Ahnentafel

Information gathered from the 1920 and 1930 censuses on Darlen/Dalen/Dalan Davis, fifth cousin of Blanche Agnes Wilson:

Darlen/Dalen/Dalan Davis (son of Claud Duval and Ruhama Bird), born May 1895 in West Virginia, married Beulah M. (b. between 1895-1896 in West Virginia) between 1910-1920. Darlen was a carpenter in 1920 and was living with Beulah in Grant District, Doddridge County, West Virginia that year. By the time of the 1920 enumeration the couple had three children, Graden F., Ruth F., and Edith W. By April 1930 the family had moved to Salem, Harrison County, West Virginia, and had five children - Graden’s name now appears as Bradon, Edith W. now appears to be listed as Yvonne, and two new children, Dalen Jr. and Naomi appear, as well as Ruth.

Descendants of Darlen Davis
1. DARLEN10 DAVIS (CLAUD DUVAL9, ELIJAH8, ABSALOM7, PETER D.6, WILLIAM5, THOMAS WILLIAM4, JOHN3, WILLIAM2, WILLIAM1) was born May 1895 in West Virginia. He married BEULAH M. Bet. 1910 - 1920. She was born Bet. 1895 - 1896 in West Virginia.

Notes for DARLEN DAVIS:
January 8-9 1920 Grant District Doddridge West Virginia Sup 3 Enum 35 Sheet 5B
Fm 95 101 Davis, Claud D Head O F M W 46 M yes yes West Va West Va West Va yes Farmer General Farm 55
—Ruhama B Wife F W 52 M yes yes West Va West Va West Va yes None
96 102 Davis Dalan Head 1 M M W 24 M yes yes West Va West Va West Va yes Carpenter Rig building 56
—Beulah M Wife F W 24 M yes yes West Va West Va West Va yes none
—Graden F Son M W 4 S West Va West Va West Va none
—Ruth F Daughter F W 3 S West Va West Va West Va none
—Edith W Daughter F W 1 S West Va West Va West Va none

April 14, 1930 Salem, Tenmile District, Third Ward, Harrison, West Virginia Enum 17-38 Sup 5 Sheet 20A
George Street
94 474 485 Davis Dalen S Head 0 1800 R No M W 35 M 19 No yes West Virginia West Virginia West Virginia 75 yes Tool Dresser [?] Oil OOXV W yes No
—Beulah [Bealal?] Wife-H v F W 35 M 19 No yes West Virginia West Virginia West Virginia 75 yes None
—Bradon Son v M W 14 S yes yes West Virginia West Virginia West Virginia 75 yes None
—Ruth Daughter v F W 13 S yes yes West Virginia West Virginia West Virginia 75 yes None
—Yvonne Daughter v F W 11 S yes yes West Virginia West Virginia West Virginia 75 yes None
—Dalen Jr. Son v M W 10 S yes yes West Virginia West Virginia West Virginia 75 yes None
—Naomi Daughter v F W 8 S yes West Virginia West Virginia West Virginia 75 None

More About DARLEN DAVIS:
Census: 1920, Grant, Doddridge, West Virginia
Occupation: 1920, Carpenter

More About DARLEN DAVIS and BEULAH M.:
Marriage: Bet. 1910 - 1920

Children of DARLEN DAVIS and BEULAH M. are:
i. GRADEN F. DAVIS, b. Bet. 1915 - 1916, West Virginia.
ii. RUTH F. DAVIS, b. Bet. 1916 - 1917, West Virginia.
iii. EDITH W. DAVIS, b. Bet. 1918 - 1919, West Virginia.
iv. DALEN DAVIS JR., b. Bet. 1919 - 1920, West Virginia.
v. NAOMI DAVIS, b. Bet. 1921 - 1922, West Virginia.

In the summer of 2005, Mom and I took a trip to Michigan. I had never been there before, and we wanted to check out the many lighthouses on the Great Lakes. One of our favorite stops was the Little Sable Light, situated on an isolated sandy beach near Mears. The lighthouse is made of reddish brick and stands 107 feet tall on the eastern shore of Lake Michigan. As always, I was interested both in the light itself and in imagining what life for the lighthouse keepers was like, but had no reason to suspect I would one day find a personal connection.

Several years later, researching census records of our Wilson ancestors, I made an unexpected discovery. Hiram James Willson, born in Massena, New York, between 1836 and 1837, was the first cousin twice removed of Carl Ozro Wilson. Sometime between 1850 and 1867 Hiram moved from New York to Michigan, as did a number of Willson relatives. In the 1850 census Hiram can still be found in Louisville, New York, but in 1867 his daughter Gertrude was born in Michigan.

By 1900 Hiram had died, and Gertrude was not found in the census record of her widowed mother, Jennie (Vernon) Willson. Searching more widely, however, I was able to locate her; though Gertrude had married and therefore changed her last name, her birth year and birthdate were correct, as were the birthplaces of her parents. Once Gertrude had been identified, further details became evident. She had married Joseph Arthur Hunter (born March 1857) about 1887, and had given birth to Herbert H. in June 1888 and Pearl G. in July 1890.  Joseph’s occupation in the census record is shown as “lighthouse keeper,” with the family living in Golden Township, Oceana County. A quick Internet search determined that the lighthouse in Oceana County is in fact the Little Sable Light, and further research revealed a listing of the keepers of Little Sable, which includes not only Joseph Hunter but, for a few shorts weeks in 1910, “Mrs. H. G. [Gertrude Helen] Hunter.” 

All in all, it appears that the Hunters were involved with the Little Sable light from 1890-1922, when Joseph retired.  Joseph’s journals from 1916-1922 have been published as well, so (as soon as my copy arrives!) I may have an even fuller understanding of what life at Little Sable was like.

Bad luck with trains tends to run in our family. Within a span of twenty-five years, four different family members came too close to passing trains, twice with fatal results.

My grandmothers made up the more-fortunate half of this catalogue. Grandma Montgomery’s incident is the one I know the least about. I know she and her mother were riding in a car that was actually struck by a passing train, and I’ve since learned that Grandma always bore a scar on her forearm as a result.  Thankfully, both Grandma Montgomery and Grandma Wilson lived to tell this tale.

Grandma Hoffmann was the luckiest of the four, although her story was no less frightening.  A neighboring farmer was taking Grandma, her mother, and her sister Marilyn into town.  They were riding in an enclosed, horse-drawn wagon, with Lena and Marilyn in the back and Grandma on the wagon seat with the driver.  As they approached the railroad tracks, Grandma said, both she and the farmer looked carefully for trains but could see none and so started across the tracks.  Then, without warning, a train was nearly upon them.  Grandma wondered if perhaps the steam had rolled in front of the engine somehow and blocked it from view. The farmer whipped up the reins, but it seemed the horse would never get across the tracks.  He did, finally, but Lena, in the back of the enclosed wagon, was so close to the hurtling train that she could have touched it!

The two fatalities made their way into local newspapers of the time, so our information regarding them is more precise.  In 1908, Charles Johnson was 35 years old and living in Nebraska with his wife and daughter.  His wife Sena was the sister of Sophie (Roberg) Wilson (who, as we have already noted, would later survive her own encounter with a train).  At first there was some mystery regarding Charlie Johnson’s death, but it appears that in the end it was considered a tragic accident.  On October 5, according to family legend, Charlie had left the family’s home in Newman Grove to participate in a homestead drawing.  By the next morning he had not yet returned, and soon the family learned the gruesome truth.  Charlie, who may have been drinking in Oakdale the night before, had either fallen or been pushed onto the tracks. The Madison County newspaper would later state that Charlie’s body was so badly mutilated that it was “gathered up in a basket.”  According to our own family historian David Johnson, the family would later joke with equal grimness that “only the moustache was left.”

The tragedy more familiar to most of us was the accident that killed Paul Hoffmann, Sr.  In September 1933, Paul Hoffmann and several other men from Fairbury, Illinois, had traveled east to meet with members of the Apostolic Christian church who were visiting from Germany and Switzerland.  The men were traveling in three separate cars, with Paul bringing up the rear; riding with him was Jacob Bohning, one of the churchmen visiting from Germany.  As the cars passed through Bucyrus, Ohio, traveling on the Lincoln Highway (US Highway 30), they crossed over a set of unguarded railroad tracks.  The first two cars crossed safely and only realized the Hoffmann car was no longer with them after traveling some 18 miles farther west.  Returning to Bucyrus, the men came across the demolished car. According to newspaper accounts, two motorists witnessed the accident and stated that the Hoffmann car drove directly into the path of the oncoming train.  On September 24, both Paul Hoffmann and Jacob Bohning were buried in the East Graceland Cemetery in Fairbury. As a direct result of this accident (which was not the first car-train fatality there), an overpass was built so that travelers on the Lincoln Highway would never again encounter trains in Bucyrus but would pass safely beneath them. Perhaps in this way other lives were saved.  Nonetheless, whenever I am driving and come to a railroad crossing, I always think of our family’s history and look carefully both ways.

Every once in a while I find myself playing the genealogical “What If?” game.  What precise combination of events had to take place throughout the years to allow me to be me?  Perhaps this sense of narrowly-avoided oblivion makes those stories of ancestors’ first meetings so intriguing.

Grandma Montgomery (Blanche Wilson Montgomery) told me the first time she ever met Grandpa (L. T. Montgomery), he was part of a threshing crew working her family’s fields.  She was thirteen, and so shy she hid behind the door when she first saw him.  Eight years passed, during which Grandpa married, had two daughters, and was widowed.  Then in 1930, Grandma’s mother ran into Grandpa again in town.  She remembered him from the threshing crew years earlier and, thinking he would make a good husband for her oldest daughter, invited him out to the farm.  Shortly after this second meeting, Grandma and Grandpa married.

My maternal grandparents’ story began at a family get-together.  Grandma (Velma Swing Hoffmann) was in her teens and was surprised to see a young man at the family gathering whom she’d never seen before.  Struck by his good looks, she asked her mother who he was, only to find out he was a cousin!  She knew most of the Hoffmann cousins, of course–their father, Paul Hoffmann, had been a half-brother to her grandmother, Catherine Hoffmann Swing.  But Joe had been away in Chicago, and Grandma hadn’t realized there was a Hoffmann son older than Lee, born in 1912 (Grandpa was born in 1907, ten years before Grandma).  Grandma and Grandpa Hoffmann’s courtship was longer than Grandma and Grandpa Montgomery’s–they would not marry until 1938, some 5 years or so after that first meeting.

These stories (and all the other “first meetings” of ancestors) lead to inevitable questions.  Who would I be if Sophie Wilson hadn’t chosen that day to go into town?  Or what if Grandpa Hoffmann had stayed in Chicago rather than returning to Fairbury and attending that family get-together?  Or what if Grandma Montgomery had hidden behind that door again in 1930?