Search for a Dead Body
and its Middle Name
It had been awhile since I visited any cemetery other than the one in Palmville. Covid-19 had me pretty much anchored in one spot until I got an opportunity to help my friend Joe get his truck back to Minnesota from Iowa. On the way home, Joe and I had stopped in Oelwein, Iowa, to look for the grave of my oldest uncle, Charles D., who is buried in the public cemetery there.
There was never an explanation of Charles’s middle initial, “D”, in any of the family records, including the family bible. I’m speculating that he may have been named Charles David, for Charles's mother, Anna's father, David G. Barnhart of Leitersburg, Maryland, and his father, Charles Clinton Reynolds. Family names have been interwoven throughout this Reynolds family. Charles's next younger brother, David H., was named for both his grandfathers, David Barnhart, and Henry Reynolds.
Likewise, another of Charles's younger brothers, Max, his middle name was Barnhart. Their brother Diebert's first name was their Grandmother Leah Diebert's family name. However, Diebert's twin brother, Guy, my dad, had no middle name whatsoever, but had a childhood moniker of 'Suse' (soose) whose origin, as well as his first name of Guy, was unknown. Strange stuff.
All that the Family Record said was that Charles D., was buried in the Oelwein Public Cemetery, which, upon our arrival in Oelwein, ‘Google’ indicated it didn’t exist.
Having about a little over ten hours left on our 12-hour, almost 600-mile road trip home, I saw Joe grimace at the thought of spending any amount of time, not driving north, looking for an unknown grave site, particularly in a cemetery that didn’t exist.
“There’s a Woodlawn Cemetery, an Oakdale Cemetery, and an Old Catholics Cemetery -- the latter of which pretty much eliminates our futility of looking there,” I said.
“Oakdale Cemetery, it appears, is just a couple blocks away. Let’s make a quick walk-through its oldest part and get back on the road. I’ll come back some other day if we don’t find it in a few minutes.”
Crossing the railroad tracks on 4th Street S.W., on the way to Oakdale, I saw an old weather-beaten wrought iron fence that, although I didn’t see a sign for it, was obviously an old cemetery. I quickly parked along the fence and exited the car hoping to get a jump on the search.
Joe and I separated immediately; he to the west, and me to the east, walking north observing the grave markers many of which, Joe noted aloud, were too weather-worn to read as the graves there were very old. Over a century of sun and water had negatively affected them to be sure, but I had a hunch that we were in the right cemetery to find ‘Uncle Charlie,’ who died in August of 1902.
I was at once impressed by the Civil War Memorial statue of a soldier wearing a cape that was erected in July of 1902. He held a realistically-looking musket rifle and wore a Union cap.
The detail of his clothing and the equipment that hung from his belt were captured wonderfully and though, now quite weathered, looked as though they were once actually functional.
There were a number of Civil War veteran grave markers as well as the tree trunk-styled Woodmen of America headstones.
http://agraveinterest.blogspot.com/2011/06/woodmen-of-world-and-tree-stone-grave.html.
One of the markers indicated a person buried there had been born in 1800 and died in 1824, something rarely seen in any Minnesota cemetery I’ve ever been.
Walking cemeteries, for me, isn’t weird. As in this case, it’s much about interesting history, biography, and culture. Some of the grave markers are grandiose. Some are plain and unassuming slabs of concrete. Others are special made, personally-designed works of art. These are great galleries that are admission-free . . . as long as you live. I’m just taking advantage of a real deal.
Joe and I were in Iowa returning from a trip to Dubuque. He had his practically-new 1994 Ford Ranger repaired there after an unfortunate transmission problem caused he and his wife to abandon the vehicle and continue on to Boston in a rental car, this last August.
Unsure if the truck would make it back to Wannaska in its current state, he asked me to assist him as I’m so good at offering moral support, if nothing else. Joe altered the course home, choosing to go west from Dubuque on US Highway 20, than follow the route from Dubuque through Guttenberg and along the Mississippi River, north.
It was serendipitous that the new northwesterly route passed south of the little Iowa town of Oelwein, Iowa, near where my grandparents Charles C. and Anna L. Reynolds lived on a farm in 1902 with their two young sons, Charles and David. A third son, Joe Paul, was born there in January 1903. The Reynolds lived on a Peter Shugart farm two miles south of Oelwein. I learned that Shugart was a wealthy railroad builder and owned several thousand acres throughout Iowa. Charles got a job on the railroad there.
As it happened, their son Charles, having been born in Hagerstown, Maryland, in 1893, died at Oelwein on August 10th., at the age of nine years, seven months, and three days. A reportedly frail lad, he was allegedly struck by his drunken father after he had tripped over his father’s outstretched legs, and accidently killed by a back-handed blow.
I learned this in 1997, from a much older cousin, whose father was a brother of young Charles. Presumably, all of us descendants had been told that young Charles died of a childhood illness; which, if I think about ‘parental alcoholism and abuse,’ it may well fit that definition.
At some point. Charles Sr., was transferred by the railroad to Des Moines. Whether this was prior or following his tenure with Western Maryland Railroad in Hagerstown, Maryland, I don’t know, but he didn’t work for them long before they moved to Nevada, Iowa, and again started farming.
(See Wannaskan Almanac Thursday entries of July 30, 2020, and August 6, 2020: Parental Rights 1869-1940 Parts 1 & 2 for further information)
In 1905, they moved down to Cambridge, Iowa, where on May 27, 1905, the sixth and seventh sons Guy (my father) and Deibert, as twins, were born. Nellie Elizabeth, their first of four daughters, was born there too, in 1907. Long about 1909, they moved five miles south to a community called White Oak, IA, where Ethel and her middle name, Iowa, were born.
It was at White Oak that Grandma Anna developed heart trouble and dropsy: her diagnosis was she wouldn’t get well, so Charles sold out and took the family back to Hagerstown near where he and Anna were born, and where she wanted to die. They lived there about nine years; where, after Anna ‘miraculously’ recovered from her illness, their third and fourth daughters were born; Mildred Lucille in 1912, and Barbara Ellen in 1917 (dying in infancy).
They moved back to Iowa for good in 1918. Grandma Anna died in Dixon, Illinois, in 1938, at the age of 68; Grandpa Charles died in Des Moines, in 1940, at the age of 71.
Way back in the north end of Oakdale cemetery, against the trunk of an old oak tree (as I recall) stood three or four gravestones without graves, one of the grave stones being of Charles D., son of Charles C. and Anna L. Reynolds. We had found him at last, or should I say, “Joe found him.”
Maybe his aged resting place was among the twisted tree roots of the giant tree that the tombstones rested against, or those of the old trees nearby that provided the magnificent shade overhead that hot August morning, we don’t know, and didn’t have time to search it out; the lost was found -- and so maybe was his middle name.
and its Middle Name
It had been awhile since I visited any cemetery other than the one in Palmville. Covid-19 had me pretty much anchored in one spot until I got an opportunity to help my friend Joe get his truck back to Minnesota from Iowa. On the way home, Joe and I had stopped in Oelwein, Iowa, to look for the grave of my oldest uncle, Charles D., who is buried in the public cemetery there.
There was never an explanation of Charles’s middle initial, “D”, in any of the family records, including the family bible. I’m speculating that he may have been named Charles David, for Charles's mother, Anna's father, David G. Barnhart of Leitersburg, Maryland, and his father, Charles Clinton Reynolds. Family names have been interwoven throughout this Reynolds family. Charles's next younger brother, David H., was named for both his grandfathers, David Barnhart, and Henry Reynolds.
Likewise, another of Charles's younger brothers, Max, his middle name was Barnhart. Their brother Diebert's first name was their Grandmother Leah Diebert's family name. However, Diebert's twin brother, Guy, my dad, had no middle name whatsoever, but had a childhood moniker of 'Suse' (soose) whose origin, as well as his first name of Guy, was unknown. Strange stuff.
All that the Family Record said was that Charles D., was buried in the Oelwein Public Cemetery, which, upon our arrival in Oelwein, ‘Google’ indicated it didn’t exist.
Having about a little over ten hours left on our 12-hour, almost 600-mile road trip home, I saw Joe grimace at the thought of spending any amount of time, not driving north, looking for an unknown grave site, particularly in a cemetery that didn’t exist.
“There’s a Woodlawn Cemetery, an Oakdale Cemetery, and an Old Catholics Cemetery -- the latter of which pretty much eliminates our futility of looking there,” I said.
“Oakdale Cemetery, it appears, is just a couple blocks away. Let’s make a quick walk-through its oldest part and get back on the road. I’ll come back some other day if we don’t find it in a few minutes.”
Crossing the railroad tracks on 4th Street S.W., on the way to Oakdale, I saw an old weather-beaten wrought iron fence that, although I didn’t see a sign for it, was obviously an old cemetery. I quickly parked along the fence and exited the car hoping to get a jump on the search.
Joe and I separated immediately; he to the west, and me to the east, walking north observing the grave markers many of which, Joe noted aloud, were too weather-worn to read as the graves there were very old. Over a century of sun and water had negatively affected them to be sure, but I had a hunch that we were in the right cemetery to find ‘Uncle Charlie,’ who died in August of 1902.
The detail of his clothing and the equipment that hung from his belt were captured wonderfully and though, now quite weathered, looked as though they were once actually functional.
There were a number of Civil War veteran grave markers as well as the tree trunk-styled Woodmen of America headstones.
http://agraveinterest.blogspot.com/2011/06/woodmen-of-world-and-tree-stone-grave.html.
One grave marker was a uniquely made log cabin cast entirely from concrete; I’m not sure of its age or origin. 
One of the markers indicated a person buried there had been born in 1800 and died in 1824, something rarely seen in any Minnesota cemetery I’ve ever been.
Walking cemeteries, for me, isn’t weird. As in this case, it’s much about interesting history, biography, and culture. Some of the grave markers are grandiose. Some are plain and unassuming slabs of concrete. Others are special made, personally-designed works of art. These are great galleries that are admission-free . . . as long as you live. I’m just taking advantage of a real deal.
Joe and I were in Iowa returning from a trip to Dubuque. He had his practically-new 1994 Ford Ranger repaired there after an unfortunate transmission problem caused he and his wife to abandon the vehicle and continue on to Boston in a rental car, this last August.
Unsure if the truck would make it back to Wannaska in its current state, he asked me to assist him as I’m so good at offering moral support, if nothing else. Joe altered the course home, choosing to go west from Dubuque on US Highway 20, than follow the route from Dubuque through Guttenberg and along the Mississippi River, north.
It was serendipitous that the new northwesterly route passed south of the little Iowa town of Oelwein, Iowa, near where my grandparents Charles C. and Anna L. Reynolds lived on a farm in 1902 with their two young sons, Charles and David. A third son, Joe Paul, was born there in January 1903. The Reynolds lived on a Peter Shugart farm two miles south of Oelwein. I learned that Shugart was a wealthy railroad builder and owned several thousand acres throughout Iowa. Charles got a job on the railroad there.
As it happened, their son Charles, having been born in Hagerstown, Maryland, in 1893, died at Oelwein on August 10th., at the age of nine years, seven months, and three days. A reportedly frail lad, he was allegedly struck by his drunken father after he had tripped over his father’s outstretched legs, and accidently killed by a back-handed blow.
I learned this in 1997, from a much older cousin, whose father was a brother of young Charles. Presumably, all of us descendants had been told that young Charles died of a childhood illness; which, if I think about ‘parental alcoholism and abuse,’ it may well fit that definition.
At some point. Charles Sr., was transferred by the railroad to Des Moines. Whether this was prior or following his tenure with Western Maryland Railroad in Hagerstown, Maryland, I don’t know, but he didn’t work for them long before they moved to Nevada, Iowa, and again started farming.
(See Wannaskan Almanac Thursday entries of July 30, 2020, and August 6, 2020: Parental Rights 1869-1940 Parts 1 & 2 for further information)
In 1905, they moved down to Cambridge, Iowa, where on May 27, 1905, the sixth and seventh sons Guy (my father) and Deibert, as twins, were born. Nellie Elizabeth, their first of four daughters, was born there too, in 1907. Long about 1909, they moved five miles south to a community called White Oak, IA, where Ethel and her middle name, Iowa, were born.
It was at White Oak that Grandma Anna developed heart trouble and dropsy: her diagnosis was she wouldn’t get well, so Charles sold out and took the family back to Hagerstown near where he and Anna were born, and where she wanted to die. They lived there about nine years; where, after Anna ‘miraculously’ recovered from her illness, their third and fourth daughters were born; Mildred Lucille in 1912, and Barbara Ellen in 1917 (dying in infancy).
They moved back to Iowa for good in 1918. Grandma Anna died in Dixon, Illinois, in 1938, at the age of 68; Grandpa Charles died in Des Moines, in 1940, at the age of 71.
Way back in the north end of Oakdale cemetery, against the trunk of an old oak tree (as I recall) stood three or four gravestones without graves, one of the grave stones being of Charles D., son of Charles C. and Anna L. Reynolds. We had found him at last, or should I say, “Joe found him.”
Maybe his aged resting place was among the twisted tree roots of the giant tree that the tombstones rested against, or those of the old trees nearby that provided the magnificent shade overhead that hot August morning, we don’t know, and didn’t have time to search it out; the lost was found -- and so maybe was his middle name.
Great story! We need to go cemetery walking in New Orleans some time.
ReplyDelete
ReplyDeleteA jaunt with WW is always an adventure.
I agree with WC. Cemetery walks are worthwhile for many reasons including the opportunity to contemplate the certain end to every living thing. Impermanence and continual change are the orders of the day. I appreciate the many pics you included. Almost felt like you took us on a tour. We all could do worse than chasing down the ghosts of our ancestors. This post is a good reminder of that.
ReplyDeleteIn my hometown (Marshfield, Wisconsin), the cemetery runs parallel on the opposite of the street from a large hospital. I always think it's a piece of dark humor. Speaking of Marshfield, both my parents died within the same year, along with my brother, Paul. All three were cremated. I decided to bury my parents ashes on the airfield at which they had worked most of their lives. Your post brought up that bitter-sweet memory. Thanks for that.