tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68631065497894533902024-03-20T06:24:09.050-07:00Everything Happens at the CrossroadsBrenda Remmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02463638352253693043noreply@blogger.comBlogger39125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863106549789453390.post-33594278485676651322011-07-12T09:23:00.000-07:002012-09-09T06:43:07.946-07:00The History of the Dabbs Family<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLLvNR0gs1cv5dziNRFF6kbD8RO7oeF6f-m-lC2Hcbc4B28R23JJp6NYrgysslOYxjj9YK4mUfUwYfNmdAHEUQNjvZ4PqCCqYG_olx7UDFK7EJQVBHxdKSuCzzrhXyZxQEAG23vsBjeC8/s1600/EW+Dabbs+%2526+Maude.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" m="m" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLLvNR0gs1cv5dziNRFF6kbD8RO7oeF6f-m-lC2Hcbc4B28R23JJp6NYrgysslOYxjj9YK4mUfUwYfNmdAHEUQNjvZ4PqCCqYG_olx7UDFK7EJQVBHxdKSuCzzrhXyZxQEAG23vsBjeC8/s320/EW+Dabbs+%2526+Maude.png" true="true" width="213" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">This is an online supplement to </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Everything Happens at the Crossroads</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">, a bound narrative history of Eugene Whitefield Dabbs and Maude McBride and their descendents, assembled and written by Brenda Bevan Remmes.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">This volume was issued privately in 2008. Its material and the material on this site are protected by copyright. The book is available in selected libraries throughout South Carolina.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">There is no information on this site concerning any living member of the Dabbs family. Fifty-five pages of the book are not published here. For additional information on the133 decendants of this one couple, please contact the author.<br />
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We invite family, friends, and passers by to browse these pages freely.</span> </span>Brenda Remmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02463638352253693043noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863106549789453390.post-77937598341115206462011-02-26T11:30:00.000-08:002011-07-10T07:27:09.781-07:00Introduction<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6-qYa9wn_pgsZs4HTpSzgHg5Alo-f5AnEOlvBqVm-0II2KK0RmqIo9KeoWmOA8BEYlxt1njD4K6m20pYT2D6zIt-_fKMIS8l-5gZd5fIZNGDj8K2SM6QNQExGhHtQWKkH2cCC4JIw2Qk/s1600/Rip+Raps.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6-qYa9wn_pgsZs4HTpSzgHg5Alo-f5AnEOlvBqVm-0II2KK0RmqIo9KeoWmOA8BEYlxt1njD4K6m20pYT2D6zIt-_fKMIS8l-5gZd5fIZNGDj8K2SM6QNQExGhHtQWKkH2cCC4JIw2Qk/s200/Rip+Raps.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">One of my cousins once told me that every week he would call his sister in New York City and ask her “What’s happening?” and she would always reply, “Nothing.” He then would call his children in Washington, DC, and ask them “What’s happening?” and they also would reply, “Nothing.” Finally, he would call his father at the Crossroads and ask him “What’s happening?” at which point his father would take a deep breath and proceed, “Ah, you’re not gonna believe everything that’s happening here this week.” His conclusion was that everything happens at the Crossroads.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">At 52 years of age, I returned to my roots, the Crossroads of Highways 378 and 527; 12 miles east of Sumter, South Carolina, and about seven miles south of the small community known as Mayesville. This rather non-descript Crossroads holds years of history and family lore. In the 1750’s early Scottish- Irish settlers founded a small settlement in the area and called it Salem. At the center of the settlement was built a log structure called Salem Black River Meeting House, which was established in 1759. Since the Anglican Church of England did not acknowledge that Protestants were entitled to name a church, the phrase Meeting House continued to be used until 1768, when it first was referred to as a Presbyterian Church.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">On January 1, 1800, the State Legislature of South Carolina united Salem, Claremont and Clarendon Counties into a new district called Sumterville. The particular intersection east of Sumterville, on the other side of the Black River Swamp, became known by the family who owned the land as McBride’s Corner. When Maude McBride married Eugene Whitefield Dabbs, and the Dabbs lineage multiplied throughout the community, it became more accurate to call it Dabbs Crossroads, although many local maps still list it as McBride’s.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The Crossroads is where Eugene Whitefield Dabbs and Alice Maude McBride Dabbs raised six children. Nestled back in the trees are four homes that have been passed down to subsequent generations. Each of these homes has a name: Rip Raps, Fern Park, Road’s End in-the-Pines, and Whitfield. The Dabbs family has a strong belief that the personality of every home is enhanced by giving it a name. While the homes have created places, it is the people who have created the stories and they are what this book is about – the stories.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">My grandmother, Stella Glascock Dabbs, strongly felt that each individual who sat at her dinner table had an obligation to provide conversational entertainment that merited the trouble of preparing the meal. Around that table, hundreds of hours of stories continued to be told as younger generations each learned the Dabbs-art of storytelling. The rule of thumb has always been that the entertainment value outweighs the need for fact. Thus, the oral history that follows is from stories that have been told and retold. I believe that there is factual truth to most of it. Great time has been put into documentation. Should you think, however, that one or more of the stories are a little far fetched, don’t be too sure. There is at least a smattering of truth to it all.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">From the time I was a child vacationing at the Crossroads, I have sat and listened as relatives have told these stories about one another and repeated bits of family history. The older I became, the more I realized what a unique collection of tales they had to tell, and I wanted to record much of what I had heard for future generations.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">As I began to write, more and more information appeared. I found old letters and pictures that had been packed away for decades. A few relatives had already done significant research into the genealogy of the family, and had information that was invaluable.</span></span><br />
<a name='more'></a>Brenda Remmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02463638352253693043noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863106549789453390.post-63148882636896142852011-02-26T11:15:00.000-08:002011-07-10T07:31:09.956-07:00Eugene Whitefield Dabbs: Heritage I<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjca_cAUPO29WqjqRqmkbipIaATJsMpAdaowzWNMQ7pBf6TTggc1TNbukJIy4lsNF78F1MTc6djaDzsyR6nEKJqVBXURmEte4vzDOLVgqa69YZKL6_XmkxMjW2Zcv8weaMBelabu8olGRA/s1600/EWD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjca_cAUPO29WqjqRqmkbipIaATJsMpAdaowzWNMQ7pBf6TTggc1TNbukJIy4lsNF78F1MTc6djaDzsyR6nEKJqVBXURmEte4vzDOLVgqa69YZKL6_XmkxMjW2Zcv8weaMBelabu8olGRA/s320/EWD.jpg" width="216" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Eugene Whitefield Dabbs</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The history of the Dabbs family (perhaps spelled “Dobbs”) has been passed down in stories from one generation to another. We believe the first ancestor to arrive in this country emigrated from England to Maryland, and was a descendent of Sir Richard Dabbs, Lord Mayor of London. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">We are told that he was not very well received, since he was not a Catholic and may have been a preacher of a different faith. From there, he and his family moved to Virginia, where he had two sons. One son settled in Henrico County (Richmond) and then Halifax County (southern Virginia bordering North Carolina). To date, there is no confirmation of these stories. While court records in Virginia make a reference to a Robert Dabbs in York County in 1670, and then in Henrico County in 1679, and to a Richard Dabbs in Lower Norfolk County in 1687, we have not been able to make a direct link to the Eugene Whitefield Dabbs family.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Around 1746 to 1747, and perhaps due to failing health, Joseph Dabbs began to sell his property holdings in Goochland County, and moved his family south to Lunenburg County, to a section that eventually became Charlotte County, Virginia. In late 1748 or early 1749, Joseph Dabbs died, leaving a wife, Nancy, and a number of young children. The administration of the estate of Joseph Dabbs was concluded in 1754, and can be found in Lunenburg County, Will Book 1, 1746-1762, beginning on page 172. Although recorded in a Will Book, these court records indicate that Joseph Dabbs died without a will, which caused his property to pass in share to his widow and children. Of note, his estate included at least seven slaves.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><u>What we know about the children of Joseph Dabbs, Sr.</u><u><br />
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By 1754, Nancy Hoggett Dabbs had remarried to a man named James Webb. James and Nancy, along with her daughters and youngest son, Joseph, moved to Wake County (Raleigh) North Carolina, and then to Anson County (Wadesboro), North Carolina, which borders South Carolina. Court records provide the following information about the children. </span></span><br />
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<ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><i>William Dabbs</i> remained in Charlotte County, Virginia. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">He died in 1804, and his estate administration can be found </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">in Will Book 2, page 297. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><i>Eleanor Dabbs</i> died an infant.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">In 1760, Mary Dabbs married Patrick Boggan (1731-</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">1816), an immigrant from Ireland, in Anson County, and died in that county in 1816. They had at least one child, Mary Boggan (1763-1830), who married John May (1756-1819). A deed involving the transfer of ownership of several slaves owned by William Dabbs (received from </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">his deceased sister, Eleanor and who had been received from the estate of her father, Joseph Dabbs) to Mary Dabbs Boggan has been used to verify the lineage of William, Mary and Eleanor as Joseph Dabbs’ children. (Deed Book B2, page 342, Anson County, recorded November 13, 1790).</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Richard Dabbs remained and became a prosperous and prominent citizen of Charlotte County, Virginia. After the death of his first wife (name unknown), he married Anna Hanna. Richard died in 1809, and his will, proven in Charlotte County in September 1809 (Will Book 3, page 11 , Charlotte County), contains bequests to a number </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">of children, including sons Joseph (the eldest), George, Richard, William, Josiah, and James; and daughters Polly Dabbs Lumpkin, Nancy Dabbs Gill, Sally Vaughn, and Elizabeth Dabbs Mitchell (wife of William Mitchell).</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">The third child from this family, Richard Dabbs, Jr., entered the Baptist ministry, establishing and leading several churches in Charlotte County. He was eventually called to serve as pastor of the first Baptist Church of Nashville, Tennessee, overseeing the building of that church and serving as its pastor until his death in 1825. Many Dabbs descendants from this family can now be found in Tennessee, Mississippi and Texas. In 1923, a letter found at fern Park addressed to Eugene Whitefield Dabbs from E.C. Dargan in Nashville, Tennessee, indicated that Mr. Dargan had spoken with a Dr. Dabbs, a descendent of Richard Dabbs, and had visited the old family home, which still incorporated the original log cabin of the Rev. Richard Dabbs, five miles outside of Nashville.</span></li>
</ul><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Below is the Eugene Whitefield Dabbs family line </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><i>(Click to Enlarge).</i></span><br />
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<a name='more'></a>The first ancestor of Eugene Whitefield Dabbs that we can confirm is Joseph Dabbs, who was born around 1700 to 1705. He was the great-great grandfather of Eugene Whitefield Dabbs. He settled in Goochland County, Virginia, Saint James Parish. In 1728, Goochland County was a portion of Henrico County, and is located roughly 30 miles due west of Richmond. Deed records reflect that Joseph Dabbs was a significant land owner in Goochland County. He married Nancy Hoggett, daughter of Anthony Hoggett, on July 1, 1733. Joseph and Nancy had several children between 1737 and 1746, including William, Mary, Eleanor, Richard, Anne and Joseph. The Eugene Whitefield Dabbs lineage continues through the youngest son, Joseph.Brenda Remmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02463638352253693043noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863106549789453390.post-16529965267068054142011-02-26T10:22:00.000-08:002011-07-10T09:44:00.424-07:00EWD: Heritage II<div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><u>Captain Joseph Dabbs</u></span></span></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>Son of Joseph Dabbs and Nancy Hoggett Dabbs, </i></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><i>Great-grandfather to Eugene Whitefield Dabbs</i></span></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><u><br />
</u></span></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Young Joseph Dabbs moved with his mother and step- father, James Webb, to Anson County. Noted Darlington County Historian, Horace Rudisill, reports seeing records that indicate Joseph Dabbs and another brother were boatmen on the Great Pee Dee River. They would have been responsible for ferrying people and their possessions down or across this river. Joseph Dabbs eventually settled in the Cheraw District of South Carolina, which includes present-day Chesterfield, Marlboro, and Darlington Counties, known as Craven District prior to 1769. (Land areas that we call “Counties” today were called “Districts” in South Carolina prior to 1868.) </span></span></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
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<a name='more'></a></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">A deed executed in July 1770, from Joseph Dabbs of Craven County, South Carolina, to James Webb, Jr., and others, reflects the transfer of ownership a number of farm animals. It states that this property is now the possession of James Webb, Sr., believed to be Nancy Dabbs’ second husband. (Book 7, page 321; Anson County, North Carolina.)</span></span></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Around 1768, Joseph Dabbs married Mary Hannah Kolb, sister of Colonel Abel Kolb, distinguished for his service to our nation during the American Revolution. Hannah and Abel Kolb’s father, Johannas Kolb, arrived in American in 1707 from Germany, and settled in Germantown, Pennsylvania, before moving to the Cheraw section of South Carolina in 1739.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Joseph and Hannah Kolb Dabbs established a home on Crooked Creek in the Welch Neck community. They had three children between 1769 and 1780: Nancy Dabbs, who married Benjamin Williams); Samuel Dabbs (grandfather to Eugene Whitefield Dabbs), who married Sarah Grove (this may have been spelled “Graves”); and William Dabbs, who married Martha Ellison. On May 8, 1771, Tillman Kolb deeded 650 acres of </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">his land to Joseph Dabbs. </span></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">During the Revolutionary War, Joseph Dabbs fought </span></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">on the side of the Patriot forces (Whigs), eventually advancing to the rank of Captain under the command of his brother-in- law, Colonel Abel Kolb. The exploits of Colonel Kolb and other revolutionary fighters in the Cheraw region of South Carolina are described in great detail in an historical book regarding the region entitled <i>History of the Old Cheraws</i>. Reprints of this book can be obtained at a nominal cost from the Southern Historical Press in Greenville, South Carolina.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">In this book, the deaths of Colonel Abel Kolb and Captain Joseph Dabbs are described in some detail. On April 8, 1781, a large group of South Carolinians loyal to the British cause (Tories), under the command of Captain Jones, secretly assembled near the Marlboro County seat with the object of surprising and capturing Colonel Kolb and capturing and destroying other Whig forces. This group of Tories was successful in surrounding the residence of Colonel Kolb, who eventually surrendered to the Tories in hopes of saving the lives of his wife and daughter who were present at his home. As Colonel Kolb was surrendering and contrary to orders, he was shot by a member of lower rank of the Tory forces. Several other adult males present were also shot and killed, and the home of Colonel Kolb was burned to the ground. It is reported that his wife and daughter, who were spared, dragged his body away from the home so that it would not be consumed by fire.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">After killing Colonel Kolb, Tories moved on to attack forces of Colonel Murphy that were stationed at Brown’s Mill, which was located near the home of Captain Joseph Dabbs on Muddy Creek. Upon arriving, the Tories found that most of Colonel Murphy’s forces had left several days earlier. Captain Joseph Dabbs had remained behind with a small group of men. Surprised and overwhelmed by the superior numbers, Joseph </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Dabbs and his men were also killed. Thus, on that same day in April, Hannah Kolb Dabbs lost both her husband and her brother in the battle for Independence.</span></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Colonel Abel Kolb is buried on the banks of the Great Pee Dee River in a family cemetery that is located on the left, just across the Great Pee Dee River as one would cross into Marlboro County from Society Hill on Highways 401 and 15. The Welch Neck community and Crooked Creek are located roughly two miles north, by taking County Road 912 to the left. Most likely, Captain Joseph Dabbs was buried in the same cemetery, due to his relationship to the Kolb family and because he died on the same date.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">All original cemetery markers in this family cemetery have been lost to time, and the only marker which presently exists is a newer stone in honor of Colonel Kolb. In the <i>History of the Old Cheraws</i>, Joseph Dabbs is described as a “useful citizen and well-tried Whig.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Following the untimely death of Captain Joseph Dabbs, Hannah Kolb Dabbs is reported to have remarried and conceived three more children. Little is known of Nancy Dabbs Williams or William Dabbs and their families. Samuel Dabbs moved to Darlington, South Carolina. Mills Atlas of 1820 shows a S. Dabbs, most likely Samuel, living roughly four miles due south of the city.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">___________________________________________</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
<div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><u>Samuel Dabbs</u></span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>Son of Captain Joseph Dabbs Grandfather to Eugene Whitefield Dabbs</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i><br />
</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Samuel Dabbs was a farmer, and deed records in Darlington District (County) reflect his acquisition of several large land tracts, including 50 acres north of Hell (sic) Hill Creek surveyed in 1814, and 419 acres south of Black Creek surveyed in 1818. Family stories say that Samuel Dabbs lost a large tract of land located near the present Fibre Industries plant in Darlington. This is significant, because the Dabbses have struggled with the cost of homes and taxes on land for generations. While outwardly prosperous, every generation has labored to hold onto the property that they owned.</span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Darlington Historian Rudisill states that there was a family cemetery in a large tract of land believed to have been owned and farmed by Samuel Dabbs, but any evidence of that cemetery no longer exists. Because of the loss of those cemetery records, we are unable to confirm the dates of birth and death of Samuel Dabbs, his wife, and most of the members of his family.</span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Samuel and Sarah Grove Dabbs had six children. There were: Joseph William Dabbs (b. January , 1813); Hannah E. Dabbs (never married); Samuel Richard; Benjamin William; Anna Elizabeth (never married); and John Quincy Adams (the father of Eugene Whitefield Dabbs). Much of what we know about this family is attributed to three dozen letters that were found in the attic of Road’s End in-the-Pines written from Joseph Dabbs to his brother, John Quincy Adams Dabbs and his two sisters.</span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">In addition, John Quincy wrote numerous letters to his wife while he was serving in the Confederacy. These letters are now housed at the Caroliniana Library in Columbia. Carolyn Dabbs Moore spent considerable time creating typed versions of these letters.</span></span></div></div>Brenda Remmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02463638352253693043noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863106549789453390.post-36871992471565816292011-02-26T10:00:00.000-08:002011-07-10T09:48:44.223-07:00EWD: Heritage III<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL618SUv_BaqEpZQDJ9ydtPuXD9AEnDGgZUQ42zObc8l7YCs0vT1cbSP2dPOlnw4sy7EhVjb51v-_b3POQOEN-OniCppb4yDiTAW7TCH5QhwDSvteCvfT-Ku6ADbCfNCIRijackL3qyMs/s1600/Joseph+William+Dabbs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL618SUv_BaqEpZQDJ9ydtPuXD9AEnDGgZUQ42zObc8l7YCs0vT1cbSP2dPOlnw4sy7EhVjb51v-_b3POQOEN-OniCppb4yDiTAW7TCH5QhwDSvteCvfT-Ku6ADbCfNCIRijackL3qyMs/s320/Joseph+William+Dabbs.jpg" width="210" /></a></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><u>Joseph William Dabbs</u> </span></span></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>Older brother to John Quincy Dabbs</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i><br />
</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Joseph William Dabbs became a successful cotton trader working out of Yazoo City, Mississippi, and kept up a written correspondence with his family in South Carolina, frequently enclosing money to help out with the farm expenses. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">In a series of letters written to his family from 1839 to 1855, Joseph describes the fluctuation of cotton prices as they pertain to what’s happening around the world. He advises his brother on what to plant and when to sell. He suggests that his brother, Richard, is having problems “brought on by drink” and recommends he return home to Darlington, which he does seven years later.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Joseph bemoans the fact that he hasn’t found a wife, despite a number of reference to meeting beautiful women, and he encourages his family to help find a Darlington woman who might put up with an old man of 42. According to Billy Dabbs, the story doesn’t end there. Ultimately, he says he was told that when Joseph died, his family learned, much to their dismay, that he had not only a wife, but also several children whom he’d never mentioned in any of his letters. Reports are that there are numerous individuals in Mississippi today bearing the Dabbs name. We do not know how much Joseph and Richard contributed to that lineage.</span> <br />
<a name='more'></a></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">A portrait of Joseph William Dabbs hangs at Fern Park in the home of Martha Dabbs Greenway. In one of his letters, Joseph mentions a shawl that he sent as a gift to his sister, Hannah. That shawl was passed down through the family to Sophie McBride Dabbs, and was left in her will to her nephew, Joseph Samuel Dabbs, youngest son of EW Dabbs, Jr.</span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">At the reading of the will, no one could find the shawl, leaving Joe without his inheritance. Whether Joe minds or not is debatable,</span></span></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">but one of his daughters might want to resume the search for a 19th-century shawl.</span></span></div>Brenda Remmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02463638352253693043noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863106549789453390.post-9710477114664833172011-02-26T09:30:00.000-08:002011-07-10T09:59:39.772-07:00EWD: Heritage IV<div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><u>John Quincy Adams Dabbs</u></span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>Son of Samuel Dabbs Father of Eugene Whitefield Dabbs</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Eugene Whitefield Dabbs was born in Darlington County, South Carolina, on April 15, 1864. His parents were John Quincy Adams Dabbs and Elizabeth Euphrasia Hoole. John Quincy Adams Dabbs settled in the Black Creek Community in Dovesville, Darlington County, perhaps on the tract of land referenced earlier that was owned by his father, Samuel. </span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">John Quincy was a farmer and a member of the Black Creek Baptist Church. Records from that church prior to the Civil War are reported to contain numerous oratories given by John Quincy Adams Dabbs in support of slavery. Of note, the members of the Dabbs family both past and present have always been known for their strong opinions on a variety of controversial subjects, which they are willing to share at a moment’s notice with anyone who will listen.</span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">John Quincy Adams Dabbs married late, at the age of 37. He was very good friends with Axalla John Hoole and, in correspondence between them, Axalla asks John Quincy to check regularly on the welfare of his mother, brothers and sisters while he is in Kansas. John Quincy does better than that. He marries Axalla’s sister, Euphrasia Hoole (May 20, 1826 – July 15,1919).</span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">In the Kansas Historical Quarterly, Vol. 3 , #2 , there is a series of letters that Lt. Col. A.J. Hoole wrote regarding “A Southerner’s Viewpoint of the Kansas Situation.” He left Darlington with his wife, Elizabeth (Betsie) G. Brunson, on his wedding day, March 20, 1856, to go to Kansas to try to help with the efforts to defeat the Abolitionists. He was a strong supporter of states’ rights, and firmly believed that Kansas should be allowed to become a slave-holding state. He writes to his good friend, John Quincy Adams Dabbs, on June 15, 1856:</span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“I have made only $51 since I have been here and I fear that I shall be hardly able to make money enough to keep soul and body together while I stay in this Territory, but here I am resolved to remain until the difficulties are settled. This would be a great country for one who wishes for nothing except to have a plenty to eat, but it don’t suit me at all. The fertility of the soil does not compensate one for other inconveniences. I saw some of the finest wheat yesterday that I ever saw; it has just headed out and about as high as my shoulder. If you could see the quantity of nice rich milk which one of the most ordinary cows give here you would never bragg [sic] on your little cow. One of my neighbors has a small, trifling looking cow that gives over a peck of milk at one milking and I believe they always leave half for the calf. We can get as much milk and butter as we want for the trouble of going about 150 yards. This is truly a great place to live so far as eating is concerned."</span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“We live in a very small uncomfortable little loghouse but it is about on par with the rest of the houses in this territory. Betsie and I get on finely, she is a pretty good cook but not so good as you as she has had but little practice, but she is improving every day. Cooking is about all that she does and that is no small task as I have such an appetite since I came here. . . Tell your dear Mother that I am trying to reform my evil ways but old Satan has still a strong hold upon me. - AJH”</span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">On September 6, 1856, he writes a moving letter to “my ever dear friend, Quince... who has always been as a brother to me."</span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“I was almost in one [a skirmish] so near that I drew sight on a man several times, but was commanded not to shoot by my Capt. who was behind me. This was on the 5th just when Lane came to attack Lecompton. I have always thought that I would be very much agitated under such circumstances, but I was surprised at myself. I was much less excited than if I were going to shoot a beef. My company was posted in the edge of a ravine as skirmishes came</span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">almost in common gunshot, it was near enough for the rifles we had. An account of this you will see in The Flag. What I commenced to tell you was my feelings. When I was taking aim at the man before me, and expecting every minute on the word fire, I was cool enough to commune with myself in this way. Now, if I hit that fellow I will be sending a poor soul, perhaps unprepared, to Eternity. I hate to do it, but it can’t be helped. If I don’t kill him, he may kill me, but I did not feel the least apprehensive of being killed myself. I thought, however, if I am killed, May God have mercy on my soul. As it was, neither shot. Lane drew off his men.</span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I saw the man that I had been aiming at march away and I felt glad that I escaped having to shoot at him.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Axalla John Hoole returned to Darlington on December 5, 1857, with his wife and children, Ada Constantia, William Brunson, and Axalla John Hoole, II. He was initially the captain of the Darlington, South Carolina, Riflemen and then Lt. Col. of the Eighth South Carolina Volunteer Regiment Kershaw’s Brigade. In D. Augustus Dickert’s History of Kershaw’s Brigade, tribute is paid to Axalla John Hoole for his bravery and leadership abilities. Included is a beautiful letter he wrote to his wife, Betsie, two days before he died. He died on Sept. 20, 1863, at the Battle of Chickamauga. He is buried at the Brunson graveyard near Darlington. It is said that his wife struggled considerably following his death, and carried a pistol with her daily as she worked as a seamstress. A monument to Axalla has been put in place at the Grove Hill Cemetery near Darlington, where many of the Hooles are also buried.</span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">John Quincy Adams Dabbs was a member of the Pee Dee Artillery and served during the Civil War in the 2nd Company C, Manigualt’s Battalion South Carolina Artillery. Later, he served in other battalions headed by Pegram, Walker & Manly.</span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">In 1912, J.W. Brunson, a civil engineer (possible brother of Betsie Brunson Hoole), writes from Florence to Euphrasia</span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">about the memories of “your old house near the mineral springs, Zella and Stin [Zella was short for Axalla], and his chickens and the horse which stepped when told....[Stin was reported to have been quite the horse-trainer]. Of the pitcher stained by the minerals in the water.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 13px Times; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">He talks of firing side-by-side with John Q. [sic] in Fredericksburg and how he thought they would both die for sure. He takes great pleasure in the fact that he assisted to get the cross which John Quincy Dabbs so gallantly and respectfully wore. Euphrasia’s youngest brother, Stanislaus (Uncle Stin), would also receive the cross indicating courage and honor during the war. It now hangs in Fern Park in Martha Dabbs Greenway’s kitchen.</span></span></div><br />
<a name='more'></a>Brenda Remmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02463638352253693043noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863106549789453390.post-85101433593209751562011-02-26T09:00:00.000-08:002011-07-10T10:01:07.696-07:00EWD: Life I<div style="font: 11px Times; margin: 0px;"></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">John Quincy Dabbs and Euphrasia Hoole had two sons: Eugene Whitefield Dabbs, born April 15,1864; and his brother, James Hoole Dabbs, born in 1865.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7VLe2YgZyquxu_UcoKHX3ypqnwgXUCVlGc6BLoZ2TSqPUKuoGh6MUekofmQauaNpHAWcJKFz7Sv-VIRm2Rc1S5SZXJ6011bNw5q0Y7wYnJNyXuSPY9Uiw1uhv8OgHL4ozEBPLg0dVO5s/s1600/John+Hoole.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7VLe2YgZyquxu_UcoKHX3ypqnwgXUCVlGc6BLoZ2TSqPUKuoGh6MUekofmQauaNpHAWcJKFz7Sv-VIRm2Rc1S5SZXJ6011bNw5q0Y7wYnJNyXuSPY9Uiw1uhv8OgHL4ozEBPLg0dVO5s/s320/John+Hoole.jpg" width="205" /></span></span></a></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Eugene’s first name was probably after his mother’s brother, Eugene Samuel Hoole, who moved to Eufaula, Alabama, and became a doctor. One reference gives 1856 as his year of death; however, reference is made in his brother Stin’s obituary that he had one brother living in Alabama who died in 1901.</span></span><br />
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</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifJ4HwMT9gZarJ18E2iCtUQyASwmOpFj0F0C3PYOJPxF4h62IXZZ-qpFDf9rIUcC5mqivbUoywy9LgPVtmVkr8uJCXsIbxqgWl5YPipAgGvoAYO-zCTmx_xhagTuPOFUgVhVskfxUCR3c/s1600/Eugene+Hoole.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifJ4HwMT9gZarJ18E2iCtUQyASwmOpFj0F0C3PYOJPxF4h62IXZZ-qpFDf9rIUcC5mqivbUoywy9LgPVtmVkr8uJCXsIbxqgWl5YPipAgGvoAYO-zCTmx_xhagTuPOFUgVhVskfxUCR3c/s200/Eugene+Hoole.jpg" width="100" /></span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Eugene’s middle name, Whitefield, was in honor of George Whitefield, a traveling evangelist whose religious views were part of the Great Awakening of the 1730s and 1740s. This evangelist traveled throughout eastern portions of the United States during the </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">late 1700s and early 1800s and was renowned for his oratory skills. The name is pronounced as Whit-field and not White-field. In later spellings the “e” was sometimes eliminated to coincide with the </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">pronunciation. Since it has become a common name within the Dabbs family, it is not unusual to see it spelled both ways. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Eugene’s </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">brother, James Hoole Dabbs, was named after his grandfather Hoole. James died at the age of 20 and never had any children.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">John Quincy Adams died in 1880, and his second son, James, died five years later. A marker that jointly bears the names of James Hoole Dabbs and John Quincy Adams Dabbs with </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">their years of birth and death can be found in the cemetery of the Darlington first Presbyterian Church.</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The inscription for the elder reads “Mark the perfect man; and behold the upright for the end of that man is peace.” For the younger it reads “Safe in the arms of Jesus.” Due to the fact that Euphrasia had very little money at the time of her husband’s and son’s deaths, it would be safe to guess that Eugene Whitefield Dabbs had the marker placed in the cemetery in memory of his father and brother at a later date.</span></span></span><br />
<a name='more'></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Notes written by E.W. Dabbs the day after his mother’s death on July 16, 1919, </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">detail a life until her mid-fifties that was harsh and challenging.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">He describes his mother as a devout Presbyterian and a member of the Darlington Presbyterian Church. He mentions that the family, regardless of having a limited income, religiously gave 20 to 25 percent of their earnings to their respective churches, the Presbyterian Church in Darlington and Black Creek Baptist Church.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">In a will written by Eugene Whitefield Dabbs prior to the death of his second wife, Eugene leaves a </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">scholarship to Thornwell Orphanage in memory of his mother and brother, who were members of The First Presbyterian Church in Darlington, and then a matching scholarship to Connie Maxwell Orphanage in memory of his father and Aunt Hannah, who were members of Black Creek Baptist Church. He does not </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">specify which church he, himself, was a member of as a young man; however, we do know that, after his father’s death and their move to the Privateer Section of South Carolina, E.W. Dabbs and his mother became members of the Wedgefield Presbyterian Church.</span></span>Brenda Remmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02463638352253693043noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863106549789453390.post-54498111217863539902011-02-25T05:51:00.000-08:002011-02-27T15:44:31.395-08:00EWD: Life II<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwjU-b-3mtOZTZb8sIv7sE5lRzOJxWtUtUlxVNsgE7nyyT-p1IrxZROm0evwK-n-bz6HR7g1rL8ZSJOvAil52gHWV2reLglIptfAw2vToP1vR6xcBXn_UTp5Tdm68q1X9SKKGXX8fSzSc/s1600/Euphrasia+Hoole.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwjU-b-3mtOZTZb8sIv7sE5lRzOJxWtUtUlxVNsgE7nyyT-p1IrxZROm0evwK-n-bz6HR7g1rL8ZSJOvAil52gHWV2reLglIptfAw2vToP1vR6xcBXn_UTp5Tdm68q1X9SKKGXX8fSzSc/s400/Euphrasia+Hoole.jpg" width="261" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Euphrasia and John Quincy struggled during the Civil War and Reconstruction. At the end of the war, and following John Quincy’s death, finances were in such shambles that Eugene writes that her friends and neighbors advised Euphrasia to put the youngest son in an orphanage and send the eldest out of town to work so that she might seek a housekeeper’s position. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">In response to this advice, he quotes her as saying: “No, to the limits of my strength I will keep a home for those whom God has given me.” This she did, until her son was able to provide a home for her and a life that was ultimately filled with grandchildren and less worry.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><a name='more'></a></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Eugene was studying journalism at the University of South Carolina. With the sudden death of his father, he was unable to continue his education and returned home to help support his mother, grandmother, and younger brother. Sometime around 1882 , the family moved to the Privateer Section of South Carolina to try farming there. Specifics about this move are not clear. Most probably, there was some land available for them to rent with a satisfactory dwelling on it and they made the move.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">A letter written by Euphrasia on January 13 , 1882 , is postmarked, Sumter, South Carolina, and refers to her mother (Elizabeth Stanley Hoole) as being fretful and “never seems very happy or contented.”</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">She continues to say, however, “We have the most comfortable house I have ever lived in. We have plenty of room indoors but the outbuildings are in a very dilapidated condition. Then we are so far from church and any Depot. If Mother is well enough for me to leave her and the weather permits Eugene and I propose going to Wedgefield church next Sunday. It is 8 or 10 miles </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">but Sumter will be our church for the next two years, I think.” </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">In her obituary, it states that Euphrasia Hoole Dabbs was a member of Wedgefield Church for 11 years and a member of Salem Black River Presbyterian for 25 years.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">E.W. Dabbs would have been 18 years at this time. Eleven years later, he would marry Alice</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Maude McBride. </span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIaB4u3Vztj_kNS2e3VBely81vl84VjBlXqvuyPuV7LC17dSr_DGJg4pFMFp1RifM2EZnlB4gfxeFMzt3oaRvYT7vwXobXv0k6udI6orLdTOftsDYJX4G5ru-utTeBQNYxDTMz1e-6jyg/s1600/Sudie+Furman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIaB4u3Vztj_kNS2e3VBely81vl84VjBlXqvuyPuV7LC17dSr_DGJg4pFMFp1RifM2EZnlB4gfxeFMzt3oaRvYT7vwXobXv0k6udI6orLdTOftsDYJX4G5ru-utTeBQNYxDTMz1e-6jyg/s200/Sudie+Furman.jpg" width="123" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Consequently, there were several years of farming that occurred between his first arrival in the Sumter area and his first marriage. During this time, his brother James would die in 1885. His grandmother Hoole would die in 1887. He would court Sudie Furman. He would move from the Privateer section to McBride’s Corner, where he would work for the Witherspoons as an overseer. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Then for a short time, he would go to Alabama (perhaps on the advice of his Hoole relatives living there) and try to make some money in the steel factories. </span><br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPJlEqdXOj5HdxgahDq_vgy2XwGW4z2XeiiZH2JtmdedfqYKPOyrD6gLMR0h3iWCOCvJXMF7lx2mGw5kwCizL-OXP3wjGsaI4zDsNpBEPAea8WZvkMnd3Fjl0WSWhdSEShtvKnfUSqY5I/s1600/Richard+Furman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPJlEqdXOj5HdxgahDq_vgy2XwGW4z2XeiiZH2JtmdedfqYKPOyrD6gLMR0h3iWCOCvJXMF7lx2mGw5kwCizL-OXP3wjGsaI4zDsNpBEPAea8WZvkMnd3Fjl0WSWhdSEShtvKnfUSqY5I/s320/Richard+Furman.jpg" width="222" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dr. Richard Furman<br />
<i>Great-grandfather to Susan Miller Furman<br />
President of the First Baptist Convention in America.<br />
Laid the groundwork for Furman University, named in his honor.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Uncle Stin (Euphrasia’s youngest brother) would join Eugene and his mother in their home on Highway 527 in 1895, after Eugene’s marriage to Maude McBride. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">It was while he was in the Privateer section that Eugene Whitefield Dabbs met Susan (Sudie) Miller Furman, the daughter of Dr. John Furman and Susan Miller Furman. Her great-grandfather was Dr. Richard Furman of Charleston, a prominent minister and president of the first Baptist convention in America, who laid the groundwork for the establishment of Furman Theological university. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">It was there that her grandfather, Dr. Samuel Furman, became a professor. In 1859, Sudie’s father moved from Georgia to the Privateer Section, where he practiced medicine and oversaw farming operations at Cornhill Plantation.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Eugene Whitefield Dabbs courted Susan (Sudie) Miller Furman and asked her to be his wife. Sudie’s father felt that Eugene had little to offer his daughter financially or socially and refused to approve of the marriage. (This was not the first time that a suitor was rejected by Sudie’s family. Over 5 letters to John B. Miller, the first Master of Equity in Sumterville, dating from 182 1 to 184 9, were found in the attic at Fern Park. John B. Miller was Sudie’s grandfather on her mother’s side of the family. In one of these letters, a cousin begs her uncle John to intercede on her behalf and speak kindly of a music teacher she wishes to marry despite her parents’ refusal to approve of the marriage.)</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIWzUnB1TTl9q6JsZL7n6H5PCA9EKIvv-AH4jZkW22yXjGYlccfisp2xpfSm8mdbCZisoAVCgtlijEw3_gh97SqtqQiPMZfoW08dUfJg3zCQgRv5cYyuRsvF7erszdJKbRLOq44OJWjRM/s1600/Eugene+to+Sudie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Sudie Furman dutifully obeyed her parents’ wishes and remained at home taking care of them until their deaths. She traveled extensively to visit friends and became involved with the Mary Hanley Society of Bethel, a Women’s Mission Society located at Society Hill. Through them, she began a running correspondence with missionaries in various locations. After her father’s death in 190 3, she left the country for Cuba for a year, before returning to South Carolina and traveling north to Richmond and New York City where she worked as a nurse. On the back of an old picture of farmland from Egypt farms is written “Miss Sudie Furman, Merry </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Christmas Happy New Year -- 50,000 lbs. Hay of finest quality, peanuts & grass from 30 acres. Can Cuba or Cornhill beat ‘Egypt’? E.W.D.” Since there is no </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">date, it is not known when Eugene Whitefield Dabbs sent this picture-card, although one would expect it was after the death of his first wife, and obviously after Sudie returned from Cuba. Regardless, Sudie kept the card and would later bring it back with her to the Crossroads.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIWzUnB1TTl9q6JsZL7n6H5PCA9EKIvv-AH4jZkW22yXjGYlccfisp2xpfSm8mdbCZisoAVCgtlijEw3_gh97SqtqQiPMZfoW08dUfJg3zCQgRv5cYyuRsvF7erszdJKbRLOq44OJWjRM/s1600/Eugene+to+Sudie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIWzUnB1TTl9q6JsZL7n6H5PCA9EKIvv-AH4jZkW22yXjGYlccfisp2xpfSm8mdbCZisoAVCgtlijEw3_gh97SqtqQiPMZfoW08dUfJg3zCQgRv5cYyuRsvF7erszdJKbRLOq44OJWjRM/s320/Eugene+to+Sudie.jpg" width="320" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; font-size: small;"></span> </span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd5-qjn6L8qBMgD6IhHIUNiD_5g73-FRL74YdjJ3ZthI_hFptYtStVYNqSGv67iinth6wx8j0iJeCvJdeVCBkS1NnKzX1cInDM8SC5VyZtDPseoKyzeodAF8LTRFmEwUnoQ72mUhxsxc0/s1600/Kate+Furman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd5-qjn6L8qBMgD6IhHIUNiD_5g73-FRL74YdjJ3ZthI_hFptYtStVYNqSGv67iinth6wx8j0iJeCvJdeVCBkS1NnKzX1cInDM8SC5VyZtDPseoKyzeodAF8LTRFmEwUnoQ72mUhxsxc0/s320/Kate+Furman.jpg" width="184" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">After his proposal to Sudie was rejected and his farming efforts failed, Eugene accepted a job as an overseer for Hammie Witherspoon on the Coldstream Plantation south of Salem Black River Presbyterian Church near McBride’s Corner. Here, he began courting Alice “Maude” McBride, the daughter of the deceased James McBride and his widow, Sophronia Warren </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">McBride. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">The James McBride home, better known as Rip Raps, is the oldest and best known of the homes at the Crossroads. from Alice Maude McBride and other members of the McBride family, Eugene Whitefield Dabbs and his children inherited considerable land holdings. Due to the significance of this land, it seems appropriate to focus the story of the Dabbs-McBride marriage on the family of his (first) wife, Maude McBride.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">_________________________________________________</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTPZ9L2kv-ctnyejT7KVvjCoodHg6UtjKuuDrgK-DhuWnamRPCB8Ybu73hdBDX6MvDLfb5xJJzdYAkOb2-ntNdz1vtFuNCyvAhg5LsydwdXeIC-d22NHr5-P3yRpEFGPGZ2lTJWkCrCTU/s1600/Sudie+Furman+Family.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTPZ9L2kv-ctnyejT7KVvjCoodHg6UtjKuuDrgK-DhuWnamRPCB8Ybu73hdBDX6MvDLfb5xJJzdYAkOb2-ntNdz1vtFuNCyvAhg5LsydwdXeIC-d22NHr5-P3yRpEFGPGZ2lTJWkCrCTU/s320/Sudie+Furman+Family.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Click to Enlarge</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd5-qjn6L8qBMgD6IhHIUNiD_5g73-FRL74YdjJ3ZthI_hFptYtStVYNqSGv67iinth6wx8j0iJeCvJdeVCBkS1NnKzX1cInDM8SC5VyZtDPseoKyzeodAF8LTRFmEwUnoQ72mUhxsxc0/s1600/Kate+Furman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a></div></div>Brenda Remmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02463638352253693043noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863106549789453390.post-77335318991445839842011-02-24T16:10:00.000-08:002011-02-27T16:33:56.789-08:00The Mystery of Uncle Stin<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMABU12bVrfPW6LUt-2M-AlDExVprrqVkLzh7eHtBEV4XYchfQSnKJD0mLU98AEYZ6OA20Ys1oOTYe3oBIEcAH5nLRs46r3BW0KP9-X7tv1QtvnXTSpv56ZUru-3xf3YfOLZuMi-V5ZtM/s1600/Uncle+Stin+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMABU12bVrfPW6LUt-2M-AlDExVprrqVkLzh7eHtBEV4XYchfQSnKJD0mLU98AEYZ6OA20Ys1oOTYe3oBIEcAH5nLRs46r3BW0KP9-X7tv1QtvnXTSpv56ZUru-3xf3YfOLZuMi-V5ZtM/s320/Uncle+Stin+1.jpg" width="207" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I have tried in vain to identify </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">countless pictures which were left without the benefit of names on them. Some of them are eloquent and deserve to be known. Unfortunately, far too many remain a mystery. Every glimmer I got into the character of “Uncle Stin” (Stanilaus Hoole) made me want to know this man more; and yet, no one ever remembers seeing a picture of him, nor could they identify him among the countless anonymous photos. So, I have picked my three favorites for obvious reasons. I do believe that one of these is Uncle Stin. You decide. (Click photos to enlarge.)</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqXT4cz85DTX1WWRW9MMmnBcPVGApDpuol29ySvrSSVJCPBkfbrzmg-VyRZCUjYy4PsIThfsf7TZ6zsbKV9bAmINihLnOmPZRWTfAs7S-mKQL1o6H8hPajUsOQQTql0vd3UIFu9l2IgKI/s1600/Uncle+Stin+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqXT4cz85DTX1WWRW9MMmnBcPVGApDpuol29ySvrSSVJCPBkfbrzmg-VyRZCUjYy4PsIThfsf7TZ6zsbKV9bAmINihLnOmPZRWTfAs7S-mKQL1o6H8hPajUsOQQTql0vd3UIFu9l2IgKI/s320/Uncle+Stin+2.jpg" width="196" /></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqXT4cz85DTX1WWRW9MMmnBcPVGApDpuol29ySvrSSVJCPBkfbrzmg-VyRZCUjYy4PsIThfsf7TZ6zsbKV9bAmINihLnOmPZRWTfAs7S-mKQL1o6H8hPajUsOQQTql0vd3UIFu9l2IgKI/s1600/Uncle+Stin+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqXT4cz85DTX1WWRW9MMmnBcPVGApDpuol29ySvrSSVJCPBkfbrzmg-VyRZCUjYy4PsIThfsf7TZ6zsbKV9bAmINihLnOmPZRWTfAs7S-mKQL1o6H8hPajUsOQQTql0vd3UIFu9l2IgKI/s1600/Uncle+Stin+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Point of interest, his headstone at Brick Church is the only one in the row of Dabbses that is facing backwards, because it was the first one in the row to be placed. Originally, it was felt that the individual reading the name on the stone should be facing the church while they read. This was later reversed, so that the name on the stone was facing the church.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">_____________________________</span></span><br />
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</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-g0dAUhmdqN9ZmuC-qhQPVB1H4gai9luqWYkgEv1k57yEsPSvUSlbVVjWPCFA1e-Ln5E80oflKFBBqcZESWthmHYdPx939ewY8COG45cVVh1-x-Gebf2h9-GLglExfeL5vHz1HUdc6mA/s1600/Uncle+Stin+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-g0dAUhmdqN9ZmuC-qhQPVB1H4gai9luqWYkgEv1k57yEsPSvUSlbVVjWPCFA1e-Ln5E80oflKFBBqcZESWthmHYdPx939ewY8COG45cVVh1-x-Gebf2h9-GLglExfeL5vHz1HUdc6mA/s320/Uncle+Stin+3.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">_____________________________________</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">____</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span>Brenda Remmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02463638352253693043noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863106549789453390.post-13164685458043516512011-02-22T17:34:00.000-08:002011-07-10T07:42:48.824-07:00Maude McBride: Heritage I<div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixC-zKa5lgIWn2hO6hu5bcQZfXXaGXdgL7ggfxggUhTwGX8Z1sj62oo1k33MqFFjNfhAT51ZbWQNILBlzrRVAsJtYDPYgXLo-LRsmSoTWZXN8_rtMT4u6wcobz08lohlp-s1OuivLK2Sg/s1600/Rip+Raps+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixC-zKa5lgIWn2hO6hu5bcQZfXXaGXdgL7ggfxggUhTwGX8Z1sj62oo1k33MqFFjNfhAT51ZbWQNILBlzrRVAsJtYDPYgXLo-LRsmSoTWZXN8_rtMT4u6wcobz08lohlp-s1OuivLK2Sg/s320/Rip+Raps+2.jpg" width="233" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The history of the McBride family begins not with a family member, but with a landowner from times past. The McBride home place, better known today as Rip Raps, is the oldest and best known of the homes at the Crossroads. It is located on lands owned originally by Peter Mellet, who received the land through a land grant from King George II of England. That land grant still hangs in the hallway of the home today. James Bradley purchased 500 acres of this land from Peter Mellet in 1750. James Bradley was an original settler in the Salem Black River Community, and one of the first elders of Salem Black River Presbyterian Church (Brick Church).</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
<a name='more'></a></div><div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">When James Bradley died, his 500 acres of land was inherited by his daughter, Sarah Bradley. Sarah Bradley married John Ervin James, a state legislator, who died on November 1,1803, and is buried at Brick Church. They had no children. Due to her inheritance, Sarah Bradley James (also known as The Widow James) now owned large farm acreage and needed assistance in this regard. After the death of her husband, a man named Samuel McBride moved to the Salem Community and made a business arrangement with The Widow James to run her farm in return for room and board and an agreed-upon stipend.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">___________________________________________________</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLPvPAnL5txdkpB9PHMcKbzh57MEd205R1FzSE11gsjLMqpgFL2oqwJU4m2-Jox_VxYmiDZWk1guQsHDdkVW9hebkDoqCnxhvQcG1WNRO3cjvkBgRKnlqEiHuI50gbCJskBx19Z6f3idg/s1600/McBride+Family.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLPvPAnL5txdkpB9PHMcKbzh57MEd205R1FzSE11gsjLMqpgFL2oqwJU4m2-Jox_VxYmiDZWk1guQsHDdkVW9hebkDoqCnxhvQcG1WNRO3cjvkBgRKnlqEiHuI50gbCJskBx19Z6f3idg/s320/McBride+Family.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Click to Enlarge</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div>Brenda Remmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02463638352253693043noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863106549789453390.post-45496963490194976062011-02-21T18:27:00.000-08:002011-07-10T07:50:35.679-07:00Maude McBride: Heritage II<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><u>Samuel’s Two Marriages</u></span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">While working for the Widow James, the family oral history tells us that Samuel McBride, Maude McBride's grandfather, </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">would dress-up on Saturday nights and go out on private business. When the Widow James inquired where he went every weekend, he told her he was looking for a wife and a home of his own. The Widow responded, “Why don’t you look closer to home, Samuel?” It is said that he closed the door, hung his hat on a peg, and shortly thereafter married the widow Sarah James.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Samuel was a farmer of unusual ability, and he soon became a man of note and prominence. His plantation, known as Egypt farms, was considered a model show place of the community. Samuel continued to add to Sarah’s plantation by buying out five contiguous land grants, totaling 4,540 acres, from Robert Tomlinson. After Tomlinson’s death, he followed his heirs, John and Samuel Tomlin, to Tennessee, where he finalized the purchase of the remainder of Tomlinson’s land, until he owned in excess of 7,500 acres. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">When Sarah died in 1838, bearing no children, he added the land he inherited from her. He farmed approximately 1,000 acres of land, which was irrigated with an elaborate ditching system that drained into Mill Branch east of his home. Across from this, he built a large grist mill at one end and farmed 100 acres of rice at the other. Another dam was built west of the lake and in back of his house. The first house is thought to have been a log house near the swamp. This was replaced by a framed house that was later moved behind Rip Raps, the home currently standing, and was used for storage. That had been the home of Sarah James. It collapsed during Hurricane Hugo in 1989.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">On June 1 , 1839, Samuel married his second wife, Martha Ruberry of Charleston, who was twenty years his junior. Her grandfather, John Ruberry, was a tailor. Her </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">father, John Ruberry, Jr., died in 1817 of yellow fever and is buried at 138 Meeting Street in Charleston. Samuel and Martha had one son, born January 18,18 41, whom they named James Samuel McBride, after his father and his uncle, Dr. James McBride.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">In later years, Martha Ruberry McBride writes a wonderful letter to her granddaughter, Maude McBride Dabbs, describing her marriage to Samuel McBride and her life at the Crossroads raising young James, Maude’s father:</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“Your father’s life had been chills and fever. So was mine from first going to Salem tho I never said so. Dr. W said I must go to Sullivan’s Island and let James take salt and sand bath. This was an unheard of great trial. I left home and went. Was the lst lady to go in the bath before hundreds of people in broad day light. Soon a company followed. My child’s life was at stake and I would do anything. I went at night sometimes.”</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Young James was a sickly child and, instead of being sent off to school, James was carefully tutored at home. Several mornings a week, he rode over to the next plantation where Mr. George Cooper taught him Greek, Latin, and Mathematics. His father engaged a skilled carpenter to teach James and imported a complete set of English tools for his use.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Insight into the daily routines of the McBride house can continue to be found in this letter from Martha Ruberry McBride to her granddaughter dated 1879:</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"My Dear Maude, I am now 74 and will not be able to give dates. I forget s</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">o much now. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">“About the 64th year I lost my mother. I next remember</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">being draped in deep mourning and how sad all seemed to me as Sister Harriett and your great grandmother and father composed </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">the family. Two servants composed our family Mary and Lilly. The year I remember not but war came and father had to leave us with those colored folks. [Editor’s Note: This would have been the war of 1812 .] He had taught us to have great respect for them but I held out they should not cut bread for me with their black hands. The nurse made every day for a time to come in and cut the bread until I was glad enough to eat it. This lesson of obedience has helped me through a long life.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“He was a noble good man the war I pass over. The horrors of it you heard elsewhere. God took great care of us all nicely but Lily was jet black and my trouble was great. One day father took me on his lap and told me he had a secret to tell me. He was to get a white lady to take charge of us. This to me was grand but when I learned it was what they called a step mother how I wept. Poor foolish child little did I know the true happiness it would bring us all. She was Miss Mary Vardell, a most lovely woman took us like her own and loved us with a mother’s love.”</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">[Editor’s Note: for historical purposes this is a bit confusing. There are two different Mary Vardells in the family. This reference is to the third wife of Martha Ruberry’s father. Later on you will also see a reference to the wife of Guy Lewis Warren, named Mary Vardell. Interestingly enough, the two women are related. Just to muddy the waters further, Mary Vardell Ruberry was the third wife of John Ruberry, Jr. Mary Vardell Warren was the granddaughter of the</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">first wife of John Ruberry, Jr. When you read later on that James McBride married a “distant” cousin, Sophoronia Warren, this is where the connection is. The family tree constructed by Dorothy Dabbs helps to show the connection better.]</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">[Martha Ruberry McBride continues to write to her granddaughter describing her marriage to Samuel McBride.] </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“I am truly blessed in this union. Though 20 years older </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">than me he was the perfect gentleman. A model man. Everything went on like clockwork. No overseer ever came to know what to do where the family were. There was a room for this. No servant came for this and that, they had to think and get things at one time. When the cook rang her bell the house servants went in the yard to a long pole with a towel and tubs of water they were in. Needing [Ed. nothing ?] for the table. We always had the table laid for company. If we did not they came. Our breakfast was </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">at dawn of day. When worship bell rang, servants took their seat on a bench and sang with us at worship. House servants I mean. They raised the tune by my giving a name. They were trained in all things when I went there. But long continued sickness made great changes.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“Tho your father [Ed. reference to James McBride] was learned always to put play things up at night. When he was married his playthings were found in a box. This is to let you know he was trained to have everything in its place. It came through his dear Father not me. If you have not acquired it strive hard to obtain it by persistence until you acquire it.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“A common dictionary was kept in the entry. If a big word was used (asking for explanation) the overseer got up and found it, took pencil and wrote it down. This one did not know until a day or two after he would use the word in the wrong place. I oft had to run to the book myself to see if he was correct. My parents dying while I was young and my education was not attended to.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“After a long time of sickness, a truly[sic] happy life, my husband died.”</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">During his lifetime, Samuel McBride’s involvement with Salem Black River Church was significant, as it has been with all of the McBrides and Dabbses living in the community. Numerous letters make reference to church business. The original frame building was replaced with a brick building in 1802 , and henceforth was referred to by many as “Brick Church.” But this building had significant problems, and after numerous attempts to repair it, a committee that included Samuel McBride was established to make arrangements for a new structure to be built. On December 16, 1846, the committee reported that the work on the new church was completed and the congregation was presented with a bill for $5,845, which included $225 for the Session House. We are told that a quart of whiskey and a bullfrog were left in the north column “by accident” when it was cemented into place. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Samuel McBride died on January 24, 1850, leaving his wife and nine-year-old son a beautiful home, well staffed with servants, furnished with handsome furniture, and an excellent library. His library of books was donated through his son, James, to Brick Church, where it was housed in the Session House until they were eventually moved to Frances Marion College in Florence on loan. Samuel suffered through a long illness and sent a sad letter of farewell to the members of Salem Black River Church prior to his death. This letter can be found in the church minutes.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">His wife would live for another 42 years. following his death, Martha Ruberry McBride married Matthew P. Mayes, who also preceded her in death. She writes fondly of MP Mayes and her acceptance into that family in Mayesville. Martha Ruberry McBride Mayes died on July 4, 1892 , and is buried at Brick Church next to her first husband, Samuel McBride. Evidently there was no room next to Matthew P. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Mayes, since he had been married twice before and had already made plans to be buried between the first two wives.</span><br />
<a name='more'></a>Brenda Remmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02463638352253693043noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863106549789453390.post-86679920791858639332011-02-19T19:52:00.000-08:002011-07-10T08:03:55.390-07:00The McBrides and Rip Raps<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfr2LbWYBCHpa2bZpv-ZrYVQeYah-Tht0SRAdYmjiSBv6zsGf6Zb6IR8mFva8YJqt_HTYrWBA30BZDIom5XUvckcYVs_uEqPyEp5-6E44J9dES7SLdCSGmoa8XDJ8l5ZNUAwjuFV6GWOE/s1600/Rip+Raps+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfr2LbWYBCHpa2bZpv-ZrYVQeYah-Tht0SRAdYmjiSBv6zsGf6Zb6IR8mFva8YJqt_HTYrWBA30BZDIom5XUvckcYVs_uEqPyEp5-6E44J9dES7SLdCSGmoa8XDJ8l5ZNUAwjuFV6GWOE/s320/Rip+Raps+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Rip Raps Plantation<br />
The sun is shining on the back porch.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><u>James Samuel McBride</u> </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>Only child of Samuel & Martha Ruberry McBride, Father of Alice Maude McBride Dabbs.</i></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">James McBride met Sophronia Adams Warren (born October 19, 1839), a distant relative of his mother’s family from Charleston, when they came to visit his family home at Egypt farms. They became engaged and he began building a large home to be later named Rip Raps as a gift for his bride, marking it off on the ground immediately in front of the house in which he currently lived. The new house was initiated in 1858. He was 17 years old at the time. It features 14 rooms, each measuring 20 x 20, symmetrically positioned on either side of a large hall that flows through the entirety of the mansion from front to back. The front and the back entrances are identical, with six columns and a large piazza across both. A landscape artist from New York City was engaged to lay off new grounds with the bigger house at a slightly different angle and a new avenue that stretched through the pinewoods for 3⁄4 mile. An expert from Barchman nurseries (later known as Fruitland Nurseries) in Augusta, Georgia, came several times to advise and direct the keeping of the grounds and gardens for Rip Raps and the Witherspoon Plantation, known as Coldstream. upon completion, Rip Raps is strikingly similar to a previous home built in the area known as Rollingdale, which was destroyed in a fire.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">James McBride and Sophronia Adams Warren were married on February 22, 1859. James had developed tuberculosis. There is some speculation that he may have contracted this as a child from his aunt (his mother’s step- sister), Susan Vardell Ruberry, who died at 24 of what well may have been tuberculosis. (Susan Ruberry married Charles Sparks before her death. Their stones are next to the McBrides </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">on the back right-hand side at Brick Church for those of you trying to figure out who Susan Sparks was and why she is buried there.) James was just an infant at the time, and Susan, who was in poor health, asked to have him brought to her. Susan, even though young, was evidently a convincing evangelist and requested that the baby James be baptized in her presence in her room where she held him in her arms and offered prayer.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">As a young man, James was not strong enough to go with the Confederate troops, but was given a pass to nurse the troops behind the lines; possibly thereby also spreading tuberculosis. His wife’s many brothers and sisters moved up to Rip Raps from Atlanta. Her brothers Lewis and Albert both fought for the Confederacy and, it is said, that her brother, James Warren, who was too young to go to war, climbed to the top of the roof of Rip Raps in order to tie a Confederate flag to a chimney.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">A fervent supporter of the Confederate cause, young James refused to embellish his new home with furniture and curtains while troops were in need. Instead, he supplied wagon loads of corn to troops in North and South Carolina (after his death, his wife and father-in-law continued the practice). Families of troops were welcomed at the plantation and given corn when in need, to the extent that, when people asked where someone was going they’d respond, “To Egypt to get some corn.” In this way, the McBride farm was referred to as Egypt farms.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">It has been suggested that they might have referred to it as Egypt farms so as not to alert any Yankee sympathizers as to their supply source, but it was also said that Samuel McBride had previously named his farm Egypt Farms in reference to the high quality of corn he was producing and how far away people came to get seeds for their own crops. In </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Sallie Ruberry Burgess’s history of the Mayes family written in 1930, she claims that the Northern Army made regular trips to Rip Raps – called the old home “Goshen” – and carried away wagon loads of corn. There is nothing we have to support that story; quite the opposite, in fact. Oral history tells us again and again that the Yankees never marched up the avenue to Rip Raps with the exception of one poor lost straggler who was promptly turned around and sent on his way at gun point. By the end of the war, there wasn’t much corn left for anyone to eat, even those who lived there.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">At some time during young James’ experience behind the lines, he camped beside the Rip Raps River in Virginia, and listened through the night to the water gurgling and rushing over the stones on its way down the mountain. When he returned home, he lay in bed hearing the rain water rushing down the forty foot gutters and remembered the Rip Raps </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">River. So with some nostalgia, he named his new home Rip Raps. One story goes that when James returned briefly from the war to see the results of his new home, he was astounded at the size. Indeed his father-in-law, Guy Warren, wrote from Jonesboro on February 10, 1861, “James is now building himself a large new house. I think it is about 60 x 80 feet, two stories high with a large hall running through the center and three rooms on either side of the hall in either story, a total twelve rooms with Piazza all around the house. I cannot imagine what he intends</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">to do with so large a house.” What was, indeed, staggering and took more than 50 years to resolve, were the debts that were incurred during the building of this home. When young James died leaving his wife with only Confederate money </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">to pay the bills, (worth only four cents on the dollar following the war) his 5-year-old widow, Sophronia, was left with overwhelming debt.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Rip Raps is the only home standing of the McBride/ Dabbs homes that was at one time a working plantation. On this site, 97 slaves worked to bring in crops of cotton, rice, and corn. Samuel McBride’s home that stood in the rear of the present site was torn down and a pegged “Summer Home” was built from it one mile away in the healthy part of the pine woods. That location was on the east side of Highway # 57 as you cross the Crossroads going towards I-95. The Summer Home burned in 1936. The family would spend eight months a year at the Winter Home (Rip Raps) and four months at the Summer Home, where the mosquitoes weren’t as bad. These two houses were little more than a mile apart.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The Union Army never passed by Rip Raps, although there was great fear that they would. The children had been told that, should they see Union Troops starting down the half mile avenue that led to the house, they could begin eating all of the molasses and sugar they wanted. Sugar came in blocks </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">or bars and was kept in a bin that still exists at Rip Raps today. Surely, at least some of the younger family members lived with the desire to see at least one “Yank” before the war was over. Once, on a Sunday following a skirmish with the Yanks at Dingle’s Mill, while people were holding services at Brick Church, a courier came riding up, dismounted, and walked into the church and up to the minister with a message. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">The Yankees were moving up the western side of Black River towards the only crossing, just below Mayesville and headed for the Salem community. The congregation was dismissed, and headed for home to prepare. At Rip Raps, valuables and money were hidden, corn was spread over the ground, and all possible precautions were taken against looting. It was feared that the library within the house would be sacked and burned. A number of valuable old books were placed in a large sack, tied with a cord, and taken through the attic to the hollow top of a column and hung on a nail inside.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Meanwhile, the Mayesville members on the way home from church stopped after crossing the river just long enough to burn the bridge completely. When the Yankees arrived, already behind on orders to meet Sherman’s men at Camden, they could not wait long enough to rebuild the bridge and had to move on.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The books at Rip Raps remained in the column until the end of the war when it was discovered that the string had broken and the books had fallen to the bottom of the column. Boards had to be pried loose to get them out. Most of them were molded or eaten by mice.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">As a young child in the 1950s, I remember innocently asking my grandmother whether Sherman was a Yankee or a Confederate. Her stunned look alerted me that I had not done my homework. “Dear,” she replied. “Don’t you ever mention that man’s name in my house again.” I didn’t.</span></span><br />
<a name='more'></a>Brenda Remmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02463638352253693043noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863106549789453390.post-12091276122038389462011-02-18T09:13:00.000-08:002011-07-10T10:56:45.449-07:00The Church<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnAT9VHFqb1RI6Khx5dlnwxu9KopztH4O0oxhKCy-DWICiGMvu4EDV2aqH3hq95U46JQXWnWFgHOZtowXHxQ4gEibx05DqF-h9f_ojH6i5AMys6EYnrStNs6pSkbvp5kFcGFa3ZbK-_tk/s1600/Brick+Church+Marker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="167" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnAT9VHFqb1RI6Khx5dlnwxu9KopztH4O0oxhKCy-DWICiGMvu4EDV2aqH3hq95U46JQXWnWFgHOZtowXHxQ4gEibx05DqF-h9f_ojH6i5AMys6EYnrStNs6pSkbvp5kFcGFa3ZbK-_tk/s200/Brick+Church+Marker.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Brick Church Marker (Click to enlarge)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Nearly all of the African-American families who had once been slaves of Rip Raps Plantation and the nearby Witherspoon Plantation (Coldstream) stayed in the community at the end of the Civil War and many of their descendents live in the community today. There remain a few sites of slave cemeteries that unfortunately bear no names, or sometimes only first names. The Historical Commission of Sumter County has made an effort to identify as many of these sites as possible.</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl3MQkO1D3NN86qQN7GbtG7oKpWld9PBblLx1aH4B0ZCsghtVebWYSw_QQgpi4WcDm2h2FnaXDYMqa-21j7N4XGrgPuXmDSQyrsNMaorBrtjBt754cA6JpD5YAIw0X3t8WZfFVYHGoRBk/s1600/Brick+Church+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl3MQkO1D3NN86qQN7GbtG7oKpWld9PBblLx1aH4B0ZCsghtVebWYSw_QQgpi4WcDm2h2FnaXDYMqa-21j7N4XGrgPuXmDSQyrsNMaorBrtjBt754cA6JpD5YAIw0X3t8WZfFVYHGoRBk/s320/Brick+Church+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The freed slaves who had once been members of Salem Black River Presbyterian Church were recorded as members at the church and given the last names of their former masters. In 1861, the rolls listed 67 white members and 389 Negroes. The black members entered through the back door of the church and sat in the balcony.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiZBoxclf-mn1halz-HwQbn1hegXPrZuPFro7h95WSIEoBA2-e7TO3_VKHza5Lqafl2RZS7fqKos6Rtx9VrI1PsmCr-RW3uiaodKJQaloRlpn0yHDTI7HK_GFhYs_lBAQeGKSpzHVxoCc/s1600/Brick+Church+Interior.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiZBoxclf-mn1halz-HwQbn1hegXPrZuPFro7h95WSIEoBA2-e7TO3_VKHza5Lqafl2RZS7fqKos6Rtx9VrI1PsmCr-RW3uiaodKJQaloRlpn0yHDTI7HK_GFhYs_lBAQeGKSpzHVxoCc/s320/Brick+Church+Interior.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Brick Church: Interior View with Galleries</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">As would be expected, at the end of the Civil War, the Session struggled with how to respond to the new status of their former slaves and the idea of total equality was not the order of the day. On December 9, 1867, two of the black members, George Muldrow and Hugh Cooper, came before the Session and asked that they and 104 members be dismissed to form the contemplated first (Colored) Presbyterian Church that was being endowed by the Northern Presbyterian Church. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBFrvXs89LZ008CExO3ZQ40i3Sf6etXI2mEfEheYD8SDwlcfgBYqY0-Fl8_oIo-fTa8yHJARtrZyvYU0jc4l6zZSWlJOnx_PVYKXL_BA2vUwFVa7k82H6cHYEVPCfUCkUx5HgCwh2e7Zc/s1600/Goodwill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBFrvXs89LZ008CExO3ZQ40i3Sf6etXI2mEfEheYD8SDwlcfgBYqY0-Fl8_oIo-fTa8yHJARtrZyvYU0jc4l6zZSWlJOnx_PVYKXL_BA2vUwFVa7k82H6cHYEVPCfUCkUx5HgCwh2e7Zc/s320/Goodwill.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Goodwill Church (Current Day)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Eventually, most other black members simply stopped coming to Brick Church and joined Goodwill Presbyterian Church, which was established one-half-mile south of Salem Black River Presbyterian Church on Highway 527. The membership of Goodwill soared to in excess of 640 people. White missionary teachers came from the northeast to help established the first school for black children. While the original Goodwill Church has been replaced, the Goodwill School House still stands to the right of it. Efforts are being made to restore it.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLwbJYd07N0xSUH_Zn0s-Y3l1pqmSukYRwq-prhgSr7CFiipu_4O1ejSkpPecuv5tfbqwNqEVQvdS2HH5H9piaL0o68o8Yc6Lqup6X80MAVTYHPKcaXIrFB29WQMOT9Y-amQIk7oBu7mk/s1600/Schoolhouse+After.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLwbJYd07N0xSUH_Zn0s-Y3l1pqmSukYRwq-prhgSr7CFiipu_4O1ejSkpPecuv5tfbqwNqEVQvdS2HH5H9piaL0o68o8Yc6Lqup6X80MAVTYHPKcaXIrFB29WQMOT9Y-amQIk7oBu7mk/s320/Schoolhouse+After.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Goodwill School (after recent renovation efforts)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">A point of interest is that no one in the family seems to have any information about the white missionary teachers who were obviously living in the community. They don’t know where they were living. They are not recorded as members of Brick Church. A logical guess would be that they attended Goodwill Presbyterian Church. No one remembers their parents or the aunts (who themselves were all strong advocates of education) ever making a reference to them. It is not hard to recognize the bitter feelings between the North and the South following the Civil War, and it is quite probable that the white community members had no intentions of stretching out a welcoming hand. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Goodwill Presbyterian Church went on to become the mother church to numerous Africa-American churches in South Carolina and, with an active and passionate membership, has produced an array of talented citizens who are now living throughout the united States.</span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">_________________________________________</span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUEr-f-tGEBrleUWdQA1prfdprSN-6NxndvX3sZl_TihFaFhi4gqAYGQCrhWrVLCXYWukFrnPQLVo2m3osuIsG7Zl1Hu3RTIrGDsv3PX6TkimOP4TkmfXcdDs5q4zHCLHPcs0mCKiob38/s1600/Sesson+House.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUEr-f-tGEBrleUWdQA1prfdprSN-6NxndvX3sZl_TihFaFhi4gqAYGQCrhWrVLCXYWukFrnPQLVo2m3osuIsG7Zl1Hu3RTIrGDsv3PX6TkimOP4TkmfXcdDs5q4zHCLHPcs0mCKiob38/s320/Sesson+House.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">The Session House that sits behind Brick Church was once </span></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">home to a significant library furnished by Samuel McBride. </span></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">In recent years the books were transferred to the Caroliniana </span></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Library in Columbia. It was always the setting for Sabbath </span></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">School with two rooms, one for adults and one for children.</span></i></div></td></tr>
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<a name='more'></a>Brenda Remmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02463638352253693043noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863106549789453390.post-9141927159341758952011-02-17T19:28:00.000-08:002011-03-04T19:33:20.066-08:00The McBrides and Rip Raps II<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ-a5dZMD_uF3EQo2gBsYTFeOTVuxoiZt1omqkmZvs1hiGarLx-j-GJ-ZrqiPYYhfX1-MbjMcC6Jfq0z8Uk0Bi_GQCqE80Cg3DCzXl-rFTFL1bXt52rVvOkRCdKwSwqV0tuqxVWhfeO7E/s1600/Rip+Raps+II.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ-a5dZMD_uF3EQo2gBsYTFeOTVuxoiZt1omqkmZvs1hiGarLx-j-GJ-ZrqiPYYhfX1-MbjMcC6Jfq0z8Uk0Bi_GQCqE80Cg3DCzXl-rFTFL1bXt52rVvOkRCdKwSwqV0tuqxVWhfeO7E/s320/Rip+Raps+II.jpg" width="232" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><u>The two children of James and Sophronia McBride</u></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">James Samuel McBride and Sophronia Adams Warren McBride had two children, Alice Maude McBride (born July 15, 1860) and Guy Warren McBride (born February 1, 1864). Soon after he fathered these two children, James Samuel McBride died on June 2, 1864, at the age of 23, only a few months after the birth of his second child. He is buried at Salem Black River Church.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">At his early death, James McBride had left Sophronia Warren McBride an estate one-half mile wide and seven miles long, extending east from the Black River Swamp to the other side of what is I-95 today. In addition, there was the beautiful home of Rip Raps. After her husband’s death, first Sophronia’s father, and then her daughter and son, worked with her to maintain the plantation. It is said that, with great fanfare, once a year, Guy McBride would make the trek into the then thriving town of Mayesville where the mortgage was held by the Bank of England. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">There, he would pay the interest on the mortgage for the house and farm. The principal, however, remained untouched, and they seemed unable to make headway on the debt. Refusing to sell either land or timber, Sophronia Warren McBride, with the help of her family, managed to hold the plantation together for more than half a century.</span></span>Brenda Remmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02463638352253693043noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863106549789453390.post-58789008263576696022009-12-01T04:35:00.000-08:002011-07-11T08:33:01.267-07:00The Warrens<div class="WordSection1"><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Sophronia’s mother, Mary Vardell Warren, had died of diphtheria in <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Jonesboro</city></place> in 1863. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the Civil War intensified in the south, Sophronia’s father, Guy Lewis Warren, who was living on the edge of <city w:st="on">Atlanta</city> in <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Jonesboro</city></place>, had become increasingly concerned for his children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In an effort to secure their safety and provide some support to his recently widowed daughter, Sophronia, he put six of his children on a boxcar to <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Mayesville</city>, <state w:st="on">South Carolina</state></place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In this way, Rip Raps would become the home to the large family of <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Warrens</city></place>.</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Guy Warren felt that if his children were at Rip Raps they would be protected from the Union Army and could assist their sister in managing the plantation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sophronia’s father left his position as station agent for the Macon and Western Railroad and Ban King Company which ran tracks through <city w:st="on">Jonesboro</city> only after the building was burned by <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Sherman</city></place>’s army.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of the children would later write, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Father remained on duty at the depot until the depot and the surroundings were destroyed.”</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His oldest son, Lewis E. Warren, a Confederate soldier had been captured and was a prisoner at <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Elmira</city>, <state w:st="on">New York</state></place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list 1.0in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">· </span></span>A very thorough genealogy of the <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Warren</city></place> family was collected and published by George Corbett Warren, Jr., in 1986.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Much of this was based on research done by the Rev. Thomas Warren of <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">London</city></place> and Hallie D. Warren, Sr., of Mayesville in 1961.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They not only traced the <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Warren</city></place> lineage back to the Earl of Warren of Normandy, but in this genealogy on page 49, Sophronia Adams Warren’s heritage is traced to that of William Bradford of the Mayflower.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In addition there is a wonderful exchange of letters from Guy Warren to his mother in <state w:st="on">Connecticut</state> and from his son Lewis Warren during the time he was a prisoner at <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Elmira</city></place>.</span></span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sophronia McBride, widow of James McBride, lived with her two children, Maude and Guy, and her brothers and sisters, Harriett, Jimmie, Albert, Alice, Sarah, Louisa and Julia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her husband had left a desk stuffed full of Confederate money which proved to be useless.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most of these Confederate bills were passed down to various grandchildren.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some were donated to the museum in <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Sumter</city></place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was little real money to pay bills, much less to decorate the antebellum home. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rip Raps stood fairly basic and plain looking on the inside, but massive and compelling on the outside, just as it had been built.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Guy Warren had a first cousin, Lewis Warren of <city w:st="on">Sturgeon Bay</city>, <state w:st="on">Wisconsin</state>, who was in <city w:st="on">Sherman</city>’s army at the time that <city w:st="on">Sherman</city>’s army burned <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Atlanta</city></place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The <city w:st="on">Warren</city> family was a classic example where brother fought brother during the war since Guy Lewis’ brothers and sisters were living in <place w:st="on"><state w:st="on">Connecticut</state></place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, emotions ran so deeply that after the war some cousins refused to see members of the Guy Warren family when they travelled north to visit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is even one reference to imply that the community of <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Jonesboro</city></place><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>suspected that Guy Warren may have been a Union sympathizer<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>as evidenced by the fact that he had family connections in the north and his home was one of the very few not burned to the ground.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is nothing in research or correspondence by Guy Warren or his family to support this theory.</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">According to accounts by Harriett Warren, Cousin Lewis Warren visited the house in <city w:st="on">Jonesboro</city>, but evidently was in the hospital in <city w:st="on">Marietta</city> at the time <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Jonesboro</city></place> was burned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Jonesboro</city></place> home remains standing today and one reference stated that it was saved from destruction by the Masonic sign of distress on the front of the house, even though the Masonic Lodge was destroyed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Records show that Guy Lewis Warren was one of the founders and highest officers of the Society of Freemasons in their lodge in <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Jonesboro</city></place> for fourteen years. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More probably it was saved because of its location on a high elevation with a commanding view of <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Jonesboro</city></place> and the fact that it was used as a hospital and headquarters by the 52<sup>nd</sup> Illinois Regiment on September 2, 1864.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Heavy fighting took place around the house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bullets were lodged in walls and remain there until this day. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It has been written that bodies were piled up on top of each other as doctors and medics tried to save lives in the midst of ferocious fighting. Trees were splintered and grass was trampled and pitted with battle debris. </span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since that time the house has been sold and remodeled several times, but it stands today, still known as “The Warren House,” around which the final desperate two-day battle on August 31<sup>st</sup> and September 1<sup>st</sup>, 1864, raged before <city w:st="on">Atlanta</city> surrendered to <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Sherman</place></city>’s army. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Following the destruction, Guy Warren joined his children at Rip Raps, where he helped his daughter run the plantation and was again elected to the highest office of the Masonic Lodge of Mayesville.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He remained with her until his death on <date day="2" ls="trans" month="9" w:st="on" year="18">September 2, 18</date>75, after selling his property in <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Jonesboro</city>, <state w:st="on">GA.</state></place>, to assist with the taxes at Rips Raps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sophronia’s <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>children, Maude and Guy, were only 15 and 11 years old at this time, and they would continue to work with their mother and her brothers and sisters to maintain the plantation until Guy completed college 10 years later.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGWDVkh1_JzB-HNr3452VsGuthGw2IP6ew4Qq_nEkTZVHPWACP0u2J82n4OJhlRxMqRSjuYzvO6ZH4AYDKgNJoV_KakoW4g73ED3eGrgvBdbEus-vLBjk8011JQSMtfxzHhJbnk2hvCzU/s1600/Warren+House.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGWDVkh1_JzB-HNr3452VsGuthGw2IP6ew4Qq_nEkTZVHPWACP0u2J82n4OJhlRxMqRSjuYzvO6ZH4AYDKgNJoV_KakoW4g73ED3eGrgvBdbEus-vLBjk8011JQSMtfxzHhJbnk2hvCzU/s400/Warren+House.png" width="400" /></a></div></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"> The Warren House</div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"> Jonesboro, Georgia</div>Brenda Remmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02463638352253693043noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863106549789453390.post-13495478571875415832009-11-12T08:33:00.000-08:002011-07-11T09:37:46.671-07:00Guy Warren McBride<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxQjY8YSBVJTqFShS1DQYRhX49j2ZIjPkf9Wx_V2LCKUS2Ab2FoZ4SSclEUDec-dzr7SmJkAiC8_XOBosWiVWHMR9ofxmCHUgB4Cwls5PyKi9NVIo2ekWWm2R0xinvk9jdqD4AfZhnTao/s1600/Guy+Warren+McBride.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxQjY8YSBVJTqFShS1DQYRhX49j2ZIjPkf9Wx_V2LCKUS2Ab2FoZ4SSclEUDec-dzr7SmJkAiC8_XOBosWiVWHMR9ofxmCHUgB4Cwls5PyKi9NVIo2ekWWm2R0xinvk9jdqD4AfZhnTao/s320/Guy+Warren+McBride.png" width="234" /></a></div> <span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
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</span><br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif"; font-size: large;">Guy Warren McBride, (Maude's brother and only son of Sophronia and James McBride,) never married and was offered a Chair in Mathematics at USC Instead, he returned<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to Rip Raps to help his mother,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sophronia McBride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is a trend that repeats itself in the history of the family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not only has much land been inherited by men through women, (From the Widow James to Samuel McBride, and from Maude McBride to Eugene Dabbs) but several sons have dutifully left other careers to return to the farm and help their parents. Often, this was not in their own best interest since other occupations appealed to them more than farming.</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"> </span><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By all accounts, more a poet-philosopher than a businessman, Guy McBride and his mother were unable to resolve the massive debts that continued to accumulate around Rip Raps Plantation. In addition, Guy had bouts with depression and alcohol.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the same time, in his book, <u>The Road Home, </u><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>James McBride Dabbs describes his Uncle Guy as one of the finest men he’d ever known; a kindly humorous man and a true Southern gentleman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He quotes, Aunt Caroline Muldrow as saying that when she got to </span></span><br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif"; font-size: large;">heaven the first person she’d see would be Jesus and then Marse Guy.</span></div></div>Brenda Remmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02463638352253693043noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863106549789453390.post-18380201491201523992009-10-11T09:29:00.000-07:002011-07-11T11:44:06.116-07:00The Warren Sisters ("The Aunts")<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif"; font-size: large;">Guy Warren McBride's mother, Sophronia Warren McBride, was no shrinking violet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is said that she mounted her horse daily and rode down to the field to check on all of the overseers and crops before returning to govern the affairs of the house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A petite woman, it was noted that she wore very small shoes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In her father's letters home he makes reference to an accident in which as a child Sophronia lost the sight in her left eye. </span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">July 10, 1848 – “The past has been a trying year with us. I have again been unfortunate in business.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Where I shall be or what I shall do another year I know not. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have had some sickness in my family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My youngest child, Martha (about a year old) has been quite sick for two months, and I fear she will never be any better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ordinarily, the birth of a child is a source of Joy, but with me it is a cause of grief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One child I buried in <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Charleston</place></city>, another, I fear, will be buried here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sophronia has but one eye and besides has suffered great and continued anguish from Tick or Nervous affliction of the face and side….”</i></span></span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is never repeated again and is the only reference to that incident.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only one other <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Warren</place></city> sister, Louisa, married and she was also left a young widow, but they all remained in the Salem Black River Community the rest of their lives. A younger sister of Sophronia’s said that following the earthquake and fire in <city w:st="on">Charleston</city> in 1886 fourteen families from <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Charleston</place></city> found refuge at Rip Raps at one time or another.</span></span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF9pKjsH75iXyjQhJdjBPALDFV388Uph5RJ9jpDRpIu8fjJc4gjHIgn_u3-fAUqK-VqUN5ilzljpbdwCOsjA1WBihIt03npYpczVXQtjtahAC7xJZbJ269bqUVoRoyLN_7xN1j-J71_Ig/s1600/Alice%252C+Harriett+%2528Hattie%2529+and+Julia+Warren.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="272" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF9pKjsH75iXyjQhJdjBPALDFV388Uph5RJ9jpDRpIu8fjJc4gjHIgn_u3-fAUqK-VqUN5ilzljpbdwCOsjA1WBihIt03npYpczVXQtjtahAC7xJZbJ269bqUVoRoyLN_7xN1j-J71_Ig/s400/Alice%252C+Harriett+%2528Hattie%2529+and+Julia+Warren.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"> "The Aunts" Alice, Harriett (Hattie) & Julia Warren</div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif"; font-size: large;">Tribute was paid to the Warren women by their great-niece, Elizabeth Gertrude Dabbs Thompson when she wrote in 1970, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I cannot close without a tribute to the four daughters of Guy Lewis Warren and Mary Vardell Warren, who were my great aunts – Harriett, Alice and Julia Warren and Louisa Warren Fraser, whose love and charm and refined manners left their stamp on our childhood and our community.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“</i>The “Aunts”, as they were referred to by descendents,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>moved to the Summer House after their sister Sophronia’s death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With them went all of the furniture out of Rip Raps and a considerable amount of confederate bills which were placed in the attic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rip Raps was rented for a few years while young James McBride Dabbs continued with his academic studies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meanwhile, the Aunts continued to provide education to the children in the white community.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their great-great nieces and nephews recall visiting their home and looking at large scrapbooks containing newspaper clippings of the Civil War.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unfortunately, the Summer House, (so called since it was located further away from the swamp and was a healthier place to live during the “miasma” or malaria outbreaks in the summer) burned in 1936. All of the memorabilia from that house was lost, including the fine furniture which had been in Samuel McBride’s original home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A treasure of family Bibles that traced the lineage of the <city w:st="on">Warren</city> family back to <place w:st="on"><country-region w:st="on">England</country-region></place> was also left in the ashes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the family mourned these great losses, Stella Dabbs dryly remarked that they had all just successfully avoided a great family struggle over the distribution of the many antiques.</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Billy Dabbs, grandson of Eugene Whitefield Dabbs, remembers the day the Summer House burned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He recalls his father driving over in the family car at the news that the house was on fire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wanting to go, but being told that he couldn’t, Billy jumped on the back of the bumper of the car and rode the mile to the fire scrunched down so that his <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>father couldn’t see him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Upon arriving, he jumped off the back of the car and ran past his father huffing and puffing with great exaggeration of his efforts at “running the entire mile” and beating his father to the fire.</span></span></div><shapetype coordsize="21600,21600" filled="f" id="_x0000_t75" o:preferrelative="t" o:spt="75" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" stroked="f"><stroke joinstyle="miter"></stroke><formulas><f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"></f><f eqn="sum @0 1 0"></f><f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"></f><f eqn="prod @2 1 2"></f><f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"></f><f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"></f><f eqn="sum @0 0 1"></f><f eqn="prod @6 1 2"></f><f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"></f><f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"></f><f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"></f><f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"></f></formulas><path gradientshapeok="t" o:connecttype="rect" o:extrusionok="f"></path><lock aspectratio="t" v:ext="edit"></lock></shapetype><shape id="_x0000_s1027" style="height: 157.65pt; margin-left: 380.25pt; margin-top: -71.45pt; position: absolute; width: 191.2pt; z-index: -251657216;" type="#_x0000_t75" wrapcoords="-53 0 -53 21523 21600 21523 21600 0 -53 0"><imagedata cropbottom="7282f" cropleft="16705f" cropright="12208f" croptop="14094f" o:title="Chapter II 002" src="file:///C:\Users\BRENDA~1\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image001.png"></imagedata><wrap type="tight"></wrap></shape><shape id="_x0000_s1026" style="height: 4in; margin-left: 374.25pt; margin-top: 92.3pt; position: absolute; width: 215.25pt; z-index: -251658240;" type="#_x0000_t75" wrapcoords="-75 0 -75 21544 21600 21544 21600 0 -75 0"><imagedata o:title="Chapter II 004" src="file:///C:\Users\BRENDA~1\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image003.png"></imagedata><wrap type="tight"></wrap></shape><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The Warren Family played a vital role in support of Sophronia Warren McBride and the Rip Raps Plantation, but they did not multiply with the same ferocity as the Dabbs lineage and evidently found the challenge of paying the bills owed by the estate beyond their capacity to manage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After the death of her father, Guy Warren in 1875,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sophronia continued to struggle to maintain the plantation with her two children,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maude and Guy, and her sisters and brothers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maude would not marry Eugene Whitefield Dabbs until thirteen years later in 1893 when she was thirty-three years old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sophronia would live for 22 more years, outliving both of her children.<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQM_VO5zs8l7fhhqzb4DLYPTnQz32i3jc5mm-ANpzj8B5ejJ2p1DCk_0nxINcZBN9j_n598ydoXgWiS-6FVjU4FqJlDkq-aEJcslR3kMjyQjXcbuZuATNmCa0noTtV5EwURO_Vnyq9Rv0/s1600/Aunt+Alice+reading+to+Maude+%2526+EW+Dabbs+children.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQM_VO5zs8l7fhhqzb4DLYPTnQz32i3jc5mm-ANpzj8B5ejJ2p1DCk_0nxINcZBN9j_n598ydoXgWiS-6FVjU4FqJlDkq-aEJcslR3kMjyQjXcbuZuATNmCa0noTtV5EwURO_Vnyq9Rv0/s640/Aunt+Alice+reading+to+Maude+%2526+EW+Dabbs+children.png" width="476" /></a></div> Aunt Alice with children of Eugene Dabbs and Maude McBride Dabbs<br />
(l-r starting with tallest: James McBride Dabbs, Thomas Hoole Dabbs, Guy<br />
McBride Dabbs, Aunt Alice Warren, Elizabeth Gertrude Dabbs and<br />
Sophie McBride Dabbs)Brenda Remmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02463638352253693043noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863106549789453390.post-15180876284821700312009-06-11T21:06:00.000-07:002011-07-12T09:11:03.249-07:00The Dabbs-McBride Marriage<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpUhfbZGrTl6Ur07FHyGROLTqgI6uouxHN6f2tYBngvPUjAoABNxiVQOExpKgx1p_nKZCRVbpVJXY03qaLIpYfSEIWqBGAhMNFG_PxI-F1mYMWzihgIx6kEce3LnVR0vtmyKWkVjr0qSs/s1600/EW+Dabbs+%2526+Maude.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpUhfbZGrTl6Ur07FHyGROLTqgI6uouxHN6f2tYBngvPUjAoABNxiVQOExpKgx1p_nKZCRVbpVJXY03qaLIpYfSEIWqBGAhMNFG_PxI-F1mYMWzihgIx6kEce3LnVR0vtmyKWkVjr0qSs/s400/EW+Dabbs+%2526+Maude.png" width="266" /></a></div><span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Eugene Whitefield Dabbs and Alice Maude McBride married at Rip Raps Plantation on February 7, 1893. It is said that he asked her to marry him three times. Twice she turned him down and on the third time she accepted a written proposal that came in the mail dated September 1892. In an effort to put aside some money <city w:st="on">Eugene</city> had gone to <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Anniston</city>, <state w:st="on">Alabama</state></place>, to work in the Woodstock Iron Company for a year. His adventure was a dismal failure. When he returned to <place w:st="on"><state w:st="on">South Carolina</state></place> he had been sick for six months with typhoid fever and had been nursed back to health by an unknown family who moved him into their home. He was in worse shape than when he left. Supposedly, Maude wrote him at one point during his absence and told him that if there was to be a wedding at all he needed to return immediately. He returned. </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> At the time of the Dabbs-McBride marriage, the McBride land was divided by her mother, Sophronia Warren McBride. Maude received the northern portion of the family land while her brother, Guy, received the southern portion. (Present day Highway 378 now runs along the divide line that marked the division.) Sophronia McBride retained the wooded property known as Jacque Woods on the other side of what is now I-95.</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> Over the course of the next 10 years Eugene and Maude had six children (one born every two years): Eugene Whitefield Dabbs, Jr., (1894); James McBride Dabbs, (1896); Elizabeth Gertrude Dabbs, (1898); Sophie McBride Dabbs, (1900); Thomas Hoole Dabbs, (1902); and Guy McBride Dabbs, (1904). James McBride Dabbs in his book, <u>The Road Home</u> states that while they were driven by their father, they revolved around their mother. Described as a silent woman, Maude juggled the challenges in her home of her six children, her husband’s mother, Euphrasia Hoole Dabbs, and his mother’s youngest brother, T.S. Hoole, known to all as Uncle Stin. Her own mother, Sophronia, and brother, Guy, lived up the road at Rip Raps and her aunts lived in the Summer Home. Her grandmother, Martha Ruberry McBride Mayes, who had been living in Mayesville, had just recently died. This could hardly be a lonely existence.</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The business end of the farm was left to her husband, Eugene Whitefield Dabbs. They moved into a one story house on Highway 527 north of the Crossroads. </span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoUSJJl2FNhztEX8WLRObEUZyk5eLbBfpsVob8_1nVltQt5spz5odl1eZitw1Rx1dhE33R3uB336Gn7U7k8Ha-rh_mtLmTOQl-Ff3l47Zdq_AUtyR5Fxpp66Ev-ZKYRuns14XSRrgf_Xk/s1600/Whitefield+1800.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="245" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoUSJJl2FNhztEX8WLRObEUZyk5eLbBfpsVob8_1nVltQt5spz5odl1eZitw1Rx1dhE33R3uB336Gn7U7k8Ha-rh_mtLmTOQl-Ff3l47Zdq_AUtyR5Fxpp66Ev-ZKYRuns14XSRrgf_Xk/s400/Whitefield+1800.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"> Whitfield as it looked when Eugene & Maude first lived there.</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"> In 1937 it was remodeled and a second floor & six columns were added.</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">That home eventually was remodeled to include a second floor by their eldest son, EW Dabbs, Jr., and was bought by his daughter, Louise Dabbs Bevan in 1986. But in 1906 Eugene Whitefield Dabbs moved his entire family one mile further back into the woods where, for 18 months, they lived in pioneer fashion as they built a second house to get away from the summer fever. This rustic lodging was referred to as the Camp, and in 2007 it is still standing, although covered in vines. It is with puzzlement and wonder that future generations have tried to understand what Eugene Whitefield Dabbs was thinking when he asked his wife and children to exchange their home on Highway 527 for a shed in the woods. But mosquitoes had not yet been associated with malaria and a doctor had forewarned Mr. Dabbs that his children would not survive the malady of the swamp in their dwelling on Highway 527. The disease name comes from the Italian <b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mal aria</i></b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>(bad air), and it was believed that the swamp fumes produced the illness. According to the National Geographic, a million Union Army casualties in the Civil War were attributed to malaria and it was particularly devastating to children under five. The <place w:st="on"><country-region w:st="on">U.S.</country-region></place> was recording millions of malaria cases in 1930. Interestingly enough, it is true that mosquitoes will not travel further than one mile from their water source and malaria mosquitoes needed the swamp to survive. Thus, even though the two homes were no more than a mile apart the move was made. They would not be able to evade illness, however, and Maude would die at the age of 47 of typhoid fever in 1908, after 15 years of marriage, and a year before their new home was finished. Her son, James McBride Dabbs remembers his father whispering at his mother’s funeral, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">My God, I killed her.”</i> </span></span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVVUlcQd_tKw_BXi6tO34oLMPMIKurneI8WT3fxAu6nAOZRLFos9-VJEA1JHmWMYUQ4sYXmHntJd6EhXV2HpRU6e8krzfh__j3NJ50OgdsHQAF9u_iDhAub-l5K4vIwqi2yqUuVBql6FI/s1600/Fern+Park.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="286" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVVUlcQd_tKw_BXi6tO34oLMPMIKurneI8WT3fxAu6nAOZRLFos9-VJEA1JHmWMYUQ4sYXmHntJd6EhXV2HpRU6e8krzfh__j3NJ50OgdsHQAF9u_iDhAub-l5K4vIwqi2yqUuVBql6FI/s400/Fern+Park.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"> Fern Park two miles back in the woods from Whitfield.</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"> </span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">While there is little written about Mother Maude other than what her son, James McBride Dabbs, describes of her in <u>The Road Home</u>, insights into her personality can be gleaned from letters that were sent to her husband following her death. Many state that she was a “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sweet, dainty woman, noble, pure, devoted parent, duty loving and duty performing Christian mother.</i>” A Hoole cousin writes, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I do hope <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Alice</city></place> will be able to take care of the house as Auntie </i>(referring to Euphrasia Hoole Dabbs)<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> is too old and feeble now.” </i> “Auntie” lived on for 11 more years, feeble or not. Aunt Louisa writes from Sumter, Maude was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“the twin sister of my heart.”</i> She loved the Sabbath days and the hymns ….. <u>Beneath the Cross of Jesus</u> was her favorite hymn and she used to sing it around the house. Ruth Lawrence wrote from <place w:st="on">Darlington</place>. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Dear Cousin Eugene, I used to wonder how one woman could accomplish so much in her quick way and never get upset. Blessed are the peacemakers.” </i></span></span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Maude McBride Dabbs died on December 31, 1908, leaving 1/3 of her land to her husband, Eugene Whitefield Dabbs, and dividing the remainder among her children. It was Maude’s belief that if the land should be sold for taxes, the courts would be more lenient on her children than her husband. Her brother, Guy McBride, was quite fond of his nephew, James McBride Dabbs, the second son to Eugene Whitefield Dabbs and Maude McBride. Guy wanted Rip Raps to be left to James, perhaps because he bore the name of Guy’s father, or perhaps because he, like Guy, was more of a poet/philosopher than a farmer.</span></span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeMETnX9lACQ-g3MZ9n1E4c5ta5BhgERgFoptdx9Fk0GTd3RXVdv7DhGx977PeWSZ-kD8i9UgEnV29862w0dc6FKvWgVdEKSTyM4Zh4HSRP-BtSy0khSUGSGee9XI1yRBudFQP4OHkEgE/s1600/The+EW+Dabbs+Family.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeMETnX9lACQ-g3MZ9n1E4c5ta5BhgERgFoptdx9Fk0GTd3RXVdv7DhGx977PeWSZ-kD8i9UgEnV29862w0dc6FKvWgVdEKSTyM4Zh4HSRP-BtSy0khSUGSGee9XI1yRBudFQP4OHkEgE/s400/The+EW+Dabbs+Family.png" width="311" /></a></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"> (L-R) Eugene W. Dabbs, Jr., Eugene Whitefield Dabbs holding</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"> Sophie McBride Dabbs, James McBride Dabbs, Elizabeth</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"> Gertrude Dabbs, Maude McBride Dabbs holding Thomas Hoole Dabbs.</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"> Below left is Thomas Hoole holding their sixth child, Guy McBride Dabbs.</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj6Ih0xPcju0aouQWW0xHqjAZI4N_coe5hR99FM6Jtr368HpUPhir5Z6bqpmZOCTw2j1MRC5vXMAW5Qe1LHhiA3ujmjHTQaJ-H_TocjKT62RRi7UGHqsE5Q-rIKjNuuIQKyqrh6afrdYk/s1600/Thomas+Hoole+and+Baby+Guy.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj6Ih0xPcju0aouQWW0xHqjAZI4N_coe5hR99FM6Jtr368HpUPhir5Z6bqpmZOCTw2j1MRC5vXMAW5Qe1LHhiA3ujmjHTQaJ-H_TocjKT62RRi7UGHqsE5Q-rIKjNuuIQKyqrh6afrdYk/s320/Thomas+Hoole+and+Baby+Guy.png" width="226" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;">Maude's brother, Guy, would live only six years after his sister’s death. His obituary begins, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“On Saturday there was buried at Brick </i></span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;">Church the mortal remains of perhaps the best loved man who ever lived in the <city w:st="on">Salem</city> <place w:st="on">Black River</place> Country – Guy Warren McBride.”</span></i><span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"> Guy’s mother, Sophronia McBride, would outlive both of her children by one year dying on July 4, 1915. In her will she honored her son’s wishes concerning Rip Raps but then chose not to leave any of the Jacque Woods land to her grandson, James, in an attempt to even-out things among her grandchildren. As Guy had requested, she also gave $3,000 to the library at <place w:st="on"><placename w:st="on">Brick</placename> <placetype w:st="on">Church</placetype></place> and many of the books from the original library of Samuel McBride.</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"> At the death of Maude McBride (1908), Guy McBride (1914), and shortly thereafter their mother, Sophronia (1915), the estate was more than $37,000 in debt. The property and homes were in great threat of being completely lost and it was ultimately Eugene Whitefield Dabbs, widowed husband of Maude McBride Dabbs, who was appointed by the court to manage the estate and piece together the negotiations to pay the back taxes and farm debts. This he did with labored thought through a process that extended almost seven years. All debts were listed along side all assets. Lenders holding notes on the plantation were asked to either forgive or reduce the charges. There is a record at <place w:st="on"><placename w:st="on">Salem</placename> <placename w:st="on">Black River</placename> <placetype w:st="on">Church</placetype></place> of his asking to be forgiven a financial pledge of $250.00 to the church due to lack of funds. His request was acknowledged and the pledge excused. It is significant to note that obligations made to the church were calculated with the same seriousness as obligations made to banks and other lenders. In the end timber was sold in addition to 1,000 acres of land. Supposedly, Sudie Furman, Eugene Dabbs’ second wife, also contributed $5,000 of her own money to pay off the debt. At a time when it had been speculated that all might be lost, Eugene Whitefield Dabbs was able to maintain almost 7,000 acres of the original 10,000 acre estate.</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div>Brenda Remmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02463638352253693043noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863106549789453390.post-35258638196358312832009-06-10T21:20:00.000-07:002011-07-12T14:33:25.738-07:00The Dabbs-Furman Marriage<span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"> <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieRXIHdCdWGFtc14Ysg4zwZWYVJYSB8fC-GDi0gH_3DXfsjyfMfliA-nXSfEUmKZr-5n0RxkE9dowlql2J7DienYskeQm0VvQ2IxysjvPQr_HIJlKkmk2__RKxitKLqbINsbRrTO-87eM/s1600/Sudie+Furman.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieRXIHdCdWGFtc14Ysg4zwZWYVJYSB8fC-GDi0gH_3DXfsjyfMfliA-nXSfEUmKZr-5n0RxkE9dowlql2J7DienYskeQm0VvQ2IxysjvPQr_HIJlKkmk2__RKxitKLqbINsbRrTO-87eM/s320/Sudie+Furman.png" width="210" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sudie Furman - Second wife of EW Dabbbs</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Sudie Furman, whose father refused to allow her to marry Eugene Whitefield Dabbs when he asked years earlier, heard of the untimely death of Maude McBride Dabbs and the six children she’d left behind and felt called to return home to raise those children. She and Eugene Whitefield Dabbs were married in 1910. Some would henceforth refer to the two wives of Eugene Whitefield Dabbs as Mother Maude and Sweetie Sudie, although it should be noted that a pious woman such as Sudie would never have appreciated nor acknowledged such a nickname. <span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", serif;">Maude McBride Dabbs left six children, the oldest being 14 and the youngest being 4 years of age. Young Thomas <span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Hoole Dabbs would follow his mother in death three years later in 1911 at the age of 9 from pneumonia.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Sudie was a staunch Baptist and joined the <place w:st="on"><placename w:st="on">Baptist</placename> <placetype w:st="on">Church</placetype></place> in Mayesville, where she attended regularly. She avoided membership in Salem Black River Presbyterian Church, the family church to the McBrides and Dabbses, although she lies in rest within the cemetery gates next to her husband. </span></span><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", serif; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">(Anyone searching for cemetery markers should look on the left side of the cemetery: rows 5, 6, and 7 for the Dabbses, and on right side, second row from the back fence for the McBrides and Warrens. As other generations die, markers may become more scattered.) </span></span><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">After their marriage, on September 28, 1913, Aunt Alice Warren wrote the following letter to her nephew, James M. Dabbs:</span></span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">With the McBride family now all deceased, Eugene Whitefield Dabbs surveyed the debt and calculated that it could only be managed if the land was put back together as one unit and some timber and land sold to pay bills. On July 20, 1915, the firm of Lee & Moise represented Eugene Whitefield Dabbs in an effort to avoid bankruptcy. </span></span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It took several years, however, to settle the estate. On August 1, 1922, approximately 5800 acres of land remained. Following the payment of taxes and debts the remaining land was redistributed. This was done through the Court of Common Pleas in the County of Sumter, SC, in an Order Confirming Return of Commissioners in Partition that had Eugene W. Dabbs, Jr., James McBride Dabbs, Elizabeth G. Dabbs, and Sophie McBride Dabbs named as Plaintiff’s vs. Guy McBride Dabbs and E.W. Dabbs, Sr., as defendants. According to reports, this was simply the most efficient way to redistribute the land and since Guy McBride Dabbs was still under the age of 22 as stipulated in the will, his name was placed with that of his father. </span></span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">This very specific division is documented with boundaries and acreage and redistributed in the following way: Eugene Whitefield Dabbs retained 870 acres; 244.75 acres went to EW Dabbs, Jr.; 188.75 went to Elizabeth Gertrude Dabbs; 263.4 went to Sophie McBride Dabbs; 235.54 went to James McBride Dabbs; and 452.6 went to Guy McBride Dabbs.</span> </span></span><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", serif; font-size: 10pt;">(In land distributions, one must take into consideration percentages of swamp land, farming land and forest.)</span><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">An additional 2,063.8 acres remained in the names of the five children of Eugene Whitefield Dabbs with him named as trustee. With the profits from this land he was to handle the taxes and insurance and repair on the buildings on 282 acres of land surrounding the summer home where The Aunts lived. They had life-rights to remain in the house. He was also to pay an annuity of $25.00 per year to Miss H. R. Warren for life. On March 22, 1918, Louisa Warren Fraser signed a document releasing the estate of Sophronia Warren McBride from any further payment of an annuity for the sum of $400.</span></span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> There are indications that the <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Warren</city></place> family felt that they had been slighted in this distribution of land considering the significant number of years they had put into the upkeep of Rip Raps and the support of Maude McBride Dabbs and her brother Guy. There is a most courteous letter from Harriett Warren to <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Eugene</city></place> Whitefield Dabbs dated Dec. 19, 1923.</span></span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dear Mr. Dabbs,</i></span></span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Your letter received today came as a surprise to me. You mention our dear Maude. I recall a conversation I had with her when she asked me to ride with her to call at our pastors in which she told me she had recently made her will and had left an annuity to me and to my two sisters after any death. That you had remarked it was a very small legacy, she replied let it stand at that but on good crop years you could make it larger. Knowing how she felt about it I can accept this gift from you with thanks, with the liberty of using for others as well as for self as otherwise it would not be for my comfort or pleasure.</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Truly yours, Harriett Warren </span></span></i></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9tIyb2XCzqqFttm2nt2MsQi3cwGebty_apEhULuhwsWyb75PWmnUUSRK2JJ3ydyRXEIJeNCnR7LSFKWcBdg2F8m_ns_SOFltMV8N5teuNpHiPcta4bbavveowkQ-4T-ZpLDhxtM__hM8/s1600/EW+Dabbs+%2526+Sudie.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9tIyb2XCzqqFttm2nt2MsQi3cwGebty_apEhULuhwsWyb75PWmnUUSRK2JJ3ydyRXEIJeNCnR7LSFKWcBdg2F8m_ns_SOFltMV8N5teuNpHiPcta4bbavveowkQ-4T-ZpLDhxtM__hM8/s640/EW+Dabbs+%2526+Sudie.png" width="457" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Eugene Whitefield Dabbs and Sudie Furman Dabbs</div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Mr. Dabbs and Sudie were at the <place w:st="on"><placename w:st="on">Baptist</placename> <placetype w:st="on">Church</placetype></place> in Mayesville today. I had hoped Sudie would unite with Salem B(lack) R(iver Presbyterian Church), as it is so much nicer for families to be united in their religious faith, now, I feel somewhat apprehensive, as the Baptist(s) are known to be the most procelyting (sic) of all the churches, and she is a person of such strong will power …. I trust none of Maude’s children will ever think it necessary to go back on the faith and vows of their parents and be re-baptized – a truce to such fears, God forbid.”</span></span></i></div><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", serif;"></span></i><br />
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<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Other than what appear to be amiable exchanges, there is little recorded about the <city w:st="on">Warrens</city> after this point in our history, even though there are numerous Warrens who now live in the <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Sumter</city></place> area.<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>Occasionally, someone from the community will remind a Dabbs that they are a <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Warren</city></place> and their lineage goes back to a similar genealogy. This is taken with a smile and a raised eye-brow, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oh really?”</i> More commonly, a Dabbs will make reference to a wild-scheme idea made by a kin and comment slyly, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“It must be the <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Warren</city></place> in them.”</i> This is interesting considering the fact that our one connection to the Mayflower is through the <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Warren</city></place> lineage. But that <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">was</b> sort of a wild-scheme idea; wasn’t it?</span></span></div></div>Brenda Remmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02463638352253693043noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863106549789453390.post-9382113407660829172009-06-09T05:34:00.000-07:002014-02-09T06:58:22.133-08:00The Final Years of Eugene Whitefield Dabbs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_qaoOnThnWufzhZqdM6n3CiJGe2fbKQ9pUPYXgkwWPkUPlKMLaIAZ_hbhShFM3oUaMwbU66Yen1Bg0ugT963bt19NnHP0SdqI-bDUF_qOJlVGFQ9OHJqHH3yjYmol9BVZlvzvhgOLxNs/s1600/Older+EW+DABBS.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_qaoOnThnWufzhZqdM6n3CiJGe2fbKQ9pUPYXgkwWPkUPlKMLaIAZ_hbhShFM3oUaMwbU66Yen1Bg0ugT963bt19NnHP0SdqI-bDUF_qOJlVGFQ9OHJqHH3yjYmol9BVZlvzvhgOLxNs/s400/Older+EW+DABBS.png" height="400" m="" true="" width="291" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Eugene Whitefield Dabbs is remembered by his children and grandchildren as an astute and shrewd business man. His son, James, devotes the second chapter of his book, <u>The Road Home</u>, to his father describing him as a man of action who demanded perfection from all around him. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“He worked hard both because he was trained to work and because as a landless newcomer to an aristocratic community he had to succeed. I don’t think he thought himself better than others, but he knew that no one was better than he. One of his typical remarks was the old Jacksonian saying</i>; <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Every man is as good as every other man, and maybe a darned sight better.</i></b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">” </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">His efforts to be accepted by the aristocracy obviously succeeded. In a letter from James Henry Rice, Jr., to Dabbs on June 10, 1926, Rice states: “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">But I am, none the less, grateful that my youth was passed in royalty and that I was born in the purple, amid the landed gentry of his Late Majesty’s Province of South Carolina, as you were</i>.” He continues<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">, “It is a part of life’s eternal tragedy, of its inscrutable mystery, that I have been denied the only life I care to live. From my own point of view, a life in the country – a good ways in the country and off the public road at least two miles – five would suit better – is the only one that stirs my heart.”</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">In July 1904 he wrote the following letter to the Pastor and Elders at Salem (B.R.) Church;</span></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Dear Brethren: I desire to call your attention to what I consider a very serious hindrance of the Church and <place w:st="on"><placename w:st="on">Sabbath</placename> <placetype w:st="on">School</placetype></place> work. I allude to the custom of closing the church whenever it is necessary for the Pastor to have a vacation. I yield to no one in my willingness for our beloved Pastor to have all needed rest; but I think ways and means could be provided to have services in his absence; if we will take up the matter in the right. Some members of our congregation are so situated that they can attend Divine worship at other churches but there are a few of us that have not that privilege. Besides attending neighboring churches is not the same as to worship in one’s own church. I speak from experience that I doubt not many can confirm, that to see the crops and meet some friend has more to do with going to a neighboring church than our desire to worship God and hear His message. It may be said, “You must overcome that spirit. We are not so tempted but get great good by worshipping with their congregations and hearing Gods word expounded by other Ministers.” I might answer all that may be true but why then have any church at all? Or why not have service once of twice a month and have more time to go to other churches? If it is a good thing to meet every Sabbath from October to August why would it not be equally as good to meet on through August and September? Are we as a church and congregation honoring our God as we ought when we are not willing to be put to some inconvenience to help even one weak brother to a better life? It is not necessary to multiply reasons, and I will mention but one more: nearly three years ago you honored me by making me Superintendent of your <place w:st="on"><placename w:st="on">Sabbath</placename> <placetype w:st="on">School</placetype></place>. Situated as our people are it is hard enough to have anything like a regular attendance. Do you realize that this closing of the church interferes very materially with the S.S. work and attendance? Do you think that I consider this the greatest reason why the church should not be closed? Possibly, if I did not occupy the position I do in the S.S. work, I would not pen this appeal; but whether I open my mouth or not “cease not the assembling of yourselves together” is more important now as when written to the early church. If I am presumptuous Brethren in this appealing of you, I am sorry. I have tried to approach this matter in the fear of God and for which I trust is for His Glory and the good of immortal souls here in our midst. I take this method of presenting the matter to your consideration, because I think you will see it in a different light when brought to your attention collectively and also because it is so easy for me to make harsh criticism (that I afterward regret) in debate or private conversation. I beg to assure you of my entire confidence in your desire to do what is best for the advancement of Christ’s Kingdom and the peace and fellowship of His people over whom you( leadith ?) Yours in Love and Respect, EWDabbs </span></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">One cannot help but wonder what Eugene Whitefield Dabbs would say about the current schedule of <placename w:st="on">Salem</placename> <placename w:st="on">Black River</placename> <placetype w:st="on">Church</placetype> that now meets every other Sunday with no services in August, and has no <place w:st="on"><placename w:st="on">Sabbath</placename> <placetype w:st="on">School</placetype></place> at all. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">By all reports, Eugene Whitefield Dabbs was adored by his two wives and two daughters, respected by his sons, and feared by at least some of his grandchildren. There is no doubt in numerous letters of correspondence that he could be a crusty soul who sometimes angered others with his direct language.<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i> It is not uncommon to see one of his letters begin, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I must apologize for the words which I used when we last met.”</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Eugene Whitefield Dabbs invested in a mountain home in <place w:st="on"><state w:st="on">North Carolina</state></place>. It is said that he vacillated between buying property at <city w:st="on">Myrtle Beach</city> or in the mountains, but due to Mother Sudie’s great difficulty with the heat during the summer decided to buy a home in <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Tryon</city>, <state w:st="on">North Carolina</state></place>. (This picture was provided by Mike McCue of Tryon who provided one of the only existing pictures of what is believed to be the home.) During the summer time Mother Sudie and several of the children or grandchildren would spend most of the summer there enjoying the crisp, cooler air, although EW Dabbs expected the grandchildren to work upon their arrival and great attention was demanded to a grape orchard and garden. He would usually join them for several weeks, leaving the farm to be handled by his farm manager. There are numerous letters written between him and various family members who were staying at their home in Tryon indicating that there were many visitors and the family became active in the local community during the summer months. The home was sold following his death and was later destroyed by fire. His youngest son, Mac, offered the property to other family members, but most found it too isolated with very poor road access and threatened by constant break-ins during their absence. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Each of Eugene and Maude’s sons and daughters became well educated and left the Crossroads for higher education and other careers. They all ultimately returned within a few years to live the majority of their lives where they were born. James Dabbs quotes Emerson when he says, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Traveling is a fool’s paradise.” </i>There was a<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> “tendency to stay at home and let the mind travel.”</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Eugene Whitefield Dabbs had a reputation as a tough, no-nonsense farmer who from time to time angered more than one neighbor. He expected a lot from those who worked for him and was known to cuss and fuss quite a bit when things weren’t going well. Mother Sudie, who always referred to him as “Father”, would quietly put a hand on his shoulder and say, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Now, Father,”</i> and he would calm down. A man who did a lot of the work in the outside garden and barn, Mr. Julius Mitchell, frequently caught the brunt of his anger, but had grown quite used to it and seemed to accept the tirades with a good sense of humor. At the corner store, those sitting around the pot belly stove would inquire of Julius, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“So how’s old man Dabbs doing today?”</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"> </span></i><span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;">Julius would roll his eyes and respond daily, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He’s full of hisself today, yessir, full of hisself.”</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> In his book, <u>The Road Home</u>, his son, James, tells the story of when the railroad line built a track across his father’s land, he agreed to it only if they would be sure to open and close the gates consistently when the train went through so that his livestock wouldn’t stray. He tired of the engineer failing to keep the bargain and one day in exasperation yelled at his two oldest boys, Eugene, Jr., and James, to grab their guns. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“ Come on, boys. We’re going to hold up a train,”</i> he called to them as they followed him out the door. And that he did. At gun point he ordered the engineer and passengers off the train and sent them walking back to Mayesville. He took custody of the train and there followed a law suit which evidently went on for years. There’s no report of how it was settled, but since there’s no train sitting on Dabbs land today, we can assume it was returned to its rightful owner eventually.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The notes and letters of EW Dabbs reveal a man involved in a wide variety of activities. He kept detailed records on small 2x4 notepads that fit into his shirt or pants pocket. Writing down what he paid for every item, from fertilizer to a loaf of bread, he accumulated a vast record of his receipts and expenditures. He rented out land for small crop farming and charged for tenant housing. One record shows over 34 rental properties. He sold fishing licenses on the Black River Swamp for $3.00 a piece and in one letter he chided the McFaddins when he discovered they were selling licenses also on swamp property that he owned. He was elected to the State Legislature for a two year period beginning in 1906 and ran unsuccessfully for Commissioner of Agriculture, Commerce, and Industries. In stating his qualifications for the job he listed, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Secretary of Sumter County Agriculture Society for two years, Secretary of the Sumter County Farmers Alliance, Member Cotton Association, Helped to start the Department of Agriculture in 1904, Vice President and then President of the Sumter County Farmers Union, Member of the National Farmers Union Committee, Member of the Cotton Seed Division of the Food Administration and as such saved the cotton seed industry at the end of the war and caused to be refunded to farmers many thousands of dollars for seed sold under the fixed price.” </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> In an exchange of letters between Hugh Humphreys of the Dixie Brand Cotton Seed Meal in Memphis, Tenn., Mr. Humpreys confirms that politics pretty much remain the same when he writes on April 15, 1921; “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Apparently the Democrats must oppose any measure offered by the Republicans, although it may be for the best interest of the country that such measure passes. I observe this morning Senator Cochran states that on account of the tariff – largely designed to protect the American producers – that we will have Soup Kitchens; whereas there is enough grain and meats in the United States to last about two years, not to mention our supply of cotton, etc. However, these Democrats – although mostly from the producing territory – would have the country flooded with Oriental oils and Oriental produce produced by Coolie labor, because in some years past we followed the wrong theory. </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;">I think you will agree that a wise man changes, and a fool never does.”</span></u></i><u><span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"> </span></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Eugene Whitefield Dabbs is also listed as being a member of the Sumter County Democratic Executive Committee, Clerk of the Board of School Trustees for 25 year and a Deacon and Treasurer of his church.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">And still his letters show a deep sense of warmth and love for his two wives and his children. On May 7, 1915, he wrote to James while he was a student at USC in reference to his dead mother, Alice Maude, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I hope your dear Mother can see how fine you are – how handsome – and what a credit to her loving prayers and training and blood – for blood will tell – you are.” </i>To his daughter, Elizabeth, who was away at Columbia University, he wrote on August 21, 1921, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“If I had a million dollars to give you it would not represent my love,”…….”so I am just writing this little note to tell you that I can not say how much I love you, how much your beautiful life has been to me these years that are so rapidly passing.”</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">On June 10, 1915, he wrote to James, the heir to Rip Raps, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“I am afraid you have too exalted an idea of what a rich man you will be when you inherit ‘Rip Raps’, and I fear Rip Raps may not be there for you before the end of the year.” </i>While his letters convey deep concern about the farm and the financial burden that came with it, it is important to realize that at his death he left little debt for others to carry.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Eugene Whitefield Dabbs died May 31, 1933, at 69 years of age, waiting for breakfast. He had dressed, said good morning to his youngest son, Guy McBride (Mac), and went out on the piazza to look across the field. When Mac went to get him five minutes later, he was dead, sitting upright in a rocker, his walking stick hung over the arm and his head slumped forward. At his funeral one of the members of the community spoke. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Mr. Dabbs was an honest man,”</i> he said. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He wasn’t only honest himself, he made everybody around him honest.” </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Eugene Whitefield Dabbs left a very detailed will replacing one he had written prior to Mother Sudie’s death and stipulating that should he marry a third time, his third wife would be taken care of for the remainder of her life. (What is interesting is that at 69, having suffered a stroke, he was still considering the possibility of a third marriage.) In this will he left to E. W. Dabbs, Jr., the gold berry spoon awarded to his father (John Quincy Adams Dabbs) sixty years ago in 1872 for the best bale of cotton at the <place w:st="on">Darlington</place> fair. To James McBride Dabbs the spoon awarded to his father the following year for the best bale of cotton. The rest of the silver was to be divided equally among his children.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">In particular he included detailed specifications of land distribution stating specifically that, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“In as much as the late Mrs. McBride made special provisions for my son, James McBride Dabbs, I desire the land that I inherited from her daughter, my late wife, to be so divided among our children that the inequality thereby caused may be remediated as far as possible.” </i>This balancing act of trying to equalize distribution of land among the off-spring has remained within the family since this time.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Eugene W. Dabbs looking at a picture of his Grandson with second wife, Sudie Furman</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;">Poem by Elizabeth Dabbs Thompson 5/31/1934</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;">In Memoriam – Eugene Whitefield Dabbs</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;">Died 5/31/1933</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;">He went forth in a glorious way</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;">The morning of the last of May</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;">The day before him open wide</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;">He sat down in his chair and died.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;">A prince among strong men was he.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;">He did so love good company.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;">Now he can journey with – he’ll see</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;">His heroes – Calhoun, Hampton, Lee.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;">I’m glad twas early morn he went</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;">For then before the day was spent.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;">He did have time to travel far.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;">To the most distant heavenly star</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;">To see what it was all about.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;">Travel on in the dawn, dear one, travel on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;">Into the dim, mysterious far beyond.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;">But each night come back </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"> where you’re known the best.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;">Come home to your own dear pines to rest.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Eugene Whitefield Dabbs was interested in journalism, even entered college for one year with intentions to major in journalism. The death of his father, however, brought him back home to take care of his mother. He continued to write throughout his life leaving volumes of information on farming during that time in history. As a farmer he kept precise and informative records concerning his crops and animals. In addition, he never hesitated to write letters on a regular basis to whomever he thought would benefit from his opinion, including the State newspaper, the Governor, the Commissioner of Agriculture, John D. Rockefeller, and the various Presidents of the <place w:st="on"><country-region w:st="on">United States</country-region></place>. At the death of his second son, James McBride Dabbs in 1970, hundreds of letters written to James during his lifetime were turned over to the <place w:st="on"><placetype w:st="on">University</placetype> of <placename w:st="on">South Carolina</placename></place> – Caroliniana Library. These letters are available to the public in <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Columbia</city></place>. Tom Johnson, who did his doctorate thesis on James McBride Dabbs, stated that the largest collection of information on any one family in the state is that of the Dabbs family due to the copious letters that Eugene Whitefield Dabbs and his son, James McBride Dabbs, exchanged and the fact that the James McBride Dabbs family donated most of them to the Caroliniana Library. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Yet, the Eugene Whitefield Dabbs family lived alone on their land with most of their farm help coming from the black community in the area. During those days the major road was the <street w:st="on"></street></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span> <br />
<address w:st="on">
<span style="font-size: large;">Kingstree Highway</span></address>
<span style="font-size: large;">that went north to Bishopville and south to Kingstree. A school house sat across the road from the original home that Eugene Whitefield Dabbs and Maude McBride Dabbs lived in on <street w:st="on"></street></span><br />
<address w:st="on">
<span style="font-size: large;">Kingstree Highway</span></address>
<span style="font-size: large;">(now called Highway 527) and thus the children had all they needed within walking distance of the Crossroads. To get to <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Sumter</city></place>, one would have to go via Mayesville. Highway 378 had not yet been built and the swamp separated the two communities. Eugene Whitefield Dabbs had little trust for the folks in <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Sumter</city></place> anyway, and the only reason to go north was for church each Sunday at Salem Black River Presbyterian Church a mile from the Crossroads. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <place w:st="on"><placename w:st="on"><span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;">Brick</span></placename><span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"> <placetype w:st="on">Church</placetype></span></place><span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"> played a significant part in the lives of the Dabbs family and the other families in the community, among them the Coopers, Muldrow’s, Wilsons and Witherspoons. Eugene Whitefield Dabbs served as a Deacon and treasurer of his church and as with most things, never failed to let his opinion be known. He and the Reverend Workman exchanged several heated letters, one of which suggested that E.W. Dabbs may wish to consider joining another church. It is said after one particularly argumentative Session Meeting where Eugene and one of the Muldrows failed to reach an agreement, the minister asked <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Eugene</city></place> to offer a closing prayer at the end of the church service in hopes of calming tempers<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">. “Dear Lord,” </i>he<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>began<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">, “Pleased help the misguided Muldrows to see the errors of their ways.”</i></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Eugene Whitefield Dabbs was interested in journalism, even entered college for one year with intentions to major in journalism. The death of his father, however, brought him back home to take care of his mother. He continued to write throughout his life leaving volumes of information on farming during that time in history. As a farmer he kept precise and informative records concerning his crops and animals. In addition, he never hesitated to write letters on a regular basis to whomever he thought would benefit from his opinion, including the State newspaper, the Governor, the Commissioner of Agriculture, John D. Rockefeller, and the various Presidents of the <place w:st="on"><country-region w:st="on">United States</country-region></place>. At the death of his second son, James McBride Dabbs in 1970, hundreds of letters written to James during his lifetime were turned over to the <place w:st="on"><placetype w:st="on">University</placetype> of <placename w:st="on">South Carolina</placename></place> – Caroliniana Library. These letters are available to the public in <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Columbia</city></place>. Tom Johnson, who did his doctorate thesis on James McBride Dabbs, stated that the largest collection of information on any one family in the state is that of the Dabbs family due to the copious letters that Eugene Whitefield Dabbs and his son, James McBride Dabbs, exchanged and the fact that the James McBride Dabbs family donated most of them to the Caroliniana Library. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'High Tower Text', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Yet, the Eugene Whitefield Dabbs family lived alone on their land with most of their farm help coming from the black community in the area. During those days the major road was the <street w:st="on"></street></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<address w:st="on">
<span style="font-size: large;">Kingstree Highway</span></address>
<span style="font-size: large;">that went north to Bishopville and south to Kingstree. A school house sat across the road from the original home that Eugene Whitefield Dabbs and Maude McBride Dabbs lived in on <street w:st="on"></street></span><br />
<address w:st="on">
<span style="font-size: large;">Kingstree Highway</span></address>
<span style="font-size: large;">(now called Highway 527) and thus the children had all they needed within walking distance of the Crossroads. To get to <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Sumter</city></place>, one would have to go via Mayesville. Highway 378 had not yet been built and the swamp separated the two communities. Eugene Whitefield Dabbs had little trust for the folks in <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Sumter</city></place> anyway, and the only reason to go north was for church each Sunday at Salem Black River Presbyterian Church a mile from the Crossroads. </span></div>
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Brenda Remmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02463638352253693043noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863106549789453390.post-61282102654768476102009-04-12T05:49:00.000-07:002012-09-08T12:02:45.688-07:00Maude & EW Dabbs Children as Adults<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Im-hOX7HTbHMIKIcPJX5N93UGGTtzAVXPZC3QO68r_wwll2GqAi-NZ0QTMy2kErA_AUYOZ-NC4z5kAvddfZ_rzahUXP-17oRnHmfal5K47AJSTEZYKGp41dQ4mDPPFtCdYeliamDjgI/s1600/Adult+EW+Dabbs+Family.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="326" m="m" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Im-hOX7HTbHMIKIcPJX5N93UGGTtzAVXPZC3QO68r_wwll2GqAi-NZ0QTMy2kErA_AUYOZ-NC4z5kAvddfZ_rzahUXP-17oRnHmfal5K47AJSTEZYKGp41dQ4mDPPFtCdYeliamDjgI/s400/Adult+EW+Dabbs+Family.png" true="true" width="400" /></a></div>
Elizabeth Dabbs (lower left); Sophie Dabbs on step above her, Mother Suddie Furman on top step holding the dog, from L-R Eugene W. Dabbs, Senior, baby Louise Dabbs in the arms of her father, Eugene W. Dabbs, Jr., with his hand on his son, Billy Dabbs. Young son of Eugene Senior, Guy McBride Dabbs to the far right. (James Dabbs is the only son not in this pictures. Thomas Hoole had died at age 9.)Brenda Remmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02463638352253693043noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863106549789453390.post-36280251361997657362009-03-12T06:01:00.000-07:002011-07-15T14:31:39.695-07:00Picture of Children and Grandchildren of EW Dabbs & Maude<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho0egjFRGGLsWf8pkf2w-a42dcBbZ8SJJpWaibbmtf5grY6mEQ_bS31TJYtsCiRJ1CdH9aVObbnk6mM51EUj717wtc6XCsrKBfbMkDSlz4es5_jPoerwO03WxQ4LYxYlmJ-h-ZxQ1jt-s/s1600/Children+and+grandchild+pictures.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="336" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho0egjFRGGLsWf8pkf2w-a42dcBbZ8SJJpWaibbmtf5grY6mEQ_bS31TJYtsCiRJ1CdH9aVObbnk6mM51EUj717wtc6XCsrKBfbMkDSlz4es5_jPoerwO03WxQ4LYxYlmJ-h-ZxQ1jt-s/s400/Children+and+grandchild+pictures.png" width="400" /></a></div>Four of the children and most of the grandchildren of Eugene Whitefield and Maude McBride Dabbs are in this photo. At this printing, only four are currently living. <br />
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Bottom Row: L_R Unknown soldier, Carolyn Dabbs, Thomas M. Dabbs, James M. Dabbs, Jr. (petting dog) Martha Dabbs, Guy McBride Dabbs, Jr., <br />
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Second row, L_R: Sophie Dabbs, Maude Dabbs, Stella Dabbs, Joseph Dabbs John Dabbs (behind Joe) Elizabeth Dabbs Thompson and Walter Thompson.<br />
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Top Row, L-R; Edith Dabbs holding Dorothy Dabbs, James McBride Dabbs, Guy McBride Dabbs, Wrenna Dabbs, Louise Dabbs<br />
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Not present: Eugene W. Dabbs, Jr., and Furman Dabbs had both recently died. E.W. Dabbs, III and Wm. A Dabbs were in the military. Richard W. Dabbs was not yet born.Brenda Remmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02463638352253693043noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863106549789453390.post-55457634267135158252009-01-12T06:18:00.000-08:002012-01-05T10:08:51.710-08:00Eugene Whitefield Dabbs, Jr.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpvjAB0vHw7V1AL2jtzVHCr0_lQKYeVSJ1CcEm_aN88K03el2jX95VSAIXFt7HyjGABGhzcuUM0md9eHAwvNaEGWKMFAenhthNxQwDSn0bwQoMpxLxC4b2fI_WO-XymZkBOMIV6JmB8rE/s1600/EW+Dabbs%252C+Jr..png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpvjAB0vHw7V1AL2jtzVHCr0_lQKYeVSJ1CcEm_aN88K03el2jX95VSAIXFt7HyjGABGhzcuUM0md9eHAwvNaEGWKMFAenhthNxQwDSn0bwQoMpxLxC4b2fI_WO-XymZkBOMIV6JmB8rE/s320/EW+Dabbs%252C+Jr..png" width="238" /></a></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">The oldest son of Eugene Whitefield Dabbs was named in honor of his father.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Being 14 years of age at the time of his mother’s death, Eugene Dabbs, Jr., was sent to Donaldson Military Academy in Fayetteville, NC, and then to The Citadel where he graduated in 1914.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He served as president of the cadets Young Men’s Christian Association and also of the Calhopean Literary Society and held the rank of Captain of the Company B Cadet Corps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a letter<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>on October 4, 1914, written to Sudie Furman Dabbs while her husband, Eugene, was down in <city w:st="on">Charleston</city> at his son’s graduation, Dabbs writes, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Capt. John Moore told me he regarded <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Eugene</city></place> as the finest man in the Citadel and Capt. Gaston said without a doubt he was the finest military<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>man in the corps.”</i> Upon leaving, his Cadet Corps presented him with a beautiful ornamental sword that was given to Edward Rees Dabbs, the only grandchild to also graduate from The Citadel, and then by Rees to a great grand-son, John Rhys Bevan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">The Citadel was a bastion of pride for the Dabbs Family and service to one’s country would be considered of foremost importance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><u>When your country calls, you go</u>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There would be little margin for compromise on that point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During the years of <place w:st="on"><country-region w:st="on">Vietnam</country-region></place> in the 60’s and 70’s one of his grandchildren asked what their grandfather would have thought of those who found moral grounds to protest the war. "<em>Not much,"</em> was the answer. The country came first, and one did not question the requirements made by your country. "<em>After all, your grandfather sent four of his sons to fight in WWII and one did not return."</em></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: High Tower Text; font-size: large;">Eugene Dabbs, Jr., was commissioned a lieutenant in the Infantry Reserve Corps and assigned to the 81st Division, 324th Infantry, stationed at Camp Jackson. He was sent overseas with that division and participated in the Meuse-Argonne offensive. Following the Armistice, he was attached to the Army of Occupation in Germany. He later returned to the United States and honorably mustered out of the military service in September 1919.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: High Tower Text; font-size: large;">For a couple of years after he graduated from the Citadel, Eugene Dabbs, Jr., returned home to work on the farm. During a brief time, he lived in the home on Highway 527 and his Aunt Julia Warren helped out with housekeeping and cooking for him. It was during this time that he met his wife, Stella Glascock from Rock Hill, South Carolina. Billy Dabbs maintains that his father said he got married in order to get Aunt Julia out of the house. Evidently, Aunt Julia's wedding gift to Eugene and Stella was a large sack of hard biscuits to see them through while Stella learned to cook. Stella immediate threw them all out.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: High Tower Text; font-size: large;">Miss Glascock spelled her name with only one "s" because she thought it looked better that way. On her birth certificate it is spelled Glasscock. Her firsst name was Addie, but she hated it and never, ever used it. I include it only because it's such a great trivial pursuit question, since few people know it. Stella came to the Baker School wesst of Mayesville at a very young age of 16 or 17 to be a teacher there. She was the daughter of Margaret Lourine Hayes Glasscock (known to her family as Lula, or "Miss Lou") and Alexander Kohath Glasscock. She had a step-sister, Eula, and a step-brother, Bud, by her father's first marriage, and one sister and one brother: Uncle Loraine (Aunt Grace's husband) and Aunt Lucile. (Celeste Prince was the only child of Loraine and Grace and stayed in close contact with the family. Her husband was Phil Prince, noted for his devotion and money-raising capabilities for Clemson University.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: High Tower Text; font-size: large;">Stella was devoted to her mother, but critical of her father, of whom she seldom spoke. She made reference on occasion to a drinking problem within the family. Never one to present to the pubic anything that wasn't favorable about the family, she would disapprove of the meniton of such a problem in the family history. Her children do recall one of her brothers arriving drunk at their house one evening and telling Stella he didn't have any place to spend the night. She responded that he STILL didn't have any place to spend the night since she had no intentions of letting him in the front door. Her sister-in-law, Aunt Grace, did confirm years after Stella's death that her father drank considerably and could become quite mean-spirited when he did. A reference was made to him throwing a pot of hot soup across the kitchen one evening. During that same conversation, however, Aunt Grace defended this flaw due to the unusual number of still that were located in the community and the lack of other local entertainment. "<em>Just what else was a man to do?"</em> Aunt Grace went on to say that Stella and her father did not get along well and there was the implication that her mother, Miss Lou, thought it best to get Stella out of the house at a young age.</span></div><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"></span><br />
<div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";">While teaching, Stella boarded with a family by the name of <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Bell</city></place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her second year there,</span><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"> another young woman joined her as a teacher in what was a two room country school house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The second teacher also lived with the Bells.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While a fine woman, evidently Mrs. Bell was not much on housekeeping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The young women decided they’d do more of their own cooking and cleaning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is told that one night a lizard (or other possible night creature) ran over Stella while she was sleeping and it upset her tremendously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mrs. Bell contacted the Coopers in Mayesville and asked that the two young ladies be invited down to the Salem Community for a weekend get-away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A small party was planned for them by the Coopers and it was here that Stella Glascock met Eugene Dabbs, Jr.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were married in 1916.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eugene Dabbs, Jr., had been seeing Miss Anna Workman up until this time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Miss Workman later moved with her family to <place w:st="on">Darlington</place> but never married.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stella Dabbs commented once that it was a good thing Anna Workman hadn’t married <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Eugene</city></place>. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Miss Anna just wasn’t cut out for all of the work required by any woman who marries a Dabbs.”</i></span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eugene Dabbs, Jr., was young and handsome.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He dabbled at farming and married before the start of WW I and <span style="color: black;">then left as a lieutenant with the 81<sup>st</sup> Division.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During the time that he was gone, Stella and her first child, EW Dabbs, III, moved into the family home now called <placename w:st="on">Fern</placename> <placetype w:st="on">Park</placetype> with <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Eugene</place></city>’s parents, Mother Sudie and Eugene Whitefield Dabbs, along with her sister-in-law, Jessie, who had married James M. Dabbs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyday Stella would walk through the woods and cross Highway 527 to teach at the Salem Schoolhouse that sat between the store and the house she would eventually call home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She felt sorry for Jessie who was left behind to mind children all day and indeed, the tension between Jessie and Mother Sudie grew, despite the fact that Mother Sudie and Father Dabbs tried hard to accommodate their sons’ wives. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had even given the young women their bedroom so that they would have more space.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But Mother Sudie ran a strict household, and it was never questioned that she was in charge.</span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stella, once remarked that she remembered traveling up with Eugene, Jr., and their baby to see him sail off to occupied <place w:st="on"><country-region w:st="on">Germany</country-region></place> while she stood on the pier crying as he left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">That ole goat,” </i>she said. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You know he had the time of his life in <place w:st="on"><country-region w:st="on">Germany</country-region></place>.” </i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He lived with a German family while he was there and he loved it.”</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For years after that the family had an annual exchange of letters and small gifts between themselves and the German family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They evidently loved <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Eugene</city></place> also.</span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">Eugene Dabbs, Jr., was a gregarious soul with a wonderful laugh and a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">joie de</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">vivre</i> that existed despite tough financial times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He never missed a political rally nor a funeral.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><state w:st="on">Ill</state> suited for farming, <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Eugene</place></city> would have probably done better in law, education, or perhaps a career in the military where his former troops had highly praised his skills. But the family farm is where he remained after a brief dabble in politics serving as a State Legislator from 1923-1924 and 1927-1928 then turning his attentions elsewhere after a disappointing defeat in 1928.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“The Lord will provide</i>,” he’d tell his wife, Stella, as they struggled to meet monthly bills<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“He did provide,” </i>she’d respond<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“He provided ME.”</i></span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">His father, who use to be constantly advertising for an overseer for different sections of his business through the market bulletins (not the best place to get dependable help) liked to tell the story of going to look for his overseer one day when he didn’t show up for work and finding him sitting on the porch of his cabin with a rifle in hand.</span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";">“Why aren’t you at work today,”</span></i><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"> Mr. Dabbs asked.</span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";">“Can’t come.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got to kill three people first,”</span></i><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"> was the reply.</span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">“Who you plannin’ to kill?”</span></span></i></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">“Well, sir.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got to kill Nat Fortune cus he lies all the time.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></i></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";">“That he does,”</span></i><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>agreed Eugene Dabbs<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Who else you gonna kill?”</i></span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Got to kill <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Monroe</place></city> cus he steals.”</i></span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“That he does,”</i> agreed Eugene Dabbs a second time<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Now who else you plannin’ to kill?”</i></span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">“Got to kill your son, Mr. EW Dabbs, Jr.”</span></span></i></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">“Why you gonna kill my son?”</span></span></i></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">“Well, sir.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He walks around actin’ like he’s worth a million dollars, and he ain’t worth a damn.”</span></span></i></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">Both father and son told that story with relish and EW Dabbs, Jr., laughed louder than anyone.</span></span></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv2Z4MCuxvnGgL774inJSxoxxMrFE8Jm2L_SEq6QJ7CKrn0iYqJkzIJhfii7aS-7nVuWOySjUm8CtH1saHOE8MgtlnijFhaDaL4ZfafQhP9j_21Sx7i3uF58DrXPijVb64KrUtqO0S6x0/s1600/EW+Dabbs.+Jr.+older.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv2Z4MCuxvnGgL774inJSxoxxMrFE8Jm2L_SEq6QJ7CKrn0iYqJkzIJhfii7aS-7nVuWOySjUm8CtH1saHOE8MgtlnijFhaDaL4ZfafQhP9j_21Sx7i3uF58DrXPijVb64KrUtqO0S6x0/s400/EW+Dabbs.+Jr.+older.png" width="291" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">EW Dabbs, Jr,. as a State Legislator</td></tr>
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<div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eugene, Jr., was a dresser.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He enjoyed being around people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He never met a stranger. He sought out companionship and he loved to travel. This appears to be a common trait in many Dabbs men, their delightful affability for making friends and enjoying good company. Nothing beats a good humored debate that matches wit and embellishes the details. It was not uncommon for the Eugene Dabbs, Jr., family to stop in the middle of a trip to track down a “Dabbs” in a strange community to see if there was a family connection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This seldom met with Stella’s approval since she was not always impressed with the social standing they found among many of these Dabbses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One time on a trip they passed an old dilapidated store that had “Dabbs Store” written across the front and <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Eugene</city></place> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>pulled in to inquire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stella absolutely refused to let him get out of the car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She said she would not what to be related to anyone that would own such an impoverished looking place. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With great disappointment, <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Eugene</place></city> drove on.</span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">There was many times Eugene, Jr., <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>borrowed money for a family vacation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It would vex Stella to no end since they were always behind in bills, but<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Louise <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>recalls, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He got his vacations, and his life insurance paid for them in the end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If he’d waited until he had the money, he never would have gone anywhere.”</i></span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">Eugene Dabbs, Jr.,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>returned from WWI to the Crossroads where he and Stella<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>moved into the first home on Highway 527 that his mother and father had lived in and began raising a family of six children:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eugene Whitefield Dabbs, III,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(1917-2005),<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Richard Furman<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dabbs (1920-1942), William Alexander (Billy) Dabbs (1922), Margaret Louise Dabbs (1925), Thomas (Tommy) McBride<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dabbs (1927), and Joseph (Joe) Samuel<span style="color: magenta;"> </span>Dabbs (1933).<span style="color: magenta;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span>They worked at farming, but they did not prosper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i></span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i><place w:st="on"><city w:st="on"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";">Eugene</span></city></place><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"> made a poor calculation at the beginning of his farming career and borrowed $20,000 to buy cows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shortly thereafter the cows got into some arsenic that was used around the farm in a concoction of arsenic/molasses to fight boll weevils on cotton.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The arsenic was stored under the shed and had salt in it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The cows licked it and they all died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That debt hung over their heads until after <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Eugene</city></place>’s death.<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i></span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">Times were hard for everyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shoes were expensive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Children, including the Dabbs children, went barefoot to school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Weekly, travelers walked the road in front of the house carrying their possessions with them and looking for work or food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Billy Dabbs recalls saying to his father that he wanted to be like the travelers and be on the road going places and looking for adventure<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You don’t know how close you are to doing just that, my son,” </i>was his father’s reply.</span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">Mother Sudie was obviously concerned about the family also.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She deeded a track of land that she had inherited in the Privateer Community near Shaw Field to Eugene and Stella’s second son, Furman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were behind in their mortgage payments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the event that they would lose their home she figured the family would have some place to go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In later life, Stella would reveal that the bank had actually presented the family with a foreclosure notice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That same week President Franklin D. Roosevelt placed a moratorium on all home foreclosures and <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Eugene</city></place> and Stella and their children were allowed to remain in their home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Eugene</city></place> was a loyal supporter of FDR from that day on.</span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">Stella, ultimately, was the entrepreneur.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was she who began seeking other sources of income to support the family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In their one-story four room home, they boarded two teachers along with the children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Going to the farmers market in Sumter, Stella started taking bread and flowers to sell and quickly found that her flowers sold far better than </span></span><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">her bread.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over a period of time she continued to develop, first a side yard and then several acres of outdoor and indoor shrubbery and plants.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In addition to their 140 acres of farming land that grew cotton, corn and tobacco, Stella and <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";">Eugene</span></city></place><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"> were now operating Oak Lawn Nurseries where they raised ornamental plants and shrubs, bulbs and cut flowers for market. </span></span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">A love-apple business was developed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Building on her love of plants and her creative adventures in hybrid and cross-pollination she spent 11 years developing a thornless Love Apple that was given the botanical name Solamum intedrifolium.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A decorative plant that had a long stem with small orange tomato shaped bulbs, a market was established in <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Philadelphia</city></place> where they would ship weekly crates of love apples for the florists of the northeast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The plant traveled well and the decorative balls lasted for weeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Daily the farm hands and children would cut the stalks of love apples from the bushes and then strip away the thorns and leaves. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wooden slat crates were made in the back yard under the oak trees and the love apples were wrapped loosely in brown paper and rubber bands and then carried to the train station.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The family averaged about $4,000 annually from the love apple business, which was more than what the rest of the family operation brought in all together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It became a sizeable portion of their income.</span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">It was this landscaping ability that befriended Eugene and Stella with Mr.& Mrs. Howard Hadden from Kingstree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What started as a business relationship, (the landscaping of the home built by these New Yorkers settling in the Kingstree area) became a friendship between the two couples.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When Eugene and Stella began discussing an addition to their one-story four room house in 1936, the architect, Howard<span style="color: magenta;"> </span>Hadden,<span style="color: magenta;"> </span>encouraged them to allow him to design it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hadden made them agree that should they decide to go with his design, they would not change one single thing. It was in this way that the one story-four-room home on Highway 527, later known as Whitefield, was turned into the beautiful six-column, white southern home that exists today. Accompanied by Stella's constant attention to the yard and landscaping, the first home of Eugene Whitefield Dabbs and Maude McBride is today one of the most beautiful homes at the Crossroads.</span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;"></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6bA3iWzliXGR-Fh39li33LG9jdtXnnaV6wbSG2hN6Ey93DrzGwZ-Vdtkz0QP7AIoe5oFkfcC-xjA3rMPhYUFNTadxKW-hRaeXPZAY_pJR7HJmuoeBSQ0nJz7Zb93i-q8Nxmuhip68szU/s1600/Stella+Dabbs.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="320" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6bA3iWzliXGR-Fh39li33LG9jdtXnnaV6wbSG2hN6Ey93DrzGwZ-Vdtkz0QP7AIoe5oFkfcC-xjA3rMPhYUFNTadxKW-hRaeXPZAY_pJR7HJmuoeBSQ0nJz7Zb93i-q8Nxmuhip68szU/s320/Stella+Dabbs.png" width="220" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Stella Glascock Dabbs as ayoung woman</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0f8spbgYQ8Pq-OuTOwIXTDMNvKNIgoVjSJVGSq_vHI7amKN2tch9PxH6XWc88RqKwSmxc1j0o1hKb-d2pEIKZ10Jq0zy4Dz5ZHpdyWR0fDBuCoTR0UxhuLN42wk_5fSJ2IOh09E8MHrg/s1600/Lou+Glascock.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0f8spbgYQ8Pq-OuTOwIXTDMNvKNIgoVjSJVGSq_vHI7amKN2tch9PxH6XWc88RqKwSmxc1j0o1hKb-d2pEIKZ10Jq0zy4Dz5ZHpdyWR0fDBuCoTR0UxhuLN42wk_5fSJ2IOh09E8MHrg/s320/Lou+Glascock.png" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Margaret Lourine Hayes Glasscock<br />
Stella's mother, "Miss Lou"</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"></div><div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglCGfT4RZuM744ojvTC1qqJJk-OJOfXCA8gM18Jc1rgFpk8SIC1Eebl5ovxE48FXdJCL9qcgA5ZkZRxnfSlBVCRlvu0In1ccI44rvJZMwFeOgkyPi21LlY_EPHwCcaa2zusE5pWWjEiLA/s1600/Lou+Glascock.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></a></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi10Tu4_NjSDy0yF_8c_uAUwji2d9YKHa6l7ILk9xo1FHk79b5jLLAaqSB5sFgaJSFODNKs0Ehl3xxqtu05HMV0eOuystATMiRXsCbvE4gePrPcCIwXpAqcGDDrCNSHb3cGbgbwyppOx6M/s1600/Stella+as+a+widow.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi10Tu4_NjSDy0yF_8c_uAUwji2d9YKHa6l7ILk9xo1FHk79b5jLLAaqSB5sFgaJSFODNKs0Ehl3xxqtu05HMV0eOuystATMiRXsCbvE4gePrPcCIwXpAqcGDDrCNSHb3cGbgbwyppOx6M/s320/Stella+as+a+widow.png" width="228" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stella, a widow for forty years<br />
became a legend in her own time.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"></span></div><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;"></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">At Stella’s death the house was left to her children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her daughter, Louise and son-in-law, John M. Bevan, bought the home from the brothers. Remodeling was done primarily to the bathrooms and the kitchen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A sleeping porch on the back of the house was closed in and the downstairs bedroom was expanded onto that porch adding a bathroom and closet space.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The side porch was also extended.</span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">In 1989 Hurricane Hugo tore through the Crossroads leaving massive damage to all of the Dabbs homes and destroying thousands of trees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Twenty years later the houses have since been repaired and new trees and shrubs are growing, but it is a different look at the Crossroads than in the mid 1900’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where there were once homes nestled within forests of cathedral pines covered in Spanish Moss and the ground layered in pine straw there is now grass surrounding homes with 20 year old pines finally beginning to again provide shade in the summer time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where air-conditioning was once unheard of, it is now a necessity.</span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6XxPHwIG6xJH85y9o3Uhb9o_gxjx7A6pCNC4FudFgrd7L6EjykvgOrDnfehnhh74hj8nPzhGeHMYb3tV2bTihBiJUjxx4UqNs6UFYXV65QkReSGU9Tut4wDWTeiY-QUs4pRDlW14kR5M/s1600/Whitfield+today.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6XxPHwIG6xJH85y9o3Uhb9o_gxjx7A6pCNC4FudFgrd7L6EjykvgOrDnfehnhh74hj8nPzhGeHMYb3tV2bTihBiJUjxx4UqNs6UFYXV65QkReSGU9Tut4wDWTeiY-QUs4pRDlW14kR5M/s640/Whitfield+today.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Whitfield, as it stands today, twenty years after Hurricane Hugo destroyed thousands of the trees and shrubs.</td></tr>
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</span></span></div>Brenda Remmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02463638352253693043noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863106549789453390.post-34722219999951578402008-12-10T12:35:00.000-08:002011-07-13T12:59:57.702-07:00Stella Dabbs, on her own<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ30j2SVOYU3M0BmcESUqNaf7XVj3bYf4ey5x72K50Qi4wKmn66H6y5WKJV_ur-d-nP0mBoRWxxgaTW5RPgVgmRRGOJIRYxbTnCz3VMpNbRlWzo6Gt8JG_rQJV_4ZjX3GKOAL7KpS341w/s1600/Stella+as+a+widow.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ30j2SVOYU3M0BmcESUqNaf7XVj3bYf4ey5x72K50Qi4wKmn66H6y5WKJV_ur-d-nP0mBoRWxxgaTW5RPgVgmRRGOJIRYxbTnCz3VMpNbRlWzo6Gt8JG_rQJV_4ZjX3GKOAL7KpS341w/s400/Stella+as+a+widow.png" width="286" /></a></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">On December 27, 1943,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>at six in the morning, <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Eugene</city></place> called to Stella,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Stella! Stella!, Billy just called.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He said he’s married.”</i></span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was a long pause before Stella was heard calling down from the second floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Whom did he marry?”</i> </span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I don’t know,”</span></i><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"> <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Eugene</city></place> responded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“I didn’t ask.”</i></span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stella immediately began calling around the community to find out if anyone was missing a daughter, per chance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just so as not to raise any suspicion, Lynda Corbett Dabbs recalls, both Billy and Lynda had dates with different people the night they married each other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After their dates they met and eloped to Wysacky where they woke up a Justice of the Peace who performed the service.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lynda had one semester left to finish her college degree, but Billy was on Christmas leave from the Navy and wanted to get married.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After she insisted that they wait she began to have second thoughts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was just so good looking and he might meet someone else while she was sitting at home waiting.</span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">When Stella finally connected up with the Corbetts and realized that Lynda Corbett was the bride, she felt the family had an obligation to have a reception for the two newly-weds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The family went into high gear, recalls Louise, and began squeezing orange after orange for orange-juice and calling neighbors to invite them to the house for an afternoon reception.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lynda was absolutely exhausted, having not slept at all the night before and then standing in a receiving line that afternoon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stella slipped her wedding ring on Lynda’s hand when they first arrived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She thought a new bride should at least be wearing a wedding ring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Years later Lynda would treat herself to the diamond that she had always wanted and Billy would pay for it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a good investment.</span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">The next day Eugene Dabbs, Jr., told his wife, Stella, he thought he’d take the bus into <city w:st="on">Columbia</city> to the <place w:st="on"><placename w:st="on">Veterans</placename> <placetype w:st="on">Hospital</placetype></place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A very heavy man now, Dabbs had been plagued with heart problems for several years and it was not unusual for him to catch the bus that went right in front of their house on Highway 378 and go to the <placename w:st="on">Veterans</placename> <placetype w:st="on">Hospital</placetype> in <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Columbia</city></place> for a few days to get things checked-out. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had been in the hospital before Christmas, evidently checking himself in and out at will, and had returned home for the holidays. His last stay would be only for two days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A friend reported going to visit him and having a casual chat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He appeared to be upbeat and improving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He turned to leave and when he got to the door and turn around to say good-bye, Eugene Dabbs, Jr., was dead.</span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">Stella, always a no-nonsense woman to begin with, was even more focused and on-task now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As she moved around the house to make funeral plans, she went into the kitchen to tell Lovella Ceasar who had cooked for the family for years that Mr. Dabbs was dead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lovellla let out a shriek and began wailing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Get a hold of yourself, Lou,” </i>Stella snapped, and then gave her a shake<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“If I can handle this, you can too.”</i></span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">And thus began Stella’s life as a widow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>48 years old having just lost a son in the war with two sons still fighting overseas, one daughter in college and two younger boys <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>at home helping to support a struggling farm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the next forty-one years of her life she would remain at Whitfield becoming every bit the matriarch of her children and their families.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She became a legend in her own time with daughters-in-law struggling to maintain their own independence and families while their husbands felt obligated to respond to their mother’s frequent demands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Grandchildren placed her on a pedestal and heeded her advice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unaware of the difficult times in her life, they saw her only as a grand lady of significant importance in whose fine home manners, education and good public appearances were highly valued.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She favored her grandsons and lectured to her granddaughters the importance of finding good husbands – doctors and lawyers were highly recommended.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“It’s just as easy to marry rich as it is to marry poor, so marry rich,”</i> she would say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Doctors and lawyers are numbered throughout the family today, and she would be surprised to know that many of those doctors and lawyers are her <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>grand and great-grandd<u>aughters</u>.</span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">An invitation to dinner was an event.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were certain protocols that were expected.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As always, manners were of the utmost importance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She maintained that manners would take you a long way, which proved to pay off for most of her grandchildren.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You were never allowed to address her as “grandma,” but only “Grandmother.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dinner was announced with the ringing of a bell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one sat down before Grandmother did. Gentlemen always pulled out the seat for the lady on either side of him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Elbows were never seen on a table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone sat up straight – no slumping allowed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Children were to be seen, but rarely heard unless they were having a private dinner with Grandmother in which case, there were deep philosophical discussions with her on how to be successful in life<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Keep your reputations spotless until you turn 21 and then you can do anything you want and no one will believe you did it.”</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She became known for numerous quotes that she shared frequently with wit and charm:</span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">“It ain’t my baby, so I ain’t gonna rock it.”</span></span></i></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";">“What’s the difference between a gum-chewing girl and a cud chewing cow?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The difference?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, I see now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s the intelligent look on the face of the cow.”</span></i><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have never chewed gum in my life because of that quote.</span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">“You can get along on your good looks until you’re 30 and then probably get along on a good personality between 30-60, but after 60, the old lady needs cash.”</span></span></i></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">And when the conversation became too depressing or disheartening she’d<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>simply say with a gentle laugh, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Let’s just go sit on the porch and sing.”</i></span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">Her beautiful camellias, gardenias, and azaleas from her gardens were ever present as floral centerpieces leaving distinctive aromas that became associated with “Grandmother’s house.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A year before she died as she sat in bed suffering from dementia, when she’d hear the doorbell ring she’d<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>frequently ask if someone had put out fresh flowers for the guests.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once as I sat by her bed telling her that a few people would like to speak to her, she sat up straight and leaned over to prompt me, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Now look animated, my dear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Look animated.”</i></span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">Never at a loss for a quick comeback,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and always very private about physical ailments and aches and pains, Stella didn’t have much time for doctors and even less time to listen to people’s personal complaints<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Don’t tell me about the labor, just show me the baby,” </i>was her standard response to grandchildren showing off new babies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She stopped counting or even trying to remember names.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On a visit with my four month old child in 1976 she greeted us as we came in the front door, smiled and patted the baby on the head and then called Blossom, who was back in the kitchen cooking the meal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Blossom, come see this cute child,” </i>she<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>smiled and then added.<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Please put a door between us and him until after lunch,”</i> which Blossom did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lunch was served and we neither saw nor heard our baby again until we got ready to leave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many times since then in the process of raising our family, my husband and I have called out to our fictitious maid in the kitchen, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Blossom – oh Blossom – come quickly and put a door between us and this child.”</i></span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">One evening during her last year of life Stella was taken to the emergency room after a series of small pin strokes during the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As they were admitting her to the hospital, the nurse asked her daughter, Louise, if Mrs. Dabbs had false teeth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Louise was startled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“I don’t know,”</i> she replied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The nurse leaned over and spoke loudly, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Mrs. Dabbs!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mrs. Dabbs!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>DO YOU HAVE FALSE TEETH?” </i></span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stella opened her eyes slowly and glowered at the nurse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“If ignorance is bliss, what fool wants to know?”</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">Eugene W. Dabbs, Jr., and Stella had six children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The five surviving children each had four surviving children (8 males and 12 females).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This family would be the most prolific extension of the Dabbs Family in both numbers and characters and having fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is a fun family. When they are together, they are telling stories and laughing, and at the head of the table in spirit is their grandfather, Eugene W. Dabbs, Jr.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I believe that this is the very special gift that he gave the family and it is regretful that he did not live long enough to see and enjoy his grandchildren, whom he would have adored; so many little girls he would have built <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>fires for<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in the middle of the night when they got cold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are many family reunions, parties, weddings and yes, even funerals, he would have loved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then at the other end of the table sits Grandmother, with a critical eye and slight upturn of the edge of her mouth in a cautious smile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is still guardian of social etiquette and the standard bearer for great expectations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For as EW Dabbs, Sr.,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>said, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Blood will tell, my son. Blood will tell.”</i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text", "serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Everyone of the descendents in this family in their own and unique way could easily have a book written about their lives and the many stories they have to tell. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>Brenda Remmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02463638352253693043noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863106549789453390.post-51394130918062238002008-12-08T06:40:00.000-08:002012-09-10T07:26:42.735-07:00Eugene Whitefield Dabbs, III, Son of EWD, Jr. & Stella<br />
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<i>Eugene Whitefield Dabbs, III and Nell Rees Dabbs</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "High Tower Text","serif";"> <u> <b>Eugene
Whitefield (Gene) Dabbs, III</b></u> (9/24/1917-9/16/2005) was the responsible one. Like his father, he was born and raised at
Dabbs Crossroads, graduated from the Citadel and served in the U.S. Army,
reaching the rank of Lieutenant Colonel. During World War II, he was stationed
in various places, including <st1:country -region="-region" w:st="on">Ireland</st1:country>,
North Africa, and <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country -region="-region" w:st="on">Italy</st1:country></st1:place>.
After the war, he returned home to help his mother with the farm and their
plant nursery. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "High Tower Text","serif";">A voracious reader who loved to
travel, particularly by car, Gene was widely regarded as a master of story
telling. He could engage anyone in thought-provoking conversation, whether it
was about the latest book he had read or a recent adventure. He particularly
enjoyed discussing politics. His
intellect and robust curiosity were offset by his humility, modesty and sense
of service. As a young man, little did he know that a delightful red head,
Mildred Nell Rees, and four rambunctious sons would change his life forever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "High Tower Text","serif";">Nell Rees Dabbs (5/1/1922 –
5/6/2005) befriended Gene’s sister, Louise, at Duke University in Durham, North
Carolina, and through Louise, also came to know two young men by the names of
Jack Bevan and Tommy Dabbs. On a lark, they invited Nell to visit Dabbs
Crossroads for the weekend to meet Gene. Later in life, Nell would describe her
trip “to the country” as highlighted by her simple green dress, which was made
on short notice for the occasion. She admitted that the dress ended up being a
“<i>bit too tight and a bit too short</i>.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "High Tower Text","serif";">Gene and Nell were married six
months later. When Gene was asked when
he fell in love with Nell, he would say, “<i>When
she got off that bus in that short tight green dress, I was in love.” </i>From that point on, Gene became Nell’s
“Hubby,” a nickname that Nell would use for Gene throughout her life with such
frequency that Gene became known as “Hubby” to the rest of the world as well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "High Tower Text","serif";">Gene and Nell built a cottage
across the road from his mother, and it was there that they lived and raised
four boys until 1972, when they moved into <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Sumter</st1:city></st1:place>. Using the training from his studies of
landscape architecture at <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Cornell</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype w:st="on">University</st1:placetype></st1:place>, where he went
after the war, Gene worked in the nursery business with his mother. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "High Tower Text","serif";">On the whole, the landscaping
business sputtered, and Gene was never able to benefit from the boom that
occurred in this field over the following decades. As the boys grew older with the oldest
reaching college age, both Gene and Nell accepted jobs teaching at nearby <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Maywood</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">High School</st1:placetype></st1:place>. Gene taught eighth grade
math for eight years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "High Tower Text","serif";">Pressed by the financial demands
of four children, a languishing nursery business and college costs, Gene decided to re-enter civil engineering, a
profession that he spent some time in after the war. This decision required him to obtain further
education, and at the age of 50, Gene completed his Master’s Degree in
Mathematics at the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placetype w:st="on">University</st1:placetype>
of <st1:placename w:st="on">South Carolina</st1:placename></st1:place> and
passed the rigorous qualifying examination.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "High Tower Text","serif";">Nell, who was usually undaunted
by any of life’s challenges, despised teaching elementary school, where her unruly
students correctly identified her as a pushover. Having obtained a Bachelor of
Arts from <st1:placename w:st="on">Duke</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">University</st1:placetype>
and a Master’s in Psychiatric Social Work from <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Boston</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">University</st1:placetype></st1:place>,
she was able to leave the teaching profession to beg</span><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text","serif"; mso-fareast-language: JA;">i</span><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text","serif";">n a career in Social Work, which
was her calling. As a psychiatric social worker, she used her superb training,
uncommon instinct, and magical disposition to affect positive change in the
lives of many. She worked in that field for the next 30 years, and
distinguished herself in the administration of the Sumter County Council on
Aging.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "High Tower Text","serif";">In their later years, Gene and
Nell became one of the most delightful and loved couples in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Sumter</st1:city></st1:place>. Having endured the “brownish” cottage
for nearly two decades and rearing four sons who had absolutely no regard for
things feminine, Nell acted with purpose to change the color of her life to
pink. In her home and dress, no one could
question that pink was her favorite color, as everything was pink, from the
cotton balls and tissues in the bathroom to her piano. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "High Tower Text","serif";">After Gene and Nell retired, they
were always together. She would be dressed in pink, purple, or lime
green with matching bright sunglasses, of which she had no fewer than 20. Nell was also known for the large flowers
that she wore on the front of her ankle length dresses, and she would arrange
for Gene to dress in coordinating colors with his shirts, ties and socks
matching her dresses. Whenever they walked into a room together, smiles would
be exchanged throughout. Gene use to
laugh, <i>“I look like a damn Easter Egg,” </i>but,
like a good old soldier, he followed the program. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "High Tower Text","serif";">After the children were all gone
Nell and Gene made a habit of eating out every meal. Cole’s, Bojangles or Buster’s for breakfast
and then they developed a pattern of different lunch and dinner restaurants
depending on the day of the week. Nell
was profoundly lighthearted, having fully embraced the philosophical view that
one can overcome sadness with willful positivity. To her, there was never bad
news. She invented “spin” long before political pollsters knew what it was. She would begin every story with the sentence,
<i>“I have the best news . . . . We are sooo lucky.”</i> Her descriptions of life’s misfortunes were
legendary. To this day, many in the
family, when faced with sad news, will remember Nell’s unique view on life and
wonder how she would spin it. <i>“We are soooooo lucky . . . .” </i> Those who had the opportunity to know Gene and
Nell were the luckiest of all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "High Tower Text","serif";"> Preceded
by Nell in death by only four months, Gene would continue as best he could
their daily ritual, although age was quickly getting the better of him. After her death, he would sometimes awaken
and call out for “Nellie,” a habit that is hard to break after over 50 years of
marriage. Not long after Nell’s death,
Gene stopped by his sister’s house, the old home where he had grown up. <i>“I keep
having this dream,”</i> he said. <i>“I’m lying on the floor with people all
around me eating and I’m trying to tell them something, but no one is
listening.</i> <i>What do you think it means?”</i>
Louise had no idea, but passed the conversation on. When she told me I smiled and shrugged, <i>“Who knows?”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "High Tower Text","serif";"> A
week later my husband and I and my mother, Louise, were sitting across from her
brother, Gene, and his son, Rees, at a
local restaurant. <i>“How are you feeling, Gene?”</i>
Mother asked. Gene’s arms were
resting on the table and she took his hands in hers. “<i>Dubious,”</i>
was his reply. He put his head down and
appeared to doze off, something he had been prone to do in the previous weeks.
We continued to scan a menu that we all knew by heart and casually talk. It was several minutes before we realized Gene
was not breathing. It is with some embarrassment that I admit that we
considered whether there was anyway that we could discreetly move the body from
the restaurant to the car without drawing attention to ourselves and disturbing
the other diners. I think that’s a trait inherent in Southerners: a need to keep up appearances and be polite
at all costs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "High Tower Text","serif";"> When
the rescue squad stretched him across the restaurant floor and tried in vain to
revive him, Mother turned to me with tears in her eyes and whispered, <i>“He’s lying on the floor with people all
around him eating. What do you think
he’s trying to tell us?”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "High Tower Text","serif";"> <i>“He’s with his Nellie, now, Mom. He wants us to let it be.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text","serif";"> “Oh,” </span></i><span style="font-family: "High Tower Text","serif";">she wept.<i> “I just wish this had all
happened at the Country Club instead.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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Brenda Remmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02463638352253693043noreply@blogger.com