Samuel Gann of Winchester Va Family

From Phyllis Horsman, 1032 River Hills Circle, Chattanooga, TN 37415 (423)756-1924 8/31/96 Compiled and Submitted byRexford C. Alexander rexcalex@bellsouth.net SON OF RIN # 33724 Charles Roscoe & Gertrude Rosetta (Gentry) Gann This account is not intended to slander the name or memory of him; it is based on facts. The vignette is a culmination of conversations by the children and relatives who witnessed, first hand, his true character and reveals a side of him most people never knew! I always try to draw a picture of my subject in my writings and this was difficult. I will be unpopular but “truth” is eternal and unchanging; and, yes, the truth does hurt!” Charles was the eighth of nine children born to Calloway and Eliza Ann (Smith) Gann. He was born in the old homestead, the Gann Field, atop a mountain plateau near Sale Creek , Tennessee . He was the descendant of a Revolutionary War veteran and Indian fighter. The story of Caloway and his family is contained in a separate sketch. Charlie had at least as sixth grade education attested by a certificate. A new school was constructed in Sale Creek and Charles was in the first class of 1908 Charlie, as he was known, was a crop farmer, mechanic, chicken farmer, school caretaker, and a true woodsman. He had rather hunt squirrels, rabbits, turkey, deer, or bee trees than anything. He also did some fishing and, at one time, liked to foxhunt. Although in later years he expounded against the ills of alcohol; strange-coming from someone who used to fire up an old still and run off some "mountain dew" I managed to acquire one of his 5 gallon demi-jugs. In the 1920's he worked for automobile dealers in Chattanooga , Tennessee . He loved to drive the vintage Oldsmobile’s and Buicks. I have a picture of him, with his hat tilted back, driving down McCallie Avenue . He even moved his young family to Flint , Michigan where he worked in the automotive industry but soon returned. In the 1940's he owned his own garage in Sale Creek. He was more of a “shade tree mechanic”. He maintained his own trucks and tractors by extensive use of wire- any type of wire. Everything he had was “wired” together, farm tools, gates to posts, axles, scythe, axe, hoes-everything. He would have loved duct tape. On August 31, 1919 he married a lovely young damsel, Gertrude Rosetta Gentry. They had 7 children. There was Anna Roselyn, Viola Marie, Charles William, Harold Lewis, Paul Thomas (who died when he was almost four), Jack Roscoe, and Joyce Elizabeth. Life was not easy for Gertie and the four oldest children. Photographs reveal a pretty girl who aged rapidly. Staying pregnant most of the time destroyed her health. But most of all, she was the focal point of an abusive tyrant! When you look at the faces of Gertie and the oldest children, you do not see happiness, you see oppression! The Great Depression was in full swing and times were hard. She had one child after another and she aged rapidly in less than 16 years of marriage. Charlie’s treatment of her resulted in no less than 3 abortions. Gertie’s sister was a nurse and supposedly knew how to initialize an abortion-home style. Once a set of twins was aborted in late pregnancy and he buried them in the red clay behind the wash house. The last abortion, performed at Charlie’s insistence, was botched. Infection set in and on January 16, 1935 , the 32 year old mother of six, passed away. Her funeral was held 2 PM, Friday, Jan 18, 1935 at the Sale Creek Presbyterian Church and she was laid to rest in the Welsh Cemetery. The man, who had brutalized her, spent nights lying on her red clay grave wailing and crying. Note: In the 1980’s two of Gertrude’s sisters and a daughter taped a discussion concerning his treatment of Gertie and the abortions. I have the audio tape and it is a candid account of a callous, cruel man. Charlie’s niece, Isobel Troutman, told me she could identify the exact location of the graves of the twins. Many people knewthe facts but said nothing. Her children were devastated! Roselyn was only 14, Viola 13, Charles 11, Harold 10, Jack was almost 7, and Joyce was only 9 months old. Life for the four oldest children, while caring for the two youngest, became a living hell! Orders were given as to what they must accomplish each day and it had better be done! They scrubbed floors even on Sunday. Boys and girls alike, cleared new ground. The children worked the fields, milked, scrubbed, cooked, washed clothes, ironed, did homework, and anything else Charlie had for them to do. He often had them repeat a task even if it did not need it. They had to satisfy his every whim! If Charlie came up the road whistling, that was a sign things might be okay. If not, look out, someone (or everyone) was going to get a thrashing. When he cut a "switch", it was not a small one-it was a long, durable one with the leaves stripped off to inflict more whelps. He did not just cut one, he cut several. He would use one until it broke or wore out and he would grab another and continue. It was applied to any part of the body. He brought blood! On one occasion, he used a chain to whip Charles. He had the idea that if he beat his children into submission, people would say, "Charlie Gann has good kids"! His brother’s wife, Bertha Gann, heard the beating with a chain, came over and threatened to have Charlie jailed if he did not stop the violence. The violence did not stop! Jack and Joyce were never on the receiving end of this particular type of violence. In 1937, he married Mildred Frances Standifer, a divorcee. There was family speculation that he knew her prior to Gertie’s death. She did manage to make Charlie change his abusive habits to a point. Bitterness developed between Mildred and Roselyn primarily because Mildred wanted to be addressed as 'Mama" or “Mother”. Roselyn held her ground and refused because her mother was Gertie and was dead. She married and left home soon after Charlie's remarriage and the other older three as soon as possible. They carried scarred memories with them that never healed. Strife between Charlie, Mildred, and the children still managed to rear its ugly head even until their deaths. It is surprising that any of the children even returned home. Three of them lived here; Viola, Harold, and Charles lived out of state. On occasions, Harold and Charles would visit with their families. They were rough characters and Charlie always had some “preaching” for them. Harold resented it because he knew the <I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">real Charlie Gann. Several instances sealed Harold’s ill feelings toward his dad. One of Harold’s children died and he was financially stricken. He called Charlie requesting a loan to bury his child. The request was denied and the division between them widened. Still, Harold wanted his children to know something good about the family. Harold brought his son, Allen, down for a visit. He had told Allen about the fishing holes in the creek where Charlie had taken him. Apparently this was one bright spot in their relationship. Harold told his Dad, “Allen would like to go up and fish in the creek”! Charlie responded, “Well, you know where it is”! Harold and Allen left town. In January 1979, 1 went to Cincinnati and found Harold. We sat in the New Center I and had a few drinks. The subject of Granddaddy came up. Harold at first said, “He was a hard taskmaster”! With a few more Stroh’s beers under his belt, he declared, “Charlie Gann was a hard Son of a Bitch’! The true feeling had come out and well-said! Harold said he might consider coming home as long as his dad “did not preach to him” and those are the exact words I relayed to my Grandparents. Harold did not come home for the funeral of either of them. He did come home a few years before he died. Charlie was active in the Lion's Club, a reputable organization in the Sale Creek area. He was also an active Freemason, and attained the highest office in a Sale Creek Lodge 280 F&AM, that of Master, which is a badge of distinction. He and Mildred were members of the Sale Creek Order of the Eastern Star. The Masonic fraternity promotes the belief in God, high moral values and all that is good. Did Sale Creek really know the man? Some of them did. How can a man be a good Master Mason, Eastern Star member, and Methodist Christian, and yet have been so cruel to his wife and their children? The answer, they did not know him well enough. Good ole Brother Charlie and Sister Mildred were just wonderful people! How did he justify being a member of fine organizations yet travel at night and administer punishment to “sorry” residents while he was hidden underneath his Ku Klux Klan cape and robe? Charlie was a member of the local Ku Klux Klan, known for burning crosses as scare tactic’s or as warning’s and using a blacksnake whip on citizen’s who abused their family. The caped “Regulator’s” meted out punishment for any violation of accepted behavior as they saw fit. In the 1940’s and ‘50’s, it was common to see an evening or nightly procession of vehicle’s with license plates covered and hooded figure’s going to a “meeting”. He and nephew, Arnold Troutman, kept their robes and hood’s at the Troutman home. The entire Troutman family and Charlie’s wife, Mildred, knew of it. If someone visited and Charlie wasn’t there, she would always say, “Charlie had gone to a “meeting”. I wonder which one, Church, Masonic, or KKK! He should have been on the receiving end of the whip lash!! I never felt any warmth in that home. I don’t know why. I saw love and attention showered upon the relatives of Mildred but not Charlie’s-well, some of them. I can candidly state, “The home of Charles and Mildred Gann was the coldest atmosphere I have ever been in”! I never felt comfortable, relaxed, or enjoyable in my visits except when Jack was there. I made myself go because he was my grandfather and because of my mother.I remember going over there one winter. Granddaddy had a long handled popcorn which he held over the fireplace flames and shook it slowly as it popped. They would then, sparingly, salt it and we ate good, old-fashioned scorched popcorn. Back then, that’s the only way you could get it. At age 10, being inquisitive and not knowing a lot about popcorn, I asked, “Where do you get popcorn”? That brought a hearty “Haw! Haw! Haw! Honey (he called everybody Honey), you grow it. Haw! Haw! Haw!”! I asked him very few questions after that. Christmas was always a fun time (sic)-I always knew what I would get. We would go down to the Methodist Church, listen to the singing of carols, then watch Oliver Standifer (I mean Santa) hand out our presents. Of course the presents were from our grandparents but we were supposed to be dumb enough not to know that. I could hardly wait to get my 25 cent mechanical pencil (Yawn) mainly to see what color it would be that year. My brother, Ed, and I had to spend a summer week with them once. While there, I climbed up a “sarvis” (serviceberry) tree to get some berries. A medium size limb broke off and Granddaddy made me eat every last “sarvis” on the limb. There must have been a lesson in there somewhere. We were not bad kid, especially there, but it was like jail! Grandma made us go to bed immediately after supper ( 6 PM ) and we were warned “not to say one word”. She was always cold towards Ed and me. We had to tiptoe around her and felt like we were being watched. She made us very uncomfortable. When Carol and I told them we were marrying in 1970, she remarked to someone, “Well, I hope he told her he was divorced!” That’s pretty good for someone who had been married to a man who committed murder-and knew the details. The Gann’s lived a modest life; one that could not be easily understood today. For many years, they had a cistern near the house. If you have never tasted cistern water-don’t! It is water which runs off from the house into a cavern, usually lined with concrete and drawn up by a bucket. The water bucket with a dipper was always beside the back door of the home. Near it were the lye soap, pan, and comb for “washing up” when he came in. The hand pump replaced the water bucket, and it was replaced with indoor plumbing in the late 50’s. An outhouse was essential, even after a well was drilled and plumbing was installed. It was down near the corn crib. In the 1920’s, they had a Delco lighting system. A gas generator charged acid batteries in glass jars. The charged system then lit incandescent bulbs. Many years later commercial electricity was installed but they never got used to anything over 40-60 watt bulbs. They also had a gas refrigerator. Say what? One thing I can say is their house was clean until they were unable to keep it so. Charlie was aware of modem conveniences but often utilized them in some unusual ways. He had read about smoke alarms. Since his heat came from a big wood burning stove and his home was a wood frame structure he knew he should have early detection in case of fire. He installed his “fire alarm” on a ledge near where the stove pipe of his stove entered the chimney. It was a live 12 gauge shotgun shell! He figured if it ever went off they should evacuate the building. Well, at least there was no battery to replace every 6 months. Charlie Gann believed in recycling. He wore brogans (high top shoes). My dad threw away old WWII combat boots that had two buckles above the foot part. Charlie cut off the buckle part and riveted them on to his brogans thereby making brogan boots. It worked for him! When store-bought flyswats (sic) broke, he just flattened out some old screen wire around the handle part. He sent many a fly to the (un)happy hunting grounds. He spent many, many hours sitting out in his glider (you know what a glider is- or do you?), reading his Bible, dozing, and swatting flies. You could always recognize him; he was the one with the sweat-stained felt hat with a hole in the point of the crown. I never knew if the hole was cut out for ventilation, if something chewed it out, he just wore it out. But that was him. He was never far from his favorite hat, even when he died. Charlie’s farm was a natural habitat for junk. The house had been built in the early 1900’s and an addition had been added. I don’t know when the metal roof was put on (before I was born) and it had never been replaced. Each year or so another coat of tar was applied. It must have been 2 inches thick but it didn’t leak. Nothing was ever thrown away. “Now, Honey, we might need that some day” was Charlie’s reasoning-and he was right. In the 1990’s there were still old magnetos from cars of the 20’s. Old worn-out farm machinery had rusted in place. His hammer handle would break and rather than buy a new one, just rasp the old one off and drive nails in the end to hold the head on. His post-hole diggers had a wooden handle on one side and a piece of water pipe in the other. His 1950 vintage Ford tractor had wire (any kind) holding it together. Charlie was short of stature but strong as an ox. Hard work had honed his muscles to steel even when he was in his 60’s. He loved to go bee hunting, He and whoever was with him would go to the mountains, use a mixture of honey and water, scatter it in the wind with a small limb or blow it out through the mouth. They would then wait for the bees to come in to feed, follow the path of the bees, find the tree, and cut it down. Often the tree was 36 inches in diameter and usually an oak. Sharp axes, matches, rich pine, and rags were necessities. They split the tree exposing the honey, fought the bees with smoke, removed the honey comb, and carried it back to the truck. Lugging one or two 5 gallon buckets full of honey is back-breaking work-for anyone. Adding rough, steep terrain and often a mile back to the truck often made them wonder if wild honey was worth it. But Charlie did it. Whether carrying, lifting, or walking, Charlie was always in front. It was always felt that a show of strength was his way of making up for his short stature. He apparently inherited the true pioneer spirit from his Gann ancestors for he was as pure a woodsman as I ever knew. He prided himself in his hunting abilities, but there was one time he was speechless. Once I was 14 years of age and could carry a gun, we went squirrel hunting out at the Gann Field. He carried a double barrel 12 gauge shotgun and had shot at a squirrel but had forgotten to put the safety on. We met later and he was pointing to the ground near my foot to show me where the old “Gann Spring” used to be. The gun fired almost shooting me in the foot. It unnerved him and he never got over that. But it wasn’t all bad though. Water started bubbling up out of the ground. He was right on target. As I stated, he was strong! A young man, Paul Lawson, was a potential suitor of Viola. Charlie objected to that. One fine day, his meddling brother, Richard, drove over to tell Charlie that Paul was with Viola, Roselyn, and Mark. As the young people walked along the red clay road approaching the Gann house, Charlie came over the little hill. He beat Paul with his fists then, to add insult to injury; he threw Paul into a briar patch. Yeah, Bre’r Charlie dun flung Bre’r Paul in de briar patch. It hurts to even think about it. Charlie’s older brother, Richard, always found ways to put Charlie down. He had recently made a disparaging remark concerning Mildred; Charlie wasn’t feeling particularly brotherly. The next Sunday, they both sat in the Methodist Church Sunday School Class. The teacher was discussing the lesson and asked Brother Charlie what he thought about a subject. Charlie always had a philosophical thought about everything and he proceeded to expound in his slow, deliberate manner. Richard looked over and said, “Charlie, why don’t you just shut up”! With that, Charlie’s fist of steel met with Richard’s hard head. POW! Right on target! Brother Charlie decked Brother Richard! Charlie’s son, Jack, and Richard’s son, Corky, looked at each other as if to say, “Shall you and I continue this fight outside”? Nah!! Now, who said Methodist church service’s were boring? He considered himself a carpenter but he was more like a “cobbler”. He “cobbled” things up rather than fix them properly. Dad hired him, by the hour, to repair fences and a horse barn. He spent more time exploring all of the buildings than working. There could be a keg of good nails there and he insisted on straightening old rusty ones and trying to drive them. He tried to build horse stalls using 2 inch nails to secure a 2-x4 in place. If someone else was hired to lead a larger project, Charlie would hold a “meeting” to see where a nail should go. When he and Mark were working together in a big barn while the summer heat was sweltering, Mark turned on a big fan for relief. Naturally, Charlie had his “Haw, Haw, Haw!” Implying Mark was not tough enough. Just a few minutes later you could get him out from in front of that fan. Charlie owned several vehicles; He preferred pickup trucks. Being a shade tree mechanic, he performed his own repairs. One particular truck was an early 1960 truck which he never drove over 35 miles an hour. He and Mildred had been involved in 3 accidents and he wasn’t about to have another one. Traffic would back up for 5 miles behind him but he did not care. He would not exceed 35 miles per hour in a 55 mph zone. Once his son, Jack, drove the truck and he was determined to blow the carbon out of it. He told my dad, “I put the accelerator to the floor! 35 miles per hour was <I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">all it will do”! They had a big laugh about it. Oh yes, I mentioned he never threw anything away. Well, after he died, we went over to get some things. I was out in the garage dodging spider webs, etc and planted my right boot down in a cut-off bucket full of old, black 30 weight motor oil-right where he left it. At least my right boot was waterproof for a while. Although they appeared as folks who just "got by", they had amassed in excess of $125,000.00. Yet, they readily accepted and apparently appreciated groceries purchased for them. Their secrecy of financial holdings was a surprise to the some of the family. They were not really knowledgeable of legalities concerning Bonds, Probate, Wills, etc, Money was found in cans in the house and it would surprise no one to find money buried around the home today. Roselyn vividly recalled another instance concerning money at the Gann’s. Soon after Gertie died, her mother, Rosa , had a <I style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">dream that Gertie had hidden some money in the floor of their bedroom. She came to the house, removed one or two boards from the floor, and sure enough- there it was. No matter what he was, he was well-read. He kept up on current events and history. He was knowledgeable about a lot of subjects. When we went overseas, he inquired about the soil, people, and food there. He was never in the military. He was inducted and discharged the same day. He never really quite caught on to the military services. I spent 23 years in the Air Force, and he always asked me, "Honey, how are things in the Army "? How the heck would I know? But I told him everything was fine. After Mildred died in 1990, his health deteriorated. Eventually, he went to live in a Rest Home. After some months, he returned home on weekends. The family wasn’t too happy with my interference. I assumed the responsibility to go get him and take him back. The family made sure he had comfortable living conditions and food. I made sure the water heater was on and he had plenty of fire wood. He was so happy. He enjoyed the freedom and visits of friends and family. Finally, in the spring of 1991, he made the decision to come back to his home of over 80 years. In July of that year, he passed away in the place that brought him peace-his home. He was found outside reclining against a pile of wood he had been splitting for the upcoming winter. His thinning, white hair lay across his head and his old battered felt hat (with the hole in the crown) rested behind him. His shoes, with loose laces, were relaxed and pointed outward. His ax lay on the chopping block. He lay quietly as the sweet smell of summer flowers wafted in the breeze. Birds sang and bees buzzed through the air. He had crossed over into the afterlife and he will be judged by his Creator who decides where he will spend eternity-heaven or hell. Charles Roscoe Gann would have been 93 on his next birthday. He had lived through an era of invention. He witnessed the advent of automobiles, airplanes, telephones, computers, and space exploration. He saw muddy roads turn into major highways. He traveled to numerous states in his life and lived during the terms of 17 presidents. His life spanned over 11 decades from the 1890's into the 1990's. That, in itself, is extraordinary. Whatever he was, he is still a major part of our Gann heritage. He was loved by those who knew him and disliked, loathed, or tolerated by those who knew what he was. May God have mercy on his soul!