“The End of the Toilsome Journey” – Obituaries

When the paper arrives each morning, many people turn to the obituaries. They are a connection to our communities, a celebration of our neighbors’ lives and perhaps a reminder of our own mortality. Nothing tugs at the heartstrings of a family historian like reading a brittle, yellowed obituary found tucked away in a family Bible.

An obituary can often give a genealogist dates, places and relationships that are difficult to get anywhere else. But sometimes what you find is more of a death notice or news item and they can also be frustratingly brief.

“Mahalah Dickerson died Monday, August 24th, aged 78 years. The remains were taken to a grave near North Salem for interment. Rev. C. W. Bray conducted the funeral service.” – Death notice of Mahalah Dodd Dickerson, 1890

When it came to the deceased’s age, however, some obituaries were very specific.

“The deceased was aged eighty-six years, eight months and twenty-six days.” – Obituary of James Harrison Acton, 1904.

And, sometimes, obituaries gave a little bit too much information.

“For several months he had been in declining health. In the last months of his illness became more critical and alarming, giving his family and physician much concern as to the result. Last Thursday pneumonia developed with such violent force, as to prove fatal.” – Obituary of Henry Jackson Sallee, 1919

As newspapers grew in pages and Victorian sentimentality took hold, obituaries became longer and more expressive. Sometimes excessively so.

“He leaves a large family of children and many relatives and friends to mourn his death; and while the family group is broken on earth, and a once happy home made desolate by the loss of loving parents, we try to console ourselves with the thought that God doeth all things well . . .” – Obituary of Jesse Corbin, 1894.

Religious expressions in obituaries consoled mourning readers with assurances of heaven and the promise of life beyond the grave.

“She died in the triumph and hope of resurrection. When Jesus comes to raise the dead to life in the great day of the Lord we will meet each other there to greet and to praise the Lamb of God.” – Obituary of Serepta Acton, 1893

“He was a member of the M.E. Church and was an efficient member until the Lord said “’Tis enough; come up higher.” He leaves a wife and five children and many relatives and friends to mourn his loss; but their loss is his eternal gain. His children greatly feel the loss of such a friend. He was always ready to make any sacrifice for their good; but now, dear children, he is gone! Forget not his prayers and tears for you, and follow after him as he followed after Jesus.”  – Obituary of Ezekiel Shirley, 1878.

Perhaps as a reaction to the carnage of the Civil War and the sudden violent end of so many lives, obituaries comforted readers with the thoughts that loved ones’ final moments were not in struggle but in acceptance. It became common to read of the deceased being prepared and resigned to his fate.

“Death to him had no terrors; it was an end of a toilsome journey – the gate, that would admit him to the joys of Heaven and the reunion with loves ones passed on before. Conscious to the last, he seemed only bidding friends on earth adieu, to hail those on the other shore.” – Obituary of James T. McDowell, 1881

“Having passed the ‘three score and ten years’ allotted to man and growing weary with life’s burden, he lay down and unreluctantly passed into that dreamless sleep which closes his eyelids still.” – Obituary of Isaac Fickle, 1890.

“When death was stealing upon her she called her father to her and said: “Pa, you always gave me good advice, now I must leave you. I am ready and willing to go, my path is clear.” To her husband she said: You have done all for me you can.” She endured her affliction with pleasure being reconciled to the will of God.”  – Obituary of Armenta Shirley Turner, 1889

My favorite line from an obituary is this one:

“William Allen, an aged man died last Saturday of cancer. He was a gritty old fellow.” – Obituary of William Allen, 1900

Connections:

Mahala Dodd Dickerson – mother-in-law of my 2nd great aunt

James Harrison Acton –  my 2nd great grandfather

Henry Jackson Sallee – my 2nd great uncle

Jesse Corbin – father-in-law of my husband’s 1st cousin 3x removed

Serepta Prather Acton – my 2nd great grandmother

Ezekiel Shirley – my 3rd great grandfather

James T. McDowell – father-in-law of my 1st cousin 3x removed

Isaac Fickle – my 3rd great grandfather

Armenta Shirley Turner –  my 1st cousin 3x removed

William Allen – my 3rd great grandfather

Leona’s Doll

I played with dolls. My first baby doll had all its hair loved off, and by the time I had progressed to Barbie and Ken, she looked pretty worn.  Barbie didn’t fair much better, repeated combing led to some significant hair loss for her, too. But I have one doll that looks pretty good for her age – about 120 years.

China head dolls were made from about 1840 to 1930, often in Germany. The features were molded in porcelain, facial features and hair were painted on and then a glaze applied. The flushed cheeks were meant to present a healthy appearance. Most were blue-eyed and had black hair, only about 25% were blonde. If you couldn’t afford to buy a complete doll, Montgomery Ward and Sears Roebuck sold parts, a head, porcelain feet and hands. Then the buyer sewed the body, often using leather or muslin and  stuffing it with horsehair or cloth.

The original owner of the doll was my great-aunt Leona E. Horlacher, born 15 Feb 1894 to Fina and Samuel Horlacher of Mulberry, Indiana. She was the youngest of three, with siblings Ocia and Claude. She never married.  Leona died in 1964 and that’s when the doll came to me.

When she came into my care the doll had no clothes, just a ragged body. I’m guessing that Leona sewed the body of the doll herself. The arms taper  from the shoulder and end abruptly with no hands. One leg is longer than the other and again, have no appendages at the end.  (I’m not being critical – I hope no one ever examines my childhood sewing.) If there were porcelain hands or feet, they were gone by the time I received the doll.

I found a seamstress that put the doll in a fine outfit complete with pantaloons, petticoat, gown, and suede shoes. She even added a basket of knitting to hide the fact that the doll had no hands.

If Leona received her doll around the age of six or about 1900, then it’s about 120 years old.

And, of course, I’ve named the doll Leona.

Connection: Leona’s brother Claude was my grandfather.