Benjamin W. Carroll Family Line
Do Not Believe Your Family's Twisted Story
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by Carolyn Ann Howard
This post was updated 30 Aug 2021
My family tree has more twisted stories and lies. This is the one thing that saddens me about genealogy, but undoubtedly, every tree is filled with lies and varying degrees of twistedness simply because we're human beings each with our own filters.
Blood of My Ancestor was written to set the story straight about Joel Lyon's role in the murder of his wife and to clear his good name. He had previously been falsely accused of murder by my family and other families as well. Joel was the husband of my 2x grandaunt Adaline Cannon.
The story of Joel Lyon that my family likes to spin starts with "Joel was Catholic and Adaline was Protestant." This was happy news for the author in me, because it meant I'd get to write about the differences between Catholic and Protestant and to do so in a positive light. Because Adaline most likely would not have been taught about Catholicism in her girlhood, this became a great part of their story. Imagine her curiosity with Joel to begin with and then to learn his faith was so much different than hers.
About a month ago, I learned that even this, this small piece of the story another grandaunt had written down on paper was false! Author Beth Willis, who has chronicled so much of the history of Stockholm, New Jersey, from whence Joel came, told me that Joel was most likely Methodist. I posted this on Facebook -- like, can you believe it? And Joel's granddaughter replied:
I recently learned more about a different story that had only been heard in passing. The story was so crazy, it didn't even sink in. My father started the story by saying, "I understand that John Cannon was an atheist." John Cannon was my 2x great-grandfather. The story was so preposterous to me, I didn't even want to hear it, which made my father realize that it wasn't true. Thankfully, he stopped telling that story. Years later, my dear cousin said he had heard his father preach about how my great-grandmother, John Cannon's daughter, who birthed and reared my grandfather, was an infidel. An infidel!
I grew up in a legalistic household with lots of rules that must be kept in order to find favor with God. That upbringing made this word infidel conjure up feelings of vilification and shame. My great-grandmother, Hester Cannon Howard, however, was not an infidel. She was a member of the Methodist Episcopal Church and brought her children up the same. This was confirmed in her obituary that stated "from girlhood, she was a consistent adherent to the faith." We know that after she moved from Mount Calvary to within the city limits of Loogootee, Indiana, she attended the Methodist Church there in Loogootee. Prior to that, she attended Mount Calvary Methodist Episcopal.
I admit, sometimes I put my great-grandmother on a pedestal. Mostly, though, I just hold her in high esteem. Why not? She owned her own business and ran it successfully. She was a single mother, and she had spunk. Another uncle, one who had known her in real life, told me she had spunk. He said it with the most beautiful smile on his face. He was proud of her, for sure. Click on photo to enlarge.
I have a theory how this story about Hester got started. You see, Hester had two boys with her husband, Billy, who died of tuberculosis shortly after their births. She was protective of them, and they of her. Her eldest son fought in World War I and, after that, he moved to Binghamton, New York, escaping her protection. Earl was 31 when he married, and he stayed in Binghamton the rest of his life.
Once Earl had moved, Hester only had her youngest son, Rodolphus, who went by Dolph, to help her on the truck farm, with their boarding rooms, and whatever needed to be done around the home. Hester's parents were gone, and her sister and best friend was gone - murdered brutally in cold blood. I'm sure Hester really relied on Dolph.
When Dolph turned 30, he married my grandmother, Grace Carroll. As was the custom in those days, the couple lived with my great-grandmother for about a year before setting up their own household. The two women did not get along. Not even a little.
I knew my grandmother well. She was excessively religious and felt rules needed to be followed in order to achieve holiness. Her father also was an extremely religious man. Her half-brother, John Carroll, was the founder of four Pilgrim Holiness churches in Martin County - Burns City, Mount Zion, Poplar Grove and Shoals, as well as the Pilgrim Holiness campground called "Singing Hill."
Blood of My Ancestor was written to set the story straight about Joel Lyon's role in the murder of his wife and to clear his good name. He had previously been falsely accused of murder by my family and other families as well. Joel was the husband of my 2x grandaunt Adaline Cannon.
The story of Joel Lyon that my family likes to spin starts with "Joel was Catholic and Adaline was Protestant." This was happy news for the author in me, because it meant I'd get to write about the differences between Catholic and Protestant and to do so in a positive light. Because Adaline most likely would not have been taught about Catholicism in her girlhood, this became a great part of their story. Imagine her curiosity with Joel to begin with and then to learn his faith was so much different than hers.
About a month ago, I learned that even this, this small piece of the story another grandaunt had written down on paper was false! Author Beth Willis, who has chronicled so much of the history of Stockholm, New Jersey, from whence Joel came, told me that Joel was most likely Methodist. I posted this on Facebook -- like, can you believe it? And Joel's granddaughter replied:
I know that my grandfather was Methodist, because as a kid I would ride with him to church sometimes. And I was baptized Methodist when I was a kid.Seriously, though? The whole damn story written about Joel Lyon in my family's records was false to its very core. "Joel was Catholic and Adaline was Protestant" needs to be changed to "Joel was Methodist and so was Adaline." Then again, that one sentence would blow up the whole story that begins with Joel baptizing their new infant son as a Catholic behind Adaline's back.
I recently learned more about a different story that had only been heard in passing. The story was so crazy, it didn't even sink in. My father started the story by saying, "I understand that John Cannon was an atheist." John Cannon was my 2x great-grandfather. The story was so preposterous to me, I didn't even want to hear it, which made my father realize that it wasn't true. Thankfully, he stopped telling that story. Years later, my dear cousin said he had heard his father preach about how my great-grandmother, John Cannon's daughter, who birthed and reared my grandfather, was an infidel. An infidel!
I grew up in a legalistic household with lots of rules that must be kept in order to find favor with God. That upbringing made this word infidel conjure up feelings of vilification and shame. My great-grandmother, Hester Cannon Howard, however, was not an infidel. She was a member of the Methodist Episcopal Church and brought her children up the same. This was confirmed in her obituary that stated "from girlhood, she was a consistent adherent to the faith." We know that after she moved from Mount Calvary to within the city limits of Loogootee, Indiana, she attended the Methodist Church there in Loogootee. Prior to that, she attended Mount Calvary Methodist Episcopal.
I admit, sometimes I put my great-grandmother on a pedestal. Mostly, though, I just hold her in high esteem. Why not? She owned her own business and ran it successfully. She was a single mother, and she had spunk. Another uncle, one who had known her in real life, told me she had spunk. He said it with the most beautiful smile on his face. He was proud of her, for sure. Click on photo to enlarge.
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| Hester Howard on the left at her home in Loogootee, IN Carolyn Ann Howard family collection |
Once Earl had moved, Hester only had her youngest son, Rodolphus, who went by Dolph, to help her on the truck farm, with their boarding rooms, and whatever needed to be done around the home. Hester's parents were gone, and her sister and best friend was gone - murdered brutally in cold blood. I'm sure Hester really relied on Dolph.
When Dolph turned 30, he married my grandmother, Grace Carroll. As was the custom in those days, the couple lived with my great-grandmother for about a year before setting up their own household. The two women did not get along. Not even a little.
I knew my grandmother well. She was excessively religious and felt rules needed to be followed in order to achieve holiness. Her father also was an extremely religious man. Her half-brother, John Carroll, was the founder of four Pilgrim Holiness churches in Martin County - Burns City, Mount Zion, Poplar Grove and Shoals, as well as the Pilgrim Holiness campground called "Singing Hill."
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| Singing Hill in Shoals, Indiana Carolyn Ann Howard Family Collection |
Rules were the order of the day. No pants for the girls. No dice. No playing cards. No board games. No laughter. Children do not talk. No make-up. No cutting hair. The rules were crushing. To make things worse, my grandmother attended the Methodist Church in Loogootee, and I knew these weren't Methodist beliefs, so it made absolutely no sense! The fact that her heritage as Pilgrim Holiness was never discussed led me to realize that she was a Pilgrim Holiness cleverly disguised as a Methodist.
In my grandmother's eyes, surely I'd be an infidel. I drink wine. I wear pants. I wear make-up. I use dice in my piano classroom to play music games with my students. It is doubtful that Hester drank or wore pants or make-up or even played with dice, but she had spunk and could stand up for herself, that is for sure. My uncle told me a man was harassing her, so she threw a tomato right in his face. He told me that with the same proud smile.
It's so easy to make up stories about the dead, whether those stories are true or false, good or bad. Your job as a genealogist is to sort through the data you have and make informed observations, backing that up as much as possible with eyewitness statements, newspaper clipping, and other documentation. It's also good to make sure everyone is innocent until proven guilty.
In my grandmother's eyes, surely I'd be an infidel. I drink wine. I wear pants. I wear make-up. I use dice in my piano classroom to play music games with my students. It is doubtful that Hester drank or wore pants or make-up or even played with dice, but she had spunk and could stand up for herself, that is for sure. My uncle told me a man was harassing her, so she threw a tomato right in his face. He told me that with the same proud smile.
It's so easy to make up stories about the dead, whether those stories are true or false, good or bad. Your job as a genealogist is to sort through the data you have and make informed observations, backing that up as much as possible with eyewitness statements, newspaper clipping, and other documentation. It's also good to make sure everyone is innocent until proven guilty.
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