The Record Keepers

By James Cary

Introduction

Driving along the country road we stopped by the Nottoway River that Elphinston was sure to have traveled with his loaded barge of tobacco, ready for the warehouse.  It must have been an exciting time, the Revolutionary War was forthcoming and the people were splintered in their devotion to king and country.

Looking down I could see bone fragments and what looked like vertebrae of a human spinal cord.  Melissa thought it may be an animal that died at the flash of a hunter’s gun, but we could not be certain.

“When we get back I’ll call the sheriff”.

The next morning I contacted the police for Southampton County and told them our story, I gave them my cellular phone number to call if they wanted me to meet them at the site.

I wanted to see the place where my ancestors had once walked, to feel the ground and smell the air that was once the extinct County of Nansemond Virginia, I was not disappointed.  Months of planning, reserving airplane tickets and hotels, printing maps and getting a shopping list of sites I wanted to visit and documents I wanted to research.  I knew it would not be an easy task given that Elphinston was born 1745 in Virginia and that war and other calamities had destroyed much of the records, of our heritage. 

We started our trip from Ojai California.  My wife Melissa and I raised our two children in Ojai, we devoted our time towards providing a good family life, and a happy home; although happiness is sometimes overstated. 

With our tickets in hand and suitcases passed on to a stranger behind the ticket counter, we boarded our airplane for the first leg of our trip to Orlando Florida. 

The plane was full and it was a long four hours to our first stop in Nashville Tennessee. I tried to relax and read my book that I purchased specifically for the trip but for some reason my mind kept going back to the hijacking of the airplanes that slammed into the World Trade Center.  I wonder if there are any terrorist on this flight?  I was ready to pounce on the first person that stood up with a box cutter in their hands.

A quick dinner in the terminal and we made it to the gate for our next leg to Orlando. We had plenty of time and I wanted to make sure we were within the first thirty people to board so we could sit together.  If you fly the discount airlines, you probably already know what airline I’m referring to. Number 26 and 27 we were set and rightfully so because it was another full flight.  Not trying to look like an amateur we wait for the flight announcement to let us know that boarding is to begin with numbers 1-30.

A couple ahead of us was of the Muslim faith, the woman covered her head and wore a long garment that almost touched the floor, and the man was well dressed and courteous.  I could have bet my life savings on the fact that they would be asked to step out of line so they could be searched, unfortunately so was Melissa and myself. We ended up riding backwards in our seats from Tennessee to Orlando.

Disney World, Orlando Florida

Orlando was hot and muggy with temperatures in the high 80s. This was my bribe to get Melissa to fly though three time zones and endure senseless conversations on the airplane. She’s a sucker for fairy tales and would have flown to Euro Disney if she could score a sleeping beauty scene inside a glass ball filled with water. Melissa is a serious Disney fan and has an extensive collection of Disney memorabilia.  

Here’s Melissa at the Swiss Family Robinson’s tree house, or do they call it Tarzans house now?

Our hotel at Disney World was reminiscent of a Yellowstone mountain lodge that would have been the envy of Yogi and Boo-boo. A simulated mountain spring started in the lobby of the hotel and made its way outside then down to the pool. It even had a geyser that erupted every hour until 10 PM when the geothermal gods went to sleep.

Our room was on the sixth floor and overlooked the woods and part of the lake.  In the lobby is a fireplace with a stack that extended to the ceiling that must have been eighty feet high. The whole place was built to look as if one was inside a log cabin, however with a close look you could see that they were concrete post, replicated like logs; Melissa hates it when I’m so pragmatic.

Four days and two thousand dollars later we were ready to get on the road to Jacksonville.   I called room service and asked for the bellman to come pick up our luggage. The bellman was a young man with a friendly smile and lots of conversation, our car was waiting for us as we walked out the front door and the luggage was already in the trunk.

I pulled out of my pocket two dollars and at the same time began to ask the bellman directions to the interstate. Not giving much thought to what I was doing but more on what he was saying; I handed him two dollars. Just at that time he was at the most critical part of these rather animated well-orchestrated directions he looked at the two dollars and stopped in mid sentence, turned and walked away.

But wait I said; “How do I get to the interstate”? 

Finally we make it to the interstate to begin our three-hour drive to Jacksonville. As were driving I tell Melissa the story about the bellman and she gives me the same look of discuss that that bellman did.

Two dollars! She says with the tone of traffic court judge.

Are we staying in Jacksonville?

Yes I said, fairly close to the library where I want to do some research on my grandfather.

Is it a good area?

Oh yes! It’s a very nice hotel. 

Jacksonville, Florida

As we exit the off ramp I was holding my breath expecting the worse but hoping for the best. I had no idea of what the area was like and had never set eyes on the hotel.  Jacksonville is a very old but beautiful city with a rich history and some buildings that have seen better days.  Residential neighborhoods with Victorian homes that were very expensive when they were first built and a few that were restored to their magnificence of the era. 

My grandfather and grandmother came to Jacksonville sometime between 1916 and 1920 when they were listed in the 1920 Florida census with no children. I think this move was a much-needed change for James and Bessie for they had lost their first son James Guy Cary Junior when he was only two years old December 6, 1915 Taliaferro County Georgia. They would not have another child until 1923 when James D. Cary was born; he would be their only surviving child. 

I have a feeling that my grandfather and I would have gotten along well although he died before I was born. He was a motivated person such as myself and seemed to enjoy his career and family.  He was a man of God and probably had a sense of himself although I think he may have been over ambitious when it came to politics. He ran for Congress three times and lost each attempt.

Wrong turn I said to myself as we drove down a street that was a mixture of old homes and commercial establishments; well at least I won’t have to deal with some snooty bellman. 

Soon the area started to improve and we came to our hotel, it was a five-story building and looked very secure. Melissa had a look of relief on her face as we pulled up to the entrance. 

We checked into our room and then made our way to the library in downtown Jacksonville.  Pulling out my map that I printed before our trip began I found the address that we were looking for, but where do we park? 

With the skill of a New York taxi driver I found a metered spot right in front of the library. As I pull ahead of the spot a little old lady in a white sedan pulls up behind me.

Doesn’t she know I’m going to parallel park?

If she thinks I’m going to go forward and let her have this coveted parking spot she’s sorely mistaken, I’ll wait until hell freezes over.

I turn my head back towards her and smile as if she was my best friend; she smiles back and proceeds to go around me with a little wave as she passes.  I maneuver my vehicle in the spot and get ready for hours of research in the library.

What! One hour! That’s all this meter will go to is one hour. I look up and see a sign that indicates parking is for one hour between 8-4 Monday through Friday.  I decided to find a different place and not risk the chance of getting a parking ticket, although I was indignant about this spot which I fought off the senior citizen. Around the block we go again and this time I see a spot in what looks like a vacant lot with cars parked on it and realize that this isn’t as bad as I thought.

The man at the front desk of the library entrance looks up from his computer screen and looks down again and asked me if he can help me?

I’m looking for Barbara Chrisman?

Without looking at me he says; does she work here?

Yes! You see I’m from California and I’m out here doing research on my grandfather for my genealogy. I met Barbara on the internet and asked her if she wouldn’t mind looking up my grandfathers obituary and she was nice enough to find it for me and so I have a box of chocolates that I bought in Orlando to give her, do you know where I can find her? 

Does she work here? 

Yes! I said, realizing he didn’t here a word I just said.

Take the elevator to the third floor and talk to personnel.

Thank you.

Hi I’m looking for Barbara Chrisman, the man at the front desk asked me to ask you if you knew where I could find her. 

The young lady asked; does she work here?

Yes, she doe’s I replied, sounding a little perturbed.

I don’t know of anyone by that name but you might try security; down the hall and to your left she said. 

Feeling like the invisible man I preceded to security to find the elusive Barbara Chrisman, but the door was locked and no one was answering my knocks; perhaps the lady in personnel told them I was coming. 

Back to the front desk and Melissa who was waiting in the foyer while I hunted down Barbara. 

Can you tell me where the obituaries can be found?

Basement replies the man at the desk. 

Thank you how do I get there?

Take the blue elevator down.

Let’s just go and find the obituary our self I said to Melissa, thinking that Barbara Chrisman was a figment of my imagination. With the help of a Librarian we were able to find the information we were looking for and much more.

We decided to call it a day and went back to the main level when I saw a sign that said genealogy; maybe Barbara is in there? 

Yes! Barbara does work here said the gentleman working in the section, you just missed her, are you the gentleman coming up from Orlando? She was waiting for you. 

Here! I said please give her these chocolates and tell her thank you.

The man outside in the parking lot was putting white slips on the windows of cars, including my rental car.

Five dollar citation! what is this for?  I asked in annoyance.

You parked in a staff parking lot; said the man. 

What! I don’t see any signs that say staff parking?

It’s on the other side of the lot; he replied.

But I pulled in though this driveway, not that one, where is the sign for this side?

He points over to the ground in front of the entrance where a flat metal sign was sitting face down and proceeds to tell me that the sign was up on the post where he points, but was knocked down some months ago by kids. He then shrugged his shoulders and walked away. 

Where can I park legally? I shouted, following him as he was walking. 

Over there; he pointed to the lot across the street.

How much does it cost? 

Five dollars; he replied.

The next morning we parked in the five-dollar lot and started towards the metal box that had slots to push the money into. A man driving in an old battered car pulls up and says “five dollars”.  Wait a minute I though how do I know you are the one I pay the money to? Sensing my reluctance he pulled a plastic looking badge from around his neck, and quickly shows me his ID; as if I can speed-read from six feet away. OK! I said; do you have change for a twenty?

We went back into the library but this time to the Genealogy section. I found the census information on James and Bessie and old address books that included their names dating back to 1918 when he and Bessie are listed in the city directory as a commercial traveler, i.e. salesman  

James was a leather salesman for furniture manufactures. He would eventually become vice president of Rigdell Furniture Company; as he is listed in the 1930 Jacksonville City directory. His career somehow took him into politics where he would run for Congress after serving six years as a county commissioner for Duval County.  Their home at 225 E. 7^th street has been restored by the current occupants and looks to be very much enjoyed. 

James was a 33-degree Mason and has this symbol proudly displayed on his tombstone. His obituary indicates that he was a member of the Morocco temple, ancient Arabic order nobles of the mystic shine; Masons and the Elks club.

Bessie was fifty-one years of age when her husband died; she outlived him by thirty-three years and did not remarry. When James died Bessie moved into a smaller house at 375 Duray Court where she lived out the remainder of her life. 

I did not know my grandmother very well; we lived a continent apart. I grew up in California and she would spend her life on the East Coast. I was able to meet with her once in 1974 when I was stationed in Norfolk Virginia.  Melissa and I took a trip to Jacksonville to visit but it was difficult for us to get to know each other in such a short time. She was elderly and set in her ways and I was a young man that didn’t quite understand her Southern Baptist upbringing.  We were strangers that had the same genes, but not the opportunity to bond. I was never to see Bessie again; she died a few years later. I regret that I did not take the time to get to know her better, but at the time, I didn’t feel the urgency to do so. She wrote me a letter with somewhat of an apology for our awkward visit, however I did not respond.

Jacksonville airport is north of the city and is fairly new or least the terminal is. I followed the directions to the car rental return and we made our way into the terminal for our hour flight to Norfolk Virginia.  Standing at the check in counter a young father in front of us was in the process of getting his family cleared for their flight. His young son of five year or so was making his way to his dad and grabbed his legs from behind and stuck his face between his father’s buttocks. The young boy stepped back a few feet, and at the top of his voice says “you stink”.

Everyone who witnessed this was having a hard time containing their laughter, including the mother of the young lad who was sitting on a bench a few feet away. The father a little red faced but with a grin on his face told his son not to say that. This only provoked the boy who was looking for attention to continue his response, “you stink, you stink”…  The boy’s father would have to suffer the humility until his son found something else to do.

We were asked to take our baggage to an area where a small table stood. Eventually a man approached and ask for us to put our baggage on the table as he swabbed the handles for traces of explosives, just a precaution I though, better to be safe than sorry.  I was beginning to think that they must have it in for Californians.

Norfolk, Virginia

Arriving at the airport in Norfolk the aircraft flies over the Chesapeake Bay and enters the City.  This was a particularly beautiful day so the view was spectacular.  The expanse of the bay is incredible; I can understand why it was chosen for the first successful settlement by the colonist from England.

We make our way to the car rental counter and then the shuttle to where our rental car is parked.  Again I refer to my book of maps that I printed prior to our trip.  I am not a stranger to Norfolk, I spend two years here when I was in the Navy but that was twenty five years ago, so finding my way was not as easy as I had hoped.  The hotel was near the airport and we spent a much-needed night resting for our adventure the next day.

The following morning we were on our way to Richmond to spend some time at the Library of Virginia, but first we wanted to go by the old neighborhood that Melissa and I lived some years back. 

We lived in a two story Victorian home that had been turned into a duplex. The upstairs was our domain and always had good neighbors below us. Our memories were of a house that was in a nice middle class neighborhood, we felt safe. The house rented for $125 dollars a month (furnished) which was a lot of money to us at the time. My take home pay in the Navy was somewhere around $480 dollars a month. Melissa had to take on a job to pay for the additional expenses of a small family. 

Ms. Brown our next door neighbor lived in her house all her life. Her parents raised her there and she had a fondness for the area. She was a spinster with a meticulously kept home; she spent her spare time working in her yard.

Mr. & Mrs. Grandy lived across the street and had a small home that they lived in for many years. Mrs. Grandy would watch our young son when one of us could not be home. Mr. Grandy was retired and spent his time in front of the TV while chewing tobacco.  They lived on a limited income but she would always find the money to buy something for our son Jason, whom they adored.

As we drove thru the neighborhood we could not have been more shocked at the condition. Mrs. Browns home had trash strewn about and looked to have multi tenants.  A young man in gang attire crawled out the window of the first floor and proceeded down the street.  The house we lived in was just as bad and looked to have several persons living in it based upon the vehicles that were parked around it.  The home of Mrs. Grandy seemed to be in the best shape of all of them but now had an apartment building in the back of it.   

Where once there was a middle class neighborhood, now was blight and poverty; what were the city planners thinking?

Richmond

The drive to Richmond was beautiful with tree lined highways and historic locations everywhere. We crossed the James River and proceeded along the waters edge and then inland to the city.  Richmond is a city that could be the poster child for Norfolk, the city planners have a vision of what brings people to the city and much work is being done to renovate historic buildings.

Carytown, named after Archibald Cary of Pearltree Hall is one of these areas. Buildings painted in bright Victorian colors with shops and restaurants of every type. Homes that were built around the turn of the century stood with grace and pride that makes a neighborhood a desirable place to live.

Our hotel was directly across the street from the Capital building and the park that surrounds it. We only used our rental car on the last day we were there; most of the city is within walking distance including the Library of Virginia.

The Library of Virginia is an amazing building with an entrance that has a grand staircase as the focal point. The upper floors seem to blend in with the bookshelf’s that extend to the adjoining glass wall and into the main hall.

The genealogy section of the library is second to none with information that dates back to the early days of this country. 

Two blocks from the hotel is Cary St. This is an area that used to be a market place for the tobacco growers. The James River is at the end of the street and old tobacco warehouses line the avenue for the benefit of the ships that once sailed up the river. Tobacco was the standard for which things were bought and sold in the colonial period. Taxes were paid with tobacco, church ministers were paid with tobacco, and it was the driving force of the economy.

That evening we ate at a restaurant (photo above) that was a converted tobacco storehouse called the Tobacco house. (For obvious reasons) It has an old cage type elevator that traveled up three stories of dinning areas. The center of the building is an atrium that could be enjoyed by just about everyone in the restaurant. I highly recommend it if you get to Richmond.

I could have spent the rest of my time in Richmond but we were meeting my cousin and her husband the next day so we made our way back to the coast. 

Suffolk

Elizabeth Allen (Cary) Cloys A.K.A. Betsy and her husband Thomas Cloys were waiting for us at the hotel. The prospect of meeting my cousin for the fist time was exciting and anxious.  Betsy and I had only corresponded by email, but I was eager to see them both. Tom and Betsy both enjoy genealogy. Tom has a rich history and is a member of the SAR. (Sons of the American Revolution) Most of the genealogical information that I have was given to be by these two very gracious people.  I owe them allot of gratitude.

When William Watson Cary died, (Betsy’s grandfather) he had a list of his ancestors in a note book that he copied from what we assumed to be a family Bible. He wrote down names, birth dates, marriage dates, and locations for every male Cary back to Elphinston Cary 1745-1820. Without this information it would have been almost impossible to find corroborating documents for these ancestors.  According to Betsy; her grandfather and my grandfather did extensive research on the Cary family. Unfortunately my grandfather’s information was lost; the location of the bible is also unknown.

Tom and Betsy were extremely pleasant; they had southern hospitality and an accent to match. They invited us into their room and we talked about genealogy until we could not keep our eyes open. The next morning we set off for Newport News and Warwick where the Huntington Library and the tomb of Mylles Cary.

The Huntington library is where Elizabeth and Tom found a book called the Virginia Cary’s by Fairfax Harrison.  It mentions Elphinston Cary along with other Cary’s of the area around Southampton Virginia.

Mylles Cary immigrated to Virginia from England around 1645. He was a man of some prominence in the colonial period and had three very large plantations along the influence of the James River.  It is a miracle that his tomb still exists today although it is rebuilt from the remains that were found at the turn of the 19^th century.  A marker along Deinby Boulevard indicates where the plantation once stood.  A church stands at the corner where the marker is and houses are along the street leading up to the location of his tomb.  At the very end of the street a small farm house stands with several outbuilding and they adjoin a rather large field that leads down to the river on two sides.

I crossed under an electric fence and held the wire up with a stick so that Melissa could follow. We were now in the back yard of a stately home that stood several hundred feet from the river. Black rod iron surrounded the brick tomb with a concrete lid. The brick as I understand it once housed the tomb but had fallen to decay.  I felt in awe to be able to see something that was some 100 years older than this country; before we won our freedom from England.

My genealogy work in Virginia has been towards making some type of connection with Mylles Cary. It seems that it is likely we would be related given the close proximity, but so far the documentation is not available to substantiate this theory. 

Is this the great, great, great grandfather of Elphinston Cary I wondered?  Perhaps someday DNA analysis will be able to answer this question.

Tom and Betsy had to get back to Georgia. We ate breakfast together that morning and wished them a safe journey back home. Their visit was the highlight of our trip.

Courtland, Southampton

Courtland sits adjacent to the Nottoway River and was probably a center of commerce for tobacco farmers in its early days.  It is a quaint country town with a sense of history that is outstanding when you drive down the main street. In the middle of town, adjacent to the City Hall is the Saint Luke’s Chapel and Nottoway Parish established 1734. 

The city is also host to the Walter Cecil Rawls library and Museum.  The genealogy section of this library is small but pertinent to the area.  The city has a strong sense of history and a rather large monument stands next to the city hall in a park like setting. It is a tribute to those served in the military.

Our adventure was not without visiting some cemeteries in the area.  I was not sure if I would find any Cary’s buried in any of them but it was a solemn experience to see the names of families that had a familiar ring; such as Darden, Hart, Williams and others that are listed in the Vestry Book of the Upper Parish 1743-1793. These people were probably the ancestors or slaves of the persons who lived in the 1700s.  One small plot in a farmer’s field had been in a state of neglect for many years with the tops of the tombs collapsed and the farmers plow within feet of the area where these long forgotten people were buried.  

We found a spot along the Nottoway River where we could park our car and walk down to the riverbank. Dense shrubs and trees with few areas that allow for recreation surround the river.  As we were walking down the path we spotted what looked like bone fragments. With the fervor of an archeologist, Melissa took a stick and started to dig where the bones were half way out of the ground.

I don’t know for sure but these vertebrae look to be big enough to be human. 

Melissa shrugged her shoulders with a sense of disbelief. 

I’ll call the local authorities when we get back to our hotel; I said. 

As we were walking back to our car I noticed something crawling on my arm; a tick I said to Melissa. Needless to say the area was full of them and we had plowed our way through several shrubs to get to the river.  Whose idea was this anyway?

The following morning I contacted the Sheriff for Southampton told them what we found and gave them my cellular phone number. We weren’t sure if anyone really cared enough to bother but I felt I was doing my part by reporting the find. 

Following some back country roads we came upon a road that caught my interest. Nottoway Chapel road the sign said.  Nottoway Chapel is the chapel built on the lands of James Cary of Nottoway 1756. I had no illusions that this was the same building but perhaps it was rebuilt in the same spot. After all we were fairly close to the Nottoway River and Courtland was just ten miles to the west as a crow flies. Could this be the place?

We turned onto the road and followed it to the end where a lone house was standing.  The house was old perhaps built at the turn of the 19^th century but it couldn’t be two hundred and fifty years old; could it? 

Mr. West answered the door, he was an older gentleman probably in his eighties, his face had the look of someone who had worked the land and knew the areas history. I explained to him that I was on a quest to find the lands that my ancestors once farmed and if he knew where the Nottoway Chapel was located?  Mr. West said it was back where I turned off the main road onto Nottoway Chapel road. He began to tell me that the chapel was now a private residence and the people who owned it told him that it was a historical landmark. 

We returned to the intersection of the two roads and it was obvious that this was a church at one time. Across the street was a small cemetery with some unmarked graves. We read all the grave markers that were still in place but no Cary’s. No one was home except an excessively barking dog, so we couldn’t get any further information.

The cell phone rang and it was the Sheriff.

Mr. Cary; can you meet me at the location where you spotted the bones?  

I explained to him approximately where we were at and that we could meet him at the intersections of two roads close to where we spotted the bones. 

This was all getting very uncomfortable I thought to myself. What if they think that we were somehow an accessory to some crime, what have I gotten myself into? Our plane was leaving the next day and they may request that we stay for some type of investigation.  I was getting nervous about meeting the officer. 

We pulled up to the intersection that the officer referred to as checkerboard. I got out of my car and introduced myself to the officer. He was a young guy in his early twenties and very nice in his manner. I took him to the spot where the bones were and warned him about the ticks. 

That’s funny they look a lot smaller that they did yesterday; I hope I didn’t take you away from anything important.

The officer looked at the bones and said it was probably a deer. I’m sure he was asking himself why these Californians have to come here to find their roots.

Back to the hotel and our last night in Virginia, frankly I was glad we were leaving. Melissa’s mother was in the hospital and Melissa wanted to get home, so we skipped our stop in New Orleans and flew directly to LA. 

Back home

Since our trip I have found several more ancestors through census and other resources.  There are some who would think that looking up dead people is a waste of time, but for me it’s an adventure to identify those who came before me, to try and get a glimpse of their daily lives. 

Life is fleeting and most of us will be a forgotten name on a document, only important to those who are dedicated to keeping a family history. None of my ancestors were people of fame or notoriety, however they lived history. Revolutionary and Civil War Veterans, these men and women that settled onto undeveloped land and helped in their own small way to form this great nation.  I have to ask myself; will I be remembered though my descendants, will they care?  Who will be The Record Keepers?