Tag Archive | Davidson

Curiosity, a scrap book, a music box and my heritage

After having my first child in 1986 and as many new mother’s do, I became curious about my own identity and the culture in which I grew up. I began to ask questions of my mother, Nannie Lucille Davis Buckland, who was sharp as a tack. Mother remembered a good bit of information and knew others who could add to the recollections. Dad (the Railroader) knew plenty of cousins and had visited most of them at one point of another. Mom reached out to her sister Jo Ella inquiring about their grandparents. Aunt Jo’s hesitancy came with a stern warning that I ‘better not dig too deep because I might uncover a horse thief’. That comment sparked an even greater curiosity and indeed, I dug deeper and deeper into my maternal ancestry, tracing and chasing generations of Virginia pioneers and patriots that would later qualify me for DAR membership. What I did discover — that she did not want me to uncover, was that my great grandmother, Nancy Catherine Jessee Davis (her grandmother) had her first child out of wedlock and was subsequently married five (5) times after that. Each husband passed away and left her a widow dependent on finding the next man to support her. And so it goes in many families as they sift through the memories of the elderly or examine countless Bible entries, pictures with nothing on the back or pictures with the mother load written on the back. Obituaries, census records and cemeteries became my closest friends. Today’s entry shares the rich vein of precious keepsakes that became mine after the death of the Railroader in 1993.

(1) His mother, Mary Jane Davidson Buckland, kept a burgandy scrap book (circa 1930) with an embossed windmill on the cover. She filled it with calling cards, poems, Norfolk & Western trip passes and newspaper engagement announcements. Each of Grandmother Buckland’s yellowed pages were windows into the treasured details and valuable records of her own story – my story too! On the inside cover is a business card with L. W. Buckland, 619 Bluefield Ave., Bluefield WV. Delegate Bluestone Lodge No. 446 B. of L.F. and E. (the local unions representing N & W Locomotive Fireman and Engineers). The card indicated that Grandaddy Buckland had represented his union as a delegate in St. Paul, Minnesota at the 1910 Twelfth Biennial Convention.

Mary Jane Davidson Buckland

My grandparents own marriage announcement had been trimmed from the local newspaper and was glued in the top left corner of the first page of her scrap book. It read, ” Marriage” “Miss Mary J. Davidson, daughter of Granger Davidson and Mr. Larkin W. Buckland, of Falls Mills, were married at the home of the bride on last Wednesday at noon. Rev. S.O. Hall, pastor of the Presbyterian church, performed the ceremony. Geo. Buckland, a brother, and two sisters — Mrs. Wimmer, (bride’s sister Sally Elizabeth Davidson who married LW’s cousin Robert Bob Johnson Wimmer) and Mrs. Fields, (groom’s sister Cora Belgium Buckland) accompanied the groom to Tazewell. After a delightful dinner at the Davidson home, the bride and groom left for their home in Bluefield, where Mr. Buckland is located as a brakeman of the N. and W.” Grandmother penciled in the date down the side of the entry, March 3, 1909.

The tattered and faded clippings opened up a world of information for me to trace the lineage of so many in her family and in the community of Falls Mills. The obituary of her uncle Rev. D. A. Daugherty led me to discover his and his wife’s final resting place in Marrs Cemetery on a hillside, behind a barn where horses were allowed to roam freely. As of this date, I’d be surprised if the headstone markers are anything more than small broken pieces of granite.

A tiny one column inch press clipping confirmed the death of her younger sister Nannie Crockett Davidson McHaffa who was buried with their parents in Mays Chapel Cemetery at Whitten’s Mill.

Obits for my great grandparents are securely adhered to the pages, along with ‘Shocking Tragedies’, ‘Death of a Colored Man’, ‘Rail Man Dies in Tug River Wreck’, ‘Full Details of Tragedy May Never Be Known’, ‘Mrs. Keister is Taken by Death’. Other, more uplifting saves were the Bible Quiz and answers that ran regularly in the Bluefield Daily Telegraph, Silver Wedding Anniversaries, School Plays and Dr. O.K. Phlegm who recently made his two-thousandth trip with the stork!

(2) The antique photo album music box filled with vintage pictures of her family members and most with the names written in pencil on the back in Grandmother’s own hand writing led to more discovery. The Victorian leather book has a wonderful stag and doe on the front and an ornate clasp to keep closed. The rotating cylinder still turns flat metal springs that pluck to produce the music. The label indicates it plays ” Creoles Bells and Starts Spangled Banner”. I’m not sure of the latter but it does still play Creoles Bells.

David and Nannie Daugherty

The wonderful pictures inside lead to Clearfolk, just out the road from Tazewell. There the Gregory’s lived, and I have visited cemeteries there and walked on land where my great grandmother Eliza Greever Gregory Davidson lived growing up. I have a beautiful blue and white Chrtwright Brothers tea pot of hers which I love. To walk where she had grown up near Shawver’s Mill was surreal. Her father, Daniel Parham Gregory donated land there for the Christian Church that still stands. (2025) Daniel married Mary Jane Daugherty. Her younger brother was David Daugherty. This is the same (DD) uncle that Grandmother Buckland had posted his obituary in her scrapbook, and that Dad and I visited at Marrs Cemetery in a Falls Mills barnyard. When I turned one of the thick pages of the album to discover a picture of her Uncle David Daugherty and his wife, Nancy Lain Moore, I was thrilled.

Heritage and Hardship: The Real Appalachia

Come along as I share our story…

Nestled in the foothills of East River Mountain, placed appropriately along narrow winding roads wrapping in and around Virginia’s rocky creek banks, are small communities where our people have lived. Falls Mills, Clearfork, Pocahontas, Rocky Gap and Mudfork are all in the county of Tazewell. The people living on the hillsides and in the hollows between the mountains have been there most of their lives. Even for hundreds of years, the traditions of backwoods life have remained the same. Countercultures gradually influenced the attitudes and practices of the young, but many continue to live simply, just as their parents and grandparents before them. Generations have lived, raised their families and are laid to rest among their deeply planted roots – beneath the show of the mountains in a region known as Appalachia.

A snow-covered log cabin in winter, symbolizing the traditional Appalachian lifestyle. This cabin was built in the early 1800’s by one of Bluefield’s first settlers, Joseph Davidson – my 4th great grandfather. In 1939 it was relocated to Bluefield City Park in Mercer County, WV.
L-R LW Buckland, Porter Jones, RC Buckland, Sr, Jackie Jones, Cecil Buckland (RC Jr) and a man named Criggar

Men in Appalachia are known by biblical names like Jacob, Samuel or Daniel. When harvest time is over, they cloak themselves in long johns, flannel shirts and heavy winter coats and hats, then disappear into the woods. Hunting deer and bear and sometimes rabbit or squirrel seems to be their passion, and also a source for providing food for the family.

After hunting season, these rugged men go back to working serious jobs like coal mining or railroading. In spite of good wages, those who are brave enough to travel deep into the earth digging out coal deposits look forward to the day they can move on to hauling coal for the railroad company. Huge iron steam engines spewing out clouds of white smoke surrendered themselves to streamline diesel locomotives. In the coal fields dust settles on houses and cars like a veil of soot, clinging to surfaces and obscuring them. Everyone knows that coal mines reluctantly give of themselves – often collapsing on those within, taking fathers and brothers to an early grave. Some workers escape being crushed in a coal shaft only to eventually fall victim to the agonizing death of black lung disease.

Christian Church on Mudfork Road in Falls Mills, Virginia

On Sundays, the families living along these ridges and within the valleys put on their best clothes. It may be a hand-me-down suit that belonged to Uncle Charlie Davidson or that special print dress with a ruffle that grandmother made. And after church, they all go to relatives houses and eat a home cooked dinner with all the fixings and talk about nothing. They sit around the kitchen table or on the front porch glider and eat dessert and drink coffee. The children play in the yard and climb the weeping willow tree until evening when it’s time to go back to church. These mountain people are serious about God’s example to rest on Sunday. God created them and their mountains; they believe it.

Not so different from the men, women in the mountains of southwest Virginia are also accustomed to hard work. It seems to be their calling in life to raise children and keep the house. The kitchens where Sarah, Mary Jane or Bertha live always smell good from cooking and canning. To avoid being wasteful, the homemaker puts leftovers on a plate over the warm stove. Cold cornbread will likely be eaten later, crumbled in buttermilk. When winter’s weather blankets the summer, Appalachian women gather by the fireplace in the living room to quilt. They embroider family names and special dates on their patchwork quilts. They look at family photographs of expressionless faces hanging on the wall and record births, marriages and deaths in the family Bible. God and family are most important.

In the fall of the year, children climb the colorful mountains painted with autumn leaves, and they run through the woods. They get stained hands from scooping up black walnuts covered in a thick outer husks and prickly fingers from plucking chestnut-like chinquapins from spiny burrs. Winter’s snow encourages the children to ride their sleds for hours on end. There’s no need for costly toys in Appalachia because they love the outdoors and have no expectation of more. They feel safe playing within the protective natural boundary of the mountains, isolated from a world they’ve never seen.

When someone dies, Appalachian people gather at a wake where they view the body and pay their respects. The women cook and take food to feed and comfort, and to show compassion to the grieving family. The men sit alongside each other with tears in their eyes, and they share stories they fondly remember. The funeral procession from the chapel to the cemetery is long and stately and somewhat presidential. Cars line up behind the hearse, following ceremoniously down winding roads to the cemetery. People gather round and the men reverently remove their hats. The minister speaks again, and everyone stays at the graveyard until the body is respectfully at rest in the family plot.

Webster defines Appalachia as the highland region of the eastern United States extending from northern Pennsylvania through northern Alabama, characterized generally by poverty. Literally, this is true. Appalachia is an area of mountains and hollows scattered with dirty, rut roads leading to worn-out wooden shacks and privies. The people work long hours and hard jobs and have little hope for relief. Nevertheless, Appalachia is much more than a region of impoverished mountain people. Appalachia is home to an honorable way of life filled with a wealth of good values, contentment, and appreciation for life. Appalachia is home to God-fearing people who know who they are and what life means – accepting the blessings of a rich heritage and salvation from the Savior.

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“I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and her offspring; He shall bruise your head and you shall bruise His heel.” Genesis 3:15

From the moment that Adam and Eve rebelled against God, the greatest need the world has had is a Savior. That Savior was promised in the above scripture and Jesus Christ is the fulfillment of that prophecy.

Vintage Calling Cards from Grandmother’s Scrapbook

CALLING CARD Nannie R Gillespie

My grandmother, Mary Jane Davidson Buckland kept a scrapbook that has been a wealth of information in searching family history and is a unique and interesting piece that the Railroader had for many years and now I’m glad to have it. Among the various newspaper clippings of wedding, obituaries and railroad accidents, MJ had carefully glued these calling cards to the pages of her precious scrapbook.

DAVIDSON Mary Jane 1886-1960 2013-10-05 08.46.17 2013-10-05 08.46.26

“In the day of genteel manners and formal introductions,the exchange of calling cards was a social custom that was essential in developing    friendships. The custom of carrying calling or visiting cards began in France in the early 1800’s.  It quickly spread throughout Europe, and then became vastly popular in the United States, especially the New England area from 1840-1900.  Calling cards were carried primarily by the “well-to-do” ladies who made a point to  go calling on friends and family on a specified day of the week or month, depending on their location and proximity to neighbors. The gracious reserve of a simple calling card is a gentle reminder of one’s presence, and the care poured into a finely crafted card is a welcome courtesy.” …a history of Victorian calling cards.
Calling Card RM Baldwin

Calling Card AE Griffith

CALLING CARD Marion Knighten

Calling Card Mildred Louise Phillips

Calling Card Miss Ellen Stuart Bowen

Calling Card Miss Frances Henry Odom

Calling Card Miss Ruth Gardner

CALLING CARD Mrs Harry C. Preston

Calling Card Mrs Samuel Cecil Graham

Calling Card William Harrison

Vintage Photo Album Music Box

Mary Jane (Davidson) Buckland was the railroader’s mother, my grandmother. I have her vintage music box – photo album full of family photographs and it has been a treasure of information to me in researching our family history. Researching ancestors is a bit like working a jigsaw puzzle. Each little bit of information is a clue to the larger picture or leads to fitting yet another piece of the puzzle into place. Between Grandmother Buckland’s SCRAPBOOK and this album of old family pictures, I’ve been able to piece together a few wonderful details.

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Just inside the family keepsake, on the first page is a picture of Mary Jane’s parents. Erastus Granger Davidson and Eliza Greever Gregory. They were married on January 20, 1880 in Tazewell County, VA. (source TC Courthouse Vol 3, pg 54 line 9)

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Page 2 is the precious baby picture Mary Jane & Watt’s 3rd born child,
my Aunt Bertha Ward (Buckland) Lawrence.     9/19/1911 – 10/06/1975

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Page 3 is a very old image of the husband of MJ’s grand aunt, Mary Clay Gregory. Mary Clay married John D. Peery on October 8, 1848
John Drew Peery 10/01/1807 – 07/29/1894
Mary Clay Gregory 04/03/1828 – 07/20/1880

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And her cousin, John Peery (picture taken April 1987)

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Her family photograph (back row l-r) Cosby Isabell, Mary Jane, Charles Lewis, Sallie Elizabeth
Samuel Patton, Granger & Eliza DAVIDSON, Nannie Crockett, Luther Hufford

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MJ’s grand uncle (her grandmother’s brother) David Allen Daugherty  (see blog post)

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Other pictures include Luther Hufford Davidson (MJ’s brother) and two GREGORY couples that I need to identify and find their place on their tree.

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