The Story Behind the Statue | Union Soldier Monument | Perryville, Missouri | Landmark Landing

 

Union Soldier Monument in Perryville, taken by Jennie Moore

    Hello friends, welcome to the blog. Today's stop is a statue I came across on a walk with my family in downtown Perryville, Missouri. Here we came across a monument for the Union Soldiers of Perry County, Missouri. The inscription reads "In memory of Perry County's Union Soldiers of the Civil War 1861-1865" and below that, "Erected by the Sons of Veterans and Auxiliary 1923". 

    Perry County played an important role in the American Civil War. The diary of Perry County resident Archibald Little Hager tells us that on June 11th, 1861, Brigadier General Nathaniel Lyon was ordered by the Department of War to enlist Missouri's "loyal citizens" to defend against the border state's pro-Southern cause. The following day, June 12th, 1861, there was a muster at the small community of Conrad's Mill in southern Perry County in which 71 men joined the Perry County Home Guard. 

    Conrad's Mill is located in Southern Perry County just about a mile north of the Bollinger County line on the old Greenville Road. Also in 1861, Camp Greason, sometimes called Camp Grayson, was established near Conrad's Mill as a Union training camp. Today, a cemetery called Campground Cemetery is one of the few traces left of wartime in the area. 

    Conrad's Mill derives its name from Columbus Conrad, who built a flour mill in the area sometime around 1856. However, the community's name would later be changed to Millheim, which remains today. Many who pass through Millheim today likely aren't aware of the hamlet's deep history, and role in Perry County's contribution to the Civil War. 

    Next time you pass the Perryville courthouse, tip your hat to the monument of the Union Solider standing guard in the yard. He represents all of those that put it all on the line to ensure our freedom, equality, and democracy. Think of the men that spent time at Camp Greason, and the men that signed their name on the dotted line when duty called at Conrad's Mill. We have them to thank for the United States as we know it today. 

An Abandoned 1790s Mansion | The Bradford-Berry House | Hendersonville, Tennessee | Abandoned

 

Bradford-Berry House, taken by Jennie Moore, 2024

    Hello friends, welcome back to the blog. Today I would like to share with you a location I previously explored with my mom in Hendersonville, Tennessee. This is the Bradford-Berry House, a lonely brick behemoth with a deep history. 

    Built in 1795 for Sgt. Henry Bradford, the home was one of the first of its kind in Middle Tennessee. Henry Bradford was born on March 12th, 1758 in Fauquier County, Virginia to William Bradford and Mary (Morgan) Bradford. During the American Revolution, Henry joined the Third Virginia Regiment, later being discharged as a Seargent in 1777. 

Bradford-Berry House, photographer unknown, 1944

 

    For his military service, Bradford was rewarded a 1,000 acre land grant located on Drake's Creek in what is today Sumner County, Tennessee. It is on this grant that the prominent estate, originally called Hazel Patch, was built. The home's bricks were hand crafted on site by enslaved persons borrowed from Bradford's stepfather, William Nash. 

    Henry Bradford's grandson, George Bradford, wrote a partial autobiography that went unfinished. In it, George recalls his grandfather being a slave owner himself, as the enslaved were listed in Henry's will to be split among the children upon his passing in 1815. Unfortunately, records of the Bradford's enslaved are sparse, and I have been unable to find further information on their lives, conditions, or names.

Bradford-Berry House, taken by Jennie Moore, 2024

    In 1887, the home and several hundred acres were sold to Horatio Berry for his daughter, Sarah. Sarah would initiate several renovations to the home, and ultimately rent out the estate until selling it to General Electric in 1969. As of 2023, the property now belongs to the city of Hendersonville.

    Challenges have arisen with the property's deed, slowing the preservation process. However, steps have been taken to correct this. In addition, the Bradford-Berry Preservation Society was created to raise awareness and funds for the home's preservation. Click here to visit their site.

Willis-Bradford Cemetery, taken by Jennie Moore, 2024

    Located within eyesight of the house is the family cemetery. Here lies Henry Bradford and descendants, however, most graves are unmarked today. It is also passed through family oral history that a cemetery for the enslaved exists on the property as well, but details are unknown. Further analyzation on these burials must be done. 

    At the time of this posting, there have been no developments at the Bradford-Berry House. All eyes are on the city of Hendersonville as the clock ticks on. Elements of city expansion grow closer all around the old estate. Preservation helps us elevate the voices lost to time, including those that spent their lives in bondage, building these places with their bare hands. 

Bradford-Berry House, taken by Jennie Moore, 2024

    Thank you for joining me to explore another location. Thank you also to my mom, who was willing venture out and tromp around this site with me. I do hope you learned something new and will return to blog in the future. 

Sources:

- The Bradford-Berry House: A Hidden Treasure - Main Street Media of Tennessee

- Historic home’s fate still in question - Main Street Media of Tennessee

- TN city approves possible option to build 100-foot bubble structure behind historic home

- Bradford-Berry House Preservation Society | Hendersonville, TN

- Henry Bradford Family

    

The Restoration of a Civil War Landmark | The Iron County Courthouse | Ironton, Missouri | Landmark Landing

Iron County Courthouse, taken by Jennie Moore, Christmas 2020

    Hello friends, welcome back to the blog. I wanted to discuss one of my favorite local historical buildings, the Iron County, Missouri Courthouse. It has recently undergone a transformation, and I wanted to share the updated appearance with you. For decades, the courthouse has sported red paint with white trim. My grandfather, Winfred Grogan was actually one of the painters hired with the task of painting the courthouse many moons ago. Recently, the paint has been stripped away to reveal the raw brick and mortar!

Iron County Courthouse, taken by Jennie Moore, 2025

    Built in 1858 for $14,000, the courthouse was built in the Federalist and Greek Revival style, even featuring an octagonal gazebo on top. I feel the new look really highlights the Greek influences in the architecture. The project's architect was Henry H. Wright, accompanied by contractors George S Evans and William F Mitchell. A 110-foot addition would be added on in 1964 by architect Hutchens and Frangkiser of Kansas City, accompanied by contractor Bonnot Construction Company out of Ulman. The cost of the addition totaled to $113,241.

The Iron County Courthouse, taken by Jennie Moore, 2025

    The Iron County Courthouse also saw its share of battle during the Battle of Pilot Knob, also known as the Battle of Fort Davidson on September 26th and 27th, 1864. At the beginning of the battle, rebel troops were advancing on the town of Ironton. Union soldiers were posted at the courthouse, prepared to defend. The fighting soon began with the Confederate's attack, with Federals returning fire from the courthouse lawn. 

Cannon fire damage on Iron County Courthouse, taken by Jennie Moore, 2025

    The 3rd M.S.M.'s Private Rector was killed by rebel gunfire, and the 47th Missouri Company E shot his killer dead. The Confederates returned with cannon fire, inflicting the damage to the courthouse that can still be seen today. Lt. Simonton and men, including a section of Montgomery's battery, pushed the rebels back to Shut In Gap, when the ordeal ended for the day at sunset on the 26th. 

    A lot of history has taken place here at the Iron County Courthouse since its construction in 1858. My grandparents, Darrell and Rosie Plummer even eloped in this very building in 1954, nearly 100 years after the famous battle took place. It will forever be one of my favorites in the area, and I recommend anyone to pay a visit to the historic courthouse complex when in Ironton. Thank you for reading and I hope you'll join me again next time!

Sources: 

- Iron County - American Courthouses

- Battle of Pilot Knob Historical Marker

- Iron County Courthouse Historical Marker

    

 

A 1780s Log Fort Replica | Mansker's Station | Goodlettsville, Tennessee | Landmark Landing

Mansker's Station, taken by Jennie Moore, 2023

    Hello friends, welcome to the blog! I'd like to share with you a site that my mom and I visited together at Moss Wright Park in Goodlettsville, Tennessee. This is Mansker's Station, a historically accurate replica of the original Mansker's Station frontier fort that existed at this site in the late 18th century, built by Kasper Mansker. 

    There were two forts built by Kasper Mansker and crew along Mansker's Creek. The first was built in 1779 on the creek's western bank. However, this fort would be abandoned in the winter of 1780-1781 due to attacks from the local indigenous peoples. After the settlers fled, the fort would be burned.  

    Like the first fort, the second too would be a log structure, this time built on the eastern side of the creek about a mile from the original. Mansker returned and began building the second fort in 1783. Many would stay at the fort throughout its existence, its primary purpose being to protect white settlers from native attacks as they staked their claims within indigenous territory. 

Historical Marker at Mansker's Station, taken by Jennie Moore, 2023

    Kasper Mansker was born circa 1750 on a ship called Christian, as it crossed the Atlantic from Europe. The Mansker family was of German descent, boarding Christian for a new life in the British American Colonies. As an adult, Kasper would become a long hunter and frontiersman, paving the path for colonization in Middle Tennessee. 

    In 1988, the replica of Mansker's Station would be built. Not only is the replica an accurate representation of 18th century construction, but was actually built using 18th century tools and techniques. Today, the site hosts living history exhibits and historical reenactors to help tell the story of the settlers that once lived at Mansker's Station. 

    Thank you for coming along with me on another adventure. I hope you learned something new and enjoyed the read. I look forward to seeing you on a future post! 

Sources:

-  Mansker's Station | Goodlettsville, TN - Official Website

- Mansker’s Station Historical Marker

- Historic Mansker Station

 

Benjamin B. Cahoon, Fredericktown's Most Famous Lawyer | Fredericktown, Missouri | Grave Hopping

 

                                 Headstone of Benjamin Benson Cahoon, taken by Jennie Moore

     Hello everyone, welcome back to the blog. As y'all know, visiting cemeteries is a big part of my work, and frankly a big part of my passion. Rather I visit for a specific reason or am just looking to learn, I often find myself drawn to random graves within the cemetery. For one reason or another, sometimes unbeknownst to me, I'm often gravitated toward a specific headstone among the sea of so many. When I experience this, I snap a picture, and go home to begin my research. I've decided to start writing about my findings, and sharing their stories with you all. Although many of these subjects may not be famous people, I find inspiration in the lives of these everyday persons. It is impossible to predict what is hiding behind the names on each stone. This series may not be for everyone, but I do hope some of you will enjoy and come along on these journeys with me!

    One of the first images I have taken in such a scenario is the one seen above. My dad and I are both interested in local history, so he has accompanied me on many cemetery visits. A few years back, we were visiting the Saint Michaels Church Catholic Cemetery in Fredericktown, Missouri. This cemetery is one of the oldest in the area, so it wasn't long before I found my stone of interest. When I see a stone of this type, it peaks my interest, as it may be a military issued stone. One with this weathering tipped me off that this could be a soldier of the Civil War, perhaps my favorite era to research. Sure enough, it became clear that it was my lucky day as I made my way closer. I had reached the grave of Benjamin B. Cahoon. I liked the name and was eager to know more. 

     Benjamin Benson Cahoon was born on July 7th, 1846 in Wilmington, Delaware. He was brought up in a respectable family, his father being a minister. Cahoon had plans to further pursue education when the Civil War broke out. He would join the Union cause, fighting with the First Regiment of the Delaware Volunteer Infantry, a part of the notable Army of the Potomac. During his service, Benjamin sustained injuries at both Antietam and Gettysburg, two of the bloodiest battles of the war. In spite of seeing the heights of the war's brutality, the young man returned home not only a survivor, but a hero.

    After the war concluded, Cahoon resumed his education, focusing in law. He also made the move to Missouri, settling in Fredericktown in 1868. Here, he established his law practice, understanding that Fredericktown was a growing hamlet with a need for his work. On February 3rd, 1869, Cahoon wed Miss Marie Isabella "Belle/Bella" LeCompte. Bella was born on October 18th, 1847 in Ste. Genevieve, Missouri, a descendant of one of Ste. Genevieve's early French settler families. Together, they would have three children Virginia, Eugenia, and Benjamin Jr. The marriage would last just under twenty years, until Bella passed away after a difficult battle with cancer on January 15th, 1889. She was surrounded by her family, including loving husband, Benjamin. Bella is remembered as a dedicated wife, mother, and member of the church. She is also buried in Saint Michaels Church Catholic Cemetery.

                                                         Benjamin Benson "B.B." Cahoon

    By this time, Cahoon's political career was going well. He had advanced from county attorney to circuit attorney, and had many impressive connections. His success had taken him to Washington D.C., where he met Miss Nancy Owens "Annie" Fisher, daughter of prominent Judge Fisher who was born on Christmas Day 1847. The two wed on March 5th, 1891 in a small but prestigious ceremony. From here, Cahoon continued his career, obtaining a nomination for governor in 1896. He would not win this election, but that set him on a path to pursue another interest of his. Governor Hadley went on to name Cahoon one of the managers of the Farmington Hospital, which still exists today. 

    After a prolonged battle with disease, Annie passed away on October 27th, 1915. She was laid to rest back in her home state of Delaware. Now a widower, Cahoon went on with his practice despite experiencing hearing loss in his advancing age. On July 22nd 1923, tragedy struck the family once again when Cahoon's granddaughter, Virginia Ann Cahoon, was killed in a car accident in Wayne County, Missouri. Virginia was the daughter of Benjamin Jr., and she was only 18 years old at the time of her passing. This is often attributed to be the ultimate downfall of Benjamin Sr.'s health and well being, as his health began to spiral after this incident. 

    On the morning of November 9th the same year, Benjamin Benson Cahoon Sr. passed away in his sleep at his home in Fredericktown. The loss of the community's beloved "B.B." was felt widely, as many paid respect to the man and his impressive career. Cahoon came from humble roots, and was truly self made. From a poor young man traveling west, to a soldier, to a lawyer and politician, Cahoon had done it all. 

    Over a century has elapsed since Cahoon's death, and had I not stumbled upon his stone, I likely would've never known his story. Now you know his story too, and I hope you found it interesting enough to join me on the blog again in the future. 

     

Middle Tennessee's Tent Graves | Polk Bilbrey Cemetery | Overton County, Tennessee | Cemeteries

 

Polk Bilbrey Cemetery Sign taken by Jennie Moore, 2017

    In 2017, my mom and I traveled to Overton County, Tennessee on a quest of genealogy. We have deep ancestral roots in the area, prompting us to make the six-hour journey from southeast Missouri. One of the stops we made upon arrival was the Polk Bilbrey Cemetery, one of the most fascinating cemeteries I've ever visited. This was my first time seeing tent graves, which immediately grabbed my attention. American and Confederate flags decorated the graves, marking the resting places of many soldiers from both the Civil and Revolutionary wars. 

Tent Graves in Polk Bilbrey Cemetery taken by Jennie Moore, 2017

    So, what are tent graves? Primarily a trait of middle Tennessee, tent graves, also sometimes called "comb graves" first appeared here in the early 1800s. They consist of a tent-like shape formed by stone slabs over the burial. These graves can also be found in other southern states, but it is Tennessee where the phenomenon is most prevalent. Why exactly these graves came to be is debated, theories range from simply deterring digging animals to perhaps a spiritual significance. Regardless of why, these graves became ingrained in the culture of middle Tennessee.

Polk Bilbrey Cemetery taken by Jennie Moore, 2017

    Polk Bilbrey Cemetery sits off a lone gravel road outside of Livingston, Tennessee. As I walked the grounds, I felt a sense of deep wonder and curiosity. I have walked many cemeteries, but none like this one. I was so grateful to have seen these mysterious tent graves with my own eyes. They are truly one of the United States' most interesting pieces of cemetery history. 

Isham Bilbrey Grave taken by Jennie Moore, 2017

    Although not a tent grave, a burial that grabbed my attention was that of Revolutionary War soldier Isham Hansford Bilbrey, namesake of the cemetery. Bilbrey was born in 1765 in North Carolina to Thomas and Sarah (Smith) Bilbrey. He married Ruth Sellers in 1788, and they went on to have thirteen children. Isham served in the Continental Line in North Carolina during the Revolutionary War, surviving his service and passing away at age 81-82 in Overton County, Tennessee. He has the second earliest documented birth year in the cemetery.

    Thank you all for joining me on another journey. I hope you enjoyed this stop and leaned something new, I certainly did. Polk Bilbrey is one of the most interesting cemeteries I've had the pleasure of visiting, and I hope to encounter more tent graves in the future. If you have ever visited tent graves, or any unique graves for that matter, I'd love to hear about your visit in the comments. Until next time, take care friends. 

Home For the Holidays | First Christmas with Our New Family | Christmas 2025

 

    Hello friends, Merry Christmas! I hope you all are enjoying your holiday with friends and family, I know I am. I wanted to provide an update on our family journey that I shared about previously, as we just shared our first Christmas together. If you haven't read my original post about our family journey, click here to read. This Christmas has been the best in our memory thanks to our newfound family, and I again thank each and every one of you for your warmth and kindness. 

    It was about eight o'clock in the morning when we set out for the two-and-a-half-hour trip to Jonesboro, Arkansas. We stopped for coffee and headed south, spirits high among us. This was to be our first Christmas together, sixty-three years in the making. In addition to the who we had met just a few months before, we were also to meet even more family at this gathering, which we had been really looking forward to. Soon enough, we all converged on Aunt Joan's house, cars with license plates from five different states parked in the driveway. 

    Upon arriving, we were greeted gleefully by Joan and others. Immediately we were taken into the festive atmosphere. Others began to arrive as we settled in, and soon we had a full house. Among the guests were three cousins who had come from Tennessee and Mississippi, daughters and granddaughter of great aunt Bee, my grandfather's sister (Linda, Pat, and Linda's daughter Tammy). Ever since the breakthrough had been made and contact with family began, these cousins had reached out to me with such kindness. I am over the moon that they had come to meet us. These ladies are fabulous quilters, and I've loved seeing their work through Facebook for the past few months. Imagine my delight and surprise when they came bearing gifts. Inside two bags, one for my parents and one for me, was two absolutely beautiful, handmade quilts. 

Quilt gifted to me by Linda

    We chatted at the tables set up in the garage, as there were so many of us. It was then that cousin Linda, gifter of the quilts, pulled out another surprise. We waited in anticipation as she pulled an envelope of family photos from her purse. Dad and I were thrilled to see them. I began to pull out my phone to take photos of the photos, when Linda said "these are for you." They had been kind enough to make us our own copies of all the moments that we had missed. We spent time filing through them, listening to the information and stories that the ladies had to share. We laughed about the shocking resemblances and shared features among us all. These moments are absolutely priceless to me.

    Soon we joined for the meal, a grand southern spread made by several members of the family. We said grace and dug in, and boy was it delicious. The room fell quiet as we enjoyed our plates. After, it was time for the ornament exchange, an annual tradition for the family that I had never done before. We gathered in the living room in a large circle, each with an ornament we had brought. Aunt Joan sat at the fireplace and began to read the story of the origin of Christmas. Each time a key word was said, we passed the ornament to the person to our right. By the end of the story, we each had a new ornament! We opened them in unison, a fun reveal. I got cousin Ethan's T-Rex ornament, which I think is absolutely awesome, and looks perfect on my pink tree at home. It felt so good to be a part of something like this.

    We visited for a while longer, getting to know the newly met members of the family. I could try to nail down this feeling into words, but I'm not sure that its possible. It took a long time for us to find our way here, yet I have never been so sure where I belong. Soon, we had to set back out for home. No amount of time would have been enough. There are still so many conversations I cannot wait to have, and moments I cannot wait to share with every member of this incredible family. Thank you for teaching us about unconditional love, and I am so eager to see you all again. Thank you for a very special, memorable Christmas!

     

A Civil War Soldier's Widow in the 1950s | Nancy Jane "Aunt Nan" Dosing | Flat River, Park Hills, Missouri

 

Nancy Jane "Aunt Nan" (Whaley) Dosing c. 1949

    Hello everyone, welcome back to the blog! In today's article, I want to share with you the life of a very interesting and beloved local woman with quite the unique story. Nicknamed "Aunt Nan" by the community, Nancy left an immense impact on her hometown of Flat River, Missouri. A loving and funny maternal figure to many, Nancy's life and memories are a view into an era of the Lead Belt that is only otherwise captured in the occasional black and white photo. Perhaps the most interesting element of Nancy's story, is that she was the widow of a Civil War soldier, and was the only known local woman to be receiving a Civil War pension that long after the war. Nancy received her late husband's pension until her death in 1958, nearly a century after the start of the Civil War.

Nancy Jane (Whaley) Dosing, younger

    On July 17th, 1870, Flat River couple George and Gillilah (Cobb) Whaley welcomed a baby girl into their family. They would call her Nancy Jane, and raise her in the small farming community in which they had settled. As a child, Nancy lived in a log home, referred to as the Walton house, which sat on the corner of what is now West Main Street and Coffman Street in Flat River, now a part of the city of Park Hills. George Whaley was a farmer, and we know he cultivated corn. In addition to crops, the Whaley family also raised cattle, sourcing their own milk and butter. Click here to read an article about Aunt Nan and her memories from the Lead Belt News written in 1949. 

John Dosing Sr.

    In 1902, Nancy Jane Whaley married a man named John Dosing Sr., who was twenty-six years her elder. He was a widower, father, and stepfather. John was born on April 14th, 1844 in Schmelz, Germany, though relocated to the United States as an infant along with his parents. Here he served in the American Civil War as a member of the Union Army, with the 49th Illinois Infantry, Company G. Although being German born, John was known for his patriotism and was proud to fight for the cause. Dosing entered the service as a Private and exited as a Sergeant. He spent the rest of his career in the local lead mines, as well as being an active member of the community, local churches, and lodges. Like Aunt Nan, John was given the nickname "Uncle John". 

    Together, Nancy and John Dosing raised his children, and also adopted Nancy's niece, Alma. All children were treated as their own, and although Nancy never had any biological children, she became a wonderful and treasured mother. John Dosing Sr. passed away on October 15th, 1918 of an illness he had been battling for about three weeks. At the time of his passing, John was 74, leaving Nancy as a widow at only 48 years old. Nancy would never remarry, living out the remainder of her life, another forty years, in the home she once shared with her husband. 

    It was during these years that Aunt Nan became the figure we remember so well today. Although the only human living in the home, Nancy surely was not without company. Aunt Nan was a known animal lover, having multiple pet birds, and a dog named Prince. Some neighbors may have wished the noisy birds away, but Nancy vowed to keep and care for them, and the neighbors who loved Nancy so, simply learned to cope with the chatter. Nancy could often be seen walking the main drag in Flat River, doing her shopping. Even as she aged, she remained busy, enjoying her daily tasks. Aunt Nan fancied listening to the radio, old-style cooking, and visitors. Until her death, a portrait of her late husband hung on the wall for her to admire. By the 1950s, Nancy Jane Dosing was the only known woman in the area still receiving a pension for being the widow of the Civil War soldier.

    Nancy Jane Dosing passed away on September 15th, 1958 at the age of 88. The Dosings are buried in the Knights of Pythias Cemetery in Park Hills, Missouri (Flat River area). Their story is an interesting one and I do hope you enjoyed hearing it. Thank you for joining me on the blog and I hope you'll join me again in the future. 

    

The Old Cape Girardeau Bridge at Riverfront Bridge Park | Cape Girardeau, Missouri | Landmark Landing

Old Cape Girardeau Bridge Base at Riverfront Bridge Park, taken by Jennie Moore

        Hello friends, welcome to the blog! Today's entry is a stop Walter and I made in Cape Girardeau, Missouri a while back. Riverfront Bridge Park is at the base of what was once the Cape Girardeau Bridge and is now a scenic lookout point over the Mississippi River. Before being replaced by the Bill Emerson Memorial Bridge, the Cape Girardeau Bridge was once an engineering feat. 

    It was May 4th, 1926, when President Calvin Coolidge approved a bill to build a bridge across the Mississippi River from Cape Girardeau, Missouri to East Cape Girardeau, Illinois. It would be a continuous through truss bridge at a length of 4744.3 feet, width of 20 feet, and weighing a whopping 43,000 tons. The bridge was built by the American Bridge Company and U.G.I. Company for approximately 1.2 million dollars. Construction began in February of 1927, and the bridge was opened on September 3rd, 1928. An opening ceremony was held and attended by some 15,000 people.

Old Cape Girardeau Bridge, photographer unknown

    The Cape Girardeau Bridge served its people for three quarters of a century before being replaced by the Bill Emerson Memorial Bridge in 2003. Today, the recognizable bridge base is a quaint and enjoyable park. Walter and I enjoyed our walk and view out onto the mighty Mississippi. As a history nerd, I really appreciate that this part of the bridge was saved and made into something for the community. We will definitely be visiting this park again, perhaps with a picnic on a nice day.

Coming Home | Meeting My Biological Family After a 62 Year Mystery

     

Group photo from our first Arkansas visit! (8/24/25)

    Hello everyone! I have something to share that has been so long in the making, something incredibly close to my heart. As of late, I've been on a life changing journey that I have prayed for since childhood. Some of you who know me personally may know that one of the driving reasons behind my interest in genealogy comes from my own personal family mystery. As can be seen in my previous posts, I am extremely close with my grandparents, and based off of our relationship, some may be surprised to learn that they are actually my grandparents via adoption. I am beyond grateful to say that this has never hindered our relationship, and I couldn't have asked for better family. With that being said, I would like to open up the dialogue to tell y'all a little more about my backstory.

    Growing up, my dad never knew his biological father. In fact, it wasn't until he was a teenager that he was made aware that the man on his birth certificate and who he called "dad", was not his biological father. Thankfully, this didn't sour the relationship between the two, and my dad still shares fond memories of Charles Moore Sr. Sadly, Charles and my father's mother eventually separated, leaving my dad without a consistent father figure. This led to more questions about his biological father, especially as he grew into adulthood.

    It was my great aunt Nellie, my father's mother's sister, that had the information that my father was seeking. She shared basic information that she recalled from decades prior, as my father by this time was in his thirties. She shared a name, home state, estimated age, and a few other details, and it was from here that the search began. Aunt Nellie made a point to emphasize how much my dad favored his father, who she had met all those years ago. My father spent decades searching for his estranged biological family, to no avail. I grew up knowing about our family mystery, my dad sharing age-appropriate pieces of information over the years and carefully answering my questions. I too grew curious and wanted to know more about our roots.

    I was about thirteen or fourteen when I began my own search for answers. Newspaper clippings, phone books, and finally, an Ancestry.com account, thanks to my mom. I spent years filing through documents and directories, all the while sending message after message to strangers, all along the lines of "Do you know this person?" I too failed to make any real progress, until I was gifted a DNA test kit. Of course I was interested to learn more about my heritage, but I knew what answers I really hoped the test would bring. 

    When I received the results, my heart raced as I filed through the matches. There, I saw three close matches with the last name that Aunt Nellie had given my father in the 1990s. I knew that this had opened a new door for my dad and I. I reached out to a few of the matches, and relatives of matches via social media several times over the course of the next few years. It was this past April (2025) that the final breakthrough was made. I was in the car with my step-mom when I got a notification on Facebook Messenger. It was a member of our missing biological family, a cousin, named Mikka. She had caught wind of my search and reached out to me. She too is the granddaughter of my once mysterious paternal grandfather, named Mack. Her mother, Joan, is my dad's older sister. Joan hadn't taken a DNA test, therefor I never knew to look for her. She had slipped under my radar. Best of all, they wanted to know us. 

    I had never experienced a feeling quite like that one, it was everything I had dreamed it would be. We rushed home to the farm to tell my father the news that he had waited all of his sixty-two years for. That was the first time I've seen him shed tears of joy. I did too, and have many times since then. A couple days later, I called Joan to go over everything, as she was gracious enough to give me her phone number. This was the phone call that had played in my mind a million times over throughout my life. She met me with such kindness and warmth, I knew that my life had been forever changed. We were so quickly welcomed into the family and shown nothing but outpouring love. Most of the family lives in Arkansas, a moderate driving distance, but it was unanimously agreed to meet as soon as possible.

My Dad, cousin Brett, and I meeting for the first time (7/19/25)

    The first meeting of our new family came in July when Joan's son Brett and wife Cheyenne were visiting a local tourist town here in my father and I's home state of Missouri to celebrate their anniversary. We had decided to meet for lunch at a local favorite restaurant. Our emotions were high, I really couldn't believe this was finally happening. When the pair arrived, we were greeted with so much love and enthusiasm, I felt a joy that surpassed anything I had known before. Hugs were traded and we had so much to discuss, we had altogether forgotten we were supposed to order a meal. This day will stay so vivid in my mind.

Group photo! (7/19/25)

    From here, we knew we had to make our plans to meet Joan. Finding the time and ability to take a day off can be difficult when in the farming business, but we finally managed to make it happen this past weekend! My dad and I were up bright and early Sunday morning to make the two-and-a-half-hour drive into rural Arkansas. I was so excited I nearly sent myself into a panic attack. The drive was beautiful and flew by as we chattered about the miracle taking place. When we arrived at Joan's house, we stood there in the driveway for a moment before going to the door, absorbing the moment, reflecting, and appreciating. Somehow the sun seemed to shine brighter that day, and the colors of the world more vivid. 

My Dad and Joan! (8/24/25)

    When we reached the door, several family members met us there. Smiles, hugs, and greetings erupted. Expressions of shock due to my father's striking resemblance to Mack passed around the room. I had never been here before, but I felt as if I had just gotten home. I ran to my Aunt Joan and wrapped my arms around her at the first given chance. I worked my way around the group, finally ending with Mikka. She took me in and I let out a sigh of relief as I melted into her arms. Two more family members then arrived, Mikka's two daughters. Also there is Brett and Cheyenne, and this time we got to meet one of their sons as well! We all filed into the living area and sat in a big circle, covering sixty-two years of lost time. I looked around at everyone, and once again I struggle to find the words to describe such a feeling. Each of these people had shown up for us and met us with unconditional love, no questions asked. 

My Dad, Joan and I looking through family photos and documents. (8/24/25)

    After visiting some, Joan announced that she had made banana pudding for us all. She had no way of knowing that banana pudding is one of my dad's all-time favorite desserts, but it seems some kind of higher power had whispered in her ear. We piled into the kitchen and all had a bowl of the delicious pudding as we looked through several family photos and documents, much to my dad and I's amazement. Even a family member in Texas who couldn't be there to meet us called on FaceTime to be a part of the celebration and send us her love. I prayed that it wasn't all a dream. 

My Dad and I at Joan's, him holding a photo of his father, Mack. (Note the resemblance!) (8/24/25)

    Eventually we had to begin our haul back to Southeast Missouri, but I am already looking forward to seeing my new family again. We've already made plans for upcoming holidays and day trips. It's hard to fit a journey like this into one blog post, so I would really like to delve into things more in the future with my family's blessing. I've learned that my grandfather Mack was a vibrant character, loved by his friends and community, something I am so proud of. Mack passed away in 1986 never knowing about my father's existence, so our meeting will have to wait. Though I can't help but think that he is proudly watching over us all as we reunite and come together. 

    We still have more family to meet and lots of bonding to do, along with chasing down those ancestral roots that nearly slipped through my fingers. I'm eager to update on my journey in the future, as I fully enjoy and savor these blessings. To my newfound family, thank you for everything, and I am so happy to finally know your love. At this point in the journey, I suppose the only pivotal question I have left, is if it is too soon to say "I love you."

Solving a Missing Photo Mystery | More About My Grandpa

     First of all, I want to express my gratitude toward those of you who read my last post and shared such kind and encouraging words. I'm graciously overwhelmed by the response, and I can't tell you all how much it means to me. Each of your compliments brings me great honor, most times I can't believe they are being said about me. To say I have great friends, family, and readers is an understatement. Without those things, I believe I would find it rather difficult to write at all, even if it is a much-needed mode of therapy. I'm really grateful for your support. 

    Although I understood the direction I was meant to continue writing in, I wasn't specifically sure where to start. There is so much to cover. So many people, so many memories. Of course, I gravitated toward the idea of writing more about my grandpa, but how could I possibly fit him into one article? It simply can't be done, so I was left once again wondering where to start. Today, I got my answer. Another seemingly divine encounter with impeccable timing. 

    I've been documenting my life and travels for as long as I can remember. I've always been the friend that takes all the pictures. I call myself a "memory hoarder". It began with disposable film cameras, then a digital camera, and eventually my first iPhone. Sometimes when I wanted to capture a moment important to me, I'd ask someone to take a photo of me. I've kept as many photos as possible from throughout my life, although I was always somewhat bothered by a group of photos and videos that I had lost track of. I had taken these between the ages of 10 to 14 on my first couple of iPhones. Last I could remember, they were uploaded onto my cute yellow laptop...that I haven't seen in years. I thought about the photos fairly often and hoped they didn't get thrown out with the computer, but it wasn't looking good. Over the years I had found a couple drives, looked through the photos, no luck. I had just about given up.

    Today, my dad came over to visit me. My chronic illness has been giving me trouble, and he knows his presence is some of the best medicine. While here, he was rummaging through a drawer looking for batteries, when he pulled out a dusty CD case with two discs inside. "Jen iPhone Pics 2014" they read in black marker. I was stunned. That drawer had been blocked for some time, so I hadn't looked there for the photos. I also don't recall them being put onto discs, something my dad must've thoughtfully done before laying my old computer to rest. "I should've known you wouldn't have just chucked the computer without saving my pictures." I said to him. "Of course not." he smiled and handed me the case, along with the disc reader to use with my current laptop. 

    I had a loose idea of what some of the photos could be. Snapshots of weekends at Goose Creek, our trip to Florida, my dad and I's adventures. A while back, my dad had asked me if I still had those pictures of my grandpa and I hauling hay on the farm when I was a kid. Unfortunately, those were among the missing photos. I prayed there would be a way to recover them, as they were all the more precious now. When I popped the first disc in, I knew what I hoped I would find. The first disc I put in was actually the second disc chronologically; all of the photos being taken in 2014. I flipped through them all, happy about my finds, but not entirely satisfied. I ejected the disc and switched it out for disc one, those photos being taken in 2013. 

    I flipped through only a handful of photos before I reached what I had been searching for. The photo was even better than I remembered, showing both my grandpa and I in our tractors, side by side. It was a great wave of emotion, a true feeling of joy. I immediately sent it to my dad, who was also overjoyed. I knew then what I would write about today. 

My grandfather (Darrell Plummer) and I (Jennie Moore) hauling hay on our farm in Knob Lick, Missouri - taken summer of 2013.

    Hauling hay with my grandpa, who I always called "Papa", is among my most favorite memories. Any memory I have of us spending time together on the farm lay especially close to my heart. I was blessed with countless summer days where I tagged along with Papa to check the cattle and visit his parents who lived in the farmhouse at the time. I think even then I knew how special those moments were. He trusted me with big tasks early; he always believed in me more than I believed in myself. Maybe eleven is a bit young to be operating agricultural equipment, but he never put me in over my head. We did this many times over the years, always without incident. We worked well together, and he always had a way of knowing what I was capable of. 

   He taught me how to drive slowly and carefully, keeping an eye out for ruts in the field. There were even times where he let me sit on his lap and drive his truck in the field. I don't know what I did to deserve the honors he gave me, but I'm forever grateful he allowed me to have those experiences. 

    Today, my dad and step-mother live in the farmhouse, taking over about two years ago. That has been one of the biggest blessings in my life, without question. Often I roam the fields, reminiscing on my memories with my since passed family members. I retrace their steps, taking in the view that they too once sought refuge in. The farm holds pieces of my loved ones, as if a portion of their energy had come to stay after they left their earthly form, creating a place I could always go to feel that closeness I yearn for. Now, I walk to find my grandfather. Perhaps it is really he that finds me. Either way, I usually end my walk feeling better. 

 

    I'm really grateful we recovered the missing photos, especially the one of my Papa and I. If I could only save one photo from the bunch, it would be this one. It will likely take me tens of articles to fully tell my grandfather's story, and how much he and our relationship means to me. Now that I cannot give the love in my heart directly to him, I'm sure I will write about him for the rest of my life. Thank you for lending an ear, it means the world to me. Until next time, friends. 

     

The Metropolis That Never Was | Future City, Illinois | Small Town Saturday

 

Bruce School in Future City, IL, taken by Jennie Moore

    Hello friends, welcome back to the blog. This week, I want to share with you the community of Future City, Illinois. Future City is located in Alexander County, a part of the "Little Egypt" region of southern Illinois. Founded as a predominantly African American suburb of nearby Cairo, Illinois, Future City first appears on the map in the early 1900s. It was a quickly growing community, and citizens felt optimistic about their young town's future. As a result, the hamlet was given a name that promised prosperity. At this time, neighboring Cairo was experiencing rapid growth, with a population nearing 13,000 by 1900, and exceeding 18,000 in 1905. (I will elaborate further on Cairo in a future series!) This was great news for Future City, and citizens were confident that progress was on the way to their town. 

    Seen in the photo above is Bruce School, the most iconic structure in Future City. Bruce School was opened in 1908, and operated until 1968, according to a local. According to The Cairo Bulletin in 1905, Future City had 200 students attending their schools, nearly all of whom attended the Garrison School. Several newspaper articles reveal that Future City had multiple schools, which were racially segregated, with a separate school being constructed for black pupils in 1907. In 1908, Bruce School was completed and seems to be the first, possibly only school for black children built within Future City proper. The previous school sat about a mile north of town, a long walk for children who were undeserving victims of discrimination. Another school that existed in Future City was Ruth School House, where many residents took shelter after the catastrophic flooding in 1912. Other articles mention schools by the name of Elmwood and Woodside existing around this time as well. In addition, an orphan home would also be opened for black children in Future City.

    After Bruce School's closure, the building would serve as a bar or nightclub under various names and owners for many years. Some of the names associated with the building are the Stork Club, Captain Joe's, The Long Branch Saloon, or Lambert's Lounge. As a nightclub, the former school would build quite the reputation of violence, gambling, and even rumors of prostitution. In spite of this, many locals share fond memories of their time at the nightclub. Some tell of local musicians filling the room with their sweet sound, and dancing until daylight broke. Others recall playing game after game of pool with friends and family. Almost all residents can share fond memories of the owners over the years.

Future City, IL, (Shiloh Baptist Church on far right) taken by Jennie Moore

    Within the first leg of Future City's existence, many amenities came to town, confirming the potential that citizens had seen from the beginning. Future City had homes, churches, stores, gas stations, lodges, and a growing population which had reached 992 in 1905, a 42% increase from the 1900 census. The town saw new jobs, and heavy railroad activity, which included a trolley line that was extended into Future City and neighboring communities. Soon it became apparent that more space for residents was needed, so the village was expanded by adding new streets. Future City was home to The Three States Gun Club, a lumber mill, a steam powered grist mill, and even their own baseball team! By 1910, Future City even had its own mayor, a man by the name of Mr. Kuntz. Things were going according to plan, until one of the things that made Future City so beautiful, turned against its people. 

An article from The Cairo Bulletin from July 19th, 1905.

     Future City, along with neighbor Cairo, sit at the confluence of the Mississippi and Ohio Rivers. The elevation in this peninsula is quite low, only 312 feet in Future City, in contrast to state of Illinois average of about 600 feet. Although great for agriculture thanks to its fertile soil, this region is constantly under the gun, as floods come frequently. In the spring of 1912, tragedy would strike Future City. Flood waters, peaking at 54 feet in Cairo, ravaged the community and left residents sleeping in tents where their homes used to be. Just previous to this, in 1911, a fire consumed two blocks of Future City, destroying four grocery stores and the homes of 25 families. However, the town recovered from the two incidents, was quickly rebuilt, and citizens proved their resilience. Things were looking up, but less than a year would go by before mother nature began to rear her head again.

An article from The Cairo Bulletin, acknowledging local heroes who sprung into action after the flooding in 1912.

        As previously mentioned, Future City and Cairo's location at the confluence of two major rivers, is both a blessing and a curse. The Great Flood of 1913 took place in March of said year, and left behind immense damage in 21 states. From March 23rd to March 27th, most of the Midwest had seen near constant rain. Both the Mississippi and Ohio Rivers would flood, causing catastrophic damage to Ohio and Mississippi Valleys, including many notable cities. The Cairo peninsula being at the meeting point of these two waterways, meant that they were in for double impact. While cities to the north had began seeing flood waters recede on March 28th, waters did not reach peak height in southern Illinois until April 4th-8th, measuring in at a record smashing 54.7 feet in Cairo, which has only been surpassed twice in the 111 years since then. 

Flood of 1913 aftermath in Future City, photographer unknown

    As a result of these events, Future City was left unrecognizable. Cairo faired better, but not by coincidence. During the flood of 1912, the levees around Cairo were compromised. As waters began to rise during The Great Flood of 1913, immediate action was required to preserve the city. Residents of Future City were recruited to assist with sandbagging and reinforcing the levees surrounding Cairo. This would prove to be effective, as Cairo avoided total destruction, but this left a grim fate for defenseless Future City. At this time, 214 structures stood in Future City. As flood waters cascaded into the village, these structures were swept away from their foundations, and deposited messily throughout the landscape. A fleet of motorboats, manned by the Illinois National Guard and led by Cairo's own  mayor, soon arrived in Future City to help. Accounts tell that the National Guard had come with ropes, which were tied around misplaced structures, pulled back into town, and secured to trees to prevent them from floating away once more. Although none were on their correct lots, an impressive 168 of the 214 structures in Future City were saved thanks to their tireless efforts. One waters receded, the structures were able to be moved back to their original locations. Overall, The Great Flood of 1913 was still devastating for Future City, and is often considered the trigger of the town's decline. 

An article from The Cairo Bulletin detailing the flood aftermath as well as reconstruction.

Future City, 1931

    Despite Mother Nature's relentless wrath, the people of Future City persisted. The town never fully recovered from The Great Flood of 1913, but to say Future City's story ends here as many do, would be an injustice. The truth is, although declining, Future City remained populated for decades, and is still home to a handful of families today. Although, it is hard to ignore the deliberate neglect of Future City by local government that had taken place over the course of decades. Future City and surrounding rural areas would be of the last in Illinois to have a mail route implemented. Also, Future City requested for incorporation countless times during the early 1900s, all of which would be denied.

A newspaper article in The Cairo Bulletin from April 26th, 1904, detailing the fight for incorporation.

    An interesting fact about Future City, is that it was never a true stranger to the term "ghost town". During cotton season, a large portion of Future City's population would leave their homes and travel south to pick said cotton for work. As we know, this was extremely labor intensive, and a reminder that black Americans were working on plantations long after the abolishment of slavery. This was mostly due to slim options in the work force as a result of racial discrimination. Even children would partake in the grueling work, with school attendance being noticeably low in active cotton season.

Future City, IL, taken by Jennie Moore

    When researching the people of Future City, something I saw frequently, were draft cards. Several citizens of the town served in the military, especially during World War II. It seems that the children of Future City were instilled with bravery, knowledge, and the desire to help others. When duty called, many from Future City answered that call. We have them, along with the community and culture that raised them, to thank for the freedom we have today. They are among the massive population of African-American veterans that never got the credit and respect they deserve. This honor isn't exclusive to just military however, there have been many upstanding citizens of Future City who had impressive careers.

Donald Lee Purchase (1929-2018), resident of Future City, in Military attire. Purchase was only 18 years old when enlisted to fight in WWII. He is laid to rest at Jefferson Barracks.

Dr. Nathel "Nat" Burtley (1940-2020), resident of Future City, pictured in the 1962 Southern Illinois University yearbook. Burtley later relocated to Flint, Michigan, where he served as the Superintendent for Flint Community Schools District.

Rev. Harold (1909-2000) and Helen (1913-1975) Clemons. Harold was born in Future City, and Helen was from Southern Illinois as well. Harold served in the Military during World War II, was a trucker, and also owned & worked "Harold Clemons Dairy" in the Cairo area at the time he joined the military in 1940. 

The Cawood (sometimes spelled Caywood) Family, from left to right; Sarah "Sadie" (1889- unknown, but no earlier than 1950), Jacob Nelson (1861-1940), Eliza Ellen (1864-1942) (Stewart) Cawood. Sarah is the daughter of Jacob and Eliza. The Cawoods were originally from Indiana, but made the move to Future City sometime between 1900 and 1920. Jacob Cawood was a teamster (an early version of a trucker), among other labor intensive jobs. The couple resided in Future City until their deaths in the early 1940s.

    Today, Future City is quiet, with little to show for its once thriving past. However, anyone from a small community like Future City, knows that the true town identity lies in its people. Future City tells an account of perseverance, community, and the fight for racial equality. It is in places like these where we see the heart, strength, and resilience of black Americans. These communities hold the key to the progress we have seen in the past century, and should be a motivator for us to push for the progress we still have yet to gain. Places like Future City were only the beginning, and we still have so far to go. Let us learn from their stories, to push for an even better, equal, and safe future in America for all.