned the car up. He would take a white oilcloth and lay it out on the ground and he took all the stuff from under the hood of the car, cleaned it good and then arranged it in order on that white oilcloth. I could sit on the fence and watch him, but I couldn't get off the fence and come near where he Was working because he was afraid I might get sand on the parts." "Grandpa Lon's mother was America Dinkins. She and Great Grandpa William Raulerson (everyone called him Pink because of his complexion) lived about two miles through the woods from us. Grandma always had on a big white apron, and I can remember her sitting on her front,porch with several other older women who always seemed to be there, 11 said Nettie Ruth. "She raised 54 children, and took in other men and women who either didn't have a place to go, or who were temporarily stranded without a place to live. Grandpa said he used to come home and discover that all the beds would be filled and he'd find a quilt and lay down in the corner because there would be so many people. Great Grandmother America fed a lot of people, especially on Sundays, when they would leave church and come to her house to eat. Even after America got sick and had to stay home, they would come over to her house to have service. They'd come sit on the porch laden with beautiful hanging baskets or just take their place somewhere amid the colorful flowers that bloomed in her yard. Most of them would have already attended church services at Pine Level but would still come to Grandma's house to hear the preaching again." "Great Grandma America had a sawmill and she donated the land and lumber to build the Pine Level Methodist Church," said Dean. " She also had rice cleaning and grist mills. She really loved the Lord and she did all she could to fulfill her obligations to Him. Someone once asked her why she took in all the other children and families when she had 13 of her own, and she said that the Lord had blessed her with so many material blessings that she wanted to pass it on to others and to share her good fortune." Many of the people who lived in America's home helped on the farm or worked for the sawmill and grist mill. That is, unless they grew too old and feeble. The older women helped in the typical pioneer kitchen preparing meals, either in the fireplace or on her wood burning stove, for the countless souls she took in. Many of them lived there until they grew old and died, while others moved on when they were able. She was known throughout the area as one who would provide a home for the less fortunate. America Texas Dinkins Raulerson is described as having flaming red hair and keen brown eyes and her short frame carried about 170 pounds. "She really spoiled us," said Dean. "She gave each of us three older children a goat one time. We took the goats home and daddy made us a goat cart, but he didn't like goats, especially one of them that was really mean. Daddy hated those goats, but as long as our grandmother lived, he took very good care of them out of respect. When she died, Daddy sold every last one of them because everyday he had to go get their heads out of the fence. They were also bad to eat up everything in sight." Pink Raulerson, born in 1858, died in 1922. America lived until 1938. At her funeral service, she was eulogized as a woman whose works demonstrated her faith, sharing her home with the homeless, feeding the hungry and clothing the naked, caring for the poor and needy. With her bounteous earthly life over, the property was divided and each of her 13 children inherited a 90- to 100-acre farm. According to her posterity, it can truly be said, "Her likes shall not pass our way again." Education was particularly instilled in the Ray and Athena Brown children. "Our parents instilled in us the need to work and not to depend on anyone else," said Nettie Ruth. "They particularly inspired us to obtain an education. Our mama paved the way for a lot of other women when she returned to school when I was in the 9th grade. At first, I was embarrassed when mama said she was going to do it; I didn't want to ride the school bus with my mama or be in class with my mama, but my grandparents talked to me and told me how proud they were of her and that I should be, too. They were really encouraging because mama wanted to get an education and they felt we should all support her. I understood when I saw how they felt, and I was always proud of mama after that. After mama finished her high school education, daddy went and got his, and mama went on to college. "Some of the people in the community questioned mama and daddy about not letting us miss school to work on the farm," continued Nettie Ruth, who completed 12 years of school without missing a day." "Daddy would tell them there was plenty of time for us to work when we got in from school, so that is what we did," said Dean. We'd come in from school, get a snack and glass of water and go to the field and work." The Browns saw to it that their children's lives were full and varied. Typically, it went something like this. "Well, we didn't go shopping on Sunday," said Gail, the youngest of their children. "Our grandparents and our parents didn't buy anything or sell anything on Sunday. Each Sunday morning, we'd get up and go to church. Sunday afternoon, after our dinner, was the day we visited family. We'd go to grandma and grandpa's house or aunts and uncles. We never hunted or fished on that day; it was strictly set aside for church and family and you stuck by that. If anybody came by, needing feed or anything for their horses or cows, Grandpa would say, 'I'll give you enough to feed 'em today, and tomorrow come back and if you need more we'll settle up.' Daddy would do the same thing. If people needed food, mama and daddy would take it to them. They would share meat from our cows, hogs and chickens, as well as vegetables out of the garden. If a person was in a bind, they'd give it to him, but they would never do business on Sunday. It was nothing for mama and daddy to load up the truck with vegetables and take it to families in need," continued Gail. "Sometimes people would have their house burn, and mama and daddy would give them a bedstead, feather mattress and pillows, things they could use," said Dean. "Daddy worked for the Forestry Service later in life, and he instilled in each of us an appreciation for nature," said Gail. "He enjoyed growing a patch of cane so the grandchildren could see just how syrup was made. He'd plant the crop with all the family's help, and everyone would come by and look at it growing. When it was ready, we'd all come home to have a cane grinding. He would make it a big social event and a time to be together and visit. Daddy tied the tractor to the cane mill and the grandchildren would ride around it, and everybody would feed the cane into the mill to get the juice. Then we'd all go to the furnace shelter and cook it. It was an all day ordeal and we were worn out when it was over, but we all had good feelings about being together, and the kids were so proud of all they had accomplished." "Mama would make the biscuits so the grandchildren could taste the syrup right after it was made," said Dean. "That was one of our last big social events before daddy died, but it was important to daddy to carry on the traditions of his forefathe s." she said. "My friends are amazed to hear me talking about the work and traditions of my family," said Gail, who was born ten years after the Brown's older children. "They say, 'But you're not old enough to remember how to do those things,' like making syrup or killing hogs, making sausage and smoking bacon. "One of my jobs before going to school every morning was to check the fire in the smoke house for daddy, and doing the same thing when I'd come home from school. But I remember all those things, like how to fry the bones and pack them in lard to preserve them for cooking and seasoning with back bones and ham hocks and rice. Children today don't know they can preserve food that way; it is a lost art," said the Westside Elementary School Principal. "I remember when we got indoor plumbing and put water inside our house because we were still pumping water and using an outhouse for a toilet when I was growing up." "I wish my children could have lived through some of the things I have lived through. They've missed a lot," said Dean. "We didn't realize we were poor. Everyone around us lived in the same type of house, and were doing the same kind of things, going to the same school and church, or one similar to it." "Our parents were way ahead of their time," continued Dean. "When mama had the courage to go to school, daddy would keep the children for mama the three summer months she was attending college in Gainesville. She would come home on weekends. People just could not believe that daddy would stay home and do that." "Mama and daddy recycled long before it was the in thing to do," said Gail. "If clothes got too little for one of us, mama would cut it down and make clothes for the smaller children. Everything was used. She didn't throw anything away and we inherited that. We're all pack rats, too. Mama would say, I might be able to use the hooks and eyes, or the buttons' from this old discarded and completely worn out material. And daddy might tear the barn down, but he would use the lumber to rebuild something else." "I wore underwear and slips to school that mama made from flour sacks," said Dean. "Mama would use the 100-pound sugar sacks we'd get from the bootleggers and make our pillowcases, sheets and towels. I can remember when Purina Feed Company started putting out print sacks, and we had a lot of pretty dresses made from them. Some farmers would sell the sacks to us for five cents each." "I wouldn't trade my family for anything," said Gail. "Even with the ups and downs, squabbles, aches and pains, I couldn't think of another family I'd want to be a member of. We've had disagreements, we've had illnesses, and we've had tragedies that any other normal family has, but mama and daddy raised us to stick together." "They taught us that everything will work out and that nothing happens accidentally," said Dean. "They taught us that everything happens for a reason and everything happens for the best, and that we can handle it and no matter what it is or how bad it is, we'll get through it together. "When my husband and I were living in the Canal Zone, our son Robert had a raging temperature that spiked the thermometer. They don't know how high it actually went, but it left him with severe brain damage. Daddy said, 'Dean, The Master never makes a mistake; there is a reason for this'." "And he believed that," said Gail. "He believed it was not an accident or a mistake, but there was a reason. When he was bitten by a rattlesnake, he said, 'I don't know why this happened to me, and I may not live to see the purpose for it, but there will be some good that will come out of this.' We looked at him wondering how he could believe this, but daddy truly believed it. He was 70 years old when that 6-foot-4-inch snake bit him." "Our daughter Connie's baby was born with a problem at the roof of her mouth," said Dean. "She had to tube feed little Ashley, and it took three hours per feeding for nine months. We took Ashley to visit daddy who was in the hospital at that time and when we walked in, daddy looked at Ashley and said, 'Connie, don't you worry about it, she'll out grow all of this.' Ashley turned into a beautiful little girl and is very intelligent. Connie always says, 'Granddaddy said it would be alright, and that the Lord would take care of it. I trusted and believed also and Ashley is fine'. "I don't care how old you get in life," continued Dean, "your upbringing influences the way you make decisions. When I got out on my own, I wondered what I'd do without mama and daddy telling me, but when things came up I'd always think, 'Now what would mama and daddy do in this situation?' and to this very day I still think that way." "I grew up in the '60's," said Gail, "I'd hear some of my classmates say, 'I don't want to go home, I hate it, I don't want to be around my mama and daddy, and I don't want to be with my family, or I don't want to go here or there with my family.' I guess it was just the signs of the time, but I'd think, 'What's wrong with these people?' I'd look at them and think, something is the matter with you all if you don't want to go home and be with your family." "After I married and we lived away, we just couldn't wait to visit back home," said Dean. "There were seven children before I came along ten years later," said Gail. "And I remember how anxious we were for Dean, Berry and the children to come home on weekends when Berry was stationed in the service at Fort Benning. We'd go to bed knowing they would get there sometime during the night and they'd come by the way of the old wooden Reynolds bridge up by North Prong. Berry would be flying at low level and you could hear them when they reached the bridge with its loose boards that would go 'flem- flam.' I can still hear Daddy holler through the house, 'They're here!'. They'd come in and we'd all get up and have some coffee. Of course, that was his typical reaction when any of his children came home." "Mama taught each one of us to cook and sew, the boys too," said Dean. "She would say to us that there may come times when we'd be on our own and would need to take care of ourselves. Our brother, Ray, would say, 'Oh, I'll have a wife and she'll do all that' and Mama would say, 'But your wife might get sick and won't be able to do it, and you're going to have to take care of the children, cook for them, or sew buttons on, or sew up rips in garments.' She made sure they knew how. We all had to sew with our fingers before we could start on the sewing machine," she said. Switching over from the horse and buggy days to the modern car had its funny moments for the family. "I was locked up and left by myself in Taylor Church one time," said Dean. "Daddy thought I was with mama in the car, and mama thought I was with daddy in the wagon. By the time they arrived at my Aunt Lila Harvey's house and they asked each other, 'Where's Claudine?' and discovered I wasn't with either, they headed back to the church. There I was, standing at the window, staring out at all the tombstones with the moon shining down on them. At first, I was frightened, but then I thought, 'Now what could happen to me in the house of God?'." "We developed faith early," said Gail. "I remember when mama died and we were all at the funeral home receiving friends. Someone came up to me at the coffin where I was and said she wanted to tell me something. She said, 'I learned real early about God and strong faith, and I learned it from your mother.' I asked her how and she told me that when mama was working as the secretary at Taylor School, she often had to come to the office suffering from severe asthma attacks. She said, 'Your mama could always calm me down so it wouldn't be so bad.' Then, she told me this story: She said that one day when she was in the office with an asthma attack, the Coca Cola man was there delivering cokes in glass bottles, not like the cans we have now. She said he was loading the Cokes into the Coke machine and one of the bottles exploded, cutting his hand. it was cut deep, she said. He came into the office with his hand wrapped in a towel soaked in blood and walked up to mama and said, 'I need help, I've hurt myself.' She said that mama looked at him and asked, 'Do you believe in God?', and the man said 'Yes,' and she said, 'Are you a Christian?', and he said, 'Yes', and mama said, 'if you are, then what I am about to do will help you, and she turned and got the Bible and turned to Ezekiel 16:6, and read the verse about bleeding. And it stopped. The lady told me, 'I was just a little girl sitting there watching. Your mother closed that Bible and held his hand up, and it had quit bleeding. I knew that day that there was a God, and I learned from your mother what faith could do if you had faith in God'." "Mama had a working religion; she practiced her religion. And she taught it to us and others by example." "We used that Bible verse with mama one time," said Gail. "Mama had a massive hemorrhage and we had to take her to the hospital in Jacksonville. While she was in intensive care she had another hemorrhage. Mama told me to go find a Bible and I went out to the nurse's station and asked for one. I told them my mama wanted a Bible, so they got her one and she said to turn it to Ezekiel 16:6. I did and we laid our hands on her abdomen and read the verse and the hemorrhage stopped," she said. Education was paramount with Ray and Athena Brown. But an education was expensive. Still they taught their children it was possible. "They wanted us to have an education, but they taught us the value of working for it," said Dean. "They wanted us to pay our way as much as we could. Nettie Ruth started school at Mount Berry as a paid student, then the next year she was a work student. I was not accepted in Mount Berry as a work student and at the time mama and daddy couldn't send me, so therefore I couldn't go that year. Betty went up as a work student, George and Marjorie worked their way through. I didn't go to college until after my marriage to Berry (Rhoden), after he returned from the army," said Dean. 'I came along much later," said Gail. "Mama and daddy were able to pay my tuition, and I paid for all other expenses. The value of an education has passed down from one generation to the next. "I worked for my room and board while attending cosmetology school," said Dean. "I stayed with my Aunt Rubye Lee and cooked and cleaned her house, did laundry, and so forth," she said. "Our home was a happy home, but occasionally we could tell if mama and daddy had an argument like most people do, especially when they live together with eight children in a house. if mama went off singing 'Amazing Grace' and daddy went out to the barn or field singing, 'When the Roll is Called up Yonder,' we knew all was fine. If they weren't singing, you knew to behave yourself that day because things weren't quite right yet. Daddy had a sign he made that got our attention. He could put two of his fingers together and shake them at you, and I don't care where you were when he put them together and pointed them at you, you knew to behave. Mama had piercing brown eyes, and when she got angry, this right eyebrow went up, and if she ever looked at you and that right eyebrow went up, then you better quit whatever you were doing or you'd be in hot water." Ray Brown died June 23, 1986. Athena died February 11, 1992. "Before our parents died, we promised them we would stay together as a family," said Dean. "We told them not to worry because they had shown us how to be a family. We still hold our family reunions, just as we did when they were here. We get together at Christmas because that was daddy's birthday, and in April we gather because that is their wedding anniversary and mama's birthday. On July 4th we gather with both mama and daddy's families and have a big fish fry. In October we get together because that is when Grandpa Coll and Grandma Minnie's family get together, and on January 1st, mama's immediate family gathers. So we keep up with all our aunts and uncles and their families just as mama and daddy wanted us to." "When mama and daddy's lawyer gathered us all together, he told us that in all his years of being an attorney he had never worked with a family that worked so hard to do what their parents told them to do," said Gail. "He said, 'You all have not bickered, raised your voice to each other and you have tried to divide everything equally, right down the middle to make sure everyone had an equal portion'." "I told him that we had to because mama was the type of person who took a candy bar and cut it equally in eight pieces so everybody had an equal portion, and I told him we were not only taught to share with each other, but people around us that needed it, too," said Dean. "Mama and daddy said they didn't want us fighting over our inheritance. We settled the estate, the eight children and the attorney, and nobody got upset or squabbled over anything, and no one got their feelings hurt. We drew lots for the land and everyone got the share they wanted. People might find that unbelievable, I guess, but it's true." Today, the Brown children still own the property of their parents, and they gather there often. They are: Nettie Ruth, a retired extension agent from St. Johns County who served as president of the National Association of Home Economics; Claudine, a retired educator in the Baker County School System from Macclenny; Betty, a school teacher in Newnan, Georgia; Marcus, who works for Clay Electric in Salt Springs; George, an optician who lives in Palm Bay, Marjorie a school teacher in Dothan, Alabama; and Athena Gail of Glen St. Mary who is principal of Westside Elementary. Ray, who is deceased, worked for Ford Motor Company. His children inherited his portion. "George Marvin received the property with the house," said Gail. "He loves to be out at the farm, and he is so much like daddy. When he comes home, he walks the fence line and goes around the whole property checking everything out. He looks like daddy, the older he gets and he has so many characteristics like him. He comes home every other weekend and checks the farm. He plows and plants a garden, and we all still can and preserve the food just like we did when we all grew up. He intends to move back up here and live out there on the farm, on the portion that is his," she continued. " Since we all have an equal portion of the land, we hold joint ownership, but George Marvin is the one that probably has the deepest roots to it." The children have paid homage to their parent's memory in a very positive way. At their father's death, the children founded the Ray Brown Forestry Scholarship at Lake City Community College in Lake City. When Athena died, they established a church library in The Lord's Church at Taylor in her honor. Little has changed for the Browns on the land they inherited, except that both their parents have died, and now they are the older generation, setting examples and teaching their children and grandchildren about Grandpa Coll and Grandma Minnie, Grandma America Dinkins Raulerson and Grandpa Thomas Taylor. "When the garden comes in, we do as mama did," said Dean. We call everybody to come out for the harvest. For us, it is just like a social event. We get the big wash tubs and sit out under the big sycamore trees and drink iced tea and shell peas." "We were all at the farm the other day," said Gail. "Everyone was walking around and I looked over and saw George Marvin and Berry, Jr., across the field walking the fence line. Berry, Jr. looked so much like daddy, his arms and hands are built up like daddy. And George Marvin, too. I looked at them going across the field that afternoon and I thought, 'Well, there they go, daddy's son and grandson keeping up the tradition, checking out the fence line, and the garden, and looking to see how high the river is and wondering if there are any fish in it, and seeing if they can see any deer or turkey signs. I remember thinking as I looked at them walking across the field,' Well, it's going on, the tradition is still going on.' " DESCENDANTS OF JOHN ROLLISON/ROLLENSON/RAWLINSON/ROLYSON JOHN ROLUSOH/ROLLENSOWRAWLIHSON, wife unknown Known children: all born South Carolina are: JACOB, born 26 Sept 1778 married (1) Nancy Baggs,(2) Courtney Stewart (3) Mary Ann Purdorn WILLIAM, born 1780 married Elizabeth Moore FANNY, never married, five sons and three daughters (Alachua census 1830) NOEL, believed to be the third husband of Eleanor Baggs West Brannen Raulerson NIMROD, born 1795 married (1) Sarah Dukes (2) Nancy Roberson (See John Rolyson land plat, Effingham County, Ga. 1793 JACOB RAULERSON, son of John married Nancy Baggs Children NICHABOD, born 1799 Married 1) Lucretie Harris; 2) Margaret Motte; 3) Ellen Brill ELIZABETH, born 1801 Married Theophilus Keen HEROD, born 1803 Married Nancy Gibson ELEANOR, born 1806 Married Millington Smith SIDNAH, born 1810 Married Samuel M. Pearson LENORIA, born 1813 Married Daniel Wilkinson RUSSELL, born 1815 Married 1)Sarah Grooms; 2)Lydia Waldron; 3)Mary Taylor HENRIETTA, born 1818 Married Abraham N. Knight JAMES FORT, born 1821, born Ruth Hull DAVID, born 1835 Married 1)Catherine Knoles; 2)Mary Dowling NANCY, born 1836 Married Christopher Chancey. Married Courtney Stewart ISABELLE, born 1833 Married Hillery Cason MARY, born 1835 Married Alex G. Middleton WADE H., born 1838 Married 1) Catherine Hart; 2)Agnes Norfleet. Married Mary Ann Purdom WILLIAM RAULERSON of South Carolina born 1780 died 1858 in Baker Co. Fl. was son of John Rollenson/Rollison Rawlinson. Married Elizabeth Moore, born 1782 in Pitt Co., NC, died 1867 Lakeland, Fl., buried Gapway Cemetery Polk Co.,Fl. buried in Hull family row. COUPLE'S CHILDREN NOEL, born 1799 HEAL, born 1802 WILLIAM, born 1804 FRANCES 'FANNY,' born 1820, married James M. Albritton 14 Oct 1837. EMILY, born 1817, died 5 Nov 1907, married Steven Hull, Sr. 13 June 1831. WEST, born 23 Apr 1818, died 13 Feb 1887, married Elizabeth Canady Note: Around 1840, at the time of Indian uprisings, there was a trail from West Florida to the Okefenokee Swamp that passed through the south end of Charlton County, Georgia. This made the Big Bend subject to frequent raids by the Indians. Wes Raulerson and 'Betty' Canaday were living with their children near this trail. While Wes was away from home in the woods working one day, Indians sneaked up and killed and scalped Betty and the older children. A little Black girl, who worked for the family, grabbed up the baby from its cradle, ran out the back door, and jumped down into a clay hole where clay had been dug to make the chimney for the house. Weeds had grown up in and around this clay hole, making it an ideal hiding place. When the men came home from work they found the little Black girl and the baby the only survivors. ISABEL, born 7 Jan 1827 , died 9 Nov 1882, married Jesse Johns JACOB, born 1824 married Dora Ann ELIZABETH, born 1835 never married, bore several children. William is believed to have been buried in a field at an old deserted grave yard, long overgrown on what was known as the Henry Gainey Farm. it is now owned by Leonard Raulerson, son of Elizabeth and grandson of William. It is located south of Moniac on the St. Marys River, possible site of William's Ferry. WESTBERRY RAULERSON born 23 April 1818 in Ware Co., died 13 Feb 1887 at Johnsville in Baker Co. Buried North Prong Cemetery, son of William and Elizabeth. Married on 5 Jan 1842 at Raulerson Ferry, Elizabeth "Betsy" Canady, of Charlton Co.,Ga. died 15 Oct 1905 Baker Co., Fl. Dau of John M. Candy, Sr. and Missouri Powell, dau of Wm Powell and Polly Copinger and sister of Chief Osceola (Seminole). COUPLE'S CHILDREN MARTHA, born 1842 Baker County died 1869, md. Calvin Johns JOHN MILLAGE, born Sept 1845, died 18 Mar 1922, married (1) Annie Johns. 2 children: James, born 1867, and Bessie, born 1869, married George Ellison. John married (2) Serena Yarbrough. 11 Children: 1-Martha, born 1872, married to John Yarbrough; 2-Noah, born 1875, who married Malinda Rhoden; 3-Margaret born 1877 married R.T. Thrift; 4-William Owen, born 1879, 5-Surina, born 1880, married Henry Gainey, 6-Alice, born 1882, married John Reynolds, 7-John H., born 1884, married Martha (Mattie) Crews.( 9 children, 1-Charles, married Genevieve Crawford; 2-Nancy married Fed Privett, and they have two children, Gilbert and Horace; 3-Lee, who married Elsie Smith, to whom were born Lee Jr. and Linda, 4-Edna, married to Yulee Privett, with children Winona, Cecil and Gene; 5-Eddie, married Ida Lee Smith; 6-Eva, who married Fred Geiger, and to them were born Thelma, Geanie, Fred, Glynn, Zemus, Lois and Walter; 7-Elvie, married Woodrow Sikes, and their children are Norma, Judy and Arlene; 8-O.D.; 9-Leila, married Marvin Johns, to whom were born John, Elaine and Susan). 8-Dan, born 1886, married Lovie Johns; 9-Annie, born 1888, married J.0. Phillips; to, Etta, born 1890, married Mose Raulerson; 11- Ella, born 1894, married (1) Leo H. Dykes (2) Dr. E.W. Crockett, Sr. WEST, JR., born 1850, married Louise Lamb/Lamp JACK J. born 1854, married Louise Crawford MICHAEL born 1856, married Emily Crews HENRY born 1857 WILLIAM R. 'PINK' born 5 Jan 1858, died 6 Jan 1922, Married America Texas Dinkins. SARAH J. born 1859, married Jack J. Newmans/Newmore on 7 Aug 1877. MARGARET 'Sis' RAULERSON, married John Parker JACKSON, born 1865 in Charlton Co., Ga. Married Lou Crawford FRANCIS, born 1867 in Charlton Co., Ga. WILLIAM M. 'PINK' RAULERSON Born 6 Jan 1858 in Georgia, died 6 Jan 1922 in Baker County, Fl. Married America Texas Dinkins on 5 Nov 1879, born Sanderson, Baker, Fl. on 18 Dec 1861, daughter of Belone/Belona Dinkins and Melvina Texas Dopson, who never married. America was reared by Melvina and her husband Joseph Dinkins, brother to Belone) COUPLE'S CHILDREN, all born Baxter, Baker, Fl. Li11ie, Born 30 Apr 1881, died 4 Nov 1919. Married Dennis D. Yarbrough on 23 Feb 1899. Lillie married 2nd. 11 Jan. 1913 Hugh B. Brown, born 7 July 1892 Baker County Florida, died 27 Nov. 1931. Albert, Born 28 Jan 1883, died 3 Apr 1952 Married Amandy Ganey Alonza, Born 1 Jan 1885, died 9 Oct 1950, Married Katie Fish Mary, Born 10 June 1888, died 15 Sep 1963, Married Barney Crawford 10 June 1902 Arthur, Born 14 May 1892, died 29 Apr 1969, Married I-Lizzie Johns and 2-Minnie Burnsed. Walter, Born 2 Nov 1894, died 15 June 1934, Married Emma Connor 28 Feb 1915. Orble, Born 13 Mar 1897, died 5 Jan 1962, Married Mollie Crews 6 June 1919 Amy, Born 16 Dec 1889, died 11 Oct 1919, Married Will Powers Cealie, Born 24 Aug 1900, died 4 Jul 1918, Married Lonnie Sweat Charles, Born 14 Feb 1902, died 27 Nov 1960 Lloyd, Born 23 Dec 1904, Died 22 Dec 1948, Married Mae G. Anderson Gennary, Born 27 Apr 1908, died 27 Oct 1929, Married Candy Raulerson Wilford, Born 27 Apr 1908, died 27 Feb 1968,Married Lizzie Raulerson Additional information about the Raulerson-Brown families can be found in the Baker county Historical society among the files and records of Virgil Raulerson and Cassie Dinkins, and the Knabb, Brown, Raulerson records of the late Lois Coleman and Paul Knabb, available in the Baker County Historical society. _____________________________________________________________________________ The Historic Franklin mercantile For decades it has stood guard, watching over the serene and peaceful little town of Glen St. Mary Through two world wars, the Great Depression, and natural disasters, The Franklin Mercantile has remained steadfast, a tribute to the quality of life of a by-gone era. Although the exact construction date of the stately two-story building is unknown, the main portion is believed to have been built prior to 1897. From the spring of 1911, Jesse Earl Franklin and his family lived here in the family quarters with its neighborly front porch swing and inviting rocking chairs amid a wide variety of the family's beautiful plants and blooming flowers. They operated a general mercantile and post office in the main building until Earl's retirement as postmaster in 1959. He and his wife, Miss Sally, are still fondly remembered by many today. Playing a significant role in the development of the community, the Mercantile served as the social and commercial center of town, affording the local folks news from far away places, as well as necessary provisions of the day. With the train depot just across the railroad tracks, the Franklin Mercantile was truly a gathering place. After Earl's death in 1968, though, it seems as if time stood still there. Year after year, the talented Tomlinson sisters, Tonda Griffis and Cathy Mendolera, like so many others, were smitten with the grand old building and often stood in awe and gazed inquisitively at the curious old, rugged and aged structure with the inviting homespun balcony. It finally dawned on them; this could be the perfect setting for an old-time general store again. With the help of Earl's only son, Cecil Franklin, the sisters' dream became a reality and in 1992, after 81 years in the Franklins' possession, the Mercantile began a new chapter in its history. Today, the grand old edifice is surrounded in a sentimental atmosphere, overflowing with elegance and charm. It is a showcase for the handiwork of local artists, craftsmen and writers. Old fashioned rocking chairs deck the porch with folksy charm, while inside an inviting and challenging checkerboard summons you to play a game. An assortment of local history books bids you to relax and recall the past. "Miss Kathryn's Parlor" invites one to browse among a wide selection of antiques and collectibles. The cupboard in "Granny's Kitchen" is filled with a wide variety of archaic and Depression Era dishes, kitchen gadgets and rare curios of days past. Most unique is the "Man-tiques" room, catering to the masculine collector or browser, and set apart from the woman's world of antiquated relics. Visitors shop to strains of nostalgic melodies intermingled with the aromas of mulling spices and potpourri. Occasionally, you are treated to a slice of Cathy's old-timey bread pudding and always the charm of the two radiant sisters. Whatever you are looking for, or hoping to see, you'll most likely find it, and more, at The Historic Franklin Mercantile. The sisters invite you to come stroll down memory lane with them at Franklin Mercantile. You're sure to enjoy the visit and return again and again with your friends. Call (904) 259-6040 for more information. The store is opened Wednesdays through Saturdays from 10 a.m. until 6 p.m. _____________________________________________________________________________ ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Many people have asked me how I became interested in writing, especially as it developed into so many varied phases: diarys, journals, poetry, songs, letters, short stories, features, interviews and on and on. So this is that story because I owe a debt of graditude and acknowledgement to many people who have paved the way for me to do the work I have always loved and had an avid interest in. Through my paternal lineage there has been a succession of writers, some famous and some, like me, who write for the enjoyment and fulfillment it brings. To those who came before me I owe much for my endowment. Edgar Lee Masters, a great American writer, and I share a great grandfather Notley Masters. It has been said by many that his literary offerings changed the coarse of American literature. He is best known among his countless contributions for his Spoon River Anthology, and he has written verses, songs and satires. World Book encyclopedia says "his writing style is that of his own instead of regular form. His works reflect that of his life and his portrayal of characters is remarkable." I regret to say I've never read his many contributions although I have an autographed copy of "Across Spoon River" about our Masters family .... a gift from his son Hilary, also a writer. Colleagues and educators have told me that we possess the same style and characterization of writing skills, and for those observations I am humbled. My narratives, in whatever form, are not written with any thought of achieving literary distinction. Far from it. It is merely an effort to leave in some form of preservation things of a much simpler and less hurried, less harried age. Things we may be too busy to sit and listen to now yet will want to know in later years. In tracing the Master's family tree, I have interviewed many members of this family who possess writing skills and are adept at writing family sketches just as Edgar, though they are not as famous. Like me, they are amatuers who do it for the love and enjoyment of it. Before my Uncle Homer Moore died, he wrote me long descriptive discourses on members of our family that he knew personally, but who died long before I was born. His sister, my Aunt Ruth Campbell, wrote a book, like Edgar, on the family, for the love and fun of it. My favorite letters are shared with Aunt Ruth's grandaughters, Suzanne Banks Potts, and Marilyn Banks Horn, of Atlanta Georgia. Their lively descriptions of people, places and things, are more vividly portrayed than any famous authors I have read. Therefore, I firmly believe that my Father in Heaven has given this particular family talents with a mission. I'm very proud to say too, that all three of my children keep journals and family records, all three write poetry and interesting descriptive letters. My daughter Teri is editor of her company's newsletter. When Teri's daughter, Kayla, was only two she discovered my pictorial journal on the dining table, grabbed a pen, and quickly made her writing debut directly on top of what I had written and illustrated with photos. I was so thrilled to think she might be the next family scribe that I couldn't very well get upset with her. And how thrilled I was when my 11 year old granddaughter Tabitha requested a diary for Christmas, and my 10 year old grandson Ryan asked for a journal. Of course, I honored their request. Tabitha, who is a 7th generation Baker Countian, became a Middle School columnist/reporter for The Baker County Standard and did a great job. Her award winning poem, What I Want To Be, is published in the 1990 Baker County-Wide Homecoming book. So I am very grateful for my heritage. Had it not been for my mother, Blanche Fraser Moore, moving to North Carolina when I was twelve I might never have thought about writing professionally. It was there, in Wilmington, that I lived across the street from a girl, my age, who wrote a column about teenagers for the local paper. When I returned to Macclenny in 1950 and entered the sophomore class, I approached Mr. Tate Powell, Sr. and his son, Tate Jr. about doing a column called "High School Highlights". They gave me my first job ... without pay of course. It was so much fun that I extended it into the summer months as "Teen Times". When I graduated from Macclenny-Glen High School, Tate, Jr. offered to send me to college to pursue writing, but I was not in a position to consider his offer. A few years later, after I began my marriage and children, I wrote a column for him called, "News and Views" that contained the comings and goings of Baker Countians and the local social activities. Sometimes I added a "Citizen of the Week" to my column, highlighting senior citizens. I worked free but when my family began to expand, and I had no money for baby sitters, I reluctantly gave it up. Mr. Powell called me up and said he had people 'storming my door in protest that your writing has ceased' so he offered me $ 10 a month to continue. That was a lot of money in 1957. It was enough to pay someone $1.25 for a whole afternoon to sit with my napping children and clean my house too while I went out getting news and doing interviews. But that all ended when we moved away from Baker County and I chose to devote the next two decades to being a homemaker and writing for personal enjoyment. In the late 1970s I became a close friend of Nancy Weir, Food Editor for the Florida Times Union. Nancy read a story I wrote on Emily (Davis) (Mrs. Clede) Harvey from Baker County. She shared the story with Doreen Sharkey, her editor in Lifestyle, who in turn obtained permission from me to publish it in the cooking section of a Thursday's edition of The Florida Times Union. The story received an immediate response from the public who requested the paper print more such stories. Doreen asked me to become the Country Cooking feature writer for the Lifestyle section. Many of the stories I wrote are about Baker Countians. To Nancy and Doreen I owe a debt of gratitude. And for our continuing friendship I am grateful. In addition to the Country Cooking features, Nancy had paved the way for me to meet the Week-End Editor, Elvin Henson, about writing a column on genealogy. At first he was reluctant to hire someone inexperienced in journalism, but after the story on Emily Harvey appeared he gave me the chance to write for him. For his confidence in giving me an opportunity to become a regular columnist for The Florida Times Union I shall forever be thankful. The chance has given me an enormous amount of opportunities and wonderful experiences through the years. Though he has retired, we keep in touch and share a friendship that I treasure. In addition, Mr. Henson published multitudinous of my week-end feature stories, on front page and in color. I wrote about people from all walks of life and found the experience exhilirating. I had the same experience writing for the Times-Union Features Department. It was Features Editor, Ripley Hotch, who first mentioned that I should consider publishing my stories in a book. He told me that the portions of my features being edited for space were too good to be lost. He encouraged me to keep my hard copy and consider publishing them complete with all the information I had gathered. And had it not been for the opportunity Lifestyle Editor, Norm Going, gave me to interview Loretta Lynn, I might have never gained the confidence to interview and write about other celebrities like Alex Haley, Donna Fargo, Conway Twitty and Pat Surnmerall. For Norm's confidence, I am indeed indebted. To Bill Roach, who has edited Volumes III, IV, and V of the Once Upon a Lifetime series for me, I am equally indebted. He was one of my professors at the University of North Florida. Since he and his wife Chris share an interest in genealogy, we became friends, and have remained so over the years. I deeply appreciate all the assistance and counsel he so willingly gives me. And even with all the above, this book and any others that follow, may not have been possible without the love and devotion, patience and caring shown by my son Zac. When I first began writing for the Times Union I used an old, very old, manuel typewriter. Zac encouraged me to get an electric type writer, but I was afraid of power failure and not meeting a deadline. So he just walked in one day with a top of the line Olivetti and said, 'just try it Mom'. I kept it, and couldn't imagine life without it, but I also kept that old manuel 'just in case'. Then the computer age dawned, and Zac was telling me I needed a computer. Once again I wouldn't hear of something that 'might break down', or in computer language, 'crash', and leave me stranded. In 1992 when I received one for Christmas, I knew it was Zac who had put it on Santa's list. Today, I can't even imagine this book, or any other thing I write, going to print with out it. Zac has furnished me software, and any assistance, I may need on the computer, but it is for his patience and empathy (my computer and I have a very long way to go before we understand each other), and support that I am most grateful. The One I shall give the most credit is my Heavenly Father. He has provided me with all these good friends, opportunities and counsel, for which I am void of expression when it comes to verbalizing my deep and heartfelt gratitude. it is to Him that I give all the honor, and credit that may ever come for this work. La Viece (Moore-Fraser) Smallwood 1995