The Russells and the Allegheny Cemetery (with a nod to Rosemont)

Note about dates: Most of the dates given in this article only refer to the month and the year. There are discrepancies between published genealogies of the Russell family, as well as newspaper reports and interment registers. In most cases the difference is likely between date of death and date of interment, but it is simpler just to give month and year. At this distance, it doesn’t really matter all that much.

 Entrance to the Allegheny Cemetery
 

 Grave stones for Joseph L and Ann E Russell
 

Plan of graves in Section 7 Lot 17 in the Allegheny Cemetery, Pittsburgh, PA.

Owner: James G Russell. Size of lot: 300 (square feet). Graves: 1. Mary Russell, 2. Charles T Russell, 3. James G Russell, 4. Sarah A Russell, 5. Joseph L Russell, 6. Ann E Russell, 7. Joseph L Russell Jr., 8. Lucinda H Russell, 9. Thomas B Russell.

As cities in America grew in the 19^th century, the problem of burying the dead became an issue, involving both public health and space. Town and city graveyards tended to be small, sectarian, and full. The rural cemetery or garden cemetery was a solution. It was designed to be a landscaped region that allowed the public to have parkland outside the city area, while also allowing the families of the rich to indulge in eye-catching memorial architecture. The latter seemed to work on the principle that, while you may not be able to take it with you, at least you could show the huddled masses you’d once had it! It also took the burial of the dead outside of church control.

The first rural cemetery in America was founded near Boston in 1831. Quickly others followed, including the one where most of CTR’s immediate family are buried, in Allegheny. The Allegheny model was chartered in 1844, and the grounds (originally one hundred acres of farmland) were dedicated to their new use on September 20, 1845. Other tracts of surrounding land were later purchased, so that a 1910 guide describes the cemetery as having grown to a little over 273 acres, divided into 39 sections.

Modern publications give a figure of around 300 acres, divided into 48 sections with fifteen miles of roadways. The area is carefully landscaped with well established trees, and is a haven for wildlife. Over 124,000 are buried there. Perhaps the most famous resident is Stephen Foster, the nineteenth century composer. One of the Memorials is for the child victims of the Allegheny Arsenal explosion in 1862 that is mentioned in chapter one of the current history book in progress. Forty-five of the victims were buried in Section 17 of the Allegheny cemetery with a special memorial pillar to commemorate them.

Although the cemetery location was chosen to be well outside the metropolis, inevitably the city encroached around it and then way beyond it. Today it is a very useful green space with some forestry, as well as a cemetery, in the middle of an urban area. It is located in the Lawrenceville neighbourhood of Pittsburgh, bounded by Bloomfield, Garfield and Stanton Heights. Its official address is 4734 Butler Street.

The original prospectus allowed for the purchase of individual graves or family plots. The prevailing sizes of the latter were 150, 225, 300, or 500 square feet each. A 150 square foot lot was for six graves, using wooden rough boxes only, a 225 foot lot was for eight interments and a 300 foot one ten burials.

So finally we come to the Russell family.

We know that Charles Tays Russell (CTR’s Uncle) came to Allegheny and founded a business in 1831, if his obituary is accurate. Other family members gravitated to the same area. His brother James Russell is listed in the 1840 census, and he it was who purchased the cemetery plot in the brand new Allegheny cemetery – initially one assumes due to the death of Sarah Russell. The family plot is Section 7, Plot 17.

It should be noted that the usual family tree for the Russells in circulation calls Sarah, James’ sister. There appears to be no proof of this. The burial registers for both Sarah and James make no comment on familial relationship. Had Sarah been James’ sister it would have been more logical for the patriarch, Charles Tays, to buy the family plot. But it was James who made the purchase, and it would make far more sense for him to buy the plot for a wife rather a sister; especially as he was soon to be laid to rest alongside her.

James Russell’s plans included his extended family also staying there. Forever. Literally. He purchased the 300 square foot size, designed for ten interments. As it worked out, only nine family members would eventually use the site.

Exact figures exist for the new cemetery. Although covering a large number of acres, initially the take-up was small. In the first year, 1845, from September (the first burial) to the end of the year there were only eight in total.

In 1846 there were only 29 new interments. These included Sarah Russell. One must assume that James had the pick of many potential family plots; his choice then being dictated partly by cost, but also by situation and outlook.  However, total interments were 67 that year, because there were also 38 re-burials. It was common in the early days to remove bodies from city cemeteries at the request of relatives, who wanted a more congenial final resting place for their whole family.

So by the end of 1846, a grand total of 75 burials or re-burials had taken place at the cemetery. Sarah died of consumption in the December; her burial registration number is 73.

Almost exactly one year later, in December 1847, James died. His burial registration number is 264. He was laid to rest next to Sarah in the top row of two on the plot, the one furthest from the roadway. James died of paralysis, so one assumes he suffered a fatal stroke at the age of 51. Initially wooden grave markers were the norm, but they are obviously long gone. The cemetery plan reproduced with this article suggests that there may have been more substantial grave markers for James and Sarah at one time, but if so they are also long gone.

So that made it two down, and eight places left to go in the family plot (only seven of which were eventually taken up).

By the time James died we assume that Joseph Lytle (sometimes spelled Lytel) Russell was already living in Pittsburgh, and it was his branch of the family who would use the site next. The Allegheny Cemetery charter laid down strict legal provisions for inheritance of family plots – first to children (James and Sarah do not appear to have had any) then parents, and then brothers and sisters.

In common with many in those unhealthy times, Joseph and his wife Ann Eliza were to lose three of their five children quite early on. Thomas, pictured in the January 1, 1912 WT (but not the reprints) was the first – he died of whooping cough and was buried in a row nearest the roadway in front of James and Sarah’s graves. The cemetery record states he died in August 1855 at the age of five years and three months.

Thomas B Russell had been the firstborn in 1850, and was no doubt named after his maternal uncle, Thomas Birney, who lived in Pittsburgh. He was followed by Charles Taze Russell in 1852 (both Charles and Taze being an obvious nod to his paternal uncle, Charles Tays) and then Margaret Russell in 1854. Charles and Margaret survived to adulthood of course, and were finally buried side by side, but elsewhere.

Then a young daughter named Lucinda was born. She died from scrofula (sometimes spelled scrophula), a form of tuberculosis affecting lymph nodes in the neck, in July 1858 at the age of a year and a half. Lastly, there was a young son, Joseph Lytle Jr, who died of croup at the age of six months in April 1860. The family had been living and working in Philadelphia at this point, but it was still important to the family to bring the little bodies back to the Allegheny cemetery for burial in the family plot.

For the three children, two sad little gravestones have survived, but they are very weathered and – from photographs at least - the memorial inscriptions on them are now indistinct.

Finally, after losing her three children, mother Ann Eliza died from consumption in January 1861. Her funeral took place from the home of her brother, Thomas Birney, in Pittsburgh. Her will, written just the month before, when she was no doubt very ill, lists her husband, Joseph Lytle, as “her agent in Philadelphia.” The notice of death in the Pittsburgh Gazette for January 26, 1861 calls her the wife of Joseph L Russell (of Philadelphia, PA).

Her grave stone survives, although it is worn in places. It reads:

ANN ELIZA

WIFE OF

JOSEPH L RUSSELL

DIED (indistinct) 1861

IN THE 39 YEAR OF

HER LIFE

There is an inscription at the bottom – probably taken from a scripture – but this writer is unable to decipher it from photographic evidence. If any reader can do better, please do try. You will find a photograph of the stone on the Find a Grave website.

After Ann Eliza’s death, the family plot remained unused for nearly fifteen years. During this time, CTR and his sister grew to adulthood, and CTR started his spiritual journey in earnest.

Then, in 1875, the oldest of the Russell brothers, the original Charles Tays died. His life story, such as we know it, is covered in an earlier article on this blog – The Other Charles T Russell. Charles Tays died of hepatitis in December 1875 and was buried in the family plot. The grave was positioned in the top row, next to James and Sarah, whose funerals had been 30 years before. Charles Tays’ grave stone is quite well preserved and again can be read on the Find a Grave site.

 

It reads:

IN MEMORY OF

CHARLES TAYS RUSSELL

A NATIVE OF

COUNTY DONEGAL, IRELAND

DIED

AT PITTSBURGH PA

DEC 28 1875

IN THE 70 YEAR

OF HIS AGE

Eleven years went by before the next interment. The extended Russell family who settled in Pittsburgh included an unmarried sister, Mary Russell. When Charles Tays died, he left $3000 in a trust fund for her support. By 1886 the plan had gone awry and it was necessary to dip heavily into the capital to care for her. (The transcribed legal documents can again be seen in that earlier article – The Other Charles T Russell). She died in the September of 1886 and was buried in the top row next to her brother Charles Tays. No stone seems to have been provided.

There was only one more person who would share this final resting place, CTR’s father, Joseph Lytle. Joseph had re-married (his second wife being CTR’s wife’s sister) and they had one child, Mabel, who was to live until 1961. The family moved from Pittsburgh to Florida, but Joseph Lytle then returned to Pittsburgh shortly before his death, likely so he could die there. He was buried alongside his first wife and the three children who had died before them.

Joseph’s stone reads:

FATHER

JOSEPH L RUSSELL

BORN IN IRELAND

JULY 4 1813

DIED IN ALLEGHENY

DEC 17 1897

The inscription at the bottom reads: Blessed and holy are all they who have part in the first resurrection. They shall be Kings and Priests with God.

And that was it, as far as the Allegheny cemetery plot was concerned; a total of nine interments out of a possible ten. The years went by, it became forgotten, and grass encroached over the stones lying flat on the ground; until in fairly recent times the plot was rediscovered. The memorial inscriptions for Joseph Lytle and Charles Tays are in the best condition today, but of course they are the most recent.

So why didn’t CTR end up buried here with his family in the one remaining space?

I have no way of knowing how carefully to scale the chart of graves reproduced with this article may be, but if accurate, it might appear that squeezing in another interment could be problematical. Probably more to the point, CTR was involved in founding a new cemetery.

The Rosemont, Mount Hope and Evergreen United Cemeteries were founded on land purchased from what was called the Wiebel farm in 1905. One section, the Rosemont Cemetery, was earmarked for Bible Student use. In his will, written in 1907 CTR directed that he be buried there. By the time of his death the area was simply called the United Cemeteries.

The aim had been to have a special section of cemetery for the Bethel family as well as for those who served as travelling representatives, then called Pilgrims. A 1919 convention report details plans to erect a pyramid monument in the center of the site on which all their names would be engraved on the four sides. The special Watch Tower section was planned to contain 275 burial spaces. CTR was buried at this new location in early November 1916. Notice of the pyramid’s completion was given in the St Paul Enterprise for February 10, 1920. By that time all the other surrounding cemetery land and farmhouse had been sold off, and seven others in addition to CTR had been buried there.

As it happened, this plan was quite soon abandoned. A reunion convention of those who had left the Watch Tower society held a memorial service at CTR’s gravesite in 1929 and on examining the pyramid monument for inscriptions tartly remarked in their convention report: “either the friends have not been dying or the plan has been changed.”

The remaining graves were all sold off and were since used by people unconnected with CTR’s associates.

It is not difficult to guess why this happened. For a start, there were theological problems with a pyramid monument as the 1920s wore on, but probably it was logistics more than anything that caused the change of plan. CTR’s heart was in Allegheny. The new cemetery company was founded while he still lived there. CTR lived nearly all his life there, until the move to Brooklyn in 1909. It made sense for him to be buried there, even if not with his natural family in the Allegheny cemetery. But apart from a brief switch back to Pittsburgh when J F Rutherford and others were imprisoned, Brooklyn became the focus for the Watch Tower Society after CTR’s death. The Bethel family lived in New York. The workers and officials of the Society generally had no family ties with Pittsburgh. What was the point of the great expense of shipping bodies all the way back to Pittsburgh? So another cemetery plot on Staten Island, near the radio station WBBR, became the cemetery of choice instead.

The only historical postscript is that when CTR’s sister died in 1934 the family obviously must have had a claim on the plot next to CTR. She was buried there, with no fanfare, in November 1934. Her name in death was registered as Margaretta R Land (rather than Margaret). There is no stone to mark her final resting place.

 

United Cemeteries Revisited

by Jerome

The United Cemeteries burial plot where CTR is interred has featured on this blog on several occasions in the past. Back in 2014, after visiting the area in person, I was able to write a series of articles covering the cemetery’s history, the history of the pyramid monument (including the infamous break-in) and also the history of the people whose names are inscribed on the pyramid’s sides. Also the claim by conspiracy theorists that CTR was a freemason because - shock, horror – there is now a Masonic temple on the site has also been discussed in detail in the past by both me and others.

However, since finding a couple more photographs hidden away on a hard drive, this article will go over some of this history briefly again. And it may be of interest to new readers who have not delved back into this blog’s own past.

Using the United States Investment Company, the Society purchased farming land formerly belonging to a Margaret Wible in 1904, with the intention of forming a cemetery company. It would be a commercial venture, but a percentage of the profits would go towards their religious work. There was already a cemetery adjacent owned by the Roman Catholic St Philomena Church, so the change of use was logical. Plat maps of the 1890s show a farm and land belonging to Margaret Wible, with the St Philomena Cemetery to the south.

When CTR wrote his last will and testament in 1907 he asked to be buried here. A special area of the cemetery came to be known as the Bethel plot, and was to be reserved for full time workers, either in Bethel or as pilgrims or colporteurs.

Our first picture was taken in early November 1916 and shows a view down the hill across the special “Bethel” cemetery area.

Two small grave markers can be seen on the grass. These are for Mary Jane Whitehouse and Arabella Mann, who were both interred in June 1916. Their graves mark the end of the special Bethel plot. The land in front, while still belong to the cemetery company, was not part of the Bethel plot. Looking further down the hill you can see a large house. This was the original farmhouse, now occupied by J Adam Bohnet, who was cemetery manager in 1916. He’d lived there for some years, and had earlier used the surrounding farmland to grow “miracle wheat.”

In front of the house on the right of the picture you can see some substantial grave stones clustered together. You will not find these today because this was apparently a collection of monumental masonry for purchase from the cemetery company.

So in 1916 CTR died and arrangements were made for his funeral. The next picture shows the grave being dug.

You can just see the head of someone in the bottom of the grave. The group of men include J Adam Bohnet on the far right. Bohnet’s distinctive bald head is covered over by a hat. The small graves stones for Mary Whitehouse and Arabella Mann are shielded in the picture by the group. Below them is the house along with the sample grave markers.

Our next picture takes us forward to very early in 1920. The pyramid monument has been erected in the center of the Bethel plot. This is covered in some detail in the New Era Enterprise newspaper for February 20, 1920, which reproduces this photograph.

This photograph, taken near dusk, appears to have been taken from the location of CTR’s grave. Looking down the hill, you can still see the two small grave markers for Whitehouse and Mann. It looks like the lights are on in the house.

However, the house no longer belonged to the Society. In December 1917 the whole cemetery, with the exception of the Bethel plot and a couple of other small areas, was sold off to what was now called the North Side Catholic Cemetery Association. J Adam Bohnet no longer lived in this house. After a short spell in Brooklyn he would spend the next decade as a Pilgrim loyal to the IBSA travelling across the country.

Once the pyramid monument was installed, no further names were inscribed on it. Apart from two further burials – Charles Beuhler in 1925 and Margaretta Russell Land (CTR’s sister) in 1934 – the site fell into disuse until the Society started selling off plots in the 1940s.

Our next picture dates from November 1991.

The site looks a little neglected, although that might just have been the time of year when the picture was taken. You can see CTR’s grave, the pyramid monument, and assorted grave markers both inside and outside of the Bethel plot. The two little grave markers for Whitehouse and Mann have now disappeared. So has the farm house. The land opposite is just scrubland, with just a few possible graves near the path.

In 1994 the Catholics (rebranded as the Catholic Cemeteries Association of the Diocese of Pittsburgh, Inc.) sold off this waste ground to the Masons. The documents from October 1994 show they sold 42.40 acres of land to the Masonic Fund Society for the County of Allegheny for $610,000. The Masons then built their shiny new Greater Pittsburgh Masonic Center there.

Our final picture (taken in 2014) shows CTR’s grave, the pyramid and the Masonic buildings in the distance.

It must be stressed to any who persist in linking a Masonic conference center with CTR’s grave that the land was sold to the Catholics in December 1917. The Catholics appear to have done nothing with it until selling it on in 1994. So there is absolutely no connection with CTR and the Society’s burial area. But when did facts ever get in the way of conspiracy theorists?

There are numerous pictures of the area showing it as found today. The one reproduced above is my own, but had to be cropped because I appear in the original. Being of a naturally shy and retiring nature I decided to edit it accordingly.

General Hall

by Jerome

The book God’s Kingdom Rules discusses on page 56 the stand that Bible Students took towards warfare during WW1. While the command not to kill was paramount in their minds, they also wished to be obedient to their understanding of the “higher powers (superior authorities)” of Romans 13. On that basis, some were prepared to join the army and wear a uniform. Of course, wearing a soldiers’ uniform, carrying a weapon, but then firing to miss, would be a difficult situation to be in, but this was the basic advice CTR gave in Volume 6 of Studies in the Scriptures, The New Creation, pages 594-595:

"We would consider it not amiss...to request a transference to the medical or hospital department, where our services could be used with full consent of our consciences; but even if compelled to serve in the ranks and fire our guns we need not feel compelled to shoot a fellow man."

This background may help some modern readers to understand the picture at the top of this article. This is General William Preble Hall, in full military uniform, wearing his medals. Hall was a Bible Student. The photograph is taken from a convention report for 1911; a convention where Hall was a featured speaker.

So who was this man? What was his background and connection with the Bible Students?

Hall came from a military background. He was born in 1848. He graduated from West Point in 1868 and served principally on Western Frontier duty until the Spanish-American war. He rose to the rank of Brigadier General. The following comes from the volume Who Was Who in America 1897-1942, page 507. (Spelling and abbreviations used have been preserved)

“Served principally on frontier duty until Spanish war; was in fight with Apaches at Whitestone, MT, Ariz., July 13 1873; Big Horn and Yellowstone Exped, 1876. And in action at Indian Creek, WY July 17, 1876, and combat of Slim Buttes, Dak., Sept. 9-10, `876; attacked by Indians while in command of reconnoitering party near camp on White River, CO, Oct 29, 1879, and while going rescue a brother officer was surrounded by about 35 warriors; awarded Congressional Medal of Honor for most distinguished gallantry on that occasion’ Adj. Gen Dep Puerto Rico 1899-1900. Was mem. Dept. Div. army, and distinguished marksmen teams. 1879-92, and won medals upon all these teams, shooting, carbine, and revolver. Retired June 11, 1912.”

The reference to Big Horn calls to mind the death of General Custer. From anecdotal evidence (letter from Russell Kurzen of WT headquarter staff dated Jan 23, 1995) “One day before the Battle of the Little Big Horn, Custer told Hall to scout the Indians, so he came within one day of dying with Custer and his men.” The same source said that Hall had a reputation for kindness and fairness to the Indians, often seeing to it that their needs were met out of army supplies. (Hall served as a Quartermaster at different stages of his career.)

(The words "anecdotal" and "evidence" probably don't belong together in the last paragraph. For an interesting discussion of this disputed account see the comments - Jerome)

So how did General Hall become a Bible Student?

Hall relates his experience in a letter to ZWT for June 1, 1905. In September 1904 while attending the World’s Fair at St Louis, he had picked up two tracts published by the Watch Tower, and was moved to write off for the first volume of Millennial Dawn. He soon obtained the other volumes and his letter shows his full commitment to the message.

By 1907 CTR was highlighting Hall’s example in sharing his faith. In a convention talk “To Colporteurs and Harvest Workers” CTR singled out Hall for praise in visiting all the people he knew in Washington with Bible Student tracts. In CTR’s estimation this took more courage than fighting on the battlefield.

In 1908, Hall was one of those listed who had taken “the vow”.

By 1911 Hall was giving the address of welcome at the Mountain Lake Park, Maryland, convention, before introducing J F Rutherford as convention chairman.

It was at this convention that a world tour was announced to investigate foreign missions. CTR and six companions made the tour and reported back in a special issue of the Watch Tower for April 1912. General Hall was one of the group, and in the photograph in the Proclaimers book on page 420, he is third from the left, just behind CTR who is seated. When the tour visited the Philippines, where Hall still knew some US military personnel, he gave a talk on "The Bible and Christianity from the Standpoint of a Soldier."

In July 1912 at a convention in Washington D.C. Hall led a session which the convention report headed Lake of Hell-Fire Officially Repudiated, which presented an anti-Hell resolution for adoption.

In 1915 J F Rutherford produced his booklet Great Battle in Ecclesiastical Heavens. In the character witnesses, Hall features prominently. His testimonial to CTR (dated April 3, 1915) takes up most of page 52 in the original American printing, signed W P Hall, Brigadier General, US Army, and then Hall’s own photograph takes up the whole of page 53.

After CTR died, comments on warfare and patriotism in the book The Finished Mystery resulted in eight well-known Bible Students being arrested and sentenced to long prison terms in 1918. They were released after around nine months in 1919.

With his background, one might wonder how Hall dealt with this. However, it appears he continued as a Bible Student in loyal association with the IBSA. He died in December 1927 and his obituary was published in the Society’s Golden Age magazine for February 8, 1928, page 302. Probably written by Clayton J Woodworth, it reads:

General Hall Passes On

GENERAL William Preble Hall, retired, former Adjutant General of the United States Army, and well known to Bible Students in all parts of the world, has passed on, at the age of 79 years.

General Hall, awarded a Congressional medal of honor for distinguished gallantry in action in one of Colorado’s many Indian wars, in 1879, was also brave is his defense of the truth. He was neither afraid nor ashamed to distribute tracts in his home neighborhood, one of the most exclusive in Washington, D.C.

Though always to some extent influenced by his early military training, he nevertheless took his stand on the Lord’s side and was a meek and faithful worker in the service work, doing with his might what his hand found to do. He toured the world with Pastor C.T. Russell on the foreign mission investigation and was the chairman of the Bible Students’ convention in Scranton in 1920. He was a brother greatly beloved by all who knew him.

(end of obituary)

Hall was buried in Arlington National cemetery, Arlington County, Virginia, Section 1, Lot 653. If you check the name “William Preble Hall” on the Find a Grave site, you can see his grave marker, along with a bit more biographical information, including family details which this article has not covered. The Find a Grave article does not mention his Bible Student connections. However, Hall also gets his own article on Wikipedia. This does provide information about his religious background along with some more photographs.

A Son's Letter

The Bible Student’s unofficial newspaper The St Paul Enterprise published a letter from Malcom Rutherford to his father Joseph Franklin Rutherford in December 1918.

The letter shows a family closeness and a fondness for scripture and “the Divine Plan.” Malcom was obviously in association with the Bible Students because he had just recently been at a meeting where he heard “Brother Howlett” speak about the situation. The whole letter is somewhat guarded in tone, since his father was now in prison and the war hysteria that put him there was still rampant in American society.

A greater part of the letter details how a trip through the Mojave Desert (Death Valley) nearly ended in disaster. It is extremely detailed, showing Malcom to have a good command of the English language, but with a tendency common for the era of using two words where even one was superfluous. It is so detailed, blow by blow, that he either took detailed notes on the journey, or had an exceptional memory, or just used “creative license” for some of it.

It is interesting to note that the letter was dated July 21, 1918, only a month after JFR was sentenced to twenty years in jail. However, it was not published until nearly five months later, in the December 10, 1918, issue of the St Paul Enpterprise (see page 4). Whether Malcom’s father, JFR held it back, or whether that was down to the editor of the St Paul Enterprise, is not known. What IS known is that Malcolm married Pauline Short on March 28, 1918 in Los Angeles, and after writing this letter, and having previously requested exemption from the draft on the grounds of IBSA membership, he accepted conscription and joined the army on September 10, 1918.

For those who want to read more on Malcom’s history, see the series “The Ultimate Malcom Rutherford Experience” at https://jeromehistory.blogspot.com/

(transcript)

Voices of the People, or What our Readers Say

These are Our Readers’ Columns for the Fair, Free and Frank Expression of all Matters of Spiritual Interest.

TOUCHING EXRESSIONS OF LOVE.

Thrilling Experiences Depicted by a Son, and written to Cheer and Lighten Burdens of a Father.

Los Angeles, Cal., July 21, 1918.

My dear Father:

How strange it seems to be addressing you at present, and still in other ways it does not seem so much so, because we knew from statements in the Divine Plan and Word that “all these things must come to pass.” So we sorrow not as others, surely believing that all these experiences are working out for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory, and are among the “all things” that work together for good to those who love God, and who are called according to his purpose.

We have received all of your letters, from the beginning of the present situation to your departure from Washington, and wonderful letters they were, so full of the spirit of the Master and of submission to His will. Their spirit and your attitude toward the severe trials you were enduring and expected to endure were a real inspiration to us, and I can see how, even in the midst of present afflictions, you and the dear brethren are really happy. Because “greater is He that is on our part than all that can be against us,” and regardless of what our loyalty to the Divine Plan leads us into, we surely know that God’s laws are higher than man’s laws, even as the heavens are higher that the earth. And with a proper submission to both, we need not fear what man is able to do unto us, for our Lord has said, “Fear not him who is able to kill the body, but rather Him that is able to destroy both body and soul; yea, I say, fear (reverence) ye Him.”

During the trial various newspaper reports were received and opinions and conjectures were numerous, but we took no stock in anything that we did not get direct from you, and then, at last, we learned that there has been a short termination of the case and that the present situation would result. It must have been a remarkable witness to all – the spirit manifested by those on trial. Brother Howlett spoke here last Sunday night and told some of the experiences in the court room, the departure of the brethren after the sentence to the marshal’s office, of the meeting there of the families of those convicted, and the subsequent removal to prison. His remarks made a profound impression on all, and I know we were not theonly ones, because we have seen articles in Eastern papers commenting in like manner. He told about the jourmey to Washington and the kindly attitude manifested by the officers, and that it was the first time in historythat prisoners had been removed to Atlanta without being handcuffed, or the officers required to use their guns to force submission. It does seem peculiar that seven brethren were convicted, at noon on the longest day of the year, when the sun for a moment reached its zenith and waned. Then the dungeon experience, and the removal to Atlanta on a day when a national celebration was in progress. From the human standpoint all these incidents may seem ridiculous and absurd, but to us they mean a great deal, and surely indicate to our minds that prophecy is being fulfilled, and that when these experiences come about, then the time of our deliverance is nigh, and we can lift up our heads and rejoice. In reading some of the prophecies of Jeremiah, many of us are inclined to think that present conditions parallel his experiences, nad (sic) no doubt that book contains far more of the Plan that is apparent to the casual reader and observer.

Our experiences during the past weeks have been varied and numerous. In the swirl of events- new situations and old ones pending, the weeks have seemed moe like months, but in the midst of it all we have tried to be calm, fully submissive to the Divine Will and endeavoring at all times to seek His guidance, and so, we with others are going down the stream of time, realizing what a wonderful time it is in which to live and that subsequent to present stress, “A better day IS coming.” Present bitter experiences have surely straightened our faith, caused us to stand by one another all the more and to sympathize with one another more fully. Surely it is a time when everything that can be shaken will be shaken, and there is no longer any intermediate ground. The Scriptures tell us that brethren will hate one another and betray one another, and we have evidences of this too.

But in the midst of it all we have been happy, and have not neglected opportunities to take a little proper pleasure and recreation. On the 4^th of July, Pauline and I, her mother and father, Marguerite and the little fellow, spent the day in Tujunga Canyon. We left about 9 o’clock in the morning, had a nice drive up the Arroyo, and after leaving the new concrete highway had only a few miles to get down into a mice prt of the canyon, where we parked the car and walked a short distance ahead and prepared to spend the day under the shade of the trees, by the mountain stream, and under the lee of the cliffs. Pauline and I went in wading, and later tried to walk up the road a piece. It was an amusing incident. Not being accustomed to going barefoot, the rocks hurt our feet something fierce, and the ground was so hot that we would run a short distance and then hurriedly sit down and hold them off the ground, or carry a bunch of small branches and stand on them. When the sun was beginning to dent the rock-rimmed skyline, we departed and arrived in Los Angeles in tie to go to Eastlake Park, take a look around, listen to the band, and then return to our place here and have a few firecrackers and inexpensive fireworks – reminders of actual childhood days that seem far back in the distance past.

Not knowing what had been removed from Soda, and being rather handicapped in sending others up to look at what I did not know for sure was there, we thought best for me to take a turn up at the first opportunity and make a new inventory. Last Monday night Pauline and I met Sam in town, got to talking about the matter, and he stated that he would take us up in his Ford for a very reasonable sum. There was a lull for a few days on account of waiting to hear about the stage line decision, so we decided to go in the morning, and at once hurried preparations to get together a few simple articles of food for the trip. Tuesday morning at 5:30 saw us starting. At San Bernardino we had breakfast, went up over the pass, stopped at Victorville for a drink, and went on to Barstow. Here we loaded up on gas and water, and with Sam at the wheel, started on our second half of the journey across that 125 miles of desolation. We found new road signs placed by the U.S. Geological Department, and these were a welcome contrast to the weather-beaten boards we found over a year ago. For hours we crawled along over the typical desert road, and sunset found us climbing the long slope from “Bean Soup” Lake (so named previously) to the fourth summit on the trip, and about twilight, we reached the junction point where one road goes north to Cave Springs, and the other goes directly to Silver Lake. The Silver Lake Road Sam referred to as being like a chute the chutes, or a roller coaster, on account of its rolling surface, and as the machine bounced over it intermittently up and down almost without a pause, we thought the sensation quite similar only it was pretty rough, and we had to hang on. At 8:30 we stopped for supper. Sam and I stretched out on the sand and used the running board of the car for a table. It was a wonderful night, a soaring half moon lighting the vast expanse of sand and sage brush, tinging the tips of the volcanic spurs, and a warm breeze was the only sound that broke the silence. We figured that we would reach the camp in about four hours from this point. When we started a half hour later, we all took a drink and Sam poured the remains of the water into the radiator. We had insisted on taking a 5-gallon can of water, but Sam thought otherwise, and we did not feel like bossing the job, since it was not our car. The machine rolled and plunged over the rough road for an hour or more, and then just beyond a sign, it took a sudden turn and a rapid descent began, into what appeared in the darkness to be a canyon. The hot blasts of air that soon struck us indicated that we were headed for a lower level, and worst of all, we could neither identify nor remember this road. Some distance down we stopped, turned around in the sand with considerable difficulty and managed to get back to the summit. Thinking we had taken the wrong road, that the right one should lead along the summit of the ridge. But back at the starting point we did find two faint tracks in the sand, and these only ran about 50 feet and turned back into the course we had already taken, so we knew we would have to retrace our steps. We did so, and a little farther on, all trace of a road disappeared and we found ourselves going over sage brush and rocks in a widening wash that led continually downward. When further progress seemed impossible, we stopped for the night. Pauline stayed in the machine, Sam slept on the ground a short distance away, and I laid down alongside the machine. It was a hot night and no cover was needed. Then dark clouds arose to blot out the radiant track of the moon, shadows deepened in the canyon, and soon only the stars appeared in the vast vault above, and through the sage brush a strong wind howled mournfully. Having slept little or none, Pauline and I were stirring before sunrise, and looking down the wash which seems to stretch away into the interminable distance, we were surprised to see a man approaching. It was Sam. Being concerned as to where we were, and in an endeavor to find a road, he had wandered down the wash during the night, and unable to find his way back to the machine, had laid down and slept where he was and retraced his course at daybreak. We were terribly thirsty, but there was no water, and very little in the radiator. In a further endeavor to get our bearings, we went down the wash, climbed one of the ragged cliffs and anxiously searched that vast, silent void of desert and mountain for landmarks. Conjectures as to the location of Silver Lake and Soda were numerous, and at last we practically admitted that we were lost. Then the sun rose and the temperature changed from a sultry heat to a fierce blast that increased every moment. Sam suggested to drain the water out of the radiator into the canteen and start over the range and try to find our destination. This idea was abandoned and we determined to make an effort to get back to the summit. So we packed up, took a mouthful of the dirty water out of the radiator, and then the machine began its climb up the wash to the summit, and over the rolling course back to the signs and the junction point previously mentioned. I am sure three people never watched as carefully as we did for any road that might lead off from the one we were retracing, but none appeared. At the junction point we held another parley. There was no water to drink, the machine had only enough to go a few miles farther, we had been on the only road pointing to Silver Lake and could not find it. The last resort was to go in search of Cave Springs, five miles north. Then the machine made another desperate effort to get through the sandy road, and two miles up on the Cave Springs road we came across the remains of an abandoned mine. Sam thought sure the direction was right for Silver Lake and had identified landmarks up to that point, but the mine threw us off, and there was no water in sight.

Two miles farther we came to the head of another canyon, and the road leading down to this, or rather what had been a road before it was washed out, was so rocky and steep that to descend it seemed almost impossible, and Sam stated that with the water in the radiator nearly gone, if we ever got down, we could never get out again. He suggested that we fill the canteen with what was left and try that direction for Silver Lake. But weakened from loss of sleep, no water, and in the terrible glare and heat, Pauline and I did not feel equal to it, and we knew that Silver Lake lay some miles distant, in some direction, provided we could ever find it. To retrace our steps to any known spring was over 30 miles. If we went down the canyon wth the machine and found no water, we could not get out, so I think at heart we felt we were up against it in every way, and in the midst of the awful desolation and silence, I am inclined to think some dark pictures arose in our minds. Something had to be done, and at last, resigned to our fate, whatever it might be, we started in the machine down that winding, dangerous road into a narrow, rock-ribbed canyon. A mile and a half, or more, down the canyon, at a turn in the road, some willow trees came into view, and as we approached some doves flew out. “That means there’s water near,” said Sam, and we hardly whether to grasp it as a hope or not, because we knew what it meant if we did not find the springs. A short distance ahead I jumped out and started on the run for what appeared to be a spring walled in. It was simply a shelter, but arund another turn a sign appeared, and before I reached it I noticed the direction it pointed, and very plainly the sign, “Cave Springs.” The silence of that barren, rocky cavern was rent with a volley of whoops and a concentrated rush in the direction of the sign; and there in a niche in the rocks was a nice cool spring. The surface was covered with bird feathers and bits of sage brush, but by brushing this aside we could get clean water, and it seemed comparatively pure. The surroundings were quite unusal. It was a little rock cavern, not over a hundred feet long, very irregular, and in an easterly direction we could look down a long slope into the southern end of Death Valley – a weird, glistening, blinding patch of sand and alkali, a thousand feet or more below, bordered on the eastern side by the hazy, purple tinged mountains of the Panamint Range. On the south side of the cavern we found numerous holes in the conglomerate rock, remains of stone houses, or rather small rooms that had doubtless sheltered prospectors in the long ago, and one little dug-out, resembling a prospect hole, afforded shade and rest even in the hottest part of the day. It was just about noon when we arrived, and the sun blazed and scorched like an oven, but in the shade of the rocks we rested, ate a good lunch, had plenty of water to drink, and without much comment realized that perhaps the finding of the water prevented a desert tragedy, because Silver Lake is far south of Death Valley, and had we not found the spring and gone in that direction, I would not care to imagine the consequences. We poured the contents of our 5-gallon can into the fuel tank and filled this with water. Our vacuum bottle which had contained buttermilk on the way out, was also filled to say nothing of ourselves, and when it came to stocking up there was no limitation. Feeling now that we were prepared for a siege, we bade farewell to our oasis and the terrible valley below and began that fierce climb out. With the motor racing on lowfgear the machine grabbed and plunged and fought its way to the top of the canyon over the rocks and shade that just about tore the tires to pieces. Then we went back to the junction point, and seeing nothing else to do, again went back over the road that we had retraced – the only one indicated by the signs as being the Silver Lake route. Every foot of it was watched carefully for a road leading south, which we were sure was the right direction. Then we gave up entirely and quit conjecturing, and with an outburst of laughter Sam and I admitted that we were sure “horned.” Here another situation presented itself. We had been over this road, down the canyon the night before – twice – had been to the place where the road disappeared entirely. What was the use of going back there again. And if we did go and could not find Silver Lake, we would not have enough gasoline to get back to Barstow. We went as far as we dared – to the summit of the canyon, and here Sam and I climbed out to one of the nearby rocky points in a final attempt to get our bearings. And there, far ahead and below, beyond where we had stopped, stretching away across the sand waste like a tiny yellow thread, a road appeared, topped the distant sand dune, turned south, and beyond that and between two mountains, we made out what we determined to be Silver Lake. Still another range remained to be crossed.

Back at the machine a further discussion was held. Out in that land of mirages and treacherous canyons, we might be off. If we went down there and did not find our town, we would not get back on account of gasoline, and there was a grave danger of the tires giving out at any time, and if they did, it was simply impossible to go over the rough passages on the rim. But we finally agreed to it, and for the fifth time went over that stretch leading down into the wash, and there, not over 20 feet from where we had stopped during the night, we found a faint trace of a road. Quite a bit of it had been wiped out entirely, and this had thrown us off. This new course led down to the wash and finally into the long stretch across the valley, and holding on with both hands and our breath for fear the tires would let go any minute, we went after it. An hour and a half later we circled the rim of the sand dune and dropped down into Silver Lake, got a drink of soda, some food, and just at dark pulled into camp. It was a hot night. Sam and I went in the pool in an endeavor to cool off. We slept on cots out on the screen porch, where the hot wind nearly blew us to pieces. In the morning we made the rounds, looked over the place, posted signs, inspected the wagon, took a last look and at 2 o’clock started on the homeward trip.

At Silver Lake we again stocked on eats, gasolone and water, and the next big proposition was to get across that valley and up the wash without the tires failing. Out of the Silver Lake the sand was so deep that not even the bloomin’ Ford would pull it, and Pauline and I had to push the outfit. But we got back – to the summit, the roller coaster country too, and at dark reached our calculated destination – Garlick Springs, where we camped for the night. Here, on the road, is a nice spring, a little corral, a watering trough, and a little shack that is visited occasionally by its owner. We had a little campfire, fried some bacon and had a simple meal. And then we lay with our faces to the sky, with its myriads of bright stars and the soaring moon; there in the heart of the desert where the grim mountains watched like silent specters and the cool night breeze swept down to lull us to sleep. There in the midst of the elements that God made and glorified, far from the haunts of human institutions, selfishness and strife, what a contrast it seemed, and I know that little experience led us all to a greater appreciation of one another and particularly the One whose power hath for so long blessed us and who surely led us on, over the desolate places where death lurked, and where dangers lured. Somehow it reminded me of the journey of life – the desert experiences as well as the bright spots along the way, and of the power ever near, supreme yet silent as the elements, watching, guiding, keeping guard over us. It brought to mind the beautiful words of the Psalmist: “O Lord, thou hast searched me, and known me. Thou knowest my downsitting and mine uprising, thou understandest my thoughts afar off. Thou compasseth my path and my lying down, and are acquainted with all my ways. Whither shall I go from thy spirit? or whither shall flee from thy presence? If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there. If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; even there shall thy hand lead me and thy right hand shall hold me. If I say, surely the darkness shall cover me, even the night shall be light about me. Yea, the darkness hideth not from thee; but the night shineth as the day; the darkness and the light are both alike unto thee.”

The following morning we arose, rather glad to stir ourselves because the last hours were rather cold, and packed our stuff again for the last lap of the journey. Without a mishap we reached Barstow, then on to Victorville, down the pass, and at 7:30 arrived at Los Angeles. Thus ended the most interesting, rough and dangerous trip we have ever taken. The few photographs I am enclosing may be of interest to you.

Mother states she hopes to be in Atlanta soon, and that she will be permitted to see you occasionally. I wish this might be my privilege also, but for the present this seems impossible. Perhaps in the course of events and the outworking of Divine Providence we may see each other face to face, but even if this is not possible, then we are resigned to whatever the situation may be, knowing that a greater purpose is being accomplished.

“Lord, tho hast been our dwelling place in all generation. Before the mountains were brought forth, or even thou hadst formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting to everlasting thou art God. So teach us to number our days that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom, and let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us; and establish thou the work of our hands upon us; yea, the work of our hands establish thou it. There shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling. For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways. Peace I leave with you, my peace give I unto you, let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid. Now unto him that is able to keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy, to the only wise God our Saviour, be glory and majesty and dominion and power, both now and forever.”

With a special prayer for your comfort, blessing and guidance, and a like expression of love and sympathy for all of the dear brethren with you in bonds, I am, as ever,

Your most devoted son,

MALCOLM RUTHERFORD

Yet more on the second Mrs Albert Delmont Jones

by Jerome

I know that the second Mrs Albert (Royal) Delmont (Jones) is really off the topic of Watch Tower history, other than a footnote. However, her assessment of men which you will find at the end of this short article is an interesting footnote in itself. I have tried to restrain myself from writing too much, but Isabel Mulhall (Delmont) was a fascinating character. Albert obviously thought so, as an earlier newspaper article in this blog tells how he was first smitten by her picture. It was downhill all the way from then on.

Albert and Isabel were divorced in 1903 and the Washington Post stated that this was after Albert met “financial reverses.” Isabel briefly went on the stage, before becoming Mrs Sidmon McHie.  Somewhere around 1906 she was in the news for accusing her chauffeur of blackmail, a man who was then employed by Mr McHie.  Sidmon was a Wall Street operator and publisher – and millionnaire – you could smell the money. At a hurried secret ceremony they married in 1909. (see Washington Post, August 1, 1909).

Isabel thereafter went by the name of either Isabel M McHie or Isabel D McHie, and one assumes the D stood for Delmont. She must have had financial assets of her own or been given some by Sidmon, because in 1919 she and her husband made wills leaving the other partner as main beneficiary. This became complicated when they separated acrimoniously in 1925. In 1926 an agreement was forged where Sidmon would give her certain assets and also pay her an allowance of a thousand dollars a month for as long as she lived. But there was a condition. The sixth covenant of the document said (quote) – It is agreed that the parties shall live apart and separate and shall not annoy or molest each other (end quote).

Salmon stopped paying the allowance in 1932 claiming in subsequent legal proceedings that Isabel had indeed continued to annoy and molest him. He divorced her in 1936 on the grounds of HER “cruel and inhuman treatment.” (see Fifth Avenue Bank of New York v. Hammond Realty Co., Court of Appeals for Seventh Circuit, October 30, 1942).

Isabel made the newspapers quite regularly. One occasion she was locked in the brig of a steamship for causing a disturbance. (According to the Milwaukee Sentinel, December 20, 1942 she tried to sue the Cunard Steamship Line for $100,000 over the incident, but the company successfully proved she had been “obstreperous”). When choirboys practiced at a church opposite her she played Caruso records at full blast! (same citation from Milwaukee Sentinel). A ruckus at a Baltimore hotel resulted in her being committed to an asylum but she escaped when a Brooklyn clergyman (or someone dressed as one) came to visit with a heavily veiled woman, who exchanged places. (That is if the Brooklyn Standard Union for May 13, 1931 is to be believed).

As noted in a recent post on this blog, in 1935 she was taken off a train after throwing large sums of money out of it.

Isabel died in 1939 at the age of 63, after an exciting if not exactly happy life. She had been living at the home of her mother, Susan Mulhall and her final resting place was the Fresh Pond Crematory and Columbarium, Queen County, New York.   (Check it out on Find a Grave)

Her paranoia was indicated by her will, which provided substantial funds for an autopsy and investigation in case she had been poisoned.

Then the fun started again. Who would inherit her sizeable fortune? Her father, who had deserted the family nearly 60 years before, suddenly reappeared to make a claim. A younger person called a protégé, made a claim. Ex-husband Sidmon, who was still alive, made a claim. And the squabble went on until 1943, when finally her wishes were granted. (See Bingham Press, February 15, 1943). So where did the rump of her fortune go? It was left to a dog’s home that trained guide dogs for the blind.

And here is the punch line. Maybe it was the absent father, maybe it was the two husbands (both old enough to be her father, and including of course our ADJ) – but she planned a sculptured bust of herself in her own memory, headed by the words which also adorned her stationery. It was a quote originally attributed to Mme de Sevigne (1626-1696):

THE MORE I SEE OF MEN, THE MORE I ADMIRE DOGS!

If any are interested in reading more, and seeing the sculptured bust of Isabel, plus a candid photo of her elderly mother yelling at her even more elderly father after sixty years of separation, when they met on the court steps, have a look at this full page story. It mentions ADJ. Of course, I wouldn’t necessarily believe ALL that you read in newspapers.

http://news.google.com/newspapers?nid=wZJMF1LD7PcC&dat=19421217&printsec=frontpage&hl=en

(then go to page 78 of this document)

Isabel’s parents share a moment on the court steps in 1942.