When a genealogist moves into a 150-year-old home, you can bet they will turn their research skills towards the families that lived there before them. I have become good friends with the descendants of these families and call them my faux cousins. From time to time I will share a story here of My Faux Families.
Meet Nellie Gilmore Henry. She
hasn’t walked this earth since 1942, and didn’t grace this house beyond 1903.
She was not my kin, and I don’t really know very much about her. But she lives
on in my imagination and is a large part of the spirit of this house we love.
Nellie was the youngest child of
John Lewis Henry and his wife Nancy Shain, the original owners of our home. She was
born in October 1871. We know she was born in Meade County, but aren’t sure
exactly where the family was living at the time. We have reason to believe this
house was built in 1871, as a former long-time resident told us that a window
in his room had that date engraved into the glass, but the window no longer
exists.
What information does exist leads me
to believe that the house was, at least, under construction during the census
of 1870 and the family was living here on the property while building it –
perhaps in another house that no longer exists. In July of 1870, when the
census was taken, the nearest families are the same families who were here, at
this location, in the 1880 census; one of them was Nellie’s maternal uncle, who
had inherited the family farm; we know that John had purchased this property
from his wife’s brother when he married. So although Nellie may not have been
born IN this house, my gut tells me she was born on the property and moved into
the house very shortly after her birth.
She grew up here, along with three
sisters and a brother. Her siblings were about ages 6, 7, 11 and 12 when the
family moved in. My imagination tries to place the family members in their
respective bedrooms in the house: logically, with four bedrooms upstairs, the
three older sisters might share the largest front bedroom which I now use as my
craft and sewing room; David, as
the only son, probably had his own room, likely the smaller one at the back of
the house which now overlooks our lavender field. Although we of course have no
way of knowing, it makes sense that Nellie’s parents would have chosen for
themselves the large bedroom which connected to a small room that could have
been used as Nellie’s nursery.
She learned to walk here, and then
to run. Our grandkids love to run circles through the connected downstairs
rooms, which all open to each other and to the large central hallway. I’m
pretty sure theirs are not the first pounding footsteps and giggles to echo
through this house. I wonder if Nellie’s mother worried constantly, as I do,
about her child falling over the upstairs railing – which at 32” was fine for
its era but definitely would not meet today’s code requirement of at least 36”.
To my knowledge, although many small behinds have slid down this banister none
have toppled over the top.
Nellie was the popular child of
well-known, respected parents in the county, and appeared often in the social
columns of the local, small-town papers. She and her siblings kept busy with
parties, picnics and other outings, and as she got older she travelled often to
Louisville, Owensboro and beyond for shopping and social events. Facebook may
not have existed back then, but never underestimate the power of small-town
journalism to document the little daily details of life – we know, for
instance, that in April 1895, Nellie was sporting a sling as her shoulder had
been dislocated by a kicking cow.
Nellie was married to her handsome
sweetheart, William Floyd Roberts, in February 1897. Floyd was the son of a
blacksmith who also ran the post office in nearby Irvington, and he worked
there with his father.
According to local papers, the
wedding was held here in the front parlor. It was at 3:00 in the afternoon on a
February weekday. The curtains were drawn and the room filled with flowers and
greenery. Light refreshments were served here, then the wedding party travelled
to the nearby farm of Floyd’s grandfather, known as Sunnyslope, where his
maiden aunts threw a lavish reception for them.
From the Breckinridge News, March 3 1897 account of Nellie's
wedding. This is how I learned our house had a name.
After the wedding, the couple briefly lived with the priest at Mt. Merino Catholic Church (just over the hills behind Fairview) and kept house for him before buying their own farm in the nearby town of Guston. In July of 1898, Nellie and her daughter Katherine "took ill with malaria and chills” and was sick for several months. In November, pregnant and visiting her parents here at Fairview, she became too ill to travel back to her own farm. Her daughter Mary Nancy was born here in February 1899. There may have been other babies born here, but this one has been confirmed and the event lives on in my imagination – I picture it in our pretty little back guest room, with mother Nancy in attendance and possibly her older sisters as well.
Nellie has left her mark on this house in more ways than one. Hanging above the desk in my study is the lone surviving original window, no longer functioning except in an inspirational way, for there are messages from the past etched into it. First is Nellie’s signature: “Nellie Henry, March 18, 1891” – which is perplexing, because Nellie would have been 20 and plenty old enough to expect her mother’s wrath when her scratches were discovered. But Nellie wasn’t alone; the initials “RWH, April 5 1891” are right below Nellie’s name, and we haven’t figured out who this is. It could be her sister Rhoda, but her middle initial was F and she had been married for 10 years by this time. And another mystery inscription: “Robert left May 31, 1897 for Denver, Colorado”. After wondering and searching for clues for years, I very recently discovered a newspaper clipping about a local boy, Robert Moreman, who arrived in Denver in July 1897. But I have no clue why someone in this family was moved enough by his departure to carve it into the window glass – all the girls in the family were married. Perhaps he was just a childhood friend.
Original window with inscriptions. This actually shows the shadow of the inscriptions on the wall behind the window, which is much easier to read.
Shortly after moving into this house I began to research its history, and connected through Ancestry.com to living family members descended from John Lewis and Nancy (Shain) Henry. We have become friends over the years and share our love of genealogy and history in general, and this house in particular. They don’t live in the area and weren’t aware of the house, but have since become regular visitors. On their first visit, they brought me an amazing gift: a houseplant, a Christmas cactus, taken from cuttings of a plant that was grown by Nellie herself. I have a very bad track record with houseplants, but have managed to keep this one alive and after a few years it finally began to bloom; every time I look at it I think of Nellie and hope she is pleased.
Nellie was an old woman when the older members of this family knew her, known affectionately as Fat Mammy. She and her family left Meade County in the late 1920's to be near their grown children in Marion County, Indiana. Nell passed away at age 72 in 1942. But I am a genealogist, and we like to believe that as long as we tell their stories they live on - so, meet Nellie.
Nell "Fat Mammy" and Floyd Roberts
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