Generations Revisited: Ewell Vanderbilt King - Lumberjack and Sheriff of Harlan County

 

This post is part of a series that I’m writing to explore topics that were covered in Generations: An American Family. Some posts will tie up loose ends like the one I wrote about our connections to Henry and Marcellus Clay and some will take a deeper dive into subjects that only got a superficial treatment in the book. 

Any mentions of John, will reference John Egerton, the author of the book. Everyone who remembers being around at the time that the book was being written knows that John became a member of the family and, as such, we always refer to him by his first name.

If you’re wondering why I bother, there are a few reasons. First, I love to solve a good mystery! Second, we have access to online records today that John could have only dreamed about in the late 1970’s and early 1980’s. I can access files from my laptop that John could have only seen by visiting a county courthouse. Third, I am constantly fascinated by how often the records that I find serve to reinforce rather than refute the recollections of C.B. and Addie. I often find myself wishing that I could sit with them and show them the proof of the narrative histories that they carried with them. Finally, this is my family and I am passionate about uncovering as many stories as I can about them.

This post turns our attention to Ewell Vanderbilt King, Addie King Ledford’s father. According to Addie: 

“Most of my father's people, the Kings and Hensleys, lived in the upper end of Harlan County, across Little Black Mountain on Clover Fork. My father was Ewell Van King-signed his name E.V. King. His name might have been Ewell Vanderbilt-I know there was some people in Harlan County before him who had that name-but but I don't know how they came to have it or whether he was kin to them. My father was born on Britton Creek in 1858. Britton is a branch of Yocum Creek, and Yocum runs into Clover Fork there at Evans. His parents were Alva Byrd King and Rhoda Hensley, and both of their families lived on Britton, farmed there.”

John Egerton. Generations: An American Family (Kindle Locations 496-499). Kindle Edition. 

In the 1860, 1870, and 1880 census records, Addie’s father was listed as Ewell. After that, his name always appears in the public record as E.V. King, so that’s what we’re going to call him. Addie described E.V. as educated and well-read and said that he attended a boarding school across the mountain in Rose Hill, Virginia. Once finished, he returned to Harlan and taught school “for a little while.” Addie went on to say that around 1879, E.V. went to Washington state and worked in the lumber industry.

This memory is backed up by two different sources. The February 18, 1881 edition of The Mountain Echo declared that “three men in Harlan county are headed west.” It said that Harvey Bailey, Ewell King, and Thomas Hensley were contemplating “making their homes in the West.” It went on to say that Ewell wanted to go as far as the Washington Territory.

I don’t know what happened to Harvey Bailey and Thomas Hensley, but E.V. next shows up in the 1883 Snohomish, Washington census. He made it! Based on the Snohomish census alone, it seems as though the territory was teeming with immigrants. The birthplaces of its residents truly run the gamut; Dakota, China, Kentucky, England, Norway, Sweden, Australia, Denmark, Chile, Cuba, and Ireland.

I often get sidetracked, stopped in my tracks, and off the rails in my research. There are hundreds of little snippets that catch my attention for one reason or another. Ancestry.com pointed me to E.V. in the 1883 census. Once I saw his name, I then began to search for Bailey and Hensley. While I didn’t find them, I did stumble across this guy.

It broke my heart a little bit to know that this man had crossed an ocean bearing a name given to him by his parents and wound up in Washington Territory labeled as China Joe from China. Wanting to know more about Chinese immigrants at this time led me to read up about Anti-Chinese Violence in Washington. I’m glad that I know more about it now but it was pretty difficult to read especially given the current anti-immigrant rhetoric in our country.

And now back to E.V. Addie said that E.V. returned to Harlan in the winter of 1883 to visit with family because he got homesick. The next public document bearing his name is a marriage certificate. That must have been a mean case of homesickness! E.V. and Polly Skidmore were married on March 2, 1884 at the home of Abraham Skidmore, Polly’s father. E.V.’s brothers William and Garrett served as witnesses. At the time of their wedding, E.V. was 26 and Polly was 18. Addie was born the following January. Her three brothers were born over the next eight years; George Washington (1886), Logan Wood (1891), and Willie (1894). 

Addie recalled that her father had been elected sheriff of Harlan County around the time that she was born in 1885. John called E.V.’s record as sheriff “elusive” which always gave me cause for doubt. I recently came upon an article researched by Otto Coldiron where he listed the sheriffs of Harlan County from the first one in 1819 until 1994 using court records. Sure, enough, there was E.V. He was elected to two terms, just like Addie said, in 1885 and 1889.

Once I had confirmation that E.V. actually had served as the Sheriff of Harlan County, I started scouring newspapers from that time to see if he was mentioned. The April 17, 1885 edition of The Mountain Echo mentioned that E.V. had recently “summoned a strong posse" to bring in some men who had likely been involved in a recent murder. My maternal grandfather was a huge fan of westerns and I used to joke that every time I walked into his house, someone on the television was about to round up a posse. It turns out that my great-great grandfather did that very thing!

E.V.'s second term began in 1889 but he didn’t finish it. Addie recalled that, “after he had been sheriff, my father was appointed by President Harrison to be a U.S. marshal and that meant we had to move to Harlan Town…his job was to be the revenue man. He had to go around and get after people for making whiskey, tear up their still. It was dangerous work, but he never got hurt.”

I’ve had many conversations with my immediate family over the years about this claim. Was E.V. really a marshal? Shouldn’t there have been more tangible evidence of this somewhere along the way? My grandmother, Addie’s daughter, has also viewed the story with a touch of skepticism. After lots of research, I can confirm that E.V. was, indeed, a marshal and the story is so big that it needs a post of its own.

Stay tuned.

Dillion Blevens Asher: Early Kentucky Pioneer, My Five-Times Great-Grandfather and...Bigamist?

The photo above is the title from a 1995 issue of The Kentucky Explorer. Dillion Blevens Asher is my five times great-grandfather. And while he did run one of the first toll houses in Kentucky, that's probably the least interesting thing about him.

I've been working on a series of posts that take unanswered questions or loose ends from Generations: an American Family and either attempt to answer the questions or tie up the ends. This post started because Addie King Ledford, my great-grandmother, mentioned in the book that her great-great grandfather was a Revolutionary War soldier. I wanted to find out more about his service so I started to dig through the archives. I didn't find a soldier but I did find a polygamist. When you start digging up the past, you have to be prepared to confront stories that conflict with your previous understanding of things, that turn your family history on its head. And when you find those stories, you have to decide whether you want to keep them buried, bring them to light, or twist them into a different kind of narrative that suits you better. I tend to shine a light on everything I find so, let's shine some light on Dillion Blevens Asher.

Addie had this to say about Dillion:

Margaret Farmer, my grandmother - they always called her Peggy, or Peg - was Jim Farmer's daughter, old Surveyor Jim. Jim was married to Margaret Asher, the daughter of a Revolutionary War soldier named Dillon Asher. She was just eighteen years old when she died giving birth to my grandmother. The baby was named Margaret after her mother and was raised by her grandparents, old Dillon Asher and his wife. Jim Farmer got married again-to Susan san Skidmore, Abram's sister-and they had eleven children.

John Egerton. Generations: An American Family (Kindle Locations 488-491). Kindle Edition.

Let’s start by correcting the name; it’s Dillion not Dillon. Dillion Blevens Asher was named for his uncle (his mother’s brother) Dillion Blevens. Dillion Blevens Asher was born in 1777 so he could not have been a Revolutionary War soldier.

In attempting to track down the Asher line, I came across a family genealogy titled “Asher 1700-2000: A Family History” written by Charles H. Asher. After reading and rereading the text, I feel confident that Dillion’s father was William Asher, Jr. Beyond that, I’m fairly confused even with the assistance of Ancestry. There are too many William’s and John’s with no birthdates to help distinguish between the generations and the names of their wives appear to be lost to history. Don’t even get me started on that last part.

With all the uncertainties, what I do feel confident in saying is that the Asher family was in Virginia in the early 1700’s, they held vast amounts of land, they fought in the Revolution, and we are their descendants.

The story that Addie didn’t tell (or didn’t know) about Dillion is far more interesting than if he had been a revolutionary soldier. I had always heard about the possibility of polygamy and lots of children but nothing more than that. The Asher history dives into that story. The author of the book quotes conversations and doesn’t clarify whether these are oral tradition or known facts so I can only present them to you with a link (above) to the original document and a shrug.

William Asher, Jr. drowned in the Halston River in about 1792 while chasing a deer. Dillion was 15 at the time. This tragic event makes me all the more grateful that there is a Meijer less than one mile from my house and that I’ve ever needed to wade into a river to get there. One can only assume that the care of William’s children fell to his wife along with various family members. This becomes more obvious as we find out that Dillion and his uncle Dillion Blevens, joined a party that met at Fort Boonesboro and then traversed Straight Creek, Red Bird Creek, and the Kentucky River.

Dillion fell in love repeatedly on this trip. The first time was with the land.



The second was with a young woman. On their way home from scouting, the party stopped at the home of Richard Davis. There, Dillion met Richard’s daughter, Mary, and fell in love with her. Dillion and Mary wed and soon he was appointed as the first toll-gate operator in Kentucky. After a time, Dillion decided to return to the area around Red Bird Creek Valley because, as the Asher book notes, he wanted to check on those peach seeds. Mary was not too keen on the move and, in her defense, I’d need more impetus to move to an isolated wilderness than a fond memory of planting peach pits that may or may not have taken root. Dillion wouldn’t give up on the idea though and, apparently (?!) Mary said that she would move but only if they could take her sister, Sally.




I’m trying not to judge either Dillion or Mary here but I’ve got big questions about Mary’s negotiation tactics and Dillion’s interpretational skills. In no world would, “I’ll go but only if we take my sister” would the word take mean anything more than accompany. In this account, we jump from traveling partner to polygamy in the space of one sentence.

Whether this was a negotiation gone wrong for Mary, a faulty narrator, or Dillion was just icky (or somewhere in between) we’ll never know. What we do know is that Dillion built houses for both Mary and Sally, fathered at least 16 children between them, and they created a descendancy that is still alive and well in southeastern Kentucky and throughout the country. The first of the two log cabins that Dillion built still stands today in Beverly, Kentucky on the grounds of what is now the Red Bird Community Hospital.

In 1984 The Sentinel Echo in London Kentucky published a brief history of the Asher family written by Sadie W. Stidham. Ol' Sadie leaned heavily into the "rewrite the narrative" version of family history as evidenced by the excerpt below.

Dillion I, son of William and Blevens Asher, was born in England in 1774. He married an English girl by the name of Mary Davis (born in 1775). Mary was the daughter of Richard and Elizabeth Preston Davis. Shortly after coming to America, Mary died and Dillion I married her sister, Sally (Sarah).

It does feel a little more comfortable to tell the story this way but I have read nothing that would support any of the facts presented other than the names. Dillion's family was in the colonies long before his birth and it's clear from the birth records that Dillion was fathering children with both women at the same time. How very Nick Cannon of him!

Our family descends from Margaret Asher, daughter of Dillion and Nancy Davis. Margaret married James (Jim) Farmer and, according to Addie, Margaret died in 1830 at 18 years old giving birth to her grandmother, Margaret Farmer. Addie also says that the young Margaret was raised by “old Dillon and his wife” though she did not specify which one.

Below is my ancestral connection to Dillion.

from Ancestry.com

Margaret Farmer married Abraham Skidmore (1865-1939) in 1846. Their daughter, Polly Skidmore, married Ewell Vanderbilt King (1858-1893) and these are the parents of Addie King Ledford.

Dillion died in 1844, 41 years before Addie was born. Margaret Farmer, Addie's grandmother was raised by Dillion so she would have surely been aware of the situation. Did polygamy not register as out of the ordinary and, thus, not get passed down in our oral traditions or did it just get conveniently omitted from the stories? We'll never know for sure, but it's interesting to speculate. 

Generations Revisited: Tracing My Ledford Roots to Henry and Cassius Clay

My great-grandfather Curtis Burnam Ledford

On most weekends I retreat to my office and “commune with the ancestors.” Our communion might involve scanning photos or picking up loose threads in my family tree. Last weekend, it was the latter and I found myself working my way through the Clay family. On reflection, I’m not really sure how I got there but I’ve spent the entire week exploring branches on the family tree and making one exciting discovery after the next.

Last Sunday afternoon, I texted my family to say that I was pretty sure that we were related to Henry and Cassius Clay and I wish that I could tell my great-grandfather, Curtis Burnam Ledford, the patriarch of an expansive family and the subject of the book Generations: An American Family. And then I realized that Grandpa was giggling at me. Whenever I research his line, I turn to the book to see if his stories can provide context. Sure enough, he had mentioned Henry and Cassius Clay several times and suggested that there might be a kinship though he didn’t have the precise links.

In the book Grandpa says:

Not far from where Sam and Polly Jones lived on Coon Branch, my other grandfather, James Ledford, had a large tract of land. His house was just one valley and across a ridge away, right where Cranks Creek and Martins Fork join. He and my grandmother were divorced, and she was living in Virginia, and he was just before moving to Powell County. That grandmother’s name was Polly too — Polly Farley. I already told you about her. Her mother was Lavinia Clay-they called her Vinie. She was a daughter of John Clay, who was some kin to Henry or Cassius one. I always heard that John and Cassius were brothers. You know, old Green Clay, Cash’s father made a big land survey down through Kentucky and Tennessee, had thousands of acres, and they said John settled on part of it there in Harlan County. When I was about six years old, Cassius Clay came to Harlan to see some of his kinfolks, and one night he stopped to visit my father and stayed all night at our house. He and my father stayed up past midnight, just sitting by the fire talking, and I wanted to stay up and listen to them, but I got so sleepy I couldn’t keep my eyes open. He was an old man, then, Cash was-but I met him twice more after that. John Clay was already dead when Cassius came to our house that time. He had been shot from ambush and killed by a fellow named Carr Clem, way back before the Civil War. They arrested Clem and hung him. I remember one of my grandfathers telling me that story.

In another section of the book he says:

If I had been older, maybe I would have been influenced more by Cassius Clay. He lived at White Hall, outside of Richmond, not far from our farm, and he had given land to start Berea College for young people and poor people, white and black. I thought Clay was a great man — I liked him very much. He had stayed at our house in Harlan County when I was a small boy, and I always believed he was a brother to John Clay of Harlan County, whose daughter Lavinia was my great-grandmother. I never could prove that, though.C.B. Ledford, my great-grandfather

John Edgerton, the author of Generations, started researching the book and talking with my family in 1978. He took the stories handed down from Grandpa and Grandma (Addie King Ledford) and verified records where he could. As far as I know, he didn’t attempt to make any connections with the Clay family. He focused primarily on the story of Aley Ledford, the progenitor of our Ledford line, and his descendants.

Henry Clay had a storied political career. He was a U.S. Senator and Secretary of State and was known as the “Great Compromiser.” He also had an instrumental role in the founding of the Whig and Republican Parties (something tells me he’s rolling over in his grave right about now). Cassius Marcellus Clay, Henry’s cousin, was also a prominent politician. He was a slave-owning abolitionist who survived multiple assassination attempts. He served in the Mexican American War and the US Civil War and was appointed to serve as the US Ambassador to Russia. He also donated the land to establish what would become Berea College. This entire branch of the Clay family figured prominently in Virginia and Kentucky politics for generations.

After finding some tenuous connections to ol’ Henry and Cassius, I traced their ancestors as far as I could. Along the way, I stumbled on the Clay Family Society and numerous stories of pioneering Clays who left Virginia to settle Kentucky. Let me say here, that it helps to have a famous ancestor whose genealogy has already been done for you! Once I found Cassius and Henry’s common ancestor, I started carefully working my way back through Lavinia Clay’s line and, sure enough, the connection was there.

Lavinia, Cassius, and Henry all descend from Henry Clay (1672–1760) and Margaret Mitchell (1693–1777). Henry’s grandfather, John Thomas Clay (1587–1655), was our immigrant ancestor, arriving in Jamestown around 1613. The line is fairly maddening to trace because nearly every generation has a John and a Henry and they all hailed from Virginia.

How close was Grandpa’s recollection to the truth? He thought that, perhaps, Lavinia’s father, John Henry Clay, was a brother to Cassius. In reality, Henry and Cassius were both second cousins to John Henry. Grandpa was just walking around with this knowledge in his head in the early 1900’s making extrapolations based on oral histories and guesswork. One hundred and twenty years later, using a laptop computer, two ancestry website subscriptions, and lots of Google searches, I was able to confirm the thing that he had a hunch about.

Fan showing the ancestors of Curtis Burnam Ledford

I don’t know whether to be more impressed by the availability of online archives or the power of storytelling. Just kidding, I’m way more impressed with Grandpa’s mind and the importance that he placed on remembering and honoring his connections to the past.

The Murder of John Gastineau: An Unsolved Crime

Granny Gastineau knows that I love digging around in genealogy and history. A couple of years ago, she asked if I had ever read anything about the "Gastineau murder." I told her that I didn't and she told me a few of the details that she knew. This stirred a vague memory of reviewing a death certificate for a Gastineau man who died of a gunshot wound. After talking to Granny, I decided to see what I could find about the murder. The story that revealed itself far darker than I ever could have imagined. Please be warned that what follows includes descriptions of suicide and murder scenes.

James Caldwell Gastineau was born in Pulaski County, Kentucky in June of 1847. He was the son of James Albert Gastineau and Susannah McBee Barron. James and Susanna came from families that arrived in the colonies well before the Revolutionary War. Their roots traced to Scotland, Ireland, England, and France. Both James' and Susannah’s grandfathers fought in the Revolutionary War and Susannah’s father, John Barron, served in the War of 1812. It is likely that both families settled in Pulaski County due to land grants received for war service.

James and Susannah are my great-great-great-grandparents. Over a span of 23 years, they welcomed 11 children into the world. Their fourth child, James Harvey Gastineau, was my great-grandfather. This story, however, focuses on the family of their fifth child, John Caldwell Gastineau (1847-1942).

John Caldwell is referred to in many documents as J.C. so that’s what I’m going to call him. Besides, I love a good nickname. J.C. was born in Pulaski County in an area known as “Glades.” Based on what I’ve seen on census records it was like a Gastineau incubator. The families were big, most remained close to home, and they were as fertile as the ground they farmed. There were lots of Gastineau’s.

J.C. married Artimacy (Artie) Lee in Pulaski County on March 18, 1869. The marriage was solemnized at the home of Artimacy’s father, Richard Lee. The name of one of the witnesses was W Mc Gastineau who was J.C.’s big brother, William McCready Gastineau. As a side note, William McCready signed most documents as William Mc Gastineau which sounds like a Scottish/French fusion fast-food chain.

In the 1880 census, J.C. and Artie are living in Clover Bottom in Woodford County, Kentucky. I haven’t found any records to indicate why or when they made the trek northward to Woodford County. J.C. and Artie are both 32 years old and they have two sons; James (10) and William (4). J.C. is a wagoner which is the 1880 equivalent of owning your own big rig. He would have moved product around the area while working on a per-load rate. In 1886, John and Artie’s third son, John Milton, was born.

Sometime between 1880 and 1888 J.C. and Artie move into Garrard County. We know that from two instances that were documented in local newspapers. The first is from the September 14, 1888 edition of the Interior Journal which describes, in disturbing detail, the attempted suicide of John Gastineau's wife. Even in suicide attempts, a woman could not have her own name, but I digress. 

The Jessamine Journal article specifies that the suicide attempt was made by Mrs. J.C. Gastineau so I feel sure that this was our Artie.

A newspaper clipping from The Central Record on November 11, 1898 says that J.C. Gastineau of Hiatsville [Hyattsville] was bitten by a spider and was in agonizing pain. 

J.C., Virgil, and So Many Fires

William Virgil (Virgil from this point forward) Gastineau marries Josephine Johnson (Phine or Phinea) in 1899 when he is 19 years old. Phinea is only 16 years old and the newspaper article announcing their marriage notes that she's an heiress after receiving $100,000 in life insurance after her father's 1896 death.

In the 1900 census, J.C. and Artie are in Garrard County and James and John continue to live with them. James is 30 and John is 13. In that same census, Virgil and Phinea are living in their own house on their own land next door to his father, J.C. Between 1901 and 1907, Virgil and Phinea have four children Willie Macie (1901), Claud (1903), Virgil, Jr. (1905) and Oliver (1907). 

In early 1901, tragedy strikes when James dies from measles at the age of 30. Apparently, there had been a large outbreak in the Hyattsville area of the county.

On September 18, 1902, the Central Record reports that, “Virgil Gastineau’s residence was burned 

Saturday night while he and his wife was at church.” That’s some tough luck for Virgil and his young family.

In 1909, Virgil sells his 73 acre farm and, perhaps, his entire inventory of livestock and it looks like Virgil is getting out of the livestock business. In the 1910 census, Virgil and Phinea are in Paint Lick and the document shows that he owns his own farm and house. On a related (literally) note, his house is very near C.B. and Addie Ledford who are my great-grandparents.

In the 1910 census, J.C. and Artie seem to have moved but are still living in Garrard County. J.C. and Artie own their home and farm. Some Gastineau cousins (and my great-granduncle) Robert and Lena Gastineau are living nearby with their daughter Ruby. Virgil is in the Paint Lick section of Garrard County with his wife and their four children. Virgil and Phinea also own their own house and farm so it seems like the Gastineau’s are doing well for themselves.

In 1911, stuff starts getting weird, I mean really weird. On January 26, 1911, Virgil’s tobacco barn burns and, with it, 14,000 pounds of tobacco awaiting delivery to market. The first accounts point to arson. The Lexington Herald's account notes that there was $2,500 insurance on the crop and that authorities were looking for the folks who set the barn on fire. 

Perhaps a disinformation campaign ensued because the February 3, 1911 edition of the Central Record makes it clear that Night Riders did not set fire to the barn and it might have been, instead, accidentally set by "tramps" wandering from the nearby railroad tracks.

On April 20, 1912, J.C. holds a huge public sale at his farm which is located on Hurt Lane. The advertisement in the Central Record doesn’t say it’s a liquidation sale but it has the feel of J.C. getting out of the farming business. He’s 64 at this point and probably ready to retire. Up for sale are 42 heard of cattle, 2 milk cows, 3 work mares, 1 saddle hours, 1 family horse, 2 five-year old mules, 1 Jack, 2 colts and a host of other animals and implements.

Just four days after the sale, on April 24, Artie dies. Her obituary says that her death followed a long illness so maybe her failing health was what prompted J.C. to scale back his operation. An additional note on Artie. A different obituary mentions that Artie had been paralyzed for a number of years and suggested that her death might have been related. I can't find any information on the reason for Artie's paralysis.

On August 12 of that year, The Lexington Herald reports that, Virgil Gastineau "…claims to have the best tobacco patch of his district…and expects to have one of the best yields of the brown weed grown in his section of the county.” 

Eleven days later on August 23, Virgil loses another tobacco barn. The Central Record reports that a lightning strike is the culprit. Keep in mind that this was the replacement for the barn that burned in 1911. This time, Virgil loses corn, hay, a surrey, farm machinery, a wagon, a new tobacco setter, and enough sticks for 10 acres of tobacco. Virgil estimates his losses at $1,000 and says that he carried $600 worth of insurance. No word on how Virgil housed that stellar crop after losing his tobacco sticks.

Tragedy strikes again in 1913, when Virgil’s “new” house burns to the ground shortly after he and Phinea leave “for town.” The fire also consumes the coal house and the meat house. Virgil carried $1,200 insurance on the house and $600 on the furniture. The house, known to locals as the “John M. Palmer place,” was estimated to be 100 years old. The Central Record notes that Virgil has been a severe "loser" by fire in the last several years. That's a bit of an understatement.

Between 1912 and 1919, J.C. and Virgil start appearing in local newspapers for their livestock trades. They seem to have growing reputations as dealers in the market. The advertisement for “Black Pat” makes you think that J.C. has some serious horse game. He’s got a stud in residence for the 1919 breeding season and $15 will secure a colt from what must have been a majestic beast. Perhaps J.C. has made the turn from farmer to horse breeder extraordinaire. It’s not a terrible retirement plan! As J.C. moves into retirement so this story moves to his two living sons, Virgil and John.

Life seems to have calmed down a bit after the first 13 years in the new century. Well, at least Virgil’s name doesn’t appear very often in print. In 1916, he makes a couple of mule sales that are noted in the newspapers. Maybe he decided to leave tobacco farming behind and focus on livestock? In March of 1918, the last of his six children, Jessie Woodrow, is born. Things seem to be looking up.

But wait just a second. On August 27, 1918, Virgil sells (another) farm. The terms of sale are described as “very easy” which makes it sound like Virgil is in need of some cash. 

It’s tempting to think that Virgil is headed in the wrong direction but on June 4, 1919 he sells 93 hogs. A man has to have a place to put 93 hogs and that generally means a sizable farm. Perhaps the sale noted above was not his primary residence. In the 1920 census we find Virgil and Phinea back in the east end of Garrard County (near Henry Hurt and Robert Gastineau) on a farm that he owns and living in a house that he owns free and clear.

The thing about Virgil and houses is that houses never last long around him. In fact, they have a bad habit of burning and on August 11, 1921, The Central Record reports that Virgil's house is destroyed by fire. Luckily for Virgil (wink) he has insurance on the home. The story notes that the house was on the "old West property" which where the 1918 big sale takes place. It seems that Virgil sold the farm's accoutrements but kept the house.

On that very same day, the very same newspaper reports that Virgil bought a new five-passenger “Dodge Brothers” car. Which came first, the car or the fire? 

Whether Virgil has really rotten luck or is in a year's long scam, we'll never know. In any case, things go quiet for Virgil...for a bit...

John M. Gastineau and a Grisly Murder

John Milton Gastineau is the youngest of J.C. and Artie’s three boys, born 11 years after Virgil. The records don’t tell us much about John’s life. 

In February of 1913, the Central Record reports that John buys 21 head of cattle from various sellers. Perhaps this is the start of John’s own livestock business. In August of 1917, John registers for the draft. On August 28, 1918 John, along with several other Garrard County men, are inducted into military service at Camp Zachary Taylor in Kentucky. It looks like John never ships overseas.

In the 1920 census, we see John living with J.C. and J.C.’s wife Mary (When did that happen?!) in the same place that they’ve lived for many years. John is 33 and has never been married. That census record is the last time I can find John alive in the public record. He is murdered on the evening of February 24, 1926 in his car.

John’s body is found by Fred Creech, a store owner in Hyattsville, on the morning of February 25 as Fred is on his way to open his store. John is slumped over the steering wheel of the car with two bullet holes in the back of his head. John’s clothing and the seats of the car are “drenched with blood.” His car is on the side of the road only about half a mile from his home.

The night before the murder, John had a attended a livestock sale in Harrodsburg with his brother, Virgil, and Alvin Thomas. Newspapers reported that John had dropped Virgil off near his home and then a few miles outside of Lancaster had also dropped off Alvin Thomas (Virgil's employee) who walked the rest of the way to his home.

 As the townsfolk try to make sense of the crime they remark on what a well-liked young man John was. He was said to have no enemies. The immediate assumption is that John has been the victim of a robbery. That motive is ruled out, however, when his wallet with $115 is found on him along with his gold wristwatch. Who killed this quiet, young farmer and why?

In early March, a $2,000 reward is offered by J.C. and Virgil for the arrest and conviction of the murderer. Meanwhile, local and state authorities interview witnesses and pour over the evidence for the next several months.

The case goes quiet in the newspapers until July 27, 1926 when Virgil Gastineau and Alvin Thompson are arrested for the murder of John. E.C. McWhorter is also arrested as an accomplice.

By July 28, area newspapers begin to print charging details and statements from members of the community. The charge made by the Brown Detective Agency is that Virgil killed his brother to collect  $23,000 in insurance policies where Virgil was the beneficiary. Detectives also note that Virgil has recently applied for an additional $20,000 policy on John’s life but is denied by the insurance company.

The First Trial

Virgil's examining trial begins on August 2, 1926.  An estimated 400 showed up at the courthouse to watch. The Lexington Herald-Leader reports that there were “more people on the outside unable to get in, than were inside. Windows, stairways and the porch roof were crowded.” This case generates interest across the country and it is mentioned in newspapers from Washington State to Washington, D.C.

The prosecution has a witness list of 70 individuals but most never make it to the stand. Just prior to the start of the examining trial, the star witness (unnamed) flees to St. Louis. Many other witnesses also flee the state and there is no statute to compel them to return.

Fred Creech (first on the murder scene) testifies that when he found the car and the body, that he did not recognize it as John. He went to get Alvin Thomas for help and on the way back Alvin said that he guessed it was John [in the car] before they even arrived at the crime scene. Fred phones Virgil to let him know about John and says that Virgil expresses "no emotion."

Pearl Jones, a former girlfriend of John testifies that John stopped at her house on the night before the murder and told her that he didn’t expect to get home alive, because “I have too much insurance and it is made out to the wrong man.” 

Shelly Herron testifies that on the Saturday before the murder he had been at the home of Ollie Estes for a chicken dinner where the Gastineau brothers were also present. Ollie and the brothers were drinking liquor. During the evening, Alvin Thomas pulled Shelly outside and asked if he would help "bump off Johnny Gastineau." Herron declined and Thomas told him to forget about it and that he was only joking. Herron testifies that he told his father and brother about the conversation.

James Lee, known as the biblical barber because of his refusal to cut women's hair into bobs, testifies that he had heard Virgil say that he maintained John's military insurance (worth $10,0000) but that the information should stay just between them.

Jesse Simpson testifies that Virgil Gastineau, Jr., Virgil's son, told him that "he believed he would kill his Uncle John and get the insurance money, but later said that he was only joking." 

Dr. W.M. Johnson testifies that he was visited by McWhorter on the night of the murder and McWhorter begged him to leave his home and go “out yonder and go quickly” to tend to a man who had been shot. Since McWhorter appeared to be drunk, Dr. Johnson assumed that it was a prank. Dr. Johnson, along with many other potential witnesses, reported receiving a threatening letter demanding that they “keep quiet.”

John Beazley, undertaker and insurance agent, also takes the stand. Can we maybe put a pin in the fact that he is both an undertaker and life insurance agent? Beazley testifies that Virgil took out a $1,000 double-indemnity policy on John a number of years before and that Virgil paid the premiums. He further testifies that Virgil had inquired about an additional $10,000 policy on John in 1925 but never completed the paperwork. 

In his capacity as coroner, Beazley testifies on the condition of John's corpse. He said that John's "trousers were muddy, his shoes were dirty, and this his underclothing...was saturated with blood."

Beazley testifies that Alvin Thomas owned a .32 caliber pistol and that the pistol had been present at the coroner’s inquest. The chamber was full but two of the bullets were different from the other four.

The father of Pearl Jones testifies that Pearl told him that she had mentioned to Virgil that she had been asked to testify and that Virgil told her to "step aside."

The case moves to a jury trial on September 1, 1925. Unable to find an untainted jury pool in Garrard County, the judged summons 100 men from neighboring Jessamine County. 

Cora Smith Burtan testifies that Virgil had approached her the previous December and asked her to buy whisky from John, get into an argument with him, and then kill him. For this, Virgil would give her $5,000 of John's insurance money. She also says that, prior to the trial, Virgil Gastineau Jr. told her that he would "shoot her full of holes" if she testified. Under cross-examination, Cora admits to purchasing large amounts of bootlegged liquor from the Gastineau brothers over the last couple of years.

In closing arguments, Green Clay Walker, County Attorney, notes that Virgil is "...a constant violator of the law, numerous times Virgil had been an offender against the prohibition law, had been accused of gaming or had been embroiled in affairs similar..." to the ones that Cora Smith Burtan mentions.

On September 4, 1926 after six hours of deliberation, the jury is declared to be hung.

The Second Trial

Virgil’s second trial begins on March 30, 1927. Unable to find a pool of unbiased jurors in Garrard County, the judge forms a pool of Anderson County citizens.

H.K. Sebastian testifies that he found John's car and notified the sheriff. He also says that he is the one who tells Virgil of John's death and that Virgil's reply is "Isn't that too bad." It's not exactly the grief-stricken response that one might expect when learning of a sibling's demise. 

Based on the newspaper reports alone, it's difficult for me to determine the importance of Sebastian's testimony. In the first trial, we learn that Fred Creech is first on the scene, that he goes to Alvin Thompson for help, and that he calls Virgil to let him know. Is Virgil's lack of emotion with Creech a result of him already being notified by Sebastian or vice versa?

Cora Smith Burtan again testifies that Virgil asked her to to kill Johnnie for a share of the insurance money and that she is a local bootlegger who had purchased alcohol from the Gastineau brothers on "many occasions" up to "40 gallons at a time." On cross-examination, the defense attempts to show that Cora tried to blackmail Virgil a few months prior to the murder, thus discounting her testimony.

Shelly Herron, again, testifies that Alvin Thomas asked him to "bump off" John at the Estes chicken dinner.

Axie Wagers, J.C.'s housekeeper, testifies that after John's burial, Virgil and Alvin Thomas carry "a quantity" of whisky out of J.C.'s house in jugs and that John sold whisky from the house.

Ed Gaines testifies that John had $22,000 in insurance and that Virgil was the beneficiary. Of that amount, $10,000 was from an insurance policy that Gaines sold to Virgil and that $10,000 was from a government policy owing to John's time in the army. Gaines testifies that Virgil has asked for another $10,000 policy on John but that the request had been denied by the insurance company.

Several accounts indicate that Robert Gastineau, brother of Virgil and John, testifies at this trial. That's incorrect. This Robert Gastineau is the prominent Garrard County farmer who is my great-grand uncle. He owned land in the Paint Lick area and was one of the first to visit the scene according to early reports. 

Pearl Jones also takes the stand to state, again, that the brothers had visited her house the night of the murder.

Virgil testifies on his own behalf and and swears that he "did not have a thing to do with it" and that he only found out about his brother's murder the following morning.

The prosecution rests it's case at about 2:00 p.m. on Friday, April 1. By 8:00 p.m. that evening, they acquit Virgil. The verdict makes the headline of the following day's Lexington Herald.

On September 1, 1927, Alvin Thomas is also found innocent. Charges had been dropped against McWhorter in 1926. So, there you have it. Virgil and Alvin walk away unscathed.

An End of Sorts

After the trial, Virgil continues to show up in the newspapers. On February 27, 1930, the Central Record runs an advertisement for a bankruptcy sale. Virgil's 248 acre farm is on the block along with livestock and a car. The advertisement notes that the successful bidder on the farm must assume a $13,000 mortgage debt on the home which is due to the New York Life Insurance company. I can only imagine that despite the innocent verdict, the insurance company wanted the money they had already paid to Virgil immediately following John's death.

One month later, on March 27, the Central Record reports that in the case of the Commonwealth v. Virgil Gastineau, the jury was unable to reach a verdict on the charges of Virgil stealing 18 sheep; another hung jury.

Later that year, Virgil is charged with possessing parts of a moonshine still and fined $100 and one hour in jail. He is also charged with grand larceny with the case postponed until November. I can't find the results of that case.

In 1933, a snippet in the Rushville Republican notes that "Mr. Gastineau (J.C.) is "...ill at the home of his son Virgil..." Sometime between 1930 and 1933 Virgil moves his entire family to Rushville, Indiana and it looks like J.C. moved with them.

The 1940 census shows that Virgil and his family are living on a rented farm in Rushville, Indiana and that J.C. is living with them. So, J.C. did, indeed, make a permanent move. J.C. dies in Virgil's home in 1942.

The 1950 census shows that Virgil is divorced and living with one of his daughters and her family. Virgil dies in 1956. 

Murders, Suicides, and Even More Insurance Money

Virgil appears in the news once more in 1939 when he and Phinea testify in the murder trial (yep, you read that right) of Phinea's brother. The Reverend Miller Johnson gunned down his estranged wife and a man that she was talking to in front of her home. Johnson was sentenced to life in prison on April 14, 1939.

But wait, there's more. Remember the way Phinea is noted as an "heiress" in the wedding announcement? In December of 1896, Phinea's father, Matthew Johnson, drops dead suddenly at the ripe old age of 36. Johnson is described as "thrifty" and a man of little means. However, notification of his death mentions that, in addition to farming, that he is a "life insurance agent" with a $110,000 policy.

Matthew's death is so suspicious that a representative from an insurance company in New York is sent to Garrard County to exhume Matthew's body not long after burial.

By early 1897, Matthew's estate is battling with insurance companies on the payout of the policies. The family contends that Matthew died by falling off a horse. The insurance company believes that Matthew committed suicide as a bottle of strychnine was found in his pocket at the time of his death and that strychnine was found in his stomach at the time of the post-mortem.

The issue moves through the courts over the next couple of years and I can't find a final verdict. However, if Phinea is known as an heiress, it seems to reason that the policies were eventually paid. If the family received the full $110,000 that would equate to roughly $4.4 million in today's dollars. 

After Thoughts

I would love to know if Virgil’s infamy followed him. Did his terrible luck with barns and homes impact his life in Indiana? What did his children know?

Granny Gastineau was born in 1928 so she wasn't around at the time of John's murder and Virgil's trial. Beginning the youngest of 13, however, she had older brothers and sisters who remembered. She told me that one of her sisters tried to sneak into the first trial. When Grandpa got wind of her escapade, he shut it down real quick and warned her to stay away from the courthouse.

When Granny and Pa (Russell Gastineau) were dating, Granny’s uncle warned her not to get messed up with the Gastineau’s. Were we known in the 1920's and 30's as a bootlegging and murdering family? Maybe? 

It’s hard to think about John Gastineau's case as an unsolved murder. It feels like the answer is pretty clear but the prosecution just couldn’t prove their case. Too many different people report being asked to “off” Johnnie for this to be anything other than a cold-blooded murder for insurance money. I think I might always wonder who got John to pull off the road so close to his home. Did he know the person was behind him? Did he hear the cock of the hammer?
















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Here's to 51 and All the Stories Waiting to Be Told

For my 51st birthday, I read Generations. It wasn’t my first reading. I read it in my early teens and I think I might have even done a book report on it in high school: I hope I got an A! I read it again in my 40’s to remember the story and the voices of Grandpa and Grandma Ledford. I’ve consulted it often over the years when I have genealogical questions. This time I read it looking for unanswered questions.

When John Egerton researched and wrote the book, he did a fantastic job of corroborating Grandpa and Grandma’s stories with the documentation that he had available to him. That research, however, was done nearly fifty years ago. At that time, a researcher needed to visit courthouses and libraries to view census records, marriage/birth records and land transfers with the understanding that each county held its own collection. You might also be able to view copies of old newspapers using a microfiche machine. Today, much of that information is available through Ancestry.com and Newspapers.com using only a laptop as an interface.

So, I’m on a quest. I want to utilize these amazing technological advances to answer the unanswered questions in the book and I want to take a deeper dive into some of the subjects that were only briefly covered. I’ve marked up the book and taken note of the leads that I want to follow.

And maybe one day, I’ll also go to Harlan. Not because I think I’ll find anything there that hasn’t already been found but I want to look at what the mining companies have left of the mountains and I want to imagine Aley and Betsy, and the Skidmore's, Farmer's, and Ledford's moving through the hollers and the creeks. I want to thank their mountain spirits for giving birth to storytellers and survivors so that seven generations later, I can continue telling their stories.

Here's to 51 and here's to another year of discovery.

Project Yeet the Uterus: Mission Accomplished

It’s been six days since I was parted from my entire reproductive system and I am in awe of the process and recovery.

I arrived at the hospital at 6 am for a 7:30 a.m. surgery. I only spent a few minutes in the waiting room before being taken back for prep. The nurses inserted my IV, went through a series of questions, and then they brought Drew back. Drew and I maintain a fairly constant banter between us but we were both short on words that morning. I think we both had a lot of unspoken fears to which we couldn’t give voice.

Woman takes smug selfie prior to surgery

The nurse anesthetist arrived and went over my history. She was followed by the anesthesiologist who covered the remaining questions. My doctor (a resident) arrived with her supervisor (the attending) and confirmed what we were doing and asked for questions. The OR nurse arrived and let us know that the entire group would return in a few minutes for a pre-op huddle.

When the surgery team was assembled, I looked around and smiled. The only male on the team was a medical student who was there to observe. I said something to the effect of, “I’m so moved to have an all-female team” and there were a few mentions of “girl power” from the group. Drew said that he had never felt more helpless in his entire life.

I was whisked away to surgery promptly at 7:30 a.m. and I am happy to say that I don’t even remember being moved into the OR. My next memory was a nurse in the recovery room telling me that my only job was to breathe. Mercifully, there is no sense of time when you are waking up from anesthesia. In what I assumed had been mere minutes, I went from eating ice chips to drinking Pepsi and eating cinnamon graham Goldfish (a perk of sharing recovery with pediatric patients). In reality it had been two hours. Everything else happened quickly. Drew came back, I said I needed to pee and the nurse escorted me to the restroom. When I returned, my clothes were on the bed and a wheelchair awaited my woozy self.

I’ve always been a worst-case scenario type of girl so I was fully prepared for lots of pain. Surprisingly I haven’t had a lot of that. I took one oxy when I got home. For the first couple of days I tag-teamed the hospital grade ibuprofen with Tylenol but, six days out I’m just taking ibuprofen. I have twinges of pain throughout the day but most of what I’ve been feeling is what I would describe as pressure. If I sit in one position for too long, or twist a certain way, what’s left of my innards, asks me to knock it off and I do. I spend most of the day in a semi-reclined position which seems to make my insides as happy as they can be at the moment.

Tiredness is the one thing that I had not accurately accounted for. I mean, everything I read said that I would be tired but this isn't your regular “I think I’ll go to bed at 9:00 instead of 9:30” kind of tired. It’s the “I took a shower and now I need a nap” kind of tired. It’s the “I walked up and down the stairs twice and now I need a nap” kind of tired. On Sunday after lunch, I told Drew that I needed to lay down for a few minutes. The next thing I knew it was 6:00 p.m.!

This was, strictly, an elective surgery and right up until the drive to the hospital I was wondering if I had made the right decision. After reading the surgery and pathology reports I no longer have any doubts.

In addition to my large fibroid, Julius (he was the size of an orange), I had so many other fibroids that they didn’t even bother enumerating them. We knew that I had at least nine but the final count was likely more. My uterus measured the size of a 14-week pregnancy due to Julius being attached to its wall. I also had Stage 1 endometriosis with a lesion on my right uterosacral ligament. That was precisely the spot where I had been experiencing stabbing pain off and on for more than a year. I did a 6-week round of pelvic floor therapy last year to deal with the pain but it didn’t help. Now we know why.

The pathology report noted that I also had adenomyosis, an ovarian cyst, and a large nodule on my cervix. Basically, my reproductive organs looked like a cucumber that gets tucked away in the back of the crisper drawer and you find it only once it has moldy spots and is oozing.

For a year, I have moved through life with symptoms that can all be tied to the surgical and pathological findings. I’ve missed work because of cramps. I’ve left work early because of cramps, nausea, and bloating. I’ve stayed home from events because of nausea. I had to stop lifting weights three weeks before my surgery because I got nauseous each time I worked out. I’ve belched like an animal both at home and work. I’ve been miserable.

At my pre-op appointment, my doctor warned me that the surgery might not relieve all of my symptoms. What I can tell you today is that I feel better nearly a week after my hysterectomy than I did the week before it.

I’m so glad that I chose the surgery. I’m so glad that I had a choice! I can't say enough good things about my medical team at the University of Michigan Von Voigtlander Women’s Hospital. They were amazing. Then there’s my husband. He patiently watched over the last year as I’ve needed naps, nights with the heating pad on the couch instead of concerts, and days with little or no exertion. Over the last week, he has been there every step of the way, holding my hand, rubbing my back, making meals, and making sure that I don’t “overdo” it. He carries my rocks. He is my rock.

I cannot wait to take this post-menopausal body out for a metaphorical spin! Until then, you can find me propped up on pillows binge-watching series and working through my TBR pile. Oh, and I’ll be cuddling the cat a lot too. After all, she started me down this road.

Tara is my guardian cat