Miss Thomas

Virginia Thomas Funkhouser

by David Parmer and Philip Thomas

After I completed my trying third grade experience at Burnsville Grade School in 1951, I thought that the rest of elementary school would be a piece of cake. Miss Georgia Haymond, my venerable third grade teacher, would brook no nonsense or senseless chatter from the roomful of testy students, and had a thick maple paddle to back up her short stature. I came to know the business-end of that well-worn paddle on quite a few occasions, as did most of the boys in her class, and a few of the girls as well.

Needless to say, I was glad to move on to the fourth grade.

I was hoping to be able to sit in the same fourth grade chair that Sue Knight, a cute blonde haired girl on whom I had a secret crush, had sat in. The only problem was- I didn’t know what chair she had sat in. But, being only a fourth grader, a school-boy crush only lasted until the next cute girl passed by. So, in the fall of 1951, I moved on to the fourth grade, only one year to go before I could enter the fifth grade and move to the second floor of the Burnsville school building. What an accomplishment that would be! But first, I had the fourth grade to contend with.

Left: the author David Parmer

Right: Virginia (Thomas) Funkhouser

An Astonishing Sight

She stood military erect beside the teacher’s desk at the front of the room, quietly observing the hordes of bare-footed boys and an equal number of girls who were trying their best to ignore the “smelly” boys. Her hair was coal-black, her lips a bright red, and a lighter shade of red adorned her high cheek bones, a contrast to her olive toned complexion. She wore a dress of a type I had never seen before which must have come from New York or some far-off place. Made of a black silky material, the dress displayed colorful swirls of flowers, almost hypnotic to a fourth grade boy. A wide red leather belt matched her bright red high-heeled shoes. Truly, this fourth grader had never seen a truly chic person, which was of course a word I had never heard of before. The other students appeared to be equally mesmerized by the colorful apparition standing beside the desk in the front of the room. This was my memorable introduction to Miss Thomas, my fourth grade teacher.

The fourth grade room at Burnsville Grade School was a large room, filled with stationary desks, securely fastened to the floor. A large gas burning stove stood in the middle of the room, entirely adequate to heat the room beyond need during the months of winter. Approximately 42 desks surrounded the stove and most all of the desks were filled with urchins, still rambunctious from summer vacation. It took all of about sixty seconds for this wild bunch to be broken, tamed, and put securely in their place, never again to act the rogue, or to test the patience of Miss Thomas. Only once did this writer test her resolve to be the absolute ruler of her domain. A math test containing fifty division problems involving dollars and cents was distributed during the first weeks of class. Since I was a fair math student, I finished the assignment quickly and with the utmost confidence that I had gotten all fifty of the questions correctly answered. I strode to the teacher’s desk, the first to finish the test, and handed it to the unblinking, unimpressed and stoic Miss Thomas. Smugness, you might say, quickly changed to doom when Miss Thomas just as confidently strode to my desk and handed me my test, marked with a big red “O.” No, that was not for “Outstanding” but rather because out of fifty questions, I had gotten zero correct. Her admonition was that if I were dividing dollars and cents, the quotient must include a dollar sign, and, in forgetting this important detail, all of my answers were incorrect. I quickly learned that when Miss Thomas acted, there was to be no reaction other than to express remorse in a silent, non-demonstrative way. I forget just exactly what my ill-timed response was, but I do remember that it was followed by a quick trip to the cloak room and a painful introduction to the fourth grade paddle. After school that day, I sullenly made my way home, thinking about the story I was going to tell my mother about my unjust punishment. After relating to her my tale of woe, much to my surprise, I received another paddling because I had received a paddling at school. Thus, I learned the moral of the story. If you get a paddling at school, don’t say a thing about it at home, because there is always more of that where that came from.

The Rest of the School Year

It’s always good to learn an early lesson, and even better not to repeat the same mistake twice. The expression, “once burned, twice shy” is probably apropos and the remainder of my fourth grade year was uneventful, at least in the sense that I encountered no further tragedies of discipline. I remained enamored of her coal black hair, red lips and red rouged cheeks, and particularly of her dazzling dresses. At the end of that school year, Miss Thomas left Burnsville to teach in northern Virginia. I am sure that when school opened the next school year, the students at her Virginia school were as dazzled as I had been the year before.

A Sequel

A couple of years ago, I called Miss Thomas (now Mrs. Funkhouser) about a story I had been researching about the Henline family of Orlando. She was very pleasant. Her memory was vivid and her recollection of me as her student was very surprising, particularly since her memory of my scholarship was flattering. She never mentioned the math test, or its tragic aftermath. I never raised the subject either. The conversation ended with me having a renewed sense of my worth, particularly since Miss Thomas said it.

Right: Marshal and Virginia (Thomas) Funkhouser at their home in Florida.

Sadly, I was informed a few days ago that Virginia (Thomas) Funkhouser had passed away. Not only had she

been my favorite fourth grade teacher, but she was also my wife’s cousin, so my fealty is owed. Often this writer writes “tongue-in-cheek” and actually as my fourth grade experience evolved from a rocky beginning as the school year ended I was sorry that she would not be my teacher when I climbed the long stairs to the fifth grade classroom to be the student of another icon of Burnsville school history – Mr. Harry Wiant.

A Tribute to Miss Thomas

Philip Thomas, a nephew of Miss Thomas and a former Orlando student who moved to Belington to finish school, forwarded the following biographical tribute to Virginia Thomas Funkhouser which was distributed at her funeral in Alexandria, Virginia.

VIRGINIA KATRINE THOMAS FUNKHOUSER

Virginia Funkhouser was born Virginia Katrine Thomas on March 17, 1917 in Orlando, Braxton County, West Virginia, daughter of Mike and Estelle (Henline) Thomas. Virginia was the youngest of 8 siblings: Harry Gofrey, Sofia Jarvis, Tom

Thomas, Bill Thomas, Owen Thomas, Marie Thomas, and Arden Thomas (all deceased). She had 20 nieces and nephews.

Left: Mike Thomas

Right: Estie Thomas, Margaret Nixon (sisters) and Marie Thomas, Virginia (Thomas) Funkhouser and Sophia Jarvis (daughters of Estie Thomas

Virginia’s father, Mike Thomas, emigrated to the United States from Turkey in 1904. He and his brothers settled in the bus

tling railroad town of Orlando, West Virginia where Mike started out as a pack peddler and later worked in a restaurant. In 1905 he married Estelle Henline, a widow with 2 children. Together they had 6 more children, of which Virginia was the youngest. As a young child, she was known as Kate, short for her middle name, Katrine. During their time in Orlando, her mother was introduced to and joined the Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. The family later moved to Alton, Upshur County, West Virginia, where Mike opened a pool hall. Mike Thomas died at age 52 in 1925 when Virginia was only 7 years old. During her childhood years, Virginia and her brother, Arden, operated a paper route together. She also had her own AVON route by age 11. The Thomas family moved again to Copen, Braxton County, West Virginia. In her early school years, she walked 4 miles each way along a railroad track from Copen to her school and back. From the first day she went to school and set foot in a classroom, she knew immediately that she wanted to become a school teacher. So at an early age, she set her sights on getting a formal education in order to reach that goal. She graduated from Burnsville High School. Her brothers spent many years working for the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad. At age 16, Virginia was given some fabric by her uncle Lewis Thomas and sewed dresses for herself and for her sister, Marie, both made without a printed pattern.

Since her family was unable to meet college expenses, Virginia found a way to borrow $100 to start her freshman year at Glenville State College in nearby Glenville, WV. She earned enough education credits in her first year to receive an interim teaching certificate. In 1941, she used that certificate to land her first teaching job at Squires School, a one room schoolhouse in Gem, WV where she taught 16 students at multiple grade levels. She taught during the school year and studied at college over several summers to complete her Bachelor of Science degree at Glenville State College, Glenville, WV in 1946. While at college, she also waited tables at a boarding house in exchange for meals. After teaching one year at Squires School, 1941-42, she went on to 2 years at Hutchinson School in Gem, WV (1942-43-44), then 7 years at Burnsville, WV Graded School from 1944 to 1951.

In Copen, she used a horse to carry children across a creek to get to school. She talked to local officials about the need for a bridge across that creek, and was so convincing that crews were there the very next day making plans for the bridge. A bridge soon was built to accommodate both children and adults.

She met her future husband, Marshall Funkhouser, from south central Virginia. They were secretly married on December 28, 1950 at the home of Marshall’s aunt Seville in Fairfax County, VA without her mother’s knowledge. At first, her mother didn’t care for Mr. Funkhouser; however, that changed as he frequently took her out for ice cream and on other errands. Together, Mr. and Mrs. Funkhouser owned several horses which were stabled and groomed as racing horses near the Charles Town, West Virginia Race Track. Virginia went back to her hometown of Orlando, WV where she was baptized and became a member of the Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Shortly thereafter, following a professor’s recommendation, she and Marshall moved in 1951 to northern Virginia and resided in southern Fairfax County, VA. They later moved to Alexandria, where in September 1951 she started her 31 year career as an educator with the City of Alexandria school system while her husband continued his career with the Virginia Electric Power Company. They were each other’s constant companions in over 45 years of marriage beforeMr. Funkh ouser passed away in 1996 in Naples, Florida at their second home where they enjoyed the area and spending time with friends.

She was an avid walker, and upon her retirement, she enjoyed walking in her Alexandria neighborhood every day as the weather and her health would allow. She was well known in her neighborhood by those walks and by chatting with passersby as she tended to her property. She loved to garden, and was known to grow some of the best tomatoes and green peppers on Russell Road in Alexandria.

From 1951, Mrs. Funkhouser was an active member of the Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, now known as the Community of Christ. She was a member of this church in Washington, DC and instrumental in founding a new mission and congregation in Springfield, VA. She wanted the best for the children, and saw to it through her benevolent financing that new carpeting and curtains were installed in all the children’s church school classrooms, and that a wonderful playground was provided for the children to have a safe and fun place to play. She was a strong supporter of a children’s Peace Pavilion, initiated by her church denomination at its International Headquarters in Independence, Missouri.

Virginia was a leader and promoter of a nationwide children’s reading program called Reading Is Fundamental (RIF), for many years headed up by Lynda Johnson Robb, who frequently visited schools in the Alexandria school system. In 1991, Mrs. Funkhouser was awarded the Distinguished National Service Award by the RIF Foundation. In 1981, as principal of the James K. Polk Elementary School, she played a part in the production of a National RIF movie. She served as co-President of RIF for Northern Virginia in 1986-87, and remained active as the chairperson for the Alexandria area RIF program for many more years. Virginia even traveled to the White House to represent the interests of that group/foundation before the President of the United States. The nonprofit RIF program helps more than 13 million children across the nation to read with the assistance of more than 120,000 volunteers. Mrs. Funkhouser was passionate in her desire that all children learn to read. It was her gift to them, one that remains with each person throughout his/her life.

Mrs. Funkhouser always stressed the value of getting a good education. Through the years she became quite fond of her church-sponsored college, Graceland University, located in Lamoni, Iowa, between Kansas City and Des Moines. She and Marshall generously supported Graceland, to the point of establishing a scholarship fund in both her and Marshall’s name, a scholarship which continues even today.

Mrs. Funkhouser’s career as an educator in the City of Alexandria began in 1951 as elementary teacher at Mt. Vernon Elementary School, under the leadership of Principal Beatrice Franklin, a pillar among her elementary school peers. Knowing the value of an advanced degree, while teaching during the school year, she used her summers to complete a Master’s Degree at the George Peabody College for Teachers at Vanderbilt University in Nashville, Tennessee in 1955. After four years at Mt. Vernon as a teacher, upon receiving her Master’s, she was promoted to Assistant Principal. The superintendent of the Alexandria Schools, Mr. T.C. Williams, soon recognized Mrs. Funkhouser’s talents and skills, and made the most of her expertise by shifting her to other schools where a strong, energetic leader was needed.

In 1956, Mrs. Funkhouser became Assistant Principal at MacArthur Elementary School. She moved to Minnie Howard Elementary School as Assistant Principal in 1957-58. She then transferred to Prince Street Elementary School as Principal (1958-Feb 60). From Feb. 1960 to 1967, she was Principal at Robert E. Lee Elementary School on Washington Street, near the Woodrow Wilson Bridge. From there, she went to Charles Barrett Elementary School as Principal for 6 years (1968-1973). And in 1973, she transferred to James K. Polk Elementary School where she was Principal for 9 years from 1973 to 1982. Several of her teachers from the earlier schools transferred to Polk to continue their professional association with Virginia. Each time she moved to a new school, it was at the request of Mr. T.C. Williams because he had such faith and trust in Virginia’s leadership and management skills to get the best results, from both teachers and students. She was noted for being able to “straighten out” some of the problems being experienced at schools around the Alexandria school system. While she was principal she led the school through the period of desegregating schools and bussing. She was always known as a dedicated, hard worker, revered by her staff. She would regularly get to school quite early, and stay late most days. She established an excellent reputation by demonstrating her leadership in elementary education, both in teaching and in principal positions at several schools in Alexandria. She was a hard taskmaster, but she inspired teachers and students alike, gaining recognition as a superior educator for the Alexandria community.

Mrs. Funkhouser was invited to join Delta Kappa Gamma, an international professional honor society of women educators with over 150,000 members that promotes professional and personal growth of its members and excellence in education. She enjoyed participating in, and supporting, its several functions for many years.

She was truly admired by all who knew her. Well after her retirement from Polk Elementary School and the Alexandria school system in 1982 she continued to be in the forefront of organizations promoting excellence in education, and maintained her contact and close friendships with many of her teachers, secretaries, other principals, and even superintendents in the school system. She often invited her friends to visit at her home where she enjoyed preparing lunch for them. Perhaps her most favorite dish was crab cakes, for which she was always a popular cook. She was also known for being a “sharp” dresser. For many years after retiring, she maintained her membership in and attended the meetings of the Alexandria Retired Teachers Association.

Virginia was such a lover of good books. She especially enjoyed good children’s books, and she considered herself quite privileged to be a close personal friend to Cheryl Barnes, another Alexandria resident who is an accomplished author of children’s books, many of which are in Virginia’s home library. Virginia thoroughly enjoyed Cheryl’s books and would often give them as gifts to young children who were very special to her.

Virginia was an avid Washington Redskins Football Team fan, and together with Marshall, for many years they would attend all of the Redskins home games. They took pride in having a pair of those “hard to come by” Season Tickets, which offered an excellent view of the field at the 45 yard line on the home team’s side. They’ve held that pair of tickets for over 50 years! She even became good friends with Joe Theismann, the once-star quarterback for the Redskins, who accepted her invitation to come visit her and her students at Polk Elementary School on more than one occasion. She always cherished the “number 7” autographed jersey which Joe personally gave to her, proudly displaying it on the wall of the family room in her Alexandria home.

Her leadership and support of education gained her many friendships with persons in leadership positions at the city, state, and national levels. Often she received invitations to attend special banquets in both Washington, DC and northern Virginia. For many years she received Christmas cards and letters from U.S. Senators as well as the President of the United States.

Though she claimed to be shy, others would recount that she was never bashful, never hesitating to make her views well known. There was no doubt where she stood on just about any issue that you might want to discuss with her. She had a keen sense of humor. Professionally and personally, she was an inspiration to all. She will long be remembered as a highly respected leader in the Alexandria school system.

Mrs. Funkhouser left a legacy of high principles, and stressed the need for studying hard and doing well in school in order to succeed in life. She was admired, respected, and loved by so many people whose lives she touched along her own pathway of life. Many people have had success and been enriched in their own lives by being touched somewhere along the way by Virginia Funkhouser.

A Granddaughter Remembers Orlando Visits

by Ruby Jarvis Brooks

My memories of Orlando go way back- I am now 84 years old. My parents lived outside of a small town called Belington, WV. Every summer, my Dad would take me, along with my mother, my sisters Rose and Martha, and later my little brother Franklin, down the road to the town of Norton and put us on the train to Orlando. There we would spend 2 or 3 days visiting our family, then we would get on the train again to go to Copen, where my Grandmother Estie (Henline) Godfrey Thomas lived, to stay the rest of the week.

Left: the author Ruby with younger siblings Franklin, Martha and Rose
Right: Map of West Virginia showing the towns mentioned in this entry.

In Orlando, we would stay with Aunt Clorie, and her brother Uncle Heater Huck [Ernest Roy Henline] and my mother's cousin, Opal (Jeffries) McCrobie. When we would arrive, Uncle Heater always had bubble gum waiting for us- those big gumballs! He would put Aunt Clorie in charge of the gum to hand it out to us as she saw fit.

1. Great Aunt Vada with her daughters (Ruby's cousins) Annabelle and Mary, Opal with cousin June Nixon. 2. Cousin Owen Thomas holding Franklin. 3. Heaterhuck Henline, 4. Cousin Coleman Jeffries with cousins June and Billy Nixon.

We would also visit Uncle Polar [Verdis Carder Henline] and Aunt Vadie, [Vada Belle Riffle] who lived up a steep hill that started up by Uncle Heater's and Aunt Clora's lawn- and I do mean straight up! We liked playing with Uncle Polar's daughters, Mary and Anna Belle. Uncle Polar was a tall man, and when I was very small I was afraid of him because I thought he was a giant!

Right: Ruby's mother Sophia (Godfrey) Jarvis.
Left: Ruby's parents Jesse and Sophia (Godfrey) Jarvis.
Right below: Aunt Clorie (Clora Henline) with Ruby and Rose.

My mother was Sophia (Godfrey) Jarvis, the oldest daughter of Estie (Henline) Godfrey Thomas by her first and late husband, Malitas Godfrey. Mom only had one whole brother, Harry, who then lived in Clarksburg. All the other siblings, the Thomases, were her half brothers and sisters. Their father was Estie's second husband, Mike Thomas. My mother's father had died from typhoid fever when she was just a toddler.

My father was Jesse Jarvis. He met my mother when she was working at Dick Skinner's restaurant and he came in as a customer while traveling for his job with the mines. They were married in 1925. I am the oldest of their children, born in 1926, followed by Rose in 1928, Martha in 1932 and Franklin in 1934. I am now a widow and I live in Woodbridge, VA. Rose passed away in 2004. Martha lives in New Bern, NC. Franklin lives with his wife Norma on the family home place near Belington, and still farms.

After all these years, my memories of Orlando are still very vivid. My visits there were very happy times. Uncle Heater, Aunt Clora, and her children Opal and Coleman still lived in the house in Orlando. Sometimes Aunt Margaret (Henline) Nixon would come to visit when we were there and that was always fun! We liked playing with her kids, June and Billy. At night, the sleeping quarters were scarce when everyone came to visit. They would make palats on the floor for us kids, and that was fun.

One of the biggest parts of life and times in Orlando was of course the trains! Several of our family members worked for the railroad, including Heater Huck. The train whistles, the sound of the train chugging on the track, and how they'd wave at us when it passed by are other fond memories. After the train was gone, it left a special kind of dust on the bushes and trees near the tracks. I can still see it and smell it to this day.

Left: The Henline home with Oil Creek at the front.
Right: Great grandmother Samantha (Skinner) Henline

I remember visiting at the house in Orlando when my great grandmother Samantha (Skinner) Henline was still living. I recall her as being quite old and ill and she spent a lot of time in bed. Someone would put me up on her bed, and I would pretend to feed her. She was such a sweet lady, she pretended to eat my imaginary food. I remember going to her funeral. I was four years old when she passed away in 1930. In those days, there was no road up to the cemetary on the hill, so we all had to walk as they carried the casket all the way to the top of that steep hill. I was so little, all I could see were the legs of the adults, and my little legs were getting so tired. Then one of the uncles came along and scooped me up and put me up on his shoulders, and carried me the rest of the way. There is now a good road that goes up there.

Denver Owen Henline X 2

by David Parmer

Many years ago, the comedian Bill Saluga appeared as a guest on Johnny Carson’s “Tonight Show.” His hilarious stand-up comic routine concerned a man whose name was “Raymond J. Johnson, Jr.” and involved the numerous variations of the name that were available for use in identifying the man.
“Ahh, ya doesn’t has to call me Johnson! You can call me Ray, or you can call me Jay, or you can call me Johnny or you can call me Sonny, or you can call me RayJay, or you can call me RJ…but ya doesn’t hafta call me Johnson.”

Right: First cousins Denver Owen Henline. In the Navy uniform is the son of Coy Clarence "Frank" and Audrey (Reip) Henline and in the Army uniform is the son of Ezra Andrew "Pid" and Minnie (Riffle) Henline.

A Case of Double Identity

Samantha Henline, the matriarch of Orlando’s Henline clan who was born in 1853, was up in years by the 1920’s and her mind wasn’t what it used to be. As one becomes older, undoubtedly there are times when person’s name is on the tip of our tongue, but the connection just can’t be made. It becomes quite frustrating when a name doesn’t come immediately to our memory, or, in the case of the elderly Samantha Henline, just how was it possible that she had two similarly aged grandsons who are both named “Denver Owen Henline.” An elderly mind is easily confused enough without another quirky mind binder, and it is a sure bet that when Samantha’s son Frank told his mother in March 1925 that he named his new-born son “Denver Owen Henline,” she somehow seemed confusingly familiar with that same name.

Indeed, just three years previously, Samantha’s son “Pid” named his first son “Denver Owen Henline.” The writer asked Burlen Henline, son of “Frank” Henline and brother of the “other” Denver Owen Henline, how it came to be that his father named his brother the very same uncommon name as his first cousin had been named. Burlen was at a loss for an explanation. There was no popular Methodist circuit –riding preacher named “Denver Owen,” nor any current movie star or country singer, or president by that name which could have inspired this case of double identity, and to Burlen it is still just a big mystery. The folks at the Henline homestead in Orlando referred to Pid’s son as “Denver” and Frank’s son as “Owen” in order not to confuse the two cousins. There is no report on how the two boys may have introduced themselves to the other.

Ahh, ya doesn’t has to call me Henline! You can call me Denver Owen, or you can call me Owen, or you can call me Denver, or you can call me D. Owen, or you can call me D. O....But ya doesn’t hafta to call me Henline.

Be that as it may, this is about as good a lead-in to a little story about the two Denver Owen Henlines that the writer can dream up. Briefly, here are some differences between the two Denver Owens.
~ Pid and Minnie Henline’s son Denver Owen, b. 1922, grew up in Orlando, was nicknamed “Red”, and served in World War II in North Africa and Italy. He married Gladys Hitt and worked in coal mining and glass production.
~ Frank and Audrey ‘s son Denver Owen, b. 1925, grew up in the Clarksburg area. He served in the Pacific in World War II. He married Doris Williams and worked in the steel industry.

Denver Owen Henline-

Son of “Pid” and Minnie (Riffle) Henline

“Pid” Henline’s true name, according to the handwritten inscription in his mother’s Bible, was Ersie A. Henline. He was the fifth child of Beham Henline and Samantha (Skinner) Henline. With regard to the spelling of “Pid’s” name, it should be noted that his tombstone in the Orlando Cemetery declares his first name to be “Erza.” Born in 1885, “Pid” was followed in birth by his younger brother by three years, Coy Clarence, who was known to his siblings and friends as “Frank.”

Left: Ezra "Pid" and Minnie Henline with Ruth, Earnest Andrew "Bud" and Jessie. Center: Minnie with Denver Owen, Right: Edward, Jessie, Ruth and Denver Owen.

In 1914, “Pid” married Minnie Riffle, daughter of Stewart L. and Abigail (Blake) Riffle. Their second son was born in 1922 and was named “Denver Owen.” According to his granddaughter, Selena Barton, the “Owen” part of her grandfather’s name was derived from the name of Owen Thomas who was a first cousin. The derivation of the name “Denver” was unknown to her. Also according to Selena, her family was unaware that another first cousin, the son of Frank Henline, who would be born three years later, would also be named “Denver Owen.” Since the Frank Henline family lived in Clarksburg and only infrequently visited Orlando, they also were unaware that Frank’s brother Pid had a son named “Denver Owen.”

Does Red Hair Make a Mischievous Child?

An outstanding physical feature of Denver was his fiery red hair, and, as was custom in Orlando, everyone seemed to have a nickname. It was a given therefore to call a red-headed boy simply as “Red.” And so it was with Denver Owen Henline, son of Pid and Minnie (Riffle) Henline, who would go through life known as “Red,” rather than Denver, or Owen, or Denver Owen.

Speaking from personal experience, red-headed boys are frequently suspected of mischievous behavior by their school teachers. Just as red capes incite a bull in a ring, so too does red hair excite the suspicions of harried school teachers when their backs are turned. Perhaps there was a kernel of truth of the connection between hair coloration and mischievous behavior in the case of “Red” Henline. According to Stanley Barton, his son-in-law, many tales of school-related pranks were told by “Red” to his children as they were growing up.

Teacher on a Sled

Stanley Barton recalls an amusing story his father-in-law told about one of his female teachers, believed to be Beth Curry, at the Three Lick School. It seems that during recess one winter day the boys of the school were engaged in sled riding when icy conditions made sled riding a bit hazardous for one’s safety. The boys, including “Red,” made the observation that if one were not careful, the ice on the hill could propel the sled so fast that it would run all the way to Three Lick Creek. Naturally devious minds think up devilish pranks to pull on unsuspecting teachers. “Red” was delegated to convince their teacher that she would enjoy the fun of a slide down the hill. Reluctantly, Miss Curry agreed to appease the boys and assumed the prone position on the sled. With more than adequate vigor, the boys gave her a hearty shove, and off Miss Curry went toward Three Lick. Of course there are no brakes on a sled and an inexperienced rider would not know to apply the “shoe-dragging” technique of stopping a fast moving sled. With a “whoop and a holler,” Miss Curry and the sled disappeared over the creek bank of Three Lick. The boys quickly scurried down the hill to see if their teacher survived the “ride of her life.” Stanley did not know what sort of punishment his father-in-law may have received as the result of the perilous prank. Presumably, his color of his rear-end matched the cardinal of his hair when he went home that day after school.

Right: Denver Owen in boots in the front. Elmer Pumphrey behind him in the middle, sister Ruth Ellen is beside him in front.

Paddling of a Teacher

As we get older, tales of our youth become bolder. Of course facts often gets in the way of a good story, and the “good” story always seems to win out. Since the following tale makes for an interesting story, veracity-notwithstanding, it is here re-told. Again, according to Stanley Barton, “Red” related a school-boy tale of the teacher who got a paddling. The teacher in this episode most assuredly was Lynn Riffle who taught at Three Lick School from 1931 to 1937. It seems that the Three Lick School boys had been particularly nettlesome on a certain school day and a number of them had earned a few strokes of the old hickory paddle. With his back turned to a gaggle of boys at his rear and the old hickory paddle laying in easy reach on the teacher’s desk, some emboldened red-headed boy, deftly picked up the paddle and administered a decisive whack to the teacher’s rear-end, and quickly returned the paddle to its original position. There is no word on whether the culprit was apprehended or the nature of the retribution exacted. At any rate, after six years of Three Lick schooling, “Red” achieved the pinnacle of his educational history, and left his empty seat to some younger scholar.

Ghosts and Coon Hunting

Every respectable Orlando boy during the 1930’s knew a thing or two about coon-hunting and “Red” was no exception. “Red” and his friend, Elmer Pumphrey, frequently marched through the hills of the “Free State” on the trail of the wily coon. On one coon hunt, “Red” and Elmer were joined by Elmer’s brother Harley. The boys were chasing the raccoon in the neighborhood of the head of Rocky Fork and the Heater Cemetery. Harley, it seems, had been poking behind and “Red” and Elmer decided to give introduce him to some graveyard humor. The night was dark and moonless and stumbling through the hills was par for the course. Taking up positions behind tombstones in the Heater Cemetery, the boys remained quiet as the confused Harley listened in vain for their voices within a stone’s throw of their hiding places. Every self-respecting Orlando boy could also give a good imitation of a graveyard ghost and “Red” and Elmer were quite good in imitating old “Casper.” Without the ready and present support of his brother and friend, Harley’s confidence was no match for the wretched cries of the graveyard ghosts, and more than terrified, he beat a quick and hasty retreat toward home, as a result of the graveyard humor of “Red” and Elmer.

Walkers

After “Red” left school in the midst of the Depression, he took up employment doing farm work on his father’s farm. Wages weren’t lavish, but he had a roof over his head, and food to eat. Of course he had no automobile given his meager income but country boys were used to walking. “Red’s” son-in-law, Stanley Barton, recalls that “Red” and his brothers, Bud and Ed, frequently walked to Burnsville to see a movie. Not many youth of today would walk five miles to see a movie and then walk back home in the dark.

World War II

“Red” was twenty years old when his number was called at the local draft board. In 1942 ‘’Red” left his Three Lick home for a home with Uncle Sam. As was the common practice of the military during World War II, if a conscriptee had minimal education he was either assigned to the infantry or some similar front-line position. “Red,” by chance, was assigned to training as a machine gunner and it was in that position that he served during World War II in the North African and Italian theaters of war with nearly two years in overseas service. Although “Red” did not talk much about his service in World War II, Stanley Barton does recall that his father-in-law mentioned the bravery of French nurses who were serving in Sicily. During an artillery bombardment, the French nurses went into the field of battle to care for the wounded despite the artillery blasts which were occurring all around them. The French nurses won “Red’s” undying admiration for that heroic act. Stanley also recalls his father-in-law’s reminiscence of a happy, but brief, reunion with his older brother “Bud” when they both were serving in North Africa until their respective units went their separate ways. Stanley also relates that the nearest that his father-in-law came to being injured during the war was when his machine gun “blew up” during an engagement, causing a serious eye injury. Although “Red” recovered from that mishap, later in life he lost the sight in the eye which had been injured when the machine gun exploded.

Left, above: Draftees. Denver Owen is in the back row, fourth from the left.

Right: Poster celebrating the French nurses.

Left: Denver Owen Henline

Marriage

After the war was over, and the military issuing discharges, “Red” again became a civilian. Returning home and starting courting in earnest to make up for lost time, “Red” couldn’t believe his luck when the pretty seventeen- year-old Gladys Katherine Hitt of Bendale said “Yes” to his marriage proposal in September 1946. Married in Weston, most of their married life was spent there where they raised seven children.

Right: Gladys Katherine Hitt

Post War Employment

Coal Mining
During the war, Pid and Minnie Henline decided to give up life on Three Lick and moved to the metropolis of Weston and its suburb of Shadybrook. It was to this home that “Red” returned when he was discharged from the service in December 1945. After a period of re-adjustment to civilian life and surveying the employment prospects, “Red” decided to take employment in the coal mines of Webster County and he and Gladys moved to the Webster County town of Cowen. The small town of Tioga was the location of a deep mine which was welcoming returning veterans for coal mining jobs and “Red” signed on. According to Stanley Barton, the seams of coal in the Tioga mine were five to six feet thick. Being only five feet and four inches tall, “Red” didn’t have to bend his head much to work in the lower seams of coal. Although high coal was much better to work in than low coal, a troublesome aspect of the Tioga mine was the frequency of roof falls which endangered the miners. “Red” reported to his family that “glory holes,” nearly twenty feet high would appear in the mine roofs after a roof fall and shoring up such a cavity was problematic and scary to the miners who worked there. After less than a year living in Cowen and working in the Tioga mine, “Red” didn’t want to press his luck any further and left the wilds of Webster County and a “death trap” coal mine for the more placid countryside around Jackson’s Mill where he found employment loading coal on coal cars for Bitner Fuel. For the next thirty-five years, “Red” was employed by Bitner Fuel.

Glassworker

After his employment in the coal industry, late in his working career, “Red” found employment with Louie Glass of Weston mixing batches of glass, sand and lime for use in making for stemware, glasses and pitchers. Later, he worked for West Virginia Glass carrying hot stemware.

Black Lung

Stanley Barton recalled that his father-in-law had a terrible cough when he first came to know him. Pneumoconiosis or “black lung” was not then widely recognized as a disease of coal miners but from his years breathing fine coal dust, “Red” came to know the disease well. Black lung disease often exacerbates existing heart troubles.

During his later years, “Red” often asked family members to drive him to Orlando, the home of his youth. “He loved Orlando,” recalled his son-in-law Stanley Barton, who frequently was the driver for the Orlando excursions. Besides Three Lick, one place in Orlando which especially drew him was the Orlando Cemetery, a place where he found peace and contentment. “Red” passed away in 1996 at the age of 74 and now rests in the Orlando Cemetery. In November 2000, his wife Gladys joined him and reposes by his side.

The Other Denver Owen Henline –

“Frank and Audra's Boy”

The gathering place for the children of Samantha Henline who lived away when they visited Orlando was the Samantha Henline home place located across Oil Creek from St. Michael’s Catholic Church. Samantha’s son Frank, his wife Audrey, and their family lived for most of their lives in Clarksburg and Doddridge County. Born in 1925, the second son of Coy Clarence "Frank" and Audra or Audrey Henline was named Denver Owen Henline. Frank and Audrey are believed to have been unaware that "Frank’s" brother “Pid” had also named his son, born in 1922, Denver Owen Henline.

The Samantha Henline family was peculiar when it concerned names of individuals or animals. For example, the family always had farm dogs but there seemed to be no consensus among the family as to the name of a particular dog. Some family members referred to a dog as “Bullet,” while others called the same dog “Sandy,” and then others called it “Porter.” This of course caused endless confusion to the poor dog because it never knew what its name might be from one minute to the next. The same confusion reigned when it came to the names of Beham and Samantha Henline's children. William, the oldest, was known as “Todd,” Estella was known as “Estie” or “Stellie,” Ernest was known as “Heaterhuck,” Erza was known as “Pid,” Clora was known as “Cooch,” Margaret was known as “Mag,” Verdis was known as “Polar,” and Coy was known as “Frank.” So, what to do about two grandchildren, both named “Denver Owen Henline?” Imagine, if you will, the old folks sitting around the Henline living room chuckling and discussing how to identify each of the two boys. One might suppose that one could be referred to as “Frank’s boy, Denver” or “Pid’s boy, Denver.” Of course, substituting the name “Owen” wouldn’t work either because Samantha already had a grandson named Owen Thomas. Just as the diehard Henline family members continued to call the same dog “Bullet,” “Sandy,” and “Porter,” they never worried about the incongruity of having two close-in-age grandsons of Samatha Henline who were both named “Denver Owen Henline."

Although Samantha Henline and her children who remained in Orlando would have enjoyed their brother Frank’s company more often, the fact of the matter is that he lived in either Clarksburg or in Doddridge County and didn’t make it back to Orlando that often. As the old saying goes, “out of sight, out of mind,” so having two Denver Owen Henlines in the family didn’t cause that much confusion.

Uncle Sam Finds Another Recruit

Frank Henline’s son, Denver Owen, was born in 1925, the third of four children. Although he was born in Doddridge County, Denver went to Washington Irving High School in Clarksburg. His father had found war-time employment in Clarksburg and the family lived in the Northview section of the city. In Denver Owen, as well as in the minds of many young high school boys during World War II, the urge to be of service to country trumped the idea of finishing high school. Consequently, in 1943, before finishing school, Denver prevailed upon his parents to consent to his enlistment in the United States Navy and, with a nod, off he went to the Great Lakes Training Center in Illinois. After basic seaman training, Denver was assigned to the destroyer, U. S. S. Van Valkenburgh, DD-656, and service in the Pacific.

Left: Frank's son Denver Owen Henline.

Right: the U.S.S. Van Valkenburgh

Kamikazees

The war in the Pacific was for the most part a hazardous occupation for naval ships. During the battles for the islands of Iwo Jima and Okinawa, Japanese pilots, flying one way trips laden with bombs, found many American warships as targets. The U. S. S. Van Valkenburgh was in the thick of the fighting for the well-defended Japanese islands. One after another, the Japanese kamikazes struck the harried American fleet. Denver served as a pilot for the landing ships which carried the Marine invasion force to the beaches. Fighting was intense during the early months of 1945 and Denver was in the thick of it. Fortunately, like his cousin Denver, he came through the fighting relatively unscathed. Like most veterans of the great conflict, he spoke little of it to his family after the war.

Left: Example of a Kamikaze attack.

Married Life and Weirton Steel

Soon after the war, Denver married the former Doris Williams in Catlettsburg, Kentucky. They lived their married life in the Weirton area and were the parents of two sons and a daughter.
Denver found employment with Weirton Steel and later with its successor, National Steel. He retired from the latter corporation with many years service as a loader at the Riverdocks.

It’s Not Denver, It’s Owen, or Is It

Doris Henline, Denver’s widow, stated that she never cared for the name “Denver,” so she always called her husband “Owen.” Likewise, his brother Burlin Henline always referred to him as “Owen.” Doris however said that at work, his co-workers didn’t call him “Owen” but called him “Denver.” When he died in 1994 at the age of 69, his obituary referred to him as “Denver O. Henline.”

What’s in a Name?

Not only did their names mirror the other, but in many respects the lives of the two Denver Owen Henlines were lived in much the same fashion. Both men were rooted in Orlando, both served their country honorably during World War II, were good providers for their respective families but lived simply. Neither man seemed attached to his first given name, perhaps to avoid the confusion which resulted in both being named Denver Owen Henline.

. . . . .

Comment 1: from Lora Lee (Swiger) Gilmore:

I am the granddaughter of Coy (Frank) and Audra (Audrey) Henline. Just wanted to comment that it is incorrect when it states that Owen the 3rd child of Frank and Audra. Owen was the second child. My mother Ernestine Rose was the third child. Irma Lee the fourth child. Also, in the names of the two cousins, Owen was called Owen because his older brother Burlin couldn't say Denver and called him "O" and that transferred into Owen. Grandpa and Grandma were not aware of the other Denver when they named Owen, Denver Owen. Uncle Owen served during the war in Australia also. Uncle Owen didn't come away from the war without some damage. Grandma always told me that Owen returned "Shell Shocked" because his ship was torpedoed. His head and body shock when came home. It eventually went away, but returned sometime prior to his death. I talked to him by phone a number of times not long before he died.

Left: Lora Gilmore's graduation portrait

Right: Lora Gilmore's school picture at 12 years of age.

I was also wondering if much is known about Uncle Todd. I have a picture him. He was a handsome man. Grandpa did not talk about him much. I too have fond memories of Orlando. We always went to Orlando when Burlin would come up from Marietta and get us. I lived with Frank and Audra and they raised me. For most of my life my grandparents and I were alone as all the other children had moved away. I have very found memories of them and I miss them to this day. They loved me very much and had great faith in me. My grandfather used to tell me not to depend on a man for a living. He said that I should get myself and education and be able to be self sufficient. Prior to getting married to Ed Gilmore in 1970 I did just that by becoming a nurse.

We were always very happy when Burlin came and took us to Orlando. Grandpa or Papaw as I called him did not own a car and could not drive. I even remember riding with Burlin by myself to Orlando so I could be with him. He was a very special Uncle to me. I saw him just recently back in June. It was so good to see him since it had been 10 years when I last saw him. Burlin would sit me up on his school books so I could see out the window. I remember once when I went with Burlin to Orlando; I went to barn with Uncle Heater in the morning to see the animals and I got my socks wet from the dew. Aunt Clorie told me she was going to spank me for getting my socks wet. She made me stand by the hot coal fueled potbellied stove. As a young child I disliked her and was afraid of her because of the sock incident, but as I grew into a teenager I knew her as a very sweet, loving, and kind. Great Aunt.

My favorite thing to do in Orlando was to go to Coleman and Helen's house. She was such a great cook. I always got to play with her children and we would run around the farm. Once Charles Jefferies and I collected leaves in the woods for a school project I had and I got poison oak and was in really bad shape for awhile.

I'll sign off now. Sincerely, Lora Gilmore

One of Alexander Skinner's Granddaughters

Priscilla Estella (Henline) Godfrey Thomas

by David Parmer

Samantha and Beham's First Child

The vows of marriage were exchanged between Samantha Skinner and Beham Henline on April 5th 1876. According to the entries in Samantha’s well-worn hand-stitched Bible, the young couple was married by the Reverend Gabriel Dennison, a pioneer settler on Clover Fork. The ceremony took place at the home of her older sister and brother-in-law, David Newton and Mary Jane (Skinner) Godfrey, who lived a short way down Oil Creek. (Samantha and Beham's first child would marry one of D.N. and Mary Ann's younger son,s Melitus, who was 6 years old at the time of his aunt and uncle's, and future in-laws', marriage.)

The 23-year-old Samantha and Beham, three years her senior, became parents of their first child on January 24, 1877. The new-born would be named “Priscilla Estella.” (Beham had a sister named Priscilla.) As the child grew and more children came the six syllable name “Priscilla Estella” soon would become shortened to “Estie,” a name which the first born child of Samantha and Beham would carry for the remainder of her life.

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Left: Beham and Samantha (Skinner) Henline's oldest child, Estie, with her granddaughters Judy and Jetta Thomas.

Right: Samantha (Skinner) and Beham Henline

Left and Right, below: The second Henline home, which replaced the one that burned down.

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Confluence on Oil Creek

During Estie’s first dozen years she was joined by the birth of five brothers and three sisters. After living on Indian Fork in Gilmer County and later on upper Oil Creek near Bear Run, the Henline family moved to Confluence. The Henline home in Confluence was located on a parcel of approximately 40 acres which had been deeded to Samantha by her father Alexander Skinner. Beham built a simple two-story clapboard home with a shingle shake roof on the south side of Oil Creek, opposite and upstream from the Mt. Zion Methodist Church. He set up a country store in the house which served the sleepy little farming hamlet and farmed his land, as well. The hillside portion of the farm was planted with fruit, nut trees and berries and included large fields which provided grass for the farm animals. The corn field and house garden were located on the lower part of the farm along Oil Creek.

Around 1890, life in Confluence began to change. It had been rumored for some time that the West Virginia and Pittsburgh Railroad was to be located through the Oil Creek Valley and Burnsville with a final destination of Richwood. Soon railroad agents visited Samantha and other landowners along Oil Creek to purchase rights of way for the location of the railroad tracks. As the laying of track along Oil Creek ensued, the Henlines found themselves less than a stone’s throw from the rail tracks and found that smoke from the locomotives which created dirt and an extra washing day. Soon, the unfortunate location of the Henline home too close to the tracks resulted in a roof fire caused by embers from the steam locomotive which burned the house to the ground. Perhaps, just as well. The original location of the home had made it subject to the periodic flooding of Oil Creek. So, when plans were made to rebuild, the new home was built not only farther away from the railroad but also from the waters of Oil Creek.

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Miletus Godfrey

Miletus, or “Lete,” Godfrey was the son of David Newton Godfrey and Mary Jane (Skinner) Godfrey and was a first cousin to Estie. Neighbors most of their lives, 26-year-old Lete and 20-year-old Estie decided that they knew each other well enough to marry so in 1897 Lete and Estie were married by Reverend J. H. Mossburg at the residence of C. S. Gainer, an early Confluence merchant. During the first five years of their marriage Lete and Estie became parents of a boy named Harry and a girl named Sophia. According to June Nixon Henry, daughter of Margaret (Henline) Nixon, Lete and Estie lived in a small house near the location of the later built St. Michael’s Catholic Church and across Oil Creek from the Henline homestead.

Left:Estelle and Lete's son Harry

Right: Estelle and Lete's daughter Sophia

Typhoid

Typhoid fever was a deadly scourge of early residents of Oil Creek. Not only were the effects of the disease usually fatal, it was also easily communicable. Many promising lives were cut short by the dreaded disease and its victims and survivors suffered long-lasting great physical pain and debilitation. In 1901, typhoid was running rampant along Oil Creek and 32-year-old Lete Godfrey became a victim. At the same time, his ten year-old-sister-in-law Margaret Henline who lived just across Oil Creek also fell ill from the disease. One of the effects of typhoid is a severe inflammation of the bowels and sometimes perforation, which is usually fatal. June (Nixon) Henry recalls that her mother Margaret Henline spoke of her serious childhood illness and that she was very ill for a long time. Young Margaret, after many days of being at death’s door, resisted the hand of death and early one morning rose from her bed recovered, but voraciously hungry. In later years Margaret told her daughter that when she arose that early morning hour she went to the kitchen and found a bowl of creamed tomato dumplings and ate the entire contents of the bowl. After slaking her appetite, Margaret went out on the porch of her home for fresh air. Looking across Oil Creek toward the home of her sister Estie and brother-in-law Lete Godfey, Margaret noticed that the moon in the sky above her sister’s home appeared to be “blood red,” perhaps she thought, an omen of bad things to come.

Right: Margaret, Estie's young sister who survuved Typhoid Fever.

The Hand of Fate, a Red Moon,

a Few Apples and a “Busted Gut”

Lete Godfrey’s condition was serious. During a typhoid illness it is necessary to avoid any physical or mental stress which could aggravate the precarious condition of the ailing patient. Lete had been in his bed for over two weeks, in great pain and with periods of unconsciousness. On one day during a lucid moment, Lete was informed by a visitor that someone had entered his orchard and had stolen apples from his trees. At the turn of the 20th century, a farmer lived by what he raised and could ill-afford any loss of his agricultural efforts. The news of a theft of apples from his orchard infuriated Lete and caused him great emotional stress. Lete’s reaction to this report of crime apparently caused a rupture of his highly inflamed intestines and he immediately took a turn for the worse and died almost immediately, according to the family, of a “busted gut.” Until her dying day, Margaret Henline Nixon remembered the red moon which hung ominously over the home of Lete Godfrey and brought grief to her sister Estie on September 12, 1902.

The Widow Estie and Her Two Children, Harry and Sophia

Godfrey’s infant daughter Sophia was but one year of age. Harry was three. Lete Godfrey had not reached his 32nd birthday as the last shovelful of dirt was cast upon his wooden coffin. Estie was fortunate to have a close-knit and supportive family to rely upon. Grandmother Samantha was still in her late 40’s and Beham was just past his 50th birthday. The Henline clan was a strong farm family and familial duty welcomed the widowed Estie and her children back to the fold.

Mike Thomas

He was swarthy in complexion, his English was fractured, he was taller than average, and his roots were in the mid-East in a country called “Syria.” His handsome appearance did not go unnoticed by the widow Estie as Mike Thomas opened his peddler’s pack to reveal the many enticing contents within. Estie was smitten by more than the thimbles and threads and fancy scissors in his pack, and, in the normal course of things, the widow and the Syrian peddler were married in July 1905.

Entries about Mike Thomas:

Mike Thomas' Family

Peddlers and Drummers

Pool Room Entrepreneur

It is difficult to be a pack peddler and a married man with a ready-made family. Young Harry and the toddler Sophia needed a father’s hand and Mike therefore couldn’t be trudging along the railroad tracks in some far-off county looking for a customer for some fine silk fabric tucked in the peddler’s pack. And besides those considerations, Estie was pregnant with Mike’s first child. What better reason to leave the peddler’s life and set down roots. Another consideration was the recent completion of the Coal and Coke Railroad through Confluence, the building of a union depot by the Baltimore and Ohio and the Coal and Coke and the great increase in rail passenger traffic through the Confluence junction. With the encouragement of his bride, Mike closed his peddler’s pack for good and took up the pool room trade.

It is unknown where the Mike Thomas pool room was first located in Orlando when he first picked up the rack and said “Break,” but it is known that his pool room was later located on the first floor of the Wholesale Building beginning around 1908. The pool room was equipped with a state-of-the-art pool table and soon nickels and dimes began changing hands for the privilege to pick up a cue stick and lace the multi-colored ivory balls across the green felt.

And Comes the Children

At about the same time, to provide room for his growing family, Mike built a small house at the lower edge of the Henline orchard which lay on the hill behind the Henline home place. Soon, it seemed, the small house on the hill at the orchard’s edge was full of children: Tom, the first child, was soon followed by Bill, Owen, Marie, Arden, and Virginia. It is family lore that the fifth Thomas child, Arden, was so small at birth that he could easily fit in the palm of a hand and that to keep him warm he was swaddled in a blanket and kept on the open door of the cook stove.

Left: Mike holding Kate, Tom, Owen, Arden, Marie and Bill.

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Mike and Estie Move to Copen

While Orlando could be considered as a railroad boom town in the early 1900’s, Copen during the first quarter of the 20th century could be called a coal mining boom town. The nearby towns of Bower and Gilmer also were hosting busy coal mines at this time employing several hundred mners. Coal mining attracted a younger work force, many of whom were single and who, during their days off, enjoyed shooting a game of pool. Mike decided that that Copen should be a better location for the pool room business than Orlando so the Mike and Estie Thomas family bid adieu to Orlando and moved to Copen.
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Copen

Land was selling at a premium in Copen in the early 1920s. There was precious little flat land that wasn’t already developed for housing or being used for agricultural use. Mike and Estie Thomas were not wealthy and could not pay the premium prices for the best land, consequently they purchased a narrow neck of land along the railroad right of way between the Copen Depot and Bower. Mike built a long and narrow frame house with bedrooms which opened directly onto the porch. These bedrooms could be rented to miners or railroad workers who could come and go as they pleased without disturbing the rest of the household. Mike’s pool room was built at the end of the house toward the Copen Depot. The pool room was not in the most ideal of locations and did not thrive.

On the porch of the Copen home, Left to right: Opal Jeffries, Sophie (Godfrey) Jarvis, Marie Thomas, Estie and Mike, Margaret (Henline) Nixon, Tom, Bill and Owen, and sitting, Arden and Virginia.

Another important matter which was not thriving was Mike’s health. He was diagnosed with tuberculosis in 1924 and the disease was progressing when Mike decided that the pool room business might better flourish at Alton in Upshur County in another coal mining community.

Alton

Alton is situated about midway between Buckhannon and Pickens. In the 1920’s coal mines were active in Upshur and southern Randolph Counties. Mike rented a small house and pool room in Alton located near the train depot. Unfortunately, Mike miscalculated the business he hoped the pool room would bring in and times were tough. Estie’s granddaughter, Ruby Brooks recalls her grandmother telling her of the lack of business and that the family “nearly starved to death.” Alton also was at a higher elevation than Copen and Orlando and winters were much more severe. Ruby also recalls her grandmother telling her that she had to paste newspaper to the walls to prevent the cold air and snow from blowing into the tiny house. Such conditions surely worsened Mike’s tubercular condition. He took a turn for the worse and died in February 1925. At the age of 48, Estie was a widow for the second time. Mike was laid to rest in the Orlando Cemetery.

Return to Copen

Estie returned to Copen after Mike’s death and lived there the remainder of her life. Her daughters Marie and Virginia, and her sons, Tom, Owen, Bill and Arden, continued to live with her. Her two older children, Harry and Sophia, had married and were living away. In time, all of her sons married and left home. Bill worked at a Clarksburg plant and Tom, Owen, and Arden worked for the railroad. Her daughter Virginia became a school teacher and after teaching for a few years in Braxton County rural schools and Burnsville Grade School, moved to northern Virginia around 1951 to continue her teaching career. Marie, the oldest Thomas daughter, was a long-time storekeeper and postmistress in Copen.

Left: Virginia and Marie Thomas
Right: 3 of tghe 4 Thomas brothers Tom Bill and Owen Thomas
Left: the 4th Thomas brother, Arden

Her Grandchildren Remember Estie

Estie's Dust Cap

Ruby Brooks helps us complete the portrait of her grandmother Estie Thomas. Ruby, now 83 years of age, remembers Estie as very short, “maybe only four and a half feet tall.” “I always looked forward to visiting grandmother at Copen and until I turned eight years old, I was able to get a rail pass free of charge. We would stop at Orlando first and visit there for a couple of days and then go on to Copen.” June (Nixon) Henry also remembers her aunt Estie as a short woman who seemed to have a shoulder blade “out of place” as a permanent condition. Apparently her young grandchildren and nieces never inquired about the curious hump on Estie’s back but just accepted it since it never seemed to bother her. “She always wore a dust bonnet and was never without one,” recalled both her granddaughter Ruby and niece June. Helen Jeffries, a niece-in-law, also recalled Estie’s omnipresent dust cap and recalled that Estie was buried in an elaborately crocheted dust bonnet which had been made for her by a friend. Helen also recalled that Estie, like her sister Clora Henline, always wore an apron and was never without one tied at the waist.

Left: Estie in her dust bonnet.

The Vicious Dog

Granddaughter Ruby also recalls her grandmother as brave and fearless. Ruby recalls on one summer visit with her grandmother at Copen, a large, vicious dog came by Estie’s home and snapped at her toddler brother Franklin. Estie sent word to the dog’s owner about the incident and told the owner to “keep it tied or keep it home.” The following day, the same dog returned to the Thomas home and once again growled and intimidated young Franklin. Ruby remembers vividly that her grandmother went into the house and got her .22 rifle, knelt on one knee, took aim, and shot the threatening dog squarely between the eyes..

The Chamber Pot March
Through the Living Room

Ruby also recalls that her grandmother and Aunt Margaret Nixon were quite the jokesters. It seems Estie was quite protective of her very attractive daughters, Marie and Kate, who had no shortage of suitors. Estie was quite strict with young gentlemen callers and was always ready to discourage the young swains from getting close to her girls. Ruby vividly recalls one visit she and her Aunt Margaret made to Estie’s home. One evening Marie had a gentleman caller with whom she was socializing in the living room. Since the Thomas house had no indoor bathroom, each bedroom was provided with a chamber pot which was kept in an out building during the day. Estie instructed Ruby, her sister Rose, and her cousins, June and Billy Nixon, to go to the out building and bring the chamber pots into the house, not through the doors to the bedrooms, all of which opened onto the front porch, but rather through the living room where Marie and her young friend were holding forth. Doing as they were told, the youngsters retrieved the chamber pots from the out building and conducted a parade of the glorious chamber pots through the living room, marching past a rather uncomfortable and embarrassed Marie and the nose of her guest. Ruby doesn’t recall the name of the young swain but she doesn’t think he ever returned.

Right: Their Aunt Marie with Rose Jarvis and Lawana "Toodlebugs" Jarvis, daughter of Jesse's son by his first and late wife Nora

Bickering Sisters

It is reported that Samantha (Skinner) Henline was not a meek or mild woman but spoke her piece without fear of contradiction. A strict disciplinarian, Samantha ran a matriarchal home and her children, even as adults, were aware of “who was boss.” A strong will seemed to run in the family, particularly among the female children who also spoke their minds. Oft times, the strong wills among the Henline daughters brought about a clash of opinions, but most usually with tongue-in-cheek, although one anonymous observer who weighed in on the quarrelsome sisters felt the usual and common acrimony between them should not be “sugarcoated.”

Left: Three of the four sisters: Lulu, Estie, Clora
Right: Lulu and brother Ernest Roy "Heaterhuck" cutting up

Clora would say, “Now, Estellie!” whenever she disagreed with her sister on some insignificant thing, and Estie would retort, “Now, Clorie!” The sisters’ brother, Heaterhuck Henline, always got a kick out of the bantering that took place between his two older sisters whenever they got together. Indeed, Heaterhuck was very adept at “egging them on” so he could enjoy the fray. No family gathering was complete without Estie and Clora having a set-to, which was more entertaining than Amos and Andy on the radio. It is also reported that two other Henline sisters, Lula (Henline) Mitchell and Margaret (Henline) Nixon, could also hold their own in the bickering department. Age was no modifier to these amusing occurrences or “bantering sessions” until all the sisters had passed away.

Pleasant Visits

Burlen Henline, son of Estie’s brother Frank, and Audry (Reip) Henline, recalls that he and his mother loved visiting his Aunt Estie at Copen and always managed two or three days each time at Aunt Estie’s whenever he visited the Orlando home folks. Burlen recalls that the train passed through Copen and afforded a convenient means of transportation for the visit from his home in Clarksburg and later in West Union. The visits were always pleasant and a good time was always had by all. Burlen lamented the loss of the passenger train service which limited his mother’s ability to visit Estie at her Copen home and the loss of the pleasant visits.

In 1963, at age 86, Estie passed away, in the arms of her younger sister Lula.
She was buried in the Orlando Cemetery in a plot and beside a plot which would soon be occupied by her brother, Heaterhuck.

. . . . .

Note from David Parmer

Estie Thomas’ two children by Lete Godfrey, Harry Godfrey and Sophia Godfrey, grew up in Orlando. Harry worked for many years at the Hazel Atlas Glass plant in Clarksburg. Sophia worked for Dick Skinner in his wagon restaurant and met her future husband, Jesse Jarvis, while she was working there. Jess was employed by the Baldwin-Felts Detective Agency at the time and was involved in protecting the property of coal companies in southern West Virginia during the mine wars of the the late 1910’s and early 1920’s. Jess later worked in coal mines in Barbour County.

Comment by Tom Jeffries
I really enjoyed the story about Aunt Estie. It brought back a lot of memories. The last time I saw her was before I went into the service in 1962. She was very frail and unable to walk very far. Tom and Arden carried her on a chair. It was a great story, especially about the sisters being quarrelsome. I got myself away from them when they were bickering.