My First Piano Teacher, Betty Jane McMillan Kovatch (1922-2008)

Growing Up with a Preacher Man 

Rev. William "Lester" Howard (1929-2021)
Mary Eulalie McLean Howard (1933-2021)

My First Piano Teacher, Betty Jane McMillan Kovatch (1922-2008)
___________________

by Carolyn Ann Howard

My piano teacher growing up was Betty Kovatch. This woman had a profound influence on me, and it wasn't always good. But... it wasn't always bad, either.

My mother enrolled me in piano lessons when I was 5 years old. I don't know why, and I don't know how I came to be taught by Betty Kovatch. My mother always felt that signing me up for lessons was one of her greatest accomplishments. For me, the lessons have been both a blessing and a curse. I have been a professional musician for most of my adult life. Sometimes I wish instead, though, that I had didn't know how to play the piano. I love telling stories, history, and writing more than anything. I have no regrets in the end.

I first met Betty Kovatch in or around 1966. She lived at 301 Bluff Street in my childhood hometown of Monticello, Indiana. I still remember what the entirety of her house looked like. A huge rectangular living room with the "idiot box," as she called it, in one corner and a spinet piano in the opposite corner. In a cabinet, she kept her John Thompson method books, and my mother bought from her "Teaching Little Fingers to Play." I remember coming home from that first lesson and asking what my assignment was. Well, there was no assignment, and I was so disappointed. Click on photos to enlarge

301 Bluff Street
Courtesy Google Maps
proper attribution given

Mrs. Kovatch, as I will refer to her in this story, was a chain smoker and had 2 Siamese cats who would hide whenever I was there, except for the one time I spent the night. She would smoke half a cigarette between lessons, always back in her kitchen. And sometimes she would bring back the most amazing looking coffee drinks with her to sip on while she taught. I was always so jealous that she had a drink, and I didn't.

A couch partitioned off the teaching area of her home, and students would walk in at their appointed time without knocking. I was always a little early - story of my life - and so I would wait on that same couch. Socially, I was awkward, and one time, I heard Mrs. Kovatch laughing with another student, and so I laughed as well, because I thought I was just being part of the group. Mrs. Kovatch didn't say anything to me at that time, but she called my mother later to tell her I had laughed at a student. I got into so much trouble and the next week, I was forced to apologize to Mrs. Kovatch. It was really hard for me to do that, and it was so embarrassing. No one told me what I had done wrong or even what I was apologizing for. Besides, shouldn't the apology have been given to the other girl I supposedly laughed at? I would have never done this to any of my piano students. It's hard enough being a child as it is.

 I owe the musician I am today to Dr. Douglas Reed, who was my organ professor while studying at the University of Evansville. When I first reached Ball State University in 1979 - with a full scholarship - I didn't even know what a chord was. I didn't even know fully what staccato meant! My students learn about intervals in their very first book; indeed, it is how I teach children to read music. Staccato/legato is one of the first technics they learn, and granted, I might not tell them that staccato means half the value of the note, I will certainly let them know later when they become more advanced. And the same with chords. And it's not because I'm a great teacher - which I would like to think that after over 40 years, I am pretty good at teaching - it's the method books that I use. It's in the method books where all these things are introduced. The method books guide the teacher to teach correctly and in order. The John Thompson series of method books, unfortunately, were not great. They did not guide the student or the teacher through anything. It was merely one song after the other and hopefully you were able to play it by the next lesson. More often than not, I couldn't, and it was, Mrs. Kovatch said, because I didn't practice enough. She was correct.

When I finally reached the University of Evansville, I remember vividly my first lesson with Dr. Douglas Reed.  In that first lesson, I badly bungled a run. And I thought, "Oh no, here we go. He's going to accuse me of not practicing when really I had practiced quite a bit to prepare for that lesson. But after I finished playing, he looked at me thoughtfully and said, "Let's look at the fingering on that run." Mind blown.

One more comparison between my two most important teachers - I still to this day, at the age of 60, cannot bring myself to call Douglas Reed "Doug." He will always be "Dr. Reed" to me, even though my colleagues call him "Doug." Mrs. Kovatch, however, in my adult years, I called her "Betty." 

Soon after I started lessons, I participated in my first recital. It was held at the Presbyterian church in Monticello, and I was the youngest student to perform. I forgot what piece I played  because I at first had a different piece. Always anxious about things at hand, I practiced a ridiculous amount of time and learned my recital piece in one week. And so, Mrs. Kovatch gave me another, more difficult piece to learn. I was asked to curtsy after playing my piece, and I didn't know how, and that laughter that people do when a child is doing something cute or, more likely, awkward, I felt like everyone was laughing at me. I felt stupid.

One thing that Mrs. Kovatch was great at was arranging field trips and preparing students for contest. I think we did two contests per year, and they were a lot of fun, actually. I was popular with the other piano students, even though at school, I was unpopular and bullied. She would pair me with older girls to play duets for contest and for recitals, and those older girls would talk to me at school. Sometimes they would even invite me over for sleepovers under the guise of "practicing our duet together." What I mean by them talking to me at school - I had a very good friend that went to my dad's church, who was a little older than I. Although I considered her my best friend, because we did all the church things together, she wouldn't talk to me at school.

The contests were different. Many times, we would all ride together or in a caravan to wherever the contest was. And they were at really cool places, like one was at Northwestern University. I didn't understand at that time what a big deal that really was. I always performed well in the contests. But what was more fun than anything was the fellowship with the other students.

I do remember once all of us eating together in a restaurant and for some reason, I ordered a coffee. I don't understand this, because I didn't become a coffee drinker until much later in my life. Mrs. Kovatch loudly proclaimed that I was too young for coffee and again - stupid me. But one of the girls took me aside later and said, "You should've been able to have coffee."

We lived near Purdue University, and we would attend musicals and plays there. Or we would travel to Valparaiso for concerts. My piano teacher was very well connected and knew loads of people, and she was super outgoing. We were always treated with great care everywhere we went with her.

Mrs. Kovatch loved everything Hispanic and Native American. She claimed to speak fluent Spanish. She adored priests and monks and said that her delicious bread recipe was given to her by a monk at St. Meinrad. I asked her several times for the recipe, but she wouldn't give it to me. Her kitchen cabinets were overflowing with fiestaware, and her jewelry, for the most part, was Native American.

Fiestaware
Courtesy Pixabay

Mrs. Kovatch was always looking to find money. I'm not sure why, because she had a really good base of students, and she most likely worked at a church somewhere. She loved fancy clothes, though, so maybe that is part of it. And she loved to travel. She had a yard sale annually. She would collect items all year long and have a huge sale. In later years, I took part in these sales with her. It was a nice way of making a little extra cash, and I enjoyed having Mrs. Kovatch as my friend.

She continually berated her husband, however, so much so that I was afraid of him. He was always nice to me whenever I was there, but I still really worried about being in his presence. It turned out - studying for this blog - that her husband had been a famous professional football player for the Washington Redskins and Green Bay Packers. In Monticello, he worked for the RCA factory. It turns out, he was a good guy!

John Kovatch

She also continually berated her son. I think it might be that he turned on her, but I'm not sure. For some reason, Mrs. Kovatch latched onto my mother, cornering her when she would pick me up for lesson or by calling her on the phone. So, I heard a lot more gossip from her than maybe other students. It was the decade of the 1960s, though. She stated that her son had become a sun worshipper in Seattle. I was unsuccessful in finding much out about Paul for this blog.

The musical disconnect, I believe, is that I wasn't interested - at that time - in classical piano. I wanted to play the top hits, and I loved Karen Carpenter, because she had a low voice like mine, and I could sing her songs while I played. I wanted to play Disney songs. I wanted to play Henry Mancini, Elton John, and Neil Diamond. She wouldn't have any of it, insisting that only the classics were worthy of being played. Sometimes I look at our current modern society and think of all the musicians working behind the scenes in popular music. That could have been me. Instead, everyone pushed me to go the classical route. It's all fine, though. In the end, my life is good, fun, and happy. And as my friend Lynn said, when addressing a piano teacher's group that I'm in, she congratulated us for picking such a noble profession and lifted us up by acknowledging the many lives we have touched as teachers. That's the best legacy anyone could hope for.

Mrs. Kovatch visited us one time in my current hometown of Evansville, Indiana. She stayed at The Executive Inn, and Mom and I went to her hotel room to visit her. I was working full-time at Schuttler Music as a teacher by then, and I asked her what she thought of the Bastian method book series. Mrs. Kovatch treated me like a child and refused to talk with me about teaching piano. Unfortunately, her behavior toward me that night made me upset, and I only had one more interaction with her after that.

In her later years, Mrs. Kovatch and her husband parted ways. She went to Arizona. I don't know if he stayed in Monticello or not. The last time I talked with her was right before she died. She called on the phone and asked me if I would buy her stamp collection for $500. I told her that I wasn't interested, and it hurt both our feelings badly. Mine, because I hated to see her beg, but money was tight for me at that time, now having a child of my own. Hers, because I wouldn't give in and send her money.

Mrs. Kovatch had big shoes to fill, though. Not only does her husband have a famous rating on Find-A-Grave, her father, Vernon McMillan also has one. Mr. McMillan is famous for having a sporting goods store in Terre Haute, Indiana, where he designed the first football helmet.

Betty died 11 Mar 2008 in Tucson, Arizona. She is buried in Lafayette, Indiana.

© 2022 by December Moonlight Publishing, LLC

Building the Church Building in Monticello, IN

Growing Up with a Preacher Man 

Rev. William "Lester" Howard (1929-2021)
Mary Eulalie McLean Howard (1933-2021)

Building the Church Building
____________________

by Carolyn Ann Howard

When we lived in Monticello, I took a lot of pictures. When I first got married, I entrusted those photographs to my parents, who had a much bigger space than I had in my tiny apartment. My pictures ended up in a box with a bunch of other pictures kept in my mother's bottom dresser drawer. I didn't take the pictures to my home when I bought a house, because I thought they were safe in that bottom drawer. They weren't. They're gone now. All gone. I have no idea where they are, and it is a regret. Because one, they were my pictures but two, I should have retrieved them years ago, and I just didn't do it. And now I'm trying to blog about my father's life and have very few pictures to jog my memory.

We moved to Monticello in 1963 and the cornerstone of the church states it was built in 1966, so my father wasted no time in his mission. The church hired an architect to design the church, but it was built largely from sweat equity from the members and by my father. It was a beautiful space, and we were very proud of it, rightly so. The only thing is that they didn't put in air conditioning, because in 1966, it wasn't as hot as it is now. The church had a "whole house" fan and we also had one in our house, next door to the church. During the summer, we would open all the windows and let the whole-house fan run, and it was just fine.

As an aside, it was pretty dark back there, living off the road like we did. So dad put up a dusk-to-dawn light that was visible from the piano room window. That light gave me such comfort. Click on photos to enlarge

The church building itself was beautiful red brick with stained glass windows. The wooden arches in the sanctuary were gorgeous, and the fellowship hall was fitted with portable wall dividers so that it could be converted into Sunday school classrooms. A switch on the wall rang a bell that let everyone know when Sunday school was over. Howard Shine was the ringer of that bell every Sunday without fail. The only thing were those ball lights in the sanctuary. I had nightmares over those things!

The Fellowship Hall
with its dividers

I felt so at home in that building. Not only was my house my home, but the church building was an extension of that home. I remember playing a new Partridge Family album nonstop in the foyer one winter day, when school was out for Christmas. The information booklets that most churches keep for their parishioners to buy/borrow was also on a table inside that foyer. "Good News for Modern Man" and "My Heart, Christ's Home," were two examples.

My father valued privacy/modesty almost above all else, and so the restrooms had a barrier in the hallway to shield their entrance. This was his invention. He had the restrooms put in as far away from the sanctuary as possible, and the nursery was also across from these restrooms. Everything about that building was perfect and perfectly placed. Even though small, we had plenty of room for every activity.

The building always welcomed me and was never judgmental, even when my weight started to creep up, and I started to get bullied at school. I was bullied at the school, but not at the church. As a child, I didn't understand the link between weight and food, and our house was filled with chocolate cereal, donuts, chips, and other unhealthy foods. Additionally, I needed my teeth fixed, which never happened, and I still have trouble pronouncing "s" (even though I had my two front teeth fixed after my first marriage, but they could use a bit more help.) I had to take remedial speech in grade school when what I really needed was just my teeth fixed.

Under my father's ministry and guidance, that building became a home for many of us, though, not just me. And it was BUSY. Many activities went on inside and outside that church building, and we all felt like a family, because we were!

My father certainly had a win with this church. In his later life, he wished he would have stayed in Monticello and retired from there. This would have been good for my mom as well. But we had a wonderful 14 years here and I'll take it!

Pictures are from the Carolyn Ann Howard Family Collection.

© 2022 by December Moonlight Publishing, LLC

My Parents' Back Story - WIlliam Lester Howard and Mary Eulalie McLean

Growing Up with a Preacher Man 

Rev. William "Lester" Howard (1929-2021)
Mary Eulalie McLean Howard (1933-2021)

My Parent's Backstory
____________________

by Carolyn Ann Howard

After my father graduated from the high school in Alfordsville, Indiana, in 1947, he went to Indianapolis to hang out with his brother, my Uncle Willis. They lived in a boarding house together, and my father got a job at a cardboard factory making 55 cents an hour.  After only a year, he stated he "received the call." This is how at least Baptist pastors say how they know that God is "calling" them to the ministry. Uncle Willis and Dad next got jobs at a Christian Church doing construction for an expansion, paying $1.17 an hour, but that job ended when the summer ended. After that, my father got a job at Standard Brands. 

My father at this point wasn't quite Baptist yet. He grew up in the Methodist Church there at Alfordsville, infused with an unhealthy dose of "holiness." I'm pretty sure some of the Methodist doctrine has changed since the late 1940s, but I know that all the rules my father felt like he had to follow were not part of that doctrine.

After a year in Indianapolis, my father had saved up enough to attend Taylor University. This school continues to this day as a nondenominational Christian college and is located in Upland, Indiana. He attended for one year before his savings ran out. He loved it at Taylor University, and I'm sorry he let money make the decision for him that he could not afford to continue there. That was The Silent Generation. Hard-working, thrifty, loyal. That was my father. 

After the year at Taylor was over, he went back to Alfordsville to live with his brother John, sister Esther, and his mom. Not knowing what else to do, he wrote to the District Superintendent (D.S.) in Evansville and asked if there were any jobs open for a student pastorate. The D.S. gave him the Methodist churches of Gentryville and Buffaloville. Dad was 19, and the pay was $20 a week. A woman in Gentryville by the name of Kate Pittman fixed all his meals for $3.00 a week. They were very good company for each other. He lived in the parsonage at Gentryville. Click on photos to enlarge

In or around 1948
Carolyn Ann Howard Family Collection

Yankeetown sanctuary, now razed
Carolyn Ann Howard Family Collection

After a year, the D.S. felt Dad should be closer to Evansville, since he had made the decision to enroll at Evansville College. His churches at that time were in Warrick County, Indiana and included Yankeetown, Pelzer, Union, and Oak Grove Methodist Churches. It was common at that time for young Methodist pastors in rural areas to have two or more churches.

Dad wasn't happy at Evansville College, though. He didn't like their liberal outlook towards religion, and he thought, again, it was just too much money. Therefore, after two quarters, he decided to transfer to Oakland City College.

My mother went to the Yankeetown church with her family when Dad was pastor there. Dad told stories of eating Sunday dinner at my grandparent's house each week. I'm sure it was my grandparent's plan all along to set my father up with my mother. And my mother was happy for the arrangement. Although she dearly loved her parents and, after they passed, idolized them, at that point in time, she wanted out of their house more than anything else. She was 17. My father was 21.

11 Jul 1951
Carolyn Ann Howard Family Collection

After Dad married my mother in 1951, the D. S. transferred my father to Selvin, Folsomville, Garrison Chapel, and Mt. Pleasant Methodist Churches. It was here that Dad decided to switch from the Methodist Church to the American Baptist Church. He never liked infant baptism, believing that people should make their own decision for Christ and then be baptized, making a public confession at that time. He also thought that communism was infiltrating the Methodist Church, and that concerned my father greatly. As someone remarked to me after Dad died, "So... McCarthyism got to him?" Um, that would be a yes.

Once this decision was made, he quit the Methodist Church, which meant The Methodist Church was no longer there to give him employment. Because of that, my parents moved from Selvin into an apartment on Governor Street in Evansville. My dad got into a lot of debt at this time, buying appliances and other things to set up the household. He felt that he had to work, so he got a job at Briggs, which made Plymouth bodies for the Chrysler Factory that was in Evansville at that time. This was at the corner of Columbia and Evans. He got out of debt, but the schedule was grueling. He worked second shift, and then would drive to Oakland City College, and then would come home and do school work, and then go back to work. My mother, in the meantime, worked at Mead Johnson on their secretarial staff.

Briggs Manufacturing
USI Special Collections via Historic Evansville

Once my father graduated Oakland City College in 1954, he enrolled at Southern Baptist Seminary in Louisville, Kentucky, leaving my mother to live in her parent's garage. She hated this, and one thing Dad was good at was *trying* to make Mom happy. It wasn't long, then, that she was living with Dad in Louisville in seminary housing. It was here that she learned to sew. It was also here that she gave birth to a son, Wayne, whose namesake was after a man my father would never see again. My namesake is similar.

In or around 1951

1956
Carolyn Ann Howard Family Collection

After his graduation from Southern Baptist Seminary in 1958, Dad took a job at Hills Baptist Church in Kirklin, Indiana. American Baptist Churches are different from the Methodists in that the individual churches form search committees to look for a pastor. The pastor applies for the job, and then the search committee decides whether to hire the candidate or not. 

Graduation Photo
Louisville, KY

In 1961, I was born in nearby Noblesville, Indiana as Kirklin didn't have a hospital.

Me at 3 months with unknown neighbor
This is definitely not my mother

From Hills, Dad bounced to Centerville and, stating to me later that he didn't care for Southern Indiana, he jumped at the chance to move his family to Northern Indiana.

At Centerville
In or around 1963

My father evidently forgot about his dislike of Southern Indiana, because 14 years after the move to Monticello, Indiana, we moved back to Evansville, Indiana, which is located on the southern border of the state. Can't get more south in Indiana than Evansville.

© 2022 by December Moonlight Publishing, LLC

Our Arrival at Monticello, IN - 1963

Growing Up with a Preacher Man

Rev. William "Lester" Howard (1929-2021)
Mary Eulalie McLean Howard (1933-2021)

Our Arrival at Monticello, IN - 1963
____________________

by Carolyn Ann Howard

My first memory, whether planted or real, was on moving day, 1963. I was 2 years old. The memory I have is clutching my black velvet purse and probably my doll, Billy, who had apparently been given to me as a gift. Billy was a Madame Alexander knock-off, and she was my best friend. I was closer to that doll than to anyone else. In this memory, I was walking on a sidewalk, heading toward our car. We didn't have car seats in 1963 or seatbelts in the back seat. I made it out alive, though.

The second memory, whether planted or real, is that of Bill and Ruth Kretchmar showing us around the house we were going to move into. It was located on Beach Drive in Monticello, Indiana.  My father had taken the position there as pastor for the American Baptist Church in this small resort town. The church had been started about five years prior, and they were meeting in a store front on the east side of Monticello. My father's mission, and he accepted it, was to build a church there on Beach Drive that would become The First American Baptist Church of Monticello.

I don't remember anything else after that until they were ready to begin preparations for building the church. The first project was moving our house back from the street to make room for the church and its parking lot. My only memory was of Moving Day. This was in 1965. I was 4 years old. I was crying - bawling - looking for perhaps my mother. I don't know what was wrong, but I'm sure I was clutching Billy. It might have been Mr. Mann who found me. Someone who wasn't my mother calmed me that day. Click on photos to enlarge

Moving that house was genius. My father was very good at building things. He and the church members built a basement that the house would stand on. This made our house huge. One of the additional rooms added - that would eventually become my bedroom when I got older - was big enough for a bed, desk, chest of drawers, dresser, perfume table, cedar chest, and a rocking chair. Even with all that, there was still plenty of room for me to sit on the floor and play cards - an activity that got me through the stress of being "Rev. Howard's daughter". But... I'm getting ahead of myself here!

After moving day, our house also had enough room for a playroom for me and a huge bedroom for my brother. We had a shower room and laundry room in the basement. We also had a living room in the basement with dark wood paneling. In the evenings, when the sun was setting and the wind was blowing through our many trees, it would shine into the window, casting moving shadows onto the wood paneling. To make things even better, someone had put a plastic Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer in the sill.

Mom sitting in our green chair in the downstairs living room
Carolyn Ann Howard Family Collection

The rest of the walk-out basement contained a huge kitchen and dining room with cabinets all around. And a pantry! Upstairs were three bedrooms, a piano room for me, a full bathroom, my mother's beauty shop and a formal living room. I always remembered that this house was one of those with two front doors. The first front door allowed visitors into the formal living room without letting them into the rest of the house. So the house could be a mess, except for the formal living room, and visitors would never know it was a mess! But our house was never a mess. My mother kept it tidy and clean, almost obsessively so. As for the memory of the two front doors, it is a false memory. Clearly the pictures above show just one front door.

We also had a large attic that had a real walkable floor - probably installed by my handyman father. And it was tall enough to stand in. This was my dad's space that he called his "study". He kept all his books there and, looking back, all his mess. I have been told that men like to have all their stuff out where they can see it. In this space, my father could have all his stuff out. His papers, his booklets, his books, his brochures, and his pictures. A plus for me, there was a small roof outside the attic where I could sunbathe and no one could see me. I don't remember if my mother ever went up to the attic to clean or otherwise, but I don't think she did.

My mom in the back of our big house
Notice the windows above in the attic
Carolyn Ann Howard Family Collection

We lived on 7 acres of land PLUS behind the home was a large, wooded area and behind that, the old, huge Monticello City Cemetery. It was heaven living on that property. I would spend most of my time in the woods and in that cemetery. It is probably why I became a genealogist. I would walk through the cemetery and study the stones and wonder what their stories were. I still do that today.

I lived in Monticello with my family for 14 years and enjoyed all the pleasures of living in a resort town that featured twin lakes - Lake Shafer and Lake Freeman. It was here that I experienced so much pain and suffering, joy and sorrow, fun and happiness. My experiences here, growing up as a preacher's kid, gave shape to my entire life. That life in the end is very happy and satisfying and fun. But it took a while to get there.

© 2022 by December Moonlight Publishing, LLC

Blood of My Ancestor Family Reunion!

Beautiful Martin County, Indiana

Blood of My Ancestor Family Reunion!
____________________

by Carolyn Ann Howard

Last year, 2019, I cooked up an idea and didn't know where it would end up. I was looking for ways to connect with the family I had found through writing Blood of My Ancestor. Some of the family members I heard from after writing "Blood" were the step-grandson of Earl Howard, the Brown family, who live in Evansville and are descended from the Cannons, as well as several descendants of my 4x great grandfather, Godfrey Howard. Although its good to be on Facebook with them, I was hoping for more! So I put the idea out there about having a family reunion, meeting together in Martin County, Indiana. I made a Facebook event page and sat back with anticipation watching to see if anyone would join. Click on photos to enlarge

When it looked like the event had some interest, I began to plan. What in the world would we do for two days in Martin County? Fortunately, I have friends in Martin County to help! Soon my plans came together, and the family reunion was all set! I didn't know going in, however, that it was going to be one of the highlights of my entire life!

Thursday evening, we all met together at Stoll's Restaurant (pictured above). Stoll's is located on the banks of West Boggs Lake in Loogootee, Indiana. Not only is the view gorgeous, but its also the best place to have a party like the one above. There's plenty of space to spread out and be comfortable, and they have something for everyone on their buffet. We had such a good time talking together!

Kenny and I stayed the next two nights in my friend Marie's cabin, and I think we were the last to do so as she sold the cabin in 2020.  The cabin is special to me, because this is the area my ancestors first lived when they came to Martin County in or around 1850. Staying in the cabin held so much meaning for me and Marie went out of her way to make sure we were comfortable!

This is the view from the backyard of the cabin. The cabin is located on what's called The Overlook, because it looks over the East Fork of White River. Its my belief that my Howard ancestors came into Martin County from the East Fork of White River. When they saw how beautiful the countryside was, they stayed!

The next morning, Friday, Kenny and I ate at Velma's Diner in Shoals, Indiana. Velma's is a wonderful breakfast place, a fine diner. From biscuits and gravy to eggs over easy, they have anything you might want for breakfast, perfectly made to order!

Kenny and I then made our way to NSWC Crane Naval Base. Yep! Southern Indiana is home to a naval base! According to the Indianapolis Star, 21 Jun 2016, Crane employs around 5,000 civilians and adds around $800 million each year to our state economy. The base came into Martin County in or around 1941 and took the land of about three of Martin County's townships. They fenced off a lot of where my ancestors lived, including Goldsberry Hollow, where Joel Lyon lived with his wife, my grandaunt Adaline.

Fortunately, I had also learned because of Blood of My Ancestor, that the soldiers and staff at the naval base are gracious and kind. They had even reached out to me after I wrote "Blood" and threw a huge all-day event to celebrate the book! Because of this, I knew the odds were good that we'd be able to do cemetery visits as part of the reunion.

There are somewhere around 29 cemeteries behind the gates of the naval base. When I emailed them about a group of us taking a tour, the offer was made that we could tour three of the cemeteries.  I chose Boggs Creek, West Union and Williams. Seven of us gathered at the naval base. Two others joined later, just for the Boggs Creek Cemetery tour.

I was super nervous, just on edge. I had six people counting on me to make it worth their while for all they had put into being a part of this reunion. The couple from Evansville, Indiana, Laura and Bill, were staying at a hotel in Washington, Indiana. Ann, from Pennsylvania and Greg and Mary from Wisconsin were staying in Jasper. What if it turned out that they had wasted their time? What if it turned out they were bored to tears? My anxiety level was through the roof!

We made a caravan to follow the two soldiers who had been assigned to us. We were told we could take pictures in the cemeteries only. Kenny and I followed behind the soldier's truck. Bill and Laura rode with us. Ann, Greg and Mary rode together in behind us.

Crane Naval Base is HUGE!!! It took us forever to get from cemetery to cemetery, and my anxiety level was still great. Was everyone having a good time? Was anyone bored with all the driving?

When we got to Boggs Creek cemetery, the decision was made to only allow the two people who had joined only to go to this cemetery. To get to this cemetery, you must climb a very steep and long hill. The soldiers decided one would take the extra couple up in the truck and, warning us that the road wasn't very good to

the cemetery, we were told to wait behind with the other soldier. They told me I could join in going up to Boggs Creek, but I decided to stay behind with the others. It was a good decision. For August, it was a particularly pleasant morning, and it was so much fun talking with my extended family. The soldier talked a little about how he had asked to be assigned to Crane, but he gave very little away. Greg would laugh later, saying that he made a very good soldier indeed, being a man of few words.

I don't have any family members buried in Williams, but it is one of the larger cemeteries and so I thought it would be fun.

This is an interesting stone in Williams Cemetery.

After we were finished with our tour of the three cemeteries behind the gates of Crane Naval Base, we traveled by caravan back to Loogootee to enjoy lunch together. I knew by this time that the two-day reunion was going to be successful, although I still didn't realize how much it was going to mean to me in the end.

All pictures in this blog posting are from the Carolyn Ann Howard Family Collection. The photos of the cemeteries in Crane Naval Base were taken with permission.

© 2022 by December Moonlight Publishing, LLC

The Contrived "Sin" of My Great Grandmother, Eva Carroll Painter

Benjamin W. Carroll Family Line

Eva King Carroll Painter (1870-1934)

____________________

by Carolyn Ann Howard

My great grandmother, Eva Painter, was what my Uncle Willis called "a very nice person."  She was born in 1870 most likely near Birdseye, Indiana. Her maiden name was King. Click on photos to enlarge

Eva King Carroll Painter
Carolyn Ann Howard Family Collection

Eva was the second wife of Hickman Carroll. Hickman Carroll's sister was Sarah Carroll who married Jacob Painter. Hickman died. Sarah died. And so Eva married Jacob Painter, her brother-in-law. From what I understand, my grandmother Grace, Eva's daughter, was L-I-V-I-D!

But why?

My father, from my recollections, said it was because of the relationship, in that they were "related" as in-laws. My grandmother was strictly Pilgrim Holiness and for a while, this thought held up. But now, after having scanned through Holiness doctrine, I find nothing in it that states a member can't marry an in-law. There are some laws against what is called a consanguine marriage, which, according to Wikipedia, is a "marriage between two family members who are second cousins or closer." Although, according to National Institute of Health (NIH), this definition is a bit simple, we'll use the Wikimedia definition for our purposes here. 

The problems allegedly with this type of arrangement - marrying a cousin - is some evidence of birth defects in their offspring. It is illegal here in the United States in some states to marry a first cousin. It is perfectly legal, however, to marry an in-law.

My great grandmother, Eva, with her husband, Hickman, and their children
Carolyn Ann Howard Family Collection

Next, I checked the family tree to see if somehow Jacob Painter was blood related to Eva Carroll. I could find no evidence of any blood relations. So what was really going on here with Eva's daughter, Grace - my grandmother - and her anger at her mother marrying Jacob Painter?

My father told me that he believed his grandmother, Eva, was sickly. He said that his mother, Grace, had to take care of her brothers and sisters, taking over the cooking and other household duties, at the age of 12. And I can believe it, as my grandmother Grace was a power house in running a household. A widow when her youngest of seven children was just three years old, my father told me they had no bills growing up. No electricity, water, or phone bills!

Grace reared her children in the rural community of Alfordsville, Indiana, which at the time was a bustling community with its own school and general store. Many of the men of that town worked at the nearby Crane Naval Base, and a bus picked them up every morning. My father sings of a happy childhood filled with friends and neighbors, pick-up basketball games, and one school that served the entire community. He also dimly speaks of being forbidden food between meals - even a cracker - and how he fell down one day and hit his head, drawing blood and seeing stars, and was too afraid to tell anyone. He hid for hours until the dizziness passed.

Not having an income, except for a small pension from the Methodist Church, Grace grew and canned all their vegetables. It wouldn't surprise me if she made her own butter. She kept chickens but not a cow. Grace was an excellent cook, and we all stuffed ourselves with her yeast rolls and dumplings whenever we visited her at her final residence in Loogootee, Indiana.

Eva in her last days
Carolyn Ann Howard Family Collection

Eva's first husband, Hickman, died in 1920. I'm pretty sure Eva got the house they lived in, because I remember my dad talking about how his mother got the house when Eva died. Apparently this was a source of contention within the family.  Eva received a small settlement from her husband's death, about $600. She waited six years before remarrying her brother-in-law, and she might have jumped at the chance to improve her situation. Jacob Painter offered her, at the least, stability and at best, which I believe he was, a companion.

After marrying Jacob Painter, she moved in with him in French Lick, Indiana. Did her house in Newton Stewart stay empty? I don't know. But there, in French Lick, in 1930, she watched as her 26-year-old daughter, Esther, died. Once shrouded in mystery, we now know she died from typhoid fever. Her obit states she was rejoicing and singing hymns as she died, which I doubt. I take little comfort that Esther was, at least, with her mom as she died.

Three years later, Jacob Painter died. My great grandmother Eva was then shuffled back to her daughter and son-in-law's home in Union, Indiana. My father, who was born in 1929, remembered Eva living with them. Eva died shortly after her husband, two days before Christmas Day, 1934. Her obit states, "She was sick a number of weeks but bore her suffering patiently till death relieved her and her spirit took its flight." That sounds like something my grandmother would have written.

My grandmother Grace perhaps had the last word. Using the weather as an excuse to keep Eva's body from being taken to the cemetery in Newton Stewart, to be buried with her first husband, Hickman, Grace had the body taken to Loogootee, IN, where she had a plot of six graves. Already buried in that plot were her sister, Esther, and a daughter who died as an infant. Newton Stewart would've been about a drive of 1 hour and 15 minutes today. Loogootee was not much better at an hour from Union, Indiana. Perhaps the roads were better? Perhaps, in the end, Grace wanted to keep her beloved family close?

Whatever the reason, my grandmother took total charge. Her mother is buried next to her and the name on the stone? It should've been Eva Painter. Instead, it says Amanda Carroll, using Eva's legal first name and the last name of her first husband. Such are the nightmares of a genealogist!

Jacob Painter is buried with his first wife, Hickman's sister, Sarah, in Wickliffe Cemetery, Crawford County, Indiana.

© 2022 by December Moonlight Publishing, LLC

John Godfrey Howard's granddaughter, Mary Jeanette

Johann Gottfried Hauer (John Godfrey Howard) Family Line

Mary Jeanette Howard Odell (1844-1917)

____________________

by Carolyn Ann Howard

This post was updated 15 Aug 2021

Jeanette Howard was the granddaughter of John Godfrey Howard, but she never knew her grandfather and perhaps not her grandmother, either. Jeanette was born 12 Jun 1844 most likely in Grafton, New York. John Godfrey left Grafton in or around 1831 with his wife, three of his sons, and their families. He died in 1834. Godfrey's wife, Susannah, remarried, was again widowed, and died in 1863. I don't know if Susannah ever returned to Grafton to visit with her other sons and daughters. Jeanette's parents were John Godfrey Howard II and Sybil Burdick. Jeanette was the youngest of at least 7 children.

Working through the 1850 United States census record, Jeanette was living with her family in Grafton, New York. Same for the 1855 New York state census. Its interesting, however, that in 1860 at the age of 17, she is not living with her parents but with her sister, Maria Howard Tilley and family. Wonder why? It could be that she was helping her sister and brother-in-law care for their children. Maria had just had a son, John W., who was 11 months old at the time of the census. We know he died young, so perhaps he was a sickly child. And it could just be that Jeanette was at her sister's house when the census enumerator visited, and he counted her there instead of at her parent's home.

What is striking, working through these census records, is how tight-knit these 1800 communities were. On the 1860 census of Grafton, we see the same names over and over. Howard, Tilley, Covey, Burdick, Sweet, and Odell. What is also striking is how tragedies could drive families to be even more united. Many families in the 1800s were large. This ensured safety, security, and care. This is what our forebear, Abraham Howard, forfeited when he left his Howard family in New York to bring his wife and children into southwestern Indiana. Abraham's son, Henry's antics further divided our Howard line, not to mention the effects of the Civil War with the death of Abraham II and the debilitation of Eleazar Howard.

Back to New York, however. In the 1860 census, Jeanette is listed as a seamstress, a noble profession.  In the 1865 New York state census, Jeanette was listed as Mary Odell, living at home with her parents, John and Sybil. Interestingly, this census listed how many children someone had, and it stated Sybil had 12 children. I currently only have 7 of these on my Ancestry public tree. This census also showed that Mary Odell has been married once and was now a widow. She was 20. Click on photos to enlarge

Beautiful Mary Jeanette Howard
with her husband, Lewis Odell
Courtesy: Ancestry

This story - maybe a love story, maybe not - might have begun with the death of Lewis Odell's parents before the census year of 1860. Lewis in 1860 lived with his brother, William Odell, and his wife, Eunice Howard Odell, Jeanette's older sister. Jeanette Howard and Lewis Odell were married in 1862. Shortly thereafter, Lewis left home to fight in the Civil War. He was 19. He would never come back, dying of pneumonia 16 Jan 1865. Another tragedy of this bloody war. How did the many widows of the Civil War feel being widowed at young ages? Or even old ages for that matter?

Jeanette had still not remarried by the 1870 census, living at home with her parents, but by the 1875 New York census, she was married to Harmon Snyder and lived together with Harmon's brother, Levi, Levi's wife, and their two sons. Harmon and his brother were listed as farmers within the city limits of Grafton. Interestingly, the census states they lived in a frame home that was worth $500.

In the 1880 United States census, Jeanette and her husband lived together, he as a farmer and she as "keeping house." One line down was Jeanette's father and mother. Both family's dwelling number was 42, so therefore, it appears John Godfrey II and Sybil  lived with them and was likely being cared for by Jeanette. Also with them was a 16-year-old niece Ella Burdick. Her occupation was that of a shirtmaker. This was a common occupation for women at that time.

The next record we have is the 1900 US census. Jeanette's husband, Harmon, was dead already, so at the age of 50, Jeanette has now been widowed twice. In the 1900 census, she still lived with Ella Burdick. She was also the same household number as John Carringer, who had been a boarder of hers on a previous census. Interesting. John Carringer's wife was a shirtmaker. Neither Jeanette nor Ella have occupations listed. Neither women has had any children.

In the 1910 census, we come full circle, as Jeanette lived once again with her sister, Eunice, and her husband, Jeanette's brother-in-law, William Odell. Its so nice to see sisters who are close and taking care of one another. It feels Jeanette has always had family to care for or to care for her. Just on this fact alone, I believe Jeanette was a wonderful, caring individual.

Jeanette applied for a pension after her first husband died in the Civil War. I do not know how much she received for this pension, but probably somewhere around $8.00 a month.

Funeral of Jeanette M. Howard Snyder 

As It Appears in The Semi-Weekly Times, Troy, NY 

Friday Afternoon, June 15, 1917 

The funeral of Jeanette Snyder was held from the Grafton Methodist Church Wednesday at 2 o'clock. Rev. David Paton officiated, assisted by Rev. Mr. White. Violet O'Dell, Mrs. Sherman Barnhart, Willie Wood and Curtis O'Dell rendered "Face to Face," "Shall We Gather at the River?" and "It Is Well With My Soul." The bearers were William O'Dell, Justice Wesley O. Howard, John Patterson and John Simon. The survivors are a brother and sister, Elijah Howard and Mrs. Eunice Odell. The floral tributes were many. Interment was in Grafton Cemetery.

© 2022 by December Moonlight Publishing, LLC