Mary Belle and John CARR: The Big Puzzle

Mary B. Carr-Doyle

My maternal Great-Grandmother Mary Bell Carr has always been somewhat of a mystery to me. Grandma Margaret talked about her mother often. However, she hardly knew anything about her family history. Mary was born in 1886 in Lynchburg, Virginia. She married Peter Doyle in 1903 becoming a step mother to his three young daughters from his first marriage; Hattie, Mattie and Letha. Mary Belle never talked about her past, not her parents, not her grandparents..nothing. Grandma always said she thought that it was very strange. Who doesn't talk about their family?  she always thought there was some big secret she was hiding. Mary had one brother, John Wesley Carr. Known as "Uncle Johnny". The only thing that was known is that they were from Lynchburg, Virginia. Their mother died when they were children and that they were raised by an aunt. John and Mary were very close. Uncle Johnny didn't talk about his past either. He only said that his mother told him on her death bed to take care of his little sister, Mary. I remember my grandma telling me that in her day, children were seen and not heard. As a child, you just simply did not ask questions. And she never did. She wished that she had known her grandparents. She asked me if I could find out who they were. She said that it would be great if she could just find out what their names were before she died.

As I started looking more into Grandma Mary's past. Cousin Martha, who was very close with Grandma Mary, told me all about her past. She said that Mary Belle and her brother John were the illegitimate children of their mother and the German doctor that she worked for. This doctor took advantage of their mother. The mother died when they were very young. After her death, the father wanted to take Mary and John and raise them, however the mother's family would not have it. She said that they were raised by the mother's family. Aunt Bert or Bertie..she never could remember the name exactly. According to cousin Martha, this was part of the reason why she never spoke of her family. She was too ashamed of being an Illegitimate child.


Looking for Her Parents:
I put up many posts on various message boards hoping to find a connection. Finally a cousin, who seen my post and contacted me. She was from the CARR family. Said that she found the marriage record of Mary and her husband Peter Doyle. This record listed her parents names as Nellie GOGGINS and John CARR There it was! Grandma Margaret was so excited! She had finally found the name of her grandparents.

John Wesley Carr 1884-1959

John W.Carr was born in Lynchburg, Virginia  about 1884. I'm not sure when he came to Minnesota. He first shows up in the 1920 census, where he is shown living with the Sherman Finch Family in St.Paul, MN. He worked as a Chauffeur for the family for 25 years. Mom remembers that he loved to go fishing. He married Sue Sten in about 1938-39. Sue was from Germany. I'm sure that STEN was a shortened version of her original name. After he and Sue divorced he came to live with grandma Margaret. My Mom was a little girl then, she remembers Uncle Johnny bringing her baked beans all the time because she loved them so much. John was a member of the Sterling Club in St.Paul, Mn. To my knowledge he never had any children. He always took care of his sister. He bought her a house after her husband died. Grandma said he had a lot of trouble with his legs from all the driving he did. He died in Hastings, Minnesota in 1956. John was wealthy and left most of his money to his fishing buddies. Grandma always fussed about that.When he died Grandma Mary had him brought to Iowa to be buried in Glendale Cemetery where the family was buried at.

The latest mystery. A cousin who was contacted by a Carr family member, who found adoption records in Iowa stating that that John and Mary were actually NICHOLS and were adopted by the Carr family. She said that the Carr and the Nichols family were related...Hmmm..this is strange being that they were born in Virginia. I'm Still researching this one.

Other than her marriage record. I've never found Mary in any document before 1910. She first shows up in Mahaska county Iowa in the 1910 census, living with her husband and children. As I said earlier, John doesn't show up in the census until 1920, in Minnesota. I realized that searching for my ancestors who were light enough to be taken as white. Makes it more difficult when you don't know exactly what location they were in. Throughout the census records after 1920. John was listed as white and black. Talk about confusing!

Just a few of my endless questions:
Where were Mary B. and her brother John between 1884-1900?
When did Mary come to Iowa?
Who did she go to Iowa with?
Were they really adopted?
It makes me dizzy..So many unanswered questions. Wait..There's another mystery to this story about Grandma Mary! more about that in my next blog post.

 

Siblings: Mary B. Carr Doyle and John Carr-photo courtesy of Shari Chandler Doyle

Denise


© 2013 Denise Muhammad

Finding Hassie Bannarn

Hassie & siblings- with parents, Steve Thompson & Alice Fuller

I came across this photo once again today and knew that it was time to pen this blog which is long over due.

This past summer, my mother called to tell me that she had received a picture of her paternal grandmother, Hassie Thompson Bannarn. She said that the picture was of Hassie as a child with her parents and siblings. She knew that I would be excited, being that in all these years we've never been able to locate a picture of her. Once I saw the picture, I was even more curious because I've never heard of Hassie having any siblings except for one sister named Lela. I wondered if they were really her siblings..if so, why hadn't I ever heard of them.

The Photo 
I have been looking at this picture for months trying to figure out why it looks so strange to me.I've looked at every detail, searching their faces, looking at their clothing. And it occured to me, that the little girl on the right is leaning back. Her eyes look strange, slightly off. Actually both girls are leaning a bit. I wondered if they just had bad posture or if they were  deceased. What a morbid thought. However, I know that there was a time when they took photographs of the dead.They all look so sad to me. Still and solemn. I wonder why they didn't smile back then.


My mother never met her grandmother. She died in 1942, when my mother was just a baby. I've always wondered what she looked like, as did my mother. My Grandma used to tell me all about her mother-in-law, Hassie..Mrs. Bannarn as she called her. She said that she was an Angel and the sweetest woman that she knew. Hassie and her husband Dee Bannarn had come to Minnesota from Oklahoma in about 1913. Hassie later developed severe arthritis that left her body deformed. Her arms and hands were drawn up to her chest. She couldn't walk and was confined to her bed. They took her to many different doctors, even to some place were they had hot springs. They still could not figure out what was wrong or how to cure her condition. Her husband and children took care of her. Grandma Hassie's hair was so long, they would have to drape it over the iron bed rail to brush it and it almost touched the floor. My Grandma remembered Hassie's son, Mike, being very close with his mother. She said that he came home from school everyday and took care of her. My cousin, Mike's daughter, remembered a similar story. She said that he would sleep on the floor next to his mother's bed. Grandma was there the day that Grandma Hassie died. She said that when they lifted her off the bed that the bed springs played a song. " My God Near To Thee". I've never fully understood that, but grandma swore by that story and told it to me a million times.

My Mother at 23 years old.

When I asked my grandma Margaret what Hassie looked like. She replied "Like an Indian woman". They were all Indian, meaning, Grandma Hassie's husband  Dee and his family. The Bannarn's. She followed that by telling me that if I wanted to know what she looked like, just look at my mother, because she was the spitting image of her. Same long black hair, same skin tone, same features..she looked just like her. Aunt Jewell, who was Hassie's daughter always told my mother the same thing. That she couldn't believe how much mom looked like her mother, Hassie. 

Lela Thompson Bannarn: Hassie's Sister.

Hassie was from Texas. According to her death certificate she was born in 1880 in Lonestar, Texas to parents Stephen Thompson and Alice Fuller. I have always been told that she was full blooded Creek Indian, however some say that she was also part Cherokee. The first census that I found Hassie in was the 1880 census for Cherokee county, Texas. She was five months old and is shown living with her parents, who were also from Texas. Her race is listed as Black.There is also another child shown living in the same house. Her name was Rosey. She was 3 months old, and also is listed as being the daughter of Steve and Alice. Her race is listed as white and according to this record, her mother was from Georgia and her father was from Alabama. Now I'm trying to figure out , who was Rosey? maybe she was a family member that they took in. It doesn't seem like she was the biological child of Steve and Alice. I've wondered if Rosey is one of the little girls in the picture. Being that they were close in age. It could be. If these are her siblings in the picture. Who are they? and what happened to them? At this point. I have found no information about Rosey or any other siblings besides  her sister. Lela. Lela married Dee Bannarn's brother John, and was part of the migration to Minnesota with the rest of the Bannarn family. 

I continue to search for Hassie, she's so interesting. I've traced her in the census from 1880-1940. I know that she was Indian. However, I've yet to find her listed as that. Always mulatto or black. There's still so much more to find. The search continues..






Denise 

© 2013 Denise Muhammad

Why I Blog: My Heart And Soul

Grandma Margaret and cousin Beanie

Thanks to Bernita Allen I was inspired to pen this blog. After reading her story about her grandma Edna. My grandmother instantly came to mind. Bernita's story, which was like reading a great book. Made me think about the beauty of family and why I blog about family history.

I am the last person that thought that I would ever be blogging. Especially since up until a few short months ago I didn't know exactly what a blog was. It wasn't until then that I realized that the stories that I grew up listening to were enough to fill the pages of a book. Genealogy has been my passion for many years. I thought that having a family tree on Ancestry.com was good enough. I've always made my tree public. Sharing my collection of names, dates, and a few pictures. Finding relatives along the way. What I never shared were the stories. These stories of my ancestors are what my grandma Margaret had shared with me all my life. They were wrapped up in the special private moments that we shared with one another. To many moments to count. Thanks to her, I had a personal story to go with the most of the names. Grandma knew something about everyone in the family. Relatives that I didn't know, those who were long gone. They lived through the stories that she told about them. She gave special details of what they looked like, their personality, what their life was like. So much information that since I've started blogging I sometimes don't know where to begin.


Through these stories she was sharing a piece of herself with me. The memories of her parents and her family were special to her and she wanted me to know.  I became fascinated with my grandma and everything about her. The stories of  my ancestors have been engrained in my mind and reside in my heart. I can still see us sitting at her small kitchen table..talking over a cup of tea. Even as an adult I would go spend the weekend with her at her home. I remember the last time that I was there. She insisted that I take the huge family picture book. I refused, knowing how special the pictures were to her. She insisted again, telling me that she wanted me to have them. She said that it was time and that I would know what to do with them. At the time she was 90 years old and I hadn't a clue of what she meant by saying that. I took the book and didn't ask her what she meant. I kept thinking to myself,  had I really asked her everything? What else could I ask her that she had not already told me. I tried hard to think of something..nothing else came to mind. It wasn't long before her life changed. I watched my feisty grandmother who was always sharp as a tack slip away. Her eyes no longer sparkled, their color had changed to a dark dull grey. She had become a victim of Dementia, and it had robbed her of her memories. She no longer recognized me as her granddaughter.

L. to R. Mom with her mother,Grandma Margaret and unknown cousin

Letting Go And Sharing The Story:
The day that I requested to join the new Facebook group AAGSAR (African American Genealogy & Slave Ancestry Research)  was a new beginning. Little did I know that becoming a member of this new group would change my genealogy research as I knew it. I thought it was like any other Facebook genealogy group. I quickly found out that was not true. This is a serious ancestor seeking, helping one another, working group. Thanks to Luckie Daniels and her gentle nudge..well, it was actually more like a big push. Always gently encouraging me to keep moving. I started a blog. In the beginning, it was very uncomfortable. I remember thinking that I have absolutely nothing to say, what would I blog about?  I felt like I needed "Blogging for Dummies". I was not a writer. I certainly was not prepared for this. Following the example of  the great bloggers of AAGSAR..I continued to work on my blog. There were so many beautiful blogs. Each one was amazing. In this group." Each one teach one" truly comes to life.

Everyone stands on the shoulders of those who came before. Someone always leads the way. When the student is ready, the teacher appears. I guess I was finally ready to share the stories and a blog was the platform that I needed. I am thankful that I was guided to AAGSAR and for it's creator, Luckie Daniels. With four blogs I would say that I have become a bit addicted to blogging. I still consider myself a newbie, always searching for the right words. Trying to find my way.

I blog because of family, for my grandmother, for the Ancestors who are leading the way. I know now that I must tell their story. It continues to be a journey of self discovery. I have learned that Blogging is truly good for the soul. I now understand why grandma wanted me to have the picture book. I know what she meant when she told me that I would know what to do. She knew what I didn't know.. This is what I was supposed to do. Share the story. She had given me everything that I needed. I just had to reach within myself.

Denise


© 2013 Denise Muhammad

Whispers In The Deep South: Many Rivers To Cross

Augustus & Viola Wooley (Woods) with their son Augustus Jr.

After viewing episode four of Many Rivers to Cross tonight, I just had to finish penning this blog post.  This episode made me think of my husband's family, my family. It's interesting that through marriage, families are intertwined.Your family becomes my family and so on and so forth..

My recent visits with my mother in law have been very interesting. They usually are. I asked her what life was like growing up in Alabama in the1950's. For many years I've heard stories about her parents, Augustus WOOLEY and Viola WOODS. I remember her father, my husband's Grandad, so many years ago. Unfortunately I never got to meet his grandmother, Viola. She passed away shortly before I came into the family. They were both from Alabama. The cities of Johns and Calera. Augustus left Birmingham in about 1956, moving his family to Minneapolis, MN. His father Berry WOOLEY had also left Birmingham and came to Minnesota earlier. With family still living in Birmingham and Jasper. He would drive the family from Minnesota to Birmingham, Alabama and back again to visit family, only stopping for gas. No stops to eat in those days. Viola cooked before they left home and brought the food with. Nearly a twenty hour drive back then. After viewing Many Rivers To Cross and hearing about the "Negro Motorist Green Book" I now understand why stops were few to none.

Augustus Wooley

I thought about my recent trip to Alabama to visit my husband's family. Which gave me some insight to what life must of been like for so many who came from the south. This was my first time visiting Alabama and I was excited to see where my husband's family had lived for generations as well as meet family. I had always wondered why his grandparents left Birmingham in the 1950's to come to Minnesota..the longer that I spent time in the south I began to get a better understanding of why they left.

Viola Woods Wooley

I visited the Tuskegee University Institute. Home of Booker T. Washington. I was so amazed by this man and his educational history. The red bricks. Wow, such a rich history. I was in awe as we passed by the massive cotton fields. Cotton as far back as my eyes could see. A sight that I've never seen before. I could see the ancestors in the field and hear their whispers. Something that gave me a slight chill. Alabama was the south, life was what it was. And you knew your place. Segregation. Plain and simple.White and Colored drinking fountains, Everything divided by color. Something that I've tried to imagine, but just couldn't seem to grasp. A  visit to the Civil Rights Museum  gave me a better understanding of segregation and so much more. I left thinking to myself, Why wouldn't you want to leave the south back then? I wiped a tear from my eye as we crossed the street to see the16th street Baptist Church. The church that was bombed  in 1963, four young girls died. Again, I felt a slight chill.
                                                                                                                                                                  

Arlington Antebellum Plantation-Birmingham, AL

 I was in awe as I viewed this beautiful yet enormous home, a plantation called Arlington. It sat, like a watch guard over the city, surrounded by small houses, our family lived only blocks away. I couldn't help but think of the enslaved ancestors who once lived on this plantation. I wondered  what happened to them after slavery ended. I could feel their presence. How could I be here in this place and not think of them and all that they endured. I wondered what their life was like, were my ancestors slaves here? I thought about it the rest of the day and night. Slavery, a reality that was everyday life. I felt a strange chill..cold. This visit was bitter sweet.

"Lifting The Veil"  Monument at Tuskegee University

Denise

© 2013 Denise Muhammad

My FOWLER Line: An Angel In The Act Of Genealogical Kindness

Grandma Luella 1910-1991

I have learned that helping fellow genealogists is a great part of Genealogy research. Where would we be without the helping hand of others. This story is just one of many....

My relationship with my paternal grandmother Luella Evandle FOWLER was different than most. Because I never once met her. Something that I never fully understood. Growing up, my sisters and I only knew her through  phone calls and letters. Mom would call her and put us on the phone. She would always talk to us about our father, her son. She would tell us that he loved us girls in spite of his absence in our lives and that we should always be sweet to our mother. Looking back, I am thankful for the many conversations that I did have with her. However, it was one conversation that gave me the pieces to this family puzzle and started me on my journey. At sixteen, my habit of writing everything down was just beginning. I still have the notebook that I took notes in during our conversation all those years ago. I guess that being a "Pack Rat" has it's benefits.. Little did I know that this would be the last time that we spoke.

I remember our conversation like it was yesterday. She started by telling me when she was born, November 5, 1910 to James Fowler and Barbara Christine CONNWAY.  She married Ollie Taylor, her first husband about 1926. She married her second husband Paul C. Pryor, in the 1930's. Her family was from Missouri. Most lived in Frankilin county. The towns of Washington, South Point, Pacific. Also, Boonville and Webster Groves. Her siblings were; Golden, Lawrence, Hazel, Charles, Sadie, Archie, Barney and Frankie. She told me that her maternal grandmother was a slave. Her name was Mariah CONNWAY and even though she looked like a white woman she was still sold into slavery. Mariah's mother was an enslaved woman named Myra HALL. Myra was born about 1807, some records say Kentucky and some Virginia. She is thought to have been owned by a German slaveholder in Missouri. Like her daughter, Mariah, she also was very fair and looked white. Grandma Luella continued to give me more information, telling me about the day my father was born..in a little shack of a log cabin along side of the Missouri river in Washington..all I could say was Wow!

I was amazed as I later found that my grandmother's family stayed in the same location generation after generation. The only ancestors in my entire family on all sides that stayed in the same area after years after slavery ended. They never left. I have located most of them in Franklin county records from 1870-1940.


Melanie: An Angel in Genealogical Kindness      

I few years ago I posted a message to the message boards. I had found many death records on the Missouri Digital Heritage  website, an absolutely wonderful site for Missouri research. I was curious to find out more about the location of the cemetery's and my relatives. Called Washington and Old City Cemetery. I received an email from a woman asking me if I was sure about the name of this cemetery. After my reply, She offered to search for cemetery records. I was surprised and very grateful for her kind offer.

The next day she emailed me back with not one, not two, but a whole list of names. I recognized the names. Many were my grandmother's family. I was floored when she told that she would search the cemetery over the weekend and try to find their grave sites. WHAT! did I read this right? I thought to myself..okay, surely she charges a fee for her research services. When I asked her, She replied "No" and said that she would be in that area and that it wasn't far from her. The next email a day or two later provided me with more than I expected. Not only did she walk the cemetery, finding that there was not one single relative that had a headstone, she went to the county office and found obituaries, Birth, death and marriage announcements. I thought to myself, this woman must be a relative of mine. Who would do that? spend their whole weekend searching for a family that's not theirs. Her final emails contained maps of South Point, Missouri with links to other websites.

I never did find out who Melanie was. If she was a  relative, or just a kind woman who wanted to help me. I truly appreciate her time and her sacrifice to find these gems of information. This was an act of Genealogical Kindness that I will be sure to pay forward.

My great-Grandfather, James Fowler

My 2x Great-Grandfather James Fowler Sr.

Denise


© 2013 Denise Muhammad

My Grandma Mary: The Evangelist

This blog post was written for The 5th edition Carnival of African American Genealogy REBIRTH: (CoAAG)  Hosted by Luckie Daniels of  Our Georgia Roots and Our Alabama Roots

Mary B. Doyle 1886-1966

There are many church memories that I could blog about, however when I think about Church memories relating to an ancestor. My Great-Grandmother comes to mind. She is pictured here in her robe, bible in hand.

Growing up I've always been told about my maternal Great-Grandmother, Mary Belle CARR DOYLE. Although I have no memory of her, my mother and grandmother talked about her so often, I've often wished that I did. I've always admired her strength and courage, which spoke volumes to me in all the stories that I've been told about her. Known for her quick "Hot temper". She was the feisty patriarch of our family. My Grandma would chuckle as she told me that her mother Mary was the one who gave out all the whippins' when she and her siblings were children. She followed that by saying..."My poor father". She was born 1886 in Lynchburg, Virginia. If you were in Grandma Mary's house, you better believe that come Sunday you were going to church. No doubt about it! You could also expect to attend the church revivals. My mother  was very close with her grandma and loved going to church with her. After church, the family gathered for Sunday dinner. Mom say's that Grandma Mary made the best Lemonade in the world! The family attended Bethel AME Church in Des Moines, Iowa for many years. The church is still there and many family members still attend today.

Mary B. Carr Doyle-1920's

Grandma Mary was an Evangelist and was very well known in the community. She preached the word in her home church and also traveled all over. She often visited the sick and shut in. Many day's you could find her at the local prisons, where she also preached. My mother said that she often stayed up half the night praying, and remembers her sitting in her chair praying and rocking. Grandma Mary laid a spiritual foundation of faith and family in her children that has been passed down to theirs.





Denise

© 2013 Denise Muhammad

The Skin That I'm In

Margaret Doyle

I have been thinking about this blog topic for days. Trying to decide if I should share more of my grandmother's story. Athough genealogy does bring pain, my intent is never to hurt anyone's feelings. However, this story, like all the other's was a part of her and I think that she would want me to share..

When my maternal Grandmother passed away nearly three years ago at the age of 94. My family came together as families do. At her memorial gathering each of us grandchildren stepped up to share kind words about her. She was the only grandmother that we knew growing up. When my brother spoke about her, he started out by saying " I never knew that my grandma was white". It was then that I realized that even in our family many did not know about her Identity. I just assumed that we all knew.   I realized that her history needed to be shared with everyone. Although she identified herself as being black or "Negro" as she would say. She did look white and could have easily passed for that if she wanted to. Growing up, we didn't see the color of her skin. She was just Grandma. We were crazy about her and she was always, always there.

My Grandparents: Anthony Bannarn and Margaret Doyle

She came from a mixed race family. Her father Peter DOYLE was Native American and Irish. Having red hair and blue eyes he looked more white than anything. Her mother, Mary Belle CARR was black, Indian and German. She had eight siblings, out of which two of her brothers were darker in color than the rest. That in itself caused racial issues between the siblings.

Out of the many talks that we had over the years. The one thing that she never talked about was the color of her skin. I wondered if she had ever passed for white. I always sensed that it was a touchy subject for her and although I was curious I could never bring myself to ask her. It wasn't until she was almost 90 years old that she finally shared her story with me. As she started talking I noticed the far away look in her eyes. It seemed as if she was no longer in the room..she had traveled back in time to share her story with me. Her pain was so obvious.



Her Story:

Siblings: Margaret and Robert Leonard Doyle

Growing up in Iowa in the 1920's and Great depression era of the 1930's..life was not easy. Most people thought that her father was a white man with a black wife. It was a time when they didn't ask you what you were. The color of your skin spoke first. Her father; the son of a slave, knew first hand about the struggle that his white looking children faced. He told her to marry into the black race because the white race would never accept her. While her brother Bill struggled with his identity, being darker than his fair skinned siblings..her sister Rose passed for white to get jobs in the rich neighborhoods of Iowa. Swearing her siblings to secrecy, she told them that should they see her to just act like they didn't know her. She talked about how prejudice Des Moines, Iowa was and all the racial slurs her family suffered.The Klu Klux Klan was a real and active force in many Iowa towns. They burned a cross on her family's front lawn in the 1920's. After she married my grandfather, Anthony BANNARN and moved to Minnesota. She still faced discrimination. As the country went into WWII she went to work to help take care of her family. She would get hired for jobs. They never asked about her race, and she never told them. All was fine until they found out that she was colored, and then she was fired. This happened many times.

I loved her even more for sharing her uncomfortable memories with me. I understood so much more about who she was. She had answered all the things that I was curious about but could never bring myself to ask her. She knew me as her quiet  granddaughter, forever asking questions about the family. She also knew that I wanted to know all that there was to know about her and her ancestors.. maybe that's why she finally shared her story with me.
 

Grandma holding my sister, me and my brothers  - 1965

Denise



© 2013 Denise Muhammad