A Scandanavian Skeleton in a Southern Closet
http://www.chronwatch-america.com/articles/3313/1/A-Scandanavian-Skeleton-in-a-Southern-Closet/Page1.html
John Armor
John Armor practiced law in the U.S. Supreme Court for 33 years, and is currently the counsel for the American Civil Rights Union, whose website is at: www.theacru.org. He lives now in Highlands, N. Carolina, and is working on a book about Thomas Paine. By John Armor
Published on 08/3/2008
Experienced writers usually advise beginners that “You write best when you write about what you know.”
From Our Writers:
In more than twelve years of writing this weekly column, I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned the Highlands Writers Group. That is an association of professional writers, semi-pros like me, and gifted amateurs. One of the finest writers in the group is Anne Doggett, who helped to create the group a decade ago. She’s a distant cousin of mine who creates southern people and situations on paper as well as the legendary Eudora Welty. I won’t mention any of the other members for fear of slighting excellent talent.
Suffice to say, there’s enough talent in that group to assemble on one month’s notice an excellent volume of short stories entitled, “Southern Writers and How They Got that Way.” But that’s not what I came to talk about.
The Group has an exercise each Thursday, before the metaphorical bell rings at 2 o’clock and we read the bits and pieces we brought for criticism that week. This week’s exercise produced a piece of mine that in my judgment is worth sharing with you.
About nine months ago, I wrote briefly about my great-great-great grandfather, who was the first member of my mother’s side of the family to come to the New World. He came from Helsinki, which had been conquered by Sweden at that time. He settled in Charleston, South Carolina, and prospered as a merchant.
Then, with a group of investors, he purchased the empty valley where Birmingham, Alabama, is located. His partners in the Elyton Land Company knew that all the elements to produce iron (and later steel) were located in that valley. The city was created in 1871, nearly failed due to a cholera epidemic in 1873, and was followed by a national financial failure lasting three years.
The founders of the city persevered, however. By 1880, Birmingham was shipping out pig iron and coal, on which its prosperity was based. The vision of Charles Linn was confirmed. He is buried in a red stone mausoleum in an old cemetery overlooking the downtown area. Chiseled on its wall is this statement: “On the Day of Judgment I shall walk out of this tomb and see before me a great city.”
One of the youngest members of the group that created that city was John C. Henley, Sr. He married the boss’s daughter, Annie Linn. My mother was named after that lady, her great-grandmother. And two of mother’s descendants, a grand-daughter and a great-grand-daughter, also bear the name Linn, as do various other members of the family.
Okay, you say: Where is the skeleton in the closet?
About four months after I mentioned old Charles Linn in a column, I got an e-mail from Helsinki. The gentlemen who wrote it was a great-great-great grandson of Charles Linn of Helsinki. It seems that my esteemed ancestor was married before he came to America. There is no suggestion of a divorce.
So it seems that before his adventures and success in the New World, he abandoned his wife and family in then-Sweden. And that means that his marriage in America was bigamous, and that his children here were illegitimate. That’s quite a skeleton.
I’ve chosen, so far, not to pursue the details. The reason for restraint is similar to that concerning a story in the family about one of the Parkers from Tennessee. The Parkers were French Huguenots (it's a long story how they wound up in Tennessee). Supposedly, one man in the family was a horse thief who fled Tennessee to avoid hanging. He relocated to Texas, and died with honor at the Alamo.
As with all skeletons in all families, there are reasons not to explore them in too much detail. We could, for instance, find out that that gentleman was merely a horse thief who lit out for parts unknown, and never saw any redemption at the Alamo or anywhere else.
So, it is probably best to let the skeletons be, when the ancestor is at least three generations removed. By then the wrong-doing or nefarious conduct has reduced itself to a curiosity, rather than anything involving police, ministers, or exorcists.
So, that is my exercise for this week. Though we were told our skeletons in the closet could be fictitious, I chose to write about a real one. Experienced writers usually advise beginners that “you write best when you write about what you know.”
Suffice to say, there’s enough talent in that group to assemble on one month’s notice an excellent volume of short stories entitled, “Southern Writers and How They Got that Way.” But that’s not what I came to talk about.
The Group has an exercise each Thursday, before the metaphorical bell rings at 2 o’clock and we read the bits and pieces we brought for criticism that week. This week’s exercise produced a piece of mine that in my judgment is worth sharing with you.
About nine months ago, I wrote briefly about my great-great-great grandfather, who was the first member of my mother’s side of the family to come to the New World. He came from Helsinki, which had been conquered by Sweden at that time. He settled in Charleston, South Carolina, and prospered as a merchant.
Then, with a group of investors, he purchased the empty valley where Birmingham, Alabama, is located. His partners in the Elyton Land Company knew that all the elements to produce iron (and later steel) were located in that valley. The city was created in 1871, nearly failed due to a cholera epidemic in 1873, and was followed by a national financial failure lasting three years.
The founders of the city persevered, however. By 1880, Birmingham was shipping out pig iron and coal, on which its prosperity was based. The vision of Charles Linn was confirmed. He is buried in a red stone mausoleum in an old cemetery overlooking the downtown area. Chiseled on its wall is this statement: “On the Day of Judgment I shall walk out of this tomb and see before me a great city.”
One of the youngest members of the group that created that city was John C. Henley, Sr. He married the boss’s daughter, Annie Linn. My mother was named after that lady, her great-grandmother. And two of mother’s descendants, a grand-daughter and a great-grand-daughter, also bear the name Linn, as do various other members of the family.
Okay, you say: Where is the skeleton in the closet?
About four months after I mentioned old Charles Linn in a column, I got an e-mail from Helsinki. The gentlemen who wrote it was a great-great-great grandson of Charles Linn of Helsinki. It seems that my esteemed ancestor was married before he came to America. There is no suggestion of a divorce.
So it seems that before his adventures and success in the New World, he abandoned his wife and family in then-Sweden. And that means that his marriage in America was bigamous, and that his children here were illegitimate. That’s quite a skeleton.
I’ve chosen, so far, not to pursue the details. The reason for restraint is similar to that concerning a story in the family about one of the Parkers from Tennessee. The Parkers were French Huguenots (it's a long story how they wound up in Tennessee). Supposedly, one man in the family was a horse thief who fled Tennessee to avoid hanging. He relocated to Texas, and died with honor at the Alamo.
As with all skeletons in all families, there are reasons not to explore them in too much detail. We could, for instance, find out that that gentleman was merely a horse thief who lit out for parts unknown, and never saw any redemption at the Alamo or anywhere else.
So, it is probably best to let the skeletons be, when the ancestor is at least three generations removed. By then the wrong-doing or nefarious conduct has reduced itself to a curiosity, rather than anything involving police, ministers, or exorcists.
So, that is my exercise for this week. Though we were told our skeletons in the closet could be fictitious, I chose to write about a real one. Experienced writers usually advise beginners that “you write best when you write about what you know.”