Thomas Edward Pennington (1893 - 1981)

Born 3 Apr 1893 in California, Moniteau, Missouri, United States

Ancestors

Died 14 Jul 1981 at age 88 in Gatesville, Coryell, Texas, United States

Problems/Questions Profile manager: MG Pitts [send private message]

Biography

MEMOIRS OF A HILL-BILLY By Thomas Edward Pennington

FOREWORD by Edward Newton Pennington, 1332 Ridgewood Drive, Bartlesville, OK 74006:

In 1972 when my father, Thomas Edward Pennington, was 79 years of age, he started writing his memoirs. When I was visiting with him, he showed me the first draft and asked for my comments. Dad was a great story teller. Through the years he had told me of many experiences which were not included. I wrote out a list of experiences I thought should be added. However, the next time I visited him he told me the task was too great. His eyesight was failing, and he no longer had the stamina to sit for hours at the typewriter. Shortly after that he gave me the manuscript and said whatever was done with it I would have to do. The stories I thought should be added have now been lost. Until I started editing and preparing the manuscript for publication, I did not appreciate the magnitude of the task he had assigned to himself. I understand now why he could not finish it.I do not know why Dad chose to refer to himself as a Hill-Billy. He certainly did not have the stereotype appearance or manners of a Hill-Billy.He was neat and well educated, and certainly qualified to be pastor of one of the larger Baptist churches in the State of Kansas and Associate Pastor of the First Baptist Church, Rochester, NY. Actually, the low flint hills around California, MO, hardly qualify as the Ozarks. There is no getting around the fact he was a country boy, but he learned city ways. However, he was never really at home in the city. He preferred small towns. I think his happiestyears were at Medina, Granger, and Gatesville in Texas. Dad was a sensitive man and interested in the people around him. He never forgot nor was he ashamed of his humble beginnings.In editing the manuscript I have tried to retain It essentially as hewrote it. I have made some changes in syntax and choice of words, but the content and meaning are as he wrote it. I have expanded his story in some places by footnotes and have added or corrected a few items of factual information.In these memoirs Dad does not tell of his marriages. In my opinion, he found thinking on the failure of his first marriage too painful and he further did not want to cause pain for anyone else. Therefore, his story is and will always be incomplete. However, certain facts need to be recorded. Thomas Edward Pennington and Harriet Albin Palmer were united in marriage on Oct. 5, 1916, To this marriage two sons were born: Edward Newton on Dec. 24, 1917, and Robert Sylvester on Oct. 4, 1920. In May 1929, Hattie took the two boys and went to her parents' home in Syracuse, MO. A divorce was granted in July 1930. In July 1931, Dad and Maxine Burns were married. To this marriage was born in 1941 one son, James V. Dad died July 14, 1981, at Gatesville, TX. Heis buried In Bellwood Cemetery at Temple, TX. Mom died February 9, 1961, in Kansas City, MO, and is buried at Syracuse, MO. At this writing, Maxine is living in Minneapolis, MN.

MEMOIRS:

On April 3, 1893, I first saw the light of day. The location of thegrand occasion was a small two-room dwelling on an 80-acre farm, about five mi. SW of California, and about three mi. NW of the village of Latham, Moniteau County, Missouri. My father was Charles Sylvester Pennington who was born July 14, 1868, about one mile E, of my birthplace. He died in Kansas City, MO (2722 Askew Ave.) on May 1, 1931, and is buried in Memorial Park Cem.

pg 37

south of Swope Park in Kansas City. My mother was Mary Magdalene (Allee) Pennington who was born July 26, 1869, in Cooper County, MO, and at the age of ten came with her parents to Moniteau County. They settled on a farm less than one mile north of the Pennington home. My mother died at the family homein Kansas City on May 2, 1938. Funeral services for her and my father were conducted at the Kensington Ave. Baptist Church in Kansas City, both services on May 4th, seven years apart. Rev. C.P. Jones officiated at both services.She is buried at my father's side in Memorial Park.My paternal grandfather was John R. Pennington who was born in Kentucky and came to Missouri before the Civil War. He died on Aug. 10, 1881. My paternal grandmother was Martha Ann (Wells Suggs) Pennington (Luster). She also was born in Kentucky and came to Missouri in an early day. She became mentally ill late in life and died in the State Hospital in Nevada, MO, in 1904.They are both buried in the Cemetery at the Flag Springs Baptist Church about four mi. SW of California, MO.

My maternal grandfather was Thomas Edward Allee. He was born in Cooper County, MO, June 18, 1840, and died in Moniteau County on Jan. 14, 1931. He was the son of William Allee and the grandson of David Allee. This David Allee was a soldier in the American Revolution who settled in Cooper County, MO, where he was a farmer, Baptist preacher and teacher. He directed thebuilding of the first church to be built in Cooper County. It was used both as a church and school house. My maternal grandmother was Sally Ann (Birdsong) Allee. It is my understanding that she was born in Moniteau County Sept. 7, 1842, and that she left the county only once during her long life. After being an invalid for several years she died Jan. 21, 1921. Both of these grandparentsare also buried in the Cemetery of the Flag Springs Baptist Church.

An hour or so after my grand entrance into the world, the Henry Hills, who lived just across a meadow west from our place, were also visited by the stork who delivered their son Hiram. 1 clinched many childhood arguments by reminding Hi Hill that I was older than he and that I was third in my family and he was fifth in his. As 1 have grown older I have not been able to remember what my reasoning was that attached merit to being third instead of fifth. But it served a purpose then.

In my early childhood I was what was known in Missouri as a "puny child." I was sick a great deal of the time and spent many long, weary days in bed. I could often hear other children laughing, yelling, crying, fighting - but it all seemed so far removed from me. Later in life I was to realize that it was often more amusing, and less painful, to lie in bed and speculate about what was happening than it was to be in the midst of the action.

One reason for my being puny was an addiction to nosebleeding. Any little bump would bring on a nosebleed, and sometimes It would be quite serious. Sometimes with no cause at all I would suddenly have a nosebleed. I remember one such occasion when the bleeding became serious. I was placed in bed and all the home remedies applied to no avail. There was a man in the community by the name of Bud Cunningham who was supposed to have some occult power to stop bleeding. In the darkness of the night my father saddled a mule and went to bring Mr. Cunningham. I well remember when they entered the room. Mr. Cunningham did not touch me, but stood with bowed head and made some motions with his hands. Suddenly the bleeding stopped. He and my father sat by the fireside and talked in an undertone. I soon went to sleep, but in a short time I was awakened by the return of the bleeding. Mr. Cunningham once more stood with bowed head and made motions with his hands. The bleeding stopped once more. Then he assured my folks it would not return, and asked them to come for him if it did. Then he went his way. My memory is that I slept soundly the rest of the night and stayed in bed a few days, but the nosebleed did not return at that time.

The Ozark people are a superstitious people. Many of them claimed they had eerie experiences, had seen ghosts, communed with the dead, or had Divine visitations. I was often told that a bogy would get me when I was out of line in any way. I have never seen a bogy, and have no idea what one would look like. The word still sounds a bit scary to me. However, I can remember that early in life I began to question the bogy theory in my own mind. It seemed to me that the bogy was either overworked, or that he was lying down on the job, because he hadn't gotten a lot of kids for mean things I knew they had done, and then lied to their parents or the school teacher about it. If he was going to get me for saying "Gee Whiz," why hadn't he nabbed my brother John for saying something far worse? If he was going to get me for failing to wash my ears, why hadn't he gotten Gil Allison who never washed at all? No, the bogy theory just did not make sense.

I suppose it was because I was sick so much that I did not really learn to play with other kids. Then, when I was able to be up and about, I did not have the pep to keep up with them. So, I spent much of my time wandering around alone, watching birds or squirrels, or building something with sticks and/or stones, only to have the other kids show up in time to tear down what I had built before I got it finished. Perhaps it was just as well, since I likely would not have known when it was finished.

There was a patch of underbrush some two hundred yards from our house, and in season it usually abounded in wild blackberries. None of us were ever permitted to go there alone, but being an outcast from the other kids, I sometimes took advantage of the situation to slip off and eat some of those fine blackberries. Then I would hasten back, pausing at the branch to wash the black from my mouth and face before anyone missed me. I discounted all the dangers I was supposed to face if I tried such a thing - bogies, mad dogs, snakes, or a wild man who escaped from a circus.

page 39

From this little escapade I was to learn one of life's abiding lessons.

One day Kate Hill came to see my mother. I was lying on the floor, not paying attention to their conversation, but I heard Kate Hill say, "Maggie, I was in the blackberry patch picking some blackberries the other day, and what do you suppose I saw?" My mother could not guess, but I was just certain she had seen me. But I was wrong. Kate continued, "As I was picking I was singing and praying, and God came in the form of a dove and lit on my shoulder and spoke to me." My mother exclaimed, "No, Kate, you don't mean that." But Kate assured her it was so. I have never been able to recall what she said God had told her, but 1 felt I had been caught. I had no idea that God was over there in the blackberry patch. In my childish thinking that was far more horrible than a snake, wild man, mad dog, or bogy. I decided that I would make no more trips there alone.

It was sometime later that I had opportunity to tell my grandmother about Kate Hill seeing God in the blackberry patch. I also told Grandma I was afraid to go there. My grandmother never did know there was such a thing as child psychology. She never saw a book on the subject and died without knowing that one was ever written. But she knew more about the subject than most of the authors of the books. She assured me that God is everywhere. She told me anywhere I would ever go God would be there, not just to spy on me, but to help me and take care of me. "Always do what is right, and you won't need to be afraid of God," was her word. "I'll bet He told Kate Hill to quit stealing blackberries," Grandma said. That was Grandma. She said what she thought, and did not always carefully choose her words to express her opinion. She was unlearned, but evidently had a deep insight into human nature, and could figure things out pretty well. She was usually right.

Grandpap and Grandma Allee were married while they were still quite young. But not before Grandpap had taken a trip on a wagon train expecting to go to California. How I wish I had made notes on some of the interesting stories he used to tell. Perhaps I didn't consider it important, or else I felt I had plenty of time. I do remember when I became pastor of the Baptist Church in Council Grove, KS, he became quite interested. He told me his wagon train had laid over a couple of days there. He told about a little fracas in a store. I do not remember the details. However, 1 feel that the store he mentioned is still standing as this is being written (June 1972). It is called "The Last Chance Store," and is located a few blocks west of the business section of Council Grove.

Soon after their marriage Grandpap went to serve the Confederacy. I believe he was in what was called Price's Army, and served under General Marmaduke. He saw action in the Battles of Pea Ridge, AR, Wilson Creek, MO, and Booneville, MO. Those were long, lonesome days for those who were waiting at home, with no way to get a message to their loved ones in the service, and no way to get any word of the welfare of those who served. Grandma used to tell how she walked across a field each morning to the one-room log cabin that she and Grandpap called home. It was near the home of Grandpap's parents. She would spend the night in their home, but the days she spent at her home watching and praying for the return of her husband. One day as she sat and watched she saw about six Union soldiers approaching on horseback. She quickly secured the bar on the door and scampered up a ladder into the attic. Then she pulled the ladder up after her and closed the trap door. She listened to the soldiers as they broke into the house, ransacked the place, and then went their way. When she came down she discovered that they had taken a fine young horse which had been given to her as a wedding present. They had left in its place a tired, worn-out horse too lame to walk. They had also taken a suit of clothes she

Footnote 3. Grandma was 19 and Grandpap was 21.

page 40

had made and was saving for Grandpap' s return. She went weeping to her father-in-law and told him the bad news. He advised her to return to her home, feed and water the horse, and make the best of it. She found a pebble in the horse's foot which was causing its lameness. She picked the pebble out with a hairpin and the horse got all right. It turned out to be a much better horse than the one she had lost. While she lay in that attic fearing and hoping to protect her life, little did she realize that she was protecting the lives of many others: eight children, 35 grandchildren, perhaps 20 greatgrandchildren, and at least A great-great-grandchildren 'ere she departed this life.

One day as she looked and prayed she saw a man running through the woods. She watched as he came closer, and then recognized that it was the one for whom she looked and prayed. She flung the door open and started to meet him, but he motioned her back. In several minutes he approached the door and ran inside. He had been taken prisoner at the Battle of Booneville. He had escaped the prison camp, and after two weeks' travelling mostly at night, he had found his way home. The war was about over, and no one ever came seeking him.

There are so many interesting things to tell about those rugged grandparents. They were the parents of ten children; two died in infancy. All the others survived their parents with the exception of Columbus (Uncle Lum). He was the oldest of their children, and was killed in a railroad accident.

Uncle Lum fathered seven children and they all survived him.

Uncle Rile had five children: Willie, Jesse, Rosa, Minnie, and Neely. There were seven children born to my parents: John, Lennie, Ed, Sally, Nell, Stella, and Ida.

Five are surviving at the time this is written. Uncle Wash had no children.

Uncle Vess made up for it as he and his wife had ten. Uncle Wilbert had three.

His wife (Aunt Mary) became mentally ill early in life. My grandparents took the two boys, Everett and Clarence, and raised them. Uncle Vess took the little baby girl, Alpha, and made a home for her. She passed away when she was about twelve. She was a sweet and beautiful child. Aunt Rilla did not marry until she was past child-bearing age. Uncle Wilson had three - two sons and a daughter: Paul, Ernest, and Nell Ruth. Uncle Wilson, who spent many years in the Baptist ministry, was the last to depart this life.

I do not recall Grandpap ever punishing me beyond a thump on the head with his long, bony finger. Punishment was Grandma's department, and she handled it well. I recall the time I was playing on the floor when it came time for prayers. Grandpap signalled the time by knocking the ashes out of his pipe into the fireplace, and reaching up to the mantelpiece to pick up his Bible. That meant everyone was to give attention as he read, and then all knelt for prayers. On this occasion the old cat started to pass me just as Grandpap opened his Bible. I caught the cat by the tail and held on as he dug his claws into the carpet and let out a M-E-O-W. Grandpap came through with his thump. I turned the cat loose and sat up to listen. Then, as he began to read, I held my hands before my face, tilted my head back like I was looking through bifocals, not making a sound, but going through the motions of reading. Aunt Rilla saw me and became amused. That made me think I was doing something cute. The reading finished, all knelt for prayer. After a long prayer, all began to rise from their kneeling position. It was then that Grandma reached over, took me by the arm, and led me to the kitchen. There she administered a good sound spanking - the kind one does not forget. Then when I was through crying, she fixed for me a piece of bread and butter sprinkled with sugar. That was Grandma.

I have a picture of the family taken on the day of Uncle Lum's funeral in 1910.

When my cousin Kattie was an overgrown, unruly teen-age girl, she one time said to Grandma, "Shut your mouth." That was poor judgment on Hattie's part. Grandma picked up a big switch which she had handy. Hattie grabbed the switch and broke it in two. Grandma took the big end and flailed Hattie all over the porch. She did not quit until Hattie said "Please" and promised never to sass her Grandma again.

One day Mother called John R. and me to her and tried to lay some serious thoughts on our minds. She told us that some day the world would come to an end. She said such was taught in the Bible, and that lots of folks thought the time was close at hand. I do not recall other parts of her conversation, but the idea of the end of the world left a deep impression on my mind. One day I was at Grandpap's home, and as was often the case, Grandma and I were alone. She would often ask me to stay with her as the other kids ran and played. On this particular day I remembered what Mother had said and asked Grandma about it. Her answer to me is as fresh in my mind as though it happened yesterday. "Yes, Eddie, that's right. What a wonderful day that will be because that will be the day that Jesus comes back. There is a better world waiting and Jesus will take us all to Heaven with Him. There will be no more sorrow, sickness or death. It will be a wonderful day."

I can truthfully say that from that long ago day until this moment I have had a deep conviction about the Second Coming of our Lord; and the thoughts of that day have never again frightened me. It was years later that I saw her for the last time. She was an invalid and wanted to hear me preach. People of the neighborhood gathered at the home one evening and I stood at the end of the old porch and tried to preach. It was a few years later, as anxious ones waited by the bedside, that a weary old soul calmly said, "I reckon it's time to go home." Someone leaned over to assure her, "Grandma, you are at home."

How true were the words, because in that fleeting moment she had stepped through the Gates of Pearl.

A few years later an old, old man lay in the same bed in the same room. He asked to be raised from his pillow, and when he was in a sitting position a look of rapture came over his old worn and be-whiskered face. He clasped his hands and made a joyful utterance, and as he rested back on his pillow he said, "I've just seen Sally Ann. She had a ribbon in her hair and looked just like she did the first time I ever saw her." He cleared his eyes and whispered,

"I'll soon be with you, Sally Ann." My grandparents were paupers. They left very little of this world's goods. But my, oh my! What a noble heritage! They lived to see their children to the fourth generation, and now that has been extended to the fifth and sixth. So far as I know, there is not a lost sinner in the whole group.

What they left is far more precious than silver or gold. Their faith was simple. They read the Bible and believed what they read. Surely theirs is the reward of the righteous.

My grandfather Pennington died 12 years before I was born, so the information I have on him is very scanty. I understand he was a man of quiet, dignified bearing, business-like in his approach, and a good neighbor. He was a slaveholder prior to the Civil War, but I do not know how many slaves he might have possessed at any one time. My feeling is that he was fairly well fixed at one time, but that the devastation of the War and the freeing of the slaves left him in modest circumstances. He served with the Confederacy, but I have no record as to what extent. He was a widower and father of six children when he married my grandmother. I do not know his age, but I have had information that Grandmother was a widow, and 24 years old when they married.

Her first husband, named Suggs, was killed in the War. She had one daughter

page 42

whom my father always called "Sis." I do not know her name otherwise, except that her married name was McDaniel, She was widowed early in life and was left with one daughter, Bertha. My impression is that she and Bertha made their home with my grandparents. Grandmother continued to care for Bertha following the death of Sis.

The next day following grandfather Pennington's funeral my Dad, who was a month past his 13th birthday, went down the road passing grandfather Allee's home. He was standing erect on the back of the horse and singing "Old Dan Tucker" at the top of his voice. My mother, who was just past her 12th birthday, was playing in the yard and saw and heard him. She told us that story many times as we grew up, and always ended it by saying, "Your daddy was a bad boy, but he grew up to be a good man." On the occasion of my last visit with my mother in April 1938, we were alone together and she related the story to me once more and concluded it the same way. By then 1 knew a little more about life, so I said to her, "Mom, why don't you finish the story?" She replied,

"There is no more to tell. He came back a half hour later still standing on the horse and still singing." Then I asked, "Where were you when he came back?" Tears welled in her eyes. She hesitated a few seconds and then she told me. She was down by the road playing in the shade of a huge tree. She admitted that it was then she had fallen in love. When he had passed the first time, she ran to the house, washed her feet, hands and face, put a fresh ribbon in her hair, and went down to play under the big tree. She knew he would be coming back. But when he came, he rode by looking the other way. A broken-hearted little girl ran to the house, hid in what was called the big house, and cried because he had not noticed her. Years later she had learned that the carefree lad had rounded the corner, slipped from his horse, sneaked back, and peeked through the old rail fence, but the little girl with the red ribbon in her hair was gone. To me that is a beautiful love story. I am so glad I asked her to finish the story I had heard in part many, many times.

McDaniel Bible Record ommitted here

This is about as far back as I can go with the Pennington family. There are one or two sources of information which I may try to probe. I do know that my grandfather had at least two brothers who also came from Kentucky to Missouri. I know the name of only one of the brothers: Levi. I remember Father had two cousins, John and Joe Pennington, who lived on adjoining farms on what we called the prairie south some miles from our home in Moniteau County.

No account of the tribe would be complete without at least a mention of Levi (Uncle Bug) Pennington. I do not know when he and Aunt Sarah were separated, and I do not know if they ever got a divorce. But their home was broken up. Also among the things was a straight chair which is now in my possession.

page 45

and he wandered about the community staying here and there with relatives or neighbors. He was of a mean disposition so did not stay in one place long at a time. By and by his horse showed up somewhere without him, and search parties went out to look for him. He was found near a log upon which he had been sitting. His faithful dog was close by. I believe 1899 is the date on his gravestone in Flag Springs. One of my earliest memories is attendance at his funeral. He had one son, Berry, and one daughter, Sadie, who married Jim Hume. My main memory of Uncle Bug has to do with his punishing me by tying me in the stall with his old horse. Aunt Viney assured me the horse would not hurt me, and I believed her. I pawed the ground and whinnied just like the horse, and was soon turned loose. That day he started to tie Ethel Smith, but Aunt Viney objected. Uncle Bug got mad and left, saying he would never come back. I think he was right.

My first step toward securing an education was my entrance at the age of six in the Pilot Grove School. This was in the Fall of 1899. My one and only book was a "Primer" which had been handed down from brother John to sister Lennie, and then to me. I think I had practically memorized it before I ever went to school. My first teacher was Miss Tillie Paradore. After she left the Pilot Grove community I can't remember that I ever saw her or heard from her again. So, I do not know from whence she came or where she went. Other teachers of my early years were: Jeff Gill, a young man who was definitely not meant to be a teacher, and Miss Nellie McPherson, an attractive young lady with a sweet disposition. Evidently she had deep religious convictions because she started each day with the singing of hymns, prayer and scripture quotations. She offered small prizes to pupils for memorizing scripture. Another teacher was my Cousin Aubrey Smith.

The Fall of 1900 saw the hotly contested political campaign between William Jennings Bryan and William McKinley. The kids at school got caught up with the enthusiasm of the campaign and yelled "Hurrah" for their favorite candidate. The Democrats far outnumbered the Republicans in Pilot Grove. So "Hurrah for Bryan" was echoed from one group to another as we left the school grounds and went our several ways home. Kate Hill stood in her backyard and listened as the Pennington kids came home from school yelling for Mr. Bryan. My Mother had been quite poorly, so Kate mistook the object of our yelling. As our voices echoed through the woods she understood us to say, "Ma is dying." So she took off through the woods and ran all the way to our place. Just as we came out of the woods from the East, Kate emerged from the North. Until this day I get a mind picture of her - clothing torn from running through the underbrush, hair disheveled, face red and perspiring, and a wild, frightened look in her eyes.

About a month following this episode my sister Nell was born. Perhaps she was premature; anyhow, she was very small and it was whispered about that she likely would not live. In this connection I made my most celebrated childhood observation. A neighbor lady said, as I looked on Nell for the first time, "Poor little baby. Your poor mother has all you others to care for, maybe I should just take the baby home with me and keep her. What do you say, Eddie?" Mother pouted, "Please don't let her take my baby." So, I came up with the solution by saying to the neighbor, "Why not leave her here for a few days. Maybe she will die."

Misfortune was my lot in 1901. It was then that an accident at play resulted in a fractured left cheek bone. The injury was not considered serious until some months later my cheek became infected. This was likely the most

Footnote 10. Dad spent several days with his Grandma Allee when sister Nell was born. His story of the experience is one of the stories that has been lost.

page 46

serious illness of my childhood days. I recall vividly one night that it seemed to me that little backwoods cottage became the most beautiful place I had ever seen. It seemed that I was surrounded by kindness, love, and glory. Every way I looked I saw smiling faces, and I tried so hard to join with happy playing children that I saw. It seemed that I would almost make it, and then find myself back on the old bed, a sick, feverish little boy. A few nights after this unusual experience, an old lady named Adaline Christian sat with me through the night. Deep in the darkness of the night she prayed as her gentle hand rested on my brow. Presently the fever left me, I went to sleep, awakened the next morning, and asked for food. I still believe that prayer and others were responsible for my recovery.

Just before my Cousin Aubrey became our school teacher, they moved the schoolhouse a half mile or more further north. I do not recall why, but think it was a matter of locating it more in the center of the district. The schoolhouse was jacked up and huge wooden rollers placed under it. Bridge lumber was used as the track. A team of mules was used to pull the schoolhouse, using a "block and tackle" which is a heavy rope running through a series of pulleys. The mules would travel a distance of about 100 yards while the schoolhouse would move only a few feet. But it was moved and located in time for school to start on time. New ground was cleared off for the new location and playground. There were three or four bumblebee nests on this new ground, and this furnished plenty of excitement during play periods. Warnings to stay away from the nests were not heeded. Roy Birdsong (a kissing cousin) crawled under the schoolhouse to retrieve the baseball which had rolled under during play. As Roy crawled out, Gil Allison placed a bumblebee on Roy's nose and it stung him. I came to Roy's defense and hit Gil with a stick. Both Gil and I were called before the teacher. Gil's defense was that he thought he had caught a drone, and did not know the bee had a stinger. My defense was that Roy was my cousin, my seatmate, and that he was a little boy. Both Gil and I had to stand in the corner for an hour. I met Roy 40 years later and learned that he still had a warm place in his heart for me for (in his language) "cleaning Gil's plow for him." However, he had forgotten what brought it all about. When I refreshed his memory, he felt his nose to see if it were still swollen.

On July 8, 1902, my sister Stella Ruth was born. She was a beautiful, healthy baby. Somehow, in the mysterious way that our kind Heavenly Father does things, little Stella was destined to live only five short months. A funeral service was held at the Flag Springs Church and a neighbor man, named John Dixon, gave a short talk. I remember only a few things about the service. I do remember that Mr. Dixon said something like this, "We do not know why God has taken this little babe from its mother's bosom, but we can be sure that God has a purpose."

To me, a part of that purpose has been unfolded. My father had long wanted to move to Johnson County. He had worked there a year or so as a youth. His half-brother, John E. Pennington, lived there as did his half-sister, Mrs. Frank Dishman (Aunt Duck). After Stella's death, Mother seemed to be ready to leave the little two-roomed shanty which had been our home for several years.

Lennie, myself, Sally, Nellie, and Stella, in that order, were born there. John was born in Cole County, near Centertown, before my parents moved to this little home. So, at last, Mother consented to move to Johnson County. Father sold the little farm in 1903 and made plans to move.

Footnote 11. In fact, Grandma went to Grandma Allee's and refused to go back to the house that held so many memories. The rest of this part of the story as Dad told it is lost.

TO BE CONTINUED NEXT ISSUE.

Published PP 1990 Vol. 22 No. 1, pg. 36

Early Life

Family

Occupation

Death & Legacy

Timeline

Research Notes

Disputed Origins

Sources

• Memoirs published PP 1990 Vol. 22 No. 1, pg. 36

Acknowledgements

• This person was created on 22 September 2010 through the import of PittsPenn_2010-09-21.ged.