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Helen Beatrice Jenkins Davis: Columbus, OH

25 Thursday Jun 2020

Posted by Jeannine Vegh in Ohio Women

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

African-American, education, Family, History, Ohio, Ohio History, Ohio Women, Ohio Womens History, slavery, teacher, Women, Women's History

Ms. Helen Beatrice Jenkins was born July 28, 1894, in Columbus, Ohio, the 12th of 13 children of Sallie and William George (Billy) Jenkins. Helen’s father was born into slavery in 1849. After the end of the civil war and slavery, William Jenkins moved to Jamestown, Ohio where he met and married Sallie.

Ms. Jenkins grew up on Spring Street, in an area that is presently part of Martin Luther King Drive. Helen graduated from the Columbus Normal School, in the top five percent of her class; and continued her education at Ohio State and Capital Universities. Discriminatory practices within the public educational system caused a delay of approximately two years before Davis’ appointment to a teaching position in the
Columbus Public Schools in 1918. She was among the first Black teachers, in the first integrated Columbus Public School, Spring Street Elementary. Helen B. Jenkins Davis’ teaching career spanned over 37 years; and she retired in 1954.

In January of 1932, Helen married Raymond Davis, a Physical Therapist. They built one of the early homes in the Lucy Depp addition, north of O’Shaughnessy Dam, on land that belonged to the freed slave Abraham Depp for over one hundred years. Their marriage ended in divorce after twenty-three years.

In 1976, Mrs. Davis was a star witness who testified in Judge Robert Duncan’s Federal District Court, in a discrimination lawsuit filed against the Columbus Public Schools. She spoke of the inequality of teacher assignments and the unequal distribution of books and supplies in predominantly Black Columbus schools.

Mrs. Davis was an extremely well traveled woman who believed in the possibilities of education and exposure. Helen regularly shared memories and her travels through photos, books and stories. A perseverant and spiritually uplifting woman, who appreciated and recognized the hard work of others, Helen was active member of the
Second Baptist Church, until her death. She was also responsible for organizing senior citizens to help stuff more than two thousand envelopes supporting a Columbus School levy.

Mrs. Davis is remembered for her love of children, keen sense of competition, strict discipline, and delightful sense of humor. There are those who knew her as their sphere of influence, encouraging them to complete their education and contribute to that making lives worthwhile. Helen Jenkins Davis encouraged young people to “Strive for Super
Excellence!”

Mrs. Davis lived an extremely healthy lifestyle, eating healthy, growing many of her own vegetables and entering them into Ohio State Fair competition, and studying the benefits of vitamins and herbs. Helen Beatrice Jenkins Davis’ healthy living served her well, as she
lived to be 93 years old. Mrs. Davis died on June 28, 1987.

Guest Author:

Gwendolyn C. Williams-Wade, B.Ed., M.Ed.

Professional Counselor

Project: Education Access

 

For more information about the scholarship or the organization contact Gwendolyn here.

(614) 560-1343
gcwwade820@gmail.com

 

 

An article about Ms. Davis in the Columbus Dispatch from one year ago.

 

 

 

 

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Genealogy for Christmas

08 Sunday Dec 2019

Posted by Jeannine Vegh in Miss Elaine E. Usz

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

American History, ancestry, descendants, Family, genealogy, History, immigrants, Men, Women

Genealogy is a weird word to spell and I have to look it up every single time! Our language is weird period and I have heard it is one of the most difficult to learn. But, learning to speak French is even more bizarre to me, especially when you look at how they say their numbers past 40. C’est la vie! As we embark upon the Christmas holidays and, for me, four years into running this blog post, I felt it would be important to address genealogy and its importance.

Christmas is one of the top holidays celebrated around the world, next to the Day of

Mary E. Chase-Vail, she died the year this was taken so it was probably the last photo of her.

the Dead (which Americans call Halloween and don’t celebrate in the original style). While Christmas is a Christian holiday traditionally, many non-denominational people celebrate as well. It is just so much fun. It is a sacred family tradition one way or another and now, as families are splitting up and moving all over the place and mixing with various races, cultures and classes; the family tree has turned into a hybrid and has come a long way from where it began.

This is why it is important now to do a DNA and collect the family data so that your descendants will have some idea of what their roots are. Christmas is when Ancestry.com slashes the costs in half and you can get your DNA kit for a lower price while the season lasts. Christmas is when you often have a ton of people together and can ask the questions, write the names on the back of the photos and start scanning them in the computer and attaching them to your tree.

I use Family Search – it is free. I use Ancestry.com because I started there and have most of my data on there (before I learned about the former). There are lots of other databases but I think these two can be used together. Both for research though I don’t believe it is possible to take something from one and send to the other. Nonetheless, it is a tool to begin your work.

A secret still buried with the last guy who is next to my Grandma.

Genealogy is a lot of fun because you begin to understand YOUR whole picture. You see what your ancestors looked like; demographics or photos, financial aspects, jobs, etc…one way or another you can get a story. I have actually written stories about each of the people on my tree that I knew well. I want their memories to remain alive so that others will have a sense of who they were (from my perspective naturally). When I go to a gravesite and see an ancestor, I feel their spirit reaching out and sense the connection (say the name out loud and open yourself up to their presence). I imagine what the funeral might have looked like.

My Great Grandmother with my mother and uncle.

It is important to also do a psychological profile if you can (for mental health family trees) and a medical profile (which you can gather from your DNA report). With a psychological profile, you want to write down what the person’s diagnosis was or you think it was (make a note of whether or not they were diagnosed or this is your belief). Write down what they did for a living. This is important as it can give clues to why they might have had the mental health issues that they did. For example: veteran – PTSD or TBI possibly, coal miner – lung disease or cancer but this might have also led to mental health issues. Write down things such as whether or not they were divorced or had multiple marriages. Collect and write any pertinent information that might be relevant – even if it seems strange. After you have gathered as much as you can about various members of your family, you will begin to see a pattern. On my paternal side of the family there are about five generations of single mothers which is highly significant when you look at depression or personality disorders (as a possibility). It then says something about their children’s mental health issues.

By day I am a psychotherapist and I often support people (especially adoptive clients) into doing their DNA. Often people report they are scared. They feel that they are opening a can of worms – which they will be. Their stories however, provide answers and give closure. This helps them to build empathy. One person found long lost relatives and saw what they (the client) looked like. One person found they were very healthy which pleased them to no end. Sometimes they are shocked – a presentation that I went to of young people doing their genealogy – a boy learned that his grandfather was not blood related. That is sad but then he found out who he really was at the same time. History doesn’t need to cause you to stop loving someone. History opens up a window to show you a whole new world of knowledge that you can do with as you choose. Choose wisely though as these are your ancestors.

My maternal grandfather’s mother was divorced when she died. Her own grandchildren had no idea of this because they had never met her. This didn’t bother me as much as it did them because I had no attachment to it. In fact, it was just one more secret to add to the list we already had and helped me to understand my psychological picture on a much broader scale. I am not surprised about anything anymore.

The fun thing I learned is that I am related to Daniel Boone through his brother Charles and then it stopped with his niece because as a woman, her name ends. I used to watch this show as a kid and absolutely loved Fess Parker (the actor who played him). I even stayed at his (Fess Parker’s) hotel in Santa Barbara once. There are these intricate moments that are symbolic and add to the richness of who you are.

My stepfather (who adopted me at 9) next to his mother in Hungary.

As a word of caution in our Politically Correct world of ancestry destroyers, be proud of who you are. It doesn’t matter that your ancestors were slave holders or Nazis, because this does not define you now. Unless you personally are involved in human trafficking or anti-semitic actions in this day in age, you are not bad because they did something bad. Would you blame yourself if you were related to Attila the Hun? What if you were related to Pontius Pilot? Some people find that type of history exciting but it is no different. You were not there, you did not make those actions occur.

Sarah Winchester (in San Jose, The Winchester Mystery House), spent the final years of her life plagued with nightmares about her (husband’s) families gun legacy, who’s fortune she inherited. She was a little closer to this knowledge but she still was not to blame. Her family was not to blame either for an invention that people used for good and bad reasons. Many people fed their families hunting with a Winchester Rifle. Unfortunately, her unconscious mind only focused on those who perished in battles. It is not confusing to me though because when she began to have these dreams, she had left the east coast for the west. This was after her child and husband died. She was grief stricken and a lonely woman in the end. She became obsessed with a compulsion to remodel her home, based on the dreams she had. In reality, she had construction workers around her house 24/7, so she was never by herself. She was a philanthropist in the community and well known and loved by locals then. Her mental health is often the butt of jokes but I felt that the woman who lived there was very sane. Being a woman who lives alone, I can empathize and resonate with what her life might have been like. Being a therapist, I do understand racing thoughts and how some people, when vulnerable, and without a professional to speak with can allow their minds to overpower them.

My birth paternal grandmother and step-grandfather. Lots of secrets with the Dunigan side of the family.

There is always a story. There is a path to understanding these stories if we are open to researching this. History was about choices based on the society that the person lived in. Today is about choices based on our environment now which will be judged one day when our descendants look back at us – I guarantee you. You may think you live a great life but they may think you are a fool – based on whatever society is like then. Live your life consciously and in a way that makes sense to you, as long as you bring no harm to others (intentionally). Take that DNA test and begin your adventure today. You will be richer for having done so no matter what you find.

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Days Gone By

06 Saturday Jul 2019

Posted by Jeannine Vegh in Miss Elaine E. Usz

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Tags

Elders, Ethics, Family, Farming, Grandparents, History, immigrants, marriage, Ohio History, Ohio Women, Parenting, Respect, Responsibility, Values, Women, Workers, Young Women

Mabel Snider Vail

I have not written anything significant since returning to Ohio. Am I really a writer or was I just walking down memory lane in California and trying to keep everything I remembered about Ohio from slipping away. From dying forever. Returning to Ohio, it is all dead and gone and buried and will never return again. The fact of this is too difficult to bear. I must bear it because I don’t have a choice in this matter. Yet, I yearn for better times, more decent times. I yearn for people to remind younger ones of these things and for them to listen. But they don’t because their parents don’t teach them to have respect for their elders.

There is so much to learn from your elders. So many stories, history, life in simpler times, ways in which people behaved, values, and there is strength in learning these things and a sense of pride that you begin to embody when you know this. When I look at our life today, it is as if everyone has given up and retreated into social media caves that they daren’t go out and behave like civilized people in society. And yet, they will attend an event, if it means a social media “moment.” Everything must be a social media moment in today’s culture because we can’t just enjoy that time with our friends or even complete strangers as we grow and learn as people. Everything must be shared. Perhaps they want to make sure, like I do, that history isn’t forgotten this time. And yet, history, what we do know and what was documented is precious simply because it is rare – the documentation – and only certain things were preserved. Certain things lasted because it was stored properly or because the universe deemed we would have this memory and somehow, miraculously, that one thing survived.

Lazarus women at work, Columbus, OH

I want to remember the smell of the grass out in the country, which seemed to smell differently when there were no chemicals in the ground (from Monsanto type companies) and it was just pure and native and normal. When cornstalks were not tightly grown together and you could actually walk through the fields of corn and play hide and seek or have a romantic lover’s tryst. I want to go to bed listening to the crickets in the field and let this be my lullaby rather than my Ipad playing synthesized music on the meditation app. I want to see young girls dressed in little dresses with black patent leather shoes, hats and tiny purses just to go to the movies or shopping with grandma. Not girls who wear generic clothes that look like they are from the thrift shop so that no one can guess what their sex is or because mom doesn’t care because no one cares. I want to go out in clothing that says “Me” and makes women envious and men turn their heads. And yet, I want to compete with other women as we admire each other’s choice of style and fashionable creation. Instead, everyone dresses like slobs in jeans and t-shirts and men look like a plumber or a farmer or a factory worker. Though in my day, no factory would hire them dressed like people are today. You wouldn’t even be hired as a farmer or an electrician because a guy dressed like he is today would be seen as irresponsible and lazy and weak and they would be right.

I’d like to go to a fair where it is just simple and people are laughing and older women have their summer best dresses on with hats and simple shoes and are walking and talking together about their times long ago. Young people are with their parents (2) learning the rules of what will happen that day and how many tickets they can [afford to buy] for rides. The families walk together, children respecting their parents and waiting to see what decisions their parents will make. Eager with anticipation of what is allowed or not.

I’d like to walk around to a store that I can get to from my house. A store that I walk to, simply to get out of the house and take a walk. Maybe I look around, maybe I buy something, mainly I talk to the shopkeeper about the town and what has been happening that week. I might stop at the grocer’s and pick up something I need. Instead, I drive to the gym and workout and take my shower. I drive to the grocer’s, too far because it is the better neighborhood for shopping and I trust the produce there. I will be with decent people here and not the one’s closer to my home. My home is in a nice neighborhood but on the outskirts of our little village it is not. It is dangerous and not a fun place to walk and go shopping. The stores in walking distance probably sell drugs on the side, or their customers do and I don’t want to be near this or associated with this. I wasn’t raised this way and I’d rather read about it in the police news as to what action they accomplished for the week. Reading this news helps me to feel safer in my little nook of the world. From the time I was able to ride my two wheel bike (without emergency wheels), I was running errands for my mom in town, where we lived. I felt so free and independent doing this shopping and being held responsible. I would see other children doing errands for their parents and we waved and acknowledged with a look that we were aware of our important deeds for the day.

I would love to go in a business and see professional people working there.  People who take their jobs seriously because they are glad to have a job. Environments where the customer is taken seriously and looked up to because they are the key to the business becoming bigger and stronger. The customer is key to the employee proving how good they are at what they do. Instead, I see people dressed like slobs who could care less whether you are there or not. They make their obligatory “welcomes” which you feel are inauthentic just by the way they pronounce the words “Can I help you with something?” They could really care less about helping you, they are just counting the minutes to break or lunch or closing time so they can get home and follow their media. Of course sometimes, you can see people in businesses looking at their media when they are supposed to be working. They don’t even wait to go home because media is more important than their job. When you went into a business, in the past, you felt you were wealthy and important. The butcher, the baker, the retailer, the TV salesman, they were all greeting you in a spontaneous and unique and authentic way that was meant for you. If they knew you well, they were greeting a friend and you would have a chat without even mentioning what you were there for, for quite some time. Your friendship was equally important to your sale. If you bought something, you might get a discount or a little extra.

I would love to see children playing outside, like the ones across my street. Mom sits out on her lounge chair, with her bathing suit and portable stereo next to her. The kids drench each other with the hose and laugh and scream when the cold water hits them. They run around and play tag or they skip rope or play hopscotch or ride bikes in circles in front of their house – all within the view of mom. When we got older we went out on our own in sets, pairs or groups and we talked about people that we saw around us. We might also sit in our backyards and pretend to get a tan, even though the sun would burn us and give our friend a nice olive complexion. We’d gossip about boys and talk about other girls and what they did and didn’t do. We’d share activities we had gotten up to with our families. Sometimes we might scold each other for a way in which we had behaved and teach each other what would have been more proper. We’d envy each other’s clothes or shoes or the way the other did their nails or their hair. We’d talk about our futures. This was what friendship was for. It was real and in person and honest and silly but sacred. No one knew about what happened except the person or persons who were right there in that moment. It didn’t matter.

I loved going to restaurants where the level of cleanliness was taken for granted, not something you had to be careful of. The food was homemade by some immigrant from a European background. You dressed for the style of the restaurant and the waiters and waitresses were in uniforms – no matter where you went. Your order was important to them and they took care to get it right. Their boss would always be observing and noting and remarking to them later what they needed to do differently.  It was a place you went to on a special occasion, not because you were too lazy to cook. You treated this outing special and you knew to behave special. Everyone had their place and their role.

Marzetti’s restaurant Columbus, Ohio

In fact, no matter where you went, people wore uniforms and knew their place and their role. Whether it was carpenters or garbage men or postal men or waitresses or secretaries or receptionists, you wore a professional uniform or style that was indicative of the business you served. These employees had respect for themselves and showed this in their manner of dress. By dressing in a decent way, even if you were the trash man, you appreciated your job and took pride in what you did for a living. Even the gas station attendant wore a uniform and smiled authentically as you pulled your car up. They were happy to look under the hood. Often these were young people doing the services of the day. Their first jobs and they knew it was not forever or even if it was, they had dreams of what they would accomplish one day. They might take over the gas station once the old man retired. They might go on to study some trade at school or college; once they earned enough to help their parents pay tuition. They might just be thinking about buying their first car or taking that special someone on a date. The job was a place of building and creating yourself. Your boss was someone who showed you the way and one day you would go back and thank him or her for that first start out in life.

Even though I don’t go to church anymore, because I am not of that faith, I admired the way we all diligently walked in the door and sat in our “assigned” seats. Everyone seemed to have a certain time in which they arrived and a seat that they liked the best. I always enjoyed passing other churches on the way to ours and observing the styles women chose for that day. I secretly envied the shoes and made notes in my head as to what the style was should I ever be able to afford them. In church, there were unwritten rules. You didn’t turn around to see who had just come in (but kids did). Some older folks still followed rules of women on one side and men on the other. Some did not. Some were widows or widowers and they were fond of little children. After the service we went downstairs and socialized and drank coffee (the adults did and from a tall percolator). They discussed their lives or the sermon or matters of the church. The kids ran around. Sometimes we might be allowed to walk down the street to the bakery and get a donut. One, mind you, per person. Church was a sacred place that people respected and they respected themselves and the manner in which they arrived and dressed. Now it is a jeans and flip flop place with guitar players instead of organists and it is about fitting in with society rather than having values that had been passed down from one generation to the next. It gives people a sense of belonging but has fallen apart. Churches are shutting down all over the country and are in such disrepair. No matter how desperately they try to fit in, ultimately, there is no need for them when it is easier to stay home and sleep in. To not have a belief but to self-soothe with too many cookies or candy or soda or chips and have the waistline get larger and larger. Single parent families are more and more of what is normal because there were no values taught to them in the first place. Marriage is about sex and having fun rather than waiting and building a foundation.

Women’s Guild, Hungarian church, Columbus, OH

I miss going to grandma’s house and seeing the aunts and uncles sitting around her, waiting their turn to speak. Her home was where you knew to behave differently than your own home. You behaved like you were in a castle and the queen had walked in the room. She dressed nicely, you had the best manners, you ate what you were served, you played quietly, you spoke when you were addressed. It was formal but taught us to respect ourselves. When I look back on these times now, I see that the discipline was very important in making me the person that I am today. While it may have been a little too strict at times, I still value the meaning of the lesson. I know it can be taught in a nicer way now and even a strict way without the use of belts and paddles. Yet, people don’t do this. They entitle their children because it is easier to pacify them rather than stand firm and set limits and teach boundaries and begin to watch them grow into responsible people. It takes too much work to build a fine young man or lady. You can’t let the child get away with anything. When you do, it is too late and they will continue to take advantage. Teaching children how to behave gives them a sense of respect for themselves, for you, for society and helps them to know their place in the world. They grow up to behave properly around others and have respect for their environments and dress professionally and decently while in public. Grandma was our matriarch and we all talk about her now as if she were a saint. We laugh at those moments where she had let her guard down, just a little. I remember the fan in the room. It sat there blowing that much needed air to keep us all cool on hot summer days. I remember my uncles taking turns standing in front of it. The noise it made as background music while the adults were discussing the challenges of the day.

I miss grandma because she was that person you admired from afar as she was not the type to coddle you. You knew that she had the wisdom and whatever she said was the right answer. It was right because all the adults told you it was right and explained that you had to revere her. If she said you could dress a certain way, your parents acquiesced. If she said a movie was acceptable to watch, you went. She managed the family and made sure they were all good parents who raised their children the way she had raised them. We listened.

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Sarah Ann Worthington (King-Peter) – Chillicothe, Ohio

06 Tuesday Sep 2016

Posted by Jeannine Vegh in Ohio Women

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Tags

Adena Mansions, Catholicism, Demeter, Family, History, Moore College of Art and Design, Ohio, Ohio History, Ohio Women, Ohio Womens History, Philanthropist, Pious, Sarah Ann Worthington, Women, Worthington

worthington3At my visit to Adena Mansions, I was told by the guide that Sarah was what we would call a feminist today, as she was a champion of women’s and children’s rights. I learned there was one book written about her In Winter We Flourish by Anna Shannon McAllister (1939), and I set about to find it and read it to learn more about this great woman. Some heralded her as an American Queen, though she only wished to be known as a queen in Heaven.

Sarah Ann (May 10, 1800- February 6, 1877; Taurus – Demeter) was the second daughter and child of Thomas Worthington, sixth governor of Ohio, also known as “The Father of Ohio,” and Eleanor Swearingen. She grew up at Adena Mansion with nine other children and a whole system of laborers to monitor the estate but who were also thought of as family. Her parents were devoted to each other and to their faith.  A precocious young girl who enjoyed having fun yet she was also studious and appreciated rules and order. She was a linguist and would come to speak Italian, German and French. Her early beginnings in the arts were as an accomplished pianist who was often invited to give recitals during social gatherings.  As a woman she was pious beginning her spiritual pilgrimage as an Episcopalian and later converted to Catholicism in 1855. She was a good woman, a good wife and mother and later a patron of the arts, as well as a philanthropist, in general, who not only gave to charities, began them.

Firstly, she became a wife five days after her sixteenth birthday and this was to Edward King who became an attorney and opened his own firm in Cincinnati. He was also twice the Speaker of the House of Representatives and he founded the Cincinnati law school (now known as the University of Cincinnati, College of Law). While she would have a wonderfully devoted marriage as her parents, there was great disappointment in her attempts at child bearing. She gave birth to five children but only two survived. This would be Rufus and Tom but by her death, only Rufus would remain as Tom only lived to be thirty-one.

While married to Edward, she began utilizing her time and money to help those less fortunate. This started in 1832 when she helped aid families during a flood in Cincinnati. During that same year there would be a cholera outbreak and Sarah would help nurse the sick and even opened a portion of her home to house some of the worst cases. This was a bit surprising as her husband, from all his travels, was in another part of the home suffering from malaria. In 1833 she opened the Protestant Orphan Asylum which by 1939 was located in Mount Auburn (It is assumed this is now closed, as there is only a reference to another establishment built in 1849 online).

The passionate love of 20 years would end on February 6, 1836. Sarah, being a strong woman, used her period of mourning to follow her sons to Cambridge and opened the upstairs of her home to other young boys also attending the university. After graduation from Harvard, one son, Rufus would follow in his father’s footsteps and open a law office in Cincinnati. Tom began a practice in Philadelphia and his mother remained there as she was not yet ready to return to the home of she and her late husband. Both her sons would marry within two years’ time.

Eight years after the death of her first husband, she would marry William Peters. She was now forty-four years old and he was considerably older than she. They would stay married for almost 10 years until his death in 1853. It is through this marriage though when she begins to flourish more in her contributions to women and children. She was devoted to helping women acquire skills so that they may be able to have economic independence. Her first attempt to start an organization for seamstresses failed, for unknown reasons, noted by the author in the biography. Incapable of giving in she went on to open a home for delinquent girls, Rosine Association for Magdalens (a Quaker society home), which appears to be what might be called a trade or vocational school today.

Her next project was to begin the Philadelphia School of Design in 1848. Here the women created domestic creations through textile design of wallpaper, carpets and other household needs. This was significant, not just for helping create careers for young women but because, at this time, most of these items were imported. It also gave special meaning to these women, who, at this time could not own property or have the rights to their children. This college is now known as Moore College of Art and Design and continues to be a woman only school. It is the first and only visual arts college for women in the United States. Below is an excerpt from her biography (page 142) which explains, in her words, the reason for founding this school.

Having for a number of years observed with deep concern the privation and suffering to which a large and increasing number of deserving women are exposed in this city and elsewhere for want of a wider scope in which to earn their living; and after bestowing much through and enquiry with reference to the means of alleviating their miseries, I resolved to attempt the instruction of a class of young girls in the practice of such of the arts of design as were within my reach. I selected this department of industry, not only because it presents a wide field, as yet unoccupied by our countrymen; but also because these arts can be practiced at home, without materially interfering with the routine of domestic duty, which is the peculiar province of women. Sarah Ann Worthington Peter

After tackling these projects, this is when her son Tom died. To deal with her grief she set about to sail for Europe, with his wife and children assuming her husband William would join her. This did not happen. After she returned from her trip, which lasted over a year, he would die a few months later.

Before returning to Europe the second time, she would start the Ladies Academy of Fine Arts in Cincinnati where she had now moved back to. This does not appear to still be in existence. A bust of her likeness was placed in the Cincinnati Art Museum (however a return email has not occurred to verify as to whether it is still there). Sarah would end up touring Europe six times and spent much of this time procuring art for the museums here in the U.S., meeting with several popes and other church leaders, and soon began to become a bit of celebrity whose name could be seen in various newspapers wherever she might travel. The latter aspect she did not enjoy very much. Through these travels and the delight she would take in the rites and rituals seen amongst the Catholics, as well as her conversations with these holy men, she converted to become one of the followers herself.

Toward the end of her life, she had given quite a bit of money to various convents and to the church itself. She also established some of the orders in the United States. At the age of 77 she was surrounded by her son Rufus and his wife Minnie, Sisters Martha and Antonia and a local priest. The final portion of her Eulogy found on the last page (381) of her biography and given by Reverend Edward A. Higgins, S.J., and Rector of Saint Xavier’s College was distributed as a leaflet to those amongst the funeral mass.

Nature had indeed been generous in bestowing on Mrs. Peter qualities seldom found united in the same person: a bright, keen intellect, a warm, loving heart, untiring energy, and a soul utterly devoid of selfishness. Her mother’s heart was filled with the tenderest love, the most touching solicitude, for her children and relatives. She had the kindliest and a generous relief for every form of distress. ‘God gave her largeness of heart as the sand that is on the seashore.’ All will cherish her memory, and profit by the beautiful example of her virtues. May she rest in peace.  Amen.

 

There are many other projects and duties that Sarah took on and if you would wish to read further, I would recommend obtaining a copy of this very old book (Abe Books or at a library or other used book store). Having read the majority of this book, it is not very entertaining as it is all factual rather than story, I found her to be quite a woman. It is ladies like these that you can’t imagine ever doing anything wrong and certainly making no enemies. She walked a path of servitude that seemed to increase with age. While her father is the one who is revered in our state, women like Sarah should not be forgotten. It continues to astound me as to how little has been written about these great women. We can find so much written about royal ladies but so little about the contributions of women in history, of lesser but certainly not without means. Of course even those with little means at all, we have abandoned even more as their letters and other writings have not been set aside for posterity as would a woman’s like Sarah.

If you love history and happen to be in Ohio, or visiting, make plans to visit the Adena Mansions and tour their grounds. I believe there continues to be a couple hundred acres left so there is more than enough room to take a stroll around the property.

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Authors

  • Jeannine Vegh
  • ritajpike
  • Tracy Lawson

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Recent Posts

  • A Colonial Woman’s Perspective on War
  • Mabel Hartzell: Alliance
  • Clara Driscoll – Tallmadge, OH – The Real Tiffany’s
  • Jerrie Mock: The Newark-born “Housewife” Who Flew Around the World
  • Biographical Sketch of Eliza Archard Connor | Alexander Street Documents

Women's History

  • A Tour of Her Own
  • Daughters of the American Revolution
  • General Society of Mayflower Descendants
  • National Women's History Project
  • Ohio History Connection
  • Ohio Women Puzzle
  • The National Society of the Colonial Dames of America
  • Women In History

Women's Organizations

  • American Association of University Women
  • Dames Bond

Social Media

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Who is this woman? I bought her photo in an #ohio #antiqueshop 8 years ago and she has sat in my therapy office as a mascot since. I wish I knew her name and more about her. Do you? Everyone thinks she is my aunt. I have sort of adopted her. Let me know thru here or my email if you know her. I love a good mystery but only when it is solved. Thank you in advance. #mystery #antiquephoto #woman #puzzle #ohiowoman
Your new posting feature is horribly complicated. Please return to original more easier way of posting. If not broke, don’t fix it analogy applies here! #instagram #posts #stupidceos #poorcustomerservice
I have just written a post on ohiowomenshistory.com about @echoheron book about Clara Driscoll. I hope you get a chance to read it and then go and purchase her book. #womensupportingwomen #ohio #ohiowomen #tiffanys #tiffanystudios #guildedage #womenartists #womenempowerment #women #history #unknownhistory #unknownartist
A peak into my presentation tomorrow morning at 9am for ohiolha.org #greatladies #femalepoliticians #suffragists #ohio #ohiostate #femalehikers #philanthropist #femalewriters #nancydrew #appalachiantrail #governordaughters #ohiogovernor

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My Tweets

Blogs I Follow

Ben Montgomery, author, with Louise (L) and Lucy (R) "Gatewood." On the trail.
Ben Montgomery, author, with Louise (L) and Lucy (R) “Gatewood.” On the trail.
Opal Dunn McAlister
Opal Dunn McAlister
Lucy's Toy Shop
Lucy’s Toy Shop
J.D. Vance and his Mamaw, Bonnie Vance
J.D. Vance and his Mamaw, Bonnie Vance
First Rock and Roll Critic
First Rock and Roll Critic
Emma Gatewood with her gear for walking the AT.
Emma Gatewood with her gear for walking the AT.
Loranttfy Zsuzsanna Ladies Aid Society c.1928
Loranttfy Zsuzsanna Ladies Aid Society c.1928
Appalachian Family transplanted to Grove City
Appalachian Family transplanted to Grove City
Florence Kenyon Hayden Rector, Mary Dubrow and then Alice Paul. (l-r)
Florence Kenyon Hayden Rector, Mary Dubrow and then Alice Paul. (l-r)
Marikaneni and her godson, the late Ferenc Vegh
Marikaneni and her godson, the late Ferenc Vegh
Rosie the Riverters from Ohio
Rosie the Riverters from Ohio
Erma Bombeck
Erma Bombeck
Natalie Clifford Barney
Natalie Clifford Barney
Sarah Ann Worthington
Sarah Ann Worthington
Mom (Della's mother-in-law but what we called her) and Norma Jean Welsh 1974
Mom (Della’s mother-in-law but what we called her) and Norma Jean Welsh 1974
Mabel Vail, My Grandma
Mabel Vail, My Grandma
Womens Guild c. 1981
Womens Guild c. 1981

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Rita Juanita Mock-Pike

Freelance Novelist, Writer, and Journalist

THE CHRONICLES OF HISTORY

LOOKING INTO THE PAST ....

Jeannine Vegh

Discerning Gal

Love Letter To Columbus

Ohio's best and biggest city

The Art of Blogging

For bloggers who aspire to inspire

History... the interesting bits!

Everyone Has a Story

My Family Stories

Natalie Breuer

Natalie. Writer. Photographer. Etc.

Grandma (Emma) Gatewood

"Trail Magic" DVD now available

Kate Spitzmiller: Remember the Ladies

Writer

Tim Miller

Poetry, Religion, History and Art

Seven Word Itch

Sometimes I'm just itching to write!

Ohio Women's History

Transformed Women Who Brought Us To Where We are Today

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