SECTION II

Chapter 1

The Andersons: We Should Not Be Here, But We Are And We Have Made the Most of it.

Anderson cousins, we come from pretty good stock.

My references for this section are tales that my father told, both from personal experiences and family tales and legends he heard from some of the “old people.”  He was born in 1910, and some of the pioneers and a good many Civil War veterans were still around in his youth. I will also refer to the excellent genealogy Aunt Verl worked up as a requirement for membership in the Daughters of the American Revolution and the United Daughters of the Confederacy.  I will concentrate on the Anderson and Rainey families, Although there are many other branches to our tree with familiar Jones County names like Odom, Tisdale, Smith, Rogers, Roberts, Riels and some uncommon ones, from the Anderson family’s early years in Virginia and the Carolinas – names like DeVall and even an Indian woman (doubtlessly Christianized) named “Massiah”

Aunt Verl’s  genealogy of the Rainey family is much more extensive, giving descendants of every branch beginning with Thomas R. Rainey, who was born on the Mississippi Gulf Coast in 1809 and his wife Rebecca L. Tisdale, who was born  in 1817 in Wayne, or possibly, Franklin County.  There is no record of when their parents (or possibly grandparents) moved to Mississippi. One of our ancestors  on the Anderson limb of the family tree -- a  Reddoch -- settled on the bank of the Leaf River in 1796 and operated a ferry. To this day, the area around the Highway 84 bridge over the Leaf River is known as Reddoch’s Ferry

Her Anderson Genealogy begins with James Anderson, who was born in Augusta County, Virginia, in 1746. He is the one by whom we can trace out linage to the American Revolution, for he was a Captain in that war of our nation’s birth, and must have been a  man with itchy feet, for he founded  the Town of Anderson in  Anderson County, South Carolina. Aunt Verl’s material contains a letter from a Francis Barrio, whom I think was nee Anderson, and somehow a distant cousin, who visited the grave of James Anderson, who died at the age of 67 in 1813 in Anderson County, South Carolina.  The date of Francis’ letter is 1973.  She stated that the Anderson name is well respected in the area, our distant cousins treated her very nicely, and still live on the 1,000 acre plantation founded by Captain James Anderson in 1767.   That branch of the Anderson family had sons in each generation, so Anderson’s have always owned the plantation.

Her Genealogy does not say when, or how, the Anderson’s came to  Mississippi, but they arrived sometimes between 1785 and 1821, for Isaac Anderson was born in South Carolina in1785, and Hiram Anderson born in Covington County, MS in 1821.

Our Cousin Steve Anderson, a  Mormon, and therefore intensely interested in family history, claims an Anderson (Isaac?) fought with General Andrew Jackson at the Battle of New Orleans during (actually, shortly after the end of) the War of 1812, and was rewarded for his service with a land grant in Mississippi.  Aunt Verl’s genealogy does not say anything about that, nor have I heard it elsewhere, but I will defer to Steve. 

I have (as do many of you) a copy on an article from the Natchez Democrat, written in 1840, by a correspondent  who was traveling all over Mississippi and sending stories back to his paper.  He visited the plantation of Hiram Anderson and wrote a glowing report of its prosperity, the good food they raised and the good health and happiness of everyone – whites and blacks alike.

The Rainey name, with various spellings, including McRainey and O’Rainey,  can be found in England, Scotland and Ireland.  It occurs on some records in Yorkshire, England in the 1200’s.  There are some very interesting notes in the back of her genealogy about Rainey’s who might, (or might not) have been our ancestors.  Several of the ships that brought settlers to New England were owned by the Rainey family, and a Rainey was a member of the Virginia Company.  He later became a seaman – working all the way up to Captain -- and made several voyages between England and America.  Maybe that is where I get my love of all things nautical.

The Andersons came from Scotland.  Anderson is a Scandinavian name.  If you have been watching the TV series “Vikings” you have an idea how we got to Scotland.  Let’s just say our grandparents about 20 times removed  did not have good table manners nor play well with other people. But our family tree is rooted deep in the soil of the British Isles.  My particular branch has a bit of German, for my Grandmother Emmons’ maiden name (Shows) appears on old deeds as Shouse, which sounds very Germanic to me.

Look!  A rabbit, and I just have to chase it!

I have been around chainsaws and chain sawyers all of my professional life.  When I was in Forestry School at MSU, the Forestry Club raised money by cutting, splitting and delivering firewood in the fall, and cutting pulpwood in the spring.  They had a chainsaw made by a “Burns” company.  It might have had one-half horsepower and weighed 30 pounds.  The company went out of the chainsaw business and started making AIRCRAFT.  No joke.  I never heard of a Burns airplane, so I guess that part of the business never got off the ground. (yes, I intended that pun).  I have cut firewood for more than 40 years and worn out three chainsaws, and had another (that was about half used up) stolen.

The best sawyer I ever met was a Choctaw Indian who worked for Packaging Corporation of America and logged a Sixteenth Section tract we sold them when I was the Kemper County forester.  It was a tract of big pine timber, and man, could he ever lay them on the ground -- Until I met Bjorn Erickson and Eric Andersson (yes, that is with two “s’s”). They were from Sweden, and gave chainsaw demonstrations and safety training for The Stihl Company.

They had amazingly fast and unusual ways to felling, bucking and limbing trees.  I could write a separate story about that.  Maybe I will.   Remind me.

Anyway, I had seen advance publicity and noticed the double S’s in Eric’s name. I introduced myself as Harold Anderson with one “S,” and inquired about the spelling of his name.  He said that spelling is very common in Sweden, but somewhere along the way the English-speaking Anderson’s had (pun alert!) lost their S.  He said that the Norwegians spelled the name “Andersen” (as in Hans Christian Andersen).

End of rabbit chase.

Back to our family story:  If the Rainey of the Jamestown Company was our ancestor, we were among the first Europeans here.  (But, for sure our many-times-removed grandmother “Massiah’s” people were here to welcome them. ) At any rate, we have been here almost from the beginning.  According to an article in National Georgaphic  the Scottish Andersons migrated from Scotland in 1650 and landed in the South Atlantic colonies  The Swedish Andersons came much later and settled in the Northeast and Midwest.

We were among those who breached the Appalachians to settle the interior.  We fought in two wars of independence (one successful, and one not.)  Our people defended their homeland – be it USA or CSA.  Few of us were professional military people ( I am one, since I retired from the U.S. Naval Reserve), but we did not shirk when duty called.  While looking through the extensive Rainey Genealogy, I found several notations “Killed (or died) in the Civil War,” and I know the same was true on the Anderson side. 

Our extended clan was has been represented in many conflicts since then, especially WWII.  All of the Anderson boys who were old enough participated.

I remember my daddy telling me about their fear of the mailbox during WWI, for every time the mail ran, they were afraid that Cook’s draft notice would come. He escaped that conflict because farming was a critical occupation (somebody had to feed all those troops) and he had several children by that time.

Our folks were (and remain) good solid citizens – lawmen, lawyers, businessmen, successful farmers, millers, teachers, engineers, mechanics, truck drivers,  accountants, one Idiot forester, the mother of an adopted Russian boy, an assistant to an Indian Chief – and two horologists.

Horologists?  Say what?  I hope that does not mean what I think it does.  No, gutter-mind, it means “watch-maker.”  Two of our uncles – Glen and Ed -- took Horology at Jones County Jr. College and had long and lucrative careers:  Ed at a jewelry store in Natchez, and Glen, who opened his own jewelry store in Yazoo City and is still ably operated by our Cousin John and his wife Pat. 

There is now not much need for horologists, since most watches and just thrown away and not repaired.  When I was a student at JCJC in the sixties, they still taught Horology, but I think it has been discontinued.  But I still enjoy telling people I had two uncles who were professional horologists, and a cousin who still is,  just to see the look of shock – then envy – on their faces.

Then there is that question of slavery.  Yes, our ancestors owned them – and fought (and many died) to defend that “peculiar institution.” I see Letters to the Editor every year about the time of Confederate Memorial Day claiming that the Civil War was fought about state’s rights, not about slavery.  Yeah, about the right of the states to allow its citizens to own slaves.  If you doubt me, look up the Confederate Declaration of Independence.  The preamble plainly states that the produce of the soil is essential to the economy of the country, especially cotton, which grows only in hot climates, and people of northern European ancestry are not acclimated to working in such harsh conditions, but Negroes from tropical areas are acclimated to the heat and can labor in it without adverse effect, hence slavery is essential, and the Southern States are seceding to protect it.

From old family stories and legends I gather that slavery in this part of the state was not of the cruel type written about in “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” but the slaves were more like an extension of the family.

But it was the accepted way of life.  It is part of America’s  -- and our family’s – history. 

After the slaves were freed, many of them drifted back to their old plantations, and their former masters took them back in, not as slaves, but as share-croppers or hired hands and worked alongside them in the broiling sun – in spite of the Confederate founders’ claim that we could not do it.  This Scotch Anderson has sure spent his time in the sun, and I have the skin cancer scars and a new face to prove it.

A new face?  Yep, this is not the one I was born with.  You did not think I was always this ugly, did you?

Actually, this face is not all that new, for I have had it for several years.  The skin of my face was thick, inflexible and it hurt to smile or frown, so I just went about expressionless, like a zombie.  I went to the doctor, and he prescribed a lotion which, when applied, ate away all the old skin, then I applied an ointment to make it heal.  The new skin was as smooth, soft and supple as a baby’s  butt!  Oh, how I have enjoyed it – and taken care to protect it by wearing a hat in the sun.

We, who were born to the long, dark winters of Scandinavia and reared in the mists of Scotland, were not meant to be here, but we are;  and I am proud to say have done quite well.