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Note: Name Birth Death Last Residence Last Benefit SSN Issued Tools ELROSE R COX 02 Oct 1913 05 Jan 2001 (V) 93933 (Marina, Monterey, CA) (none specified) 352-09-6632 Illinois
-----Original Message-----
From: UMPADRE@aol.com [mailto:UMPADRE@aol.com]
Sent: Friday, April 12, 2002 4:35 PM
To: David.Leggett@fns.usda.gov
Subject: Re: Mort's Letters
Hi:
I am going to forward your letter to 2 daughters of Ferris's sister. I buried
the sister (who lived in CA) in Columbus, OH. last spring. Ferris died in MD
last fall. I did not do that funeral. The daughters (Hunt and Owen) can
answer these questions. I will look also, as I am working on that and the
previous generations.
Looking forward to that re-union some day.
Pax,
Cory
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::;
-----Original Message-----
From: Jim & Anita Hunt [mailto:jacc@bignetnorth.net]
Sent: Tuesday, April 16, 2002 10:25 PM
To: Leggett, David
Cc: Candy
Subject: Re: Mort's Letters
Cousin Cory forwarded your message to my sister Candy (Elrose) and me
(Anita). Our mother, Elrose Anna Randall Cox, died January 2001 in Carmel
California, and her ashes were interred in Ohio in May 2001. Her sister,
Anita, died without children--not sure of the year--maybe Candy knows (I am
cc-ing to her). We also have a brother Randy (Ferris Randall Rockhold Cox),
in Pennsylvania.
I know that Ida Wells Johnson Randall died when my mother was 5 years old,
so around 1918 or so. Candy may have that date, too, as she has our
mother's papers. I will look around as well--
I just found some "working" genealogical charts which Uncle Ferris must have
given to my mother. It shows that Ferris Seaman Randall was born August 14,
1876, married June 8, 1908. Ida Wells Johnson born Oct. 10, 1889, St.
Louis, MO, Died Dec. 2, 1918 in El Reno, OK, where Elrose and (I assume)
Anita were born. Ferris Seaman Randall Jr. was born May 25, 1909, Monterey,
Mexican Republic. He died this last year in Maryland, but the directory may
still have an Illinois address for him. As I say, Candy probably has more
details.
Hope this helps a little.
Anita Wells Cox Hunt
----- Original Message -----
From: "Leggett, David" <David.Leggett@fns.usda.gov>
To: <UMPADRE@aol.com>
Sent: Wednesday, April 10, 2002 2:42 PM
Subject: RE: Mort's Letters
> Cory,
>
> Well, I scanned those letters the other night, it took about an hour and a
> half, due to my computer crashing about 6 times in the course of it. Must
> be Windows 98 and/or a combo of programs that does not work and play well
> together.
>
> It took some hours to go through and correct the text. The
scanner/software
> cannot handle w and y, and various other glitches. But I think I came out
> ahead in terms of typing time, vs. entering it all by hand.
>
> I am now annotating the text. I have found some interesting things, and
am
> able to add to my genealogical database. I have some specific questions
for
> you, as in adding, I came across notes I got from you. Unfortunately I
> don't think I have the email in which you originally sent them, as when
they
> converted our system to Windows 2000, some email disappeared.
>
> Anyway, my question has to do with the children of Ferris Seaman Randall,
> Sr. (1877-?) who married one Ida Wells Johnson, nothing more known of her.
> I don't think we have a death date for him.)
>
> The McCurdys say they had one son, Ferris Seaman Randall, Jr. and two
> daughters, nothing more known. In Mort's letters I found only that the
> daughters were named Elrose and Anita.
>
>
> Back to your email, Of Ferris Jr., I made a note:
>
> still alive Mar 2001; nursing home in Maryland
>
> Now I find:
>
> Biography & Genealogy Master Index (BGMI)
> Viewing records 1-1 of 1 Matches
>
>
> 938596
> Randall, Ferris Seaman 1909-
> A Biographical Directory of Librarians in the United States and Canada.
> Fifth edition. Edited by Lee Ash. Chicago: American Library Association,
> 1970. (BiDrLUS 70)
> Who's Who in Library Service. A biographical directory of professional
> librarians in the United States and Canada. Fourth edition. Edited by Lee
> Ash. Hamden, CT: Shoe String Press, 1966. (WhoLibS 66)
> Who's Who in the Midwest. 14th edition, 1974-1975. Wilmette, IL: Marquis
> Who's Who, 1974. (WhoMW 74)
>
> And:
>
> Name Birth Death Last Residence Last Benefit SSN Issued
> FERRIS S RANDALL 25 May 1909 07 Oct 2001 (V) 62692 (Waverly, Morgan, IL)
> (none specified) 065-09-4726 New York
>
> So Ferris Jr. is no longer with us. I trust you knew this? From the
above,
> he was a librarian. But was he in a nursing home in Maryland? It seems
he
> died in Illinois.
>
> As for the daughters, you had one of them married, with an unknown
daughter,
> and one not. One died in Ohio, 2001. Do you know which one was Elrose
and
> which Anita? The one who died in Ohio seems not to be in the SSDI.
>
> David
>
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
-----Original Message-----
From: Candy [mailto:owen@mbay.net]
Sent: Wednesday, April 17, 2002 12:45 PM
To: Leggett, David
Subject: RE: Mort's Letters
Hi David, I probably can fill in lots of blanks, as Anita said, I have Mom's
papers, and also have been accumulating information from several sources. I
am just about to leave for a meeting, but by this weekend, I will answer as
much as I can. I think we can fit this puzzle together. It's great to have
all the info. I have lots of things on Eliza Leggett and Will Leggett, as I
suppose you do as well? I'll get back to you very soon. Nice to meet you
as well. Regards. Candy (ElroseIII)
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Continued from the notes for Elrose's brother, Ferris.
...
I wonder what the old mountain would say could it talk there where it stood, monarch of all its surroundings since creation, little thinking of being encroached upon. And now the indignity of a train of cars with a noisy tooting engine running across its very feet. It is tough on the "old gal" but graces she will stand it. A little farther on our train stops beside a great wall of rock and here the melting snow from Mt. Shasta runs down and electric bulbs are all over these rocks and the water running through these lights is a grand sight. Looks as if the whole face of that great rock was ablaze with diamonds.
As we pass by the many places so familiar after reading Brett Hart [?] and Mark Twain "Sutter's Beard" [?] where gold was first discovered and "Spunky Point" where such yarns were written and "Leadville" where the miners thought something was wrong if one or two dead men were not found in the morning in the streets. We keep on going over mountains
through valleys and dear little mountain streams and once in a while a lake way up in the mountains. All at once our train stops and we find wreak ahead and all have to get out and walk around the cars on a narrow path between the cars and Arkansas River 20 feet below and a very steep bank and horrors upon horrors we come to a carload of coal across our path and everybody had to climb over it. Old ladies had to be boosted over. When we got to the end of the wrecked train, we found a small piece of land large enough to hold the thousand passengers. We found we were in the "Royal Gorge of Colorado" and to help everything along, we had to stay there for an hour until another train could be sent in for us. In the meantime, a terrific thunderstorm came up and it rained in torrents. No shelter, no umbrellas and it was hard for the ladies in their white shirt-waists. It was a wonderful experience. Those peals of thunder that kept going around and around those mountains and to be in that great gorge, a lane as it was cut through those mountains just wide enough for the track. Yet in one place, a bridge had to be made the same way the river ran as the mountains were too close. What a sight to see cars going between those mountains. The wall almost straight up and down and of great height and the rocks of different colors. We got started again and I know we left one man fishing on the river there, missing the train and miles from any town. Oh! What a solemn place that seemed to me. Outside of our passengers not a living thing and nature left the same as at creation with the exception of cars, and it seemed beyond the work of man to overcome what nature had done. And I truly hope your children some day may have the pleasure of this trip.
We are underway again and are passing through wonderful works of nature. At last our train has stopped at Colorado Springs, the Mecca for the poor beings that have that terrible affliction, tuberculosis. So many going to this place on the cars that it made our hearts bleed.
As our train stayed some time in Colorado Springs, it gave us a wonderful view of Pike's Peak. We seemed to be right at its base, yet were told it was thirty-five miles to the top. It was raining and warm where we were, but it was snowing very hard in the mountains. I have gotten off my track as I started for Portland, Oregon and now I am at Pike's Peak and have put old Mt. Shasta on the wrong track. It should be on the one I am taking to Portland. I will have to move old mountain now. It will be a pretty hard job, but then I guess I can. I am like a great many others, got on the wrong track. Well the ride up to Portland came out all right with no events to speak of. Went to one famous lodging house and stayed all night. For here we are to start for Salt Lake in the morning. Our trip through Oregon was fine; it is a beautiful state.
Now, we are on the train for Salt Lake and we are going along the Columbia River with its great mountains that seem to he right over our heads and the beautiful river flowing near our track.
Our train stops at the "Maiden Vail" [sic] falls. This is a sheet of water that falls from the mountain top and before it reaches the ground it turns into mist. It is very beautiful. The river has all kinds of nets set to catch the salmon and great canning houses are numerous. As we say good-bye to the river, a great cloud appears. We think it snow, but no, it is fine
sand blowing up out of the river. Great hills of it along the railroad filling the track in so much that hundreds of men and teams are at work keeping the track clear and we were told that it would go back into the river when the wind shifted. We soon struck a level tract of country that was curved with rocks of all sizes and perfectly black. Our train kept on going over a great barren plain when all at once we came to standstill. A wreck ahead. Here we were with no living thing in sight; no grass or trees or houses or even birds and the thermometer 116. Here we stayed for twelve hours. At last our train pulled down to the wreck where two freights had come together and all the passengers had to walk past the cars to reach a train waiting on the other side. The sand was so hot it burned the feet of all who had on low shoes. We had to wait until all the express and mail was transferred from one train to another. Thus instead of getting into Salt Lake that morning, we got there next morning. We were charmed with the beauty of the city. It lies in a valley and is beautifully laid out with broad streets and a little stream of mountain water on either side. It has fine trees and the buildings are like other cities. We saw about a dozen houses in a row. These were for Brigham Young's numerous wives.
The old adobe houses were still standing with a great wall around them to protect them from the Indians. We went into the great tabernacle. This is an immense building and no nails used in the building of it. Raw hide was used to bind event joint. It is said to have the finest organ in the world and it was made by a cabinet-maker. The acoustics are so wonderful that we heard a pin when dropped on a table that was one hundred feet away [a trick still performed today]. We happened to meet an old Mormon, one of the first ones in there, and he was so polite. Took us around and told us all about their coming in there and how they had barricaded the town from some clan that was going to take Brigham Young. He showed us the only cannon they had and the load they had in it and we made up our mind had they fired it, there would have been nothing but dead Mormons left. But the expected foe did not come. He took us into a little museum which contained the things that they brought in when they formed the chosen spot. The "great temple" is a great work of art, built of white marble [light grey granite, actually] and very artistic in its design. It is for the high "muck-a-mucks." The ones that have not reached the high mark [earning a "Temple Recommend"] can't enter. There are several other Mormon buildings in this pretty little park with no signs "Keep off the grass."
Now we are going to take the train for Denver and our last trip over the Rockies ended here still. Crossing mountains and gullies where you could not see the bottom; through tunnels where gas from the engines nearly suffocated one; and where the track was so crooked that you could look out your window and see the engine and whole train; and where it took three engines to pull us up a mountain and sometimes we could get out and walk they went so slow, and sometimes you could see a great cable stretched across a great chasm on which a basket is pulled across carrying passengers. We are now in Denver and now past all the mountains. Denver is like all other cities, fine to be in and fine to look at and built to last. We were tired and did not see much of this city. Now we are on the train for Chicago twelve hundred miles away. We soon cross a level tract of country with nothing but cactus, sage brush, prairie dogs and rabbits. We rode for a great distance over
this great land. Only once in a while (did we) see cowboys with their herds of cattle or sheep. Our train kept on going through Nebraska, Iowa, Wisconsin. When we heard the brakeman say, "the next stop is Chicago." and the next night took a Michigan Central for Detroit and the next day we were home where the girls had killed the fattened calf and had the best dinner for us and we were all so happy.
Now my dear children, I have written this at odd times and I do not know whether it will be of interest to you, but I have taken great pleasure in writing it for it is really a history of my life. So I think you will know me pretty well. I have taken little pains to write of the different places I [have] been and when you grow up, the changes in them and the comparison may be interesting. I have not mentioned the many times I have been to Niagara Falls and the number of times to the big eastern cities, in fact all the big cities of our country. And I have been on all the big rivers and both oceans.
Now all I want of you children is to be good and kind, for if you are kind, you will be just, and if you are just, you will never allow the enemy to have any place with you. Always keep the memory of your dear mother sacred and always feel that she is near you. And never do a thing that would cause her pain and never forget for one minute what your Mama Elrose has done for you. Let it be the study of your life to do all in your power for her, for what she has done can only be repaid by the greatest kindness. And your faithful father comes in for his share. Always be true and kind to him for he is suffering the greatest disappointment that ever comes in our lives.
I have always felt so sorry not to have seen more of your mother, but what I did see of her pleased me highly. I could see her great worth and I feel she was a great loss to all. Always keep her fresh in your memory. Talk of her; tell little anecdotes and in this way the older you get the grander she will seem to you.
Lovingly, Uncle Mort
March 24, 1929 [Seems that some of this was written after 1924.]
Mortimer A. Leggett
I am going to tell you a story that is true. One time your Grandmother Randall [Anna Seaman (Leggett) Randall, 1848-1934] with [her son, Mort's nephew] little baby Mort [Mortimer Allen Randall, 1885-?] and myself, started from Windsor on a Canadian boat for Chicago. It was Sunday and as there was a minister on board it is always expected he will be asked to preach. There began a hunt for someone to play the piano. Your grandmother offered and I kept Mort who squalled all the way up the St. Clair River, so hard that people on the shore cheered him. But I did not.
Your Grandma told the purser that I would play the fiddle if they could find one, which they did and we played that night which they seemed to enjoy. The next night, we played for them to dance and they went wild. They made such a fuss over us that we came back with them, and that night the dance was on full blast and afterwards I went up with the
mate up into the wheel house. I noticed he was very much excited having slowed down the boat and giving orders very fast to the wheel man.
I found out the first mate had left his post thinking the other mate would be soon there. Thus the man at the wheel had no one to direct him and was out of his course and got in among the rocks. After while, the mate got out of the dangerous spot and said, "Thank God, for we have been in among the rocks and I expected we would strike one at any minute." No one on board could have, known this, and when we left the boat at Windsor, the Captain invited us to go to Montreal with him and said we had made his trip the pleasantest during the season. It only showed how fiddling came near breaking a boat.
Now I'm going to tell you of a trip Father and I had in the north woods. It was in the fifties that the government of the United States offered to sell their wild land in Michigan for twelve and a half cents per acre. The idea was to get the state settled. The proviso was that the people that bought it were to settle upon it. Now Grandfather (my Father) bought 500 acres for himself and 200 for each of his children, but the government would not let minors hold the land, but Father held his. And twas thus that we hired a man to take us out to see it. So, one cold winter day, we started out with a team of horses and a farm wagon with no springs and we drover to Saginaw that day, a drive of seventy miles.
The next morning, we started again and drove all day over frozen rivers and roads cut through the woods, the worst possible, and by night we had arrived at the lumber camp. The people took us in for the night and the next morning started again. Father and the old man on horse back and I on my own feet. We had to follow an Indian trail for twenty miles to reach the land and it was through a dense forest of pine. Sometimes the trees were so close together that the horse had to wedge through the trail and the trail had worn so deep by the Indian ponies' feet and so rounding (p. 148, L.8) [?] that it almost used me up to walk in it. The Indians turn their toes in so the hollow path does not bother them. We were going along nicely and had come to an open place in the woods, when we saw coming a great lot of men and dogs. They were Indians. When they got up to us they stopped and demanded whiskey and we had a good deal of trouble getting away from them. And as I was walking behind I thought I would be a gone one. My hair stood right up for I expected I would be scalped. Well I was scared but no harm came of it. At last we came to a river and the bridge over it was a great pine tree and the Indians had cut notches in it for foot steps. When we crossed the river we were on the land we came to see. The old man, "Josh Terry," and old back woodsman said, "Now I will build a house for you." So he took his hatchet and soon made what he called a house. Then he said get in there and I'll swear you built a house and occupied it. Then he said we must dig a well. So we hunted around and found some stones, he digging a hole with his hatchet and soon a well was built. We had brought some scrubby apple trees. We set them out so you can see that we had built a house, dug a well, and planted an orchard and had thus improved the land and in time got a title from the government. Thus beating the devil around the bush. On the other side of this river there had been an Indian camp and in a tree on every limb was a fine pair of deer antlers. We were told that the Indians kept track of the number killed. In
this way he packed a lot on the horses and we have some in our house. I carried my rifle all that day, but saw no deer although the woods were full of them. Father and old Josh talked too much, scared the deer.
That night at the lumberman's camp, we were told that a few days before, an Indian had offered him a pair of Elk horns that were so large that when he stood them on their tips, he, a six foot man, could walk under them, and the Indian offered them for three dollars. We wished we could have got them.
Barney was fencing a poor and wet piece of land that was no good. I said, "Barney what are you fencing that poor piece of land for? Why a cow would starve in there." Well he said, "I was fencing it to keep the poor thing out."
I (p. 152, L. 10) [?] once said to Barney, "What is the difference between an Irishman and a hog?" "Well," says Barney, "the only difference is that I am an Irishman and you are the hog."
How I got my first load of lumber for our house. I went to Rajera for the lumber and stopped for the night at a little tavern. I was acquainted with the landlady and during the evening came to me and said a party of young folks had come for a dance and the fiddler had failed to come and they were so disappointed. I asked if she could get a fiddle and I played and after it was all over the boys handed me money enough to pay for my lumber.
Old Joe Smith [?-?], an old Pennsylvania Dutchman was a great friend of your Uncle Percy. In fact, Uncle Percy was never satisfied if Joe was not in the company they would hunt and fish and (p. 154, L. 8) [?]. When word came that Uncle Percy was killed, Old Joe went wild with grief, would have killed a horse that he was shoeing if others had not prevented him. I was at his home one night and he brought out all his children's photos for me to look at. At last he handed me one all wrapped up in gauze, I unwrapped it and it was a picture of Uncle Percy. "There," he says, "is the best one from them all. Oh my God! How I loved that boy."
Fred Barkman, an old blacksmith during our first days in Clintonville, the crudest blacksmith and dentist man I ever saw. He often said he didn't know how people could comb their hair every day, for he only combed his hair once a week and then it almost killed him. He told me one day that he owned three thirds of a boat and was going to buy the other third and have a boat of his own. He once bought a piece of land, one acre land and thirty-nine acres water. He said in York State, he had to drive his cows three miles to water and was going to have a piece that had plenty of water when he moved up into Clintonville and build the finest house in the neighborhood and spent money so freely. People thought Father wealthy. Old Fred one day presented Father with a bill of one hundred and thirty-five dollars. Father told him he had made a mistake and could not pay it, but said he would give him twenty-five dollars to call it square. Old Fred slapped Father on the back and said if everyone paid him like that he would be rich.
We had a queer old man, Gen. Ten Eyckd who joined us. One day I was shooting at a Hell Diver [a diving bird] with my rifle. The balls would hit the water and glance up into the air. The
Gen. was salting his sheep on the opposite shore and I did not see him. Pretty soon I heard a shout. "Stop your shooting. I am not afraid of your bullets, but you might hit some of my sheep."
Rastas where you get that pretty stone on your finger? Well you see, "Well you see, when my mother-in-law died, she gave me twelve hundred dollars to buy a stone to her memory. Well, this is the stone.
One time there was a barn raising and after the frame was up, a great table had been set under the trees. Gen. Ten Eyck sat at the head with good Father Earl beside him. Of course there was great noise among the men. The proprietor thought it would be nice to have Father Earl ask a blessing. He asked the Gen. to quiet the boys which he did his way. He stood up and rapped on the table and shouted out, "Hear ye, hear ye, hear ye! If by the gods you will stop that infernal noise we will open this banquet with prayer!" A hush came and the Gen. tapped the good old parson on the back and said, "Proceed, Elder."
I was listening to a lawsuit in Pontiac when the principle lawyer was to make his plea to the jury in the afternoon. He spent the noon hour in propping himself up with strong drink and took a little too much. So when he commenced to talk it was of a mix of characters and the judge told him to stop and sit down, for he was intoxicated.
The man steadied himself on the table and said, "Is that the opinion of the court?" Yes, that is the opinion of the court. "And is that the decision of the court?" Yes, that is the decision of the court. "Well, may it please your honor, it is the most righteous decision that has been rendered during this term of court." and down he sat.
Two Swedes were walking along the railroad tracks when a train came behind them. One took one side of the track and the other failed to get out of the way. Arnie missed his companion and in walking up the tracks came upon a leg and further on an arm and finally to the mangled remains. Arnie looked at them, and then said, "I am afraid something must have happened to Ollie."
An Irishman told his son to learn to cut his nails with his left hand for he might lose his right hand some day.
An Irishman lay dying in the bed, his wife on the chair beside him. Biddy [Bridget = Irishwoman; probably derogatory] says, "Darling, is there anything I can do for you before you leave us?"
Pat says, "That pork roast smells so good. I think I might eat some of it"
Biddy says, "No darling, you can't have any of that for I am saving it for the wake."
Jimmy got on a wild colt by mistake. The colt plunged and ran. Pat was watching and as they came by him with Jimmy's arms around the horse's neck and his legs around his belly, Pat yells, "Get off! Why don't you jump off?" Jimmy says, "How the devil can I get off when it is all I can do to stick on!"
Aunt Kate just said to, "tell them about the Indians." Well it was no uncommon sight to see the road through Drayline Plains fairly blocked with Indians with their squaws and papooses and ponies that carried their tents and food. They were going to Detroit to get their bounty that the government gave them each year. They would camp near the lakes and would never interfere with anyone. There was a tribe of Indians on the Sashabaw
Plains and their chief's name was Sashibaw (Sisisaba) and one time while hunting on the banks of Silver lake encountered a great bear and they had a terrible battle. The bear with his claws and the Indian with his knife. They fought until both were killed and Sisibaw is buried on the banks of Silver Lake and a tablet is to be placed on his grave. Years ago an old pioneer told me that for years the Indians came and put pipes and tobacco on his grave.
The territory of Michigan was ceded to the United States, on the banks of Orchard Lake and a tablet marks the spot.
The Indian trail from Saginaw passed through our farm, and in some woods around here the trail is visible. The old logs can still be seen where they forded the (p.161, last line) [?] River.
I want to tell you of a picnic in [William Cullen] Bryant's barn in Roslyn. The whole neighborhood had gathered there and everybody having the time of their lives, when someone shouted that an old Gypsy was coming up the hill. Sure enough, she was coming and the excitement ran high. She was driving a little donkey hitched to a little wagon and it was all the little beast could do to pull her up the hill. At last she landed and was joyfully received by the company. She proved to be a fortune teller and was soon busy and it was a marvel to all how she could read the fortunes so closely, would make few mistakes in telling who young people were going to marry. Of course all would be rich and so it went on until all were told and the old Gypsy took her leave with her baskets well filled. Well, lo and behold, in going down the hill the little donkey ran away upsetting the wagon and throwing the old Gypsy out. All ran to her assistance, where, to the astonishment of all, they found that the old Gypsy was a man and none other than Park Godwin, Mr. Bryant's son-in-law. And as he knew the history of all the company, he had no trouble in telling their fortunes. It made great fun and it took some time to get the money back to the right owners.
...
Continued under the notes for Elrose's sister, Anita.
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