I have known for a long time that most of my family (on both sides) came from the south. Most of them fought for the Confederate Army. And I sort of took a perverse pleasure in that I came from a stock of rebels. And, I’ve always been proud, in some sort of way, that those relatives never actually owned slaves – at least so far as I’ve found.
Back in the Summer of 2015 Ben Affleck caused a bit of a crisis in the TV show “Finding Your Roots” when they found an ancestor of his was a slave owner. He tried to get the show (or at least the information about the slave owning ancestors) suppressed. At the time I thought that this was a bit silly. I mean, why worry about what your ancestor did? What they did doesn’t describe who you are, does it?
Mr. Affleck isn’t the only one with this problem. I watched another documentary that discussed some of the issues of the relatives of Adolf Hitler and Heinrich Himmler not too long ago and felt bad for those relatives! Their entire lives seemingly defined by what their infamous relations did.
When I found this information, I didn’t know how to feel. Elated that I found new information as a genealogist and let down that I couldn’t be “proud” I had no slave owner ancestors. And then these conflicting emotions hit me while I was talking about genealogy with someone at work. This someone, oh by the way, is of mixed race (half white & half African-American). It wasn’t until after the discussion (where, yes, I did mention these slave owners) I started wondering if I put my foot into my mouth somehow. To me, this was a historical and research discussion. But that was not likely how these things are thought about by others!
I wonder what happened to these slaves. I know that William Black died before the Civil War. So, I can hope that his will freed them. I’ll need to travel to the county where he died and find the probate records. I couldn’t find Samuel Porter in the Slave Schedules for Porter in 1860, so I can hope he set them free. And Isaac Shannon moved from his home in Arkansas to Texas during the middle of the Civil War (to get away from it); not sure how convenient it would have been to travel with slaves at the time – so I can hope that he set them free first. But that’s unlikely.
So… the fact that these three families were slave owners is important; but it isn’t all there is to these peoples’ lives.
William Black, for example, was a Captain of 1st Company in Major H. Rennick’s Mounted Battalion of Kentucky Volunteers under Gen. Andrew Jackson during the Creek War of 1812 as can be seen by these sources:
Samuel Porter seemed to be a contrarian politically speaking and ended up owning about 600 acres of land. He was a devoted Baptist and an “old-line Whig” in politics.
Isaac Shannon is currently lost to me. I can’t find where or when he died. I do know that his wife and family moved back to Arkansas after the war.
Anyway… our family has the spectre of being descended from Confederates and slave owners. Does that have a bearing on who we are? Or how we act? I don’t think so; but then I don’t come from ancestors who were the slaves!
While randomly researching names in the online newspaper archives (when I had a subscription to newspapers.com) I found some interesting stories. This is one of those stories… [heh – that reminds me of the start of the old TV series Dragnet].
It turns out that weapon accidents are nothing new. I found my great-grandfather, Von Flaugh, (my mother’s mother’s father) had an accident with a shotgun that, apparently, messed him up pretty badly.
Before we get into the details, let’s look at some basics.
born in March 1889 in Pagosa Springs, CO
lived in Pagosa Springs until 1905 when he moved to La Plata, NM
lived in La Plata, Aztec, and Flora Vista until 1935 when he moved to Ignacio, CO
had my grandmother, Margaret Etta Flaugh, in January 1913
wounded himself in November 1913
had my great uncle Herbert Flaugh in May 1914
registered for the draft in June 1917
I bring these up because the timing of the accident is fortuitous. The accident happened after his wedding and subsequent birth of my grandmother – without whom I would not be here to write this blog!!
At the time Von and his wife (and his parents) were living in La Plata, NM while her parents were living about 15 miles away near Aztec, NM. And, while Lucy was visiting her parents, Von went hunting rabbits [heh – now I’m thinking of Elmer Fudd]. After a while, he decided to head back to the house. Fortunately (?) he saw someone riding a wagon from Bloomfield to Aztec and asked to catch a ride (most people didn’t own automobiles back then).
He got up into the wagon and placed the shotgun on the floorboard butt down between his legs. Unfortunately, the floorboards shifted and the shotgun slid down between the boards allowing the hammer to strike and fire the weapon!
The entire shot went into his leg (tearing off an 8 inch chunk) and then entered his groin!
He was taken to Farmington General Hospital (a good 20 miles away or so) where he stayed for at least two weeks. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find when he was discharged.
He survived for another 23 years with this wound; but still died at the young age of 47 years old. By all accounts, when he died it was from complications associated with this accident. My Uncle Bob (a doctor no less and the grandson of Von) tells me that it could have been an embolic stroke or an infection that ultimately caused Von’s death.
If this happened today, he would have likely been at the hospital and in surgery within the hour via our local Air Care helicopter. Back then… not so timely.
Twenty miles in a buggy? Ouch. Even if if they did have an automobile nearby it would have likely been a Ford Model T which could get up to 40-45mph. Now drive that Model T about 20 miles over dirt roads! I’m not sure which would be worse. Once you get to the hospital, you’re looking at him getting medical care from doctors that have never heard of a World War (World War One won’t start for another six months or so).
So, once again, I find a story that basically tells me that I shouldn’t complain about my life when it goes nuts! The people in my past have had it much harder. I can only wonder if our descendants (well, I have none, but my niece’s descendants) will think the same thing about us.
It turns out that Mathias (that’s what I’ll call him because most of his military paperwork goes by that), was born of a baker in Rimhorn, Germany in 1752. But he never met his dad, since he died a few weeks before Mathias was born.
Wikipedia states that Indentured servitude was a labor system whereby young people paid for their passage to the New World by working for an employer for a certain number of years. It was widely employed in the 18th century in the British colonies in North America and elsewhere.
But… I think he paid off his debt early or John Peter let him go; because he joined the Continental Army on July 13, 1776. Most of the file in the previous link are several pieces of correspondence discussing Mathias and his service. Pages 8, 9, & 34 basically summarize the entire file. He was originally under Colonel Nicholas Haussegger (check out his story – turns out he was thought to have been a traitor at one point) and he fought in these battles:
Trenton – January 2, 1777 (Interesting that Mathias was a Hessian and he fought in America’s first major victory against Hessian troops).
Brandywine– September 11, 1777 (Our side wasn’t victorious all the time – we lost this battle).
Germantown– October 4, 1777 (And we lost this battle).
Monmouth – June 28, 1778 (This one seems to be mostly a draw until the British withdrew from the battle at night).
Some times our family history is tied to oral traditions (which sometimes become legends) and this makes it interesting to find the facts through research. For example, one of our surnames is Johnson (my mother’s mother’s mother was a Johnson). Therefore, mom used to say that we were related to President Andrew Johnson. Well, I haven’t come across that connection yet – and don’t really expect to.
Another example of finding the facts from verbal knowledge concerns my grandpa Cliff Collins. His two sons and my dad know much of his merchant marine story – except they all remember it just a bit differently from each other.
So this is what I’ve found…
Information that looks like this is what I found while doing the research.
As recollected by his sons…
He started the war as a carpenter working at several military bases through-out the southwest, including Fort Huachuca, AZ, Tooele, UT (Dugway proving grounds), Pacific Grove, CA (Fort Ord) plus others. He worked as part of a construction crew that included Herb Flaugh, Bill Johnson, Brady Johnson, Chick Johnson, ?Marvin Johnson, ??Sallee and others. They apparently were living as gypsies out of their cars and in trailers when they could find them.
Dad, apparently got into a disagreement with an Army sergeant at one of the construction sites (Fort Ord, I think) his work exemption was lifted and he was placed into the draft pool at age 33. To keep from being an infantry grunt he went to the nearest seaport and signed on in the merchant marine as a ship’s carpenter.
Or it was a major or colonel that he got into a disagreement with depending on which son you talk to about this story. His academy paperwork shows that he was a Stewards Mate not a carpenter.
He first went to training at U. S. Maritime Service Training Station, Avalon, Catalina Island, California. He used to tell of having to run up a hill for physical training.
Service records indicate this was April-May 1944.
His first ship was the White Shoals – a seagoing tug; he was a plank owner.
He was assigned to this ship in May 1944 as a Stewards Mate several months after commissioning so I don’t believe he was a plank owner. The basic mission of seagoing tugs was to salvage and tow other ships of the fleet that have been damaged in battle or by weather. They can serve as the flagship of a salvage unit assigned to a specific task, and are frequently called on to tow floating dry docks and other non-self-propelled craft long distances.
They took it out of New Orleans, LA. Somewhere, I think San Francisco, they picked up a Floating Dry-Dock and towed it to Kwajalein, Truk, Guam, or Ulithi Marshall Islands. They used a long hawser attached to the dry dock, and they pulled the hawser it formed a long U with the dry dock about a 300-400 yards behind them.
Information found on Fold3.com shows that the White Shoals became disabled in Sep 1943 in the Panama Canal and had to be towed to Cristobal. The timing doesn't seem like he'd have been on the boat as it went through the Canal before he finished at the academy.Later it towed the Dry-Dock to Manus, Admiralty Islands, Papua New Guinea.
He got into trouble with his crewmates the first night out… He was to make coffee; well they only put chicory coffee in the galley. That is what he fixed at 4am. They threatened to keel-haul him until they found out that was all there was, so everybody learned to drink chicory; but dad was taken off the coffee making chores. He never did make good coffee.
At some point after they got the dry dock into the Pacific, he changed ships again. The SS Bernardo O’Higgins was a riveted Liberty ship (some were riveted, some welded.) He picked it up at Port Chicago, near San Francisco loaded with ammo.
A letter written to him in Aug 1944 by his wife was stamped “NOT ABOARD. RETURN TO SENDER; so we can assume he was transferred to a different ship before then.
Twenty four hours after they left Port Chicago the ship next to which they were moored blew up taking a big chunk of Port Chicago with it
The SS E. A. Bryan was the ship and this occurred 17 Jul 1944 which makes this recollection “iffy” since the floating dry dock that White Shoals was transporting didn’t get to its destination until 12 Oct 1944. Another option is that he left the White Shoals before the drydock made it to its destination; although this means he would have been on the White Shoals for only a couple of months.
The Bernardo O’Higgins was also involved in a typhoon off the Marianas. They rode it out at sea. The winds were so bad it put a 2-stack DE 14′ up on an island.
All I could find is three destroyers were sunk (not grounded) in a typhoon off Ulithi in December 1944. Another typhoon hit about June of 1945 damaging 21 ships and another typhoon hit the Pacific in August 1945.
He told of standing the early morning watch. One night they were the only ship on the ocean. As the sun came up, he saw ships in front, behind and on either side as far as the eye could see; and later watching the shore bombardment with the night lit up with tracers going overhead and knowing that there was 1 tracer/5 rounds. This ship(?) later struck a mine
The timing for this battle would fit the Leyte Gulf Armada which occurred October-December 1944. The Bernardo O’Higgins is not listed as a ship that was damaged at http://www.usmm.org/shipsunkdamaged.html.
Two other significant events happened while he was on this vessel. First he sat before King Neptune’s Court. He told about swallowing a raw oyster with a piece of thread tied around it, every time it hit bottom they would retrieve it, and make him swallow it again. The other torment, they tied a piece of twine around his penis, attached it to a brick(?) blind folded him and made him hold the brick overboard and drop it. At the instant the twine would have given out they ran a piece of ice across his penis (the twine had already been cut.) He told that tale with glee.
The ceremony of being judged by King Neptune, still in practice today, occurs when a ship crosses the equator.
Second, He had a piece of steel get into his left eye which happened when his ship hit a mine. I can remember vividly his describing the doctor having Dad’s eye resting on his cheek while they took the steel out the back of it.
I think he was ashore in Tacloban until his eye was healed and lost his bunk on the ship he was then on. He spent 7 or 8 weeks waiting for another berth.
The timing of this would have put it after the Battle of Leyte Gulf.
The next was a Victory ship Guatemala Victory I don’t know anything about it other than the name.
This ship was launched in July 1944. I have two letters from Clifford Collins to wife Maggie both written while he was on the Guatemala Victory one dated November 2, 1944 and the other January 10, 1945.
At some point he spent some time in Honolulu. Spoke about how the Tower at the harbor and the Royal Hawaiian were the tallest buildings in Honolulu. He learned to surf while waiting for a ship in Honolulu and promised to teach me.
The last vessel Dad was on was an ATS. He was standing watch when a Victory ship ran over them slicing off the bow of the vessel. Several of his crewmates were in the fo’c’sle, forecastle ie. front of the ship, and were lost. This occurred in San Francisco Bay. I remember him telling me that there was a party going on the victory ship, and that their vessel was running without lights.
ATS = Army Transport Service ie. the Army’s version of navy ship. In records these are also indicated by the abbreviation USAT.
I couldn't find anything of newsworthiness in the right time frame for grandpa to have been involved. But there’s a story from 1946: Victory ship Oneida Victory collided with tanker W. L. R. Emmet off Santa Barbara on 31 Mar 1946 and was severely damaged and towed to Los Angeles. It was towed to San Francisco on 16 May 1946 and laid up unrepaired at Suisun Bay. It was then scrapped in 1949 at Terminal Island. And in the 50s there was a hospital ship that was run over in San Francisco Bay by a merchant vessel; but grandpa was already back in Aztec, New Mexico by then.
To find all the facts, I scoured Fold3.com for the ship names that grandpa was serving aboard. I found MANY references to the ships through the logs of other US Navy ships (remember the merchant marines were not part of the US Navy and their records are lacking and harder to find). So I was able to piece together a timeline of where the various ships were and what they were doing at the time. Some of it matches up with the remembrances of the family – some don’t.
So, what’s next? A trip to San Francisco to look up the ship’s logs for each vessel grandpa served on. Unfortunately, these are not available via the Internet.
My first post for this blog… You’d think I’d talk about a story that happened in my family. But, no…
The date: 15 Feb 1909
The time: 7:00pm
The place: Sunset Boulevard, Los Angeles, CA
The victim: Frank Righetti (a newlywed of about a year)
Suspect 1: Elijah Benjamin Nuchols of Oxnard, CA
Suspect 2: Unknown?
After stepping off of a street car within a block and on his way home, Frank was accosted by two men. Frank claimed he was being robbed (the police, however, believed this was a revenge shooting) but was shot before they took anything. The first shot was in the stomach, followed immediately by a second shot to the small of the back as Frank lay on the ground. He later died from his wounds.
Several people saw the shooting, including George and Aldis Webb of 1278 Terrace Place.
And this is how I found out about this story. While researching Mariel's side of the family I came upon an article that shows her grandfather as a 14 year old boy was a witness to this murder.
Within 20 minutes the police had E. B. Nuchols under arrest after giving evasive answers to their questioning and a .38 revolver was found on him. They took him to the hospital where the victim identified him as the shooter.
Later, Nuchols (17 years old) confessed to the shooting but claimed he was the only one involved even though witnesses saw another man run off.
Nuchols’ lawyer wanted to show that the boy’s stature (he was 6’2” tall) had something to do with his mental capacity. They delayed the trial to get word back from his home in the east (turns out he came from Tennessee). His brother indicated that he was of an “even disposition” (coincidentally, a couple weeks later the brother’s room was broken into with several items stolen).
Three months later, it became official that the lawyer would use insanity as a defense. But, after obtaining the depositions they needed, he changed his mind and recommended a plea of guilty.
Ultimately, E. B. Nuchols pleaded guilty to 2nd degree murder and was sentenced to life at San Quentin prison. His prison number 23634. He was paroled January 7, 1919.
Research on Find A Gravefound him having been married and having at least one child before dying in 1979.