The 1880 Agricultural Schedule Sheds Light on William Graves

Years ago, I found digital copies of the 1880 Agricultural Schedule for my direct-line ancestors, William Graves and Lawson Lair in Peoria County, Illinois.¹  The headings of the schedules were impossible to read, and I wasn’t terribly sure how valuable any of the information would be, so I stashed them to deal with later.  Yesterday I decided to put the effort into seeing exactly what was on those schedules.

William Graves

I was able to find a document online with information on the agricultural schedule and blank forms for several years²; then began the work of going back and forth between the blank form and the schedule until I had extracted the information.  I repeated the process on the second schedule I’d downloaded for Lawson Lair – but discovered that William Graves was also listed on that schedule as well!  Princeville Township only had one William Graves during that time period, so I assumed he had a second farm somewhere in the township.  I was aware that William, through thrift and hard work, had given each of his children (including his daughters) their own 80 acre farm when they became adults.  I began looking at plat maps for various years, and looking at neighbors both on the plat maps and on the agriculture schedules to determine which schedule entry pertained to which of the farms he owned.

As it turns out, one schedule entry notes that William does not own this particular farm, but is leasing it for a share of the profits produced.  Looking at the other entries on the schedule and comparing them to neighbors listed on the plat maps for 1873 and 1896, I was able to determine the farm was located in Section 4 of Princeville Township, land that William owned in 1873 and his daughter Sarah A. Cox owned in 1896.  Sarah was married to Charles Cox in 1874, and may have been given that farm at that time, or at least prior to 1880.

1873 Plat map of Princeville Township, Peoria County, Illinois.  The red "X" in the upper left corner shows the location of land that would later belong to William's daughter Sarah; the green "X" toward the center shows the location of William's farm, with land he'd later give to Tom and Oscar; across the road, denoted by the purple "X" is the land that would later belong to Austin.

The second entry is a bit harder to explain.  Again, looking at those around him both on the schedule and on the various plat maps, this farm appears to be his personal farm.  William had purchased land that was clustered around his primary farm in the western half of section 2 and the eastern half of section 3.  On the earlier 1873 plat map, the section 2 land had been divided into two farms – one owned by his daughter, Martha Cox, and the other in his name.  Later that land would go to his son, Austin, who was just 3 at the time this map was created.  Across the road, in section 3, he owned a 240 acre farm, which would by 1896 have been divided into thirds – 80 acres for his son Oscar, 80 acres for his son Tom, and 80 acres for himself.  But this does not explain the findings on the 1880 agriculture schedule – William’s farm was described as 80 acres.  Twins Austin and Oscar would have been just 10 at the time of the schedule, and Tom would have been 18.  It is conceivable that Tom had gotten his farm by 1880, but unlikely that Austin and Oscar’s would have been in their names.  Perhaps these 240 acres of unaccounted-for land was rented out and appears on the schedule under the renter’s name.  Thus, William’s second appearance on the schedule with 80 acres of land would make sense.

William Graves' land, photo taken about 2007 by author.

Regarding the specifics of William’s farming, he tilled 79 of the 80 acres on Sarah’s farm, but only 30 of his own, keeping the remainder as meadow or pasture.  Each farm produced about $700 for the year in profits.   He kept horses, pigs, and chickens at both places, but also kept cattle on his own farm – 2 cows for milking and 16 others to sell or slaughter.   Butter was produced on his home farm – 150 pounds in 1879. 

Crops grown on both farms include Indian corn, oats, and Irish potatoes (as opposed to sweet potatoes).  100 bushels of apples were sold from the orchard on Sarah’s land, and 125 gallons of molasses were produced from there as well.

Besides an interesting snapshot of what a typical workday for William may have looked like, finding these two entries on the agriculture schedule really forced me to take a good look at William’s land ownership and how his land acquisitions were divided among his children, and when that may have occurred.

I have one question I wish I could ask William’s wife: Who really churned all that butter??

¹ Both these men were great-grandfathers of Bill Knutz Jr.  William Graves’ son Tom married Lawson Lair’s daughter Nettie, and they were Bill’s grandparents.

²https://www.census.gov/history/pdf/agcensusschedules.pdf

William Graves of NC, OH, IL

This blog post was inspired by Amy Johnson Crow 's "52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks" challenge.  Learn more at her blog.

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William and Rebecca (Stretch) Graves

William Graves and his wife Becky Stretch will always be special to me, though I never even came close to meeting them.  Back in the late 1990’s, when my interest in genealogy became re-kindled, it was with them that I began my research.  Bill Graves was born 20 Nov 1820 in Chatham county, North Carolina to John and Elizabeth (Freeman) Graves, the fourth of twelve children.  The following year, his family removed to Ross county, Ohio, where many of his father’s siblings had already gone.  There he married Ann Ratcliff, daughter of Simon and Rachel (Dixon) Ratcliff in 1842, on his 22nd birthday. In 1844, Bill’s brothers Thomas and James had sojourned to Stark county, Illinois to see if the grass was greener there.  It was, they determined, and sent for their parents and siblings.  As John and Elizabeth prepared for the trip by

covered wagon, John took ill and died.  Elizabeth painfully continued the preparations and continued westward.  Everyone went except Bill and Ann – Bill owned about 210 acres of land in Liberty township, nearby that of his father-in-law, Simon Ratcliff.  They continued on in Ross county with their children Simon, b. 1844; Martha Madaline, b. 1846; and Saran Ann, b. 1855.  Their third child, James Newton, lived less than a month and was buried at Friends Church Cemetery near Londonderry, Ohio.

Six months after the birth of her youngest child, Ann died, and was buried near her son.  Six months after her death, Bill married Rebecca Stretch, daughter of Thomas and Rebecca (Rains) Stretch, who had helped out with the children after Ann’s death.  About 1864, Bill, Becky, and their family set out to join the rest of Bill’s family in Illinois.  Simon and “Madaline,” as she was called, went with their father, and Sarah Ann (“Annie”) stayed behind to be raised by her maternal grandparents.  In addition to these two children, Bill and Becky’s family consisted of Cynthia (4) and Thomas (2),   They purchased a farm in Peoria county, Illinois, just across the border from Stark county, and there they prospered.  Their twin sons, Oscar and Austin, were born in 1870.  Bill eventually had purchased enough land to give each of his children, including the girls, an 80-acre farm. 

William apparently retired at a fairly early age, as the younger children didn’t remember him working.  According to his granddaughter, Myrtis, William never hurried at anything, and was an easy going man.  He “made it a point to be out at the gate when he saw a wagon coming, which in those days of slow driving was not hard to do,” she said.  He always went to bed before dark, never smoked, drank, or kept late hours, and lived a long life to show for it.  He was also interested in his family’s history, and kept many of the birth and death dates in his Bible.  Though his people had been Quakers, Bill never professed any certain religion himself, and saw no need to “pay a preacher to tell people how to live.”  This perturbed his wife to no end, having been brought up in a church-going home, and the daughter of a choir-master.  He did, however, insist that his children attend Sunday school.

Eventually their children grew up and left home – Simon sold his farm to younger brother Oscar and went to Nebraska; Madaline married Monroe Cox of Stark county; Annie married Monroe’s brother Charles Cox, also of Stark county; Cynthia married David Evans of Peoria County; Thomas also sold his farm to his brother Oscar and moved to South Dakota; and Austin did likewise, settling in Minnesota.  Oscar’s descendants continued on the farm, with his grandson still owning it as of at least 2008, making it eligible for designation as a “Centennial Farm”".”

Rebecca suffered a fall, breaking her thigh bone, and died a month later, the official cause of death being tuberculosis.  She passed away on 26 May, 1905 at the home of her daughter Cynthia.  Bill then lived with his son Austin at Stringtown, just across the border in Stark county, where he died on 16 Jun 1908.  Both Bill and Becky are buried at Sheets Cemetery in Stark county. 

Many of us have one - an ancestor who was a stinker, put quite frankly.  And this can be quite a can of worms when writing and documenting our family histories.

I descend from William Nickerson, a fellow who gave the colonial government quite a run for their money back in the 1600s, and was well-documented for it.   There are amply written, unbiased sources documenting his behaviors and punishments, and it's a part of who he was.  He poses no problem for me in writing the family history - he was a character, and his own person, and no one is likely to be offended by what I write about him.

Then there's Aunt L.  She's not so far back in history, having departed this life not quite 30 years ago.  Many in the family still remember her.  She left no descendants that might be more easily offended than the rest of us.  But still, how exactly do I handle her in the family history?

She was my grandfather's aunt, and out of his own mouth come the memories of her locking he and is brothers in a dark closet and terrorizing them, and calling them names, because she hated their father.   Or all of the Christmases that the girls got gifts and the boys got nothing. One of her nieces has less than fond memories of her as well, saying that she tried to cheat their mother out of anything that she could, be it family heirlooms, inheritance, or their brother's insurance money.

My own memories are much tamer, but then, Auntie was quite a bit older by the time I knew her.  Once a year, at Christmas, we would gather at her house for a Christmas dessert and open small gifts.  She got out the family china, and spent time trying to tell us about her father and mother, and trying to show a largely (unfortunately) uninterested bunch of people about the family history.  No one, including me, seemed to care at the time.  Under that tame exterior, though, still lurked the same anger and temper that she had as a young woman.

After a bad fall, she ended up having to go into a nursing home.  She was furious.  And it was my grandfather, the same little boy she terrorized as a child, who looked after her.  He and my grandmother went to her house those last few years she lived there, and mowed the lawn, took her shopping, helped her clean, and visited with her... and in the nursing home, they went out twice a week to see her.   One particular week, they took me with them.  I was standing in the doorway when Auntie L., in a fit of rage, suddenly kicked her trash can violently out into the hallway. Two older gentlemen with walkers were approaching when the projectile shot out of her room, ricocheted on the opposite wall and came to rest in the middle of the hall.  Without missing a beat, one of them said, "Well, looks like another one kicked the bucket!"  Nursing home humor... not a great situation, but it has ended up being one of my favorite memories of Aunt L.  It was so very... her.

So, do we try to leave future generations with positive impressions of their departed family members, or do we do our best to capture them as they were, warts and all?  Should the wishes of other family members be taken into consideration, and if so, to what extent?  Do we, as family historians, respect truth, or respect the dead?  Is there a way to to both?

Thoughts on the 1880 Agricultural Schedule

A year or two ago, I checked the 1880 Agricultural Census available at Ancestry.com for two of my Ancestors from Peoria County, Illinois: William Graves, and Lawson Lair.  While I was able to locate them and read their entries easily, the headings on the forms were nearly completely illegible – so much so that the data was meaningless.  I tried different scans from neighboring areas, and looked around the internet for a blank copy of this form, but to no avail.  I emailed Ancestry requesting a blank form, and received no answer.

Today, I tried again.  The scan has not changed in quality, unfortunately, and I still saw no link to a blank form at Ancestry.  Overall, I’m a happy Ancestry customer, but this major oversight for this database left me disappointed.  Data isn’t worth anything if you don’t know what it means.

However, eventually a Google search pointed me to a wealth of information on not only the 1880 Agricultural census, but others.  Blank forms were provided, as well as background information.  This information, in the form of a pdf, can be obtained at the government’s census website here.

The information provided by this enumeration gives a good “snapshot” of what life on the farm was like – at least during the year 1879.  Land ownership, or the nature of the rental agreement, is the first item to be addressed, progressing into how much land is both improved and unimproved.  Farm values are noted, as well as the worth of the implements and machinery owned by the farmer, so comparing to that of their neighbors, it was easy to get an idea of the financial standing of the farm relative to its neighbors. 

The details help forge a picture of the farm as it was then – was livestock raised, crops planted, or both?  Did the family keep milch cows?  Did they produce butter or cheese?   How many horses did they keep?  Did they keep poultry, and if so, how many eggs did they produce?  Sheep and Swine details were also given.

If crops were planted, what kind?  How many acres?  What was production like in that growing season?  These agricultural censuses will differ in what specific crop questions were asked, depending on region of the country.  Orchards, vineyards, and bee-keeping were also addressed.

Looking at the data for Lawson Lair, who was at the time 47 years old with a family of nine, owned an 80 acre farm just west of Princeville.  With farm values of his immediate neighbors ranging from $2,600 to $15,000, Lawson’s farm was toward the bottom at $3,200.  Interpreting this data isn’t always straightforward, however; other sources paint a different picture of Lawson, who owned property in the nearby town of Princeville, deriving a great deal of future income as a landlord.  He passed away with quite a tidy sum of money accumulated.  Had I not already known this, I might have been tempted to decide Lawson was financially compromised, based on the value of his farm.

Lawson had 4 milch cows and sold 450 gallons of milk in 1879; however, they didn’t make butter or cheese on the farm.  He had 45 head of swine, and 40 barnyard poultry which produced 125 dozen eggs over the previous year.  With his family of nine, this averages out to 3 eggs per person per week, which leads me to believe they produced eggs primarily for their own consumption. 

Regarding his crops, he grew Indian corn, potatoes, and sorghum, from which he produced 90 gallons of molasses – far more than his immediate neighbors who grew sorghum.


All in all, this was an interesting look at the 1879 picture of Lawson’s farm, and that part of his life.  The most significant piece of information I learned was that he was not as invested in his farm as I had imagined – he made his money from other means.  Previous farm schedules may paint a different picture.  Every little piece of the puzzle helps to put flesh on the bones. 

A Perfect Ending

Those of us who deal regularly with obituaries have probably seen it all - unexpected deaths, long-expected deaths, deaths that occurred suddenly in the course of everyday of life, and deaths from infections in the pre-antibiotic era, reminding us of how many times it could have been us.  We've seen young deaths and old deaths; from natural causes to murder and suicide.  Some deaths are memorable, and many are not.  But the one death that has stayed in my mind is that of John Wesley Graves.

John and Nannie (Biggs) Graves

His obituary is standard fare - 84 years old, prominent farmer, moved from his home in Stark county, Illinois to Madison county, Iowa, married Nannie, had children, etc.  But the best part of the story isn't found in the obituary.

It was Christmas Day, 1954.  John's niece, Zella and her family were on their way to her father's home for Christmas.  They stopped to deliver Christmas greetings to John and Nannie.  John and Nannie were not planning an early Christmas meal with their own family but were preparing to have a quiet lunch at home instead.  They were both feeling well and in good health.  After a short visit, Zella and her family continued on their way.

Later that afternoon while the family was opening presents, Zella took a phone call.  After all the presents had been opened and "thank yous" given, she told the family that after lunch, Uncle John had laid down to take a nap and had passed away quietly in his sleep.

I can't think of a better ending to life - a nice visit with loved ones, followed by a quiet meal at home with my beloved spouse, and then simply relaxing and closing my eyes, all with a lovely white, snowy, glittery and joyous Christmas Day backdrop.  A gentle drift into eternity.  Rest in peace, Uncle John Graves, and thank you for a wonderful story.

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Many thanks to cousin Gerald (and cousin William) for sharing not only family documents and photos, but priceless stories and memories such as these.  Cousins, no matter how distant, add a richness and fullness to our mutual histories that cannot be obtained anywhere else, and are a true blessing.

Treasure Chest Thursday – Collars from Long Ago

This note, written by my great-grandmother, Elvirta Knutz Graves, explains the significance of these collars she had tucked away.  The lace collar belonged to her mother, Nettie Lair Graves (1861 – 1935), and the fabric collar belong to Nettie’s grandmother, Margaret Coble Nickeson (ca 1803 – 1854).
Margaret Coble Nickeson, owner of the fabric collar, married her husband, Joseph Nickeson, in Franklin county, Ohio in 1819, and in the 1840s they relocated to Peoria county, Illinois with their children.  She died in 1854 at the age of 56 in Princeville.  Her daughter Margaret Nickeson married Lawson Lair in 1858.  They spent the rest of their lives in Princeville, Margaret passing away in 1900 at the age of 59.  Their second child was Nettie Lair, owner of the lace collar.  Nettie married Tom Graves in 1883 in Princeville, and they remained in that area until 1906, when they moved to Esmond, South Dakota.  Their daughter Elivrta married Will Knutz in 1910, in Huron, South Dakota.  The collars were eventually given to Virta’s daughter Mabel, who passed away last year.  I would like to thank my cousins for sending me these, and other, remarkable treasures that their mother had so carefully saved.  I am truly blessed and honored to have them.

Tombstone Tuesday – Tweed Cemetery

In the quiet landscape of southeastern Ross county, Ohio, sits Tweed cemetery.  Just outside of Vigo, it is nestled inside a grove of trees at the top of a hill, hard to find, I'm told, unless you know what you're looking for. 

I've never been to the cemetery, despite the significant number of my family that lay there.  The miles are too great for now.  But my “granny”, Elizabeth Freeman Graves, left such a large part of herself behind in the soil of the shady green hill.
The year 1832 began with the burial of her nearly 6 year old boy, Tavenor, in January.  Before the year was out, they would gather again in the cold December frost to bid goodbye to her mother, Sarah Toone Freeman.  Her 4 year old daughter, Martha, would be next, in May of 1841, and just 3 months later, seventeen year old son John Jr. would be laid to rest there.
Did Elizabeth and her husband John pay one more sad visit to the cemetery together before packing their trunks and loading their wagon for a new beginning in Illinois?  
How sad for Elizabeth to have to stand one very last time in the cemetery, this time at the fresh grave of her husband, who took ill once the packing and loading was done.  And how excruciating it must have been for her to turn and leave, and pursue this new life without him.
Some day, I'd like to go to Tweed cemetery, stand where she stood, see what she saw, and touch the part of her soul that she left behind there. 

Time to Say Goodbye

Sometimes you just know that someone has come into your life for a reason, and such is the case with Warren Throndson.  We are distant cousins, both of us obsessed with family history, and we lived in the same town for 8 years before accidentally discovering each other.  It could have easily gone the other way, both of us living out our lives and never knowing the other existed, but thank goodness it didn’t happen like that.
I was just starting my Graves research, actually beating my head against a brick wall, when I realized that the Graves men, typically named Thomas, John, and William, all lived in the same area and all had sons named Thomas, John and William.   The patriarch of the family, William Graves, himself a family historian, was said to have left a Bible with the family records behind when he passed on into eternity back in 1908, in Stark county, Illinois.  Desperate to find that Bible, and any help it might give me in sorting out these Graves men, I wrote the genealogy society there and inquired if anyone might know anything about it, thinking perhaps he left it to them after his death.  I got a letter back saying no, they knew nothing about any Bible.  A wasted stamp, I assumed, but it turned out to be the best 32 cents I ever spent.
As it turned out, another descendant had inquired about the William Graves family a few weeks earlier, a fellow named Larry from nearby Peoria county.  When the Society received my letter, they contacted Larry and gave him my address, in case he wanted to follow up.  He saw the town, and immediately thought of his uncle, Warren, who also lived here, and had done extensive research on the Graves family, with said William Graves being his great grandfather.  Before the day was out, Warren and I had the first of our many phone conversations.
Now, I have to say, in the last 15 years or so, Warren and I have only met face-to-face a handful of times, but we’ve logged hundreds of hours on the phone.  Usually, our conversations would be seasonal, as he wintered in Texas, and had a full social calendar there, but occasionally he’d make an exception - when our weather here would be especially frigid, he’d call to tell me how much he enjoyed the freshly picked fruit, from his yard, that he’d had for breakfast that morning.  Or he’d call on a Sunday night, to tell me to “have a good Monday” and keep paying into the retirement system so people like him could enjoy life!  He had a great sense of humor, and loved to tease.
But mostly, we talked about family – those currently in our lives, and those we researched.  While our official relationship was “second cousin twice removed,” I think it’s probably more accurate to say he was a treasured friend with whom I had history in common.  Plus, he was the only person I knew whose eyes would not glaze over when I got started talking about genealogy, and vice versa.
Warren passed into the land of ancestors himself last weekend.  I was blessed to have been able to see him three weeks’ prior, when I found myself at his home, and I knew it would be the last time I saw him.  I can still feel his hand squeezing mine as we said goodbye.  His contact information is still in my phone, and I think I’ll leave it there awhile.  I just wish I could see his name flash on the screen just once more while the phone was ringing.
Goodbye, Dear Friend, until we talk again…

Sentimental Sunday – Grandpa Tom’s Rocking Chair

I don't know how I was lucky enough to have ended up with Grandpa Tom's rocking chair - perhaps it was just a matter of having a baby at the right time.  I didn't even realize exactly what I was getting when they loaded this heavy, built-to-last chair into the back of the van and drove it 300 miles to my house.  All I knew is that my cheap, "some assembly required" rocking chair had broken, and I had a young child who missed it desperately.

I had seen the chair at my grandmother's house for as long as I could remember, in fact, I remember her re-upholstering the seat in the late 1960's.  I never thought a thing about its origins, until I was browsing through some old pictures of my great-grandparents' home, and there it was!  I assumed that after my great-grandmother, Virta,  passed away, my grandparents inherited it.  I asked my great aunt, Mabel, who was Virta's daughter, if she knew anything of it's origins, and she confirmed that it was Virta's father, Thomas L. Graves, who made this chair.

Tom made two rocking chairs, my mother said, and what became of the other one, we do not know.   Actually, Tom was a carpenter and a farmer by trade, among other ventures, and he not only constructed these two chairs, but numerous pieces of furniture, and with his son Delbert built a number of homes, barns, and even a two-story double-wide store in Esmond, South Dakota.  In his spare time, he liked to whittle, using soft stone.  Truly a creative man.


I don't know when he built this rocking chair - he died in 1933, at the age of 71, and I'm not sure when he retired from his life of woodworking, or if death was what ended his avocation.
But what I do know is that many generations of his young descendants were comforted in that chair, and his daughters, granddaughters, great-granddaughters, and great-great-granddaughters have tenderly held their sleeping infants in it. Most recently, my own granddaughter, Alyssa, who represents Generation Number Seven, joins the fold, and hopefully the tradition won't end there.

Esmond, South Dakota

    On the flat prairie of eastern South Dakota, there once thrived the bustling little town of Esmond.  I had lived in the general vicinity for many years, but it wasn't until I began my genealogy quest that I really learned of its existence.  Between my own personal research and research I've done for my various websites, I've encountered a lot of ghost towns, but despite having a population of zero, Esmond is far from dead.

    It started out with the name "Sana", and like many other small towns, was impacted by the westward-sprawling railroad tracks.  The town was moved 1/4 of a mile to be nearer to the railway, and renamed "Esmond" in the early 1880s.

    My connection to this area is through my great-great-grandparents.  Thomas Lafayette Graves, his wife Nettie Bell (Lair), and their four children pulled up their roots from Stark County, Illinois, bid adieu to their parents, siblings, cousins, and lifelong friends, and headed northeasterly to the small hamlet in March of 1906.  Tom was both a farmer and carpenter by trade, really a Jack of All Trades, working with his only son, Delbert.  They lived on a farm just a stone's throw north of town.

During their years there, Tom and Delbert built many homes and barns, and most notably, a large double-wide, two story building in Esmond. This building, known as the Big Store, housed a store on the main floor level, and an opera house/dance hall on the upper level (note the "T. L. Graves, 1911" at the top of the building).  We do not believe that Tom ever operated the store portion of the building, but he was responsible for many dances, and no doubt  good times, in the upper level.

When I first started researching this part of the Graves family's lives, I assumed I'd be disappointed with what little information I'd find, but I couldn't have been more wrong.  Several books have been written, with an extensive collection of photos published, and an annual Esmond Homecoming held during the summer.



On a trip back to South Dakota a few years ago, my mother and I made a detour through Esmond.  Despite both of us having been born and raised nearby, neither of us had ever been there.  Having seen the pictures of Esmond in its Glory Days, we hoped we might be able to see approximately where the Big Store might have been located.  As we drove down the ice-packed dirt road to toward what was left of the town, the spirit of residents long gone seemed to give us a warm welcome, despite the brutally cold temperatures of a South Dakota winter.  The gravel roads through the small town were packed with snow and ice, but, not about to be stopped after coming such a long way, we persevered, and were rewarded with signs on each lot, telling what business or home had been located there in days past.  Gazing down the street a couple of blocks stood what was left of the elevators by the railroad tracks, and suddenly, my mind flashed to a postcard I had showing the same scene, with busy townspeople all going about their business.  And just as suddenly, reality was back, and the elevators were delapidated, and the street empty.

    Every other summer, those wonderful souls who have taken responsibilty for keeping Esmond alive, hold an Esmond Homecoming, and one of these years, I'm going to make it back there to attend.  I want to go where my great grandmother went to school, where Nettie purchased her family's supplies, where Tom and Delbert laid brick after brick to construct the largest store in town.  I want to see the town streets full of people, and hear the bustle of activity, and for just a moment, experience the thriving little community of Esmond, South Dakota.

Sources:
"Home - Esmond, South Dakota"
"Remembering Esmond, South Dakota", 1996
http://esmond.santel.net/
http://www.epodunk.com/
Bonnie Guagliardi

Delbert Dee Graves, World War I

Any mother sending her son off to war has to do so with such mixed feelings - pride, tempered with fear; faith, battered by the reality of death.  So often I have tried to imagine what my great great grandmother, Nettie Graves, must have felt as she watched her only son, Delbert, leave for Camp Dodge, Iowa, on a warm Thursday in June of 1918.

Delbert, being the only boy in the family, had spent a lot of time with his father, helping him with the farm work, and together, they constructed numerous buildings on the flat plains of eastern South Dakota.  Delbert worked for a dray business, and raised hounds, and often helped his brother-in-law, Will Knutz, on his farm.

Delbert's absence from his family was no doubt immediately felt.  His father, Tom, mostly did carpentry work after Delbert left, probably finding the farm to be a burden to handle alone.  Delbert's younger sister Lulu, often pictured with him, must have had a difficult time adjusting to his absence.  And then there was his mother, Nettie.  I know how I would have felt, and not sure there are words to adequately express it.

Delbert's first stop was Camp Dodge, Iowa, pictured at left.  He often sent his little sister postcards, one, sent in August, just prior to him being relocated overseas, read, "Hello, Lulu, Have had a couple of easy Days work lately.  Good Bye, Best Wishes, D.D.G."  Delbert was a member of Company H of the 351st Infantry, commonly called the "Doughboys."  From Camp Dodge, he was sent to Fort Des Moines, and then to England at the end of August, and shortly afterward, to France. 


 Influenza was rampant, and struck the military in France especially hard.  After being in France a mere two weeks, nearly the whole Company came down the the flu.  Makeshift hospitals, such as those pictured here, were quickly constructed to deal with the incredible numbers of sick soldiers. Delbert's friend, J. W. Hofer, who had gone through Camp Dodge with Delbert and was assigned to the same Company, told of being sick himself, but not so severely as Delbert; he made sure Delbert was covered up, and brought him food, as often as he was able.  Still incredibly weak from his illness, Delbert was not able to go with his Company when they moved on.  On December 5, his condition worsened, and he was admitted to Base Hospital No. 18, with a diagnosis of Scarlet Fever.


Delbert died December 12, 1918.  His family was notified shortly thereafter.  His body was laid to rest in the American Cemetery at Bazoilles-sur-Meuse, Vosges, France.  However, reports kept surfacing from some of the other men who had known him, that they had seen him after this time, leaving the family with an incredible amount of anxiety, but hope as well.  More military investigations took place, and his death was definitely confirmed in April of 1919, some four agonizing months later.  I cannot imagine how many sleepless nights his family endured during this time, not knowing the fate of their son for so long.  They began making arrangements to have his body returned home, and laid to rest in their little town of Carthage, South Dakota, in Pleasant View cemetery, just outside of town. 

In June of 1920, Delbert finally came home.  A brief service was held at the family home - not exactly the homecoming they must have dreamed about for their beloved son and brother.  A public funeral was held at the cemetery, with The Delbert Graves Post of the American Legion in charge of the services, with full military honors.  A tremendous number of area people came to pay their respects and comfort the family, as can be seen from the photo above.

We should always remember our soldiers, each and every day.  Each one of them, and their families, have sacrificed *something* to do the work that needs to be done.  Some of these people have sacrificed EVERYTHING.  I know how Delbert's death and absence from the family affected the remainder of his mother's life.  Tucked inside one Delbert's books from his childhood, Nettie had placed a small piece of paper that she wrote some 10 years after his death -

"If you only could come home,

Friends may think we have forgotten, 

when at times they see us smile,

but they little know the heart aches

that our smiles hide all the while,

Sweet and peaceful be thy rest

Forget you, we can never;

God called thee, he knows best

His will be done forever."

God bless you, Delbert, and thank you for your sacrifice.

A Sunday Drive in Rural South Dakota

This photo depicts the Will Knutz family of rural Huron, South Dakota, enjoying their new car.  The photo was taken prior to 1918, and includes Will Knutz behind the driver's wheel; his wife Elvirta beside him, and in the back is little Howard, their son, Delbert Graves (Elvirta's brother) and Lulu Graves (Elvirta's sister).  Will and Elvirta's sons William and Richard are not in the photo.

It was said that it took Will awhile to refrain from pulling the steering wheel and saying "Whoa" to get the car stopped!

Memorial Day

I would like to pay tribute to a couple of the men in our family who gave their lives in defense of their country. Being a student of our family history, I have seen what price their immediate families have paid as a result of their service, and as a result, have a much better appreciation for our military men and women, and their families.

Delbert Dee Graves, 1891 - 1918, died in World War I, in France. He was the only son of Thomas and Nettie Graves. He joined the American Expeditionary Forces (aka "Doughboys") on June 27, 1918, and was assigned to Co. H of the 351st Infantry. After training, he was sent overseas to England on Aug. 28, 1918, and then to France shortly afterward. He worked in difficult circumstances, cold and damp, and his mother would knit him sweaters because he just could not keep warm enough in his surroundings. As a result he contracted an illness which led to scarlet fever, and died in a makeshift military hospital in France. He was buried in France, but a few years later was brought home to a hero's welcome in his small town of Carthage, South Dakota, and buried in Pleasant View Cemetery. The American Legion Post in Carthage was named in honor of him. Delbert was my great-grandmother's younger brother; he had worked as a drayman, carpenter and farmer, in conjunction with his father, and enjoyed raising hounds.



Raymond Christensen, 1914 - 1944, was killed in action in World War II. He interrupted his education at the University of Minnesota to enlist, and enrolled in officers training school in Florida. He was a flight officer in the 417th Night Fighter Squadron. He was one of a crew of two in an English Beau Fighter, and flew some of the most dangerous missions in the war. He was initially listed as Missing in Action, but his status was later changed to Killed in Action over Sicily, on May 13, 1944. He is still remembered for his wit and humor. He sold insurance policies while he put himself through school at the University of Minnesota and the St. Paul Agricultural College. He was a masterful practical joker. He was my grandmother's younger brother, and my grandfather's best friend.

Delbert and Raymond's families bore tremendous pain and long-lasting implications at the loss of their sons/brothers, as do the families of all fallen soldiers. It's so easy to forget that this holiday is more than a three-day weekend, filled with camping, fishing, cookouts, etc. It's a day to remember and honor these men, and their families who paid a huge price for all we enjoy in the U. S. today. Take some time to remember all of them with gratitude.