Besides dad's genealogical attaché case holding weird and random things, it also did hold some interesting paperwork related to my family. Things I'd never seen before. Things I'm sure he's forgotten about since I just sent off my for paternal grandfathers' DD 214 (service records and discharge papers) and there they are in the photo above. Oh well. But there's tangible paper evidence of some family stories contained within the things I found, so I find that absolutely fascinating that I can say, "Yes, that did actually happen" with clear certainty now. This isn't the first time I have seen a birth certificate of this nature, but it's the first time I've ever seen the birth certificate for my paternal grandmother. I remember the first time seeing one like this, I believe it was my dad's or The Sister's and I thought it was so cool looking, as mine is all white with a fancy blue border and such, and well I just find mine to be boring. But this black copy is just really cool looking. And all of the information that has been related to me my entire life is here in literal black and white. It's difficult to read so I've give some basics.
My grandmother always hated her middle name of Jo. Absolutely hated it. But, I got her to tell me once when I was about 10 or 11 what the J stood for on a pendant that she wore. She said the name with some venom behind it like it was the worst word in the history of ever, "Jo! And I hate it too. And don't tell anyone either." But there's nothing that I did not really know on this birth certificate. You never know what might be the same as stories or not. My maternal grandmother always went by Katherine, stating her full name was Mary Katherine, but her birth certificate, looking just like this one is written as Catherine. My mom likes to think that her adoptive mom just lied about the spelling of Katherine, but I'm sure who ever wrote up the certificate just put a C. It was still interesting to see the handwriting of who ever wrote it up and that they put a C instead of a K. And with this one it's interesting to see the county and township where my grandmother was born and the ages of her parents at the time of her birth. Those things I didn't know or remember, because while it might have been mentioned her family, as well as my paternal grandfathers family, moved around a lot. Both were sharecroppers and went where ever they were hired to work. And I had heard that my great grandmothers' first child had died as an infant and here's proof, so that's cool too. Not that she died, just that there's something to back it up. I would have believed it coming from one of the oldest siblings, but it was always younger siblings born 15 years after the first one or even my dads sister saying it. To me that's not definitive, but this is. Next up is a copy of my paternal grandparents' marriage certificate. There's a front and back so the print is small, so I'll do what I did above.
So, I knew my grandparents were married, obviously, and I also knew that their anniversary was 18 May, but I did not know that the year was 1944 or that it was when they were living in Lake Village, so that's cool. Also Chicot is pronounced chee-koh, not chih-kot. And ah-ha! That's just what I was talking about with my maternal grandmother with the Katherine/Catherine thing. My paternal grandmothers birth certificate says Betty, which is what she used, but the person filling out her marriage certificate noted it as Bettie. This is my paternal grandfathers' DD 214, or service record and discharge papers. There's actually four papers stapled together, but I'll just hit the highlights, not including this certificate as it is clearly legible.
There's a lot of really cool things here. I knew he had an 8th grade education, having to leave school to help his family out, but I didn't know the year or the name of the school. Though I've never seen his birth certificate and he didn't really know when his birthday was (he said as much), he always said it was 14. February 1921 and that is also what is on his headstone in the cemetery, yet the military has it a day and one year a head. I was just having a discussion on the colour of his eyes, because The Sister and I couldn't remember. Dad didn't know either. The US government deemed them as blue, so that's good enough for me. It's also interesting to know his height and weight. And all of the information about his work before the war. I'd always heard my dad talk about how his dad would talk about 18 wheelers and the safety precautions to take when driving near them (don't get too close behind them, blind spots, wide turns, don't cut in front of them) and the reasons for them; which my dad, in turn, told to us. Now I know why he knew all of that. It was his job. And that he was hauling country things like cotton and corn and livestock. It makes sense, but I never would have thought about it. I only ever heard that he was a mechanic in the army and then a mechanic for Haliburton after the war. If this lists all of the places he went, then here is proof that he did not spend time at Camp Van Dorn in Mississippi, so dad was mistaken about that. Both camps were in Arkansas and then time spent in Europe and Bermuda. Which, I never knew he spent time in Bermuda with the Army. Technically, that's not true. It is true that I never heard he spent military time in Bermuda and did not know this, until researching for the post on Camp Van Dorn last month. The back of that photo is written, "In Bermuda" and that is when I either turned the photo over for the first time or actually bothered to read the writing on the back. So yes, that's the man this military information (and the marriage certificate) is all about. My grandfather whom I was really close too. He didn't talk military things with me and barely did with my dad; even though my dad pestered him about it while growing it. It was too painful for my grandfather to remember. The only stories that I heard from my dad, via his dad, were these. When my dad asked his dad if he'd killed anyone in the war my grandfather looked sad and never would answer. In Germany, he was in the middle of fighting and saw this young German boy who was scared. He kept saying "Kommen sie heir" and gesturing with his hand for the boy to come to him. The boy was scared and didn't want to move, but he also didn't want to be in the fighting or shooting people either as he was just sitting there. My grandfather kept calling to him and gesturing. The boy started to come to him and someone else ran through and shot the boy dead. My grandfather only spoke of that once to my father and my dad said he could tell that it pained him greatly. The other is that my grandfather brought back a Nazi medal and two Reich coins, which my dad gave to The Sister and I. My dad said his father had found them on a dead Nazi and that's about all there is to that story. It feels creepy to have them, but we haven't gotten rid of them either. I took one coin and the medal and have them in a small pink silk Chinese jewelry bag, separated but in with all of my foreign currency collection and far away from where I sleep or will constantly be touching it by rummaging through drawers I get into often. The Sister has hers hidden away as well. Other than that it's just being a mechanic in the Army and my grandmother relating how "Merrell was walking down the street and someone snapped his photo" which is the one on the right up there. It was somewhere in Europe, but she didn't know where. And also that he'd been called out to fix some vehicles and found himself in battle, the Battle of the Bulge to be precise; which is Ardennes on the DD 214 form. It's said my grandfather was not happy about this, but had to take up a rifle and start actively being in the war. To have it stated which campaigns he was in, what organization he was part of, his duties, and his medals, even his mustering out pay is all really fascinating and informative. It's also especially cool that he was upgrade to Tec 4 on my birthday, 18 September; though of course it would not be my birthday for another 38 years. Heck, even my own father wouldn't be born for another six years. Now onto some seedier family history, stories that were told, but now turn out to be true because of tangible legal documents. My grandfather never talked about his family, though on one occasion we all went to a Roberts family reunion, and while he did take his kids to see his family, he still did not talk about the one's who died; almost like it was taboo or something. So we have Carolyn Roberts. I'd heard of her, that she was a twin to, I believe, Opal, and that she had been put away into a mental institution because she had epilepsy and died there at a young age. The only thing I can verify to be true is that she was a twin. I also know she died before 1980 because my grandfather didn't go off and visit her like other siblings after I was born. And there's no story of him (or the rest of my family) trooping off for her funeral before I was born like they did with my grandfathers younger brother Check. Nor was it mentioned that there were visits to her house when my dad and his siblings were younger like other of my grandfathers siblings (Roma Lee, Clarene, Ruby, John, or Check) Unless there was just a lot of error on the part of my aunt's genealogical hunting, then this death certificate, however, belongs to someone else entirely. I don't know who first told the story, if it was my aunt and this is where she received her information then I have to wonder about her genealogy skills. First off, the birth certificate lists JF Roberts and Nannie Garrett as the parents, which is correct, that I do know. It lists the place of birth as Morrilton, Wilburn, Conway Co., Arkansas. OK. It lists her as the 2nd born child, so that's twin and the birthdate is 28. February 1923. The death certificate lists a Caline Roberts born on 28. February 1923 to a Jim Roberts and a Minnie Maden, and that the place of birth was Portland, Arkansas. OK, let's do a little work here. It's plausible that someone wrote down (or even called her that in the state hospital) Caline instead of Carolyn. Jim is short for James. It's the same birthdate. How close is Portland to Morrilton, though? If it's in the same county or even close but in different counties, I could see how either parent could say it's either one. I mean, they couldn't ever decide on my grandfathers' actual birthdate after all. However, the Minnie Maden is a really weird red flag that this is probably in no way one of our Roberts'. Also with the other two certificates that I have, my great grandfather is listed as either JF or James F., and never Jim, so that's awkward. Why would he be Jim on this one? I'd have to see other documents of his other children to see if everything is correct except they list him as Jim Roberts, for me to even concede this as a normal occurrence. And checking on the birth places. Morrilton is in Central Arkansas and even if it was near a border, Portland is not. Portland is in the Lower Delta and pretty much across the Miss River from Greenville, Mississippi. My grandparents wouldn't get those places confused. So, until I can find further evidence, I have to treat this death certificate as some other Roberts girl who died a sad death and not a relative to me. However, I can count the birth certificate so the faerie story of twins running in the family is true, as here a doctor is stating there were twins. This next faerie story turns out to be entirely true as I have the death certificate and two newspaper articles covering the affair which is cool. It's cool that I have the evidence and now how Marcus went down, obviously. It was always told that his friend has laced his own drink with poison, but that Marcus drank it on accident and died from it. It was also mentioned that Marcus was "good lookin'" and so young, which somehow that made it more of a shame, I suppose? So the pertinent and interesting information from the death certificate are as follows.
Here it is in all it's gory statistical detailings. The death of a family member that I never knew and a tragic one at that. Looking up Hydrocynic acid and specifically death by Hydrocynic acid poisoning reveals a tragic and painful way to go. It is also referred to as cyanhydric, prussic acid, and hydrogen cyanide; and if you wish to know what my great uncle's death was like (because I did need to know), here ya go. It's OK to know, just, it is a violent way to go, so I'll spare the details in this post and instead I'm linking to it there (no photos, only words). These are the two photocopies from two newspapers. The person who found and made the copies neglected to actually copy or even state which newspaper or newspapers these originally came from much less the issues, or even dates. I'm sure they were a newspaper(s) from Arkansas and obviously sometimes immediately after 14. May 1934, but I do not know for certain, since someone didn't feel that was important enough. *grumbles* Anyways, here goes. The first italicized portion is the article on the left and the second is the one on the right with some photo of a woman. Testimony of (....) today (....) Army and Navy General Hospital (....) is expected to throw a new light on the strange drinking episode that claimed the lives early yesterday morning of two enlisted men of the hospital corps. The dead are Marcus B. Roberts, 22, of England, Ark. and John (....) Johnston, (37?) of Atkins, both of whom died after attending a party Sunday night. The most important witness is Mrs. Linnie Bumpass of 318 Spring Street, where the party took place. Mrs. Bumpass was arrested by police yesterday on a charge of running a disorderly house, but was later released under $250 bond. She told newspaper men that Johnston came to her house early Sunday evening and asked for two glasses which he filled from a flask he brought with him. Mrs. Bumpass said Johnston tried to induce her and one or two other persons to drink with him, but that they refused. Roberts arrived later, she said, and Johnston invited him to have a drink. The woman said Roberts asked for a larger glass into which he emptied the contents of the two glasses Johnston had filled, and proceeded to take the drink. The moment he swallowed the liquor Roberts fell to the floor and went into convulsions according to the woman. She said Johnston called a cab and took him to the hospital and returned later and told her Roberts was dead. Mrs. Bumpass said Johnston told her he had made an affidavit to the effect that he had found Roberts in an unconscious condition on a downtown street and that if any investigation was made her wanted her to say that Roberts had not been at her place. The woman said she refused his request and said she would tell the truth. Mrs. Bumpass said Johnston had been at her places two times previously Sunday and appeared to be despondent. She said that on two occasions he asked for pen and paper and that he wrote some notes. These are in the possesion of the Army and Navy hospital authorities. Johnston died at the hospital at 8:30 o'clock yesterday morning. A third soldier, Sergeant Arthur F. Pixley of Centerville, Iowa, was also being treated for supposed effects of poisoned liquor, although his condition is not serious. Some of the liquor consumed by Johnston and Roberts is said to have been found on one of the men and it is being analyzed. Autopsies were preformed on the bodies of the men, but the results were not made known last night. Roberts was the son of James Roberts of England, and had been in the service for about a year. Johnston had been stationed here for the past six years and had previously served in the navy. He is survived by a sister, Mrs. Lucy M. Cheek of Atkins. The military board will resume its inquiry at 10:30 this morning. One of soldiers had threatened to commit suicide Lieut. Col. William B. Meister (....) of an army board of inquiry which has been investigating the deaths early Monday of two enlisted men in the Army and Navy General hospital corps. stated last night that the men died from salt of dydra-cynanide acid taken in whiskey. Evidence obtained by the board of inquiry, Lieut. Col. Meister said revealed that Private John L. Johnston, 37, of England, had swallowed a draught of the fatal poison in his quarters several hours after Private Marcus Roberts, 21, of Atkins, had died from drinking a like potion. Mrs. Linnie Bumpass at whose home Roberts took the fatal drink testified that Johnston had filled two glasses from a flash he brought with him, and invited Roberts to have a drink. Roberts poured the contents of both glasses into a larger glass, she said, and drank the liquor. He died within five minutes. Leiut. Col. Meister said testimony offered at the hearing tended to show that Johnston had been despondent for some time because of trouble with his sweetheart, and had threatened suicide. An analysis of sediment in pieces of broken glass found in Johnston's room revealed the presence of the cyanide poisoning, the officer said Johnston was a laboratory assistant and had access to the poison according to Colonel Meister. Col. Meister said the board of inquiry's investigation would be closed as soon as typewritten reports of the autopsy and analysis could be appended to his report which will require 10 days or two weeks. Most of the articles didn't copy well so some is too garbled to make out and thus type here. I left in all typos, and put them in bold, which are in the second article. My great uncle, Marcus was from England Arkansas, as stated by the first article as well as the death certificate, and Johnston was from Atkins as per the first article. The journalist of the second article apparently mixed that bit of information up as I'm certain a Lieutenant Colonel in the Army wouldn't do such a thing. And the type editor added an H instead a K for the word flask.
So basically some guy is having troubles with a woman, and has access to chemicals in the lab and wants to kill himself, but he apparently doesn't want to die alone, so someone's going to drink with him... because of a woman. While it's sad that my great uncle died, and in such a manner, and he probably would have died anyone from just one glass, I can't help but think how arrogant he was; how self important he saw himself (or how little he thought of the person offering the drink) to be so bold as to steal the other mans drink all for himself. What a jerk move! Perhaps him being good looking is true. He didn't take up farming or a farm type job like the other members of his family. No, he was in the military. That's considered a step up from labour. Perhaps he did think he was better than others because he was sooo good looking and was making something of himself? Why in hell would a person steal another persons drink like that? I'm thinking, since my dad's older sister has made herself the family historian, that she collected this information on one of her many trips to Arkansas for genealogical work. I do know it was her relating the tale of Marcus' death and of Carolyn's misfortune in the mental institute (which is quite possibly not even true!). But not once did she mention how arrogant it was on his part to take all the drinks for himself. No, she could only see it as sad, and that he was a victim and basically Johnston was evil. I don't think Johnston was evil, he was just stupid and possibly also imbalanced as in really suffering from depression. Some people have troubles with women and are sad and that's that. Some people have troubles with women and if they have a proclivity towards severe depression, then well, they'll probably end up dead because of it. I don't really pity Johnston, but I don't hate him either. How could I hate someone for killing someone I never even met or knew. My aunt never even met or knew her uncle Marcus either, but she hates this Johnston guy. It doesn't even matter to me the closer proximity. This is her dad's brother, where it's my grandfathers brother. If it had been tales of dad's older sister being murdered and it was the same story, well I wouldn't hate the guy because I didn't know my dad's older sister at all. It would be a shame she'd been killed, but I still wouldn't waste time on hating this guy or brooding over how evil he was. Now it'd be different if it was a different affair all together. Like my relative was tortured and beaten and all sorts of horrible things, then I probably would think the killer was evil, but I still didn't know them so I wouldn't waste time brooding about it or hating the person. It would just give me the heeby jeebies and I wouldn't want to think much on it to be honest. This is the only instance of murder I have ever heard of in my biological family and it turns out that it's true. There is another story of murder, but it is through the maternal line of the people that adopted my mother. I do count this woman as my grandmother (I didn't know my mom's adopted father, so I don't count him), but her family isn't my family by blood; I didn't know them, so it would feel weird to count them. However, her great aunt was reportedly murdered. It's a short story without details. "She moved to California and was murdered." Was she really? Or did she just cease communications with her family back home in Ohio? It happened a lot. Mom's adopted dad had a story of death like this (though not murder), where uncle so and so went out west and was killed by bears. Turns out he didn't, as mom found his grandson through searching out members of that family. That uncle had moved out west, stopped communications with his family back home, had a family of his own and died at an old age. That family has been living out west ever since. And that story of "death by bears" or "death by Indians" isn't the only one floating around out there for lots of families. That'll be a family faerie story and a later generation will find out that it's not true at all. So, I couldn't tell you anything about the supposed murder of Aunt Jo on my adopted grandmothers side, but I can now officially tell you about the real murder of my Great Uncle Marcus Roberts. And that concludes all of the fascinating paperwork that I found on my dad's family in that attaché case.
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AuthorA girl from South Mississippi who finds herself in exploration. Archives
November 2019
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