Being Amber Rhea

I was looking through my photos on Flickr trying to find one to crop for a submission to the 2008 Blogger Boobie-Thon (I decided to go with this one) and I came across my photoset from our December 2007 trip to Columbia, SC and remembered how happy I was then.*

I was talking to someone recently (can’t remember who) and telling them how happy and at-home I felt in Columbia - but that realistically I probably wouldn’t want to live there. But I just feel a deep connection with the place - probably because of all the family history there.

Btw, my grandmother found an old photo of the family home at 1429 Laurel St., hiding in a random dresser drawer! There’s no date on it and it’s damaged in two corners; I’m going to take it to Myott Studio next week to be framed in archival glass so it can be well-preserved and put on display, not hidden away in a drawer.

Now, back to trying to write a post about all this business; I’ve been having such trouble finding the right words.

* Not to imply that I’m unhappy now! Just that I have really good memories of that trip, it was a really great time, and something about it felt very special.

With my impending trip to Baltimore, I thought it would be a good time to post an essay that my grandmother wrote when she was 18 years old.

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The Ship Christening -

January 9, 1943

[written March 21, 1944, at Converse College]

Those who have not had the experience of christening a ship and watching it glide smoothly into the water, can not fully comprehend the thrill of such a beautiful sight. It was not until a year ago last January that I was fortunate enough to have the honor launching a “liberty ship” in Baltimore.

It was a late day in December when I was informed that I had been chosen sponsor of a new cargo-carrier to be named the “James Woodrow”. Just at the thought of being sponsor at a christening made me almost completely delirious with joy. I had seen many pictures and movies of women who had launched ships, but had never dreamed such a thing would happen to me.

Through the remaining days of December everything was centered around the christening. Mother and I spent much of our time shopping for new clothes. We simply had to look our best on such an occasion.

The 9th of January arrived, bringing with it the eventful day. Since the time of the launching was scheduled for 3:45 that afternoon, my family and a few friends and I left on the 2:00 train bound for Baltimore. I was becoming quite excited by that time, and the train wheels seemed to say in a monotonous tone “It won’t be long now”.

At our arrival in Baltimore, we were met by representatives of the Shipbuilding Company and taken in a custom built car to the shipyard. I thought, as we practically flew through town, that in less than 30 minutes I would be cracking a bottle over the bow of a “liberty ship”.

As long as I live, I shall never forget the feelings I had when I walked up those long, steep steps to the platform. Millions of eyes followed my every move, and I was almost trembling with mingled emotions.

Cameramen were there with their flashing bulbs waiting to take pictures of me, which made me feel like an important actress before an admiring audience.

The time had come! It was just a matter of minutes before the ship would be in the water.

Was I going to have good luck? Would I break the champagne bottle at my first swing or would I miss? One of the men stood by me counting the seconds, as the blocks were being cut from beneath the huge ship. Then, I heard the fateful cry “now”, and I swung the bottle easily at the hull sending a spray of champagne into the cold air. At the same moment, the ship slid down the ways, gracefully into the bay. The manner in which it hit the water was the most magnificent scene I have ever beheld. I was so happy that the boat had been christened successfully, because the sailors are very superstitious, and it is considered bad luck if a ship is not launched properly. Another ship had been sent to war, and I had helped in sending it on its mission.

—

How neat is that?

I definitely plan on visiting the harbor while in Baltimore. Jenny informs me (by way of her roommate, I assume) that Fell’s Point is the place to go. I wonder where exactly the Liberty ships were built, though, and if I could go there? I should try to find out.

Opal ring,
originally uploaded by Amber Rhea.

This weekend when I was in Augusta, my grandmother gave me this ring. It belonged to Helen Woodrow Bones, a.k.a. "Cousin Helen" in my family. She was the personal secretary of Ellen Axson Wilson (Woodrow Wilson’s first wife). After Ellen’s death, Helen continued to live at the White House for some time as a secretary to Woodrow Wilson.

The ring is an opal and two diamonds. Opal is the birthstone of October. Both Helen and I were born in October.

I took this photo with my camera phone this morning; I’ll take a better photo soon.

Read more about the Bones family here. If (when) Rusty and I ever take a trip to Rome, we definitely need to stay at the Bones House Inn!

I bet you thought I’d forgotten about this! But I didn’t, and now it’s time for the dramatic conclusion of the full-page story about Gin-Gin’s 100th birthday in 1967.

(If you’re wondering what this is all about, start from the beginning: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4.)

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Vivid Memories

From her vantage point of years, Mrs. Foard looks back to a Columbia when “the simplicity of entertainment for youth was perfectly remarkable”—with music and singing around the piano, especially on Sunday nights when girls and beaux would gather. “It was desired that entertainment should be at home.”

Then there was the famous Christmas night “open house” at the McMaster home—”customary for over 50 years, omitting one year for death in the neighborhood.”

And the regular family prayers each morning: “Whenever Father was away, Grandma would take his place in leading the prayers.

“She would always pray, ‘O Lord, keep me from vanity and lies,’ and I would think to myself, ‘I’m not vain and I don’t tell stories’ but, my dear, that has been the greatest prayer of my life—for vanity can be anything, and lies can be everything.”

Thoughts on Today

Miss Ginny Lee also judges that “there will always be different classes into which people fall—Christianity, education, culture, experience—make differences that can’t be changed to save your life.”

And when asked for her thoughts on the 20th century, she said, “The devil is let loose in the world today—it goes right back to the Christian home, or the lack of one. But on the other hand, there has never been a time in the history of the world that so much has been given and done and planned for the elevation of mankind.”

Through her own “giving” and “doing,” the spirit of this courageous, indomitable—yet charmingly gracious—South Carolina lady has brightened the world and added to mankind’s elevation.

Cause, indeed, for rejoicing and thanksgiving that the century of her living has come full circle, and that God’s gift of life to his child Virginia Lee has been a long one, blessed with beauty.

—

This isn’t the end of my reporting of the McMaster family story, though. Much to my excitement, I recently received a letter from Jay McKay (to whom I had written in January) and he provided a lot of other interesting tidbits about the family. I’ll scan his letter and the additional info he enclosed and post it soon; there are some really interesting, funny McMaster anecdotes. I’m also going to write him back; isn’t it scandalous, the thought of having an actual pen-pal, with whom I exchange letters via snail mail, in the 21st century. ;)

Note: If you’re wondering what this is all about, start from the beginning: part 1, part 2, part 3.

I’m doing two sections this time because one of them is so short.

—

Close Family

In the closely-knit McMaster family — unbroken by any death for more than 32 years — there were 14 children, or whom Virginia Lee was the 10th.

Older sisters and brothers were Mary Elliot, Catherine McGregor, Rachel Buchanan (later Mrs. Douglas Mckay, grandmother of Columbia’s present Douglas McKay), Fitz William Jr., Helen Graham, James Macfie, John, Thornwell and Agnes Rice, one of Columbia’s great and most beloved long-time teachers.

After Virginia Lee came George Hunter, Benjamin Palmer, Samuel Buchanan (”Buck,” who operated the famous sporting goods store in Columbia and also was owner of the noted Good Will plantation) and the youngest, Porter Alexander.

A Full Life

Today, Virginia Lee is the last of them. And the 100 candles that blazed in her honor at Saturday’s “open house” at the old family home signified a life that has been full:

—As the nurse who gave 12 years of active service in Baltimore, Md.

—As the Red Cross volunteer over 50, beyond the age for active nursing duty, who paid her own expenses to serve in France with 25 special volunteers requested by the U.S. Government during World War I.

—As the wife and mother whose only child, a son, died in infancy and whose husband was buried on the second anniversary of their marriage.

—As the compassionate woman working with Columbia’s Society of Orphan and Destitute Female Children, and the King’s Daughters, which organized the Columbia Hospital Association in 1892. (”Because of that,” she laughs, “I’m written down in black and white as one of the founders of the Columbia Hospital. That was one of the wonderful things that happen in life—when a little spark starts a big fire.”)

—As a long-time, loyal member of Columbia’s First Presbyterian Church whose records show her baptism there on April 25, 1868.

—And as a vital human being whose zest for life has kept her so active and interested in the world that, even in her 98th year, there was the energy to enjoy a shuttlebus ride on The Carolina Queen, and even to go to the movies. She likes “The Sound of Music” so well she saw it twice!

—

Gin-Gin’s wedding photo, from the article:

There will be either one or two more installments, depending on how I decide to break things up!

Note: If you’re wondering what this is all about, start from the beginning: part 1, part 2.

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Became a Nurse

When she grew older, Virginia Lee’s sense of duty and desire to use her talents constructively took her away from the family home to Johns Hopkins University; and there she graduated in the institution’s fourth class of nursing in 1896.

“Those were hard times and I felt I had to make a living,” explains Miss Virginia Lee, “so I went off to be a nurse. And such a commotion it caused! Friends of my mother’s, among them the Misses Hampton Sr., came to see her and begged her not to let me go.

“You see, their niece — Caroline Hampton, who later married Dr. Halsted, one of the greatest surgeons of the day — was at that time a graduate nurse of Johns Hopkins and they told my mother all the hard things involved in nursing.”

Thirty-four years were to pass before she returned to take up her life once again in the tall tree-shaded McMaster home in Columbia.

—

Here’s a photo (from the same article) of Gin-Gin as a nurse during World War I:

Also, a few months ago, I blogged a letter Gin-Gin wrote in the fall of 1918, when she was serving in France. (Side note: I think I was using the word “matriarch” incorrectly in that and other older posts. If anyone was truly a matriarch in the family, it was Mary Jane Macfie McMaster, who had 14 children!)

Stay tuned for part 4, to be posted soon.

Read part 1 here.

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A Merry Heart

From babyhood, she grew a merry heart, keyed to the sounds of laughter through the hospitable halls of the home, whose first quarter century weathered Sherman’s burning of Columbia and the years of Reconstruction which taught that poverty need not breed despair.

From childhood, she built a firm faith centered through the family’s religion-centered life that began each day with prayers and hymns in the parlor of the home.

And now, every Sunday at twilight, there is hymn-singing for Miss Ginny, her nurse and the niece who lives with her, Mrs. A. Wadley Kirkland. She still remembers the words, too, but she personalizes them on occasion: “God will take care of ME,” she sang just last Sunday!

In girlhood, she developed a keen mind and a searching spirit sparked by talk of education from the cultured and distinguished gentlemen — judges, lawyers, doctors, preachers — who were frequent guests in the house and who joined Col. McMaster in the battle to bring about public schools and education for the masses.

(Chairman of Columbia’s first Board of School Commissioners, Col. McMaster was called the “Father of Columbia Schools,” and the old McMaster School, now McMaster College of the University of South Carolina, was named for him.)

—

Here’s a photo of Col. Fitz William McMaster, taken sometime in the late 1800s:

And here’s a photo of Gin-Gin, taken in 1958 when she was 91 years old:

Part 3 will be posted soon!

I don’t think I’ve mentioned it here yet, but when Rusty and I were in Augusta for Christmas, I hit something of a jackpot in my quest for information about the fabled McMaster home in Columbia. Full credit goes to my mom, who for the hell of it decided to get out a box of stuff that was in the hall closet; and among the interesting artifacts in the box was a full page newspaper article about Gin-Gin’s 100th birthday in 1967 (which my mom and Gran went to). This is fascinating enough on its own, but the article also contains a photo of the house at 1429 Laurel St. (!) and some information about its origins.

(Can you believe it was torn down for a parking lot? Shades of Joni Mitchell…)

On Flickr, I’ve posted a photo of the entire article (it was too long/wide to scan). I’ve decided to post the text of the article in a series of blog posts, each one following the section breaks that are in the article itself. The article was written by “Social Whirl Writer” Christie Fant and appeared in The State and The Columbia Record on September 17, 1967. Here’s the first part:

—

A century is a long time — an unbelievably long time — for one life to last.

But when the life has been as bouyant and brimful as that of Columbian Virginia Lee McMaster (Mrs. Joseph R.) Foard, the abundance of years granted is cause for thankfulness and rejoicing.

And so, there was rejoicing on Saturday, the day that rounded out a full century of living for Mrs. Foard, a milestone passed, a capstone attained, in the very place where it had all begun — same city, same house, same room.

From many places came the members of the McMaster clan for the 100th birthday of this McMaster daughter. And they gathered for the birthday merrymaking in the old family home where Mrs. Foard lives, a house which has merrymaking and hospitality as part of its history.

The tall yellow residence stands at the northwest corner of Bull and Laurel Streets, built in 1853 by Virginia Lee’s father, Fitz William McMaster (later to become Col. McMaster of the 17th S.C. Volunteers, CSA) and his wife, Mary Jane Macfie.

Virginia Lee was born in the upstairs room where she now spends most of her days.

—

Stay tuned for the next installment! And in the meantime, I’m still on a mission to find out exactly what happened with the house in the 1970s. Thanks to Gran, I now have the address of a relative in Columbia who will probably have lots of information. So stay tuned for that, too.

After work today, Rusty and I will be heading to Augusta, where we’ll be staying overnight. Then tomorrow morning, we’re heading to Columbia, SC, to continue my hunt for family history (as previously described), take photos of the city, and just relax.

We’ll be in Columbia until Saturday. We’ll probably record a podcast while we’re there; we actually have topics ready for two separate podcasts: one talkie, and one movie review podcast. It’s also likely that I’ll finish Bob Jensen’s book tonight (only a few more excruciating pages to go) and write some sort of book review.

Maybe it will rain in Atlanta while we’re gone.

My Mom has been using The Google - and using it better than I have, apparently! She found this letter written by Virginia McMaster Foard, a.k.a. Gin-Gin, the McMaster family matriarch who lived to be 102 and whom we suspect was the last owner of the family house in Columbia.

Many nurses developed a closeness to the servicemen they cared for, be they American or otherwise. Nurses spoke of the soldiers’ spirit and valor, like Virginia McMaster Foard, 1896, a Red Cross nurse in France, U.S. Base No. 1, Bellevue Unit during World War I. She wrote this in the fall of 1918.

I have been so desperately busy since coming here I have not written a letter, I am what is called a hospital teacher. I answer inquiries, etherize severely sick, wounded, or gassed soldiers and, incidentally, do all I can for anybody, such as giving flowers, fruits, “smokes” and try to ease home troubles of any nature. I visit the desperately ill, and if a long illness, write once a week to family; in case of death write to nearest of kin…

The English soldier has a smile that will not come off when he gets to an American hospital. Our men are fine. The harder they are hurt the more cheerful they are. They all get the grumps when they are neither sick nor well, but that is perfectly natural. Convalescence is a hard period, and when they get away from battle they do not think restrictions are necessary, showing a national lack of discipline. I talk to them like they were bad boys, give them a good scolding, or laugh at them. I feel so helpless, so futile, such an appalling job. I simply can cast myself on God’s mercy and ask Him to use me each day. I believe I am helping. The boys like me and often I am told I am like their mothers or aunties. You need all the tact of a woman of the world, a never failing good cheer and good humor.

Death seems so close, it certainly is “swallowed up in victory”. Immortality does not seem vague to these dear boys.

Fascinating!

My mom also found this after Googling “Katherine McGregor McMaster.” She was my great-great-grandmother and was known to the family as “Mama.” (I guess that makes her a matriarch, too!) She took her three children back to the house in Columbia to live after her husband, James Woodrow, Jr., died at a young age. Interestingly, according to rootsweb the address of the house was listed as 1427 Laurel Street in 1900. There’s some other info there that might be helpful to me when I go back to Columbia in December!

Also, Mama’s daughter, Katherine Hamilton Woodrow, is the one I may have mentioned a while back, who lived in Decatur in the 1940s. Eventually I’ll get back to trying to track down her old house.

I bought some new stationery the other day. Yes, I’m talking about actual paper, for writing actual letters. I’m going to write a letter to Gran asking for some family history details, and I’m going to include a print-out of this letter, hopefully to motivate her. She knows so much, and unfortunately, one day she will be gone and that information will be gone too, unless someone records it. And that someone is me! I might even do a podcast with her, although I think she might be gunshy. You never know, though! I think I’ll spring the concept on her at Christmas.

Here are some photos (because I couldn’t find the AC adapter for my scanner) of documents I tracked down at the courthouse in Columbia. I realize this might be interesting to no one but me, but I’m okay with that. Click through to Flickr for larger versions of all.

Property card from the tax assessor’s office (where, I might add, the woman working there was very rude to me!):
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In my wrap-up post about our road trip, I mentioned doing research on family history. So here’s what that’s about.

I’ve heard references over the years to “the house in Columbia” - most often from my grandmother, and sometimes from my mom. And while reminiscing and/or telling a story for the umpteenth time, sometimes Gran would exclaim, “I know I have a picture of that house! I wish I could find it!” (So far, she hasn’t.)

I don’t remember when exactly I became more than passively interested in this house. I’ve always enjoyed the feel of old buildings; and as long as I’ve known that the field existed, I’ve been interested in historic preservation. So, years and years ago I asked what happened to the house, and when Gran and/or Mom said it had been torn down, I accepted it with a sigh and chalked it up to another casualty of so-called “urban renewal.”

There was never anything more than that to the story, and I never thought much about it. But recently I’ve become determined to piece together the missing years between 1969 and today. It was during those years, of course, that the house met its sad fate.
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Saturday before I left Augusta, I visited my grandmother. She told me that my great-great-aunt Katherine lived in Decatur for a while, and she (Gran) visited Katherine there in the early 1940s. She remembered downtown Decatur and the square, and venturing into Atlanta to eat at The Varsity. I pressed her for any more details, such as where Katherine lived; but all she could remember was that she lived in “a cute little white house on a nice street,” and it was “not too far” from downtown.

So, now I am determined to find out where she lived, and photograph the house if it’s still standing (kind of like how I photographed the house where my grandmother grew up, and her elementary school).

The only info I have is her name, her husband’s name, the fact that her husband had 7 children (from a previous marriage), and that she lived in Decatur in the 40s, before moving to Florida. A Google search turned up nothing, but I didn’t really expect it to. Does anyone have any ideas of how I can track down my great-great-aunt’s whereabouts ~60 years ago? I’m thinking there must be records and such at the courthouse, but where to start…?

Other, unrelated items:

• I think my car is leaking coolant again. This after dropping a few hundred dollars on it last week for new brake pads and rotors, ghatdammit.
• Next week, I attempt taking MARTA to work. East/West line to Georgia State, then transfer to the #1 bus… here’s hoping I don’t miss the 8:15 bus.
• Chick-Fil-A fruit cups now come with strawberries. Yippee!
• Last night’s podcast party was a rousing success. Photos to come.

As promised — I finally took my scanner out of the box and set it up tonight, and I scanned several old pictures that I brought back from Augusta a few months ago, which were taken by my grandfather during World War II (well, he didn’t take all of them, because he’s in some of them, but…) He was quite the photographer and was very organized; all the pictures are numbered (but, unfortunately, not labeled as to where or what they are) and correspond with the numbers on the negatives, which are filed in a little wodden box. How many people can say they have 60-year-old negatives?? I’m really excited about it, because this way I can get copies of the pictures that I want to use in a framed collage, and not feel guilty about cutting them to size.

These pictures are in great condition for their age; they have been well taken care of. However, I don’t think they should sit in an envelope for another few decades and collect dust; they’re too interesting not to be on display.

I do wish he had labeled them with even a short description, though; we have no frame of reference for a lot of them. We know he was in Italy and Northern Africa, but other than that, it’s mostly guesswork.

Oh yeah… here’s the link. Enjoy!

I have some really cool pictures from World War II that my grandfather took while serving in Italy and North Africa. He was quite the photographer. I have about 50 of them. Some are *very* interesting, like one of a Nazi graveyard. I plan to make some kind of collage or display with a lot of them, so they don’t spend another ~50 years sitting in a box. I also want to scan some of them and put them up in a .Mac photo album, but my stupid piece-of-crap scanner won’t cooperate. (I never should have sold my old scanner that worked perfectly. Curses!) Anyway, just a brief mention of things to come. In the meantime, here is a picture of me taken September 8th, 1984. Such a little lady.