Anyone seen a plantation around here?

My aunt lives in Meehan, Mississippi where she married Robert McQueen about fifty years ago. She told me one day an old black man came knocking on her door. She lives in the middle of nowhere, so a stranger knocking on her door was highly unusual. But being in the friendly South (and the fact that she always has a loaded pistol on her), she wasn’t concerned with not knowing the stranger, so she opened the door. He offered to sell her some vegetables. I don’t know if she bought them or not, but the two struck up a conversation.

He asked her if she knew the old Allen Plantation. He said his grandfather worked on it his whole life and it was around the area somewhere. She told him her mother-in-law was an Allen, but she didn’t know if they had a plantation, and she wondered why she had never heard of a family plantation before now.

I began searching for clues. Draw yourself a diagram and follow along. My aunt’s in-laws were William “Mac” McQueen and Mabel Allen, who was the daughter of Preston and Minnie Allen. Mabel’s uncle (Preston’s brother) was Joe Oliver Allen who married Amelia Hand. The couple lived in Amelia’s parents house (Alexander Trotter and Eliza Hand), and after her parents died, the property naturally transferred into the Allen family. I’m convinced the photograph below (circa 1903) is the family plantation the man on my aunt’s porch was speaking of, and if you look on the far left side, you’ll see a black man in the background. His name is George Weeks. My aunt never saw her visitor again, and I wonder if this man in the photo is the grandfather he spoke of.

mcqueen allen home 1903 see notesThe home was located in southwestern Lauderdale County, MS on Point-Wanita Lake Road, just south of Meehan.

Sitting Down in the middle is Eliza O’Ferrall Hand

The two little girls with Eliza are her granddaughters, Alda Allen and Marion Inez Allen.

To the left, Eliza’s daughter Amelia Hand Allen and Amelia’s husband Joe Oliver Allen. Amelia is holding their daughter Velma Estelle Allen.

To the right in the fancy hat is Eliza’s daughter Corette Hand.

The following info is from al and mary dot org

“Note the black man to the far left of the picture. His name is George Weeks. I have been told that right after the Civil War, George showed up at the Hand home, hungry, ragged, and able to speak only a few words of English. He was obviously just a few years from Africa and very confused. The Hand family took him in and he worked for them the rest of his life. The A. T. Hands moved into this home about 1878. Several years after this picture was taken, the old home burned, and the Allens rebuilt on the same site. I can remember the Allen home, having visited there with my parents in the late 1930’s or early 1940’s. What I remember most about the home was a spring located across the road from the house with a hydraulic ram that pumped water up the hill and across the road to a tank that was located to the left of the home.” ~ Albert H Spinks, April 23, 2001.

Goodreads Giveaway of “Stuckey’s Bridge”

Stuckey's cover_webIn preparation for the coming release of “Stuckey’s Legacy: The Legend Continues”, Goodreads is hosting a giveaway of the first book, “The Legend of Stuckey’s Bridge.” There are 20 paperbacks available and the drawing runs through April 10th. Hop over there and claim your FREE copy. Here’s the link —> GOODREADS GIVEAWAY!

Here’s the blurb and the creepy book trailer…

In 1901, the Virginia Bridge & Iron Company began re-building a fifty-year-old Mississippi bridge. In the middle of the project, they began discovering bodies buried on the banks of the river.

Legend has it, he was so evil, he was even thrown out of the notorious Dalton Gang. Years later, he opened an inn near the river, and on foggy nights, boatmen witnessed him pacing back and forth across the bridge, waving his lantern, offering travelers a hot meal and a soft bed.

Those unfortunate enough to take him up on the hospitality were often never seen again.

To this day, eerie experiences are still reported around the bridge that now bears his name, but not much else is known about the man locals refer to as Old Man Stuckey…until now.

Book cover and video trailer by Elite Book Design

Uncle Bluitt

culpepper Andrew Bluitt CulpepperThe Rev. Andrew Bluitt Culpepper was my grandfather’s uncle (little brother of Aunt Dora in THIS blog). He died in 1952, so I never met him, but I remember the family bringing his name up on occasion, and he was always referred to as Uncle Bluitt. The name came from his great grandmother, Elizabeth “Betty” Bluett or Bluitt. The spelling changed with each generation, and every generation has at least one male with Bluett in his name.

Uncle Bluitt was the youngest of 6 children of Joel Bluett Culpepper and Mary E “Mollie” McFarland. He was born in Alabama in 1882. Before 1890, the family moved to Kemper County, Mississippi.

 

culpepper Andrew Bluitt and Ollie KitrellWhen he was 21, he married Ollie Mae Kitrell.

culpepper Curtis and Obbie sons of Andrew Bluitt Culpepper

 

A year later, they had a son, Louis Curtis Culpepper, and three years later, another son, William Obie Culpepper.

 

 

Uncle Bluitt died at the age of 71, and his obit claims he was the pastor of more rural churches than any preacher in Mississippi, and his death certificate states he was also a barber. He died following a stroke, which is not an unusual thing with the males of my family. One of his uncles, (I can’t remember which one off the top of my head) was said to have died of a stroke while preaching in the pulpit. Pastors and strokes run in the clan. Uncle Bluitt is laid to rest with his wife and sons at Pine Grove Baptist Church and Cemetery in Lauderdale County, Mississippi.

culpepper, andrew bluitt and ollie kittrell

 

Andrew Bluitt Culpepper obituary

Rev. A. B. Culpepper, 71, Martin community, Lauderdale County, passed away Wednesday, Feb. 24. he had been a Baptist minister for 40 years. It was claimed that he had been pastor of more rural churches than any preacher in Mississippi.

Burial was in Pine Grove Cemetery. The Rev. Edward McKeithen, pastor of the Pine Grove Church, officiated, assisted by Rev. Ed Grayson and Rev Truly Reynolds.

He was a member of the Pine Grove Church. Survivors include his widow, Mrs. Ollie Kittrell Culpepper, two sons, Curtis and Obbie Culpepper, 8 grandchildren, and 7 great-grandchildren.

Saturday Snippet – Okatibbee Creek

okatibbee_cover frontIt’s been a while since I posted a snippet. The following is from my book Okatibbee Creek. The heroine of the story is my 3rd great grandmother. She barely survived the Civil War and typhoid running rampant through her family. In this scene, the war is over and disease has passed, she is older and having a discussion with the slave who raised her.

*************************************************************

I look up and see Bertie slowly walking up the road toward daddy’s house. She’s wearing a dark blue dress and a floppy straw hat covering her eyes.

“Hi, Miss Bertie,” I yell to her as I wipe away my tears and put a smile on my face.

“Hi, baby girl.” She waves back.

“What brings you out on this lovely morning?” I ask when she finally reaches the porch and plops down on the step. She takes off her hat and reveals her gray hair tied in a bun. She sets her hat next to her and wipes beads of sweat off her forehead with her handkerchief.

“I was just on my way to your house to see the babies and to see how you are doing,” she says as she tucks her handkerchief back into her sleeve.

I can tell by her demeanor that there is something more on her mind, but I figure she will tell me when she is ready.

“Well, it’s nice to see you. We are all doing fine at home,” I reply.

“That’s good to hear, baby girl.”

“Bertie, I’m forty-one years old. How long are you going to call me baby girl?” I tease her.

She laughs. “You have been my baby girl since I came to your daddy’s house when you were six years old. You will always be my baby girl.”

“Aw, you know I love you, Miss Bertie.” I reach over and pat her bony hand.

“And I love you, too, baby girl. You know, you have always been the smartest and most beautiful of your momma’s children. And with everything you have been through, you have become the strongest and most courageous woman I have ever known.”

She pauses and looks out across the yard as her mind wanders to another time and place. After a moment she adds, “Your momma and daddy would be very proud of you, but it was a blessing they were not around to witness all the pain and loss we went through.” She pauses again and looks out across the yard. “You’re also a wonderful mother.”

I can tell she’s leading up to something.

“I don’t know what I would have done without you, Bertie. You helped me through so much.”

“I know what you went through, baby girl. I witnessed it all. I have seen you stand strong in the face of disaster and death and sickness and hunger. You have faced every adversity with courage and every defeat with dignity and grace. I’m very proud of you, more than you’ll ever know.”

My eyes well up with tears as I feel a mixture of being touched by her kind words, and trepidation that she is going somewhere awful with this talk.

“Bertie, your love has been one of the reasons I have been able to be strong and steadfast. Together, we have laughed and cried through so much,” I say as I stare straight ahead at the field.

Memories come flooding back, along with the sadness and the happiness. Rice, Daddy, Momma, Monroe Franklin. I shake the memories off and look back at Bertie.

“I have the feeling you weren’t headed all the way to my house just to tell me you’re proud of me.” I stop and wait for her to speak.

“Well, baby girl, like I said, you have always been the smartest of your momma’s children.” She takes a deep breath and exhales. I wait patiently as I watch her build up her courage. “Well, I have not been feeling very well lately and I saw the doctor. He said he can’t do much for me and I may not be around much longer. You know I have raised Tony as my own since his parents died of the fever. He’s only thirteen and not quite ready to face the world on his own just yet.” She looks away. I can tell she is trying to get through this speech without crying. Finally, she turns to me and looks me straight in the eye. “I want to ask you to take care of Tony when my time comes. I can rest easy if I know you will do that for me.”

“What? Bertie, of course I will take care of Tony. But I don’t want to hear anything about you being gone. We’ve been through too much together and everything finally seems to be turning around for the better.” I pause, wondering if that is really true. Is everything going to be all right?

I continue, “We’ve walked straight through the midst of hell and we are just now starting to find our way back.”

“I hope you’re right, baby girl, but we can’t control what the good Lord wants to do. We just have to handle it the best we can when it comes.”

I nod and quietly say, “Bertie, I will do whatever you need me to do.”

“I know you will, baby girl. I just thought it would be nice to ask.” She winks at me.

Using both arms to lift herself, Bertie slowly rises from the step. I stand up, too, and she gives me a long hug. She puts her hat on and carefully steps away from the porch, heading toward the dirt road. I yell “goodbye” to her and she waves her hand behind her head without turning around. She walks very, very slowly, favoring one leg more than the other, and I watch her until she shuffles out of sight.

**********************************************

Lori Crane Books at Amazon and on audiobook at Audible.

Happy 143rd Birthday, Aunt Dora!

culpepper mary eudora culpepper saterfiel familyMary Eudora Culpepper Saterfiel Watson was born March 31, 1871.

She is pictured here in the center with her husband WB Saterfiel to the left, her father JB Culpepper to the right, and her children from left to right in front Dewey Oliver Saterfiel and baby Alma. In the back row, left to right, Evie Mae Saterfiel Hodges, Indeola “Necie” Saterfiel Byrd, Willie Carlos Saterfiel, Adie Joseph Saterfiel.

Side note: I ordered my grandparent’s marriage license and the witness was D.O. Saterfiel, the little guy. He was my grandpa’s cousin. I sometimes forget these people knew each other. 🙂

She was my grandpa’s aunt Dora. She was born to Joel B Culpepper and Mary E “Mollie” McFarland in Sumter County, Alabama, as the only girl with five brothers. There was another girl born to the union, but she died at birth. Aunt Dora was the eldest of the children, so I imagine she was the caregiver to her little brothers. At some point when the children were little, the family moved to Kemper County, MS. After her mother’s death in 1908, her father moved in with her for a short time. That’s when this photo was taken. Shortly after this, he was placed in a soldier’s home in Biloxi, MS, where he died less than a year later, on Nov. 11, 1911. Dora was 40.

culpepper Mary Eudora Culpepper SaterfielWhen she was about 19, she married William Bartley Saterfiel around 1890 and had six children. Three of her children married into the Hodges family. Mr. Hodges married three times, and with each union came more children. The three Saterfiel children married a Hodges child from each of the three wives. The Hodges/Saterfiel family reunion must be confusing.

She lost her youngest child in 1912. Baby Alma was only five years old when she died, not very long after the top photo was taken.

Following her husband’s death in 1925, she married GW Watson in 1929. Though she was married to Mr. Watson for 21 years, her headstone reads Eudora Saterfiel and her obit says nothing of Mr. Watson’s children. She died at the age of 78. Her obit is as follows:

culpepper, mary eudora culpepper saterfiel watsonFriday, January 6, 1950

Mrs. G. W. Watson

Mrs. G. W. Watson of Collinsville died Friday at St. Joseph Hospital, following a heart attack. Funeral will be held Sunday at 2 p.m. from the Union Funeral Home. The Rev. Edward McKeithen officiating. Interment will be in Union. Survivors include three sons: A. J. and D. O., Collinsville, and W. C. Saterfiel, Causeyville: Two daughters, Mesdames Joe Byrd and George Hodges, Collinsville: several grandchildren and great-grandchildren.  

Her father, husband, and baby Alma are buried at Zion Cemetery, Kemper Co, MS. She and her other children are buried at Pine Grove Cemetery in Lauderdale Co, MS. Mr. Watson and his first wife are buried at Memorial Park in Newton Co, MS.

To be inspiring!

Being inspiring for other’s creativity is so awesome… as I usually struggle with my own.

Here are a couple nuggets inspired by my book The Legend of Stuckey’s Bridge. Granted, I didn’t create the legend, but I’m happy to have brought it back to life and more than thrilled that others have been touch by the book enough to put their time and talents to it.

The first is a folk song written by Kris Carmichael.

The second is a blog post at Lowry Wilson’s page along with his conceptual photography you just have to check out.

It’s a little creep, no? 🙂

My Grandmah – the Doctah

In the early 1900s, my great grandmother, Nancy Didama Spencer Burke (Grandma Damie) was a doctor. She rode around the back hills of Newton County, Mississippi, taking care of the sick. She didn’t ride in a car. She rode side-saddle, and a woman doctor was a rare thing.

Many moons ago, women were the caretakers and caregivers, but at some point the medical power was given over to men. Gaining that power back was a hard door to open.

T909228_08It was opened by Elizabeth Blackwell (pictured left) in the mid-1800s. Miss Blackwell was born in England, but raised in America. A dying female friend told her she would have suffered far less if her physician had been a woman. This statement encouraged Elizabeth to pursue a career in medicine. She was told she would never become a doctor, because there was no schooling available for a woman, but that didn’t stop her from applying to every medical school in the country. Finally, as a joke, she was voted into Geneva Medical College in New York. I can only imagine the ridicule she received at the all-male school. But she showed them. She graduated first in her class in 1849 and later studied surgery, midwifery, and obstetrics. One can imagine she had very few patients and no camaraderie, but she persevered. Keep in mind this was 100 years before women even got the right to vote. She was a strong and intelligent woman.

She paved the path for many women in the field of medicine – even Grandma Damie.

STUCKEY’S LEGACY Sneak Peek

As I was writing “The Legend of Stuckey’s Bridge,” I came across the most amazing fictional character. He is eccentric, charming, rich, and good looking, mixed with a heaping tablespoon of psychopath. I am completely obsessed with him and his story. What if someone in the story is not as impressed with him as I? What if that person would rather see him dead?

unnamedThere is an undeniable sequel to “The Legend of Stuckey’s Bridge”  – “Stuckey’s Legacy: The Legend Continues” – available June 1st in paperback, Kindle, Nook, and iBook.

For my dear friends and faithful readers, here’s a sneak peek. It will give you a flavor of my new favorite psycho Levi.

*************************************************

December 31, 1911 11:59 p.m.

“…five…four…three…two…one…Happy New Year!” the crowd chanted in unison and the orchestra began to play “Auld Lang Syne.” Balloons fell from the ceiling and confetti was tossed from the mezzanine. It fluttered to the floor, covering couples who clung together on the ballroom’s massive dance floor. Wine flowed and lovers kissed, and twenty-two-year-old Levi stood off to the side, sipping his champagne, observing the festivities with a mixture of apathy and loathing.

A gentleman in a crumpled tuxedo, heading toward the bar, staggered by him and nodded. Levi coldly nodded back, hoping the intoxicated man wouldn’t stop to chat. He was here to observe and mingle, not to spend the evening listening to a slurring drunkard. It had taken him a decade to get into this elite circle and he wasn’t going to let some sot spoil it. He downed the remaining liquid, plopped his empty champagne glass on the nearest table, and quickly moved across the room.

Following a magnificent dinner of pheasant and turkey in the Grand Dining Room, he had thus far spent the evening strolling around the luxurious Jekyll Island Club, chatting with people with familiar surnames—Firestone, Carnegie, Rockefeller, Vanderbilt. He introduced himself to them as Levi Temple, a business partner of the late Cornelius Bliss.

Temple wasn’t his real name, though he had been using it for the last ten years. Most people in his hometown of Meridian, Mississippi, would remember him as Levi Stuckey, the boy who’d mysteriously disappeared following the hanging of his father from the iron rails of Stuckey’s Bridge. His father was Thomas Stuckey. He wasn’t Levi’s real father, but when someone back in those days assumed he was, Levi never bothered to correct them. As a matter of fact, Stuckey wasn’t that man’s real name, either. He took it from one of his victims, a man named Carter Stuckey. Carter Stuckey had spent the night at Thomas’s inn on his way to deliver a trunk to Vicksburg—a trunk full of gold. Not many visitors ever left that inn, especially visitors who carried great wealth. Carter Stuckey fit that description, meeting his demise for being a deliveryman. Thomas Stuckey never got to enjoy the gold he stole, though. He was strung up for murder before he even viewed the sparkling contents of the trunk.

Following Thomas’s hanging, twelve-year-old Levi disappeared with the trunk. He took a horse and wagon and rode away from Meridian with the trunk, and he didn’t leave a trace.

After he fled, he dropped the name Stuckey so he’d never be associated with Thomas, Carter, or the missing trunk of gold. He considered taking back his given name, but he didn’t want to be linked to the sack of crap who owned that name, either. It had been so long since he’d used his real name, he could barely remember what it was. So, after a quick deliberation, he took the name of the only man he’d ever trusted, the sheriff of Lauderdale County—J.R. Temple. Yes, Temple was a good name, a good name from a good man. Levi always felt a tinge of remorse for disappearing and leaving Sheriff Temple to wonder what happened to him, but at the time he didn’t have a choice. He deserved more in life than a stolen name and a tainted past with murderers, drunks, and whores. The gold could give him the future he wanted.

Since the moment he left Lauderdale County, Levi had spent every waking hour infiltrating the inner circle of high society, and as of tonight, he had finally arrived. So far, this seemed a very good place to be. He sipped imported sparkling champagne as he socialized with gentlemen in expensive tuxedos, beautiful women adorned with exceptional jewels, and even a few servants who scurried around catering to the social elite. Though he wasn’t born into this circle, and he thought most of them idiots who were beneath him, he felt at home here. He was finally receiving the respect he deserved.

As the orchestra struck up a lively ragtime tune, Levi walked toward the patio door to step outside and get a breath of fresh air. His heels clicked on the marble floor as he passed velvet chaise lounges and crystal chandeliers. The leaded-art glass was a sight to behold and the classical details of the mansion were breathtaking. He would have a house this fine someday.

He found the patio alit with lanterns and twinkling holiday lights, flanked by sweeping staircases that led down to the beach. The half moon shone brightly in the winter sky, and an ocean breeze rustled through his dark blond hair. He closed his eyes for a moment and enjoyed the gentle wind on his face. He took a deep breath of the ocean draft. It smelled like fresh linen hung on the line. He opened his eyes and looked around. Baskets filled with late-blooming roses were spaced intermittently around the cement patio. Other than the fragrant flowers, he found the patio nearly empty. Everyone was inside on the dance floor celebrating the arrival of the new year. Everyone except that brunette he had been eyeing all evening.

He had noticed her hours earlier, the moment she entered the front door. She was petite but floated into the room like she owned the place, all willowy with a smoky air about her. Her charcoal-lined eyes were dark and seductive, hiding playfully behind the rim of her extravagant black velvet hat. When she walked, the long, white ostrich feather on top of her hat danced with each step. He found her movements intoxicating.

She wore the most luxurious mink stole he had ever seen, and when she removed it, she looked like a Grecian goddess. Her empire-waist dress flowed to the floor, the black velvet bodice cut low enough to make every man in the room stop and stare. The black fan she fluttered in front of her face made her even more exotic. Levi had attempted to approach her a few times throughout the evening, but she was always surrounded by admirers and he couldn’t get close enough to utter a single word. Out here on the patio, she was again with a gentleman.

Levi stepped to the edge of the patio and placed his fingers on the railing. She had her back against the railing, being courted by some wealthy boy in a man’s suit. Levi snickered. These rich boys don’t know how to seduce a woman, he thought. They think they can have anything they want, including a woman, simply because their fathers gave them money.

He remained still and looked out to the sea. The moon illuminated a path of white on the dark water. The reflection went all the way to the horizon. He absentmindedly reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his silver lighter. He flipped it open and closed over and over with one hand. He kept stealing glances to his left at the couple, wondering if he should interrupt them. The rich boy stumbled forward a little, almost falling onto the woman. He seemed to be more than a little drunk. Levi held his breath and waited for the woman to say something, hoping he’d be able to tell whether or not she needed him to intervene.

When she spoke, her voice had a deep rasp with the slightest Southern drawl. Why did that not surprise him? He felt a stirring in his loins and glanced again at the couple.

“Mr. Goodyear, I’m flattered by your attention, but don’t you think we should be going back inside now? Your friends are surely looking for you.”

The boy caught his balance, stood up straight, and countered, “No, they’re not looking for me. They’re having their own fun…just like we should.” The boy leaned in for a kiss, but the woman turned her face to the left and looked directly into Levi’s eyes. She smiled faintly.

It was not the plea of a woman needing assistance that he’d been expecting to see. The expression he saw on her face was one of confidence and power. This woman didn’t need his help. She was more than capable of fending off a drunken suitor. Levi watched her as she scowled and playfully pushed on the boy’s chest to back him away.

“Really, Mr. Goodyear, that’s enough for now.” She pushed harder on his chest.

The boy shrugged and mumbled something Levi couldn’t make out. The woman pulled her fur around her shoulders and narrowed her eyes at Levi, suggesting he should mind his own business. She turned the boy toward the open doorway, tucked her arm into the crook of his elbow, and led him toward the ballroom. As the two made their way to the door, a woman’s bloodcurdling scream came from the direction of the beach.

Levi and the couple turned toward the ocean, attempting to see the source of the screaming through the palm trees that lined the patio, but it was impossible. The screaming continued. People began streaming out of the ballroom, asking what was going on, and men sprinted down the stairs on both sides of the patio, hurrying toward the sound.

Levi turned and looked at the alluring woman, whose young suitor had left her standing alone while he joined the other men heading to the beach.

She stared into Levi’s eyes with no expression.

******************************************

Just for kicks, I think this is the woman Levi was watching, and I think she’s going to be trouble with a capital T.penny fisher

Lori Crane Books at Amazon

FREE FREE FREE AUDIOBOOK

Hi everyone!

Last month, I released my book Okatibbee Creek on audiobook at Audible, Amazon, and iTunes. It was narrated by the talented and fabulous Margaret Lepera. Audible has granted me a few FREE copies and I would like to give them away to you!

Please read the blurb below and and check out the sample at Audible – click HERE. If you find the story fits your taste, shoot me an email at LoriCraneAuthor@gmail.com and I’ll send you a FREE download code. I have ten to give away, so hurry up and be the one of the first ten to send me an email. I only ask that you rate it on Audible when you’re done listening. I only have one rating over there so far, and it looks pretty lonely. 😦

51QeOBe26zL._SL500_AA300_PIaudible,BottomRight,13,73_AA300_Blurb:

In the bloodiest years of our nation’s history, a young mother was left alone to endure the ravages of the Civil War and a typhoid epidemic that threatened the lives of everyone left behind.

Okatibbee Creek is based on the true story of Mary Ann Rodgers, who survived the collapse of the Confederate dollar, food shortages, and the deaths of countless family members to war and disease. As she searched for a way to feed her children and her orphaned nieces and nephews, Sherman’s Union army marched through Mississippi on their way to destroy Meridian, and Mary Ann found the distant war literally on her doorstep.

Help arrived just in the nick of time in the form of an unexpected champion, and Mary Ann emerged on the other side a heroic woman with an amazing story.

Okatibbee Creek is a tale of historical fiction that brings the Deep South vividly to life and will have you cheering and crying through a real-life story of loss, love, and survival.

UPDATE FEBRUARY 11: I still have one more copy if you’re interested. LoriCraneAuthor@gmail.com