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Ancestors - Page Text Content

S: Ancestors

FC: Tradition means giving votes to the most obscure of all classes, our ancestors. It is the democracy of the dead. Tradition refuses to submit to the small and arrogant oligarchy of those who merely happen to be walking about. G.K.Chesterton, Orthodoxy

1: Pat & Sister Lynn Buthod Brian & Sister Shannon Reed | “Bricks and mortar make a house, but the laughter of children makes a home” - Irish Proverb

3: Great Grandparents | Grandparents | Parents | Great, Great Grandparents | James daughter, Vern, destroyed his photos soon after he died because she she thought it would upset Julia to see them. Another sister saved one but it can't be found.

4: Etier | Dougherty | Buthod | Butler | Dolan | Beck | Brady

7: Andre Joseph Buthod-Cuam was born in Savoy, France in 1781. He was a stone mason, but spent the last 15 years of his life in total blindness. John Baptiste Buthod, born in Savoy, France in 1848, as a young boy often led his grandfather around the village of Mont Valzan. | Pierre Buthod emigrated to the US in 1855 at 39 years old. Felicienne and three children (including John Baptiste) did not arrive until 1857 at 37 years old in the company of her brother Jean Francois Sage (Frank) and his son, Ferdinand. They landed in New Orleans. They and Pierre came up the Mississippi and settled in Osage County, MO, at Caddy Creek, now known as Loose Creek, which is about 100 miles west of St. Louis. After arriving in the US, two other children were born. Frank returned to France in 1858 and never returned to the US. Ferdinand lived for a time with Pierre. When he died, he left two daughters, Caroline and Mathilda. Caroline was reared by Victor (Brother of John Baptiste). Mathilda was reared by Rosalie (Spinster sister of John Baptiste). Both girls married Reinkemeyer boys. | One of the daughters of Andre Joseph Buthod-Cuam was a Sister of Charity and taught in a convent at Paris. | Pierre Buthod was a teacher and taught for 2 years (1840-41) at the age of 24-25) in the village, but due to an argument with the village priest, he resigned and having no other occupation, decided to emigrate to the U.S. He was a profound student, especially of mathematics and had excellent penmanship. | The Marriage Certificate between Andre Joseph Buthod-Cuam (32) and Marie Angelique Morard Blanc (25) dated 4/28/1813 was not signed by Genevieve Suzeni, Marie Angelique Morard Blanc and Andreanne Buthod Georgeat because they were illiterate. Andre and Marie were third cousins and had to obtain dispensation to marry. | Louise Bogard was pregnant with Mary Jeoffroy at the time they came to the US in 1855.

8: In the name of God, Amen. This is my last Will and Testament. I, Felicienne Sage, being of sound mind and memory dispose of my personal estate, in the following manner, to wit: First: To my children, John, Louise, Theresa and Victor, I give and bequeath to each one the sum of one dollar. Secondly: I will, bequeath and give to my child, Rosalie, all my household furniture, such as bed-stead, beds, tables, chairs, stoves, wardrobes, sewing machine, dishes, clothes, my share in cattle on the farm, also the money loaned on notes or otherwise belonging to me. Thirdly: I hereby appoint my child Rosalie executor of my last will and testament and ask the court not to demand any security of her for the faithful performance of this my last will. Loose Creek, Osage County, MO., December 4, 1890 | Felicienne lived 17 years after Pierre's death and signed her name as Felleseinne. Rosalie never married,

9: Louise (Sister of John Baptiste) b. 1852 d. 1932 married (in 1880) Wilhelm Henry Schaeffers b. 1831 d, 1910 and had 9 children. Wilhelm left Germany in 1850. He became AWOL soldier in the German militia and had to be smuggled out of the country by his mother, sister and brothers. It is said that he walked backward in the snow at night in order to fool the searchers. Then in order to get onto the steamship, he hid under clothing in a trunk and later under his mother's long skirt until they were far out to sea. His girl friend, Anna MArgaret Gertrude Simon b. 1836 d. 1877, whom he later married in 1857, was also on the ship. At sea they were often followed by whales and it took about nine weeks to get to America. Port of entry was New Orleans. They came up the Mississippi to St. Louis, then west of Loose Creek. William and Anna had several children die young, including one that died after drinking kerosene. They had 9 children in all. | Victor (Brother of John Baptiste) b. 1864 m. 1886 (22) d. 1945 in Loose Creek, MO. Married Marie Elizabeth Durrand b. 1867 m. 1886 (19) d. 1942. Marie was called "Lizzie" by most folks in Loose Creek. They had 10 children. The first was born at the family residence. The sixth child, Mary Estella, was raised by Louise Buthod. This must have been soon after Lizzie Buthod was committed to an insane asylum due to the death of one of her children. Mary kept the old trunk that supposedly was the one that Wm. Henry Schaeffers hid in when he came to the US. Mary married Paul Lajeuness, whose family was somehow part of the Lewis & Clark expedition. | Charles Paul Buthod, son of John Baptiste, b. 8/17/1885 in Linn, MO, d. 4/11/1982 in Tulsa, OK. Married Beulah Butler 6/4/1914. She was born 1/1/1886 in Goff, KS and died 3/10/1975 in Tulsa, OK. She was a happy lady. I (Lynn Buthod Reed) remember her walking around her house with her rosary. I "prayed" to her silently on her death bed that when she got to heaven she would find a way for George and me to be married. We were married on 6/12/1975. Charles married Mary Pierceall in 1977 at 92. She was born 2/11/1914 in Vinita, OK. Mary loved to travel. She took a long trip to Oregon and California and Grandpa (Charles) lamented how much he missed her. He must have loved her very much.

10: The John Baptiste Buthod Family | Children of John and Mary: Louise (1875) (Lulu married Joseph Frank Reinkemeyer in photo, daughter, Florence is first of 7 children), Elizabeth (1877-1889) not shown, Francis Peter (1880-1889) not shown, Louis Edward (1883), Charles Paul (1885), Maria Josephine AKA Mamie (1888), Victor John (1890), Florence Caroline (1893), William Emil (1896), Paul Joseph (1899 Not born yet) | Charles is 1st boy standing.

11: Notes from Victor Buthod (Brother of Charles Buthod): John Baptiste Buthod married Mary Jeoffroy and they settled at Loose Creek and later moved to a farm about three miles west of Linn, in Osage County, MO. About the year 1899, John Baptiste moved to OK. I well remember the trip. The family was transported from Linn to Bonnot's Mill in a covered hack. It was one of the coldest days in the history of MO and we had to stop 2 or 3 times at farmhouses along the 13 mile route to get warm. When we arrived at Bonnot's Mill, we stayed at the hotel over night and boarded the MO Pacific train the next day to Hennessey, OK. This was my first site of a railroad train as we had lived some 15 miles from a railroad on the old farm. August Jeffroy, my uncle, met us at Hennessey and took the family to his home in a covered wagon, about 1 and 1/2 miles from the farm that my father had purchased. Uncle August had only a two room house and I do not have the vaguest idea how our large family slept that night. We were soon established in our new home, which was a 4 room, unpainted frame house, which was above the average home for that time and locality. The farm was a level tract of 160 acres, with about 20 acres of black jack timber, the balance prairie land. My father immediately set out a large orchard and vineyard, and during all of his life on this farm, he devoted most of his time to raising fruits and vegetables, while the sons did the extensive farm work. About the year 1912 at age 64, my father moved to Bison, OK where he bought a house and about 5 acres of land. Continuing his interest in orchards, he planted a large number of trees and had a nice orchard as long as he lived (age 81). My mother died in 1928, my father died a year later. They are both resting in the little Catholic cemetery near Bison, OK. | Leo is the son of William Emil | When Paul Buthod was growing up, he knew his grandfather, but his grandmother was sickly and stayed in bed.

12: Clockwise: Charles Buthod & his 4 kids; Beulah holding Helen, Jack, Agnes Reinkenmeyer Lawhorn (Lulu's Daughter) & Paul. Agnes lived with Charles & Beulah while she was going to high school. When she married Curly, they rented a room with Charles & Beulah for a while. Clem & Lillian Reinkenmeyer (Lulu's | son); They lived before Butlers next door to Chas Buthod Family on E. 1st St.; Charles, Jenny, Beulah & Uncle Vic; Flo with daughters, Patsy & Helen;

13: I was born 10/24/1929, the youngest child of Victor (Brother of Charles Paul Buthod) and Louise Brightman Buthod. I do not remember too much of my early childhood. However, my impression is that I was a rather shy, quiet child. Dad and Mother were good, loving parents who fostered learning, imagination and spiritual values. By necessity they were very flexible people. We had to move many times as Dad's work changed. He strived very hard to provide adequately for the family. During my senior year in high school, I felt a nudge towards religious life. At first, I refused to recognize God's nudge. Nevertheless, the call to religious life persisted. On 2/2/1949, I entered the Congregation of the Sisters of Providence. Perpetual vows were made on 8/15/1956. These were big events for me, as well as for the family. Presently, I am beginning my seventh year as a missionary of the Edmondite Southern Missions in Selma, AL. Throughout the years, family has remained an essential part of my life. I try to visit the family about twice a year and I look forward to these gathering times. I have loved watching my nieces and nephews grow up, and now the arrival of great nieces and nephews bring additional joy. My years have been happy ones, filling me with a sense of gratitude for my family, my faith, my Congregation of the Sisters of Providence and so many other gifts given me freely throughout life. | Susanne Louise Buthod, S.P. | Middle: Grandpa, Paul & Jack; Right: Helen & Paul | Uncle Jack Buthod | Charles Buthod | Charles Buthod used to go hunting for dinner. His little sister, Mamie, went with him one day. The shotgun accidentally discharged and Mamie was hit in the hip bone. She was 9 years old. After she recovered, she walked with a limp. She died from an infection at 37. Charles had an older brother, Francis, and sister, Elizabeth, who died of typhoid fever in the same week when they were 9 and 12.

14: John Baptiste Buthod married Mary Jeoffroy. They settled at Loose Creek and later moved to a farm about three miles West of Linn, in Osage County, MO. Mary Jeoffroy was the daughter of Louise and Peter Jeoffroy, who were also emigrants from France, in the vicinity of Nancy. They first settled near East St. Louis, IL, where Peter became a coal miner. Later, they moved to a farm between Linn and Richfountain, in Osage County, MO. | Lulu Buthod, the eldest child, married Joseph Reinkemeyer. Joseph was a brother to Peter and John, who married Caroline and Matilda Sage. Joseph worked in Linn, MO, in the bank there and also as a clerk and book-keeper for Fink's general store in Linn. | Charles Paul Buthod, second son of John Baptiste and Mary Jeoffroy married Beulah Butler. They had been classmates at what was then Central State Normal at Edmond, OK. After graduating from this school, they lived at Norman, OK, and graduated from there at the University. After that, they took post graduate courses at Berkeley, CA, Denver, CO and Chicago, IL. | Arthur Paul Buthod, son of Charles & Beulah, married Mary Rudelle Dougherty and settled in Tulsa, OK. He is a graduate of the University of Tulsa; held fellowship under Socony-Vaccum, worked for Pure Oil Company in Chicago; then became a member of the faculty of TU, where he taught chemical and petroleum engineering for 38 years. | Mary Josephine Buthod, daughter of John Baptiste and Mary Jeoffroy, married Edward Stevens. She died about the year 1925 in El Reno, OK, where she rests in the Catholic cemetery there. They had two children. Mary Alice, who died about the year 1937, in her teens, and Vincent Stevens, who served for many years in the US Air Force. | Victor John, son of John Baptiste and Mary Jeoffroy, married Louise Brightman in Del Rio, TX, while serving with the 14th US Cavalry. They had 4 named children, one of which, Suzanne Louise Buthod, entered the convent of the Sisters of Providence at Terre Haute. She took the name Sister Mary Judith. | Louis Edward Buthod, eldest son of John Baptiste and Mary Jeoffroy, married Marion Conklin of Canton, IL in 1931. For many years he was a teacher in business college and in the business departments of various high schools. He lived in El Paso for at least 25 years. His wife, Marion, maintains a home in Canton, IL.

15: Holy Family Cathedral was competed in April 1914. Beulah & Charles were married June 4, 1914. They were the first couple married in the new Cathedral! | Florence Caroline Buthod, daughter of John Baptiste and Mary, married Frank Morrison April 10, 1929. Frank died October 10, 1935 and she has not remarried and lives in Enid, OK. They had two children. | Charles Buthod taught and was Principal at Celia Clinton (Harvard between Pine and Apache) in the Tulsa Public Schools for many years, until the Ku Klux Klan became very active in the community. As a result, all the Catholic teachers and administrator were dismissed from their positions in the Public Schools. The KKK even burned a cross across the street from St. Francis Church. Charles & his family lived on that block. Charles eventually became principal at Holy Family School. | William Emil, son of John Baptiste & Mary Jeoffroy, married Mary Semrad at Bison, OK. They lived on a farm for several years, then moved to Tulsa on a farm between Tulsa and Sand Springs. They had 4 children. Mary died and he remarried to Bonnie. He would deliver milk to the Paul Buthod Household. | Paul Joseph Buthod married Leota Hutchinson, and they live in Enid, OK. They have no children. Leota is manager of an insurance company, while Paul is a contractor. For a number of years he was in the salvage business.

16: The Charles Buthod Family | Above: Beulah Ellen, Charles Paul & Arthur Paul Left: Paul, Mary Rose, Jack & Helen | Grandpa Charles Buthod was the Grand Knight or head of the local Knights of Columbus, the world's largest Catholic family fraternal service organization. | My dad, Paul Buthod, is a saint. I love to visit him because when I do, we always start the day by praying 2 rosaries beginning at 6 AM, have breakfast, then say a third rosary before the Tabernacle. Then we open the fudge, turn on Rush Limbaugh, visit and work on a jigsaw puzzle all afternoon. He tapes classic movies that we watch in the evenings. Finally, we watch a little Fox News and go to bed.

17: Clockwise: Jack, Paul, Mary Rose, Charles, Helen, & Beulah; Charles Buthod & his class; Grandma Beulah, Paul, Mary Rose, Helen & Jack

18: Above: Grandma Beulah & Grandpa Charles; Below: Grandma Mary Buthod, Sister Mary Clare & Lynn: Baby Paul Buthod | The Charles Buthod Family lived on Waverly Drive. When Paul returned from Chicago, he lived there during graduate school until he got married. The house was torn down when they built a highway, probably I-244.

19: Grandma Beulah Buthod and Grandma Mary Buthod knew each other from St. Francis Church and were friends. I used to take Brian & Shannon to visit Mary when they were young. We had a wonderful time visiting, mostly about politics and religion. I remember that she would watch C-span with the volume turned up very loud because she was hard of hearing, but she would turn it off when I came to visit. Mary once told me a heartbreaking story of when the doctor used forceps to deliver her baby and killed him. Then they wouldn't let her hold him because they thought she would bond more if she held him. She still grieved after all those years over the death of her son. Mary was a member of the Legion of Mary and said the rosary continuously. She cherished and used the carved cane that Grandpa (Charles) had, but someone stole it in the nursing home. That made her very sad. | Above: Helen, Grandpa Charles, Mary Rose. Below: Grandpa, Paul, Mary Rose, Jack Grandpa had a cow that they kept in the shed that the kids are on. The cow got hydrophobia and the kids all had to get rabies shots in the stomach because they had drunk the milk from the cow.

20: Top: Grandpa, Kathleen H, Sharon H, Marilyn G, Michelle B, Barbara B, Eileen G, Diane B, Alice, Ruth, Ann G, John G, Ellen, Lynn, Mary. Row 2: Therese, Grandma, Martin G, Theo G, Craig B, Susan H, Pat, Ricky B, Janet G, Ralph G, Row 3: Margaret H, Robert H, Kevin H, Donnie B ~1958. Bottom left: The John Hayes Family. Bottom right: The Jack Buthod Family.

21: An elderly TU professor once said that Helen was the best student he ever had in all his years of teaching! | Arthur Paul & Mary Rudelle Buthod 1. Mary Margaret b. 6/5/1944 - Tulsa 2. Ellen Ann (Sister Mary Clare, O.S.B.) b. 8/20/45 3. Ruth Helen Buthod b. 1/22/1948 4. Alice Elaine b. 7/19/1950 5. Patrick Joseph b. 3/7/1953 d. 4/16/1964 6. Lynn Theresa b. 2/2/1956 7. Paula Denise b. 1/3/1959 8. William Anthony b. 4/16/1965 Jack & Rosaleen Buthod 1. Mary Barbara b. 3/23/1949 - Tulsa 2. Diane Patrice b. 9/5/1950 3. Maureen Elizabeth b. 12/6/1951 4. Donald John b. 4/1/1953 5. Joseph Craig b. 6/13/1954 6. Richard Brady b. 8/12/1955 7. Ellin Therese b. 9/17/1956 8. Michele Holland b. 12/26/1957 9. Anne Marie b. 3/24/1959 10. Lee Butler b. 7/13/1961 11. Charles Tynan b. 6/30/1963 12. Timothy Eric b. 6/28/1965 | Mary Rose & Charles Grummer 1. John Charles b. 6/4/1947 - Tulsa 2. Ann Elizabeth b. 8/24/1948 - Albuquerque 3. Eileen Marie b. 8/11/1949 - Albuquerque 4. Marilyn Therese b. 2/2/1951 - Albuquerque 5. Theodore Joseph b. 10/1/1952 - Endicott, NY d. 7/21/1986 m. 6/21/1981 Downs Baby 6. Janet Rose b. 7/15/1954 - Albuquerque 7. Ralph Gerard 6/24/1955 - Roswell 8. Martin Francis b. 5/11/1957 - Roswell 9. Judith Carol b. 9/18/1962 - Roswell 10. Larry Michael b. 5/2/1964 - Albuquerque Helen & John Hayes 1. Kathleen Frances b. 12/3/1948 2. James Kevin b. 4/22/1950 3. Robert Alan b. 1/9/1952 4. Susan Elizabeth b. 3/6/1953 5. Margaret Patricia b. 6/13/1954 6. Sharon Maureen b. 3/16/1958 7. Michael Steven b. 2/18/1963 8. Elizabeth Anne b. 6/16/1965 | Helen & John Hayes, Paul, Jack, Rosaleen Buthod | Below: Jack & Paul Buthod

22: Arthur Paul | Ellen (SMC), Ruth, Bill, Mary, Alice, Lynn, Paula. Pat was tragically killed by a car on 3rd St. when he was 11 and bicycling with friends on 8/31/1964, the first day of school. | Mary Rudelle | The Paul Buthod Family | Married at St. Patrick's Church in Sand Springs on 6/4/1943. Met at the Catholic Activities Group at the Knights of Columbus Hall in Nov. 1942. Grandma & Grandpa D & Grace came to the Wedding by train.

23: Mom's Education Lived at Hinton, OK 1-8: 1 mile south of home near Hinton (Salutatorian of Senior Class at age 16) College: Southwestern State College Masters: OSU, Stillwater, OK Taught at age 19 Sugar Creek, S. of Hinton for 7 years Pond Creek for 1/2 year Sand Springs for 1 year Tulsa Public Schools for 1 year after marriage | Dad's Education Lived at 1235 Quaker K-1: Lincoln Elementary near 15th & Trenton 2: Sacred Heart now Christ the King Lived at Admiral & Memorial 3: Home School 4. Holy Family Lived at East 1st Street 5-8: St. Francis 9-12: Marquette High School College: Tulsa University for BS Lived on Waverly Drive College: Tulsa University for MS Taught at TU for 39 yeasrs | Daddy & SMC | Jack & Rosaleen Buthod | John & Helen Hayes

24: Kitty Brady died in the early 1900's and Eugene P. White remarried her sister Alice, who was widowed from Eddie Tobin. After E.P. White died in 1919, John Brady lived with his daughter Alice until 1922, when they moved back to Quebec and lived with another daughter, Isabelle Renihan, where he died in 1927. | Barnie & Mary married in the Church of England in QC, near the Vermont border, on August 22, 1822 because there was no priest available. They were married by Catholic Missionaries on January 30, 1832. | Lineage

25: Bernard and Mary were from Ireland, most likely County Cavan. They were buried in the Ste Rose de Lima parish cemetery in Cowansville, QC, near Sweetsburg. | John Brady (1831-1927) 96 years old Ellen Fealey (1832-1904) 72 years old 1. Isabel (Belle) (1861-1935) 74 years old James Renihan (d. 1935) Lulu Ellen (1883-1906) 23 years old Mary Alice (Daisy) (1885-?) m. John Campbell Winnifred (1887-?) m. James Campbell Grace (1918) Died in childbirth Laurence (1899-1918) Died of appendicitis Grace 2. Nellie (1863-1935) 72 years old Daniel Butler (1849-1926) 77 years old Arthur - Born in CA Mabel d. 12/1963 Born in KS Beulah (1888-1975) Born in KS m Charles Buthod ('85-'82) Jennie (1890-5/1972) Died from Parkinsons Rose (Sister M. Evangelista) Died from TB 3. Alice (1865-1939) Edward Tobin Julia (Sister M. Theophane) Isabel (Sister Isabel) Carmelite Eugene P. White (1853-1919) Eva Mac Campbell (d. 1925) 4. John (1865-?) Geneva Montle (1864-1944) 5. Catherine (Kitty) (1866-1889) Eugene P. White (1853-1919) Bessie | Bernard (Barney) Brady (b. 1790 m. 1822 m. 1832 d. 1880) Mary McHenry (b. 1793 d. 1882) | 6. Willie (died in infancy) 7. Rose (1869-?) John (Jack) Barker 8. William (1872-1953) Annie Hines d 1918 in childbirth Arthur (1902-1947) David (1904-?) John (1906-?) William (1915-?) 9. Arthur (1872-1940) Bertha Brown 10. Jennie (died at about three years old) 11. Caroline Sarah (Carrie) (Sister Gertrude Clare) (18??-1919) Died after Appendicitis Operation. | Kathleen Barker (Sister Francoise Therese | Margaret Agnes (Sister Margaret) (1918-1962) died suddenly

26: March 19, 1883 Sweetsburg, Quebec | Dear Sister Nellie, What I have to tell you in this letter will be a great blow to you, Nell, I am sure, as it was to us all. Kittie (Nellie's sister) died last Friday afternoon. We had little hopes of her ever getting better, but had no thought of her going so soon. Mother and Alice and Aunt Mary were here alone with her when she died. The priest was here in the morning and anointed her, but he thought she would live a month longer, at least. We have one great comfort, Nellie, she was at home with us and we all did all we could for her, and I'm sure no one ever had a happier or easier death. She talked up to within three minutes of her death and told all she wanted done and said she was willing to die since it was the will of God to take her. She will be buried this afternoon in St. Johnsburg. She wanted to be buried there. They took her away yesterday morning on the nine o'clock train. I wish we were all as sure of heaven as we are sure that she is there today. Nell, you mustn't feel too bad, for she is far better off than she was before. Bessie is quite well except for a little cold. Poor baby, she little knows what a loss she has had, but I suppose it is all for the best. If you and Belle could only have been here. Well, dear sister, I will not try to write anymore this time, but some of us will write soon again, Kiss all the little ones for me. Rosa Brady (Nellie's Sister) PS: She died the 8th. That fever she had in the fall threw her into the consumption of the bowels. | 6 Bennet Street Lawrence, Mass. February 10, 1889 | September 6, 1911 Dear Aunt Nellie, Just a little note to say good-bye to you and all the family. I am going to enter the Convent the eighth of September, next Friday. Aunt Carrie (Nellie's youngest sister), now Sister Gertrude Clare, is waiting to receive me in the novitiate. With a great deal of love to Uncle Dan, all my cousins, and your own dear self, and with hopes of an occasional remembrance in your prayers, I am as ever, Your loving niece, Julie (Daughter of Nellie's sister, Alice Tobin, became Sister Theophane)

27: West Shefford, Quebec, March 31, 1918 Brother and Sister Dear: Your letter with its sad tidings reached us last evening and was a great shock to us all. Our heartfelt sympathy goes out to you and all your dear ones in this your first great sorrow. But why should we grieve for those that are called to their bright home above? What more can we ask for our loved ones? I am sure dear little Rose is today enjoying her happiest Easter. Well, dear, we all have our troubles. Three weeks tomorrow Winnie (Belle's daughter) sent for me and her little baby girl was born that night, but did not live at all. Winnie does not gain strength as we could wish her, is not able to sit up in bed, yet, more than ten or fifteen minutes at a time, and today does not feel like sitting up even for a few minutes. Still, we are hoping for the best. A letter from Alice (Nellie's sister) last Sunday reported Gene a little on the gain. I do hope he will soon be himself once more. Alice would indeed be very lonely if Gene is taken from her, as Isabel intends entering a convent next summer if her health permits. Well, dear, I will now say goodbye for a short time. Write when you can. Lovingly, Belle (Nellie's Sister) | Nellie Brady Butler

28: 39 Bleecker Street Newark, N.J. April 28, 1918 Dear Sister Nellie, Since Easter, I have been trying to arouse myself to write to you. Somehow, I have found it difficult to do so, perhaps because the thought of your present "sweet sorrow" had tugged so at my heart strings. Through Isabel (Nellie's sister), I learned of Sister Mary Evangelista's death. May the dear Lord give rest to her young soul. As someone wrote me at the time of Sister M. Theophane's death, "He loves the lambs of His flock." Always have thought of little Sister as being one of the chosen ones, one of His little ones. Happy child! Who would have her back again during these sad, sad times? Had I still her letters, I would gladly send them to you. Generally, however, after reading them I sent them on, either to Rose or Isabel. One of her early letters home, which you sent to me, I am sending back to you. You will treasure it, I am sure. At Christmas, Sister wrote me that she was "not as well as she should be." I suppose she never regained her health after the attack of the year before. When you can, please write me more about her, when you last saw her, and the like. She will be another little intercessor for us all in heaven. Dear me! The world is sad indeed. Some two or three thousand soldiers have just marched by on the way to the depot! Mothers' hearts must be breaking! And yet the sun shines brightly. The Lord's world is still a beautiful place, were it not so marred by human sin and passion. And now, dear sister, with no lack of loving sympathy for you all, and with a sincere hope of hearing sometime from you, I remain as ever, most lovingly, Sister Gertrude Clare (Caroline Sarah, Nellie's youngest sister)

29: Dear Auntie (Nellie) and all, Just a line to tell you that I am leaving tomorrow for a place I have desired for a long time. The Carmelite Convent, Wheeling. Are you surprised? Little Rosie (Sister Evangelista) knew and her prayers have helped me wonderfully. I am sending her last letter. Please pray for me and ask the girls to help. Yours lovingly, Isabel (Alice's daughter, Nellie's niece) | Melrose, Mass Sept 9, 1918 | Ellen Fealey Brady & Rose Brady (Barker) Rose was crippled from a hit and run car accident when she was in her 70's. My dad, Paul Buthod, remembers how upset her husband, Jack, was when it happened.

30: Lawrence, Massachusetts, October 24, 1918 Nellie Dear, Only a few moments while waiting for Bessie to come to her dinner. But if it was only good news I had to write, it would not matter. But it is hard times on Will (Nellie's Brother). Annie (Will's wife) had a baby girl born last Friday in the hospital where Annie had gone to get rested up from a bad cold she had been fighting for a month. She expected her baby about Thanksgiving. She was doing fine from the 12th in the hospital until Friday when her baby came. She had made a miscount. Blood poisoning set in and she died Sunday morning, October 20th. Will phoned me of the baby's arrival (the first I knew of their expectations.) He told me then that Annie was not very well. Then, as I was getting ready for Mass Sunday, I received a special delivery letter, saying there was no hope for Annie. In about half-an-hour after, I received a phone message of her death. Her sister Margaret and I went right to Rockland, and stayed until after the funeral Tuesday. Poor Will, how I pity him and his little family. Annie had a very intimate friend there. She asked Will if he would let her keep the baby for a time, so the child will be well cared for, anyway. They will call her Margaret Agnes. I did not see the baby, as she had not been brought home. Arthur and John (Will's sons) were sick, but it was mostly heartsick ailed the poor lads. Will phoned me Wednesday to see how Gene (Alice's husband) got along while I was away and he said the boys were all better then. Arthur is 16, David, 14, John, 12, and little Billie will be four in April. It will be hard for Will to find a woman willing to come in and take charge over such a crowd of boys. But they are good lads. Gene got along fine while I was away. I have come to the conclusion I just cater to him more than is needed. Arthur (Nellie's brother) and Bertha, Jack, Rose (Nellie's sister) and Kathleen all went down. We all left on the same train Tuesday P.M., and how I hated to leave the poor boy alone with all his cares. He has a woman that comes in every day to help out, but no one to stay. I hope Arthur and Charles will be spared from the War. Did you ever hear tell of so much sickness, trouble and sorrow as there is in the world today? God moves in a mysterious way, surely. Write when you can. Your letters are always so welcome. Kiss Arthur Paul, back of his ear, for his old Auntie. Love and best wishes to one and all from all of us. Lovingly, Sister Alice

31: Dear Brother, Sister (Nellie) and Family, Our dear Laurence (Belle's Son) passed away Sunday afternoon. Do not grieve for us. We have the prayers of all the dear ones who have gone before to help us bear this trial. Also, we know he was well prepared to go. The good life he has lead is a great consolation to us. I can say thanks to the dear Lord for giving us such a son for 19 years and now he has called him home. He had had 2 attacks of appendicitis and last Thursday, he went to Sweetsburg for an operation. It was a success, but his heart was bad and he lived only two days. Mary (his sister) went with him, stayed until Saturday. Sunday morning, whilst at Mass, we got word to go to Sweetsburg. We all went and I was with him to the last. He had as easy a death as you ever saw. Simply the heart was too weak. We had hardly got settled on our little twenty acre farm, having changed our village home for this to be nearer the girls and get away from the village. Laurence had been at home since the first of November, resting up, and, as we supposed, gaining strength for the operation, but it was not to be. The dear Lord called him early from this world of trials and temptation. Pray that we will be as well prepared to go. Belle (Nellie's sister) | Waterloo, Quebec December 18, 1918 | Lawrence, Massachusetts, January 9, 1919 Gene died at 10:30 this morning. He died very peacefully. Alice (Nellie's sister) is very brave. I fear for her when it is all over. Arthur (Nellie's brother), Bessie and Sarah are with her to help, and the nurse with Alice is very fond of her... I am sure God will look out for her, for she has been so faithful to Gene and such a good sister to us all. They think the funeral will be Saturday morning. The arrangements had not been made when I was there. Sister Alice

32: Dear Aunt Nellie, Sister Gertrude Clare (Nellie's youngest sister, Caroline Sarah) died this evening about 8:15. She was so resigned and anxious to go. In the morning, we had hopes, but she grew weaker and weaker. I think she would have been very much disappointed had she recovered. Everything possible was done for her. The funeral will be Monday morning at 10 o'clock from St. Patrick's, Newark, NJ. Pray for her. Bessie (Kitty's daughter) | Newark, NJ Nov. 20, 1919 | Dear Aunt Nellie, Isabel (Belle, Nellie's older sister) died Monday night at eleven thirty. Funeral Thursday morning at nine o'clock from Convent. Aunt Alice saw her Monday afternoon. Bess (Catherine's (Kitty's) daughter) | Melrose Highlands, Mass May 20, 1924 | Jack Barker & Daniel Butler (Brothers-in-law)

33: Dear Aunt Nellie, This is just to tell you that I am going to enter the Convent, November 1st. I am going to enter where Aunt Carrie (Sister Gertrude) was. Mother (Rose Brady) is perfectly willing I should go. It is not a sudden decision on my part because I have thought about it off and on for years. Aunt Carrie and Isabel always thought I had a vocation, but it seemed as if I could not make the step until now. Isn't Grandpa (John Brady) wonderful? I do wish I could see him also before I go. Love to all the Butlers from all the Barkers and Higgins. Lovingly, Kathleen (Barker) | Melrose, Mass. September 6, 1925 | Assumed to be Great Grandma Nellie's Parents, Ellen Fealey & John Brady

34: West Shefford, Quebec August 25, 1927 Dear Sister (Nellie), Father (John Brady) died at 1:00 PM today. The end came very peacefully. He had not been conscious, I believe, for almost two days. In fact, I do not think he has realized much of anything since we arrived on Monday evening. Funeral Saturday morning. How thankful we all are that your visit to him was not postponed. Jack (Barker, Rose's Husband) | West Shefford, Quebec, September 1, 1927 Dear Sister (Nellie) and all your dear ones, Knowing that you will be anxious to hear the particulars of dear Father's last few days, I will write and describe them as well as possible. The Wednesday after you left, he seemed weaker than usual and did not take much nourishment. His bowels were giving some trouble. Thursday he was taken with a bad dysentery and there was bladder trouble besides. He complained very little, but we could see that he was nearing the end. We called the priest, also the doctor, but neither gave any hopes from the first. Jack, Rose (daughter), Arthur (son) and Bessie came Monday. Dad knew them and was so pleased to have Arthur and Rose near him. Arthur only left him to get a few hours sleep one night after he came, or to come over and have his meals here. Father suffered greatly for two days and two nights, but at last passed away like a little child dropping to sleep. None of us can grieve for Father, he was so anxious and willing to go, and we feel that no one could be better prepared to go. Love to all from James and Belle Renihan | Melrose, Mass April 12, 1935 To Mrs. Daniel Butler, Telegram from Jim Campbell just received notifying of the death of James Renihan (Widower of Belle, Nellie's sister) this morning. Funeral Monday at 9 AM. J.T, (Jack) Barker

35: There are no letters concerning the death of Nellie Brady Butler, but it occurred when Arthur Paul Buthod was about 19, sometime in 1936. Helen Buthod, age 10 at the time, remembers her quite well, though she never knew her Grandfather Butler. Helen writes: "She was a sweet, quiet woman and I remember her smiling a lot. I knew my aunts (Jennie & Mabel) and uncle (Arthur) much better and have very happy memories of spending time with them, big family dinners and sleepovers, alone or with my sister Mary Rose. There was a certain scent which I associate with the Butler house. I think it was Cashmere Bouquet soap, which they always used. Since we were the only grandchildren, we were terribly spoiled and their love and concern for us are among the happiest memories of my childhood." | Waterloo, Quebec, April 4, 1939 Dear Mabel (daughter of Daniel and Nellie Butler), Has Uncle Jack wired you the news from West Shefford about Aunt Alice? She passed peacefully away last Friday morning about 11:30 after a brief illness. Her funeral Mass was yesterday morning in West Shefford at 8 o'clock; the remains were taken to Lawrence on the 9:30 train.... Although Auntie had been an invalid so long, still her death came as a shock, as we had not heard of her illness. It is a great consolation to know that she was well prepared, as Father Paulhus came often to see her; she received the last Sacraments, even though her illness was so brief. Hoping you are all enjoying the best of health, dear cousin, I remain, Lovingly, Winnie C. (Daughter of Isabel (Belle) and James Renihan)

36: Lineage | The Irish name Butler is of Norman origin being derived from the le Buitleir family who arrived into Ireland in the twelfth century. They established themselves initially in Counties Kilkenny and Tipperary but have since become widespread throughout the country, except in the Province of Ulster.

37: Daniel Butler with Grandsons, Paul and Jack Buthod | Daniel & Nellie Butler

38: House to the left is where Uncle Arthur and Aunts Mabel and Jennie lived. House to the right is where the Paul Buthod family lived after buying it from Grandpa Charles & Grandma Beulah who moved their family to the house on E. 2nd St. | Below: Arthur, Beulah, Rose, Mabel & Jenny Below: Mabel & Beulah. | Charles & Beulah Buthod

39: 1. Susannah (1837-1923) Patrick Corcoran (?-1891) Arthur m. Agnes (Aggie) Savage Curtis, Jimmie, Clare, Lawrence (died in a graveyard) Johnnie Jennie Ed Sarah Thomas Annie Nora 2. Patrick (1839-1887) 3. James (1839-1923) Eliza Curley (1842-1925) Frank (1872-1936) James (1877-1912) Jennie (1875-1915) Alice (1873-1898) Sarah (Sadie) (1875-1926) (died after being thrown from a buggy) Edwin Patrick (1881-1883) Patrick Robert (died in infancy) 4. Elizabeth (Nellie) (1841-1918) James McLaughlin William James Sarah Clara m. Orin Lavery Margaret Nellie | Patrick Butler, b. 3/17/1802 in King's County, Ireland, d. 3/13/1883 Sarah McNeill, b. 6/19/1810 in Queens County, Quebec, d. 2/15/1899 | 5. Mary (1843-1916) Frank Sheridan John Patrick Maggie Lizzie Sarah Lillian Gertrude 6. John (1845-1921) Fell & broke both wrists Ellen (Nellie) O'Connor (1869-1932) Emmett Gertrude Mary Helen 7. Sarah (1847-1919) Charles O'Rourke 8. Daniel (7/31/1849-10/17/1926) Nellie Brady (6/14/1864-10/22/1935) Arthur Mabel Beulah m. Charles Buthod Jennie Rose (Sister M. Evangelista) 9. Jennie (1852-1887) John Murphy Cora (Mother St. George b. 12/21/1879) George (b. 1881) Beatrice (Sr. Mary Agnes b. 9/24/1883) Byron Edward (1885) Jessica Cecelia b. 4/18/1887 d. 5/5/1887 Jennie Ann b. 4/18/1887 d. 5/5/1887 | Jennie's twins lived only 3 weeks. | When relatives visited in the 1920's, they would camp out along the way because there were no hotels.

40: My Dear Brother and Sister (Daniel and Nellie), I thought it my duty to try and write a few lines, as they might be some consolation to the only one of the family who was so situated as to make it impossible to be present at the last sad rites to a dear Father. He had been as well as usual and, in fact, rather better for the last two weeks... He spoke to Mother just before she left the room to call us, but it was the last time, although I think he knew us all for 20 minutes after we came down... We had been having a fearful storm, the worst we have had all winder. The roads were drifted most fearfully, but, notwithstanding the bad weather and poor roads, it was the largest funeral procession that was ever in those parts. Our priest did all that lay in his power to give Father all the honor that he possibly could. He had the church heavily draped from one end to the other and left it so until after Mass yesterday and took Father's death as the subject of his sermon. There were 10 priests at the funeral...Mother has not been well, but went to the funeral. She has been in bed most of the time since, until this afternoon. She has been sitting up and appears to feel better. Aunt Ellen is here and we intend to try to keep her as long as we can, as she can do so much more with Mother than the rest of us, but I feer we cannot keep her long as her husband is not well and she frets about him a great deal. Write soon to your loving sister, Sarah Butler (Daniel's sister) P.S. I have pressed the flowers that were on the coffin, and when dry enough will send you a few. I will send them with paper and we have had the cross and wreathe photographed. John will send you one. | March 19, 1883 Sweetsburg, Quebec | Holy Card that was distributed on the death of Sarah McNeill Butler | Beulah & Her Class. She taught before she was married until Paul was born.

41: Dear Brother and Sister (Daniel and Nellie), You can barely imagine how surprised I was when we received your letter, as we thought you had forgotten your had a sister Jennie, as we had never received an answer to our letter of last May. But now, dear Brother and Sister, accept our best wishes for your son (Uncle Arthur Butler). May he live to be a comfort to you both. I was quite surprised when I heard the news, as you said you did not acquaint your friends of the good news, but it appears some of our friends got a hint of it as Mother says she did not wish to discourage John (Daniel's Brother) and Nell, so she thought she would not say anything about it until the good news arrived. Our temperance retreat and forty days was top have begum today and last until next Thursday, but the Jesuit Father who was to preach the retreat was taken sick last week, so it has been postponed. You can see we will all be very pious after attending church twice a day for a whole week. P. Corcoran and Susannah (Sister of Patrick Butler) were here last Tuesday night. Johnnie took them and their sleigh in his wagon as far as Father's on Wednesday, then they left their sleigh at Father's and went home with a wagon. It is very pleasant here today. There has quite a few tapped their sugar woods. They say the sap ran quite well yesterday and today...We join in sending our love to you both, From your sister, Jennie Murphy (Daniel's Sister) | Mother Home, Our Lady of Providence, San Antonio, TX December 17, 1913 My very dear parents, Merry Christmas, Papa, Mama, Arthur, Mabel, Beulah and Jennie. Merry, Merry Christmas! I can imagine to myself Arthur poring over a list of books, wondering which would be good, Mabel stealthily stitching a dainty little something, Papa hiding an alarm clock in the desk (which suddenly goes off in the stilly depth of the night), Mama making a pretty pink dress for a brand new doll that goes to sleep, Beulah and Jennie filling little pink stockings with goodies and Best Wishes for their numberless little ones. Deary me, what odd reminiscences. We have been having a very joyful week. On the Immaculate Conception, twelve Postulates received the Holy Habit and joined us. The following day, nine of our companions pronounced their vows and received the Black Veil... We had a beautiful service last Sunday evening at the close of the retreat. It was in honor of the Blessed Mother and included an act of consecration to her. Rev. Father Shaw, a Redemptorist from Kansas City, who gave the retreat, has such a great devotion to Mary. Although we were not in retreat, Rev. Mother allowed us to attend the sermons, which were grand. I am sure Jennie would have enjoyed them immensely. Yours in the Sacred Heart, Sister M. Evangelista (Beulah's youngest sister, Rose) | East Dunham, Quebec February 6, 1902

42: My Dear Brother and Sister (Daniel and Nellie), It has been so long since I have written a letter, I scarcely know how... Christmas had quite a vacancy to all this year, Emmett's first Christmas away...He sailed from Halifax a couple of days before that terrible disaster. Thank God they were not in the harbor at the time. Am anxiously awaiting news from him. Of course it takes mail some time to come, especially now. We are having terrible cold weather, 38 and 40 below. What do you think of that? I guess if Arthur was here now he would find how cold Old Canada could be. We all enjoyed his visit so much. The only trouble, it was too short. I was glad Emmett had not gone before he came as I was glad to have them meet. Pat (Married to Daniel's sister Susannah) broke his arm a couple of months ago and was laid up for some time, but is all right now. He came home one night with a load of feed and somehow he slipped and fell and the wheel ran over his elbow. How is Rose? Did she fully recover from her illness? I sincerely hope so, and how is the little grandchild? I have forgotten his name (Paul Buthod). It is nice they are near you. What is Dan doing this winter? You do not have the cold weather we have. You will soon be getting Spring. I wish I was somewhere where it was Spring! I will close, withing all of you a very Happy New Year. Love from all, Sister Nellie (Daniel's Sister, Nellie Butler O'Connor) | Cowansville, Quebec December 31, 1917 | Hillside, Quebec, February 11, 1918 Dear Uncle and Aunt (Daniel and Nellie), It is my sad duty to write you about the death of my dear Mother (Elizabeth McLaughlin, Daniel's Sister). Father said she appeared well as usual that evening and was knitting part of the time until bed-time, when she got herself a light lunch before going to bed. You know she was always an early riser and would still get up and build a fire when it was needless. She got up that morning and built a fire before day-light, then went back to bet until the house would get warm. When it was getting near day-light, she got up, took her clothes and went to the kitchen to dress. Father did not hear a sound after that, but when he came out after day-light he found her lying by the stove dead. It is a great blessing that she did not fall on the stove. She was partly dressed and must have dropped without any warning, as she could have gone to the door where Father was in a minute if she had felt it coming on. The funeral was Saturday. Orin went with Father to let the relatives know and they forgot about sending you a telegram. I was sorry, as we would have liked you to know, even though you could not come. You may imagine it was a terrible shock for us all. They said Mother was very much pleased to receive your letter and was intending to answer it very soon. Will close, trusting all are well. Your loving niece, Sarah McLaughlin

43: My Dear Sister Nellie, I fear you will long ago have become discouraged with me as a correspondent. I enjoyed Arthur's visit so much, but it was all too short. He should have taken another month. I thought he needed the rest. And then he took that miserable cold, which left him with that mean cough. He wrote me that it was quite gone on his arrival home, of which I was very glad. Trust he will not have a recurrence of it. I thought by the short time he was with me that he was not very strong. His work I fear is too confining for his constitution. Have a care, Nellie, of him. He is too good a young man to have his health neglected. I was quite in love with him and trust he may see his way to visit his Eastern relatives again before long.... This terrible war! When will it ever end? It looks more and more discouraging every day. I have had to discontinue my sewing, but spend every spare moment knitting and those things are very much needed. My eyes are not over strong, therefore am not able to sew very much. Emmett's battalion is in Scotland... Germany seems to be getting its own way in most things and the terrible slaughtering there is too gruesome to think of... My love to each and every one of your happy household, also to Beulah and Sister Mary Evangelista. Every your loving sister, Sarah O'Rourke (Daniel's Sister) | Rock Island, Que March 10, 1918 | Arthur & Mabel Butler

44: Below: Beulah holding Helen, her mother Nellie, Unknown woman hugging Arthur Paul, Charles, Leo Reinkemeyer (son of Lulu), his wife Agnes and children, Robert and Betty (who died at 12 from a brain tumor). Unknown man, Uncle Arthur Butler. Great Grandpa Daniel Butler holding Mary Rose, Uncle Jack Buthod. | I (Lynn) think Uncle Arthur has lovingly watched over me all of my life. We used to sit and visit on his front porch and count the colors of the cars that drove by. Arthur lost an eye when he watched an eclipse without eye protection. He worked with his sister, Mabel, and father, Daniel, at a print shop on Main Street. Arthur fell out of a tree and broke his back when he was young, which eventually gave him a hunchback. He attended 6 AM Mass every day at St. Francis Xavier Church. He died the week after he sold his print shop. I miss him. | Left: Beulah & Jenny. | Uncle Jack Buthod lost an eye while he was playing tennis with glasses on. This happened when his brother, Paul, was working in Chicago

45: Rock Island, Quebec, April 2, 1918 My dear brother (Daniel), sister (Nellie) and family, I was so grieved to receive your letter announcing the death of "dear little Rosa". I had heard through Mother writing Edith G. that you had made a trip to see her and also that you had found her much worse than you expected. I still had hopes that God might spare her and perhaps restore her to at least comparatively good health. Therefore, during last week, when we were in the chapel so much, as we naturally would be in Holy Week, my constant prayer was that it might be the most divine Will to spare her, but , if no, that He might give you each and everyone grace and strength to submit resignedly to His most holy will. I so often think how true it is and, especially so in this case, "that God's ways are not our ways," she so young and enjoying her work so much, and, as she said, in a letter written me, just a week after her profession, such a happy and beautiful home. You surely have that great consolation, that she was perfectly happy in her chosen life, as she said in her letter that she had become the "Bride of Heaven" and now she has truly gone to her chosen spouse to enjoy eternal bliss in company with so many other virginal brides, an intercessor for all her dear ones, whose hearts have been so sadly crushed. Believe me that my poor feeble prayers will daily be offered for you all, that with God's grace you will have strength in this dark hour of your sad bereavement. Ever yours, with deepest sympathy, Sarah O'Rourke (Daniel's Sister) Note: Cause of Death was T.B. | Sweetsburg, Quebec April 10, 1918 | My dear brother and family, We received your card telling us of the death of dear Sister Evangelista. We all join in sending you our deepest sympathy in your sad bereavement. We all share your grief and fully realize what death means, that a loved one has been called to the happy home in heaven, where there is no more sickness and no more sorrow. What a comfort to think a Christian finds peace beyond the grave, and , dear brother and sister, the psalmists say God chastiseth his own. We must bear our cross and say God's will be done. We are about as usual. We have not been in a sleigh this winter, not even to church. The priest came to the house to give us our Easter communion. So you see we are nearly to the bottom of the hill. It is natural, you know, to grow old. The war is fierce just now - such a slaughter of men! It is terrible, and no hope of the end of the war being near. They are having riots in Quebec City, rebelling against conscription... We have been busy making sugar. Have had two good runs. I will close now, with fondest love to all, Your loving sister, Elizabeth Butler

47: Rock Island, Quebec, September 22, 1918 Dear Sister Nellie, Pardon me for leaving your last very welcome letter so long unanswered, but really our summers are so short that our time seems to be fully occupied with outdoor duties. I have had quite a good-sized garden and did all the work myself with the exception of preparing the ground in the spring, so that, with my household, Red Cross and church work, I feel that my time is pretty well occupied. No time, I can assure you, to get either lonesome or into any mischief... I presume you have heard from some sf them (relatives) and know that brother John had the misfortune to fall and break both his wrists, but has had all splints and bandages off for some time and is getting along as well as can be expected. Annie (Nellie's sister-in-law) went to Waterloo and while there Arthur's (Nellie's brother) youngest boy, Lawrence, met with a terrible, tragic death. He was playing in the cemetery, which is right in the village, with a little church. One of the headstones fell and crushed dear little Lawrence to death. Aggie and Arthur are just heartbroken and is it any wonder? When the alarm was given, someone who did not know whose child it was, telephoned to Arthur to come at once, that a child was hurt in the cemetery. He got there to find it was his own dear little boy. Well, this terrible war looks a little brighter "over there", but still there is some awful slaughtering yet. The Canadians are having many casualties. Write me when you can. Your letters are always very welcome. Love to everyone, with a good share for yourself, Sarah O'Rourke | Rock Island, Quebec January 8, 1919 Dear Uncle and Aunt, I am sorry to be the bearer of sad news to you, but tonight we are greatly worried for fear Aunt Sarah (Daniel's sister) will not be with us many days. She contracted a bad cold and has been ill about ten days. Monday pneumonia developed and this morning the disease took a very serious phase and the doctor tells us he can hold out no hopes, except the old one "where there's life." She feels that she is going to die and is perfectly reconciled. Yesterday the priest administered Extreme Unction, as she wished him to, not that we felt there was any danger, except from the nature of the disease. She was able to follow him, give the responses and it comforted her. We phoned Uncle John this morning, hoping they could come this noon, but Aunt Nellie is not at all well and Uncle John has such a cold we could scarcely understand him. Mother (Susannah) drove over today and Aunt Sarah was glad to see her. It was easier for Mother than worrying at home. She is very well now and we are trying to keep her so. We cannot visualize life without Aunt Sarah, for she has been in each day and often twice since Mother's illness. Mother has missed her so. It will be easy for her to part with us, for she knows she is going to a world without troubles, but those who remain will not find it easy to part with her. Will write you further in a day or two, Affectionately, Your niece, Annie

48: Rock Island, Quebec, December 29, 1918 Dear Sister Nellie, I had thought I would have written you before Christmas, but somehow did not get around to do so. Thanks very much for the pretty and dainty handkerchief you sent me. I received it this morning, as well as the photo which Beulah was kind and thoughtful enough to send me. That baby Paul must be quite a big boy now by the looks of the photo. Yes, our town had a siege of the influenza, a number of fatal cases... The young man who rooms here had it. He was very sick, but escaped having pneumonia. His mother came the fourth day, which helped me out greatly, but I was pretty well played out when he got able to go home for a few days after two weeks sickness. The following week Susannah (Daniel's older sister) was taken sick. You know, she is with Annie and Nora this winter. ...About the middle of November, she had a very bad attack of indigestion. The doctor had no hopes she could ever recover from it, but did and began to feel quite herself again, when she had a very serious attack of her heart, which weakened her more than the other did. None of us ever thought she could live through the night, neither did the doctor, nurse or priest. However, gradually she has been gaining... Had snow enough for good sleighing for about 10 days... but 2 days before Christmas we had a big rain that soon put us back in the mud... It took me a long time to fully realize that the war was really over. Does it not seem good that there will be no more of those terrible casualties for us to read daily... Emmett has not come home yet. He may come almost any day... Trusting you may all continue in good health, and the coming year may be a happy and prosperous one is the sincere wish of your loving sister, Sarah O'Rourke (Daniel's Sister)

49: Rock Island, Quebec January 12, 1919 Dear Uncle (Daniel) and Aunt (Nellie), I am very sorry to have to tell you that we have lost our dear Aunt Sarah. She passed away at 9:55 on Wednesday evening [from pneumonia]. As yet we cannot realize that we shall not see her cheerful presence again in this world, for the going was so sudden and she was so very recently in such apparent good health and cheerful spirits that we momentarily look for the opening of the door and her cheerful greeting. I grow heartsick when I think of the days to come when we, and particularly Mother, will watch in vain for her tripping in. ...A few minutes before she died, Father Rheaume came in the room and said to her: "You know, I told you this morning, Mrs. O'Rourke, that I would come in tonight and say the rosary again, and I have come." "Thank you," she whispered. "You are not to make the responses," he said, "except in your heart." She nodded to let us know she understood. We had partly finished when we noticed a change in her face and she settled further down in her pillow... Father Rheaume said: "Let us remain kneeling in respect for the judgment that is going on." You see how hard it is to realize that she is gone. Her going was so natural and orderly, like her well-ordered life. It was exactly as she must always have prayed that it might be. Father Rheaume said: "When my time comes, I pray that God may grant me the favor of a death like hers." Greatly to our surprise and disappointment, we have not as yet found that Aunt Sarah left a will... She was much interested in the new parish at Rock Island and it seems to me would have wished to remember it in a quite substantial way. I felt that she would have wished what was left after the funeral expenses, etc. to be expended on Masses, care of the cemetery lot and a donation towards the church that will soon be started. With much love from Mother (Susannah), Nora (Susannah's daughter) and myself, Your niece, Annie (Susannah's daughter)

50: Cowansville, Quebec, January 12, 1920 My dear sister (Nellie), I received your most welcome letter and was pleased to hear from you, but sorry to hear of your loss by fire. A fire can certainly do much damage, it is a great set-back to a person... I was so sorry to hear of your sister's death (Sister Gertrude). Your father sent us a paper with her death notice... Your father would not have taken it nearly as hard as if she had been living with him. He always seemed to feel that they were entirely separated. He could not make up is mind to visit her in the convent. Your family certainly have had bad luck with appendicitis cases... Emmett, thank God, returned home safe and sound I tell you it was some rejoicing the night he landed. We did not know he was coming until he walked in... It is nice for you to have Mabel home with you and you must enjoy Beulah's family. The baby (Jack) must be some load to weigh so much at four months. It shows he is healthy... Well, dear sister, I must draw this to a close... If thinking and speaking about you would write letters, you would often get them... I am always your fond sister, Nellie (Ellen Corcoran, John Butler's wife) | Sacred Heart Convent, 495 Sandford Avenue, Newark 07106, NJ January 1, 1965 Aunt Nellie, I think, had a very interesting life. She was married in Kansas to Dan (Butler). (He was a Canadian.) From there they went to California where Arthur was born. She decided that California was too far from her mother and father. They then went back to Kansas where the other four girls were born. From Kansas to Maryland, Massachusetts, back to Kansas, from Kansas they settled in McCloud (McLoud), Oklahoma, then to Tulsa. Uncle Dan had property in Texas and wanted to move there, but Aunt Jennie (Butler) has Parkinson's Disease now and is confined to bed. She retired from teaching around the same time you did. Mabel (Butler) died very suddenly in July 1963. Well, I shall close now and shall try and write again. Love, Kathleen (Sister Francoise Theresa)

51: Cowansville, Quebec, January 21, 1923 Dear Uncle (Daniel) and Auntie (Nellie), We were very pleased to receive your very welcome letter. Many thanks for the snap shot. I cannot remember Arthur (Butler), as I was away when he was out this way on his visit, but I think he looks like Emmett (O'Connor). It does not seem possible that Beulah has two such big boys (Paul & Jack). They certainly are two bright-looking lads. I was very pleased to receive the picture. They were so fortunate to escape so easy with the scarlet fever, as I always thought it a very treacherous disease, so apt to leave after results... We were at Aunt Nellie's (John & Ellen O'Connor, Daniel's brother) for dinner the last time we were in Montreal, about the last of November. We had to make three trips last fall, to see a specialist about Orin's (Clara's husband) head and eyes. Perhaps you did not hear that he got hurt last September. He and his brother were down in the woods, about a mile or more from here, cutting a bee tree. A limb from another tree about 10 inches through, came down and hit Orin on the top of his head and shoulder... He lay at death's door for a week or more... I am sure you must have found it quite a task to move, and it really does take a long time to get really settled, but it is nice that you like it, and it certainly is convenient to be near the car line. With love to all, Your niece, Clara (Nellie & James McLaughlin's daughter) | Dear Uncle (Daniel) and Aunt (Nellie), I do not know if you have heard that Mother (Susannah Butler Corcoran, Daniel's sister) has been called to her Eternal Home! She left us Sunday morning at 5:30. We should have wired you, but there seemed so many things to attend to, and we were greatly bothered getting notices to Tom (Susannah's son) and Jack (Uncle John?) on account of Sunday hours in the telegraph offices. We just got Mother home from the hospital Tuesday and had everything planned as to how we would care for her in her helpless condition, whith as much comfort to her as possible, little dreaming that we were to have her such a short time. We know she is better off, but, if she could only have remained a few weeks longer, it wouldn't have been so hard... Much love to you all, Your niece, Annie (Susannah's daughter) | Rock Island, Quebec, March 16, 1923

52: Cowansville, Quebec, January 4, 1932 Dear Auntie (Nellie) and all, I received your most welcome letter. We surely were surprised when we got the message of Aunt Nellie's (Ellen Butler, John's wife) death. It was so sudden. Doubtless you have heard all about it ere this. Helen (Nellie's daughter) was ill in bed with grippe ten days, then Mary (Nellie's daughter) came down with it, and was in bed four days, and of course, Auntie waited on both girls. Mary noticed Friday morning that Auntie did not feel good, so she got out of bed and made Auntie go to bed. They had a nurse for her that night and Saturday morning the doctor pronounced it pneumonia and Auntie said she would go to the hospital and she died around 9 o'clock. Auntie died as she had always lived, a good woman. She had the last rites of the church and there were so many priests came in and had prayers for her. They had a beautiful service for her... Gertie (Mary Sheridan's daughter) and I saw to all the meals and night lunches... I feel certain Aunt Nellie must have gone straight to heaven. I always liked Auntie, and yet I think there is one equally as good. We always liked our Aunt Nellie out west. Mother used to praise you so. You are the only Aunt we have left now... Clara (daughter of Nellie & James McLaughlin) | My dear Auntie (Nellie), Sweetsburg, Quebec, April 16, 1925 ... Mother (Eliza Brady) has been quite well all winter, up every day and quite strong, but about a month ago, she seemed to lose the use of her limbs. Not wholly, that is, she can move them about, but cannot walk... She has always been so active. She does not seem to suffer much... Of course, Aunt Nellie, you would find Mother much changed. She is very quiet, does not talk very much, although she always seems pleased to see visitors. Isn't it sad to see those we love, who have been so capable, fail so much? I have always thought it was so nice for us that Father (James Brady) passed away so peacefully and gently. His death was like his life. I have often thought, could he have known that his beloved pastor would be with him when he crossed the Great Divide, how happy he would have been. You know, Aunt Nellie, much as we have missed Father, I would never wish him back, for he had gotten where there was no pleasure in life for him, and I have always felt there was no doubt about his eternal happiness, for if every there was a saint on earth, Father was. I suppose Uncle Dan and Arthur are busy at their office. Isn't it nice for them working together? The girls are busy also, I suppose. Beulah's children must be great pals with all of you, like Gertie's, in a fair way to be spoiled. We were so pleased with Arthur's photo. He has not changed. I wish he and the girls could come and visit us. My love to Uncle Dan and the girls and Arthur and lots to your dear self. Sadie (Sarah, daughter of James & Eliza Butler)

53: From the Cowansville Newspaper, Oct. 11, 1926: After eight weeks of suffering as a result of being thrown from a buggy, Miss Sarah (Sadie, daughter of James & Eliza Butler) Butler passed away at the District Hospital, on Wednesday, October 6. (She was 51 years old) It will be recalled that on August 11th, Miss Butler was driving a horse and rig up South Street hill and the horse suddenly turned into McClatchie Bros. yard. The buggy struck a post and threw Miss Butler violently to the ground, her back being so badly injured, she became paralyzed and gradually grew worse until death released her. Sincerest sympathy is extended to her brother, Mr. Patrick Butler, with whom she lived. Miss Butler had many friends here, who sincerely regret her untimely death. | Granby, Quebec, October 30, 1926 Dear Aunt Nellie and Family, Words cannot express the grief we felt when we heard the news of dear Uncle's (Daniel's) death. I assure you that you have our sincerest sympathy in this your great bereavement, but trust God will give you strength to bear your sorrow. One thing that may perhaps be a consolation to you is the fact that dear Uncle was spared the trial of a long illness. I know only too well what the loss of a dear, kind father means, and can easily understand what sad and lonely days these are for you all. And, dear Auntie, I feel sure you are doing your best to bear your heavy cross with resignation to God's holy will. We were so sorry to think that none of us could be with you. You seem to be so far away. But you are near and dear in my heart, and, especially these days, I think of you many times. One by one our dear ones are taken to their heavenly home. Poor Pat Butler's home is broken by Sadie's death. Poor Sadie had such a sad death, she that had so much sad trials. My earnest wish and prayer is that God and his Blessed Mother may comfort and console you all. With a fervent requiescat for dear Uncle's soul, I remain ever your niece, in prayerful sympathy, Lillian Sheridan (daughter of Mary Butler (Daniel's Sister) & Frank Sheridan)

54: Montreal, Quebec January 9, 1933 My dear Aunt Nellie, I suppose you are all anxious to find out what really happened to poor Mother (Ellen Butler, John's wife)... I think on Saturday morning she realized that she was very ill, because around eight o'clock in the morning she asked for the priest, before the doctor was in and the priest anointed her, only as a precautionary measure, as he did not think she was that ill, but the priests are so busy here on Saturday afternoon, he was afraid we might want him and could not reach him. She was able to answer all the prayers herself, and she seemed so satisfied after he had gone. We were so thankful to the priest for anointing her, because, if he had waited until the afternoon, she could not have received Communion and would not have realized what he was doing, because she was so sick. That is a wonderful consolation to us now. She did not have time to suffer very much and did not realize that she was leaving us, which would have been very hard for he on account of her very unselfish disposition. Considering the short time she has lived in Montreal, we were more than surprised to find out the number of friends she has made. They were most kind to us in our trouble, which helped a lot. | We are trying to be brave, just as she would wish us to be. We feel, of course, that she is happy and can now watch over us. We thank you all for your kind sympathetic words and for your prayers which you have offered up for her. We were sorry to hear that you are not feeling too good and that you are so thin. You want to take care of yourself and stay with your girls and Arthur as long as you possibly can. I will try and be faithful in writing you more often. It seems too bad that we are so far apart. Your loving niece, Mary (Daughter of John Brady & Ellen (Nellie) O'Connor) | Mabel, Jenny & Arthur.

55: Granby, Quebec, August 9, 1933 Dear Aunt Nellie, I am sending you the paper with the account of the death of Uncle John Murphy (Jennie Butler's husband). He really hasn't been well since last March. He just gradually wasted away... Auntie (Jennie) is not very well. A week ago Sunday last, she was anointed for death. She wasn't able to go to the funeral, but is feeling better now. We came through Shefford the other day and Aunt Alice, your sister, was sitting on the gallery. We didn't stay, but she waved. She is pretty well now. Here we are all feeling fine as Gertrude has gained and is feeling quite herself and intends to resume her teaching in September again. Wish Jennie (Nellie's daughter) would have come to visit us when she was halfway, but hope she will another year. Loads of love to you all, Lillian Sheridan (Daughter of Daniel's sister Mary) | Toronto, Ontario, May 5, 1940 My dear Mabel (Daughter of Nellie and Daniel Butler), I wrote home for questions of family history to be answered and replies came. Sorry, we don't know what county in Ireland Grandfather Butler (Patrick) came from. Grandmother Butler (Sarah McNeill) was born in Canada. They are not certain whether in the Providence of Quebec or Ontario. She was a McNeill, had a brother who lived in Granby about five miles from our home. In the family, Aunt Susannah was the eldest; then Uncle James; Uncle Patrick, who died quite young; then Aunt Lizzie; Mary, our mother; Uncle John; Aunt Sarah; Aunt Jennie, and Uncle Dan. How time goes by. Your nephews and nieces are grownups like mine. I guess you and I must be getting older, nearer to heaven. With love, ever yours, Gertrude M.S. (Daughter of Mary Butler and Frank Sheridan) | Jenny Butler, Nellie's daughter

56: St. Anthony's Institute San Antonio, TX October 21, 1917 Dear Beulah: I am slipping this note into the letter home, because you see, I must save postage for that coming raise. Thank you dear for those pretty handkerchiefs, and also for the booklet and Kodaks. I am so glad to get a good look at the darling even tho' its through the eye of the camera. I enjoy reading about "Bennie". Yes, I have several Bennie's in my room, but strange to say they go by the names of Charlie, James and Rob. I have an easier school this year than last. We have almost 80 children, divided up into three classrooms. They are pretty good, most Texas children being too lazy to be mean (not intending any slam of course). We have six lovely girls boarding with us. One of them is an old pupil of mine from St. Mary's. Do you know a girl by the name of Gertrude Nikal? She is about 14, goes to Holy Family School. She is the cousin of one of the Sisters here, Sister Mercedes (who I know from Guthrie by the way). Do you see Sister Antoinette sometimes? Sister told me that she met you and held the baby for a while. Please give her love from Sisters Amana, Mercedes and myself, for we have all been under her care when novices. Have you had any cold weather yet? We are having frosty days now. The stoves are going up Monday. We have no gas connections for heating so that means get in the "kindling" every night I suppose. It will seem like old times. Best regards to Charles and a big "Auntie" kiss to Arthur Paul. From your ever loving sister, Sister Evangelista | Mabel Butler

57: June 14th, 1937, Mother dearest (Nellie Butler), two years ago today we celebrated your last birthday here with us. If we had known these were the last birthday presents we were to choose for you, how we would have tried to make them especially symbolic of our love and devotion. As it was, I feel that you knew that the little bud vase could not begin to hold my love for you. August 11, 1937, What wouldn't we give to be able to hear your voice again! And what it meant to us during all the years, when it uttered only words of love, or sympathy or understanding. You remember how you always joked about "there's a discord somewhere"? But it rather hurt that you would even think anyone would say that about your voice. And you knew that while sometimes we would laugh about the songs you sang, (some of the real old Irish ballads) that all the time we were loving your singing of them, didn't you? September 18, 1937, Do you remember, I wonder often, what you said one time when I was not working during one winter: "No matter what happens, we will have the memory of this time spent together!" And how thankful we should always be to our dear Lord who blessed us with so many years with you and our dear Father. September 28, 1937, This last Saturday in September we met at church as we had done so frequently, for confession, and walked home together. Was it too hard for you, I wonder! Sunday, October 5, 1937, This day we went together, as usual, to early Mass. Arthur was called upon to go with the Buthods to Arkansas, so we had Paul, Mary Rose and Nellie (Helen) with us for the day. Late in the afternoon Paul suggested that he would drive us out to the hill in our Hupp, for Arthur to pick us up there when they got in. While there we went down to the church for the Rosary, as you suggested that we might not be back in town in time for the Rosary Devotions at Holy Family, that evening. Mother dear, did you have any premonition that that was to be your last visit to any church in this life? And while you no doubt said many Rosaries while you lay on your sick bed, that was the last time we said a Rosary together. During those nights when we carried our rosaries with us all the time trying to fix our minds on petitions for your recovery, you could not join us. Or were you, even then, saying those prayers which meant so much to you? I know you grew anxious to get home before they finally arrived, and we came home at once without accepting Beulah's urgent invitation to stay and eat. October 7, 1937, Monday and our regular wash day. Do you remember how we had our familiar discussion as to whether or not we should wash, as there had been a rain and things were wet, and the skies not too promising? You finally left it for me to decide and Mother dear, if that was directly or indirectly the cause of the beginning of your illness, may God help me to atone for it the rest of my life. How I have missed you on these succeeding wash days, for that was especially our day. Do you remember how you used to say: "You must really like to wash when you can sing at it." I hope you knew what I really liked was the working with you. I can't sing at it now... Mabel Butler

58: Tuesday, Oct. 8, 1937, Almost as pleasant were our ironing days together, though I couldn't make them last all morning. I tried to prolong them as much as possible, by suggesting that you might have a little visit with Beulah, or read the paper. But soon you would say: "How soon am I going to have my rights?" Or "Shall I heat up the other iron?" Jennie stayed at home to see that you got to bed all right, and I do not think you realized that she was staying for your sake. It would have worried you so much. Thursday, Oct. 10, How ignorant I was about illness and nursing. And how I feel, in fact I know, that I made mistakes, which, perhaps were more serious that I realized. If so, please forgive me, dear Mother, if I let you suffer when I could have relieved you at least a little. You know, Mother dear, don't you, that I wanted to do the very best for you, and would gladly have suffered those pains for you if I could. We decided to call Dr. Atkins. Of course, you made some remark to him about our being so silly to bother him, but he looked at it more seriously and pronounced the trouble, pleurisy. Monday, Oct. 14, We had talked for some time of making a box of candy to send Aunt Rose for her birthday. Jennie went ahead and made some and I finished up Monday morning. But I knew you were not feeling like yourself, when you showed no interest in it. And we were sorry we had sent the box when we learned that it did not reach Aunt Rose until after she had had our sad messages about you... Up to this time, while we were anxious about you, we did not realize the seriousness of your illness. But when Dr. Atkins came downstairs after his visit to you, my heart sank when he pronounced it pneumonia. Saturday, Oct. 20, Arthur called Fr. Tapia and asked him to come in the morning with Communion and administer the Last Sacrament. At first he was not inclined to promise to come as Sunday was so busy for them, but he did not realize the need until Arthur told him that Monday might be too late. Sunday, Oct. 21, He came about 8 o'clock and gave you Communion for the last time. When you were settled in bed again you smiled when I said you were ahead of me, as you had already been to church. Arthur took me to Christ the King for 9 o'clock Mass. It was short but how long it seemed to be away from you! Monday, Oct. 22, Monday was a nightmare day, with the whole world turned upside down. During the night we all kept our rosaries in our hands, and sometimes read the prayers for the dying, but I fear our prayers were distracted ones. However, we trust that our dear Lord made allowances and granted our petitions on your behalf. At 7:30, we saw from the window, we saw Ella and Lucille on their way to the Mass which our Study Club had offered for you, and we knew that the prayers of friends were united with ours during those last hours... For just as the clock was striking 9 on that morning of October 22, you breathed your last, and all the world was changed from that minute. Mabel Butler 1937

59: Aunt Jenny taught at Lincoln Elementary School. | Am sure that our earthly springs cannot be compared to what the Heavenly ones must be, but I am grateful to our Dear Lord that He spared you to us to enjoy so many early spring flowers and bird songs together. Mabel Butler 1937 | Aunt Jenny had Parkinson's disease and spent several years bed-ridden.

60: Grace Etier, was once caught in a buffalo stampede when she was a young girl. | Dougherty: Donegal, Ireland, to NY in 1826 to Iowa in 1868 to OK in 1900 Dolan: Tipperary, Ireland, to NY in 1846-50 to Iowa in 1868 to OK in 1900 Etier: Limosine, France, to Montreal ~ 1660 to LA in 1774, to AR in 1840 to TX in 1875 to OK 1904. | William Albert Beck was born 01-Apr-1830 in Jackson County, NC, and died 06-Oct-1864. He married Rachel Narcissa Elder on 01-Apr-1849. Military Service: 19-Jul-1862, Enlisted CSA (Confederate States of America). Children include Eliza Jane Beck. There is a book written by Joyce Nell Beck Lagrone Truitt on the Becks going back to Debolt/Devault/ DeWalt Beck... She says William died in a battle in Virginia and is buried at Winchester, Virginia Confederate Cemetery #1341 age at death 34. | The only thing that saved her life was climbing a lone tree just before the buffalo stampeded beneath her. | DOLAN

61: Grandpa & Grandma used to have dances in their barn.

62: "By 1826 the number of Irish families seemed to warrant attention by Rev. Fr. Moore of Huntingdon, Quebec, who visited Fort Covington and said Mass at the hotel. St. Mary's Church was established and in 1837 the entire Catholic male population turned out to build the Church. There were 170 families." (From: "History of Diocese of Ogdensburg" by Rev. John Talbot Smith) Our ancestors, James and Mary Dougherty and their children, James, Patrick and Sarah, came to Fort Covington in 1826 from County Donegal, Ireland. They were a part of St. Mary's 170 families. James became a citizen of the United States in 1834. Because of the courage of those who left the oppression of their homelands to come to the United States, we are Americans today. In remembrance of their strength and their quest for freedom, let us pray for our Country. GOD BLESS AMERICA! | Grandpa Ray and the military. One morning Dad and Ray stopped the car and picked up Lawrence Dobbs, a neighbor, who was walking home from Hinton. Lawrence told Dad that he was going to volunteer for the army. Dad begged him not to go. He asked Lawrence, “Who will take care of your brothers and sisters?” He told Lawrence that it was more important for him to get an education than to go into the military. Lawrence did volunteer and went on to college when he was discharged from the army. Another time, a man stopped by the house while Dad was working outside. In the course of their conversation, the man told Dad that his son was about to volunteer for the military. Dad told him that war was a very horrible thing and he hoped his son would change his mind. He told him about his two brothers, Will and Ed, who were both overseas during WWI. Uncle Will often suffered from his exposure to German mustard gas. As far as anyone knows, Dad never encouraged nor discouraged Malene, his daughter, from becoming an Army Nurse or Pat from joining the Marines. Dr. Ray | The names Doherty and Dougherty in Ireland are derived from the O'Dochartaigh Sept who were located in Inishowen in County Donegal in the North West of the country. Descendants of this Sept now rank among the twenty most frequently found names in Ireland.

63: On October 14, 1834, James Dougherty, Husband of Mary McGeoghan, became a citizen of the United States of America. This is a copy of that documentation.

64: James Dougherty 2nd, born in Ireland in 1819, came to the US in 1826 at 7 years old, met and married Sarah Smith in 1843 when they were both 24. Sarah Smith was also born in Ireland. James was a farmer. They were both Roman Catholic and both lived out their lives in Iowa. They had 10 children, all were born in New York. Those who married, married in Iowa. Several moved to OK and several moved to Oregon.

65: James Dougherty 3rd was the second child and second son of James Dougherty 2nd and Sarah Smith. He was born 11/4/1848 in Moira, New York and married Julia Dolan in 1874 at Corpus Christi Church in Fort Dodge, Iowa. He was 26 and she was 17. Julia was also born in New York. James was a farmer. They were both Roman Catholic. They had 11 children, all were born in Fort Dodge, Iowa. The 10th child died as a baby. Raymond was the 11th child. | Dougherty Lineage

66: James 3rd & Julia Dougherty mortgaged 1/2 Section of land in Hinton, OK, for $350.00 on April 4, 2008 and paid it off on April 4, 1910. James was 62. Julia was 53. Ray (Grandpa) was 14. | The Irish name Dolan is derived from the native Gaelic O'Dobhailen Sept who were located in Counties Roscommon and Galway. The name is now quite widespread, especially in the Province of Connaught with variants including O'Doelan and even Devlin.

67: James Dougherty, husband to Julia Dolan, dies at his daughter, Gertrude's house on May 1, 1909. | Julia Dolan Dougherty died 7 and 1/2 years later on October 25, 1916.

68: Julia Dolan's father, Thomas b. 1822, was able to find work on the boats that towed barges up and down the Hudson River, and he married Bridget in 1852 in Kingston, NY. A flag pole fell on him and cut both legs off. He bled to death on the boat. After Thomas died, his cousin, William Quinn, married Bridget, and set off for Iowa with her eight children, in search of a better life and the opening of new land to farm (Homestead Act of 1862). It wasn't a very happy time because Bridget's older boys wouldn't accept William. Bridget and her children (including Julia) stayed in Iowa and William moved back to New York. | Above: Ray Dougherty, Julia Dolan, Tom, John, Will seated, Jim and Ed.

69: Bridget's daughter Julia, met James 3rd on the wagon train headed for Iowa. Ray Dougherty, my grandfather, was born in Fort Dodge, Iowa in 1897, the last of 11 children. The family later moved from Iowa to Oklahoma in 1900, where they obtained land to farm near Hinton. My grandfather, Ray, met Grace when he saved her from a runaway horse carriage. She was living with relatives near Hinton. She gave him some flowers for his mother when she came to visit and he backed into a cellar. They married in 1915. They rented and then bought their own land near Hinton to homestead and farm. They raised 11 children,

70: Bennett Etier died of cancer of the colon; so did his son, Roland; and his son, E.H. Grace Missouri Etier died in 1964 with dropsy. | Ray and Grace Dougherty farmed 160 acres of land, raising cattle, cotton and eleven kids. They also had dogs, usually named Queen or King. They had cats in the barn and chickens and a horse, Babe.

71: Dear Dougherty-Etier family members, Grace Etier Dougherty had colon cancer and several of her siblings had what was referred to in olden days as stomach cancer and other types of cancer. Skin cancer was donated by the Dougherty side of the family. Ray & Grace's children had various forms of cancer, namely, me, Patrick (colon-2), Mary Jane (colon /uterine/lung), Grace (breast-2/colon-2), and Jim (breast-2/colon/lung). To my knowledge, there has been only one person (third generation) in the following Ray-Grace third & fourth generations with cancer. A genetic mutation referred to as the Lynch Syndrome seemed to be the only known mutation which might be related to the Dougherty-Etier propensity for colon/uterine/breast cancer. (For example, colon cancer in the early 40s) In order to allay the fears of one of my children in this regard, I recently underwent a genetic test for the Lynch Syndrome. The test result was negative. The Dougherty-Etier cancer history could have been caused by environmental factors, such as DDT. Skin cancer is another matter. You're lucky if you're a Dougherty descendant with no skin cancer or precancerous spots. Patrick (Dougherty) | Family Tree Note: My cousin, Don Dougherty, now deceased, was the son of Dad’s (Ray's) brother, Uncle Will. Sometime after his death, Don’s third wife, Amelia, married Don’s first wife’s second ex-husband. Uncle Pat Dougherty

72: Ray Dougherty & Grace Etier were married on January 20, 1915 | They were married 49 years when Grandma died at age 70. Grandpa lived another 19 years to the age of 87. I (Lynn) remember when Mom (Rudelle) first saw his open casket. She let out a mournful wail and ran to it, completely overcome with sadness. Her siblings tried to comfort and console her as best they could.

73: Above: Wedding Portrait of Ray & Grace Dougherty; Right: Grandma, Grandpa & Aunt Margaret | Grandma Dougherty started nursing cousin Beth (because of an allergy to her mother's milk) while she was also nursing Pat. She was heartbroken to give Beth back to her mother. Grandma grieved a long time over that. | Grandma D's mother's name was Jane Beck. Beck is a surname of Germanic descent, meaning "brook" or "stream".

74: Both Phil & Lizzie, James' brother & Sister, were the first of the Iowa Dougherty's to migrate to Oklahoma during the opening of the Indian Territory. The "runs" took place earlier. Phil simply obtained a land grant as a farmer and settled near Geary. I believe Aunt Lizzie lived for a time with Phil. Dr. Ray remembers her living at a residence in town at Geary when he was a young boy. Lizzie came to live with us for several years after she could no longer care for herself. According to Ray, she owned a farm when she died and that was deeded to my Dad. That farm might have been Uncle Phil's, who was then deceased. Dad sold the farm shortly after Lizzie died. When James migrated to Oklahoma, he and his family, including my Dad, settled further south near Lookeba. They lived in a sod house while the log cabin was being built and then lived in the log cabin while the large two-story house was built. When my folks were married, they lived for a time in an outbuilding at Uncle Duff Montange's farm. They later moved to a rental house close by. They moved from there to a rental house across the road from the entrance of Red Rock Canyon State Park where Rudelle and Margaret were born. I am emailing you a photo of the house in case you don't already have it. Uncle Duff and Aunt Josie were not blood relatives but took my folks under their wing because my Mother shared their French-Canadian heritage and Catholic religion. They became part of our family. I enjoy trying to answer your questions. Patrick (Dougherty, Dr. Ray's little Brother)

75: This is the house where Rudelle and Margaret Dougherty were born. It was across the highway from the entrance to Red Rock Canyon State Park. The house was demolished some time after this photo was taken and the area is now commercial. | The name "Dougherty" is Irish in origin, and most Doughertys are from County of Donegal. The name means "sons of the disobliging one" or "overcomer of difficulty." James Dougherty 1st and Mary McGeoghan Dougherty moved with their children to Franklin County, NY in 1826. This was probably part of the general exodus of Catholics from Ireland after the British Act of Union in 1880, which united England, Wales, Ireland and Scotland as "The United Kingdom", and led to continued persecution of the catholics. James 2nd, met and married Sarah Smigh, also of Donegal, in 1943 in Franklin County, NY, and bore a son James 3rd, in 1848 in NY. James 2nd may have been part of a group of Irishmen living in NY who were recruited by the Fenians (Irish Republican Brotherhood) to conduct raids on Canada in order to wrest it from British control in 1867. James 2nd and Sara may have fled for their lives in 1868 from the British and US authorities after the raids failed, and by 1871 they were established in Iowa, with James listed as an election judge. Their son, James 3rd, met Julia Dolan on the Wagon Train headed for Iowa and they married in Fort Dodge, Iowa in 1874. Julia's parents came to NY between 1846-1850 from Tipperary, Ireland, where they were both born and may have known each other before coming to America. They were likely part of the large exodus of Irish fleeing the potato famine of 1845. | Grandma (Grace), holding Lynn (6 mo.) and Alice (6 years).

76: Dad (Ray Dougherty) suffered from rickets and asthma when he was young. He was somewhat small and frail. Because of his condition, he was the only Dougherty boy who couldn't ride horses. He also got the lion's share of his mother's attention, being sick and the youngest child. This caused him to be somewhat isolated from his older brothers during his childhood. The family doctor told his parents that he needed more exposure to the sun to cure his rickets. One of the reasons for the move to Oklahoma was to get little Ray more sunshine. Aunt Aggie, Dad's oldest sister, filed for a farm at Geary, Oklahoma, which is close to Hinton. This was an opportunity for the Dougherty family to make the move to Oklahoma. The family took a train from Fort Dodge, Iowa to Bridgeport, Oklahoma. The trip took several days. They brought their horses and cattle and other belongings with them on the train. The animals rode in boxcars. Dad's rickets hurt him so bad that he cried all the way to Bridgeport. Finally reaching their destination, they unloaded the boxcars and forded the South Canadian River with their belongings and their animals. The river was up to its banks at the time but somehow they made it across safely. They set up camp on the other side. | Aunt Lizzie, one of Dad's older sisters, also filed for and got a 160 acre farm close to Hinton. She had a pond. That's where Dad learned how to swim. The Oklahoma sunshine and Aunt Lizzie's pond helped him get over his rickets and asthma. He got well, grew like a weed and became the tallest kid in the family. He started working for Uncle Duff, a family friend who was also like a favorite uncle to all the kids in the Dougherty family. | Julia Dolan Dougherty | My Mother accidentally poisoned my Father. Mother had a large copper tub for boiling dirty, greasy work clothes. One day she decided the tub would be a convenient cooking pot for canning a large batch of tomatoes. She did not know that cooking food in copper containers could poison whoever ate the food. She filled the tub with peeled ripe tomatoes and started cooking. Dad came in from the field, saw the tomatoes cooking on the wood stove, and couldn't resist a quick snack. He buttered a big slice of homemade bread and sat down to a bowl of tomatoes from the tub. After finishing the tomatoes, Dad picked up the milk bucket and left the house to go milk the cows. Outside, he felt terribly weak and collapsed onto the ground. Ray saw him fall. Mom immediately called Dr. Hobbs. When the doctor arrived, he questioned Mom on the circumstances of Dad's illness and quickly diagnosed his condition as copper poisoning. They carried Dad into the house. He was violently ill. Ray doesn't remember how long Dad was bedfast but at least several days. Dr. Ray's Stories

77: Dr. Ray remembers going with Mom and one of her relatives on a trip from Hinton to Randlett Oklahoma to see Christopher Columbus Etier, Mom’s oldest brother. He recalls that a very scary part of the trip was going down a long, steep dirt road in the old Model T car. They stayed a few days with Uncle Lum before returning to Hinton. | Uncle Duff and Aunt Josie Montague had two boys. One boy died when he was eleven years old. One icy morning he climbed on his pony to ride it to school. He went galloping down the long lane in front of the house. As he turned at the mailbox, the pony slid on the ice and fell on top of the boy. He lived for a number of days. One Christmas, Uncle Duff and Aunt Josie took their small son on a train trip to Canada to visit relatives. On the way back, the boy got pneumonia and died. | Julia Dolan with Irene Montagne | Left: Grace & Ray Dougherty

78: Lunch at Knox Canyon: Aunt Gertie, Margaret, Rudelle & Irene Montagne. Grandma D. in her wedding dress. Uncle Pat Dougherty. Mary & Kelly Dougherty and Jimmie Jensen, grandson of Uncle Duff & Aunt Josie.

79: Dear Folks, The Irene pictured in the Knox Canyon photo is Irene Montagne, daughter of Uncle Duff & Aunt Josie Montagne, a French-Canadian couple who took my folks under their wing after they got married. Uncle Duff hired Dad to work on his farm, found my folks their first and second rental houses, helped them find the farm they ended up buying, and generally were there whenever they need help. When I was growing up, Aunt Josie called Mom every morning for their 30 min gossip session. It was one-way gossip. All I ever heard my Mother say was “Oh, My!!!” about 20 times during their conversations. It was a party line so you can bet that all the other party goers were listening in. Irene was older than Rudelle. In the photo, left to right is Aunt Gertie (dad’s sister), Margaret, Rudelle, and Irene Montagne. My sister (Helen) Irene was not born yet when that photo was taken. Your Aunt Eileen, now deceased, was the wife of my brother, Dr. Ray. Patrick | Grandma Dougherty, Rudelle, Margaret, Grace & Malene

80: Grace, Rudelle, Malene, Margaret, Ray, Kelley, Helen, Mary Jane, Grace, Pat, Ray, Jim & Ruth Ann

81: Mike York (Helen's son), Treva York, Dr. Ray, Helen, Kelly & Mary, Mary Jane Ruth Ann Heatley, Margaret, Grace & Bill Newhouse | Kelly, Mary Jane, Mary, Ruth Ann, Margaret, Grace & Bill Newhouse

82: It was the night of the annual Independence School Box Supper. Silly little girls giggled and changed seats frequently. Bigger teenaged girls placed their boxes demurely, sometimes winking at one of the boys. Rudelle stood with the other teenaged girls, smiling hesitantly, the prettiest by far. High school boys came sauntering in to stand in the back of the school, looking unabashedly at any girl who passed, and whispered in one another's ears. One of the boys cupped his hand under his arm and produced a sound like someone passing gas. All the boys laughed, slapping one another on the back, and the girls blushed and looked the other way. . The teacher in charge announced that, before the auction, Mr. Dougherty would tell a Halloween story. After the applause died down, he announced that he usually told stories that were big whoppers, but this one happened to be absolutely true. The teacher turned the gasoline lantern low and everyone became quiet. “Not too long after Godfrey Nokey was buried,” he began; Grandma Nokey began to be awakened in the middle of the night by the sound of footsteps on the stairs.” The details of Godfrey Nokey’s death and funeral were still fresh in the minds of everyone in the room. After Godfrey retired he had nothing to do but go fishing every day and gradually gained a huge amount of weight, so much that when he died the funeral was delayed to allow time for an extra-large casket to be made and delivered. While they waited for the casket, Godfrey had been laid out across a large divan and several chairs, and some of the relatives swore that he moved a little from time to time, especially at night. When the casket eventually arrived, Godfrey’s six husky sons struggled to get it down the front steps, only to find it wouldn't fit between the rows of cedar trees that flanked the lane to the road—not even after the lower branches were trimmed. The ground was soaking from hard rains, but the sons had no choice but to trudge through the mud, and then take the fence gate off its hinges to get him into the hearse. There was a further delay when the hearse got stuck and mules had to be harnessed to pull it out. Some people felt that so much bad luck and trouble were signs that Godfrey was not quite ready to go. “Now Grandma Nokey didn't believe in ghosts,” Rudelle’s father said, continuing his story. “But the footsteps on the stairs were a real mystery. However carefully she locked the doors and windows before she went to bed, she kept hearing the steps. And then she remembered that, when Godfrey was alive, he had the habit of awakening about midnight and going downstairs, then coming back up later. One night, the footsteps seemed so real that Grandma Nokey sat up in bed and called out, ‘Godfrey! Godfrey!’ and the footsteps suddenly stopped.” At this point in the story, one of the children began to cry and was quietly hushed by its mother. “Well, Grandma Nokey asked me to spend a night at the house to see if I could get to the bottom of it. I didn't mind helping Grandma out, but I had to admit that there were things I’d rather do! On the appointed night, I arrived sometime after dark. She was already asleep but had left the door open for me. Just to be sure, I went from room to room, looking carefully in every corner of her big two-story house, even under the beds and divans. I found nothing. Then I locked all the windows and doors and lay down on the divan in the parlor, the same divan they had laid Godfrey out on. Sure enough, about midnight, I woke to the sound of footsteps on the stairs.” At this point, his voice became quieter and more serious. “I rose very quietly and walked to the stairs. As it happens, it was storming outside, and flashes of lightning lit the steps. After adjusting my eyes, I could see that no one was there. Hearing the steps again, I realized that they were coming from one of the upstairs bedrooms. Getting to the top the stairs, I noticed the door was open! Certain I had closed it earlier, I walked in without making a sound. The footsteps came again, close by this time! Peering through the dark, what do you think I saw? Yes siree; big old shutters banging in the wind, sounding just like the clomping of a big man's footsteps!” Everyone cheered, and Mrs. Riggs, a neighbor, ran up and hugged Rudelle’s father.

83: Nursing neighbors and relatives back to health. Dad and Mother gave extended care in their home to Mother's niece, “Bob” Etier, her brother, Roland (while recovering from two broken legs), Dad's sister, Aunt Lizzie (elderly, disabled), his brother, Uncle Tom (Parkinson's disease) and their niece, Beth (allergic to her mother's milk). A neighbor, John, came down with TB. His wife was afraid she would catch the disease, so she refused to take care of him. Dad would care for him several days at a time while our crops went to the dogs. Gus, another neighbor, was working in the field when his horse kicked him in the head. The kick knocked Gus unconscious. One of his sons saw it happen. He ran to the house and told his mother. She never liked Gus and seriously considered just letting him lie where he was. Finally, she reconsidered and called my father for help. When Dad got there, Gus was still unconscious. Dad called some neighbors who helped carry Gus to the house. Since Gus couldn't afford a doctor, it was up to Dad to try to nurse him back to health. Dad bathed Gus and went back every day for a month to help with his care. Gus finally woke up and started working again but his mental condition remained poor. He never fully recovered. One of Dad’s closest neighbors, Mr. Chastain, developed lung cancer. It reached the point where his wife couldn't care for him. For several weeks, Dad went to his house to be with him during his painful episodes. | I found this letter from my brother Jim to our sister Margaret in her scrapbook. It is dated December 3, 1983, about six weeks after the death of our father Ray. Margaret had given up her medical career in order to care for him during his final years. His death left her distraught with grief for a long time. Jim tried his best to console her with phone calls and letters. (Uncle Pat Dougherty,)"You Were the Luckiest" Dear Margaret, I am going to make a suggestion to you. Come the Springtime, why don't you purchase ten to fifteen baby chickens. Until they are a month old you might have to care for them. After that, let them run loose around the farm. We are not talking about selling eggs or even killing the chickens for food. My happiest days on the farm used to be laying on the grass and listening and watching a bunch of old hens clucking away, scratching for their food. The world seemed so peaceful. Of course, you could also get a Rooster. A Rooster crowing in the morning is music to my ears; And I feel sure it would be to yours. Let the chickens lay eggs where they may and roost where they may. The idea being that they would be a comfort to you, like Queen, and the Cats... I make it as a sincere suggestion to give you company, and lead to your peace of mind. I love animals. I so regret that I live in a city where animals, especially chickens, are restricted. Another thing, I used to spend hours as a boy sitting on the porch. When the wind would blow, I would hear it moan around the windows and the door. I always felt close to Mom and Dad during those times. As I would feel both the extremes of sadness and happiness as the wind moaned with the gusts like the mournful sounds of a freight train that seemed to be calling me... Of course we are older now, but we must never give up completely the "little boy" and the "little girl" in all of us. I envy you as I always envied Dad. We all love and respect peace and quiet as we get older. You have it on the farm. That is why Dad loved it so much. He could look out over his farm, he would watch the cars drive by; the peace and quiet of the farm cannot be beat. Like an open air cathedral, you are close to God and His wonderful creations, be it the animals or the worms in a freshly spaded turn of dirt. All are in the divine flow of life. For all of these reasons, we (the kids) love to come home. Not to be sad, for Mom and Dad are all around us whether it is at the big table, the living room or any room in the house. Of all of the kids, you were the luckiest and had the best. For you were around Dad and he deeply loved you, As we all love you. A lot of Love, Jim

84: Grandpa Ray & Aunt Margaret; Opposite page: Rudelle and Sister Mary Grace (Aunt Margaret) | The 9-1-1 bed-sheet: When Rudelle was old enough to baby-sit her younger sisters and brother, Mother started working with Dad in the cotton field. The field was about a quarter mile from the house. Mom told Rudelle to hang a white bed-sheet on the yard fence in case of an emergency. Each time Mom and Dad would reach the end of a cotton row at the west end of the field, they would look towards the house to see if there was a bed-sheet hanging on the fence. One day little Grace became very ill while the folks were picking cotton. Rudelle went looking for a sheet to hang on the fence. Somehow, Margaret, the next younger sister, got it in her head that Rudelle thought Grace was dying and needed the sheet to bury her. When the folks reached the west end of the cotton field, they saw Rudelle running around the house waving the bed-sheet with Margaret chasing her. The folks rushed home, tended to Grace, and then explained to Margaret the purpose of the bed-sheet. Dr. Ray | When Rudelle was young, she was in a terrible car accident with a semi truck full of cattle. She said cattle were all over the highway. She was near death but was saved by a new drug, penicillin. She was one of the first to use it.

85: Above: Letter from Grandpa to Rudelle

86: Grandpa James Dougherty 3rd (Rudelle's Grandpa) trained horses for harness racing (a horse pulling a two-wheeled buggy) at Fort Dodge, Iowa for a very wealthy woman. Those were the most popular races at the time and they drew large crowds of spectators. James found that he could not feed his large family on what he was making training racehorses so he moved to Oklahoma. Uncle Dr. Ray | Uncle Ed Dougherty, Dad's (Ray) uncle, lived in Oregon. He tried to get Dad to move there during the Great Depression. He wrote to Dad and told him there was plenty of work for him in Oregon. Mom wanted to go but Dad would not even consider it. "I'm not taking my family in that old car all the way from Oklahoma to Oregon," he said. Uncle Dr. Ray | Why did Grandpa Ray quit making home brew? Dr. Ray wasn't sure about this, but believed it was most likely when Dad destroyed Mom's entire canning production and also his home brew stash with one shotgun blast into the cellar. The only time Dad lost his dignified bearing was when he saw a snake. One day, one of the kids told Dad that there was a snake in the cellar. The thought of sharing the cellar with a snake sent Dad into a frenzy. Reason and common sense left him. He grabbed the double-barreled twelve-gage shotgun and raced to the cellar. Half way down the steps, he spied the big black bull snake crawling slowly across the floor. Knowing Dad, he probably pulled both triggers of the shotgun at the same time. He killed the snake but the blast from the shotgun knocked him halfway up the cellar steps. He also finished off Mom's canned fruits and vegetables without taking a single bite. Furthermore, he ruined his supply of brew including the bubbling stuff brewing in the ten-gallon crock. It first appeared that the food and brew were okay. However, every time Mom picked up a jar of food or, Dad, a bottle of brew, the contents spilled out all over the place from the cracked container. Not a single jar of peaches, pickled peaches, pears, cherries, beets, dill pickles, okra, green beans, peas, apples, jellies and jams and preserves, applesauce, sauerkraut, tomatoes, tomato sauce, minced meat, or bottle of brew survived the blast. For Dad, it was the end of an era. Uncle Pat | My Mother told me our house was built by 4 outlaws on the edge of the little creek just south of where the home sat. Outlaws did not stay in one place very long at a time, they always stayed ahead of the law. When they left, a doctor was riding through the territory and came upon the little 2-room shack that the outlaws had built. He staked a claim and moved the shack to its permanent location and added a room. He lived there and practiced medicine until he died. Uncle Duff told Dad that the place was for sale, 160 acres for $4,000.00. Dad and Mom bought it and it took them 40 years to pay for it. But that was ok, it was theirs, and they raised 11 children and put them through college. Aunt Helen | The Gypsies. About 4 or 5 times a year a group of gypsies would stop for food. Only one with a small child would come to the door and ask for food. Mother always gave them something. Even if it was a jar of pickles. They had a way of marking where they got food for the next band that would come through. They would find a tree along side of the road with some shade and spread a sheet and put out their food. Most of the time they ate better than we did. I remember one time I was walking to town and I had to pass by them. I was so scared. But what they had to eat looked so good. They even had cake with icing. We did not get close to them as we were afraid they would kidnap us. Aunt Helen

87: The Bully. Then there were the times that Walter Louis would kick me all the way home from school and I would cry and cry. Finally Mother had enough of it and one day she was standing at the road with a stick in her hand. Walter got on the other side of the road to pass by her and he never did kick me anymore. Aunt Helen | I remember the sand was everywhere. No grass. We did not wear shoes and it was summer time and of course nothing but sand. We put cots outside and would sleep outside as it was too hot in the house. We would have sand storms like hurricanes. Dad would put rags of some kind over his nose and mouth when he was outside. The sand was s o hot and there were sand spurs everywhere, we could not close the windows because it was too hot. But the sand would blow and drift in the house and the beds, we constantly had to shake the sheets. It didn't help much as it just kept blowing. Sometimes the sand storms would last a week at a time. We were so afraid we would run out of water, so we would take a bucket of water to the garden and use a cup to put 1 cup of water on each plant. We did not waste water. We even saved our dish water from one meal to the next. Oh, how I hated washing dishes in cold greasy water. Our soap was homemade. Mother made the lye soap. We used it to wash clothes and wash dishes. If anyone heard that there was lice or the itch in school, mother would make us bathe with lye soap. We had 3 rooms. There was a bed, table and stove in the kitchen. In the living room, we had a couple of chairs, a bed and a stove to heat by. Then there was the bedroom that was Mom and Dad's room, with the bed and chest of drawers. The baby slept in one of the drawers. Aunt Helen | Our parents (Ray & Grace) took the corporal works of mercy "bury the dead" very seriously. For close neighbors and friends both Mother and Dad attended the funeral but most of the time Dad represented the family. One man from Hinton said that Ray Dougherty was pallbearer for more people in the area than anyone else he knew. Aunt Ruth Ann | Get the axe - get the axe he hollered as I ran for the wood pile. It would be used to hold the cellar door open for ventilation and could be used to chop our way out if the house blew over onto the cellar. Grandma Nowke (close friend) had come early from across the road and was already in the cellar. She lived alone and was terribly afraid of storms. She and our family filled the cellar. We sat on whatever we could find. The older children held the younger ones on their laps. My mother held the baby. A blessed candle was lit and everyone blessed themselves, including grandma. A rosary came out of my mother's pocket and we prayed that the new tomato plant would be spared from the hail and that the barn would not be blown away. Grandma, again, temporarily renounced her staunch Protestantism and answered the hail Mary's. The storm finally quieted, leaving the air fresh, and a gentle rain continued on the cellar door. The thunder was now distant. This would be our last rain for six months... The prayers ended with an Our Father, three hail Mary's, a glory-be and a thanks for the rain and the protection from the storm. Uncle Dr. Ray

88: I was proud that he was a road boss. He operated a grater while a neighbor pulled it with his small caterpillar tractor. I would have liked for him to be the one who operated the tractor, but my mother assured me that the grater was the more important job... My father helped as he directed the other workers. He was bigger and stronger than any of them, and he had an endless array of funny stories that made them laugh... [As we waited for father to come home one night] my mother told us stories about their courtship and marriage. they had fallen in love as soon as they had met, and that his mother (Julia Dolan) had become the mother that she had never known. She told about when she had given him a bouquet of flowers for his mother, and he had fallen backward into a cellar. she had laughed and he threatened never to return. There was a story about how he had saved her life when her pony had run away. On one occasion after they had married, he loosened a knot in a rope with his teeth, for a cow that was later found to have rabies, and she had watched him for weeks for a sign of rabies... She told a story that my father's mother (Julia Dolan) had told about Ireland, and how women would put a candle in the highest window in the house that looked out to the sea to direct their husbands home. It was called the widow's watch, since many of the sailors failed to return. After she told us stories, she decided to place the kerosene lamp in the north window... My father had been ready to leave work at his usual time, when a man in a business suit trudged through the snow. His family was stranded at the foot of an ice covered hill. My father started the caterpillar tractor, and for the next five hours rescued stranded motorists and their families to a shelter in a nearby restaurant. He could have spent the night at the restaurant, but by this time he was so cold, tired and confused that he could only think of getting home. | My father (Ray), as usual, had gotten out of bed long before daylight, and had built a fire in the cast iron heater. By the time I came into the room, the sides of the heater had already turned red and the room was warm. He was dressed in his overalls and work shirt and was putting heavy socks and work shoes on this big feet... The chores had to be done before he went to work. The cows fed and milked, the milk separated. The calves, hogs, bulldogs and cats had to be fed. He would saddle Babe leaving the bridle off so that she could eat hay and grain while we had breakfast with the family. I always followed along while he did the chores. He usually whistled constantly while he did them. Other times, he sang songs. I liked his Irish songs best...

89: He saddled the mare and started to put the spur on his shoe and noted the horse shy away when she heard the sound of the spur. He then realized that he did not know the direction to his home. He showed the horse the spur and then threw it into the snow. Little girl, you will never hear that spur again. He climbed into the saddle and tried to reach a St. Christopher medal that he carried in his pocket, but his hand was too cold. He tied the reins over the horses neck, grasped the saddle horn and tried to remember a prayer. He patted the horse on the neck and she was off like a bolt heading south. The snow was heavy now, and a couple of times he saw lights, but they were gone as they quickly rode by. The horse slowed as they passed a straw stack, but he knew that he was too tired to tunnel into it. On one occasion, the horse jumped a fence or a gate, and twice she jumped through the snow drift, while my father held onto the saddle horn with his frozen hands. The horse finally slowed to a slow walk, breathing hard. My father decided that they were going the wrong direction and tried to turn the horse around. He now longer cared. Then the snowing slowed, and he saw a light in the north window. He slapped the horse on the neck and then headed for home in a full gallop. | hot water and shooed us out while she bathed him, dried him and put on clean underwear, and covered his shoulders with a hot blanket. She brought him a platter filled with food, which he ate in big bites, and drank many cups of hot coffee from his favorite cup. She tucked him into their bed that had been warmed with hot bricks. Uncle Dr. Ray | When he got to the barn, he tried to get off the horse but fell to the ground and went to sleep. The horse ignored the warm barn, grain and hay. When we came running, she was pushing her nose against my father's face. We helped him up the hill, through the south door into the kitchen, where we removed his frozen gloves and socks, down to his long underwear. My mother filled a wash tub with

90: A Saint Patrick's Day Note from my Great-Great-Great Grandmother, Sadie McCoole (found under my pillow) Dear Patrick, You first noticed me hanging out there almost forgotten but on a Solid green limb of our Tree. You are wondering, what was she like, this Sadie McCoole! At the same time, I was thinking of you. Wouldn't it be nice If we could just sit down together over a good cup of coffee And visit for awhile. Well, I couldn't do that, but I can send you a brief note on St. Pat's Day. Here it is. Let me tell you a little bit about me. If you look into the eyes of your children and their children You will catch glimpses of me but only glimpses, you see, I'm always on the run because my descendants are very energetic and There are bits and pieces of me throughout our Tree. The patches of itches and twitches and unruly hair The crooked pinky and the awful ingrown toenail, those are a few of my Contributions to the living Tree. I’m still alive but rather scattered about. I’m most happy that my boisterous, unconquerable, and imperishable Dreams still thrive in the Tree, most unhappy as backup Guardian Angel. It is my business if you're not doing the right thing. Give me a break! At your reunions, give hugs to your kin and give a big wave to Sadie McCoole. I will be there spiritually in all my glory, physically, like a cloud of confetti. And by the way, Patrick, I’m glad you descended, Love, Sadie McCoole | The Great Potato Famine in Ireland lasted nine years. There were many published appeals for help. County Donegal, known today as the worldwide home of the Dougherty's, was especially hard hit. In the wilds of Donegal, down in the bogs and glens of Gweedore and Cloughaneely, thousands and thousands of human-beings, made after the image and likeness of God are perishing amid squalidness and misery, for want of food and clothing, far away from aid and pity. On behalf of these famishing victims of oppression and persecution, we appeal for substantial assistance to enable us to relieve their wretchedness, and rescue them from death and starvation. Appeal of 10 Catholic Priests. Over one million people died between 1845-1852, and another million left the country. | Top: Letter from Grandma (Grace) D. to Aunt Margaret dated April 22, 1959. Bottom: Letter from Grandma D. to Rudelle.

92: Rudelle & the mean bull: (Rudelle was the oldest of eleven children in the Dougherty family.) Overnight, in one great cloudburst, what had been a small creek bed running through the Dougherty farm became a deep canyon cutting the farm in half. Dad did not want the cattle to cross the canyon until he had constructed a secure crossing point. He risked losing the entire herd to quicksand if they tried to cross. He told Rudelle and Ray to keep the cattle away from the canyon while he went to Hinton to get supplies for building a new crossing. Rudelle jumped on Babe, their riding horse, and Ray got on behind her. They took off for the pasture to make sure none of the cattle got close to the canyon. Within the herd of cattle was a big bull with long horns and smoking nostrils. In those days, all the bulls were big and mean. The bull saw Rudelle and Ray riding towards him on the horse. He knew he had the upper hand. The bull decided this would be a good time to cross the canyon with the rest of the cattle following behind. Rudelle was determined that the bull would not cross the canyon. She kept making mad dashes at the bull trying to head him off. Ray said he remembers screaming his head off, begging Rudelle to quit the chase and go home. But Rudelle wouldn't listen. The bull kept trying to upend the horse with its long horns. Rudelle stood her ground with Ray hanging on for dear life. Dad was driving up the road on his way to town when he looked over and saw what was happening in the pasture. He parked the car along the road, jumped the fence, and broke off a fence post for a club. He ran as fast as he could towards the circling horse, his two children and the raging bull. He reached them just in time and drove the bull home and into the corral. Uncle Dr. Ray | Ellen, Ruth, Grandpa, Mary. | Lynn & Mom (Rudelle) | Grandma Dougherty & Lynn

93: Rudelle was the first child and her father's favorite. She had a pretty face, dimples and a ready smile that showed perfect teeth. She was smart and had talked early. One day when her father, following his usual routine, picked up the milk buckets from the bench on the back porch, then headed for the barn singing an Irish song, Rudelle caught up with him. “Can I help milk the cows?” she asked. “Well, I don't know,” he answered with a big smile. “Cows are mean and they don't like to be milked, especially by a girl! You have to sit on a wobbly little stool with the bucket between your knees, and the cow will do everything she can to knock you off that stool. She will swish her tail into the bucket of milk and then across your face. She will stick her foot in the bucket and just stand there.” “I will take the meanest cow,” Rudelle answered. In grade school, Rudelle had walked the half-mile to and from school twice everyday. Hinton High School, however, was 3 miles away. Hearing that Lucille Hilbert, a high school senior who lived mile north, drove her family's one-horse buggy to school everyday, Rudelle’s father arranged to pay Lucille’s father a small amount so that Rudelle would have a ride. This was fine with everyone, except Lucille, who did not want a freshman riding with her, particularly one who was a Catholic. The first morning of the arrangement, Lucille managed to come by early enough that Rudelle, running as fast as she could, got to the road just after Lucille thundered by. Running all the way to school, Rudelle went directly to Lucille’s class, which was just starting. Ignoring the teacher she went right to Lucille. “If you ever pass me up again I will pull every hair out your head, one-by-one, by the roots!” Lucille never passed her up again and they subsequently became best of friends. During her sophomore year, Rudelle rode a horse to school and the last two years she drove her father's Model-T Ford. If the car got stuck in the mud, she got out and walked. She loved high school, every subject, every teacher. Neither in grade school nor high school did she ever miss a day, nor was she ever late. After school, she gave her brothers and sisters lessons in all that she had learned, including Latin. Taking Health Class, she irritated her father by wiping the germs out of her plate before eating. She argued with him that “ain't” was not a word but found him helpful with her math homework. One evening at the supper table she sang out, “The holy roller preacher surely is a sight. He got them all to rolling and kicked out the light.” Her father looked at her with blazing eyes, “Don't ever again let me hear you say anything against another church. Your mother was raised a Baptist and she is the finest woman who ever lived.” Uncle Dr. Ray

94: It was August and early in the morning, but was already hot. Flies covered the screens and swarmed into the house. I asked my mother, again, if I could run into my father's room, not touch anything, say hello daddy, and run right out again. The answer was expected. I must wait until he was better and the doctor said it was safe... The typhoid fever would last for six weeks, and I spent most of that time peeking through a hole in the door. Getting on my hands and knees, and turning my head just right, I could see my father on the bed in what used to be the kitchen. There was an East window, which allowed the morning sun. Otherwise, a green wall was bare except for a telephone on the wall. A kerosene cookstove was in the corner. The bed was quarter size and elevated on blocks. The sheets were very white, as was my father's underwear. I could hardly distinguish my father as he lay very still. His legs were very long and white. After a week of high fever, headache and vomiting, the abdominal pain became so severe that my father finally consented to calling the doctor. The high fever, slow pulse, enlarged spleen and rose spots were typical for typhoid. The doctor had served in France during WWII, and had seen a few dozen cases of typhoid fever since. The odor was unmistakable. My father was running terrace lines on the doctor's farm about three weeks before, and had become so thirsty he thought he might die. He had underestimated the heat and the distance from the farmhouse. His crock water jug with the wet gunny sack was long ago empty. He walked to a spring, knowing it was probably dry. He went to look nonetheless. He then remembered the schoolhouse and prayed that the pump would not need priming. After pumping for a bit, the water was cool and plentiful. He filled his straw hat and drank as much as he could. He walked a short distance away and then returned to fill the hat and drank again. The disease would last another three weeks if my father survived and there were no complications or setback. He gave my mother precise instructions from which she must not waiver if my father was to live and the typhoid fever would not spread. She would stay at his bedside and constantly cool his skin with well water. There would be

95: paregoric for his abdominal pain and diarrhea. He was prescribed tincture of strychnine to help with his lassitude, but not enough to cause convulsions. Nitre would protect his kidneys. He would be allowed one cup of malted milk three times a day, not one drop more. The doctor would come every evening and give a shot of morphine to help him through the night. The doctor warned her of hemorrhage, perforation of the bowel and spread of the disease to his lungs and brain. A setback might occur just as it seemed that the battle had been won. He told my mother to leave the room once a day to cry. She could cry very easily, but she would not cry this day or for the next several weeks. When he asked if she had strength enough to care for my father, she did not tell him that she was pregnant, but he did not need to be told. His brother and sister came to stay, and everyone received their first vaccination, which made everyone sick for a couple of days. To avoid spread of the disease, his secretions must be safely collected and discarded. No one was allowed in the room except my mother. I watched through the hole, except when someone pulled me away to eat or sleep. My mother sat endlessly at the bedside with her left arm under his head, humming or singing softly to him. Three times a day, she would pull him up to a sitting position and feed him malted milk with a spoon to make it last longer. As he grew a little stronger, he also grew more demanding and belligerent. I could hear him demanding more malted milk then begging weekly for just one more drop. He asked to be allowed to go out of doors for just one second or see his children for one minute. The doctor stood firm and my mother never lost her patience. When he finally became strong enough to sit on the edge of the bed, I could see his white face covered with whiskers. His body was thin and white, and he did not look like anyone I had ever seen. One day it happened, I asked again if I could run into my father's room, not touch anything, say hello daddy, and run right back out again. My mother pulled my head against her fat breast and said yes. I was shaking all over when I squeezed through the door. My father was sitting on the side of the bed laughing at my excitement. Suddenly I was holding to his leg with all my strength. He, for a moment, patted my head and reminded me that I must go lest we both be in trouble. Memories of Dr. Ray

96: Bennett was an accomplished fiddler who traveled a lot and played at dances, and evidently wasn't one to settle in one place for too long. After the loss of two wives (due to disease), Bennett married Elizabeth Jane Beck in Greenville, Hunt County, TX in 1875, where they had Grace Missouri Etier on 1/20/1915. Bennett spoke Cajun French, Grace & her siblings did not. | The last Indian land tract (known as the "Big Pasture") opened to public settlement in OK in 1906 after having been set aside as a grazing reserve, leased to TX ranchers. Initially the land was set to open for public bids in 1901, but was delayed due to opposition from the ranchers. The Etier family was among those who finally obtained land to farm there. | Jane Beck went on horseback after the doctor on a cold night for Bennett. When she got home, she was almost frozen, took pneumonia and died. She was only 30 years old. Grace was 9 mo. Grace was 10 yrs when Bennett died. She lived with several different families, helping cook and clean and take care of children, until she met and married Ray.

97: Etier (Pronounced A-Chee) Lineage | Descendants of Bennett Etier (French) Mother: Jane Etier Etier 1. Christopher Columbus A.K.A. Lum d. 11/10/1936 2. Armica Eglentine d. Infancy Mother: Sarah Elizabeth Brownlee Etier 3. Emelie Lou [m. Ambrose Helms] d. 4/3/1946 4. Maggie Rosetta [m. M.C. (Cam) Weaver] d. 1900 5. Henry Bennett [m. Ella Francis Saunders] d. 1936 Mother: Eliza Jane Beck Etier 6. James Monroe [m. Ollie Bridges] d. 11/7/1938 7. Tiny N. [m. Sam Hart] d. 2/11/1935 8. Ona d. unmarried at about age 16 (~ 1900) 9. Louis Lee [m Linna Wallace Barnes] after 1989 10. Jesse M. [m Virgil Pharr] d. 11/17/1974 11. Roland L. [m 1) Ruth Birch 2) Olive Etier] d. 10/17/1943 12. Grace Missouri [m. Ray Dougherty] d. 1/6/1965 | Left: Lynn, Aunt Grace, Jerry, Grandma Dougherty & Grandma Buthod. The name Ethier was first found in Picardy, where the family was established in early times. Some of the first settlers of this family name were Leonard Ethier, who settled in Montreal, where he married Elisabeth Godillon in 1670. www.HouseOfNames.com | Etienne Ethier was boorn in Limoges, Limousin, France sometime in the first two decades of the 1600s. He married Marguerete Sobell, and they had a son Leonard Ethier in 1641. Leonard moved to Montreal, Province of Quebec, Canada, sometime between 1660-1670 and married Elizabeth Godelleon (who was born in Montreal) in 1670. Montreal was "founded" by the French in 1642 as a Christian mission post. It may be that Leonard and Elizabeth were part of this, as they were devout Catholics, as evidenced by the Catholic Church's detailed records of births, deaths, marriages, etc. Joseph was born in 1756 and moved to Lafayette County, LA in 1774 and married Louise Simon in 1777. They, and others, headed south to escape persecution because they refused to be recruited by the French to fight in the battle against the British over control of Nova Scotia during the Seven Years' War (French and Indian War). The Treaty of Paris (1763) gave the Louisiana territory to Spain, and many French Canadians headed to what is now known as the state of LA. Lafayette County, LA was initially settled by these and other French Canadians fleeing Nova Scotia in the mid-1700s. Eventually Bennett was born in Union County, AR. | Uncle Roland Etier, Grandma Grace’s youngest brother, was attacked by two bobcats while he was out walking. He fought them off and managed to live another day. Dr. Ray

98: Beck Lineage | 3 Davault (Daywalt/Dabolt/Theobald) Beck Born: About 1715 in Palantine-Germany (Koblenz?) Moved to Philadelphia 28 August 1750; to Rowan Co., NC c.1767 Died: After 1790 Abbotts Creek, Rowan (now Davidson) Co., NC; Monument placed at Becks UCC Church, Lexington, NC on September 30, 2000; He is listed in 1790 Census-Salisbury Dist, NC. He is in 1790 US Federal Census with Catherine .. +(#2?) Catherine ? Born: Abt. 1715 in Unknown (Probably Germany, named in husband's will) Died: Abt. 1805 in Abbotts Creek, Rowan (now Davidson) Co., NC, was called "Old Grandma from Germany" by the family; Found in 1800 Census with son Philip 4 Jacob/Jakob Beck Born: About 1739 in Germany; Moved to PA 1750; Berks Co., PA in 1753; to Rowan Co., NC 1757; to Pike County, Indiana ~1807 Died: Aug 1826 Pike Co., IN .... +Mary Winkler Born: 06 Apr 1741 in Easton, Northampton Co., PA ; they moved to Rowan (now Davidson Co., NC Married: Bef. 1762 in PA or NC Died: 10 Nov 1822 Pike Co., IN Father: Ludwig (Lewis) Winkler Mother: Katherine Dietz 5 John Beck, Sr. Born: 17 Oct 1777 in Abbott's Creek, Rowan (now Davidson) Co., NC (Tar River) Died: 14 Aug 1861 Smokemont, Oconalufty River area, Swain Co., NC ...... +Jane Swearingen Born: 07 Oct 1785 in Buncombe, Burke Co., NC Married: 1800 in Haywood Co., NC or Lincoln Co., NC Died: 09 Nov 1867 Smokemont, Swain Co., NC Father: Samuel Swearingen III Mother: Massey 6 Samuel Beck Born: 11 Apr 1806 in Haywood Co., NC or Lincoln Co., NC Died: 09 Jan 1893 Camp Shoal Creek, Jackson Co., NC ......... +Cynthia White Born: 07 Jul 1807 in Jackson, NC Married: 26 Jul 1829 in North Carolina Died: 07 May 1873 Haywood (now Jackson) Co., NC Father: Rev. Stephen White 7 William Albert Beck Born: 01 Apr 1830 in Shoal Camp Creek, Haywood (now Jackson) Co., NC Died: 06 Oct 1864 ( In Civil War battle in VA); Bur Winchester, Va Confederate Cemetery, #1341 ........... +Rachel Narcissa Elder Born: Aft. 1830 in Jackson Co., NC (1880 Census, Parker Co., TX) Married: 25 May 1849 in Macon Co., NC Died: Aft. 1880 TX Father: David Elder Mother: Susannah Hyde 8 Eliza Jane Beck Born: 1854 in Jackson Co., NC (1860 Jackson Co. NC Census; 1880 - Hunt Co., TX) Died: 1895 Hunt Co., TX ........ +Bennett Etier Born: 1842 in Ark Married: 13 Jun 1895 in Hunt Co., TX Died: 1904 9 Grace Missouri Etier Born: 20 Jul 1894 in Hunt Co., TX Died: 1965 Hinton, OK ............. +Ray Dougherty Born: 1896 in Fort Dodge, Iowa Married: 1915 in OK Died: 1983, OK 19 Mary Rudelle Dougherty Born: 1916 in Hinton, OK .............. +Arthur Paul Buthod Born: 1917 in Tulsa, OK 11 Lynn Buthod Born: 1956 in Tulsa, OK --- + George Edward Reed Born: 1951 in Cincinnati, OK | Several researchers say that all Becks in America can be traced back to Devault Beck who came to America in August of 1750. He was related to the Hapsburg royalty. | 1. Michael Beck b. Germany Married Anna Mathes 2. Johann Jakob Beck b. 1685 in Ebingen, Wuerttenberg, Germany, Married Anna Marie Hummel b. 1686

99: Right: Bennett & Jane's eldest son, James Monroe Etier. The portraits of Bennett, Jane, Lum & James were all taken on the same day by the same photographer and not too long before Jane's death. I wonder, was she pregnant with Grandma in the portrait below? | Jane Beck | Jane Beck | Christopher Columbus Etier (AKA Lum) | Right: Bennett Etier

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