Today I present the second history video here on Jordan’s Journey. The first video, Suttle’s Mill, was just a short teaser to get things started. This new video, Concord Road, takes the concept a bit further.

Concord Road is one of the smaller roads in the East Armuchee valley. It’s not a main thruway and most of the road has never been paved. My Pope family ancestors lived along this road—and some of the other Pope descendants still do today. The video above should give you a good idea of what things are like in the Armuchee Valley. There’s probably a lot more history surrounding Concord Road than I know about, but this is just one part of my effort to preserve the history of the area (and not just my specific family lines). As always, if you have any interesting tidbits please let me know.

Take special notice of the music in this piece. I asked my friend Michael Harren to compose some music for my Jordan’s Journey videos using Sacred Harp as a creative springboard. His score for this piece more than exceeded my expectations. The music is forward thinking yet explores the past in such an interesting and creative way–which is exactly what Jordan’s Journey is about.

A special thanks goes out to Tammy Bartlett and Christy Bartlett for their assistance in making this video. You were a lovely crew to work with!

What kind of videos would you like to see in the future? I want to continue documenting the history in this way so hit me up in the comments below and let me know what you would like to see. And if you have any old video footage of Villanow, Subligna, or anywhere in the area, please get in touch as well.

James Young Foster (a descendant of the Young family) connects into my tree through his second wife, Margaret Mell Lawrence (my 1st cousin 5 times removed through the Lawrence family line). James fought in the Civil War in Georgia’s 1st Cavalry Regiment, Company F (National Cem.; National Park). Captured as a prisoner of war, he died in Fort Delaware and is buried in Finns Point National Cemetery in New Jersey. James left behind two daughters, Nancy Mell Foster and Frances Isabell Foster, who Margaret raised. Both of these daughters married into the White family, a prominent family in the Villanow and Sublgina area that connects many different family branches.

[UPDATE 17 May 2012: It was noted by a reader of the site that I did not mention the children of James Young Foster's first marriage. While not within the scope of this post, you can check out where his first wife, Martha Wade Booker, and their children are listed.]

My 2nd great grand uncle Moses Gresham Scoggins is also buried at Finns Point. Moses fought in Georgia’s 9th Infantry Regiment, Company B, and was a prisoner of war at Fort Delaware (National Cem.; National Park). Moses had never married and therefore did not leave behind a wife or children. His line of descendancy continues only through his brothers (one of which is my 2nd great grandfather, James Harvey Scoggins).

Both sodliers, Foster and Scoggins, are listed on the Confederate memorial at Finns Point. Moses also has a comemorative stone in the Chapman family cemetery in West Armuchee.

I visited Finns Point in October 2011. The photos in this post are from that visit. The obelisk is dedicated to the Confederate dead. Bronze tablets surround the base and list the names of the over 2,000 Confederate prisoners who died at Fort Delaware. The gazebo-style monument is in memory of the Union guards who also died at Fort Delaware.

For the trivia buffs out there, what connection does Finns Point have to the great designer Gianni Versace? You can dig up the answer at Find A Grave…

SOURCES

National Park Service. U.S. Civil War Soldiers, 1861-1865 [database on-line]. Provo, UT, USA: Ancestry.com Operations Inc, 2007.

National Cemetery Administration. U.S. Veterans Gravesites, ca.1775-2006 [database on-line]. Provo, UT, USA: Ancestry.com Operations Inc, 2006.

In the late 19th and early 20th century there were numerous schools scattered about the Armuchee and Dirt Town Valley regions. Today not even one of them remains. Gradually, one by one, they were all consolidated and now everyone travels to the larger towns for school.

I have relatively little knowledge about the small schools that dotted the Armuchee Valley (and know even less about the schools of Dirt Town Valley).  But I intend to uncover as much as I can and will share my findings here at Jordan’s Journey. Therefore, this post represents the first of what will be an ongoing “School Days” series that will showcase various photos and any other information I can rustle up. If you have anything to contribute, please get in touch. I am eager to document this almost-forgotten part of our past.

First up is a class photo from Subligna School in Chattooga County, Georgia (click to enlarge). My grandfather Harold Wallace Scoggins (1924-2000) is the boy in the lower left corner (first boy on the front row). The photo was taken in front of the school building. By my estimation, judging by Harold’s approximate age here, this would have been taken in the mid-1930′s. Harold later graduated high school from Subligna in 1941.

I do not know the identifies of any of the other children in this photograph. They appear to be about the same age as Harold and therefore all probably in the same class. If you are able to identify anyone or have any other information to share about Subligna School, please leave a comment below to get in touch.

You can read more about Subligna School and the community at large in the chapter on Subligna in Jordan’s Journey. As always you can subscribe to this blog via email or RSS.

If you were to ask me what are the most important things to me, music would certainly be one of the top items on that list. Looking back as far back as I can remember music has always played an important role in my life. If you’ve been reading this blog, you know music has even played its part in my family history research.

Not long ago I asked my mother, “Do you think you have any audio tapes of music from East Armuchee back in the day?”

“No,” she responded. “I don’t think we ever recorded anything like that.”

I was dissapointed but told her to ask around to see if anyone might have a recording. I wanted more than anything to redisocver the sound of that rural country church from my childhood. She didn’t think anyone would have anything, though.

I have so many music memories from that church. It wasn’t a particularly learned environment for music. There were no professional musicains and no formal choir… just like scared harp. It was a “do-it-yourself” sort of aesthetic, and I think that influenced me a lot in life in ways far beyond music.

For most of my childhood East Armuchee used the Christian Praise hymnal, published in 1964 by Broadman Press (click image above to see). Christian Praise is a shaped note hymnal and relates to the Sacred Harp in that way. But out of 471 pieces it contains only a couple of songs actually from The Sacred Harp hymanl. We always referred to this book as “the red hymnal.” These books contain book plates in the front indicating who donated money for that hymnal, and to whose memory it was dedicated.

There was an older book, The Broadman Hymnal, that had been used by earlier generations. I don’t know exactly when the church first adopted this book but it was published in 1940 by Broadman Press. It would be interesting to know what hymnal (if they even had one) the congregation used before Broadman. When I was a youngster the church still had copies of this “green hymnal” and used them occasionally. It contained certain favorites of the congregation that weren’t in the red one.

By the time I was an older teenager we had moved on to yet a third hymnal, Baptist Hymanl (Convention Pres, 1975). These “white hymnals” were hand-me-downs from Grove Level Baptist Church in Whitfield County by way of another church in Murray County. Like the green and red hymnals before it, the white hymnal was a mixutre of traditional music, contemporary hymns, and praise songs. Some of these pieces in particular reflect the era with songs less rooted in scriptural theology and more influenced by emotion and popular song. I remember pieces such as “Pass It On” by Kurt Kaiser and “Because He Lives” by Bill Gaither from this hymnal.

But today, when it comes to hymns, I prefer Sacred Harp music for its interesting character, noted as much for its unique performance practices as for the music itself. Growing up in a rural country church left its mark on me in more ways than one. The church’s use of music as a reflection of religious yearning has impacted me ever since, imploring me to explore the past and look towards the future with a curious mind. As a child I may have thought the music was lame and boring. But the memory of hearing it Sunday after Sunday for years on end now fills me with an appreciation for the past. By tracing the lineage of East Armuchee’s hymnals, I feel connected to my ancestors who worshiped there. Music, too, was no doubt important to them.

I close my eyes and imagine myself hanging in the rafters of the old church building, the timbre of ancestor’s voices echoing across the valley. The music is more than a worshipful tune: it is the joy of the present moment… for that moment is all we ever have.

Today is the 147th anniversary of Abraham Lincoln’s assassination. Earlier this year I explored the connection between my Rambo family and the Lincoln family. Today I’m not looking at Lincoln directly but, rather, at a few photos related to him.

The first and last shots above are from the collection of my grandmother, Dot Holcomb Scoggins. Taken in 1951 during a family road trip, it’s interesting to see shots of Washington, D.C. over half a century ago. They were taken from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial looking across the Reflecting Pool towards the Washington Monument. The first photo also shows my grandfather, Harold Scoggins.

For good measure I have also included one of my own photos from Oct 2011. I visited the National World War II Memorial which stands at the opposite end of the reflecting pool from the Lincoln memorial. This memorial, of course, did not exist in the 1951 photos as it was not constructed until 2004. You can see the Lincoln Memorial in the background on the left hand side of the image. Harold was a Military Policeman in the 66th Infantry Division (also known as the Black Panthers) during the war so this memorial serves in memory of him along with the countless other men who fought in that conflict.

Watch for more old photos as well as more of my own photography in upcoming posts on Jordan’s Journey. As always, you can subscribe via RSS or email.

Progress, far from consisting in change, depends on retentiveness. When change is absolute there remains no being to improve and no direction is set for possible improvement: and when experience is not retained, as among savages, infancy is perpetual. Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.

–George Santayana, The Life of Reason, Volume 1, 1905
US (Spanish-born) philosopher (1863 – 1952)

Today I’m going to try something a little different here on Jordan’s Journey. Rather than write about people and places, interesting connections, or even tell you about my research and resources (like last week)… I’m going to explore a bit of the memoir side of this project. Certainly the Jordan’s Journey book has elements of memoir weaved in throughout the text. In the book, though, those very personal elements always serve the overall genealogical story. Here on the blog there’s room to branch out a bit.

I’ve talked a little before about about the difference between my homeland and the city I now call home. This urban versus rural dichotomy is constantly evident for me. I lived in rural Georgia for the first 18 years of my life. My life and experience there is an inseparable part of my identity (even though for many years I wanted nothing more than to escape any association with it–but that’s a whole other story unto itself). I’ve been in New York for 14 years now. I call it my home just as much as that idyllic valley where I was raised.

My foot is firmly in both of these worlds. New York nurtures me in ways that, as an artist, a rural community simply cannot. And, likewise, the Georgia countryside nourishes in me a certain sense of self that is hard to find in New York. Yet I stand there in the middle, a union of opposites, and this allows me to stay centered and still. I can’t imagine having one without the other.

The more I delve into historical research, the more I see that I am not the first to go through this experience. Today while researching at the New York Public Library I ran across a short article from 1875–almost 140 years ago–from the Atlanta Constitution. It tells of a Dirt Town Valley native who had moved off to the city and returned home for a visit:

John is a native of Dirt Town Valley, in Chattooga county, and withal a gay and festive buck. Having for some time breathed the air of the city and basked in fortunes smiles, John determined to pay a visit to the scenes of his boyhood. Now be it known that John dresses well. His clothes fit nicely and with his graceful equipose; his linen is matchless in its snowy whiteness and marbleized smoothness. John determined to astonish the natives and he did. His tout ensemble was superb; the fragance of Hoyt’s German lingered around this jovinian curls and imperial. Now some of the boys of Dirt Town Valley thought they knew a thing or two because they had been to New York once and to Rome several times.

They gathered in knots around John upon his arrival, and gazed with rapture upon him. One said: “John, what did such a coat as that set you back.”

John replied with nonchalant air–”well it is a cheap affair. I think it cost me a trifle–some $75.”

“Gosh-darn-it-all” the crowd would exclaim “its dirt cheap!” while their eyes would dilate to the size of a saucer and their months would gape open.

“John, what did you pay for such pants?” was the next query.

“Well, they are only ordinary ones. They cost only $25.”

“Them’s fine shirts, John. How much did they cost?”

“Well, boys, I didn’t expect to stay more’n a day or so and only brought along three dozen. I paid $36 a dozen for them. Nice, ain’t they!”

And he was catechised in this manner throughout. John believed he had created a “sensation” and he had. Next morning as he passed down the street he could hear the boys shouting across the street to one another. “Say, Bill, I only brought down three dozen shirts and am only going to stay a day or two. I want to borrow a couple of dozen to make out a change.”

John returned to the city much improved in physical vigor but he did not tell his city friends of this Idyl of Dirt Town Valley.

Ok, sure, John does seem a little full of himself. Likewise the Dirt Towners seem a little unrefined. It’s the exaggerations here that make the story so compelling. As I read it through, the words roll off my tongue like poetry. It’s a perfect illustration of city versus country, refined versus rural… whether 1875, 1975, or today.

It comforts me to know that my experience is not unique. I know where John’s coming from. City people and country people just think differently. The day to day experiences of these two milieus are at such opposite ends of the spectrum that of course, given an encounter, they’re going to clash. It’s not that either realm is better or worse than the other… they’re just different. Each party would do well to step back, understand their differences, and cultivate a little respect for the other. I’ve seen both sides of the story. Both worlds have their positives and negatives. And I refuse to align myself with one over the other. If I’m a city dweller so too am I a country man. Both of these exist inside me. I know without a doubt that all people are one, no matter our external differences. This is what my journey into the past teaches over and over.

Rest assured I have learned my lesson from dear John. When I return to Georgia I won’t bring along three doezen shirts. Just a dozen–a few more at the most–will do the job nicely (I prefer to travel light anyway). And will I return to the city with physical vigor? Maybe… so long as mom doesn’t feed me too much!

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SOURCES

“A Dirt Town Valley Idyll.” The Atlanta Constitution (1869-1875). 12 MAr 1875: 3. Historical Newspapers. ProQuest. Accessed 6 Apr 2012.

Genealogists spend hours of research digging through old books and wrinkled papers. There are so many sources out there, from library books, courthouse records, to the box of papers stuffed away in your aunt’s attic. Your range of research material can be as varied as the family tree is sprawling. Because of that it helps to learn about resources fellow researchers have consulted, to hear their insights, and to learn why any particular source may (or may not) be useful to you. This post is the beginning of a series about sources I have consulted at some point during my research.

The Rambo family is unique in my tree in that, as far as I know, I am related to anyone with the surname Rambo. The Ramboo family is rooted in Sweden where, at the time, there were no surnames. You were identified simply as the son or daughter of your father, i.e., Peter Gunnarson literally translates to Peter, son of Gunnar. When my ancestor Peter came to the New World he adopted the name Rambo and therefore all descendants with that name can be traced back to Peter. You can read a general overview of the early Rambo generations in Jordan’s Journey… but if you want to explore them even deeper, be sure to take a look at The Rambo Family Tree by Beverly Nelson Rambo. Beverly’s tome is an extremely well documented work on many far reaching branches of Rambo descendants.

I first looked at Beverly’s book in the Milstein Division of the New York Public Library. It’s an intimidating text made all the more confusing to read because the Rambos used so many of the same names over… and over… and over. This is no fault of the text itself, of course, and ultimately the work is rewarding and an absolutely essential reference for anyone interested in the Rambo family. Just be prepared to tackle your share of headaches as you sort out the inter-generational who’s who.

Beverly published the book in 1986 and, unfortunately, died a few years later in 1990. Ron Beatty has continued Beverly’s valuable work. He published a second edition of the book and is working on a third. Be sure to check his website for more information.

My specific connection to the Rambo family is through my great grandmother, Ida Mae Rambo. She married Lawrence Chapman Scoggins. Read about Ida and her line of ancestry back to the original Rambo, Peter Gunnarson, in the Jordan’s Journey book. If you have any connection to the Rambo family, The Rambo Family Tree is the gold standard on the family and you should seek it out as soon as possible. If you are interested in the Rambo family, drop a comment to get in touch and we’ll compare research notes!

In more general news, coming soon look for the start of another ongoing series here at Jordan’s Journey more specific to northwest Georgia’s Armuchee and Dirt Town valley regions. Don’t miss a word and subscribe today via email or RSS. If you enjoyed this post, pass it along to someone else who might be interested (and leave a comment here too–I’m always happy to hear from you.).

SOURCES

Rambo, Beverly Nelson. The Rambo Family Tree: Descendants of Peter Gunnarson Rambo, 1611-1986. Decorah, Iowa: Anundsen Pub. Co, 1986. Print. WorldCat.

Rambo, Beverly Nelson and Ronald S. Beatty. The Rambo Family Tree. Web. Accessed at https://sites.google.com/site/rambofamilytree/, 1 Apr 2012. Web.

Way back before Jordan’s Journey came out I was doing all kinds of work not only writing, photographing, and designing the book but also figuring out how this website was going to work, what I wanted to do for the book trailer, and of course the research itself. As an artist, most everything I do has some purpose or meaning behind it. This sense of aesthetic plays an important role in what sets Jordan’s Journey apart from any other genealogy book I’ve ever seen.

The book trailer has its roots back in early 2011. It started with the poem that became the script for the trailer. And after that I just let it sit for a while. Creative ideas need time to incubate. By the time I visited the homeland in September 2011 things were ready to hatch. I filmed the principal photography for the trailer early one morning on the family farm. Editing didn’t happen for at least a few weeks but by the time I did start the work, I pretty much had it all laid out in my head… down to the music I wanted to use!

The music is from the album White Spirituals From The Sacred Harp and contains field recordings of the Alabama Sacred Harp Convention made by Alan Lomax in 1959. Sacred Harp is one of my favorite types of music.

I first encountered Sacred Harp in its proper form while studying music in New York City. When Professor Andrew Tomasello first dropped the needle and introduced us to the genre, it must have sounded completely foreign to my NYC-bred classmates. But for me it sounded instantly familiar and evoked images of my childhood. Though I did not grow up with Sacred Harp music proper, the music of the East Armuchee Baptist Church of my childhood was certainly influenced by this unique American style. We even used a shape note hymnal. I’ve always kept a copy of that Christian Praise hymnal and showed it to my music professor one day. He was intrigued by this artifact of southern musical culture. For me, connecting that emotional part of my past to my new academic interests was the icing on the cake… as if fate had led me to New York in the first place. This is only one example of how creating Jordan’s Journey would not have been possible without moving away and studying art in the big city!

I unveiled the trailer on 1 January 2012 when I opened up the Jordan’s Journey web site. Undoubtedly one of the first viewers, my mother wrote me, “What is that music? Is it a Cherokee chant?” I replied and told her about Sacred Harp. Later she wrote again, “Is it fa-so-la singing? I remember my Grannie talking about singing that way.”

I had uncovered a bit of family and local history here without even realizing it. Through studying Sacred Harp I had known instinctively “my people” came from that tradition. But I had never heard mention of it in the family. And here Jordan’s Journey helped my mother remember this long-forgotten detail about her Grannie. When I told mom about how Sacred Harp was performed with the singers moving their hand up and down to keep the time she exclaimed, “That’s what Grannie used to do! I never understood why she moved her hand like that.”

“It’s part of the Sacred Harp tradition, Mom. It’s how they kept time. She was singing Sacred Harp for you.”

Mom had never heard it called Sacred Harp before. They always called it fa-so-la singing. When we went to visit Grandmother not long after that Mom asked her, “Dot, do you remember your mom ever talking about fa-so-la singing?”

Grandmother shook her head and said, “No, I don’t believe I do.” The tone of her voice indicated that she thought she should have known and was disappointed she didn’t. “No, I’ve never heard of that.”

“It’s also called Sacred Harp singing,” I added.

“Oh yes!” Grandmother exclaimed. “I remember mama talking about Sacred Harp singings. Oh yes!”

I smiled, realizing just how spot on my trailer actually was. Not only did the Sacred Harp music have creative meaning, I had inadvertently unearthed some long forgotten memories about my ancestors. That little country church where I grew up indeed did sing songs that sounded an awful lot like Sacred Harp… because that’s exactly what the generations before them had sung. Counted out with every measure, singing loud for the sake and joy of singing. No expectations… just pure music.

And that’s exactly how it should be.

The above photo (click to enlarge) is of the 4th edition of The Sacred Harp hymnal. It’s from the collection of Armuchee Valley resident Delores Jackson Grigsby and originally belonged to her grandfather Clarence Ralph Jackson (1867-1929). Many thanks to Delores for helping me along this journey.

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This week I am proud to bring you the first video for Jordan’s Journey since the original book trailer. This video is about Suttle’s Mill in the area known as Green Bush in the West Armuchee valley of Walker County Georgia. This is a very short film, a quickly digestable experiment to get things started, if you will. You’d be amazed at the amount of work that goes into creating something so brief. Ah… the things we do for art and genealogy!

A special thanks goes out to Michael Harren for working with me on this project. He provided the beautiful score cues. You can look forward to more original scoring from Michael in future Jordan’s Journey videos. I know I am!

The photo of Suttle’s Mill, taken in about the 1940′s, was contributed by Kim Hendren. Ken digitized the image from the collection of Frank Shaw of Davis Crossroads, Georgia. Both Kim and Frank are descendents of the Suttle family.

The photo of the Puryear & Hunt general store is from the collection of Evelyn Morgan Shahan, generously shared by her daughter Judy Blackstock. This particular photo seems to be somewhat widepread in collections of Armuchee Valley families as I have encountered at least two others who have antique copies of the image. It’s a wonderful shot and I am grateful it has survived the generations.

To learn more about Green Bush be sure to read Jordan’s Journey. If you have any photos or other information to share, please leave a comment and get in touch.

This is my sister devouring human body parts just moments after she was turned into a zombie… oh no, wait… that was the b-grade horror movie I watched last night. Why did it seem so real?

Anyway, this is in fact my sister on her 5th birthday rather engrossed in licking the icing off the doll cake topper. The cake was made by our Grandmother (just like she did for Dad when he was growing up).

So, happy birthday, sis! Hope you’re having a good one. Remember to relax, breathe, and (zombie or not) try not to eat your cake topper. I love you.