The Courtship of Ick and Jez

She called him Ick…short for Ichabod Crane because he was so skinny.  He called her Jez…short for Jezebel, the evil queen from the Bible because, well, he would have to answer that.  Stamps, pen and paper, funny quips, warm fuzzies, and the occasional light jab all came together in over 400 letters written from 1948 to 1956 between Ray Hinson and Anna Claire Guice.

It was the summer of 1948 down at the old schoolhouse camp in Clermont Harbor, MS when Ray saw Anna Claire and her sister Carol Lee for the first time.  (She said he was staring at her.)

“Ick”

“Jez”

Ray lived in Lakeshore, a community a few miles down the beach road.  Anna Claire’s mother and step-father had just purchased the old schoolhouse in Clermont Harbor to use as a summer beach house.  The girls and their mom would stay all summer while their step-father would come to the camp after work on the weekends from Baton Rouge.

…from Anna Claire’s high school photo album

At first Anna Claire didn’t pay Ray any mind. At least she didn’t show it.  She was almost 15 and he was 17. But as the summer progressed they became good friends.  When the summer was over, they went back to their regular lives of high school for her and junior college for him.  They kept in touch by letter throughout the year and when summer came again, they picked up their relationship where they left off.  During each school year she dated other guys in Baton Rouge and he dated other girls at college in Poplarville, MS all the while keeping in touch by letter throughout the year.

But one year while she attended Louisiana State University, she met and dated a fellow who asked for her hand in marriage .  He offered her a ring, but she said no, that God had other plans for her.

The next summer Ray and Anna Claire’s relationship warmed up considerably.  But Ray entered the army for three years where he would be stationed in Germany.  He and Anna Claire continued as they always had…keeping in touch by letter.  When Ray was given leave to go home one Christmas, he brought with him an engagement ring wrapped in tissue that was slipped onto his dog tag chain for safe-keeping.  She accepted his marriage proposal. (Anna Claire said that with everyone else she dated she would always compare them with Ray.)

After he returned from his service in the Army he began LSU and she began planning a wedding.  They would be married on August 17, 1956 at North Highlands Baptist Church in Baton Rouge, LA.  This union brought forth four children — two daughters and two sons, who in turn gave them fourteen grand-children and five great-grandchildren. Nearly all of them spent many summer days on the beach in Clermont Harbor and more memories were made at the old schoolhouse camp where Ray and Anna Claire met.  (The camp had been dubbed by their children as the “Choo-Choo Train House” because it was so near the railroad tracks).

The courtship and 53-year marriage of Ray and Anna Claire was unique and blessed.  Until their last Christmas together in 2009, their gifts to each other were signed “Ick” and “Jez.”

Ray and Anna Claire are my parents.

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Bonfires on the Bayou – An Acadian Reunion

Rosalie Prejean Pecot

Rosalie shifted her weight on the stiff barge seat next to her sister Nathalie as they floated up the bayou.  The two grey-haired ladies were looking around each bend with anticipation as the boat made its way up Bayou Teche.  The sun had set on this beautiful fall evening and the trees on either side of them appeared as dark silhouettes against the deep orange sky.  The banks of the little river blended with the water into one dark mass ahead of them.  The lantern at the front of the barge was able to light only what was directly ahead.

The two sisters’ excitement was almost more than they could contain. Here they were with their families making their way to a reunion that they never dreamed would occur. It had been almost 50 years since they had last seen their other two sisters.

They had been separated in the Grand Dérangement of 1755 when the French were expelled from Acadia in Canada by the British.  Families were separated from each other as they were herded onto ships that would take them to places they did not choose to go.

Many of the banished Acadians eventually found themselves in Saint-Domingue which is present-day Haiti and Dominican Republic.  Some made their way to France which one might think would be a welcome destination for the exiles, since Acadians were of French origin. But the French settled Acadia more than one hundred forty years before the Derangement.  The only thing the Acadians had in common with the people of France was their language.

Still other exiled Acadians were taken to Louisiana to settle in the lowland marsh and fertile plain areas of the south central area.  All would face hardships trying to recreate life in places so far away and so culturally different from where they had lived for generations.

For Rosalie and Nathalie the dream of ever seeing the rest of their family had been unimaginable.  Would they even recognize their sisters after so many years had passed? The amazing series of events that occurred only months earlier set into motion this incredible reunion.

Rosalie’s family had recently arrived in New Orleans coming from Jamaica.  They had moved to Jamaica to escape the French Revolution-inspired slave revolt in Saint-Domingue in the 1790′s.  After several years there they had to leave their home again and were able to get passage on a ship to New Orleans. Once in New Orleans, Rosalie’s son began preparations to become a schoolmaster. During that time he by chance met Mr. Alexandre Frere who was himself a schoolmaster.

Alexandre Frere

Mr. Frere was a private tutor for the household of the Pellerin family in Charenton, Louisiana, which is located on Bayou Teche in St. Mary Parish west of New Orleans. Gregoire Pellerin and his wife Cecile Prejean Pellerin were themselves exiled from Acadia in 1755. Mrs. Pellerin’s sister Marguerite Prejean Duhon, also resided at the Pellerin plantation.

As Rosalie’s son related his experiences and family stories to the older schoolmaster, Mr. Frere began to realize that the young man’s mother and aunt were in fact the sisters of his employer’s wife, Cecile Pellerin and her sister Maguerite Duhon!  Mr. Frere was immediately compelled to arrange for all of them to be reunited as soon as possible.

But nothing could have prepared the sisters for the dramatic spectacle that lay ahead. As Rosalie and Nathalie rounded a bend on Bayou Teche they could see up ahead bonfires lining each bank.  The glow of the fires lit up the sky! And people — throngs of people — were lining the bayou displaying as much excitement as the sisters possessed themselves!

As the barge drew near the dock, Mr. Pellerin was there to greet them and take them up to the plantation home where the reunion of the sisters would take place.  Mr. Frere and Mr. Pellerin helped Rosalie and Nathalie and their families into caleches – small, hooded, two-wheeled carriages — and off they went.

Once at the home, as the sisters finally saw one another, they fell into each others arms shedding tears of joy and exclaiming cries of elation. Nearly everyone from the lower Teche region witnessed the touching reunion of the four sisters who had endured incredible suffering and injustices over their long lives, but now were able to behold each other once again.

Among those in the joyful assembly were members of the local Chitimacha tribe and their chief.  It was they who built the large bonfires that lit the skies on that very special night. (To find out more about the Chitimachas go to http://www.chitimacha.gov/tribal_about_history.htm )

One of the sisters, Rosalie Prejean Pecot, is my fifth great-grandmother. Several years after her death in 1813, her daughter Marie Louise Pecot married Alexandre Frere — the man responsible for bringing the four sisters together. They are my fourth great-grandparents.  It is their son, Adrien Frere, my great, great, great-grandfather who was later killed in the Last Island Hurricane of 1856. (See “Of Plantations and Hurricanes” on this blog.)

(For more information about the Acadians’ heritage and culture visit http://www.acadianmemorial.org/.  The two paintings by Ms. De Boisblanc are found in the book String of Pearls and are used by permission from the Acadian Memorial in St. Martinville, LA.)

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“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.”

Dressed in his formal evening attire complete with top hat and cane, Jasper Strong stepped out of the carriage and offered his hand to his wife Eliza Julia who was elaborately dressed in her evening gown.  It shimmered in the lamp light as she descended from the carriage. Tonight they were attending a performance in Florence, Italy on the last evening of their European vacation. They had thoroughly enjoyed their time together and this was a perfect highlight with which to complete their holiday. The theater was a beautiful example of historic architecture for which Florence is famous.

The Strongs made their way through the ornate lobby and soon found their theater box entrance. As Eliza Julia and Jasper entered, a man rose to greet them as his wife remained seated.

“Good evening,” said the gentlemen extending his gloved hand.

“Good evening,” replied Jasper shaking the gentlemen’s hand.

“This is my wife Elizabeth Browning and I am Robert Browning.”

“How do you do?” responded Jasper. “This is my wife Eliza Julia Strong and I am Jasper Strong.”

The couple in the theater box was none other than Robert and Elizabeth Barrett Browning — two of the most acclaimed poets of the Victorian era.  Although they were British subjects, the Brownings made their home in Florence, Italy due to the fragile health of Elizabeth. Mrs. Browning was at the height of her fame at the time of the Strong’s meeting. She was in the process of writing one of her most ambitious works, Aurora Leigh — a nine-part poetic novel.  It would be completed and published in 1857.  Her poetry was critically acclaimed in both England and the United States.  Robert Browning at this time was not as widely read as his wife, but his acclaim would come later.  They had only been married a few years at the Strong’s meeting and their son, Robert Barrett Browning, was just a few years old.

Before the performance, the two couples conversed about the Strong’s holiday in Europe and how they were from the balmy state of Florida.  They also discussed the tumultuous political rumblings going on in the United States indicating the possiblity of the southern states seceding from the Union. If this happened Jasper interjected, then they would plan to move back to Jasper’s home state of Vermont. Elizabeth Barrett Browning was also inclined to an interest in political “rumblings.”  Her poem Casa Guidi Windows was itself an ode to Florence and its vie for independence.  The Strongs inquired about her poetry and how wonderful it must be to live in Florence.

Many of Elizabeth’s works are beloved, but perhaps her most famous work was the poem, Sonnett 43 (How Do I Love Thee?)

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, — I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! — and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

As their conversation continued, Mr. Browning became fascinated with the resemblance of his wife Elizabeth and Eliza Julia.  Through this chance meeting the two couples evidently became friends, for a few years later in 1861, Mr. Browning would write to the Strongs back in New England letting them know of the death of Elizabeth.  He also wrote that he and his son would be moving from their beloved Florence back to London.

Eliza Julia Strong

This letter from Robert Browning was given to Charles Matthew Strong by his father Jasper.  Charles would relate this “vignette” to his children, showing them the letter.  The address on the letter always amused Charles –

 “Esq. & Mrs. J. Strong, Quechee, New England, America”

Jasper and Eliza Strong are my third great-grandparents.

(This story was discovered in a written oral history of Louise Christine Frere Strong, wife of Charles Matthew Strong.  The oral history was transcribed by her daughter, Eliza Julia Strong Hymel (Bessie) and compiled by Louise and Charles’ grandaughter, Beatrice Elizabeth Hymel.  A copy of this handwritten transcription is found at the Hancock County Historical Society in Bay St. Louis, Mississippi.)

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Pilgrim Swept Overboard!

“I’ve got to go topside to fill my lungs with some fresh air,” thought agitated John Howland to himself as he began to climb the ship’s ladder up to the main deck. Water sloshed around his ankles and storm tossed waves splashed down on him from the hatch above. The Mayflower rocked back and forth and pitched side to side bobbing like a cork in the storm.  The fierce October tempest would eventually throw the ship far off course from its intended destination in the Virginia colony.

The other passengers shouted at John over the loud creaking of the Mayflower’s wooden frame as the ship rocked with every passing wave. ”Don’t go up there, John!  We’ve been ordered to stay below until this terrible storm has passed!” The ship’s hold was filled with passengers as well as the stench that permeated everything in their close quarters.

“This storm has been raging for weeks! I’m going to take a look,” his shouts drowned out by the roar of the waves crashing above. “Don’t worry!”

John and most of the other passengers were en route from England to America to start a new life where they would not be persecuted for practicing Christianity the way they believed they should.  England and all of Europe had been going through tumultuous times since the beginning of the Reformation.  Catholic or Protestant?  The decision for England to embrace one or the other swayed back and forth almost as much as the Mayflower did during this storm.  Even when England was Protestant, as it was at the time of the Pilgrims in 1620, it was not Protestant enough for this group of Christians.

As John climbed the ladder and opened the hatch, water poured down on him and drenched every stitch of clothing on his body.  The wind and spray of the sea swirled around him as he came on deck.  The rocking of the ship caused him to stumble, slip, and slide.  He quickly grabbed a sail that had been furled because of the storm.

Pilgrim John Howland overboard – Illustration by H.B. Vestal – 1966

A crew member barked out an order for him to get below deck, but just as John turned around to look at him a monstrous wave crashed onto the deck.  The force of the water swept John overboard out into the watery depths.  As he slipped under the water he felt something next to him. He latched on to it as his head came above the surface and then dunked back underneath.  He had grabbed hold of the ship’s halyard!  He was hanging on for dear life!  The crewmen quickly grabbed the rope and pulled him back into the boat.  Wet, water-logged, and shaken, John Howland went back below deck, but he was thankful that he had been miraculously rescued!

William Bradford, in the only primary source account of the Mayflower voyage, writes of the experience:

“In sundry of these storms the winds were so fierce, and the seas so high, as they could not bear a knot of sail, but were forced to hull, for divers days together. And in one of them, as they thus lay at hull, in a mighty storm, a lusty young man (called John Howland) coming upon some occasion above the gratings, was, with a seele of the ship thrown into the sea; but it pleased God that he caught hold of the topsail halyards, which hung overboard, and ran out at length; yet he held his hold (though he was sundry fathoms under water) till he was hauled up by the same rope to the brim of the water, and then with a boat hook and other means got into the ship again, and his life saved; and though he was something ill with it, yet he lived many years after, and became a profitable member both in church and commonwealth.”

This Thanksgiving I have one more reason to be thankful — thankful that John Howland caught hold of that topsail halyard!  John Howland is my 10th great-grandfather, a Plymouth Pilgrim, and a signer of the Mayflower Compact.   (www.pilgrimhall.org/compact.htm)

John Howland’s signature on the Mayflower Compact

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The Fort Builder

Second Lieutenent Jasper Strong stood nearby as the mid-summer sun blazed down on the dark, uniformed backs of the soldiers. They hauled bricks from the stockpile across the sandy, swampy ground to the site of the new fort being built at the Rigolets pass near New Orleans, LA. The fort was one of a string of forts that were being built along the coasts of the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic Ocean.

The former wooden fort at the site was known as La Petite Coquille. It was used briefly during the War of 1812 by Andrew Jackson’s troops in the Battle of New Orleans to defend the narrow inlet leading from the Gulf into Lake Ponchartrain thus preventing the British from making a backdoor attack on New Orleans.  But the fort was being replaced by a stronger, more formidable brick structure to prevent re-invasion by the British or any other foe.

The year was 1819. Three years earlier President Madison and Congress had appropriated funds for a seacoast defense system that would organize the planning, design, and construction of a string of brick fortresses at as many as 50 sites to help the country be less vulnerable to attack than it had been with the British only a few years earlier.

Jasper Strong and his friend Frederick Underhill, two recent graduates of the United States Military Academy at West Point, were beginning their military careers in the humid and swampy coastal south far from their homes in Vermont and New York. Strong and Underhill were 16 years old when they entered the Academy in 1814 while the War of 1812 was still being fought.

Underhill, graduating second in his class, received his commission as an Assistant Engineer with the Corps of Engineers.  He began his duties in Pass Christian on the Gulf Coast to help with the repair and construction of the southern defenses. Strong was garrisoned at the New Orleans’ fort (later renamed Fort Pike) during its construction, but recognizing  he had a knack for business and salesmanship, the army sent him away on recruiting service.  But within several months he was transferred to Baton Rouge to serve in the headquarters of the 1st Infantry.  The Pentagon Barracks that are still in use today were being constructed while he was stationed there.

Jasper stayed in touch with his engineer friend Frederick in Pass Christian while stationed at Baton Rouge. After a couple of years and much discussion, they decided that with Frederick’s engineering ability and Jasper’s penchant for business they could help the effort more and do better for themselves if they privately contracted to build forts. So in 1823 Strong and Underhill resigned their commissions with the Army and went to work contracting for the Army as a company called Underhill and Firm.  They soon went to work for the Corp of Engineers Superintending Engineer William  H. Chase who was also a former West Point classmate.  Their firm contracted to supply labor that would work on Fort Pike at the Rigolets and Fort Jackson on the Mississippi River below New Orleans.

In 1828, William Chase was transferred to Pensacola to supervise the construction of a new fort on Santa Rosa Island that would defend the new Navy Yard being constructed on Pensacola Bay. Chase made the decision to contract with Underhill and Strong because of the large labor force of black mechanics they had at their disposal.  Most of the mechanics were middle-aged slaves, yet they were paid $1.50 a day for their work.

But within the first year of construction of the new Fort Pickens, Frederick Underhill died.  This left Jasper Strong in a precarious situation.  He decided to go into business with John Hunt as J. Hunt and Firm.  They bought property for a brick-making business near Pensacola to help provide the millions of bricks needed for the fort’s construction. Other companies joined in competition and soon there was a surplus of three million bricks in the navy yard.

William Chase then requested more funds to build another fort across the mouth of Pensacola Bay from Fort Pickens called Fort McRee. Soon after the completion of that fort, Chase wanted additional funds to construct a new fort near the navy yard on the site of an old Spanish fort called Fort Barrancas. Chase would continue to use Strong’s workforce to help build other forts from New Orleans to Key West during the years leading up to the Civil War.

Some time after the death of Jasper’s friend Frederick Underhill, Jasper married Underhill’s widow, Mentoria Nixon, daughter of Gen. George Henry Nixon of Pearlington, MS, and they made their home in Pensacola.  But not long after their marriage, the former Mrs. Underhill died. In time, Jasper began courting her sister Eliza Julia Nixon, 24 years his junior, and soon they were married.  They would have six children together.

As the Civil War commenced in 1861, Jasper and Eliza moved north to his boyhood home in Hartford, Vermont to escape the scourge of war that would surely come to the South. But Jasper would never make it back down to Pensacola.  He died shortly after the close of the war in November of 1865. Eliza, being from the coastal south, moved back there after Jasper’s death. She is buried in Pearlington, MS near the graves of her parents, Gen. George Henry Nixon and Rebecca Bracey Nixon.

Jasper and Eliza are my great-great-great grandparents. Their son, Charles Matthew Strong is my great-great grandfather from Bay St. Louis, MS whose story is told in the post “Two Worlds Meet On Stage.”

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The Find

I have had innumerable “oh wow” discoveries in my genealogical explorations over the years.  Many of those moments resulted in some pretty incredible stories. But not many of them resulted in the “Oh wow, you’ve got to be kidding me!” moment like I had recently.

I was gathering items for a story I was writing for this blog.  The branch of the family on which I was working had come to America very early on and had landed in Plymouth colony.  But these family members came at least 15 years later than the Pilgrims.  I was content knowing that the members of this branch of my family were “almost” Pilgrims.

Yet while I was collecting illustrations for my story, I came across photos I had taken of an old 18th century Vermont cemetery that I had visited several years ago.  The photos reminded me that I had never tried to research that side of the family’s grandmother who was buried there — Mary “Polly” Bacon who married Benajah Strong.  (Genealogists, don’t forget your grandmothers.  If you tend to get focused on family surnames,don’t forget to research the grandmother’s surname. Some of my most interesting stories have been found by turning down the path of my grandmothers.)

I researched her and my grandfather’s names and found a genealogical record that took her line back five generations!  That was awesome enough in itself — until I began working my way backward through the generations.

Each successive generation gave me more clues about my family.  As expected they all lived in the New England area.   But then I came across town names in which I was unfamiliar —  Barnstable and Yarmouth in Massachusetts.  I looked them up on a current map and found both towns were located on Cape Cod. The families were living in these towns in the mid 1600′s. That’s even a closer connection to Pilgrims than the family members about whom I already knew.

Then I went back to my research.  I looked at the fifth generation back from my grandmother and my heart gave a jolt! The word “Mayflower” jumped off the page at me.  I looked again to double check. Yes, that’s what it said! I looked further and the amount of information on this man was boggling — in genealogical terms when all one may normally uncover is a death date!

Did my eyes deceive me?  Was one of my grandfathers really a Pilgrim?  Yes, he was.  His name was John Howland.  He was not just any Pilgrim, but the one who fell overboard during a storm and was miraculously recovered.  (More about him in a future post.)

I sat there in my chair dumbfounded.  I felt like I had just opened a treasure chest and found it full of gold.   A Pilgrim.   A Mayflower Compact-signing, Thanksgiving Day Pilgrim.  The same Pilgrims everyone reads about in elementary school history.

I can’t believe it.  What a find!  I am not “almost” a Pilgrim.  I AM a Pilgrim!

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Blonde Hair and Bootleggers

“Veronica! VERONICA!” shouted the coarse, angry voice.  ”What are you still doing asleep?  Don’t you know it’s time to get out on the porch? Now get out there and drum us up some business!”

Twelve-year-old Veronica Strong, or Sis as she was called by her younger siblings, got up quickly and rushed to the bathroom, splashed water on her face, put on her wispy dress, quickly brushed her bleached-blonde hair and ran outside.

She hated her hair. It was really jet black just like her mother’s, but her grandmother Agnes made her bleach it. Agnes said black hair didn’t lure men in to buy moonshine whiskey.  To act as a “come on” Veronica’s hair had to be blonde.

It was 1926 and prohibition was in full swing in Bay St. Louis with secret stills operating for profit all around Mississippi — especially on the coast. Mississippians consumed large amounts of alcohol and they had plenty of suppliers.

This state had been dry since 1906 and the bootleggers liked it that way.  It kept competition at bay.  Each time a vote came up in Mississippi, the “dry” people would vote to stay “dry” and the “wet” people would vote to stay “dry” as well. It was good for business.  Even many of the local law officers were looking the other way and taking bribes from bootleggers to stay quiet. Mississippi stayed dry until 1966.

When Tennessee voted to repeal prohibition in 1933 with blue laws still intact for the prohibition of selling liquor on Sunday, it was said that after that vote Mississippi and Tennessee were no different except that Mississippians could still buy liquor on Sunday!

Willie Strong

Veronica’s father Willie Strong, and her grandparents Agnes and Oscar Luc, ran competing bootleg operations in Bay St. Louis, MS.  There was also an operation on Cat Island off the coast of Long Beach, MS and one in Kiln, MS. In addition to these and other stills, ships carrying whiskey would anchor just outside U.S. waters off the coast and smaller boats would load up with liquor.  They would make the twelve-mile haul to the coast to distribute it.  These smaller boats were called “rum runners” and many of the fishermen in the area could run whiskey more profitably than hauling fish.

Cora Agnes Luc

Earlier in 1926 Veronica’s mother, Cora Agnes Luc Strong, died suddenly at the age of 32. Cora had been a good mother to her children — even while living in a tumultuous marriage with Willie Strong.  Before she died, she was taken away on a train to a hospital in New Orleans. Cora’s last words to her husband were to keep their eight kids together.  But that didn’t happen.

Some of the children’s aunts took them in for a while, but Willie eventually put the girls in St. Mary’s orphanage up in Natchez, MS and the boys in another orphanage near Natchez — except Veronica and her older brother Harold. He was put to work on the boats and Veronica was sent to live with her grandparents, the bootleggers. Her other more upstanding grandparents had died years earlier.

The children had terrible memories of their life in the orphanage.  For punishment they would have to kneel on wood chips, or the nuns would beat their palms with a long ruler until the children’s hands bled. If they wet their bed, the Sisters would make them hold their sheets out the window until they dried.  In stark contrast to Cora’s wishes, the younger sisters were only able to see their brothers one Sunday each month.

Agnes Rhodes Luc

Agnes Luc, Veronica’s grandmother, is remembered by her grandchildren as a hateful and selfish woman.  She seemed to live up to her reputation with an act like sacrificing the innocence of her grandchild to sell her own whiskey.  It seems that when the other children were not in the orphanage, Agnes used them for her benefit as well.

Recollections of one grandchild, Pearl, was that her grandparents stored their moonshine in a spot accessible through a trap door hidden by a rug on the floor. When they needed a bottle they would send her down to get one. One time she had to haul a jug of whiskey down a ditch that led to the beach for her grandfather to drink.  Another time during the depression when the kids were nearly starving, Oscar gave Sis a bag of red beans and a bag of rice for her and her siblings, but Agnes saw her with them and poured them back into her larger sacks.  ”I’m not feeding Willie Strong’s kids,” she said.

Another tale was told of Willie Strong.  Because of an altercation with another bootlegging operation on Cat Island, Willie reported them to the “revenuers.” At one point in the events that followed, shots rang out and Willie was caught in the crossfire.  It is said that he went to his grave in 1969 with buckshot still in his neck.

Rufus Hinson

Veronica Strong

But by 1931, at age 17, Veronica was rescued from her miserable life.  She met a gentle man, Rufus Hinson, from the piney woods of southeast Louisiana who had come to the Mississippi Coast to find work during the depression.   They soon married and he took her back to his family’s home place near Holden, LA where they set up housekeeping in a cabin he built.  The next year Veronica gave birth to their first child, Marion Ray Hinson.

They would eventually move back to the Mississippi Coast. Twelve years after their son was born, they had another child, Sandra Gail Hinson. Rufus and Veronica would live in coastal Mississippi for the rest of their 50 year marriage.

Whatever may have happened to Veronica as a child, she did not let it make her bitter later in life. She was a gentle woman, a wonderful cook, and a devoted Christian.

Veronica was my grandmother.  Her son, Marion Ray Hinson, is my father.

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Terre Blanche à la Terre Rouge (White Earth to Red Earth)

Newlyweds Marguerite and Pierre Le Houx loaded their personal belongings on board the boat docked in La Nouvelle-Orleans (New Orleans). Yesterday, the 12th of March 1725, they were married in the little wooden church, on the site of where St. Louis Cathedral would one day stand. But today 29-year-old Pierre would be taking his new bride back with him to the Arkansas Post on the Arkansas River where he was keeper of the Post warehouse.

Marguerite would be leaving her family behind in New Orleans where her father, Jean Baptiste Larmusiau, was the surgeon to the colonial Louisiana governor Jean-Baptiste Le Moyne de Bienville. It seemed like only yesterday that her family arrived  in New Orleans from France on the ship L’Elephant. But that was in 1720 when she was only eight years old. Now she was 13 and newly married!

The trip upriver was slow against the strong Mississippi River current.  After a couple of weeks of travel they arrived at the settlement.  Pierre and Marguerite lived at the Arkansas Post for a short while when they decided to move with some other settlers down the Mississippi to the Terre Blanche (White Earth) settlement at Fort Rosalie near the Natchez Grand Village.

Fort Rosalie had been built by Bienville as a French outpost in 1716, to thwart any designs on this area by the British. More settlers were needed to establish this region as a strong French colony in La Louisiane and Pierre and Marguerite were adding to their number. Pierre would be an excellent interpreter for them since he had experience living with tribal people at the Post.

Fort Rosalie, named after the wife of Count Ponchartrain, sat high on a bluff overlooking the Mississippi River.  The fort itself was small and, from what Marguerite could tell, did not look very defensible. In fact it did not appear to have been completed.  Not one of the palisades was connected to another so anyone could walk into the fort at will. But everyone seemed to be satisfied with the way of life at Fort Rosalie. Marguerite did worry a little about living there because of the attack on the fort made by the Natchez tribe a few years earlier, but the soldiers and the large number of settlers made her feel more secure.  From her observations, the settlement was becoming a full-fledged town.  There were merchants, craftsmen, farmers, a priest, soldiers for peacekeeping and defense, and children running around everywhere.

Over the following weeks, Pierre and the men at the fort helped him and Marguerite build a small cabin that they could call their own and he also set up a store selling supplies near the fort.  Marguerite was making friends with the women there too.  They showed her how to cook on an open fire and how to forage for the proper berries in the woods. She enjoyed her friendship with Marie Francienne Minquetz Cantrelle, a midwife, and helped her from time to time to deliver babies.  Francienne had also lived at the Arkansas Post with her husband Jacques.  In fact they arrived in New Orleans the same year as Marguerite and her family.

Marguerite and Pierre thrived in their new life at Terre Blanche and it wasn’t long before they had their first child.  Soon afterward, they were expecting again. Francienne had been such a help to her during her pregnancies and deliveries. Everyone had a job in the new settlement and it took everyone’s skills to make the colony successful, but everyone was relying on the French government for military defense and a system of justice.

The Terre Blanche settlement was governed by the French Commandant.  He was in charge of peace-keeping and defense of the colony.  He and the soldiers were to defend the fort against the  British who were wanting to lay claim to this area on the Mississippi and also against the ever-present threat of native tribes in the area.  The nearby Natchez tribe generally had good relations with the French ever since La Salle explored the region in 1682, but animosities increased with the building of Fort Rosalie.

Also the British and French were in constant conflict over land in North America during this time, so the British were continuously instigating some factions of the Natchez against the French. However the Great Sun, who was the leader of the Natchez, was loyal to the French. So diplomacy was a necessary attribute of any commandant of Fort Rosalie.

But a new commandant named Monsieur Chepart was sent to the Fort in 1728. Chepart was not known for his tact, especially with the Natchez people.  He decided that the Natchez people would have to move from their land so that he could build a plantation where some of their village was located. Chepart was quite adamant about it.  Obviously tensions increased and old animosities were revived.  To add to the precarious nature of the situation, the Great Sun, the most loyal French ally, died that year. The British were said to have seized this opportunity to encourage the Natchez to make a full-scale attack on the Fort and the Terre Blanche settlement.

On November 28, 1729, the Natchez entered the Fort and approached each home in the settlement under the guise of conducting business with the townspeople.  At a given signal, the Natchez attacked them, catching the settlers unaware.  Men, women, and children were cut down and massacred. Most of the men were killed and many women and children were killed.  Those who were not able to escape into the woods and get downriver to New Orleans were taken captive by the Natchez and treated harshly.  Monsieur Chepart was beheaded and his head taken back to the Natchez village. In all, 150 men were killed, as well as 36 women and 56 children.

Among the dead were Marguerite’s husband Pierre and oldest child.  Also killed was her friend Francienne.  Jacques, Francienne’s husband, escaped. He was hunting in the woods nearby when the massacre occurred. Marguerite escaped with her baby and made her way back to New Orleans to be with her family.

A man, possibly Jacques Cantrelle, stumbled into New Orleans several days after the attack to alert the French soldiers of the massacre.  They retaliated against the Natchez, rescuing most of the captured settlers and eventually killing or selling into slavery nearly every member of the Natchez tribe.  Some escaped and were assimilated into other tribes.

Marguerite now 18, and Jacques, 33, married six months later in New Orleans. They were already good friends and both shared similar tragedy and heartache. It seemed only natural that they would decide to marry.  They made their home on a plantation in what is now Kenner, LA.  In addition to her daughter, little Marguerite Le Houx, she and Jacques would have seven children.  Michael Bernard Cantrelle, their sixth child, is my ancestor.

Marguerite Larmusiau and Jacques Cantrelle are my seventh great grandparents.

*Note: Marguerite is my father’s ancestor and her brother Thomas Joseph Larmusiau is my mother’s ancestor.

** For a list of those killed in the Fort Rosalie massacre, visit  http://www.natchezbelle.org/adams-ind/massacre.htm. The list was compiled by a Capuchin priest and missionary, Fr. Filbert on the 9th of June, 1730, aboard the Duc de Bourbon.

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Two Worlds Meet On Stage

Charles gazed into Louise’s eyes as he leaned towards her. “Cut!” yelled the director of the Pensacola resort’s stock theater company.  Charles and Louise paused and turned toward him to listen for more stage direction.  They picked up the scene again where they left off and worked on it more before finishing for the evening.   This was the first rehearsal for the summer season’s new play at the resort.  After rehearsal, being enamored with Louise’s exotic French accent, beautiful black hair, and dark onyx eyes, Charles asked Louise if he could call on her later and take her for a carriage ride around the town square.

Pensacola was his hometown.  His father, Jasper Strong, an 1819 West Point graduate from Vermont , had moved there before Charles was born to help construct the three forts at the mouth of Pensacola Bay. (Jasper Strong’s story is told in the post, “The Fort Builder.”)  This town had become the grandest resort town on the Gulf , especially since the destruction of Last Island in Louisiana 15 years earlier in 1856.

Charles, a recent Harvard graduate, had been in several of the theater company’s productions since the end of the war.  Theater was such a wonderful distraction from the emotional devastation and physical destruction the war had brought to the South.  But things were looking especially well now since this lovely new actress had joined their company. Louise’s friends had encouraged her to audition for the play since she would be in Pensacola with them for the entire summer. She had studied dramatics and voice several years ago after she had been given her share of her parents’ estate on turning 21.  She also studied Higher English to curb her strong French accent. Louise admired Shakespeare and read all of his works.  She was also an accomplished equestrian and taught horse-back riding.  But dramatics had become her favorite pastime and this production would be her stage debut as a leading lady!

Theater was also a diversion for Louise, as it was for Charles.  The war had taken its toll on her.  The terror of the war had just added to the grief and sadness she and her brother and sisters felt since the death of their parents and brother in the hurricane at Last Island.  These summer retreats to Pensacola were a nice escape from the massive destruction she saw everyday.

Even her beloved plantation home at Charenton, Louisiana had been burned to the ground. She remembered the event well.  Union soldiers had made their quarters on the lower floor of their home. She and her orphaned sisters and their French guardian that had been sent from Paris, Monsieur Peconte’, were living in the upstairs rooms.  (Louise’s older brother was not at the home since he had become a Confederate soldier.  He was wounded severely at the Battle of Seven Pines.)  One of the Union soldiers had become enamored with her younger 15-year-old sister Euphemie Marie.  She refused his overtures so he went outside, tore down their French flag and started a fire with it in the main hall of their home.  She ran downstairs and stomped out the fire with her feet then looked at the soldier and said, “I speet on you!”  The spurned soldier found other quarters, but soon after, the house was burned.

Charles and Louise went on that carriage ride after rehearsal that night and courted the rest of the summer.  They later decided to marry in 1872.  Enjoying a lavish and expansive honeymoon, they spent some time in Italy, then went to France and England visiting the home of their ancestors.

They lived in New Orleans for several years where he operated a shipping business.  Charles began to miss life on the Gulf Coast so he sought a position as Deputy of Customs in Bay St. Louis, Mississippi.

Front Street, Bay Saint Louis (cir. 1900) – Hancock County Historical Society

There he and Louise made their home.  Charles was also justice-of-the-peace for many years and became Chief of Census -1900 for the Deep South States.  Louise was a devoted wife and mother and was very active in the Catholic Church there.  Together, Charles and Louise had nine children and both lived in Bay St. Louis until their deaths.  They are buried in the old Bay St. Louis cemetery- Cedar Rest Cemetery.

Charles Matthew Strong and Marie Louise Christine Frere Strong are my great-great grandparents.  Their youngest son, William Dewey Strong is my great-grandfather.

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Of Plantations and Hurricanes

Aspasie Fuselier de la Claire Frere   (1822 – 1856)

The air was thick and sultry around the plantation on this hot August day — usual weather for a south Louisiana summer.  And this day in 1856 was no different.  Aspasie Frere, a youthful lady of society, had just given birth, three months earlier, to her seventh child.  At 34, she was feeling weak and feeble since Marie Felicite was born and thought that finding a respite from the oppressive heat would help win back her strength.  Her physician believed that “salt water air” would be amenable to her condition.

Using her doctor’s advice, she convinced her husband, Adrien, that it would be best for her to spend time down at the luxurious resort on Isle Derniere, a long slender island off the coast of Louisiana.   She wanted to bring along her seven-year-old son,  Joseph Adrien, since he was at the perfect age to enjoy the sand and the waves. He would also have a chance to spend some playful time with his father.  Her other children were in good hands staying behind with the servants at the plantation in Charenton.  After all, she wanted to be able to rest during her stay on the island.

Frederic Adrien Frere (1819 – 1856)

Adrien, Aspasie, Joseph and a servant boarded a steam vessel on Bayou Teche in St. Mary Parish.  As the boat made its way down the bayou and then into the meandering  passages of the marsh, the air from the Gulf was noticeably lighter and breezier.

As they crossed Caillou Bay and came nearer to the island, the shape of the hotel was beginning to form on the horizon.  It was quite a spectacle!  She could not wait to take in all that the resort had to offer.

Built several years earlier, the hotel on the island had become the playground of wealthy, aristocratic southerners.  And this was the height of the season.  The hotel would be packed with other socialites, like herself.  With the anticipation of cooler weather and the prospect of stimulating conversation with friends, this week would certainly be the perfect medicine for her weakened condition.

The Trade Winds Hotel was to be built on Isle Dernier in 1857

The boat arrived at the hotel dock late in the evening.  The Frere’s saw the hotel teeming with hundreds of friends and acquaintances from Louisiana’s southern parishes’ society and New Orleans’ social elite.

The following day the family went out to enjoy the white sandy beaches.  The waves were rolling onto the shore as Joseph and Adrien swam out in the blue-green water of the Gulf.  The breezes were cool — blowing out of the northeast.  It was a beautiful day!  As she watched them play in the water, Aspasie was thinking about how grateful she was that the weather was so nice while they were there.   She was feeling much better already.

Each day was full of activity.  They went to the beach each morning and then again, later in the evening, when the heat was not as intense.  But some of her friends had been chatting about how high and rough the surf  had been getting for the past few days and that it was getting harder and harder to stand out in the pounding waves.  The clouds in the once clear sky were now passing overhead in rows as if in a panic.  By the next morning, the partly cloudy skies had turned grey and raining and the surf was too tumultuous to allow even the most adventurous bathers to enter.

As the morning wore on, the rain came with bursts of intensity. The wind grew more and more strange. It drove the back bay waters up onto the north shore of the island.  As the water rose higher and higher pushing up onto the island, the wind became more and more intense.  Adrien, Aspasie, their son and servant gathered with everyone else into the hotel as the day grew darker and louder.  The wind was now ripping at roofs and tearing at shutters, but the hotel stood firm.

In fact, music was heard coming from the hotel dance hall. Every night there was a dance in the Great Hall of the hotel and this evening was no exception.  Adrien and Asapasie decided to distract themselves from the storm by going to pass away the time with their friends.  When they got to the dance hall, nearly everyone from the island was there — trying to distract their minds that were filled with nervous excitement.

The wind roared outside and seeped through every crack and crevice in the hotel walls with howls that blended with the harmonies being played inside. Then Aspasie shrieked.  Water began swirling around her ankles! Then suddenly the wind shifted and the building began to rock and sway.  For a moment everyone hushed.  In the midst of the roar came an unfamiliar sound like that of cannons booming.  People grabbed doors, tables, sofas, billiard tables — anything they could hold onto.  And then it came.  The enormous tidal surge washed up the beach and crashed into the packed hotel, lifting her up, spinning her around and crumbling her to pieces.

Most of the 400 vacationers and island inhabitants were washed out to sea.  A few survivors floated to land or marsh on logs or they survived by miraculously holding on to trees or poles buried deep in the ground.  But Adrien, Aspasie, Joseph, and their servant were not among the survivors.  A body believed to have been Aspasie’s was found near Bayou Du Large several miles inland.  Adrien, Joseph, nor Aspasie’s servant were ever found.

Back at the Charenton plantation their six surviving children, Alexandre Gabriel, 15, Marie Louise Christine, 13, Philomene Aimee, 9, Euphemie Marie, 8, Elizabeth Aspasie, 3 and Marie Felicite, 3 months, were left with a tremendous physical and emotional void — both parents and a brother lost in one day.  But also the children faced an uncertain future alone as the dark days of civil war loomed on the horizon.

A monument to the Freres stands in the Charenton Cemetery in Charenton, LA.  The Last Island Hurricane was one of the top ten hurricanes ever to hit the coast of the United States.

Adrien and Aspasie Frere are my great, great, great grandparents.  Their surviving daughter, Marie Louise Christine Frere, my great, great grandmother married Charles Matthew Strong.

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