Madness Monday - "Aunt Nancy"

Madness Monday

"Aunt Nancy"

"Dad, can we still get over into the old Bean cemetery?", I asked him my favorite man in the whole wide world.

"Yes, they can't stop us from going into the cemetery," he answered. "But, they won't let us put up a fence around it to protect it, or even put a sign up at the road so everyone will know where it's at," he added.

I went on to remark that in another 20-30 years, no one will be alive to even know where it is, unless one of the young generation picks up the mantle from me before I die. Dad's turns 80 this year. And I'm sniffing the heels of the big "6-0". So, 30 years from now, there's likely to be no one left to even know the cemetery is a cemetery.

My last visit there was probably about 8 years ago, when some "cousins" (2nd cousins 4 times removed) came to our reunion. Dad and I spent the day taking them around Monroe County to the various places we thought they would enjoy seeing that the family had been involved in. One was where our original Bean family member was buried.

The cemetery is little more than depressions in the ground, with broken slabs and rocks marking the graves. Trees have sprouted through the center of some of the graves. Great huge trees. And in some  places you can literally fall into a grave if you are not careful. (Just ask my Uncle Jack, who stepped onto a mossy area, and found himself hip deep in a rotted wooden coffin. A few leg bones were all that was left of what had been a family member.

The cemetery dates back at least to 1856, and there may have been a grave or two prior to that. No one knows for sure.

The broken slabs and rocks that mark one end of the graves (about 31 can be clearly defined) have only one stone with any carving on it. The carved letter "C" can be found on one. We know that the family was buried inside of what once had been a fenced cemetery. While everyone had told me, prior to my first visit, that you could not know where that was, and no one living knew where the fence had been, I proved them wrong. For I found the rotted, wooden fence posts that marked the cemetery perimeter, and in places, the fence, still stapled with fence staples, to some of the huge trees. I was able to walk the cemetery perimeter. Family legend says that the family members were buried inside that fence perimeter. And that slaves had been buried (all except for two) just on the outside of the fence.

We can easily determine 13 of the interior graves. We just don't know which of the 13 known people buried there, are in the marked graves. Neither do we know which slaves were buried on the exterior surroundings of the cemetery. Again, we know of a finite number.

"Dad, as far as I can tell, the first grave in the cemetery is Aunt Nancy's," I said.

Dad, is the living history of our family. You see, his father, my grandfather, was born in 1866. No, you read that right. My Dad's father, my grandfather, was born in 1866. The year after the Civil War had ended. Quick run down. Grandpa was born in December of 1866. Twenty months after the Civil War had come to a conclusion. He was born in Cincinnati, Ohio, where his Mother (my great-grandmother) had fled to with four of her very small children in an oxen covered wagon, to be with her spouse, my great-grandfather. (That's a story for another day, however.) Grandpa didn't marry the first time until toward the end of the 19th century, when he was nearly 30. Unfortunately, and rather sadly, this first wife died with tuberculosis, leave Grandpa with 2 small children, and one very newborn child. A very short time later, Grandpa married again. This time, the two were married nearly 20 years, when this wife gave birth to her 9th child with him. She had toxemia, which is a condition not uncommon today with women who do note receive pre-natal care. This was 1929. And again, Grandpa was left with very young children, and a newborn baby. The children were now 12 in number (that number included 3 children who died due to tuberculosis and whooping cough). Grandpa was now widowed twice. And in 1935, he married for the last time. This time to my Grandmother, who was almost 40 (b.1897). In 1937 she gave birth to a baby boy. My Dad. Two years later to another baby boy, when she was 41, and Grandpa was 73. And 4 years later, to another baby boy (Grandma was 46, and Grandpa was 87 on the birth of the youngest!) All in all, Grandpa fathered 15 children. He outlived 4 of his children, and two of his wives.

So, while my Dad's formative years were spent with an aging father, he was the absorbent sponge, who sat at his father's knee, and listened to the phantasmagorical stories the elderly man had to tell of family history. And for the most part, Dad has been spot on with documentation I have been able to locate on the family!

"No, Nancy's not buried in the Bean cemetery!", he corrected me. "She's buried over at Hollywood, in the old Bruffey Memorial Cemetery. Remember? The cemetery and church are named after her family, the Bruffey's!" he corrected.

"No, Dad, Nancy never got married. She was home with her family when she died." (I was pretty sure I was correct on this one.)

"No, honey, remember, she was the one who died from hemorrhoids? Dad always said he really loved Aunt Nancy. And she suffered horrible before she died!"

"Dad, your Dad couldn't have known Nancy! Nancy died in 1856, ten years before your Dad was even born!"

"No, honey! I know I'm right about this!", he insisted.

Since I was on the phone with him, I just trotted into my little office, and fired up the old computer.

"Hang on Dad," I said, "I'm going to look it up on the computer."

I quickly went to Aunt Nancy's information.

Dad waited patiently while my computer booted up, and I went into my FTM program.

"Here she is, Daddy! She was born either 1815 or 1816 (the year is not specific in the birth register). And she died on October 11th, 1856," I said, rather proudly that for once I was able to prove him wrong. "And she's buried in the Bean cemetery. She died from a 'fever'," I said, "and your great-grandma died on Novembr 7th, just a few weeks after her. Her death is listed as a stroke, but I always wondered if she got whatever 'fever' Nancy had and died from complications of that."

"Well, I don't know where you got that information, Sissy, (my Dad uses the term Sissy for myself and my younger sister, interchangeably), but she's buried over at Hollywood. That much I know for a fact. I've seen her grave there myself."

"Dad, are we talking about the same Nancy?" I queried, suddenly the distinction hitting me.

"Well, now, you know, you might have something there. I think I'm talking about my Grandma's sister, aren't I? And you're talking about my Grandpa's sister! Well, ya know, I reckon we were both right!" he exclaimed. Both of us relieved we didn't have to say, "I told you so!" to the other. Or even more relieved the dreaded, "I guess you were right and I was wrong!" didn't have to be said!

"I was talking about Nancy Perkins, wasn't I?" Dad remarked. "And I was talking about Nancy Bean," I said.

"Well, yeah, I reckon Nancy Bean is the earliest known grave we know of in the Bean Cemetery," he concluded. "And my Grandma would've been the next one to be buried in the cemetery."

"Say, you remember that 2 of the slaves were buried in the front yard of the old house, don't you?" he asked.

"Yes, I do, Dad," I said. "But neither you, nor I, are gonna tell the owners where that is, are we?" I asked. (Well, they know now, as I've written about it in the family newsletter several times. Their graves, or rather, grave, was in the south-eastern corner of the front yard, beneath what had become a HUGE Rose of Sharon shrub.  My gr-gr-grandmother had planted the shrub so that no one would ever disturb their remains. The two slaves were elderly, and married to one another. One cold winter, in 1855, the two got pneumonia, and died within hours of one another. The ground being frozen, the only place soft enough to dig up was in the south-eastern corner of the front yard. A single grave, and the couple wrapped in a couple of quilts, together.) So gr-gr-grandma had allowed the men to bury the couple there, with the understanding that come spring they would be moved over to the cemetery, which is on a knoll across what had once been a farmed field, and overlooking the house gr-gr-grandpa had built for his wife. Well, spring came. The ground thawed. And planting time came upon the farm. And everyone was busy with crops and newborn farm animals. And before you knew it, summer was upon them. Gr-gr-grandma was a shrewd woman. She knew the menfolk wouldn't get the grave moved. So, to prevent anyone in the future from accidentally digging up the grave, she planted a new Rose-of-Sharon shrub on the top of the grave. And about ten years or so ago, the owners of the place cut down the shrub, and made a wide, modern drive into the property. And it passes directly over the place where the slave couple were buried. Their bones long ago turning to dust, there wasn't anything to find from the last 160 years, I am sure. So they didn't know that they placed a drive over a double grave. And although I've seen the owners a few times, I've never had the heart to say anything to them.

And so, I answered Dad, "Yes, I remember Dad!"

And so, Nancy Bean, born in either 1815 or 1816, died 11 October 1856, and was, what we believe, the first person buried in the cemetery. Her mother followed just 3 weeks later.

On September 18, 2000, 208 years after the birth of my gr-gr-grandfather, on his birthdate, a group of men in our family gathered together at the cemetery and placed a modern tombstone commemorating my gr-gr-grandparents.

The front of the stone, with my gr-gr-grandparents names, and birth and death dates.

The back of the stone, commemorating our tie to the Clan MacBean.

We are proud to be included in the Clan's registry, although there has never been any proof that we are connected.

Unfortunately, we are what is called an "orphan line", meaning, that no one knows how we got the surname BEAN. And even DNA has not tied to us any other Bean line (or its many variants of spelling!). But the Clan MacBean has generously "adopted" us And for that we are grateful. It gives us a sense of belonging. However, this Scot clan, may not be even a far reaching ancestral line, as we once thought. It seems the Irish genes are way more definitive than the Scot genes. And before the Scot genes, a close second to the Irish genes are the English ones!

Nancy Morgan Bruffey - nee Perkins (1815-1892), my gr-grandmother's sister, (Margaret Smith Bean - nee Perkins), is buried at what is now called the Hollywood Cemetery in Hollywood, Monroe County, WV. She was married to George Washington Bruffey (b. 1815 in Virginia). And she did, indeed die from a severe infection of hemorrhoids. (I can only imagine the pain that must have been!) The cemetery was, indeed, once called the Bruffey Cemetery. The Bruffey Memorial Church continues to operate there. While I haven't been there to document stones, I am unable to tell whether she has a marked grave or not. Dad says he was there once with his Dad, when he was a young boy, and used to know just which grave was hers. He thinks it is toward the top of the hill. Perhaps I will get over there soon, and document the cemetery.

Don't give up when you and someone else are certain you are correct about a bit of family legend. As seen from this, you could BOTH actually be correct!  Make sure you can argue your stance before you wade into that pool, as some people can get very defensive regarding the family tree! ("I know what I know! So stop being a blamed fool and listen to me!") Be able to back up your argument! And be willing to listen to what the other person has to say. Again, as seen from our little tete a tete, you could actually both be correct! Just talking about two different individuals!

Have you ever knocked noggins with someone because you knew your recollections were correct, and the other persons weren't? If so, tell us how you settled it! We'd love to hear from you!

Tombstone Tuesday - The Bean Cemetery

 The Bean Cemetery is located near Waiteville, Monroe County, West Virginia. It is here that my oldest American ancestors in the Bean family are layed to rest. There isn't a lot to see. And we have no idea, at this time, which grave belongs to which person.

There is a single modern day stone, which was placed a few years ago. The Clan MacBean crest is on one side.

On this side are memorials to our eldest Bean ancestor, William. He was born in 1792 and died in 1864. And his wife, Rachel, born 1790 and died 1856.

The remainder of the stones are just that. Stones. Large stones were placed at the head of the graves. If names were ever engraved upon them, we no longer can find them. There may be engravings below the top of the soil, where both the graves and the stones have sunk. (A few years ago my uncle was walking in the cemetery and stepped into a hole. He had gone through a grave. The top soil was thin, and the coffin had rotted away. (I think I might have had nightmares about that!)

On this lone stone we can just make out the letter "C". Unfortunately, there is no record of anyone with a name with the letter "C" being buried there.

The other stones follow:

We do know that at one time, there had been an ornate cast fence around the cemetery. When it rusted away, someone put a wire fence around it. Here you see an old rotted fence post marking a corner of the cemetery. If you look closely, you can see the wire still attached to the post.

And here, is a fencepost still standing. We are peeking through the fence into the forest in this photograph.

It is said that there are several slaves who died and were buried on the outside of the fence. I walked about the outside edge, and was unable to locate any stones that resembled the stones in the cemetery. So, if they were buried on the outside of the fence, their graves were probably never marked.

According to what documentation we have regarding the burials at the cemetery, we know that Rachel, and their daughter Nancy, died within a few weeks of one another from a fever, and are buried there. (They have been the first burials there besides slaves.) William is buried there.

It is believed that William and Rachel's daughter, Emily and her husband Thomas Long are both buried there. Their son, William Long, may also be buried there, as he died prior to his parents and had never married. William and Rachel had a daughter named Margaret, whose daughter, Sarah Eakins died in 1856, and she, too, may be buried here. William and Rachel's daughter, Margaret, may have been buried here when she died after the Census in 1880. Her husband predeceased her, and he, too, may lie here. William and Rachel's son Archibald's first wife, Amanda, is buried here. Another grandchild, Virinda C. Bean, daughter of William Jr. died in 1857, and she may also be buried here. A slave named William (Bean) is buried here, supposedly on the exterior of the fence line. In 1883, an 11-day old infant, with the initials B.M. was buried here. It is suspected he was illegitimate, and belonged to one of the grandchildren.

It is suspected that at least 13 graves are here. 9 with stones.

There are two slaves who were buried across the field and road in front of the house. One winter when the ground was frozen solid, prior to Rachel's death, 2 slaves, who were husband and wife, died just a few hours apart with "fever". They were buried wrapped in quilts, because the ground could not be dug deep enough for coffins. And because there had not been a cemetery yet, Rachel agreed to bury them to the left of the house (facing the house). That spring, William reportedly stated that he hated to move the couple. They were lying together, and it would be so messy to move them as their corpses would have just begun to deteriorate. He agreed to move them to the cemetery William intended to ready for his own demise one day in the next year. The next year, William, who suffered from gout, did not want to move them now. They had been gone for 2 years at this point. Rachel, wanted their graves marked, so as to never be disturbed. William was opposed to stones being placed in his front yard marking the graves of his slaves. Rachel compromised by planting two rose of sharon bushes on the grave. Over the years, the two bushes intertwined, and looked like one huge bush. It had the most beautiful scented pink and purple flowers. It was still there in 2007. Unfortunately, the owners of the property removed the bushes by 2008, and a gravel drive is over the area now.

The cemetery is on a knoll, just inside the forest, which at the time is was conceived, was a huge field. A field continues to be just outside of the cemetery, next to the road that dissects the field from the old house. One look and you can see why old William chose the spot for the cemetery. The house is literally framed by the mountains that surround it. And it's one of the most lush views I have ever seen.

In May, on Memorial weekend, I will be making my annual trek across the field, and just into the forest, to pay my respects to William and Rachel and all of the others who lie there, by placing flowers in front of the William & Rachel memorial stone. Although I never knew them, as they died nearly two hundred years ago, I feel them intimately when I am there. And I sometimes wonder, what would they think if they knew how diligently I searched for even the tiniest scrap of information on them?

I hope that I honor them in my stories and my writing. I was born 94 years after William was buried here. And yet, I feel as if I have known him personally. I can tell you stories  about him, and Rachel. And most of their children as well! (There were 13 children.) But more importantly, I know so many intimate details regarding their lives.

What do you know about your great-great-grandparents? Could you write even one detail about their lives? If not, are you searching for information?

Remember, Mountain Genealogists is here to help if you need it!

Tombstone Tuesday

This is the story about the cemetery and tombstones nearly forgotten in the woods. It is the story of my great-great-grandparents, William and Rachel Wiseman Bean.

The Bean Cemetery is located near the tiny hamlet of Waiteville, WV. In order to reach this little burial place, one must park their car on the edge of the one lane road and hike across a wide open field to a dense stand of trees and woods. It is here that you will find William and Rachel's final resting place.





















For over 100-years the little cemetery sat. It's tombstones slowly deteriorating and breaking away with decay and disrepair. Until 10-years ago when the family placed this new memorial tombstone for our ancestors.

We know there are several more buried here, as evidenced by the broken stones that remain.












On Sunday, August 9th, I visited this tiny little cemetery for the first time.

I photographed 10 stone markers. And I counted 11 mounds and depressions that were indicative of grave sites.

I located pieces of the old wire fence that once surrounded the cemetery, as well as the rotting fence posts that have long ago fallen over and are swiftly becoming a part of the forest floor.

The cemetery was covered in small trees that have grown there since my Dad was a boy. He recalled the open area then, with a few large trees surrounding the graves. Now trees grow right through the grave sites.

I saw deer scat, and counted 4 squirels scampering through the trees while we were there.

Standing on the hill, as I looked to the south, I could clearly see the old homestead. I could see why my great-grandparents would want to be buried here. Overlooking their beautiful log home.

No one alive today knows who is buried in which grave. And, as I have stated, the 10-grave stones that remain are worn with time and if there was ever any engraving on them, it is lost to time. Still, we do know that William and Rachel are buried here. Rachel died in November of 1856, less than a month after her daughter Nancy, both with a fever of unknown origin. Son Archibald's first wife, Amanda died in this area, and was buried here, about 1852. Daughter Emily, and her husband, Thomas, [d. 1889 and d. 1888 respectively] are also believed to be buried here. And William is buried here [d. 1864]. I can also account for 3-slaves who were buried here as well.

This is a beautiful spot.

The property has long ago left family hands, and is now owned by a hunters co-op. They will not allow us to do any more improvements on the cemetery. That includes a protective fence.

My heart breaks that one day, no one will know where this little slice of history is at. The forest will either encroach completely. Or the property sold yet again.

It is the protectiveness within me that despairs. These loved ones are my past. They are my core. And I am helpless to protect their final resting place. I despair that the family let this land slip from them.

As I stand here, breathing in the warm summer air, from this mountain side, I feel at home. So at home.

I speak to William and Rachel now. "Rest in peace. Know that your future continues with the family. We are growing. And we are stronger than ever. Rest. Rest in peace."