The city of Rock Island, “is situated on the Illinois side of the Mississippi River, at the foot of the Upper Rapids, and just below the western extremity of Rock Island, from which it derives its name. The situation of the city is one of the most beautiful that can be imagined. The bluffs on the Iowa side approach the shore, so that the City of Davenport lies chiefly on the hillsides; on the Rock Island side the hills recede to a distance of more than a mile, leaving a broad and beautiful plain on which the city is built. This plain is sufficiently elevated to afford a dry and healthy location, and is bounded by the river in front, forming a graceful curve southward at the lower end of the city, and in the rear of the distant hills, which form a charming background to the city plat…From almost any point of observation in this city the views are fine” (1)
Historic Rock Island County
Story II:
“(N)obody down this way has seen any honey yet” (2)
Writing about trauma is both exhausting and nauseating.
On “January 21, 1891, in (east) Moline, Illinois” (3), my maternal second great grandfather, Jerome Wells, sold “his stock and household goods” (4). With his family, and dreaming of their “Beulah Land,” the Wells chose to leave what they knew and begin cultivating something new. Jerome headed west with his wife Anna Mary and their children, aboard rail car. They were bound for the bounties of Oregon and ended up relocating in the beautiful Columbia River Gorge, where, within the eastern hills of the Hood River Valley in a small community known as Pine Grove, they homesteaded. Jerome and Anna Mary’s family would remain there for generations and many of their descendent’s reside there to this day.
I can never know all of the factors that influenced my great, great grandparents to move their family to Oregon, yet sometimes we have to let go of what we do not know. We can search and appeal for answers, but there will remain pieces of the story that simply refuse to expose themselves. So, we gather all that we possibly can, we fact check again and again, and, in order to further the narrative of the lives of those who came before us, we look into the history of the times in which our ancestors’ lived. The ancestors will reveal themselves to us when they feel that we are ready to listen and to hear them. Trust me. They are not gone.
So, what I do know is that my ancestors chose to leave a more developed place and move somewhere they would have to start over by, quite literally, “build(ing) a road” (5) to their homestead high atop the eastern hills of the Hood River Valley. I also know that this was at a time when land was in increasingly short supply for the population of Moline was growing rapidly. “(T)he last three national censuses have overshadowed each other” (6). The family’s desire for land that could be passed down through the generations - a little room in which to roam about, unmolested, alone, within the bosom of mother nature - was no doubt a factor. In this endeavor their move was successful.
I also know that overpopulation combined with primitive sanitation and healthcare breeds disease. “In the early years of settlement, Illinois had ‘the reputation of being one of the most unhealthful portions of the United States’” (7). In the 1880s, when my family resided in Rock Island County, conditions would have improved somewhat from those earliest days, but a desire for cleaner air and water were no doubt an influencing factor in Jerome and Anna Mary’s decision to leave.
Further, I know that the decade preceding my family’s departure from Rock Island County came with its share of highs and lows. Jerome, Anna Mary and their little son, Perry, arrived in Rock Island County somewhere between 1880-1881. They came from Washington Township in Carroll County, Illinois where I know they were living in June of 1880 (8). This was located about 50 miles (as the crow flies) up the Mississippi River from Rock Island County. I do not know if Anna Mary was with child when she left Carroll County, but nonetheless, she and her husband welcomed a baby boy, Francis Warren, into their lives in September of 1881 (9). The years to follow would bring even more joy to the family as they saw the births of two daughters, Efflyn May in 1884 and Anna Margaret in 1887.
Then, in December of 1888 just a few weeks before Christmas, tragedy struck the family. They lost little Efflyn May. “Effie,” who was just over four-and-a-half years old at the time of her death, passed away from unknown causes and was buried in the Hampton Township Cemetery. I have, as of yet, been unable to locate a record of her death, however looking to the local newspapers in the months after her death we may find a reason for it. In February of 1889, the Review Dispatch reports, “about thirty cases of measles among children on the bluff” (10), and in April of 1889 the same paper records, “Dr. Plummer reported that Rock Island had been affected during the last quarter with most all of the contagious diseases, — chicken pox, measles, scarlatins (scarlet fever), mumps and diphtheria” (11). At the same time, for all we know, little Effie’s death could have resulted from some sort of tragic accident.
What I do know is that this was not the first time Jerome and Anna Mary’s hearts were broken by the the death of a child. Their first born, eight month old John Edward, died back in Carroll County, also from unknown causes. The loss of little “Effie” was, no doubt, a crushing blow to the soul of the family. All of these years later we can get a glimpse into the heartache of the family through the words and memories of one of Jerome and Anna Mary’s other children, Perry, who always told how he was devoted to his little sister. Perry was nine when Effie, his ‘best little buddy,’ died, and he was said to have been just lost without her. No doubt this was a serious trauma for the family and the memory of the event hung heavy on their hearts. Here, on this page, we honor Efflyn’s memory by uttering her name and calling upon her spirit and, with love and the simple act of remembrance, we are able to bring her back to us for a moment. No more goodbyes. Hello “Effie.”
Just a few months following the death of little Efflyn, the Wells family had another terrifying brush with death when they nearly lost their remaining three little children to the measles. On April 26, 1889 the Review Dispatch reports that, “(t)he three children of Mr. and Mrs. Jerome Wells have been quite ill with measles, but are somewhat better now” (12). Imagine the terror and fear in the household as those sick little children, all the couple had had left, lay ill. It was only by the grace of God, called down by the prayers of the family, and the help of a good doctor, that the little ones were saved. And then, in June of 1890, joy tempered the pain and heartache when Jerome and Anna Mary welcomed another child, a boy they named Charles Walter, to the family.
What else do I know? I know that Jerome was well known as a successful farmer, although his preference was to work with horses and cattle rather than tending orchard. For mention of his successes in Oregon, I turned to The Hood River Glacier newspapers of 1901 and 1903:
“Jerome Wells of the East Side brought to the Glacier office last Saturday a box of fancy Clark’s Seedling strawberries, and a sample of mammouth gooseberries that measured over an inch in diameter. Mr. Wells owns 160 acres on the divide between here and Mosier, and he has a soil capable of producing as good results as the irrigated lands of the valley. His strawberries grow readily without irrigation and coming at the end of the season they would command big prices in the market. A special feature of Mr. Wells’ land is that it will produce the finest kind of gooseberries and currants and no sign of worms is ever found in them. Mr. Wells does not irrigate, but timothy and garden truck grow to perfection, and this year he has a field of rye that stands seven or eight feet high” (13)
“Frank Chandler presented the Glacier with sample boxes of strawberries and gooseberries from his farm on the hill, recently purchased from Jerome Wells…(whose) apple orchard is bearing full, and his oats and potatoes are doing finely, all without irrigation” (14)
The “‘boss’ gardener,” (15) however, was said to be Anna Mary, whose successes must have also come “without irrigation.”
As I said earlier, writing about trauma is both exhausting and nauseating. It is additionally, at times, maddening. As I trudge along the trail of trauma, which leads me seamlessly back and forth between my own personal story and those of my grandfather, and his father, and his father, and his father, all the way back to our family’s 1778 tragedy, I often forget, (or refuse), to take a break. This is not a healthy approach. Sometimes, however, you get a little help from above (or around, or within - however you wish to describe it), and the spirits tap upon one’s shoulder and gently proclaim, “You’re doing a great job, but this is hard work. You need to take a break and get away from your heartache. To get out of your own head for a moment and breathe. Balance your flow. Lighten your heart. We are here to help.” Some would attribute this to a self-defensive chemical reaction in the brain that exists for the purpose of self-protection - to balance one’s flow. A mechanism of survival. They would be right too. The reason for describing this “spirit nudge” is that I have no explanation for my recent motivation to drop the difficult work that I was in the middle of one day when the name Jerome Wells and the state of Illinois entered my brain of their own accord. I immediately felt the pull and entered Jerome’s name into newspaper search engines online. The “spirit nudge” quickly lead me away from my pondering about insane asylums and madness into stories featuring laughter, and hence, a much needed smile.
What a treasure. I love it! I sit and smile as I ponder that, up to this point, all I had ever known of my great, great grandfather Jerome came from two rather stern looking photographs of him combined with a couple of published accounts detailing Wells family history that focused mostly on their time in the Hood River Valley. My great grandfather, Clifford Andrew, was seventeen years younger than his older brother Perry and his story (which is also mine) begins high atop the eastern hills of Pine Grove, on Rose Hill, where he was born in 1896. The extent of my knowledge about where Jerome and his family came from was that it was a place called Rock Island County in Illinois. I began to take a deeper look into this place. Into myself.
I first take note that the article about Jerome’s unfortunate “honey-gathering-adventure” was written under a column entitled “Watertown.”
One-hundred-fifty-four miles west, as the crow flies, of the city of Chicago, along The Chicago, Rock Island and Pacific Railroad and next to the mighty Mississippi River, is the city of Rock Island. Upriver and to the east of Rock Island three miles is the city of Moline. Another six miles east, just across the river from Campbell’s Island, is where the ghost of Watertown sits. Only by reviewing nineteenth century land records could I pinpoint the exact location of my family’s residence on a map. That fact is not really necessary, however, for the writing of this essay. Given that Jerome was a farmer and that, “Watertown’s…residents lived mostly off farming” (16), it would be fair to conclude that my Wells family most likely did not live “downtown” in the “city” blocks.
I turn to Dean Klinkenberg and learn more:
“In 1839, Henry McNeal, one of the first settlers of Hampton (Illinois), moved to a spot further southwest along the Mississippi and began farming. McNeal, along with Alonzo Nourse and Alfred Sanders, platted the village of Watertown in the 1850s and began an advertising campaign to attract industry and residents. Watertown had a stagecoach stop, then the railroad arrived in 1872 and gave the town an economic boost, becoming home for a number of railroad workers and miners. The town didn’t grow much more and thereafter Watertown’s 300 residents lived mostly off farming” (17)
Watertown’s surroundings are rich in historical flavor. A true portrait of our universal American history. Native people and war, railroads and settlers. Each and every place has its own intricate record of history, of achievements and setbacks. It would take another essay, or two, to even begin to tell the entire history of Rock Island County. Here, however, I wish to resurrect just some of the ghosts of Watertown’s past.
Indigenous Peoples
As I wrote in, I remember it well, “The briefest of ventures into the annals of American history quickly uncover entry upon entry in the violent and heartbreaking narrative of the Euro-white settlers relations with the land’s original occupants.” This history is no different for what would become Rock Island County and the surrounding area along the Mississippi.
“Native Americans of the area, particularly the Sauk and Mesquakie (Fox) Indians…lived here from about 1750 to 1831. At the nearby site of Saukenuk, an estimated 4,800 Sauk in 1826 comprised one of the largest Native American cities in North America and what may have been the largest city—Native American or European American—in Illinois. In the late 1820s, however, Anglo-Americans began developing settlements and gradually forced the tribes across the Mississippi River. In 1832, fifteen hundred Sauk and Mesquakie, led by the warrior Black Hawk, returned to plant crops, precipitating a fifteen-week conflict known as the Black Hawk War. Their defeat marked the passing of Native Americans from Illinois” (18)
In 1816 soldiers with the United States Army began construction of Fort Armstrong on Rock Island. “Ft. Armstrong, built on what is now Rock Island, served as both a trading post and military installation, attracting more white settlers and eventually leading to the fall of Black Hawk and migration west by the Sauk and Fox Indian nations” (19). The fort “was one of a chain of western frontier defenses which the United States erected after the War of 1812” (20). They would bring with them the first settler. “The first white settler…George Davenport…came to the Island of Rock Island in the spring of 1816 with Colonel William Lawrence and the Eighth Regiment of United States regulars at the time Fort Armstrong was built” (21).
Along the Rock River, about five miles from Fort Armstrong, sat the the Sauk village. It must have been impressive to see in person, as Thomas Forsyth, the Indian agent at Rock Island, expressed in 1824:
“Two miles up from the mouth of the Rock River was the ‘grand Sauk village where the principal chiefs, braves and warriors reside, … and where all the affairs pertaining to the Sauk Nation of Indians were transacted…Indeed, I have seen many Indian villages, but I never saw such a large one or such a populous one’” (22)
Here, at Saukenuk, is where the famous Sauk leader Black Hawk (Ma-ka-tai-me-she-kia-kiak) resided with his people before soldiers and settlers drove them away. I am thankful to be able to turn to the words of Black Hawk himself, who “was born at the Sac village, on Rock river, in the year 1767” (23), to describe the beauty of the lands on which the they lived before the territory was claimed by settlers:
“Our village was situated on the north side of Rock river, at the foot of the rapids, on the point of land between Rock river and the Mississippi. . .In front a prairie extended to the Mississippi, and in the rear a continued bluff gently ascended from the prairie” (24)
“On its highest peak our Watch Tower was situated, from which we had a fine view for many miles up and down Rock river, and in every direction. On the side of this bluff we had our corn fields, extending about two miles up parallel with the larger river, where they adjoined those of the Foxes, whose village was on the same stream, opposite the lower end of Rock Island, and three miles distant from ours. We had eight hundred acres in cultivation including what we had on the islands in Rock river. The land around our village, which remained unbroken, was covered with blue-grass which furnished excellent pasture for our horses. Several fine springs poured out of the bluff near by, from which we were well supplied with good water. The rapids of Rock river furnished us with an abundance of excellent fish, and the land being very fertile, never failed to produce good crops of corn, beans, pumpkins and squashes. We always had plenty…Here our village had stood for more than a hundred years” (25)
“Rock Island…was the best (island) on the Mississippi…(it) was our garden…which supplied us with strawberries, blackberries, gooseberries, plums, apples and nuts of different kinds. Being situated at the foot of the rapids its waters supplied us with the finest fish. In my early life I spent many happy days on this island. A good spirit had charge of it” (26)
Then everything changed for the Sauk.
“I touched the goose quill to the treaty not knowing, however, that, by the act I consented to give away my village. Had that been explained to me I should have opposed it and never would have signed their treaty” (27)
“My reason teaches me that land cannot be sold. The Great Spirit gave it to his children to live upon and cultivate as far as necessary for their subsistence, and so long as they occupy and cultivate it they have the right to the soil, but if they voluntarily leave it, then any other people have a right to settle on it. Nothing can be sold but such things as can be carried away” (28)
As Ronald Stockton reminds us: “[T]he consequences of American history are permanent. Each person who benefits from the country’s bounty and greatness shares in the events that lead to that greatness…when we are in a position of power or privilege we can never be innocent of whatever was done to create the circumstances from which we benefit” (29).
The American Civil War
“Rock Island has reason to be proud of her record during the Civil war. She filled her quota and her sons fought long and valiantly, many of them making the supreme sacrifice” (30). Rock Island, played an important role along the Mississippi during the American Civil War. It was there, at the order of the United States Secretary of War, that, in August of 1863, the U. S. Army began construction of Rock Island Prison to house Confederate soldiers taken prisoner on the battlefield. Although yet unfinished, the prison saw its first prisoners on December 3, 1863 because of “overcrowding at existing prison camps, exacerbated by a string of Union victories in the West” (31). The prisoners arrived aboard crowded rail cars during winter temperatures of below zero. That same winter, which was, “one of the worst on record at the time” (32), would see temperatures reported as low as thirty-two degrees below zero. From their initial number of “468 cold and undernourished Confederate soldiers from Tennessee,” (33) the prison population would grow to over five-thousand by the end of December. Disease and malnutrition ran rampant during this war, claiming more men than did combat loss. It was at its worst especially in the early months of the prison’s existence. In the end, Rock Island Prison would house over 12,000 Confederate soldiers.
“In September 1864,” during the prison’s final year of operation, “nearly 1,000 Colored Soldiers, members of the 108th Regiment of the United States Colored Troops, arrived at Rock Island Prison to guard Confederate prisoners…The 108th Regiment was made up of mostly former slaves from Kentucky. These soldiers played an important role in the outcome of the Civil War” (34). The U. S. C. T. would continue to guard the prisoners until closure of the prison in July of 1865, three months after war’s end, at which time, “(s)everal men and their families settled in (the) area” (35). Today, Rock Island is known as Arsenal Island and is where Rock Island Arsenal, “our country’s largest government operated arsenal” (36), is located. It had been established by an act of Congress in 1862. Union and Confederate soldiers rest together forever on the same land. As did Black Hawk before them, and albeit for different reasons, the Americans now also find this island to be hallowed ground.
When the train arrived with those first prisoners back on December 3, 1863, it was quite an emotional site, as witnessed by Mrs. Kate E. Perry-Mosher:
“It was on a dark, raw, gloomy day…when the first Confederate prisoners came. I promise you, it was a day fraught with intense excitement, never to be forgotten. The whole city was on the qui vive, with Davenport to help…It was known that the ‘prisoners’ train’ was to be run on the island to a certain point, switched off, and (the prisoners) disembarked and marched to the prison, a mile away. Hundreds of Rock Island and Davenport citizens stood waiting at the designated place. A strong, thick cable of ropes was run to keep the people back. The police of both cities were out in full force, with deputies sworn in” (37)
About eighteen years after those first prisoners arrived, my Wells ancestors came to live just seven miles, as the crow flies, upriver from Rock Island. At this time, the lore surrounding the famous Rock Island Prison had not been forgotten. As evidenced by Jerome and Anna Mary’s son, Perry, who, decades and decades later, spoke of memories of the remaining portion of the Civil War prisoner camp with one of his granddaughters, it must have been quite a story for the locals. The last physical remnant of the prison was demolished in 1909, but the land itself continues to bring people back, time and time again, to experience this portion of our history.
The Chicago, Rock Island & Pacific Railroad
The first thing that I think of when I hear the words “Rock Island” is the American folk song “Rock Island Line.”
“Chorus:
Leader: I said the Rock Island Line
Group: Is a mighty good road.
Leader: I said the Rock Island Line
Group: Is a road to ride.
Leader: I said the Rock Island Line
Group: Is a mighty good road,
All: If you want to ride, you got to ride it like you’re flyin’,
Buy your ticket at the station on the Rock Island Line” (38)
I had the the honor and pleasure to hear the song performed live by one of my favorite artists, Ramblin’ Jack Elliott, back in 2003. At least I think I did. I do know he talked about the song. (Those of you out there familiar with Ramblin’ Jack know exactly what I am talking about.) In his book, The Beautiful Music All Around Us, Stephen Wade speaks of the song’s earliest known origins:
“On December 3, 1929, at Little Rock’s Arch Street Missionary Church…an African-American vocal quartet opened the evening’s program. Known as the Rock Island Colored Booster Quartet, these singers—Clarence Wilson, Jake Mason, Walter Dennis, and Phil Garrett—worked at the nearby Biddle Shops, the central freight yard, repair works, and roundhouse for the Rock Island railroad’s Arkansas-Louisiana Division…(S)inger and engine wiper Clarence Wilson had written a song. Its title was ‘Buy Your Ticket over Rock Island Lines’ … ‘Rock Island Line,’ as this song came to be known … made its way across Arkansas,” and “beyond…Others took it up … (on September 29, 1934) (John A.) Lomax and Leadbelly (Huddie William Ledbetter) arrived at the state prison in Tucker, Arkansas…(P)erformers, none of whom were identified in Lomax’s notes, made the first recording” (39)
Now that I have been thinking about it I just can’t get the tune out of my head. Rock Island Line. Rock Island Line. Rock Island Line. It’s stuck! Things could be worse, that’s for sure.
The Chicago, Rock Island & Pacific Railroad came to fruition for the same reasons that those before it had. Settler domination and economic expansion. I turn to the poetic stylings of Colin McCarey who wrote:
“In 1847, steel tendrils were sprinting across the United States, overthrowing canals and eventually steamships as the primary conduits of American industry. The country was fighting the Mexican-American war, training ground for heroes and villains later to be immortalized in the Civil War. The romanticized outlaw Jesse James was born in Clay County, Missouri, and the Chicago & Rock Island Railroad Company was chartered in Illinois…A quarter of a century later, the renamed Chicago, Rock Island & Pacific Railroad was introducing the first elegant dining cars to passenger trains and was victim to the first train robbery by the ex-Confederate Jesse James. By 1889, Jesse was in his grave, and the iconic Rock Island Line reached Colorado Springs” (40)
The people at American-Rails continue our tale:
“The company’s history began like that of so many others in the Midwest, launched in the mid-19th century to help a small town reach its potential. According to Bill Marvel’s wonderful title, ‘Rock Island Line,’ a group of businessmen spent an evening in June of 1845 planning a railroad of 75 miles to link Rock Island, Illinois (across the Mississippi River from Davenport, Iowa) with LaSalle. What was known as the Rock Island & La Salle Rail Road Company, officially incorporated on February 27, 1847, would work in conjunction with canal and riverboat operators to move freight and passengers into Chicago” (41)
The railroad’s construction did not begin immediately, however, for at first funding fell short. Eventually, enough stocks were sold and other money raised to secure the necessary funding, thus allowing construction on the new line to officially commence. On February 22, 1854 the line finally connected Rock Island to Chicago.
Samuel Van Sant, who was the former governor of Minnesota and also an early resident of Rock Island, memorialized the day in his own words:
“I remember a great event in the history of Rock Island…was the arrival of the first Chicago and Rock Island train, there was great rejoicing, bonfires, banquets, bands and speeches. It was the first railroad to reach the river. A great boom resulted, real estate advanced and Rock Island took on a new lease of life” (42)
More railroad history would be made in Rock Island just over two years later:
“On April 22, 1856, the citizens of Rock Island, Illinois, and Davenport, Iowa, cheered as they watched three steam locomotives pull eight passenger cars safely across the newly completed Chicago and Rock Island railroad bridge over the Mississippi River. The first railroad bridge across the Mississippi was open for business. Now the people of eastern Iowa could reach New York City by rail in no more than forty-two hours” (43)
Samuel Van Sant also recalled some of the early history of the first bridge back in 1930:
“Rock Island could not remain long the terminal of the railroad. Our country was too progressive so a railroad bridge spanning the Mississippi was built, it was improperly located and was a great menace to navigation. Many steamers were wrecked and others more or less damaged. There was at that time great rivalry between Chicago and St. Louis, Chicago favoring and St Louis opposing the bridge and demanding its removal. The battle waged fiercely.” Just a few weeks after the completion of the bridge, “the Effie Afton, after passing up through the bridge…became unmanageable and drifted against the structure, taking fire. She was a total loss, destroying at least one span of the (wooden) bridge…The matter finally reached the courts for decision. Those opposing the bridge still contending that people had a right to pass up and down a river without obstruction to its navigation. Abraham Lincoln was attorney favoring the bridge…He claimed that people had as much right to cross a river when they came to it as others had to go up or down it. Lincoln won. A new bridge, properly located, was built” (44)
“Rock Island’s economy prospered after 1856 when the Chicago and Rock Island Railroad built the first railroad bridge across the Mississippi. The railway brought industry to Rock Island: lumbering, pottery, and the manufacture of farm implements and railroad supplies, among others” (45)
All that the railroad brought to Rock Island County was part of what eventually influenced my ancestors to migrate to that place and then, eventually, to leave it. I close my eyes and see my ancestors standing at their local depot in Moline.
Rock Island County and the Wells Families
“The earliest pioneers settled (in Rock Island) as early as 1827-1828,” among them was, “Rinnah Wells (and) the Wells of Hampton…These were hardy pioneers…(P)rior to the Black Hawk war…(t)hey organized a military company…known as the Rock River Rangers…and were mustered into service a year prior to the Black Hawk war” (46)
It is intriguing to me that there were so many Wells living in Rock Island County during the nineteenth century. After tracing my Wells line, along with the line of the family of Rinnah and Lucius Wells, back to the eighteenth century I find no connection between the two. Maybe I missed something, who knows. I like to be proven incorrect. It makes me a better researcher and a better person, having learned something new from someone else. It might be that our families do connect somewhere way back in seventeenth century England, but that is not a maze I wish to fall into today.
The settlement of the other Wells family in the area stretched from the Rock River, east, into Moline, Hampton and beyond. They were a large, extended family and lived in Rock Island County for generations. They likely have descendants residing there to this day. Lucius Wells “was a soldier in the Black Hawk and Indian and frontier wars…a prominent and public-spirited man in the county…In 1839 he was elected sheriff…In 1857, when township organization was adopted, he was the first supervisor from Hampton. He was (also) a justice of the peace, and was often called to public duties of various kinds” (47).
Wells family genealogy is often times quite complicated, especially when one is finding more “wells” than “Wells”. At Hampton Township Cemetery one notes a great number of Wells’ interred, yet none of them have any relation to our little “Effie” Wells, who rests alongside them. There was a Wells School and a Wells Street and a “group of mineral springs known as the ‘Rinnah Wells’ springs…known from Indian days to have medicinal properties” (48). Related or not, the families no doubt knew of each other, and the shared last name must have been quite a conversation starter, to say the least.
I continue reading historic newspapers from the era and am offered a lovely little glimpse into their community.
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Thank you to “Uncle Bill.” A true social media poster of his time. “During his residence in East Moline he was Watertown correspondent for the Dispatch, writing under the name of Uncle Bill” (49) and “operated a general store in East Moline from 1870-1890” (50) which was, no doubt, a central hub of town gossip. Having also served as school director at Watertown, William Elliott Crawford, “Uncle Bill,” a resident of Rock Island County since about 1855, was a fixture in the community.
(L-R) Uncle Bill Crawford, School Director at Watertown, age 91; Andy MacDonald, school teacher at Watertown, age 83, taught in 1880; Drury A. Babcock, pupil of Andy MacDonald at that time. Photo taken May 1940.
My great grandfather's adventures in the community continued to provide "Uncle Bill" with well-needed gossip.
Sorry about your traumas great grandpa, but thank you for allowing us all a good laugh at your expense. We are all healthier for it. Thank you. I enjoyed hanging out with you for a few weeks while you introduced yourself and told me your story. Thank you for reminding me that you and your family experienced trauma along with the humorous tales that allow us the space, the breath, to keep moving forward. And by the way…what did you do with the honey?
Writing about trauma is both exhausting and nauseating. It can also be rewarding.
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