There’s nothing that’s more fun than when someone shows an interest in what you do (O.K., maybe a couple of things – but it’s right up there!)…so I was thrilled to be contacted by the television show Texas Country Reporter to talk about the historic cemeteries in Galveston.
This particular show focuses on the people of Texas more than the places, so there were more questions about me than I’m accustomed to…but you better bet that we ended up talking about Galveston history just the same!
I was originally contacted by one of the producers, and we exchanged a few rounds of information via email and by phone. Once the shooting schedule was set I was given a date that my segment would be shot.
What we see when we watch TCR episodes is a series of short interviews, but there are hours of work (and miles of travel) that go into producing each one.
When I asked Quintin, the energetic young producer in charge of my shoot, how the logistics of shooting so many stories come together, he explained that there is more than one team.
The crews group their shoots by area of the state, then line up times each subject has available.
Two sets of production teams are sent out to begin filming separate story segments for the show. After initial footage is shot, the hosts join them for their portion and then leave to join the other team.
Once the twosome in charge of producing and shooting the Galveston segment had time to get the bulk of footage with me in the cemeteries, the show hosts arrived to film their part – which took about an hour.
After the hosts finish, they left to meet up with the other producer/camera team to film their part of another story.
These two teams kind of “tag team” doing stories for a week, and then return to the office to edit the following week while another set of teams goes out. The process is obviously a well-oiled machine.
Quintin and Dan met me at the Broadway Cemetery District to go over ideas for information to include and begin shooting some “B roll” footage. “B-rolls” consist of footage edited in around the main portion of the segment to complement and fill it out.
I had sent out a note to some friends a few days prior that we would need some “faux tour-takers” when the crew needed shots representing the tours that I give at the cemetery, just before noon, and luckily I have great friends and a super sister who braved the heat to join us for a little over an hour. A HUGE thank you to all of them!!
After that, the show hosts Bob and Kelli Phillips arrived. If you watch the show, you will be happy to know that they are just as sweet and thoughtful as they appear on TV.
The producer and I had figured out ahead of time some of the information to include, but the couple had many of their own questions as well. Sitting on the wall of Trinity Episcopal Cemetery, Kelli and I got to chatting right away. Though Bob was standing behind the producer and Dan the camera operator, he asked questions as well, but it soon became apparent that the segment would just include Kelli and I on camera.
The producer at one point laughingly asked Bob, “Are you just going to give Kelli the entire segment?”, to which he replied, “I guess I am.”
They also invited me (as they do all their on-air guests) to take part in the Texas Country Reporter Festival in Waxahachie on October 28. I’m trying to decide if I really want to have a book booth…or just wander around and have fun talking to people! You can find out more about the festival here: http://texascountryreporter.com/festival
After the Phillips left to go on to the next assignment, we took a lunch break with the plan to meet afterward at the Galveston Texas History Center of the Rosenberg Library. It’s one of the locations that I told the crew from our first conversations was important to include. Their resources are invaluable to any researcher interested in local history.
The Head of Special Collections Lauren Martino and Senior Archivist Sean McConnell were wonderful enough to have pulled a wide variety of maps, documents and photos to represent the types of materials that might be used in my type of research.
Once we finished at the library, Quintin and Dan were heading back to the cemeteries to look for particular types of gravestones to shoot, so I went with them to save them from wasting “searching around” time.
It also gave me a chance to talk to them a bit about how they got started, what the favorite stories they worked on were and why. They get the chance to capture stories of all sorts of people: artists, veterans, craftsmen, storytellers and local characters.
The day before they filmed the Galveston segment, they shot a beekeeper in Houston removing a hive from the wall of a home. They all had to wear the protective gear, but said it was still pretty unnerving.
One laughed an said it was obvious that I was usually on the “other side” of interviews. Well…yeah.
I was also very happy that they filmed its story in late April to catch some of the amazing coreopsis that covers the cemetery complex in May. They may not have been at the height of bloom, but they looked beautiful. And hopefully this adorable little girl will be making a cameo appearance!
And just a note…we met at the cemeteries at 7:40 a.m. and left that day at 4:15 p.m. So I probably s-h-o-u-l-d have remembered sunscreen, ha ha!
When Quintin and Dan left they were heading for Beaumont to film the next day. Quintin is single and Dan has arranged to bring his wife along whenever she wants, so they are both at perfect times in their lives for this kind of work. What a great way to see our state.
So when will the segment about Galveston’s Broadway Cemeteries air? We’ll have to be patient. It will be part of the new season in the fall, so I should have an airdate by September. I’ll keep you posted!
In Houston Texas Country Reporter airs on Saturday evenings at 5:00 p.m. on KHOU 11 (CBS). For other market airtime and stations, visit http://texascountryreporter.com/showtimes
When you’re a history buff, visiting historical sites is just part of any well-rounded getaway!
My sister and I just got back from a trip to Oklahoma, where we spent part of every one of our childhood summers. My grandparents’ farm was built on my grandfather’s Indian land grant (he was a Cherokee, born in 1899…but I’ll share more about him later).
On our way to find the farm again, we decided to go to Pawhuska to visit the Pioneer Woman Mercantile and the ranch where Ree Drummond films her Food Network show.
In addition to that, I had heard of an amazing Catholic church in town built by the Osage Indians. The stunning stained glass windows are the feature that draws most visitors to this historic church.
Before we left on our trip, I called the Immaculate Conception Catholic Church, and confirmed that we would be able to take a tour on the day we planned to be in town. The lovely lady who answered the phone assured me that she would be there. If you plan to go, you can also check their Facebook page for details.
Pulling into the parking lot, there is nothing particularly grand about the exterior appearance of the structure, but the moment we stepped inside it took our breath away.
The 22 windows in the sanctuary are considered to be among the most unusual stained glass of any church in the United States. Traditional Catholic windows feature biblical scenes, and twenty of those found in this church do as well.
The other two, however, depict images of people who were alive at the time the church was erected – which is strictly against Catholic guidelines. The Pope gave special dispensation for these to be created as an acknowledgement of the special relationship between the Osage and the Catholic missionaries.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. First I’d like to share just a bit about the history of the church itself, which is as interesting as its details.
The church is known in the Pawhuska area as the Cathedral of the Osage.
Knowing that the Osage in the area may have been the richest people per capita in the world at the time may come as a surprise to many, but definitely explains the exquisite cathedral and its rich details.
In the beginning of the 20th century when oil was struck on Osage land, the tribe suddenly went from one of the poorest tribes to the richest.
The men are said to have driven the finest cars and simply replaced them if they broke down or got a flat tire. The women of the tribe walked the streets of town with diamonds on their shoes.
Their parish priest at the time was Father Edward Van Waesberghe, who laid out plans and designs for the church around 1910. The priest even did much of the brickwork himself, aided by Osage members.
Inside the church, the ceiling is a series of cross-ribbed arches, painted with a pattern that mimics traditional Osage ribbon work.
Ribbon work patterns also appear as details in many of the stained glass windows.
The altar, draped with an Indian blanket, and statues were made by the same craftsmen who supplied them to the famous Loretto Chapel in Santa Fe, New Mexico.
Osage oil money built the church, and enabled the tribe to afford exquisite stained glass ordered from the Bavarian Art Glass Company in Munich Germany.
Being created in a country in the midst of World War I held dangers for such fragile masterpieces however, and for a while the German artisans buried the almost completed windows in a local sandy river bank in Munich to protect them from possible shelling.
The artisans themselves traveled to Oklahoma with the 36 foot tall windows, which were shipped in sections to Pawhuska and placed in the church prior to its completion in 1916.
Each of the windows is a stunning masterpiece, with the brilliant red panes achieved through the addition of gold dust.
The two most unique windows in the cathedral feature the images of Native Americans.
The ‘Columbus Window’ in the south transept depicts the Pentecost scene on the upper panels, and Christopher Columbus’ first encounter with Native Americans in the New World on the lower panels. It was donated by the William S. Mathews family.
Opposite this window, on the north side of the building though, is the exceptional work of art that many travel from around the country (and world) to see in person.
The ‘Osage Window’ portrays the scene of Jsesuit missionary Father John Shoenmakers, known as ‘Black Robe,’ bringing Catholicism to the Osage Nation, at a time when the tribe lived in Kansas before they were moved to Indian Territory. Shoenmakers was held in such high regard by members of the tribe that his name, as Sho-Mink-Ah, is now used as the Osage word for priest.
In addition to the clergyman, the window depicts the images of actual people in traditional Osage dress surrounding the priest, intently listening to the word of God. Many of the tribal members were still alive at the time it was created. They include Osage Chief Bacon Rind, his wife Julia, Chief Saucy Calf, and interpreter Arthur Bonnecastle and his wife. Photographs of those included were sent to Germany along with the order for the windows. This window was donated by Rose Hill, Angie Bonniecastle and T. J. Leahy.
Two adorable little girls stand out from the rest of those pictured, partly due to their stance of staring directly out from the window. They are actual portraits of two young girls who died tragically young from the devastating smallpox disease. They represent the eternal saving power of God’s words to their souls.
Father Shoenmakers worked for 36 years among the Osage until his death in 1883.
A very small room off the vestibule holds the original baptismal font, as well as a partial view of the ‘Expulsion’ window depicting the banishment of Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden, and the ‘Revelation of St. John.’
Only the lower half of the Eden window is visible however, until one climbs to the organ loft to view the upper half, where musical instruments appear in the design.
The same can be said of the ‘Annunciation’ window in the vestibule on the opposite side, which is partially obscured by the tightly winding steps to the loft. The roses at the feet of Mary glow impressively in the late afternoon sun.
My sister spotted the name ‘Juanita Scott’ on the donor section of one of the window, which made us smile because…although we knew it wasn’t the same person…it was our grandmother’s name.
The remaining windows at Immaculate Conception depict traditional Biblical scenes in a highly detailed and theologically symbolic manner, including ‘The Child Jesus Teaching in the Temple,’ ‘Wisdom, Age and Grace,’ ‘The Wedding Feast,’ and other classic biblical portrayals. Each one is beautifully detailed and worthy of study.
When we asked how many people attended mass there now, the guide responded about 80 to 100 people. For a cathedral of this size, that took us aback. But generations of families have been attending since the church was built, and about 80-90 percent of the parish remains a part of the Osage.
This treasure trove of glass masterworks is definitely worth a detour from any nearby trip route.
The ‘Nancy Drew’ in me just loves running across gravestone mysteries like this one at Galveston Memorial Cemetery. I couldn’t wait to put on my ‘research hat’ and find out what it means.
This particular symbol is a marker for the Seven Society, founded in 1905. It is the most secretive of the University of Virginia‘s secret societies. Members are only revealed after their death, when a wreath of black magnolias in the shape of a seven is placed at the gravesite, the bell tower of University Chapel chimes at seven second intervals on the seventh dissonant chord when it is seven past the hour, and a notice is published in the universities alumni news.
The only known method to successfully contact the society is to place a letter at the Thomas Jefferson statue inside the university’s historic rotunda.
Definitely not a symbol often seen on gravestones on the Gulf Coast of Texas!
The stage of bloom of the rose indicates the age of the deceased. A bud would have represented a child, a partially opened flower would indicate someone was a teen or young adult, and a rose in full bloom would symbolize the departed had reached maturity.
No matter which stage of bloom the flower portrays, the stem is often depicted as broken as a sign that the person was lost too soon – a life cut short.
Two roses joined together stand for a strong bond such as marriage, and often appear on the joint marker of a couple.
A wreath of roses symbolizes beauty and virtue.
A garland of roses, which may be held by an angel, indicates sorrow, and a bouquet of roses stands for condolences, sorrow or grief.
So the next time you see the depiction of a rose on a gravestone, take a moment to decipher what information it can share.
It never seems to fail: you’ve searched endlessly for a particular gravestone, and when you finally find it…the inscription is in shadows with the sun at the back of the marker.
With a little preparation, this won’t be a problem at all.
For years I’ve kept a roll of aluminum foil in the back of my car, along with other “cemetery kit” supplies. Not because I wanted to always be prepared for a bar-b-que (although that might not be a bad idea, either!), but to use to reflect light onto dark gravestones during my spur-of-the-moment cemetery visits.
When the goal was to read or transcribe a marker but not necessarily photograph it, A simple hand mirror from the dollar store also serves that purpose.
This past Christmas my husband gave me a collapsible photography reflector so I could finally retire my box of foil. They are relatively inexpensive, small and portable so I highly recommend getting one.
When used to reflect available light onto the surface with an inscription (plaque, gravestone, cornerstone or other surface), previously illegible information can easily be read.
Watch the video for a quick demonstration of how easily and well it works.
Today’s icy weather is definitely not the norm for this part of Texas. Our streets, tires and infrastructure is designed to handle heavy rains and heat, but not snow.
But because it’s such a rare occurrence, photos of snowfalls from the past seem especially enchanting. On Valentine’s Day in 1895 Galveston was blanketed with over a foot of snow, bringing street car traffic to a halt, and closing the doors of banks and wholesale businesses.
The snow began to fall about one o’clock in the afternoon, and continued to fall for the rest of the day.
Shoes stores sold out of “gum boots” (rubber boots) and overshoes, as even the most sedate citizens took part in citywide snowball fights. Merchants, policemen, bankers carriage drivers, doctors an other adults took the opportunity to launch snowballs at each other, to the delight of onlookers.
Those trapped at the train station waiting for trains that had no way of reaching them were less amused. The bright spot at the station occurred when Officer Perrett saved a yellow dog he found half-frozen in a snow drift, and warmed it by the waiting room stove.
A few ingenious locals attached temporary runners on their carriages and used them as makeshift sleighs. Others were the victims of icy falls and other mishaps.
As evening fell Dr. Isaac Cline, the now famous Galveston meteorologist was busily answering telephone inquiries about the prospect of more snow, but were met with the news that the “worst” was over. Our generation isn’t the first to be excited over the prospect of snow or worry about it’s implications…and it certainly won’t be the last.
Photographs courtesy of the Rosenberg Library Archives.
A small, unassuming grave marker stands in the Trinity Episcopal Cemetery of Galveston, located at Forty-First Street and Broadway. Tough simple in design, it marks a New Year’s Day that encompassed the tragedy of the War Between the States; the day a Confederate officer embraced a dying Union officer, his own son.
When West Point graduate and military veteran Colonel Albert M. Lea moved to Texas in 1857 his son Edward remained in Maryland to attend the United States Naval Academy and continue the celebrated military tradition of the family; the same family that would be devastated by fighting each other within the very country they loved.
As a Texan and friend of General Sam Houston, Albert Lea applied for a Confederate commission in March 1861, just one month before the Civil War began. He wrote a letter to his then 26-year-old son advising him to follow his conscience when he made the decision regarding which side of the conflict to support, but added an ominous warning: “If you decide to fight for the Old Flag,” he said, “It is not likely that we will meet again, except face to face on the battlefield.”
Edward chose loyalty to the Union, telling his fellow officers he did not desire his family’s love if it involved being a traitor to his country.
After months of serving in a variety of locations, Colonel Lea was transferred back to Texas on December 15, 1862, staying with his wife and family at a relative’s home in Corsicana.
Once in the area, Lea learned that the Union vessel Harriet Lane on which he believed his son was serving, had been occupying the harbor of Galveston since the Union captured and occupied the island earlier in October. Lea hurried to Houston to long-time friend General Magruder’s headquarters, where he learned that a plan to recapture Galveston Island would be executed within a week.
During the pre-dawn hours of January 1, 1863, Lea helped to move six brass cannons of Captain M. McMahon’s battery across Galveston Island’s rail causeway. Afterward, Colonel Forshey posted Colonel Lea in one of the town’s tallest buildings near Broadway (some reports suggest a church, others Ashton villa) to observe and report the status of the attack.
A severe battle ensued, during which the Westfield, which had run aground off Pelican Spit, was blown up, and the Confederate gunboat Bayou City rammed the Harriet Lane near the wheelhouse, which allowed the Confederate troops to overrun the vessel. The remainder of the Union fleet fled to New Orleans, leaving three companies of the 42nd Massachusetts infantry on Kuhn’s Wharf to surrender. The rebels had retaken the city at a cost that was yet to be seen.
Colonel Lea rushed to Kuhn’s Wharf waterfront near where the battle had taken place. Once granted permission to board the Harriet Lane, he learned that her Union commander, Captain Wainwright, was dead and Lieutenant Commander Edward Lea, the executive officer, had been shot through the stomach.
Making his way through the soldiers pillaging the ship, Lea found his son lying in the cockpit, surrounded by dead and dying comrades.
Dr. Penrose, who was operating on a wounded man, handed Colonel Lea a flask of brandy for his son to sip, telling the grief-stricken father that the wound was mortal.
Cradling the young officer’s head, Colonel Lea said, “Edward, this is your father.”
“Yes father, I know you,” the young man whispered in return, “but I cannot move.”
In a desperate attempt to change fate, the Colonel went ashore to arrange for his son to be moved to the Sisters of Charity Hospital. After relating the events to General Magruder, whom he met along the way, Magruder offered his private quarters for his friend’s son.
While his father was absent, the lieutenant was told that his death was near and was asked if he had any last wishes. With his last breath, Edward replied, “No, my father is here.”
When Albert Lea returned, his brave son was dead. The next day an elaborate funeral procession that included Confederate and Union officers, sympathetic local citizens, a drum corps of prisoners from the battle and a group of Masons in full regalia solemnly carried
Lieutenant Lea and Captain Wainwright from Magruder’s headquarters to a service at the Episcopal Church. Colonel Albert Lea himself delivered the eulogy before the two men were buried with full military honors in a common grave, donated by local business leader W. Grover.
The fair city of Galveston had witnessed the true horror of Civil War violence on a personal level.
In 1866, the body of Captain Wainwright was reinterred with honors at the Naval Cemetery in Annapolis, Maryland.
A wealthy relative offered to rebury Edward Lea’s remains beside those of his mother in Green Mount Cemetery in Baltimore, but
Albert Lea refused. He said he felt it was more fitting for his son to rest where he fell “in sight of the sea and in sound of the surf.”
Albert Lea remained in Corsicana, where he experienced several reversals of fortune in the cotton trade. On the morning of January 16, 1891, Lea died of heart failure sitting alone in his bedroom. He is buried in Oakwood Cemetery in Corsicana.
Ironically, the Harriet Lane itself sustained little damage in the battle, and it visited Galveston as a cargo ship under the name Eliot Ritchie for years to come.
Of all who fought and died on the Harriet Lane’s decks only Lieutenant Lea remains in Galveston. A weathered sculpture of an anchor and binoculars lay on top of a stone that poignantly echoes his last words, “My father is here.”
To see photos from the 2018 re-enactment of the Lea-Wainwright funeral in Galveston, visit:
On New Year’s Eve 1895, the Misses Caroline, Fannie and Josephine Kenison gave a cotillion for their young friends in this beautiful home at 1120 Tremont in Galveston. It was the home of their parents Alphonse and Ellen, originally from Louisiana.
The lower floor of the residence was prepared for the occasion by stretching canvas over the spacious double parlor floors, and then taking up the carpet in the library and waxing the floors to create a dance floor.
One can only imagine the other preparations that took place!
At exactly 11:59 the young celebrants gathered underneath the chandelier and gave six cheers for the parting year. When the minute had passed, six cheers welcomed the new year.
The house was filled even on non-social days, with a large family. Alphonse, the father; Ellen, the mother; daughters Josephine, Frances, Caroline and Lucie; son Alphonse Jr.; Lucy Sydnor, a boarder; Josephine Settle, Mrs. Kenison’s mother; and servant Belle Washington and her young daughter Hazel.
Alphonse was one of the first general insurance agents int he state of Texas. He and his wife lost two sons, Maximiliem and Wartelle, in infancy, but the rest of their children thrived.
Josephine “Josie” (1878-1957) eventually became Mrs. Clinton G. Wells, and remained on the island for the rest of her life, passing away in 1957. She had one son, named Clinton III, born in 1906. She is buried in Trinity Episcopal Cemetery. One wonders if she regaled her son with stories about the homes in her home when she was a young girl.
From the 1910 census on, Josephine and her son lived with her parents. Her status on the records is listed as being a widow, her husband having passed away in 1908.
Francis (1879-1968), known as “Fanny” to her family, married William Penn White, moving first to New York and then to New Jersey. They had three daughters.
Caroline, called “Caro” by her family was born in 1879. She can be found listed in the society pages through the 1910s attending parties and volunteering in the community.
Alphonse Jr. (1881-1934) married multiple times, and had two children.
Lucie (1886-1973) married Herman Bornefeld in 1914, with whom she had a son and daughter.
Graves of members of the family can be found in Old City, Old Catholic and Trinity Episcopal Cemeteries in Galveston.
The Grand Opera House in Galveston was the site of festive “box parties” on Dec. 31, 1912.
A box party occurred when a host or hostess purchased tickets to an entire box at a theatre, and then invited their guests for a special afternoon or evening of entertainment.
Miss Mary Moody was presented with a box to the matinee performance of the play “The Trail of the Lonesome Pine” by Miss Charlotte Walker, a famous Galvestonian who was appearing in the production.
The play had opened the previous January in New York at the New Amsterdam Theatre on Broadway. Walker also appeared in the silent film version in 1916.
Mary’s guests were the Misses Allen, Phyllis Walthew, Anna Mosle, Libbie Moody and Ethel Sykes.
At the evening performance of the play, Mr. and Mrs. Lewis Archer Robertson hosted their own box party with Miss Margaret Robertson, Miss Eileen Allen, Miss Jane Alvey, Miss Winifred Allen, Mr. Fred Austin of Houston, Mr. Charles E. Witherspoon, Mr. Gus I. Arnold, and Mr. Earnest G. Diehl of Cincinnati, Ohio.
This group was especially fortunate, proceeding from the play to the “watch party” (to await the New Year) at the fabulous Hotel Galvez.
I was thrilled this weekend to find a grave marker for a member of the Mosaic Templars of America, in Marshall, Texas.
The Mosaic Templars of America was an African American fraternal organization founded in Little Rock, Arkansas in 1882 and incorporated in 1883 by two former slaves, John E. Bush and Chester W. Keatts.
The organization was established to provide important services such as burial insurance and life insurance to the African American community. Like many fraternal organizations, the Mosaic Templars’ burial insurance policies covered funeral expenses for members, both men and women, who maintained monthly dues.
By 1913, the burial insurance policy also included a Vermont marble marker. These markers are still found in cemeteries across Arkansas and other states. As membership grew, the Mosaic Templars expanded its operations to include a newspaper, hospital, and building and loan association. The organization attracted thousands of members and built a complex of three buildings at the corner of West Ninth Street and Broadway in Little Rock, Arkansas. The National Grand Temple, the Annex, and the State Temple were completed in 1913, 1918 and 1921, respectively.
A blank Mosaic Templars of America [MTA] Monument Claim Form. In order for a deceased MTA member to receive an MTA marker, local chapter officers had to complete and sign the monument claim form to verify that the deceased MTA member had paid all dues and fees, and confirm that the deceased was a member in good standing. They also had to submit the member’s information that was to be placed on the marker, and had to provide a delivery address for the completed marker.
According to their official 1924 history, the MTA authorized a Monument Department as early as 1911 to provide markers to its deceased members. Operations were managed by the state jurisdictions until 1914, when the MTA created a national Monument Department to centralize operations and cut costs. Members paid an annual tax to finance the department, and were promised a marble marker.
A traditional MTA marker had a rounded and forward-sloping top, with the MTA symbol cut into the top center. The name of the deceased member was carved below the symbol, with dates of birth (if known) and death. The name of the local chapter, the chapter number and the city where the chapter was located could be found on the bottom. MTA markers issued by the Modern Mosaic Templars of America appear exactly as the MTA markers except with the word “Modern” carved just above the MTA logo. The dimensions of the markers generally measured twenty-five to twenty-nine inches in height, fifteen to seventeen inches in width, and three to five inches in depth.
The name of the organization, taken from the Biblical figure Moses who emancipated Hebrew slaves, elected the Templars ideals of love, charity, protection, and brotherhood. The organization was originally called “The Order of Moses,” but the founders revised the name to “Mosaic Templars of America” in 1883 during the incorporation process. Modeled after the United States government, the organization consisted of an executive branch, a legislative branch, and even a judicial branch.
The organization struggled to regain its status, but by the end of the decade it had ceased operations in Arkansas.
But I want to also share a bit about Amy since it is her grave marker, after all.
She was born in Tennessee in 1864, to Abner Dollis and Celia Bloodsworth Dollis.
By the time she was 25, in 1860, she was working as a live-in cook in the home of Sheriff William Poland and his family.
Just ten years later she had married, and was the widow of, “John” whose last name was not listed in the city directory. She had a two-year -old daughter named Cely, who was obviously named for Amy’s mother.
By 1912 she supported her daughter by working as a “washerwoman,” and lived at 805 Riptoe Street in Marshall, where only a couple of older homes still stand.
Her death certificate lists her father as Abner Dollis, and her cause of death by apoplexy (the term commonly used for a stroke).
Her daughter Pearl (this was possibly a middle name for Cely), a public school teacher, married Rufus Brown. In 1910, the couple was living with Amy in her home.
Amy died of apoplexy (a term commonly used for stroke), in 1928.
Amy Dollis’ marker, the one I spotted in Marshall, is not in the database being created by the curator of the Mosaic Templars Cultural Center at this time, so I was thrilled to be able to share the find with them.