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Authors: Morgan James
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admitting to you, Ms. McNeal, I was fascinated by your inquiry regarding your relative,Mr. January McNeal. Your great grandfather, did you say?”
I nodded, yes.
“It’s been years since I was asked about anything as interesting as a former parishioner. Usually a new pastor or committee chairperson wants to know about business or building issues—the budget in 1976, who donated funds for refurbishing the nursery—that sort of thing. But a chance to research a real person, now that is exciting.”
I nodded again and interjected what I hoped was a small push to get him to the point. “And did you find anything interesting in the church records about my family?”
He reached for a slim file folder on the table and opened it on his lap. “Well, yes I did. Though I’m not at all sure you will be happy with what I found. The event doesn’t seem to recall one of the finest hours of our church. And it may not give you the great grandfather you hoped to find.”
Well, I already knew from my dream that January had stood on the wrong side of the Perry County jail walls. What else could he tell me? “Oh, don’t worry, Mr. Kolb. I really don’t have any preconceived notions about January. Were you able to determine if he and Reba Connell were married here in the Methodist church?”
“Oh, yes,” he replied and handed me a very poor copy of a church ledger. “In 1900, the church was not the present grand sanctuary with its carved doors and stained glass windows of course. Then it was only the small brick building we presently use for staff offices.But the church was well attended, and the members were careful record keepers. Our marriage ledger notes Enid and Joab Sorley were witnesses at the marriage ceremony.”
If I squinted just right, I could read the Sorley’s signatures, and that of the officiating minister, on the ledger page. Mr. Kolb handed me a second page. This copy was even harder to read.
“Granted, it is difficult to decipher the words. However, I’ve had many years of practice reading the old records, so I can tell you what it says. It would appear that the McNeals had a child, a son, Ephraim, who was born in September 1900 and died in March 1901. He was buried in the church cemetery. Another son was born 1902.”
“That would be my grandfather, James. I believe he was born in 1902. I wasn’t aware until recently that another child was born before my grandfather James.”
“Sadly, it would seem so. Not unusual during those times. So many diseases lurked in the water, or came with the hard winters and hot summers. Couldn’t just drive down to the doctor and get a prescription for an antibiotic, now could we?”
January’s voiced echoed from my dream, take the baby and run , he cried out through the jail bars. “Do you know if March 1901 was the time of the great fire that burned most of Fire Mountain?”
“Yes, that does sound right…somewhere just after the turn of the century. Could have been 1901. That little mountain was called Sorley’s Knob before the fire. You’ll see it named that way on most of the old maps.” A look of recognition dawned across his face. “Ah, Isee where you are going. I’m sorry, there doesn’t seem to be a clue as to how the baby died. But if he did die in that fire, that could be a clue as to January’s, shall we say, emotional outbursts alluded to later on in the church records.”
I listened with half an ear to Mr. Kolb and remembered what else January said in the dream. He was screaming something that sounded as though it came from the Old Testament. Rise up oh Israel . Was that what January said? I turned back to Mr. Kolb. “Tell me about the emotional outbursts.”
After a deep breath, and a quick nervous adjustment of his plaid bowtie, Mr. Kolb extracted several sheets of paper from the file and handed them to me. “Look over these as I tell you the story—at least as much of the story as I could glean from the church records. The rest may be
I nodded, yes.
“It’s been years since I was asked about anything as interesting as a former parishioner. Usually a new pastor or committee chairperson wants to know about business or building issues—the budget in 1976, who donated funds for refurbishing the nursery—that sort of thing. But a chance to research a real person, now that is exciting.”
I nodded again and interjected what I hoped was a small push to get him to the point. “And did you find anything interesting in the church records about my family?”
He reached for a slim file folder on the table and opened it on his lap. “Well, yes I did. Though I’m not at all sure you will be happy with what I found. The event doesn’t seem to recall one of the finest hours of our church. And it may not give you the great grandfather you hoped to find.”
Well, I already knew from my dream that January had stood on the wrong side of the Perry County jail walls. What else could he tell me? “Oh, don’t worry, Mr. Kolb. I really don’t have any preconceived notions about January. Were you able to determine if he and Reba Connell were married here in the Methodist church?”
“Oh, yes,” he replied and handed me a very poor copy of a church ledger. “In 1900, the church was not the present grand sanctuary with its carved doors and stained glass windows of course. Then it was only the small brick building we presently use for staff offices.But the church was well attended, and the members were careful record keepers. Our marriage ledger notes Enid and Joab Sorley were witnesses at the marriage ceremony.”
If I squinted just right, I could read the Sorley’s signatures, and that of the officiating minister, on the ledger page. Mr. Kolb handed me a second page. This copy was even harder to read.
“Granted, it is difficult to decipher the words. However, I’ve had many years of practice reading the old records, so I can tell you what it says. It would appear that the McNeals had a child, a son, Ephraim, who was born in September 1900 and died in March 1901. He was buried in the church cemetery. Another son was born 1902.”
“That would be my grandfather, James. I believe he was born in 1902. I wasn’t aware until recently that another child was born before my grandfather James.”
“Sadly, it would seem so. Not unusual during those times. So many diseases lurked in the water, or came with the hard winters and hot summers. Couldn’t just drive down to the doctor and get a prescription for an antibiotic, now could we?”
January’s voiced echoed from my dream, take the baby and run , he cried out through the jail bars. “Do you know if March 1901 was the time of the great fire that burned most of Fire Mountain?”
“Yes, that does sound right…somewhere just after the turn of the century. Could have been 1901. That little mountain was called Sorley’s Knob before the fire. You’ll see it named that way on most of the old maps.” A look of recognition dawned across his face. “Ah, Isee where you are going. I’m sorry, there doesn’t seem to be a clue as to how the baby died. But if he did die in that fire, that could be a clue as to January’s, shall we say, emotional outbursts alluded to later on in the church records.”
I listened with half an ear to Mr. Kolb and remembered what else January said in the dream. He was screaming something that sounded as though it came from the Old Testament. Rise up oh Israel . Was that what January said? I turned back to Mr. Kolb. “Tell me about the emotional outbursts.”
After a deep breath, and a quick nervous adjustment of his plaid bowtie, Mr. Kolb extracted several sheets of paper from the file and handed them to me. “Look over these as I tell you the story—at least as much of the story as I could glean from the church records. The rest may be
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