A LawtonFest Family Reunion, June 1-2, 2012: Part 7

Hello, and we’re back!  I’ve already written and attempted to post part 7, but WordPress said there was a security certificate error, but really?  Why would it say there was a security error on their own site?  So I deleted that entire post, and stamped my angry little feet, and walked away from it.

So let’s begin again.

We’re at Woodstock Plantation.  You can do a little google search about Woodstock, which dates back to early South Carolina days.  If you get a search result that mentions hippies, just jump right over that.  Wrong Woodstock.  Heh.

The long driveway wound through a woodland setting, and, unbeknownst to us, the driveway swept around the right side of the house.  I completely missed the front of the house because it was obscured by the trees. 

We start our tour with a side shot of the house, which led into the backyard, then up the back steps into the house where we meandered about.  It seems wrong somehow to take photos of someone’s private home, and yet.  I. do. it.

The final shot is a wide shelf mounted on the railing of the back porch.  It was the perfect height for sitting or resting one’s plate, and I did both.

And remember, if you want to stop the slideshow, just hover your mouse pointer over the photo, and see what happens.  Enjoy! 

A LawtonFest Family Reunion, June 1-2, 2012, Part 2

Our Saturday morning started off mild and sunny.  Tropical storm Beryl had dumped lots of rain on the area a few days prior, and indeed, it had rained Friday evening right up until the kick-off dinner.  It was going to be warm and breezy with low humidity.  A perfect day was in store.

We had drafted a new Lawton cousin of Sugar’s.  She was a McIntosh by birth, born in Savannah, and had been inundated her whole life by McIntosh stuff.  She knew very little about her grandmother’s side of the family, and she was about to get a whole overdose of LawtonFest.

We three started toward Estill, but first stopped in the beautiful graveyard at the Robertville Baptist Church in – where else – Robertville.  Robertville was named for the Robert (French Roe-bare) family.  (There is a separate Robert Cemetery that will be a probable blog post in the future.  It has been recently tended, and should be photo-ready, thanks to a Lawton committee.  I’m getting requests from people through www.findagrave.com to go photograph their ancestor’s grave markers, so, soon, people, soon.)

I drove Sugar’s van right over the grass to the edge of the cemetery. It is accepted and expected that you will drive on the grass almost all places you go in this area. I’ve lived here ten years, and I still can’t get used to it.

We three piled out, and Sugar and his cud’n went on a tour while I snapped photos.  That’s how cousin is pronounced here.  Cud’n.  Yeah, it’s crazy I know, but nonetheless true.  If you read Kilgo’s “Daughter of My People”, that’s how he spells it.

Sugar and his cousin are not exclaiming in awe over Joseph Lawton’s grave. They are just talking with their hands.

Sacred
to the Memory of

JOSEPH LAWTON

who died

at Blackswamp, S.C.

March 5, 1815

Aged 61 years

He lived and died a pious Christian

and good Citizen

Lying on the ground behind this marker is the original marker.  The one you can read is a replacement.  I like that idea.  They replaced the old marker before time and the elements erased the inscription. The tombs in the background of the photo are some of Sugar’s peeps.  Joseph Lawton had about 7 children.  One was Alexander James Lawton who is buried in one of those tombs, and you can read the post about his obituary in the Savannah Morning News by clicking here.

I can’t read it either.  We’ll have to go back and make a rubbing, but we had bigger fish to fry today. Below is Mrs. Cordelia Lawton, Alexander James Lawton’s 2nd wife.

Mrs. Cordelia Lawton. Yes, I am standing on her tomb. Sorry about that, but it’s the only way to get this photo. I left my ladder at home.

Here’s close-up of the lower part of the inscription.

 Life’s labor done, as sinks the day.  Light from its land the Spirit flies.  While heaven and earth combine to say,  How blest the righteous when she dies.

  

 

Henry Jackson of Savannah, Georgia

A few weeks back, some of Sugar’s family came to town, and we headed over to Savannah for a little strolling.  We met up at the Sentient Bean for coffee, then made our way over to The Distillery for lunch.  This path meant we walked through Forsyth Park.

The historical marker for Forsyth Park.

In the 1840s, William Brown Hodgson (1801-1871) conceived the

idea of setting aside ten acres of wooded land at this site for

development of Savannah’s first recreational park.  It was named for

former Georgia Governor John Forsyth (1780-1841).  William

Bischoff created the original landscape design.  In the early 1850s

improvements to the park included removal of some pines for

walkways and ornamental plantings, benches, and iron fencing

around the perimeter.  In 1854 the fountain and radiating walks

were added.  Originally created as a military parade ground, the

twenty-one-acre Park Extension was added in 1867.  The dummy

forts were built in c. 1909 and used for training during World War I.

Erected by the Georgia Historical Society and

Trustees’ Garden Club, Inc.

*****

Here’s the magnificent fountain in the heart of Forsyth.

Along the way…

As we made our way out of the park, still headed northwards, Sugar pointed to a building across the street.  He said that it was the law office of his great-grandfather Basinger’s partner. You see how it is, don’t you?  You can’t even stroll  down the street in Savannah without Sugar pointing out some landmark relating to his family.

*****

This building, now the quarters of a private Club, was erected in

1857 for Edmund Molyneux, British consul at Savannah, and served

as his residence and as the Consulate until Molyneux’s return to

England in 1863.  In 1865 the Molyneux house was appropriated by

the Union army as headquarters for General O. O. Howard and his

successor, Gen. Wm. F.Barry.  Representatives of the family claimed

that furnishings valued at more than $10,000.00, including part of the

famous Molyneaux wine cellar, were damaged or removed during the

Federal occupation.

The mansion was purchased from the Molyneux family in 1885 by Gen.

Henry R. Jackson and was the home of the illustrious Georgian

until his death in 1898.

Jackson equally distinguished himself as lawyer, soldier, diplomat

and poet.  He was Judge of the Eastern Circuit of Georgia (1849-’53)

and in 1859 was special prosecutor for the United States in the

celebrated case of the slave ship “Wanderer”.  He fought in the Mexican

War and won distinction in the Confederate army as a brigadier

general.  He was ambassador to Austria (1854-’58) and minister to

Mexico (1883-’86).  A gifted poet, the best known of Jackson’s poems is

“The Red Old Hills of Georgia”.

After a yummy lunch, we headed back south, passing through several more of Savannah’s famous squares.

The great Polish patriot to whose memory this monument is

erected was mortally wounded approximately one-half mile north-

west of this spot during the assault by the French and American

forces on the British lines around Savannah.  October 9, 1779,

General Pulaski was struck by a grapeshot as he rode forward

with customary ardor,  from where his cavalry was stationed to

rally the disorganized Allied columns.  The fatal ball which was

removed from his thigh by Dr. James Lynah of South Carolina is

in possession of the Georgia Historical Society at Savannah.

Doubt and uncertainty exists as to where Pulaski died and as

to his burial – place.  A contemporary Charlestown, S. C. newspaper

item and other sources indicate that he died aboard a ship bound

for that port.  It was generally believed that he was buried at sea.

A tradition persisted, however, that General Pulaski died at

Greenwich plantation near Savannah and that he was buried there.

When the monument here was under erection the grave at Greenwich

was opened. The remains found there conformed, in the opinion

of physicians, is a man of Pulaski’s age and stature and were

re-interred beneath this memorial in a metallic case in 1854.

*****

The other side of the marker shows the monument beyond.

And yet another aspect of the monument…

And one final shot. Pardon the pun.

Dr. George Mosse of Ireland and SC

One of Sugar’s ancestors is Dr. George Mosse who lived in Revolutionary times.  George and his wife Dorothy Phoebe Norton Mosse had seven daughters, three of whom married Lawtons.

You can read a bit about Dr. George Mosse here.  You can also do an internet search for more of the standard information about George Mosse.

Sugar’s uncle Edward Lawton wrote several books, one of them being Saga of the South.  Edward mentions a tidbit about Dr. George Mosse, who was captured by the British.  While a prisoner on a ship, he spotted an island that he knew to be friendly, and he slipped overboard and swam underwater for as long as he could, and made his way to safe territory.  He and his family lived on St. Helena’s Island in the Beaufort District, later moving to Savannah for better educational opportunities for his family, and then moving to Black Swamp, SC, an area now close to Garnett.

*****

Last Saturday early, by 7 AM, I was doing some bookwork at home on my laptop for Sugar’s new grooming and boarding business, when he called to remind me to pick up some supplies at the building supply center for a project at the business.  But first I had to head over to the grooming business because there were some boarders who needed to be fed and walked.  I took care of the boarders, and the resident cats, Errol, Car E., and Gerald (who still needs a home, y’all).  I stopped at the Burger King for a breakfast biscuit and some coffee, and for a brief moment wavered between going there or to the Waffle House.  Then I stopped at the post office for stamps and to check the post office box.  Next I headed over the Sugar’s to get his van to transport the supplies.  I got the van with no problem and headed to the home supply store, when I got a phone call to meet someone back at the grooming business for boarding.  So I deviated over to wait on the boarder. 

This was unusual activity for me for a Saturday.  I like to sleep late, and generally don’t accomplish very much.  I was eager to get back to the accounts for the business, because I’m using a new program, and I’d just about figured it out.  It was weighing heavy on my mind to get this task accomplished. 

The boarder finally showed up, and I headed over to the home supply store, made my purchase, and it was loaded into the van.  I headed back to Sugar’s to leave the van with its cargo, and to trade out the vehicles, when I spotted a beauty/barber shop, and desperately needing a haircut, I pulled in.  The woman said the haircut would be $10.  My wallet was empty, and I realized that my emergency stash was in my car, and I was in Sugar’s van.  I asked the woman if she would take a check and she said no, so I told her I’d be back in 15 minutes.  On the way back to the van, I reached in my pocket for the keys, and I found that I had some money in my pocket after all, easily enough for a haircut, and for one moment I stopped, looking at the money in my hand, not sure what to do.  Do I go back in the shop or do I go get my car?  Another vehicle pulled into the parking lot, and a fellow that I had just seen at the home supply store went into the shop, so that sealed my decision.  I’d go on, get my car, and come back. 

I pulled into his driveway when I noticed something that looked like a small dog curled up in front of Sugar’s address sign.  But that didn’t make sense.  It’s a busy highway and why would a dog just curl up there?

I rolled down the window with one hand and reached for the camera with the other.  I thought the dog would run when he saw me, but he just looked mournfully at me, and turned his head away.  I could see blood on his muzzle and on his front feet, and there were a few splashes on his coat.

He let me pat his head with one hand while I called a local vet’s office on my cell phone.  I scooped him up and put him in the van, then drove on down Sugar’s driveway, and transferred him into my car.  I called Sugar and told him that I was enroute to the vet’s with a dog from his driveway.

The vet found no broken bones and only an abrasion on his right front foot that was deep enough to bleed freely, but the blood had already started to clot.  When they asked if he had a name, I popped out with “George Mosse”.  They looked confused at each other, and I explained, “Well, of course, George Mosse, the famous Revolutionary patriot that is Sugar’s ancestor”, and they said, “Yes.  Of course”.  A little clean-up, and a rabies shot, and we were on our way, back to the grooming business that was starting to look like a shelter.

George Mosse at the ready with a saber and cat trap.

Later, when Sugar got finished working for The Man, we went to the business so he could meet George Mosse.

Sugar fills the food and water bowls at the cat station at the business.

But how did our George Mosse come to be curled up at the end of Sugar’s driveway?  Sugar has a theory.  Our George Mosse was a captive on a vehicle, and he sensed a friendly island in hostile territory, and he flung himself from the ship, causing bodily harm to himself, and made his way to a friendly land.

Yeah, I didn’t get the books finished nor did I get a haircut.

The Gamble Ancestry, September 25, 1909

A family reunion of the Gamble family was held on September 25, 1909, which resulted in a booklet that is available at the Blount County Library in Maryville, Tennessee, in the Family Records. A nice library volunteer lady copied this booklet and sent it to me over ten years ago.   To read more about my line, look on page 7 under Josias and his second wife, Betsy Boling.  (It was Elizabeth “Betsy” Boling Gamble who wrote a letter to her daughter Susan Jane Gamble Davis in a previous post.) I’m descended from their daughter Ruth who married Deaderick Collins.

So here I present to you the Gamble Ancestry.  Left-click on any image to enlarge it, then left-click once again to enlarge it once again.

A LawtonFest, Of Sorts (Part 2)

Saturday, January 15, 2011, found us on the Battery in Charleston.  Sugar’s cousin Margaret and her mother lived in a house on South Battery for many years, facing White Point Gardens (also known as Battery Park) and the Charleston Harbor beyond.  There’s a promenade overlooking the harbor, and you can circle endlessly around the park in your car seeing the sights, or just park and walk.  There are many memorials in the park, far too many for us to have seen on this particular day, but here are a few.

Moultrie wasn't just a fort, he was a man first.

Here’s a link to more information about Moultrie, a Revolutionary patriot.

The morning sun through the live oaks in the park. The harbor is beyond.

I did a search on WordPress using the words “live oak” to see who else is writing about live oaks.  I came up with only two references.  Me.  I wrote both post about live oaks.  You have got to be kidding me.  It is now my duty to let folks know about live oaks, if only to publish pictures of them.  Pictures of live oaks, not people.

This memorial is for the USS Hobson. A closeup photo follows.

 

You can left-click on any photo to enlarge it.  You can then left-click again to enlarge it once again. 

I took photos of the memorial stones from South Carolina, Tennessee, and New York, since all of my commenters are from those states.  Just showing the love.

This live oak embraces the palmetto tree.

Here are more pictures of Cousin Margaret’s house, or rather the right side of it.  The very back corner of the house was once a sun room and over that a porch.  The sun room was incorporated into the kitchen to increase its size and functionality, and the upstairs porch became an enclosed room.

The pinkish building to the rear is the next house. It was once a carriage house that went with Cousin Margaret's house, and there were also servant's quarters in the back garden area.

Colonel John Ashe owned this property and the two adjoining lots.  He built the impressive mansion with the cupola next door to Cousin Margaret’s.  The cupola is in one of the photos in the previous post.  You can read more about Colonel John Ashe by searching the internet, and you can see photos of his house and also of Cousin Margaret’s house when it had three stories by clicking on this link.

More of the same. The next few photos are very similar to this one, so just bear with me.

 

This side of the house faces east, and is nice and shady in the hot summertime.

 

Charleston is famous for its side porches which take advantage of the sea breezes.

 

Some homes have double side porches with one stacked on top of the other.

 

Sugar has a photo, somewhere, of Cousin Margaret on her porch. He's in the process of looking for it.

 

This house is on the corner of King and South Battery.

You can read more about the Siege of Charleston and other Revolutionary-type stuff.  So everybody do your homework, and come visit, and we’ll all go on a day trip with Sugar as our tour guide.  You won’t be disappointed.

The Marsh Tacky of South Carolina

When I was a little girl I read the book “Misty of Chincoteague”, the story of a horse from the islands of North Carolina.  Before that, in first grade I spent most of recess galloping around the playground, snorting and whinnying and tossing my beautiful mane.  (No comments on that, please.)

I am pleased to learn that I can scan magazine articles and post them on the internet, and the scanning police do not visit me.  At least, not yet.  So once again I will trot out (pardon the pun) another magazine article for you to enjoy.

Click on the image to enlarge.

Franklin Square, Savannah, GA

This monument attracted our attention when we were across the street at the First African Baptist Church.  Note that we started taking pictures at the front of the monument, and worked our way around clockwise.  Watch how the shadows change.

And here are more random shots of the monument.  It is a magnificent piece of statuary.

Around the base of the monument are bricks engraved with the names of donors who contributed money toward this project.   

The drummer’s hat has fallen off.  If you enlarge the picture below, you can just see a bit of it in the lower left of the picture.  The drummer was working very hard at his job, and couldn’t stop to pick up his hat. 

A very grand, very fitting memorial to Haiti, whose soldiers helped the colonies gain their independence.  Savannah is full of surprises.  I hadn’t expected to find something like this at all.

First African Baptist Church, Savannah, GA

First African Baptist Church, Savannah, GA

“THE FIRST AFRICAN BAPTIST CHURCH OF NORTH AMERICA

THE OLDEST BLACK CONGREGATION IN NORTHA AMERICA BEGAN IN 1773.  MAY 20, 1775 THE CHURCH WAS BORN WITH REV. GEORGE LEILE AS ITS PASTOR, AND CONSTITUTED JANUARY 20, 1788 WITH REV. ANDREW BRYAN, PASTOR.”

TO THE GLORY OF GOD

“TO THE GLORY OF GOD

 THIS BUILDING WAS ERECTED IN 1859 BY THE MEMBERS OF THE CONGREGATION DOING THE WORK THEMSELVES.  IT IS RATED EXCELLENT IN ARCHITECTURE AND LISTED IN THE NATIONAL REGISTER OF HISTORIC PLACES.

THIS IS THE FIRST BUILDING CONSTRUCTED OF BRICK IN THE STATE OF GEORGIA OWNED BY BLACKS.”

First African Baptist Church

This photo was taken across the street in Franklin Square.  It was not possible to get the entire church with the steeple in one photo.  So here’s a shot of the steeple…

The steeple framed by live oaks

The church is a large building.  There’s a set of steps that frame each side of the entry.  The plaques are at the top of the steps.  Here’s a shot of the steps.  A young boy was there along with his parents with a baby in a stroller.  His parents kept telling him not to get in the photo, but I told them it didn’t matter, he was fine.  He wasn’t moving anyway.

There was once a gate here. The hardware is still attached.

On the wall directly over the little boy’s head is an area with missing stucco that exposes the old brick. 

Old brick exposed

We strolled along the side of the church and found the first azalea in bloom.

Hello spring!

Around the back of the church was a parking lot.  A lady was putting a sign at the entrance of the lot about parking and how much it would cost.  We stopped to chat, and I told her that we were interested in the church because at one time a man named Brister Lawton was a reverend there, perhaps in 1850.  She had heard the name, but did not know his history.

The back of the church

The side of the church as we circle around.

Parking will cost you.

If you want to call these folks at the church, you can use the phone numbers on this sign.  Just add *912* in front for the area code.

Add *912*

Tour information

Photography is not allowed in the church.  And I couldn’t reach the windows with the camera, so no pictures were taken through the window.  And the front doors were locked.  Solid.  But still a good day.

The British Army Crossing & Paris Mill in Screven County GA

BRITISH ARMY CROSSING

On the morning of march 2nd, 1779, the British Command of Lieut.-Col. Prevost reached the west bank of the creek here after an all night march from Hudson’s Ferry. The bridge had been destroyed by Col. Leonard Marbury’s Dragons guarding the rear of Gen. Ashe’s troops bivouacked at Freeman-Miller Bridge 15 miles south.

Infantry and horse forded the stream, engaged and defeated Marbury’s Dragons, capturing some while others escaped over Burton’s Ferry. Marbury’s message to Ashe was intercepted. Prevost’s troops and artillery crossed on pontoons before day of the 3rd, and arrived at the surprised Ashe’s rear by 3:00 P.M.

124-4 GEORGIA HISTORICAL COMMISSION 1953

*****

On January 4, 2009, we went on an outing into Georgia.  We visited the Lawton Cemetery, and I wrote about that part of the day in an earlier post.  After leaving that cemetery, we drove further on to an area known as Millhaven. 

The Millhaven plantation is an old historic one.  Brier Creek runs alongside or perhaps through it – it’s hard to say without further investigation, and sometimes you just can’t let truth interfere with a good story.  Anyway, the entranceway to Millhaven was, of course, gated with a high brick wall.  I held the camera aloft over the brick wall and snapped a few shots to see what lay beyond. 

Over the brick wall to the right of the gate

Trespassers not welcome

More of the same

There was a long drive which cut through the underbrush and trees, and there might have been some buildings waaaaay back in the distance, but you couldn’t tell what they were.  Sugar and I joked about boosting each other over and just strolling down the driveway, acting like we were lost.  We didn’t, but we thought about it.  Good thing we didn’t.

The entrance is near the bridge that crosses Brier Creek.  Along one side of the road, right before you get to the bridge, there are two historical markers.  One is for Paris Mill and the other for the British Army Crossing.  We parked off to the side, with the car facing the signs.  The first one was Paris Mill.  I snapped a photo.  The next was the British Army Crossing.  I snapped another photo.  Beyond the signs was the sign for Brier Creek.  I snapped a photo, and then we walked to the creek’s embankment to see the tiny little creek below.  Sugar was in front of me, and he turned to say something to me.  He had a look of horror on his face as he looked past me back toward the car.  I snapped a picture – which I will not post here – because I thought it was a funny shot.  He breathed out, “Ohhhh, noooo….”

I turned and saw the police car pulled in behind the car.  We met the nicest officer who explained that there had been an arson in the area, and they were inspecting all visitors that weren’t local.  I explained that we were touristing about, and the Sugar’s ancestor was Seaborn Jones, the second owner of Paris Mill (and if my memory serves me, Seaborn Jones was also the father of Elizabeth Jones who married a Lawton.  I’ll get that straightened out later.  I’m supposed to be writing, right now, an assignment for class tomorrow.  Heh.).  The nice officer gave us some locations for some other places we might like to visit in the area.

Mr. Officer let us off the hook for just gawking about.  Talk about a close call.  If we had actually boosted over the fence, the officer would have seen our unoccupied car, inspected it, and found the empty beer bottles (only two) from where we sat at the Lawton Cemetery and drank a beer.  Then we would have been rounded up for trespassing.  Hard to explain that to the children.

 

 

 

Yes you are under the bridge.

See the nice officer's car door. He is coming to arrest us.

*****

“The earliest trade center and industrial development in interior Georgia was established here before the Revolutionary War by Francis Paris, Senior.

A rock dam was constructed across the creek, of which it is said that the 400 horse power developed for the saw and food mills was by far the greatest in the colony.  The rock foundations of the old dam are still embedded in the creek about 300 yards above the present bridge.

Paris sold the land, mills, and appurtanances to Seaborn Jones of Augusta on February 8^th, 1796.”