How about some old family history stories!! We all have more than a few!!

dreher

I will start out.  I was around my great grandfather a lot when I was 4, 5 and 6.  Several times per week my grandmother would take me down to my great grandparents house.  At that time I was their only great grand child so I was real special!!  At least until several more great grand kids came along, then I was no longer real special!!    

My great grandfather lived in Bryan, Ohio.  My Great grandmother lived on a farm outside of Hicksville, Ohio.  This was a distance of right at 18 miles in an age before the "horseless carriage".   So when Grandpa went to see grandma most every weekend it was by horse and buggy!   He told me he would go down to their farm to see his future wife.  When it was time to go home he would get his horse out on the road, crawl into the back of the buggy, lay on top of his two buffalo robes in the summer and lay in between them in the winter.  Grandpa said he would go to sleep at the farm and wake up with his horse standing in grandpa's barn in Bryan.   This took place around 1895 + or - 3 or 4 years.  
I always thought that it was so cool the horse knew the way home while grandpa slept!!  

So lets hear your stories of family lore!!

Merlinnv12

My great grandmother came out West over the Oregon Trail in the back of a covered wagon. She was just a baby in a  small crib.

During a steep descent, they had taken her out of the wagon and were lowering the wagon backwards with ropes. At some point a heavy wood stove slid backwards and would have crushed the crib and her. I guess I might not be here today had things gone wrong that day!

Brookwood

My Great Grand parents owned and operated a dairy farm just outside of my hometown.  They just about raised my mom for a few years during her childhood as her mother worked as a school teacher in a one room school house and her dad was gone a lot on merchant ships in the Great Lakes.

She got along very well with her grand folks (my gg's) and told me that the only time her granddad took a switch to her behind was when he caught her out behind the barn watching the rituals going on between the prize bull and one of the cows in the pasture!   She told me that for her learning about the facts of life was a painful experience that she would never forget!

Don McManus

http://www.newspaperabstracts.com/link.php?action=detail&id=1752

Great Grandpa John ran into a little trouble down Mexico way.

Granny Seta (not sure why she was called her that) made it back to California with my Grandfather.  She was still alive when I was born, but passed soon after.  She collected appx. $ 20,000.00 from the Mexican Government for the killing, I believe in 1919.  A decent amount of money at the time, but she was swindled out of most of it by a corrupt financial adviser from what we were told growing up.

buddyb

My ancestors on my dads side were most all moonshiners in the Carolina hills and mountains.The way I found who my great grand dad was records from Atlanta federal pen where he did 364 days in 1915 for illegal distillery.

SCOUT5

A lot of history. 
My Maternal Great, Great (right now I can't recall how many generations) Grandfather Archibald Casey fought in the War of the Revolution and was awarded a land grant in the Carolinas His son Henry fought in the war of 1812 and was also awarded a land grant.

On the paternal side our family settled Maysville Kentucky among other things.  My Grandfather (the Senior I'm a III)  had a five state whiskey route making his whiskey not many miles form where I live now.  He died IIRC in  1936 my father was five years old. .  My father was one of Granddad's second family and was the youngest son but for same reason became the junior.  The old goat (my grandfather)  married two different women both when they were 18, my grandmother was the second one.   My grandfather was fairly well off and the older children from his first marriage where well educated and some attended college.  My grandmother was not very money wise I guess and my father went to work instead of high school.

Because of Granddad's business there were ties to some less than desirable folks some of them quite famous for other than honorable reasons.   I guess when you do business in those circles it happens.

Nanuq907

My great grandfather was the first Superintendent of Yellowstone Park when the Army handed over control.  His daughter was born and raised in the park, and started working as a seasonal Ranger / Naturalist.  She went off to college and upon graduation cut off her hair so she'd look like a boy, bought a Harley, and she and her friend rode it back to Yellowstone.  They arrived in a cloud of dust and fumes and stomped into the Old Faithful Lodge and said "I'm Home!" much to the chagrin of the politicians visiting from Washington DC. 
She went back to work as a seasonal Ranger and pretty soon was promoted, becoming the first full-time lady Ranger in the national park service.  My granddad was head Ranger there his whole life, probably partly because he married the Boss's daughter. 
When my dad was born they had to leave the Park boundaries, else he wouldn't be a US Citizen. 
Granddad had many duties, one was to deliver the mail around the Park in winter using 13 foot XC skis and a backpack.  The poles were 10 feet long, every other foot painted red or green, so he could measure snow depths.  Grandmother Peg was the first woman to make the 144 mile mail route in winter, camping along the way.  Grandpa said his biggest fear was falling over on those skis.  He said he'd just hang there in the snow suspended by the skis until he died, and in the spring they'd find him in a meadow somewhere with his boots and skis still on.
Grandmother had a wild streak, and would take people out on riding tours.  They were at the Paint Pots and she walked out on the crust to show the crowd how strong it was.  She broke through and went in up to her knees, just above the tops of her boots.  They called her Paint Pot Peg after that.  
Great grandparents had a house right at the base of the white calcium formations in Mammoth, and one day they saw white water coming in through the back wall of the root cellar.  It wouldn't stop, and eventually filled in the cellar.  They tore the house down but for years you could see the top of the root cellar as the stairsteps took it over.
If you visit the Tower Falls ranger station the living quarters there are surrounded by tall firs.  Grandmother planted those when she brought my dad home from being born.  They're still there.

gesshots

Whenever I was a bad boy and my Mom decided to disavow my existence... She would allude - "You're a New Years Eve mistake, the product of too much Gin ! Jan. 1 to Sept 29 = 9 months !  

asop

My heritage were all farmers in central Ill.  

William81

asop said:

My heritage were all farmers in central Ill.  

I grew up in Eureka....any where near there ????

pulsarnc

Great great grandfather was Sherrifs of the county for 10 years around 1920 to 1930 or so . Stopped a riot in the courtroom by pulling his pistol and firing a round over the riot leaders head into the ceiling . Bullet hole is still visible in the courtroom ceiling , ( pressed tin ceiling )

Railroad tracks ran thru the center of the town frequently causing traffic jams when the train was “ making up “ in the yard . Various approach had been made to the railroad to take up part of the track as it would not really interfere with their work . Railroad refused . Civic leaders secretly recruited folks to do a midnight raid , taking up the tracks . Starting at midnight hey group removed the tracks and neatly stacked the rails and ties in the train yard . Grandfather contributed some confiscated whiskey to help the workers stay well lubricated as well as turning g a blind eye to it all when the railroad complained .

William81

My Great Grandfather was a Judge in South Dakota in the 30's and 40.  In those days there were no security officers assigned to the courtroom, no metal detectors or any other security.    He had an an old H&R break top in .32 S&W that he carried in little pocket in his robe.  When he passed away, my Great Grandmother kept it under her pillow until the day she moved into my Grandparent's home.    

I always knew the gun existed but had never seen it until my Grandfather asked me to look at it when I was visiting them.  It was in a  lock box and loaded.  I opened it up and the ammo was stuck and would not pop out.  I sprayed it down with WD40 and killed the primers just in case.   The ammo was green when I finally got it out....Grandpa gave it to me that day and I have enjoyed it all these years....It now resides in a shadow box along with other personal items from my Great Grandfather......

JasonV

Nanuq907 said:

My great grandfather was the first Superintendent of Yellowstone Park when the Army handed over control.  


I have a book about adventures in yellowstone during that time.The Army was chasing poachers.

Chief Shaway

https://forums.gunbroker.com/discussion/comment/11218815#Comment_11218815

I’m dead central Il.

Bethany

I don’t see Eureka as central. North to me

Both parents of my grandparents on my dads side were farmers.

My Moms side had some very sketchy individuals.

bustedknee

Granny Was a Ghost Buster

Not only the depression but all the years between the two World Wars were tough for many Americans.   Times were especially tough for the residents of the poor Appalachian region of the eastern United States.  My parents were born and reared during that period of time in that geographic location.

Granny, on my mother’s side, gave birth to eight kids in the mountains of Virginia.  Her alcoholic husband provided little to nothing toward the family upkeep and died in an auto accident while most of the children were still young.  Granny took in laundry and the older boys worked at whatever jobs they could find.  Many times, the only food on the table was what was caught in the river or hunted in the woods.  Finding a place to live was difficult as well.  Run-down shacks were abundant and many people without much income simply moved when the owner began hounding them for the rent. 

Back in those mountains, amid rumors of war, industrialization was just beginning to take hold and people flocked to the towns in hopes of landing a job in the mines, plants and mills.  Roads were scraped along the tops of ridges and rows upon rows of houses sprung up “down over the bank” in the hollows. 

Granny heard of one of those, “down over the bank” houses that was for rent, cheap, so she scraped together the first month’s rent and moved all the kids in.  She delayed telling them why the rent was so low -- it was because the house was haunted! 

A man had been shot and killed by his wife, the story went, as the man climbed the stairs to the second floor.  Apparently, he had gone to the kitchen for something in the middle of the night without lighting a lamp.  As he tiptoed up the darkened stairs, his wife awoke and retrieved a pistol.  As the dim form climbed the stairs she shot him dead.

Not only were the bloodstains still on the stairs but no amount of scrubbing would remove them -- Granny tried.  The reason no one would live in the house however, was not the tragic story nor the bloodstains.  It was the reoccurring footsteps of the dead man that could be heard every night, just after midnight.  The slow, methodical, “Thump, thump, thump,” of a man ascending the stairs would echo through the house.

While the kids hid under home-made quilts on straw tick mattresses, Granny would creep to the head of the stairs and armed only with a coal-oil lamp, declare,  “Who’s there?”   Never came a reply and the house would be silent for the rest of the night.  Not one to show fear, Granny confronted the ghost every night. She would lie awake, waiting for the footfalls and without fail, just after midnight, the ghost would climb the stairs.  A few thumps would sound and then silence.  

Granny waited downstairs one night to see if she could catch the ghost from another direction.  Sure enough, just past midnight came the “thump, thump, thumping.”  But from downstairs it appeared to Granny the footfalls were coming from outside the house!  She ran out on the stoop but all was quiet.

The next night at midnight Granny was ready.  When the ghost began his nightly climb up the stairs she flung the front door open wide.  Directly across the hollow she saw a man splitting kindling wood.

The next day, Granny visited the family in the dwelling across the hollow and learned the story.  It seems the man of the house worked the evening shift at the local paint mill.  His shift ended at midnight and he would arrive home a few minutes after that.  Before entering his house he would pause at the woodpile by the back door and split a few pieces of kindling for the morning fire so he would not have to come back out in the cool morning air. 

Granny had discovered the sound of footsteps in the haunted house.  The “whack, whack, whack,” of the old man’s hatchet carried across the hollow in the frigid night air and echoed off the side of her house.  To anyone inside the house it sounded just like footsteps.

Granny explained the ghost to all the children but swore them to secrecy so they could continue to take advantage of the reduced rent.

mohawk600

Nanuq907 said:

My great grandfather was the first Superintendent of Yellowstone Park when the Army handed over control.  His daughter was born and raised in the park, and started working as a seasonal Ranger / Naturalist.  She went off to college and upon graduation cut off her hair so she'd look like a boy, bought a Harley, and she and her friend rode it back to Yellowstone.  They arrived in a cloud of dust and fumes and stomped into the Old Faithful Lodge and said "I'm Home!" much to the chagrin of the politicians visiting from Washington DC. 
She went back to work as a seasonal Ranger and pretty soon was promoted, becoming the first full-time lady Ranger in the national park service.  My granddad was head Ranger there his whole life, probably partly because he married the Boss's daughter. 
When my dad was born they had to leave the Park boundaries, else he wouldn't be a US Citizen. 
Granddad had many duties, one was to deliver the mail around the Park in winter using 13 foot XC skis and a backpack.  The poles were 10 feet long, every other foot painted red or green, so he could measure snow depths.  Grandmother Peg was the first woman to make the 144 mile mail route in winter, camping along the way.  Grandpa said his biggest fear was falling over on those skis.  He said he'd just hang there in the snow suspended by the skis until he died, and in the spring they'd find him in a meadow somewhere with his boots and skis still on.
Grandmother had a wild streak, and would take people out on riding tours.  They were at the Paint Pots and she walked out on the crust to show the crowd how strong it was.  She broke through and went in up to her knees, just above the tops of her boots.  They called her Paint Pot Peg after that.  
Great grandparents had a house right at the base of the white calcium formations in Mammoth, and one day they saw white water coming in through the back wall of the root cellar.  It wouldn't stop, and eventually filled in the cellar.  They tore the house down but for years you could see the top of the root cellar as the stairsteps took it over.
If you visit the Tower Falls ranger station the living quarters there are surrounded by tall firs.  Grandmother planted those when she brought my dad home from being born.  They're still there.




Granddad had many duties, one was to deliver the mail around the Park in winter using 13 foot XC skis and a backpack.  The poles were 10 feet long, every other foot painted red or green, so he could measure snow depths.  Grandmother Peg was the first woman to make the 144 mile mail route in winter, camping along the way.  Grandpa said his biggest fear was falling over on those skis.  He said he'd just hang there in the snow suspended by the skis until he died, and in the spring they'd find him in a meadow somewhere with his boots and skis still on.

I had an experience like that powder skiing the back bowls of Vail after a nice snowfall............I am a good skier but I went with an instructor to "powder ski" this particular area after an impressive storm. I ended up, upside down in snow, and if I had not been with an experienced powder skier, I would have suffocated.

mohawk600

I also remember that when I mis-behaved as a young kid............my babysitter would make me go get a switch off of the crabapple tree...............ouch.

pickenup

Don't have any "old" ones.....family was never very talkative.

My brother was raised by grandma on the farm. I would stay there during the summers. One day grandma handed my brother the 22 rifle and said that there was a bat in the barn, go kill it. We proceeded out to the barn, my brother took his time aiming and finally pulled the trigger. The bat fell to the barn floor, but was still moving, so my brother shot it again.

Went back in the house to report the good news and grandma told my brother to go get himself a willow switch. (when it came time for a whoop'n, they let us pick out our own willow) With head hung low, he went and got his willow switch. I had NO IDEA why this was happening. He brought it back and proceeded to get a whoop'n.

Not wanting to make the same mistake he did (what ever that was) and get a whoop"n, I asked why did he get one.

Grandma answered...he used 2 bullets.

PS. If you get your own willow switch, get a larger one. The smaller they are, the more they hurt, and leave the worse welts.

Don't ask how I know this.

chme

Stepmom was from a religious family, SW Virginia (7th Day Adventists).  When her Mom died, she went down to clean out the house, settle up estate.  In the attic she found a trunk that had belonged to her Granny.  Whoa NELLY!
Seems that Granny had been a mail order bride.  Been married 3 times before. Had been a dance hall girl out West.  One of the items in the trunk was her gun, which I now have, along with a half box of .22 LeSmok shorts.  Gun looked like this one-

For scale- that is a 1 inch barrel.  

Nanuq907

Mom's side of the family is all Norwegian, with blue-grey eyes that change color depending on the weather, and tough as nails.  Grampa was a wreck foreman with Northern Pacific in Montana, and when an avalanche took out a train, his job was to get a crew in there, set up camp and work until the slide was cleared and the train was back on the tracks.  And we think we have it tough sometimes with our jobs.  I can't imagine.  He came home once after being gone for weeks on a wreck, my mom and her brothers had been bickering, and Grandma was at wits end.  He grabbed my mom in one hand and my uncle in the other, picked them both off the ground and held them face to face and said "make up".  They did, quickly.  There are things you just don't mess with, an angry Norwegian is one of them.

jimdeere

My mother’s folks were Allens:
https://roanoke.com/news/virginia/the-courthouse-tragedy-gunfight-in-hillsville-in-1912/article_45d0d7f3-6e1f-57c4-83be-fceb3d98dafd.html

bustedknee

Jim,  my great great great uncle was sheriff Lew Webb who was killed in the shootout.

The story I wrote, earlier in this thread was about my granny who was a Webb.  Lew was her uncle.

Who actually started the shooting has always been a mystery.

I lean towards Dexter Goad, court clerk who had purchased one of "them newfangled Colt auto-loaders" just prior to the trial.  I believe, he nervously flipped off the safety, anticipating a gunfight, then put too much pressure on the trigger.  With the resultant bang, all hell broke loose.

Since you are familiar with the story, who do you think started the shooting?

Lew's grave

bustedknee

Flying Clay Disk said:

@bustedknee - That's a great story!!  And well written too!

They're all great stories really.

Your kind words are greatly appreciated.

I love these kinds of posts!

asop

William-Robinson, Il.  I duck hunted on the East side of the river (across from Chillicothe) just off Rt. 26 for 25 years!  The Duck Inn was always in the mix.  Fun times.  

Captplaid

https://forums.gunbroker.com/discussion/comment/11219071#Comment_11219071

That's a rather backwoods part of Kentucky in Northern Illinois.

Captplaid

Grandfather took popcorn to Chicago in this truck.

Captplaid

Grandfather is the one on the right.  Willis in the center ticked off the 2 aunts to the left.  They had the sheriff put his machinery on the road.   He retired to Arizona. The youngest son of Kenneth on the left now lives in the house.

chme

Jim- Busted- small world.  The dance hall girl with the Baby Hammerless was from Meadows of Dan.  

kannoneer

Great stories, especially the ones with guns or shooting in them.   My step-grandmother on my mother's side (born in 1898) told me that she married her first husband just before he left for WW1. He was in the thick of it over there and brought back a lot of stuff. Grandma Alice hated guns and threw a fit when she found a German pistol in a black leather holster and demanded he get rid of it. They were building a new house at the time so he stuck it in the wall next to a fireplace.
The house is still standing and the gun is still in the wall. A woman has lived there since about 1970 and I told her many years ago about the gun and she said that was a good place for it. Apparently she doesn't care for guns, either.
I would like to know exactly what it is. A Luger, perhaps? My grandma said that the holster covered the gun so you could hardly see it.

Nanuq907

My Granddad on my father's side was the head Ranger in Yellowstone back in the 20s and 30s and he had to wear lots of hats.  One was Cop.  My dad told me the story once of a long cold winter, deep snow and Granddad found out about some outlaw working his way up through Wyoming and Montana apparently heading for Canada.  Granddad knew about all the illegal trapper cabins in the Park, and who was in them from time to time.  Word had it this outlaw was coming through and Granddad had a fair idea of where he'd be going.  So he'd go out on moonlit nights and sit in the treeline and watch the open meadows.

Sure enough, one night here comes a shape moving along in the moonlight, breaking trail.  Granddad let him get out in the middle of the meadow, then hollered out "I know who you are, and I know where you're going".  The guy froze, completely exposed.  I dunno if Granddad had a weak spot for these guys or if he didn't want to hold him for a week and then try to ski him out to the Park entrance, and then all the paperwork.  So he said "You can move through my Park.  Stop tonight, don't cause me any grief, and you be gone tomorrow.  Understand?"  The guy hollered back "You bet" and that was that.

I've got the trail logs of where he and my Grandmother used to go exploring on horseback, scratching out the wrong stuff on maps, and drawing in where the real creeks were, and geysers they discovered.  Those are drawn in as little "X"s on the map with a note and a date.  What a way to make a living!

Brookwood

My GG Uncles (Ransom brothers) heading for town.  I have never been able to figure out what make of tin lizzie they are riding in??

bpost

My Great Grand Father on my dad's side was a riverboat captain on the Ohio River.  One night, while tied up with other boats near Marietta Ohio, he was playing cards with other boat captains.  Well he did pretty well at cards that night and of course the drinking that went along with it.  He never made it back to his boat.  Theory is a couple of ruffians knew he was flush with money and booze, waylaid him on the way back to his boat.  The authorities figure they busted his head and tossed him into the river, never to be found.

Brookwood

My Great Grandfather was a Wisconsin State Policeman working in Superior. He died in the line of duty in 1911, at the young age of 31.   Shot while trying to apprehend a thief of a stolen bicycle!  

grdad45

My Dad (Jesse) and his family making sorghum syrup in about 1925. My Aunt colorized the pics in the '40s. Sorry for the duplicate pic, couldn't figure out how to delete it.
.

asop

Captain-I almost married a girl from Ottawa, Il.  Are you familiar with an establishment called the "Indian Acres"

Captplaid

https://forums.gunbroker.com/discussion/comment/11219563#Comment_11219563

Nope.... Indian Creek.... Indian creek massacre... But no Indian Acres.

kimi

https://forums.gunbroker.com/discussion/comment/11219442#Comment_11219442

Where was the milli located? I was fortunate enough to have had the good fortune to visit quite a few that made Ribbon Cane Syrup... that was back in the early 50s.

dok2u

Thanks for asking!  Unfortunately, not much in the way of "family stories" -- both of my parents were only children and my brother was an only child too.  I got married in 1980.  Explained to my parents that we had discussed the issue of children and both decided that we weren't going to have any.  They just looked disgusted, but didn't day anything.  Four years later they asked when we were going to have some children.  Once again, I explained that it wasn't going to happen.  Their response was: "You have to choose between her and us!"  I chose her.  Within weeks a lawyer sent me some papers explaining that my parents had legally disowned me.  I only saw them at a couple of funerals of friends and very, very distant family members after that.  Still haven't decided whether to take money out of my pocket to have their death dates put on their grave stones. 

dreher

I am sure my great grandmother told me the date.  I am also sure she mentioned the day of the week and what time this event happened.  My great grandmother was just about the smartest person I ever met.  She would remember things in detail that happened 50 + years ago like it was yesterday.   

They lived on a farm in NE Indiana.  The eastern edge of the farm was the Indiana, Ohio line.  One summer day they heard an automobile coming down the road.  I will guess that mufflers weren't in use than!  Once they heard the auto both of my great grandparents and all five kids ran to get to the front gate where they all jumped up on the gate to watch the first automobile ever to drive down their road.  They were all awed to have seen such a sight!!

She told me this story shortly after the moonwalk when I was visiting her at her house in town as her second son now lived on the family farm.  She then said that seeing that first car by their house was really special.  She added I can't believe I lived so long I got to watch men walk on the moon.   From driving your horse and buggy to town to seeing the moonwalk on your TV truly spans an incredible era!! 

jimdeere

“....  and my brother was an only child too.“ ?????

grdad45

kimi said:

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Where was the milli located? I was fortunate enough to have had the good fortune to visit quite a few that made Ribbon Cane Syrup... that was back in the early 50s.

About ten miles East of Texarkana, AR. My Grandfather made some of the best 'shine in the area in addition to the syrup. Dad and Uncle Millard ran the still while Poppa worked the fields.