Roosevelt State Park, Red Bugs and Southern Hospitality or Beauty and the Beasts!

 

For weeks before my visit to Georgia, I busily planned my trip to see the home of my great great great grandfather, Marshal Stevens. Through contacts I have made on the internet, I was certain the house was still standing and had the location pinpointed  to the exact distance I would have to travel to where the Stevens home is located.

For about 15 years, I have had a photograph of the Marshal Stevens family in my possession without knowing who they were. I was certain it was family, just uncertain as to exactly who the family was. Only last year did I discover my link to the Stevens family of Harris County, Georgia. Shortly after discovering my connection to the Stevens family, one of my first cousins sent a photo of my great grandfather William Marvin McCarter and his parents, one of whom was Frances Ozella Texas Stevens, daughter of Marshal.

My older sister was visiting my family in Ohio and happened to be looking through my 3-ring binder, which is filled with miscellaneous genealogy papers on a day when we had been looking at the photo of William Marvin McCarter and his parents. She came upon the  photograph of a large family and asked who they were. I told her I was unsure, that it had been given to me by a Foster family member who didn't know who was in the photo. She studied the photo for a while and then let out a WHOOP! Right there in that photo were William Marvin McCarter and his parents, Alexander H. McCarter and Frances Ozella Texas Stevens. I studied and studied the photo, trying my best to decide where it was taken and who the people in it were. After many long hours of studying the photo I decided it to very likely be the home of Marshal Stevens. I contacted another Stevens researcher who had access to photos from the book History of Harris County, Georgia, 1827-1961  by Barfield, Louise Calhoun (Mrs. G. C.) and she emailed a copy of a photo Marshal Stevens home to me. It was indeed the Marshal Stevens home!

On Sunday, a day after we celebrated my mother's 85th birthday, several of us loaded up our cars and took off for Pine Mountain. Our first stop was Roosevelt State Park. My older brother, who is familiar with the area, chose Dowdell's Knob for our picnic in the park. It was absolutely breathtaking and only heightened my anticipation. In a few short hours I would be standing on the very same ground on which my Great Great Great Grandfather, Great Great Great Grandmother, various cousins, aunts and uncles and the cherished William Marvin McCarter had stood. While standing on Dowdell's Knob we were looking at the very valley through which we would soon be driving. 

We had a simple but lovely picnic overlooking Pine Mountain Valley. Click on the thumbnail photos to see what we saw on top of Dowdell's Knob.

This Was His Georgia Historical Marker

Stone Grill  Reads...Franklin D. Roosevelt liked to picnic her

and he had this grill built. It was filled in to preserve it.

Dowdell's Knob  This is the view from Dowdell's Knob.

Great Great Great Grandson (and wife) of Marshal Stevens .

Great Great Great Great Grandson (my son) 

of Marshal Stevens at Dowdell's Knob.

The Picnic

Following our picnic, as we started down the mountain. I knew exactly where I was going. It was if I had been there a hundred times before. We made a right turn onto King's Gap Road and my hard skipped a beat. It would only be a few more miles until I would see the home of Marshal Stevens, the very home that was in the photograph that I had spent hours studying for clues. Nothing prepared me for what I was going to see next.

I expected it to need work; it is after all over 120 years old. I expected that it might need extensive work but I was not prepared for it to have been turned into a dumping ground. The only thought my mind could form was...it is still supposed to be in the family. How could anyone who was a part of the family have let it come to this? It broke my heart. I could better understand it if it were strangers...but family?

There was an enormous pick-up truck parked in the front yard of the house (note my creative angles for photographing around it, tee hee). We decided we should call the house before we started trespassing and were greeted by an answering machine. I left a detailed message explaining how far I had traveled and my purpose for being in the front yard, in hopes of someone picking the telephone up. No one did.  Just as I was disconnecting from the answering machine a man walked out onto the porch. My hopes soared...a new cousin! Someone who was living in the very house that Marshal and family had lived in, sleeping in possibly the very room he slept in.  

After asking if he was the man I knew to be living in the house, I shouted out to him who we were and what we were doing there. He said the man who lived there was his father and quite frankly that was about all the conversation we got out of him. I told him we were likely related from very far back (turns out he is more than likely my fourth cousin)  and that all we wanted was to take a picture of the house. He said we could and went on about his business.

My older brother who was with us has never met an enemy. Everyone loves him. He is just that kind of guy, a good old born and bred southern man. Everyone he meets is his friend, but not this cousin. My brother tried, made small talk...but this newfound cousin did not reciprocate. The others in my party were my 20 year old son, who was still in the car so I know it wasn't his northern accent or facial jewelry who scared the guy; my sister-in-law who is as harmless as a fly...(note, I didn't say harmless as a red bug); my 85 year old mother who came along for the adventure even though this was her ex-husband's ancestors. (She must have looked terribly threatening walking with her cane.); my older sister, who can easily carry on a 60 minute conversation with the neighbor's grocery delivery guy without catching her breath. Even she couldn't budge this new cousin. He traipsed straight by us and closed the door behind him.  I even pulled out the "Hey, I've got a really old picture you might like to see" card. Nope, that didn't work either. So we walked around the front yard and took a few pictures and I had my moment. Scarred as it was...I still took my moment.

I stood in front of the house, directly in front of the very porch steps on which numerous members of our family had gathered over 100 years ago for their family photograph. I tried to visualize them standing there on those steps. I tried to imagine Marshal's grandson William Marvin, who was still just a lad, running through the front yard. I imagined the chattering that must have gone on as the photographer tried to assemble this large group for a photo. Yes, I had my moment. I took it! I wasn't flying all the way from Ohio to Georgia and not have MY moment!

A MOMENT was all I got!

It was only a few minutes later when our newfound cousin decided to be even more welcoming and charming than he had been thus far. He suddenly found it necessary to walk out onto the front porch carrying a barrel from a machine gun. Yes, I said machine gun. He was only "cleaning" it, but his message was clear. It was time for us to leave. 

What a sad moment for me. I take great pride in my family history and have uncovered more information than anyone has ever known about our family. I have chosen this path, or it has chosen me. Never did I expect to be treated this way in such a warm and welcoming place as Georgia. Georgia is the place where strangers on the side of the road put their rakes down to smile and wave to you as you pass by and every car that you meet on a country road has a driver who lifts his hand from the steering wheel in a greeting. I am still baffled. We were harmless. If he didn't want us there all he needed to do was ask us to leave. 

He may have threatened me with his silly little machine gun, but he can never ever take back what I had already taken...my moment!