Family Newsletter
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 VOL 4

July 2000

     Well, the new format of the newsletter has generated much interest.  Many have written and sent in information for sharing and to help find our family lines.  I have been in contact with a young man out West who was blessed with many pieces of correspondence from Wisconsin and back regarding Rachel, Adam Smith, Caleb Bowman and Cinthay Crye.  He is rich in treasure with these articles.  In the following pages you will find photocopies from one of the pages that he sent me, and then a transcription following for those who find reading it difficult.  I thought this would be such a tremendous treasure to those of us who didn’t have the fortune to inherit such a valuable memory from our past. 
      I have mailed letters to contacts in Arkansas to try to find solid connections and I have been working with a lady in Mass. trying to connect lines there.  Her conversations, letters, and information allowed me to understand one man’s family that I had just overlooked.  Just getting out on the net has opened up many doors and I am finding bits and pieces.   This is very good.
      Let me encourage you to write, keep a journal, and contact those in the family long forgotten.  Simple things written down bless those who are seeking a piece of the past.  For instance, several months ago I found a journal I had kept when my children were first born.  Most days were uneventful and I had written down simple actions.  There were things in this journal I had forgotten, such as when one or the other said their first word.  One entry just talked about small things like my son sitting on the floor, and another entry mentioned my daughter’s laugh.  On a winter day, I had listed all the birds that I was seeing on the ground and at the feeder where we lived.  I wasn’t trying to create anything monumental I just wanted to pass something on to my children.  Yet today, twenty four years after that writing, pleasant memories waft through my mind and heart as I remember.
      Today we attended the funeral of my husband’s great aunt and so much history of his family will be gone.  She held treasures in her heart but couldn’t bring herself to share those secrets with me or anyone else.  She felt the information was just too personal and should die with her.  Well, today all of that is gone and much of what I would have loved to have passed on is buried with her.  Let me encourage you to share your history.  It is important.  Maybe today, begin a journal.  It will touch lives.

Continued from the last issue
Nickname Christian Name(s) Nickname Christian Name(s)

Aley  Elias            Kate, Katie, Katy, Kathie, Kay, Kit, Kitty Katherine, Catherine
Alsey  Alice Kiar Hezekiah
Anna  Hannah Kizzy Keziah
Anna  Johannah Leck Alexander
Anna  Susanna Lena Angelina, Helena, Magdalena Paulina, Selena, et al
App  Absalom Lettie Letitia
Arthur  Merriarter Libby Elizabeth
Bell, Bella, Belle Arabelle, Anabelle, Isabel, Isabella, Rosabel Lige Elijah
Bess, Bessie Elizabeth Lina Angelina, Helena, Magdalena, Paulina, Selena, Et al
Beth Elizabeth Lindy Malinda
Betsy Elizabeth Lise Elizabeth
Betsy, Betty Elizabeth Lish Elisha
Biddy Obedience Liz, Lizzie elizabeth
Bige Abijah Lottie Charlotte
Bitha Tobitha Lovey Malova
Bitsy Elizabeth Lucy Lucinda
Bob, Bobby Robert Mack Mc
Cager Micajah Madge, Maggie Margaret
Celey Drucilla Maisie Margaret, Mary
Cephus Josephus Mamie Mary
Chilles Achilles Marcia America
Cindy Cinthia, Cynthia,  Lucinda Marty, Martie Martha
Daimy Didama Matt Mathias, Matthew
Daisy Margaret Mattie Martha
Delia Adelia, Adele, Cordelia May Mary
Delia Delila Meg, Megan, Meta, Midge Margaret
Dick Richard Mila Camilla
Dobbin Robert Millie, Milly Amelia, Mildred
Docia Theodocia Mima Jemima
Dode, Dody Dorothy, Theodore,  Theodorick Minta Araminta
Dora Dorothy, Eudora,  Theodora Moll, Mollie, Molly Mary
Dyer Jebediah Neely Cornelius
Ed, Eddie, Eddy Edgar, Edmund, Edward, Edwin, Edwina Nell, Nellie, Nelly Eleanor, Elenora
Effie, Effy Euphemia Ellen Helen
Eliza Elizabeth Nellie Eleanor
Eliza Louisa Nervie Minerva
Ella, Ellie Eleanor, Elenora Nicey Eunice
Fannie, Fanny Frances, Frank Francis Nora Elenore, Elenora, Honora, Honoria
Genie Eugenia Ollie Olive, Olivia, Oliver
Greta Margaret, Margaretha Omey Naomi
Hal Harold, Henry Patsy Marsha
Haley Mahala Patsy, Patty Patricia, Patience, Martha
Hank Henry Peg, Peggy Margaret
Hannah Johanna Penny Penelope
Harry Henry Pole Napoleon
Hattie Harriet(t) Polly Mary
Hettie Esther, Henrietta, Hester Rena Lurena, Elvirina
Hetty Esthe Rich, Richey Richard
Hezzie Hezekiah Rinda Clarinda, Lurinda
High Hiram Rob, Robbie, Robby, Robin Robert
Hugh Elihu Rushia Jerusha
Jack Jackson Sadie, Sallie, Sally Sarah
Jack John, Jackie John Sammy Samuel, Samson, Samantha
Jake Jacob Sire Josiah
Jamie James, Jameson Sukie, Suchie, Suchy Susan, Susanna, Susannah
Jenny Jane, Jenny Jane, Janet, Jeanette,  Jennett, Virginia Tad Theodore, Theodorick
Jerry Jeremiah Ted, Teddy Edward
Jim, Jimmy James Thee Theophilus
Jock John Thena Barthena
John Johnnie, Johnny John Theo Theodore, Theodorick
 Josey Joyce Tildy Matilda
Judah Judith  Tillie Matilda, Mathilda
Tempy Temperance
Tina Christina
Trina Catharine


Continued from April 2000

Southerners with land find a ready sale for it, at unheard of prices, which gives them the funds to go elsewhere
Even though land suitable for growing of cotton will usually cost between $15 and $50 per acre, many settlers from the Old South cling to the traditional pattern of going almost due west, because of the great profits that can be made from raising cotton.
Many southerners break the traditional pattern of settling almost straight west of where they had lived before and go instead clear up the Ohio River Valley, settling in southern Ohio, Indiana or Illinois.  This is largely because
1)  Slavery which almost everyone thought was dead, was revitalized because of the need for dependable cotton cultivators, many left the south because of an aversion to slavery;
2) Some left because they didn't like blacks, and because the Northwest Ordinances forbade slavery, they chose to go there;
3) Most who left the south and went to the Ohio Valley probably did so because they were guaranteed that they could obtain what they considered to be exceptional fertile land at no more than $1.25 per acre.
Abrupt departure of many people from New England between 1800 and 1810.
a) Appeal of rich land in upstate NY, now free of most Indian claims.
b) Appeal of land in Ohio Valley, especially northern Ohio, Indiana and Illinois.
c) People moving from New England to Ohio Valley begin raising sheep and agri products, making it difficult for New Englanders with their generally poor soil, to compete.
d) Embargo Act of 1807 destroys the New England shipping industry and the New England economy sags considerably.
e) Much of the traditional New England resistance to individual distant settlement is fading.
f) The introduction of steamboats, which make upriver navigation of the Mississippi and Ohio rivers practical, further enhances the economy of the area west of New England.
The LOUISIANA PURCHASE of 1803 almost doubles the land of the United States, establishes new opportunities for Americans in the far west, and entices many young men to settle, grow cotton, trade, trap and explore.
Additional Factors Leading To The Tremendous Settlement Of The First 50 Years Of The 19th Century.
Canal boom of the 1820s, especially the extremely successful Erie Canal which drastically lowers the cost of east-west shipping.
Changing Indian policy which by 1816 encourages each Indian head of family to select heart broken men--noble looking fellows, very fair with light hair and blue eyes--said they were going back to take up their loved ones and lay the scalps back on their poor cold heads.  640 acres on which to live or move west of Mississippi River and by 1826 tells all Indians east of Mississippi they must remove, thus making much land available, especially for cotton production in the south.
The Adams-Onis Treaty in 1819 gives the U.S. Spain's claim to Florida, but also to the land north of the 42nd parallel (the northern border of California).
American settlement of Texas, beginning in 1823, which leads to Texas independence in 1836, admission to the Union in 1845.
 Development of the railroad as a means of transportation and of encouraging westward movement
American interest in Oregon soars after 1841, with rapid settlement of the Willamette River Valley.
Mormons, dispossessed from their homes in Missouri and Illinois, go first to Iowa, then make a major migration to the Salt Lake Valley in 1847, quickly expanding throughout the Great Basin.
The War with Mexico ends with the Treaty of Guadelupe Hidalgo giving the Southwest to the U.S.
The discovery of large amounts of placer gold in California leads to a major rush there in 1849 and statehood in 1850.
The Pacific Railway Act and Homestead Act in 1862 lead to a further, effective settlement of the west.
The CENSUS of 1890 OFFICIALLY declares that there is no longer a frontier in the U.S.


The following was sent to me from “Tom” who inherited many hand-written artifacts from his family.
What a treasure this story holds.
I hope you enjoy.


    It is only known by two or three people who are living today that there is a battle field ground within five or six miles of Fairchild which ought to be recognized or located by some kind of a mark or monument and a name given to it before the last man who could locate it is dead.  It took place in the fall of 1863, forty-five years ago and I will here give my own personal knowledge and what was told to me by those who were personally engaged in the fight.

    When I was a boy I knew an old hunter by the name of Moses Scott and when I was with the 20th Reg. of Wis. Vols stationed at Springfield, Missouri, I got a letter from Mr. Scott stating that he had moved to Jackson County, Wisconsin and had located on a little creek in the north end of the county and the country was in every way equal to the happy hunting ground where the Indians are all going to when they die.  He had named this creek Scott's Creek.  There was a great wilderness of pine timber reaching to Lake Michigan on the east and to Lake Superior on the north, which was, totally uninhabited excepting by logging companies on the large rivers.

    To make a long story short, my wife and little daughter, with a team and wagon and all necessary camp equipments for camping landed at old Moses Scott's on the 21st day of July 1 863.  The next morning Old Moses took me down the creek about four miles to where Scott's Creek and Flick's Creek come together, making what was called Koon Creek and Flick's Creek come together, making what was called Koon Fork at that time.  Black Creek lost its name then when it reached Flick's Creek.

   Well the next morning July 23rd., 1863, old Moses Scott and his son, Aaron, and myself took our axes and commenced clearing out a wagon route through to the forks of the creek.  After eight days work for each of us, we had a wagon route cut through the dark pine woods to Koon Fork.  Well then I hitched my team to the wagon, piled in all my camp equipments and with my wife and little girl we drove down to the fork of the creek and camped on the bank in the open air that night, but the deer and bears tearing through the brush and the beavers pounding their flat tails on the water, with the howl of the wolves and the continual hoot of hundreds of owls, made it impossible to sleep so I stayed up and kept a fire burning brightly all night.

   Next day we put up a tent and then went to cutting pine logs for a house and I soon had a comfortable log cabin which I made warm---size 12 x 16 feet which was a palace royal to me.  I had peace, liberty and happiness--what more could a man want?  O, wealth--you say--well my friends you are mistaken.  I never kept myself awake at night studying how to get rich.  I got all the necessities of life by hunting trapping and tanning skins which with the excitement of the chase and the exercise necessary in that manner of life, I felt well and happy.  Yes, they were my happiest days but I can't call them back.  Time once past never returns; the moment which is lost is lost forever.

   Well we got our little log cabin all finished up, warm and comfortable, all ready for winter the last day of September and on the morning of October 1st., I took my gun and after crossing the creek on an old pine log, I started in a direction a little north of east and kept in that direction about three miles when I came to what I afterwards named The Upper Pond on Horse Creek.

   When I reached the pond it was dark, cloudy and pouring rain so I returned to camp and on my way to the pond and return I saw forty-five deer and was only out about three hours.  By that you can get some idea how plentiful deer were at that time.  I then went to work making pole traps for catching mink so as to be ready when the trapping season came on which was about the 20th of October so I spent my time hunting and tanning skins until the trapping season so all was quiet for a couple of weeks.  Not the report of a gun heard in the woods excepting my own gun so I had it all to myself until about the 20th of October.  Then one morning while my wife and I were eating breakfast we heard a number of shots fired off toward the east and north east in my hunting ground.  They sounded like old U.S. muskets and I knew it was Indians but after breakfast I went hunting as usual off toward Horse Creek.

   I had gone about a mile when I heard four or five shots near by and in a moment three deer came running toward me and stopped within ten paces of me.  I had my rifle ready and sent a ball through the foremost one.  It ran about fifty yards and fell dead so I walked toward it but heard something crushing the dry leaves and in a moment an Indian came out of the brush and walked up to my deer and laid his gun on it.  When I came up I told him that I had killed the deer and that it was mine but he said "No, me kill 'em".  I took hold of one of its legs and started to drag it, then he gave a shrill whistle on a piece of hollow buckhorn and in a moment I heard a half a dozen answering whistles and a moment later six more big savage looking Indians--from every appearance of the Sioux tribe--were there.  One big fellow fully seven feet tall motioned me with his hand and said "go back" but I did not start immediately so he set his gun against the tree and drew a savage looking tomahawk out of his belt with a handle two and half feet long and started for me.  Well of course as you all know I could have shot him but some of the others would have shot me so under the circumstances just at that time I felt like the Irishman who said he would rather be a living coward than a dead hero, so I turned around and started for home feeling like the underdog in a fight.

   I had gone about half a mile or three quarters when a deer came running by which I shot and killed.  I dragged the deer a couple of hundred yards, got it behind some old pine roots and as the deer was heavy to drag on the naked ground, I hung it up, being too tired to take it to camp that night.  I left it hanging there with the intention of bringing it into camp next morning.  In the morning as soon as it was daylight I started out after my deer, thinking to get there before the Indians found it but when I got to where I hung the deer, I found the legs and head lying on a log but the deer was gone.  Well I cannot here express my feelings; to say that I was mad would be a very tame word.  At that moment I would have fought the seven savages with a will, single-handed.

   Just then I looked up on the side of a hill to the north of where I stood and saw a dark object move behind a big pine tree, then I saw the muzzle of a gun poking toward me.  Involuntarily I sprang to the right just in time to feel the wind from a passing ball on the side of my face and heard it crash into a tree close to my head.  I whirled my gun in a position for defense but when I looked toward the tree I saw no sign of the Indian so I thought he was behind the tree loading his gun and I had no time to fool away.  I ran up to the tree that he had fired from but no Indian was there, then I knew that he had kept a big pine tree between him and me until he got over the hill so I ran to the top of the hill just in time to see him jump over a big pine log and drop down out of sight.  I ran to a pine tree about seventy-five yards from the log that he was behind, then I saw him peek over the log just as I reached the pine tree.

   Nearby was a large pine tree that had been blown down by some large windstorm.  The roots of the old tree were sticking up making a good hiding place.  In a moment I saw his ramrod come up above the log and I knew that he was pushing a ball into his gun.  Taking advantage of that moment, I sprang up behind the old tree roots above spoken of and very soon I saw him poke the muzzle of his gun up on to the log, then his head came in sight so I could see his black eyes.  He was watching the tree that he saw me stop at, waiting for me to poke my head out from behind the tree.  While he was thus engaged I was taking deliberate aim at his ugly head.  Then two reports of rifles--two puffs of smoke and a dead Indian.  His sudden exit to the happy hunting ground caused his gun to fire almost at the same time that mine did.  Knowing that his gun was empty I threw another cartridge into my Spencer rifle and keeping an eye out for other Indians that might be prowling around, I walked down the hill to the old log and there lay the same old fury that had drawn his tomahawk on me.  He was as dead as a last year's snake skin.  I took his gun and hid it under a log about twenty rods away and then started for home and as I went along I said to myself "Old boy, you have gotten your foot in it.  Those other seven devils will be after you so you will have to get out of the woods."

   "When I got near home I saw a horse tied to a tree near the house and when I got to the house I found old Moses Scott there.  He said he had met Jack Wrand who had told him that a Winnebago Indian and two white men had just located a band of seven Sioux Indians and a renegade white man who had murdered a number of families--women and children--and taken their scalps and two of the white men and the Winnebago Indian who had had their families murdered had been on the trail since Minnesota of the murderers for two weeks and had just located them on Dry Run only one mile and half from my camp and that old Jack Rand and Tom Hunt and Jacob Flick, David Powell, all noted hunters and Indian fighters, were to meet at my house that night also the two white men and the Indians whose families had been murdered by the band--making eight men, not counting Old Moses Scott who had been a great hunter in his time but was sixty-five years old then.  When Mr. Scott told me what was coming my wife and I filled a couple of kettles with venison and put them over the fire in order to prepare supper for the giants when they came.

   Jack Wrand was six feet four inches tall and properly proportioned, Tom Hunt was the same height and weighed two hundred pounds, Jacob Flick and David Powell were both six feet and each weighed about one hundred and eighty pounds and all were extremely strong and active.  Any of them would handle a deer with about the same ease that I would handle a rabbit.  Old Mr. Scott was six feet tall and weighed two hundred and twenty-five pounds.  Gishconia, the Winnebago Indian trailer who tracked the band of murderers to earth, was a small man but cunning as the old devil himself, also the two white men who accompanied him were both slender built men.  Well just as it began to grow dark they all came--supper was ready so they were soon all seated around the table which was a large pine log which was lying near the door.

    After supper we changed our table into a seat for the crowd, then they filled their pipes and listened to old Mr. Scott and Jack Wrand telling blood curdling and hair raising stories of wild adventure until nine o'clock.  Then they all started, the Indian trailer taking the lead.  My wife and I stayed up until 11 o'clock and all being quiet we laid down to rest.  I must have gone to sleep immediately, the next thing I knew my wife gave me a push with her hand and said, "listen".  I raised up on my elbow and just then I heard a regular fusillade of shots fired in quick succession--forty or fifty shots fired in less than a minute, then all was quiet as death--not a sound of any kind--even the owls were so frightened at the report of the guns that they ceased to hoot, then we got up and started a fire and began getting breakfast ready for the men when they returned.
 About sunrise we saw old Moses Scott, Jack Wrand, Tom Hunt, Jacob Flick, David Powell coming.  The Indian trailer, Gishconia, the two white men whose families had been murdered were not in sight so I asked Mr. Scott if they had been killed in the fight and he said worse than that, they have got the scalps of their wives and children and the two white men who are Norwegians, are just crying their eyes out over the horrible and heart breaking sight.  I told him to say nothing about the scalps so my wife could hear it, then I walked down the creek and met the bereaved party coming slowly along with tears running down their faces--perfectly heart broken.  I told them to compose themselves as well as they could and say nothing about the scalps as it would frighten my wife.  "Oh, my God, my God" one of them said, just to think that we came clear from Norway to get us homes and now oh merciful Heaven, what will home be to us now!"  The abomination of desolation!  The poor and then let them rest until that great day when they would meet again where cruel death could not part them.

    After breakfast I asked Jack Wrand if they had killed all the Indians and he said no that one of the Indians had got away.  Gishconia said there were seven Indians and one white man and they only found six Indians and the white devil that was with them.  The Indian who made his escape had taken Gishconia's gun that he had left in the wigwam when they murdered his family so I said nothing until they all got through smoking their pipes, then I asked Gishconia to describe his gun to me.  I said I had found a gun the day before which was the 26th day of October.  When he gave me the description of his gun, I knew at once that I could produce his lost gun.  Another thing he said the escaped Indian had with him was a strip of red flannel about four inches wide that they had taken from his squaw which was the very thing that Gishconia tracked them by.  Every place they stopped to get something to eat people noticed that one of the Indians had a strip of red flannel tied around his waist so that strip of red flannel and the white man's boot heel were the main clues for running them to earth.

   After they all rested about an hour and got through smoking, I told Gishconia that I saw a gun that filled the description of his gun lying by a dead Indian the day before and if he would go with me I would show it to him.  When the men heard that they all wanted to go so they got their guns in readiness and we started.  Four of them had twelve shot Henry rifles and the others had double barrelled rifles (the Winchester improvement was not made until three years later).  It is an improvement on the Henry rifle and was first patented in 1866.  Well in less than an hour we came to the log where I hid the gun and sure enough it was the gun that the murderers had taken from Gishconia's wigwam.  Then they all wanted to see the dead Indian and we went on to where the dead Indian lay and sure enough he had the strip of red flannel tied around his waist, so the last of the band of murderers was wiped out of existence.

    After viewing the monstrous savage awhile, we all went back to my little log cabin and talked, rested, smoked and ate venison until next morning, then Gishconia went to Old White Deer's camp and the two poor broken hearted Norwegians started for the wrecked homes on the west side of St. Croix river in Minnesota.  Moses Scott and Jacob Flick requested all the men to say nothing about the battle with the Indians as it would frighten the women and children so that a man would not dare leave them along while he went out hunting and the early settlers who had no money had to get a large part of their living by hunting the wild game so the only thing I ever told to anyone about it was that I found a couple of dead Indians that the eagles and ravens had made skeletons of.

    As all danger of frightening women and children has long since gone by, I will write the story, giving all the particulars truthfully just as it took place.  Myself and perhaps Gishconia are the only ones who knew anything about it who are living now.  Old Moses Scott dies about the last of the 60s and was buried on his own land, later called the MacClaren farm lying just south of Fairchild.  Jacob Flick was shot and killed by a young man mistaking him for a deer.  David Powell went to Texas and died on his way back to Wisconsin.  Jack Wrand went to the Black Hills and got into a fight with grizzly bears and bears and was badly hurt and died soon afterwards, so I heard.

    John Flick who is the son of Jacob Flick told me that old Tom Hunt was also dead, leaving only myself unless Gishconia is living yet who knew anything about the above described fight with the Indians.  A great many bands of Sioux Indians after they had made a raid on the white settlers in Minnesota would cross the St. Croix River and hide in the Wisconsin pinery and pass for Winnebagoes or Chippewas in order to escape the vengeance of the infuriated white men whose families had been so brutally murdered and scalped by them.  History shows that nine hundred families were murdered and scalped by the Sioux Indians between 1857 and 1877.  The next fall there was a great forest fire killing a great deal of pine timber.  After the fire I visited the battle ground but found nothing but a couple of Indians skulls almost eaten up by the squirrels.  I suppose that it is only known by old hunters that the squirrels eat all the bones and deer's horns that they find in the woods.  Make a hole in a buck's horn and nail it fast to an old log this fall and next fall you will find that it has been eaten by the squirrels.  The male deer all shed their horns every winter but you hardly ever find any of them because the squirrels have eaten them.

    In the fall of 1864 Andrew Mechem took a homestead and built a log house just across the street west of where the Charles Foster house now stands and James Hobart and myself are the only living men that I know of that helped to build the first house that ever was erected in Fairchild.  All was quiet and I continued hunting and trapping until the fall of 1870, then the railroad was built through to Augusta and Fairchild was made from the dust of the earth. and the wilderness began to bloom as the rose, but there were thorns on that blooming rose for every rose has a thorn.
Saw mills soon made their appearance and the lofty pines and the wild deer began to disappear and everything was changed in a short time.  I gave up my wild career and now at the age of seventy-six years, I am living peacefully in a home of my own in the little city of Fairchild, Wis. and my daughter is keeping house for me.  My father and mother are sleeping side by side in their last earthly resting place.  My faithful wife and I lived together fifty-two years. then at the age of seventy-two she passed to the great beyond and with her death all the brightness finally faded from my sight and I feel like General Jackson did on his deathbed.  The attending minister asked him if he was prepared for Heaven and his answer was, "I am prepared to go wherever my wife is.  If I go to Heaven and she is not there, it will be hell to me, and if I go to hell and she is there, it will be Heaven to me."  So his last and strongest earthly desire was to meet his wife beyond the grave.  My wife never got over the fright caused by the Missouri mob.

    Well my dear readers you want to know what became of Old Mage--well he lived until he was ninety years old, then he died.  Old Jack Crea (Buckskin Jack) is living yet, but is 88 years old but he can bring a squirrel from the top of a tall tree with a rifle yet.

    Now my dear readers I will bid you good-bye and step down and out.  Hoping to meet you all on the other shore.                                                 JOHN H. SMITH

An old soldier of Company B 20th Reg Wis. Vol.    Considerable time has passed since this was written.  I am now in my 88th year and live in the little city of Lynden, Washington, September 23, 1919.     John H. Smith

August 31, ‘79

Mr J.H. Smith    Dear Sir
It falls my lot to send this solemn news.  Wm T. Smith died August 19th 11 o’clock at knight.  The rest of the consectinor are well.  Yours
Wright soon
J.M. Crye




     Yes, I would like to subscribe to the Crye family newsletter.  My Ggrand father Thomas T. Stewart (b 1871/d1937) married Fannie or Francis Crye (b1872/ d1932) on 12/06/1896 in Claiborne Parish, LA.  Their son which is my grandfather was Thomas Errol Stewart born 10/4/1905 d 6/1/1955.  His wife, my grandmother, was Nodie Eula Traylor born 7/25/1903 d 8/23/1963.  All are buried in the Haynesville Old Town Cemetery.  What I am trying to do is get back further than my g grandfather.  If you have information on my family, I would appreciate it.  Thank You in advance.
     Please add me to your mailing list of the Crye family newsletter.  My g Grandmother was Matielda Ellen Crye Wheeler b July 1863 in Indiana.  She was married to William Harrison Wheeler, b May 1857 in Payne, Ohio.  They had:  Sarah, Richard H, May L., Lola Saloma, Waync C., William McKinley, and Clifford Maywood Wheeler.  If any one knows of this family I would love to hear from them.  My email is  Thank You.