Unfolding The Story Genealogy: George Washington Knight

Showing posts with label George Washington Knight. Show all posts

Monday, February 23, 2026

The Bride With Two Names—and the Clues Hidden in Ink: Mary Jane E. McGaw

On a cool March day in 1847 at the courthouse of Marengo County, Alabama, a young farmer named William C. Knight stepped forward to marry the woman he loved.

The clerk dipped his pen into ink and wrote the bride’s name:

Jane McGaw.

Nothing unusual — except the document wasn’t finished yet.

At the bottom of the very same record, the clerk carefully recorded her again:

Miss Mary E. McGaw.

Two names. One bride.
That single sheet of paper complicated the story.

Alabama County Marriages, 1711-1992, FamilySearch.org

Standing beside William was James P. McGaw. In antebellum Alabama, a bondsman was rarely a casual acquaintance. He was usually a father, brother, or close male relative of the bride, legally guaranteeing the marriage. If James signed, the bride belonged to the McGaw household.

Some later wondered whether she might instead have been Mary Elizabeth DeCastro, widow of William McGrew. The initials fit. But the record called the bride Miss — not "Mrs." Courts were exact in such matters, and a widow was never styled “Miss.” With that single word, the alternative quietly faded.

Then the land spoke.

On 31 May 1851, William McGaw and Hannah English executed a formal indenture conveying forty acres in Section 21, Township 13 to William C. Knight for $120.00. The instrument went further — Hannah separately assigned her title of dower in the property for the nominal sum of ten cents, legally releasing her lifetime claim so the land would belong entirely to William.

This was not a casual sale. It was the careful legal transfer families used to establish a married daughter and her husband. The daughter’s name was never written in the deed, but her presence was there all the same.

When census takers came in 1850 and again in 1860, they recorded the woman in William’s home simply as:

Jane E. Knight. Never Mary.

If her full name was Mary Jane Elizabeth McGaw, the record’s contradiction disappears. The clerk wrote her legal identity once — Mary E. — and her everyday name once — Jane. The census preserved both in between: Jane E.

Jane died sometime before 22 October 1864, when William remarried Frances Isabella Pratt. Memory lingered in the land, but proof lay in ink and paper.

On 30 September 1873, William’s three eldest children — Christopher, George, and Mary Knight — sold forty acres in Section 21, Township 13. Not different land. The very same property indentured in 1851 by William and Hannah McGaw. Those three were the eldest children of his first wife, Jane E. McGaw Knight, and their right to convey it followed directly through her.

The record holds firm across the years: the marriage bond, the indenture, the dower release, the census entries, and finally the children’s sale of the same acreage. Together, they trace an unbroken line.

The woman who married William C. Knight was not a widow with a similar name. She was the McGaw daughter whose brother signed her bond, whose parents settled land upon the marriage, and whose children later conveyed that very soil.

She appeared twice in the marriage record because she lived with more than one given name.

Mary Jane E. McGaw — known to her family, neighbors, and history simply as Jane.

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All primary source information referenced was obtained from a variety of published and archival materials, including books, historic newspapers, U.S. census records, vital records, probate files, and land documents. These sources were accessed through leading genealogical platforms such as Newspapers.com, Ancestry, FamilySearch, Find a Grave, as well as through local, state & federal archival repositories, libraries and private collections. Interpretive narrative may also include Carol Anna Meyer Brooks' personal experiences or family stories shared with her throughout her lifetime.

Monday, February 9, 2026

The Story in the Margins of Marengo County Censuses: George Washington Knight's Cobbler Beginnings

George Washington Knight was born on January 21, 1850, in Marengo County, Alabama—a place where cotton ruled and the rhythm of life followed the plantation bell. This was the heart of Alabama's Black Belt, where vast fields stretched toward the horizon and the economy ran on enslaved labor and King Cotton. For most people in Marengo County, there were only two paths: work the land or serve those who owned it.

George grew up on a farm where hard work from sunup to sundown wasn't just expected—it was survival. But somewhere between tending fields and helping with livestock, George discovered a different kind of labor, one that would shape his future: making boots and shoes.

In the rural South of the 1800s, manufacturing wasn't about factories or assembly lines. It was about necessity. Small workshops dotted the towns—Demopolis, Linden, Bladon Springs—where blacksmiths, carpenters, saddle makers, and shoemakers produced the goods that kept frontier life moving. Shoemaking wasn't glamorous, but it was essential. Plantation owners needed sturdy boots. Field workers needed shoes that could last. And someone had to make them.

By 1870, the shoemaking trade was quietly thriving in Marengo County. On the same census page, three men were listed as shoemakers: Miles L. Pruitt, age 30; Willis Perge, age 36; and Robert Gilbert, age 20. George, now 20 himself, was missing from that census—his father was enumerated in Township 13—so we don't know if their paths crossed then. But the pieces fit: a young man drawn to a craft, surrounded by skilled local artisans. In a county where trades were passed down through apprenticeship and observation, it's not hard to imagine George learning by watching, asking questions, and working leather until his hands knew the feel of it.

By 1880, George had become a Boot & Shoe Manufacturer in Choctaw County, now working in Bladon Springs alongside Miles L. Pruitt, age 40. A decade had passed since they'd both been in Marengo County. Now they were in the same small town, practicing the same craft. Did George apprentice under Pruitt? Did they share a workshop, trading techniques as they cut, stitched, and shaped leather into boots tough enough for Alabama's rugged roads? The records don't say. But the timeline suggests a mentor and a craftsman coming into his own.

That same year, the Choctaw County News advertised:

"Geo. W. Knight Fashionable Boots & Shoes
All work warranted – Quality of material guaranteed as represented. Baldon Springs, Ala."

George wasn't just making shoes. He was building a reputation. In a world where your name meant everything, "warranted" and "guaranteed" weren't just words—they were promises.

By 1885, the Choctaw Herald reported:

"Mr. M.L. Pruitt has moved his boot and shoe shop to the back room of Turner and Longe old store. The old stand he occupied will be used in future as a butcher shop."

You can almost see it: a small back room, light filtering through a single window, the smell of leather and wax thick in the air. George and Pruitt, side by side perhaps, working in quiet rhythm—cutting soles, punching eyelets, stitching seams that would hold through mud, dust, and years of wear. These weren't luxury goods. They were tools for living, made by hand in a place where craftsmanship mattered because nothing else was coming to replace it.

What's clear is this: George's hands, once rough from farm labor, became skilled in a trade that carried weight in his community. Whether he learned from Pruitt, pieced it together through trial and error, or absorbed the craft from the network of artisans around him, George Washington Knight became part of something larger—a tradition of local makers who kept rural Alabama moving, one pair of boots at a time.

His story is one of transformation: from the cotton fields of Marengo County to the cobbler's bench in Bladon Springs, stitching together not just leather, but a legacy that would support his family, earn him respect, and be the foundation of his entrepreneurial spirit.

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Monday, December 1, 2025

Written in Stone: Though Silent, He Speaks

The stone stands quietly beneath the Texas sky, its edges softened by more than a century of weather. At first glance, it seems like any Woodmen of the World monument—solid, steady, carved to resemble a tree that can never fall. But the closer you draw, the more it becomes clear: this is no ordinary headstone. These words were chosen with care, with love, and—perhaps most strikingly—with intent.

“Dum Tacet Clamat.”
(Though silent, he speaks)

The Latin motto seems almost to hush the cemetery around it. Even the breeze pauses, as if the stone is about to reveal something long forgotten.

George Washington Knight Sr., born in Marengo County, Alabama, lived a life that was rarely silent. His story stretched from the wooded hills of the early South to the bustling, changing streets of San Marcos, Texas. By the time he died, he had lived 68 years, and every one of those years left a mark deep enough that his family knew no simple inscription would suffice. His life had meant something—to them, to his community, and perhaps even to the ideals he carried.

And so they wrote.

“Single Taxer.”

On nearly any other headstone this would be puzzling, out of place. But George’s stone carries it proudly. A nod to the teachings of Henry George, the late-19th-century economist whose “Single Tax” movement believed in fair land use, equal opportunity, and justice in the ownership of soil. The inscription wasn’t political—this was a value, a philosophy. George Knight had been a man who believed in fairness down to the roots of society. A man convinced that justice wasn’t just a word, but a duty that ordinary people had to uphold.

“Imbued with love of Justice; He wronged none knowingly.”

These lines read like a verdict passed by the people who knew him best. They don’t simply praise; they testify. Someone—perhaps his children, true friend or a grateful neighbor—wanted future generations to know that George tried to walk gently through life. He conducted his business and voiced his opinions in an era when communities were tiny and reputations enormous. His daily work and his character had clearly been his truest occupation.

“Now among the blest; Served here 68 years.”

It is a simple statement of time, but it carries weight. Sixty-eight years of work, faith, family, struggle, and belonging. Sixty-eight years in a country that changed torrentially during his lifetime. From Reconstruction to telephones, from frontier cattle drives to early automobiles—George had lived through America’s growing pains and still managed to earn the reputation of a man who “wronged none knowingly.”

“Weep not, loved ones; God’s purposes are accomplished.”

This line almost reads like a whisper. A reassurance. A final attempt to comfort those he left behind. His family had known hardship—unexpected deaths, young children gone too soon, and later the scattering of descendants across Texas and beyond. Standing at his grave, they would have needed the comfort of believing that none of it was senseless, and that George’s steady life had not been lived in vain.

“Duty Calls.”

His final epitaph is short, but it is strong. It’s the kind of message that would have resonated with the Woodmen of the World organization—an order built upon mutual aid, service, and protection. But it also reflects George himself: a man who believed you did what was right simply because it was right.

Duty was not just his final call; it had been his life's calling.

The Story the Stone Still Tells

Today, the stone remains—weathered, steadfast, quietly eloquent. Children of the family may not know his voice. His great-grandchildren may not know the sound of his footsteps or the way he laughed. But his values were carved into granite, and through them, George Washington Knight Sr. still speaks.

Though silent, he speaks.
Of justice.
Of integrity.
Of a life well lived.
Of a man who left a legacy not written in books but inscribed in character—and in stone.

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All primary source information referenced was gathered from historic newspapers, U.S. census schedules, vital records, probate files, and land documents, accessed through leading genealogical platforms such as Newspapers.com, Ancestry, FamilySearch, Find a Grave, and federal archival repositories. Interpretive narrative may also include Carol Anna Meyer Brooks' personal experiences or family stories shared with her throughout her lifetime.

Tuesday, November 18, 2025

Threads of George

In the quiet towns of Alabama and beyond, the name George Washington Knight first appeared in the 19th century — engraved not in marble, but in brass and silver.

George Washington Knight Sr., Jeweler of San Marcos

Born in 1850 in Marengo County, Alabama, George Washington Knight Sr. grew up among the cotton fields and red clay roads of the Deep South. His boyhood unfolded through Civil War smoke and the uneasy peace that followed. By the time he set out for San Marcos, Texas, in the late 1800s, the frontier town was shedding its rustic shell, finding its rhythm in commerce and industry between Austin and San Antonio.

There, George Sr. built a modest shop near the downtown square — a sanctuary of measured patience and careful hands. Farmers brought in wind-up pocket watches worn by sun and dust. Newlyweds came seeking rings that would last a lifetime. Travelers paused to reset their timepieces before pressing west. In a world awakening to electricity and telephones, George worked quietly at his bench, bridging generations with gears and timekeeping — linking old ways to the dawning modern age.

He named his first son after himself, passing along both craft and conviction. The name George Washington Knight, he must have believed, carried more than heritage — it carried steadfastness, precision, and faith in good work.

George Washington Knight Jr., Postal Worker of New Orleans

Born in 1877 in Bladon Springs, Alabama, the second George came of age in a region still learning how to heal. By the early 1900s, he had made his life in New Orleans, where jazz hummed through open windows and steamboats puffed along the Mississippi. The city pulsed with commerce and change — and George Jr., the postal worker, kept its heartbeat steady.

His hands no longer fitted watch springs or polished clock faces; instead, they sorted letters, sealed envelopes, and carried the daily lifeblood of connection. He was a different kind of timekeeper — the clock by which families marked love and news across distance. Before there were phone calls or emails, he delivered presence through paper and ink. His work was quiet, steady, human.

The Third George: A Legacy of Movement

When his own son arrived in 1910 in Orleans Parish, the world again changed shape. Jazz was no longer a whisper but a force. Streetcars threaded the city like veins, pulsing with sound and light. The newest George carried his inherited name into a century that spun faster than any clock could measure.

The family’s story stretched along the Gulf Coast — from Alabama’s small towns to New Orleans’ boulevards and on to Mobile’s salt air and shipyards. In each generation, the Knights adapted: craftsmen, clerks, and couriers — always anchored by diligence, always moving forward.

Shadows and Echoes

But history doesn’t run in a straight line. Another George Washington Knight Jr., born in 1923 in England, lived only to age nine — grandson to the jeweler, boy of a world rebuilding from war. His brief life flickered like a candle in a storm, a reminder of both the fragility and endurance that thread through every generation.

In 1940, one last entry bore the name: George Dean Knight, a great-grandson, whose first breaths filled a world already plunging into global conflict. His life, too, was fleeting — yet he, too, marked a moment in time.

The Rhythm of a Name

Across nearly a century, five generations carried the same name through cotton fields, bustling ports, and the rhythms of changing cities. Each George lived in a different world, yet all of them shared an inheritance measured not in wealth, but in time. From the ticking of a jeweler's watch to the tapping of a mail clerk's canceling stamp, the name George Washington Knight has echoed across decades — a steady pulse under history's noise. And though they rest under different skies, the rhythm of their names still beat on, like an heirloom watch that never truly stops.

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Sunday, November 9, 2025

George Emil Knight: A Child Lost to Pernicious Anemia

George Emil Knight was born 31 July 1907 in San Marcos, Hays County, Texas, to Thomas Chittim Knight and Louise Lucile (née Huffmeyer) Knight. At the time, San Marcos was a compact but thriving community of about 3,000 residents, known for its agricultural economy, mercantile trade, and the presence of the Southwest Texas State Normal School (founded 1899, now Texas State University). The town drew families who sought both education and opportunity along the San Marcos River in the early 20th century. George lived just three and a half short years within this close-knit environment. According to available records, he was the third child of four children and part of his deeply rooted maternal German Texan family whose members had settled in south Texas during the mid-19th century, a common migration pattern among settlers from Prussia and Alsace.

A Child’s Struggle with a Fatal Disease

On 15 January 1911, George’s parents summoned San Marcos physician Edwin F. Beall, M.D., a respected figure in the local medical community who was often noted in the San Marcos Times for his public health work. Over the following three weeks, Dr. Beall made repeated visits to the Knight home, attempting to treat the child’s severe symptoms of pallor, exhaustion, and breathing difficulty. Despite these efforts, George died on 5 February 1911 at just three years, six months, and five days old. His death certificate lists the cause as “pernicious anemia.”

Section 17 of Death Certificate for George Emil Knight

At that time, pernicious anemia was effectively untreatable. Physicians in 1911 understood it only as a deadly form of anemia that defied improvement with iron or dietary measures. Although the underlying mechanism—failure to absorb what we now know as vitamin B12—was not identified until the 1920s, clinicians recognized the disease’s progressive weakness, weight loss, and neurological decline. The term “pernicious” derives from the Latin perniciosus, meaning “destructive” or “fatal,” reflecting its grim prognosis. George’s diagnosis was medically extraordinary as pernicious anemia typically afflicted older adults. Reports of pediatric cases before 1920 are exceedingly rare, making this an anomalous and tragic event even by the standards of early 20th-century medicine.

Medical Practice in Rural Texas, 1911

In small-town Texas in 1911, physicians like Dr. Beall had limited tools for treating anemia. Common remedies included iron tonics, Fowler’s solution (an arsenic-based preparation), and rest. Blood transfusions—though attempted since the 19th century—remained perilous and were rarely available outside major hospitals. It is likely that George received supportive care and perhaps various “blood-building” tonics popular at the time, while family members sought comfort through faith and community. The physician’s repeated attendance, noted on the death record, speaks to the era’s intimate doctor-patient relationships in rural practice. The family’s reliance on home care also reflects how most medical treatment before World War I remained domestic, carried out under the watchful eyes of parents and neighbors.

A Life Cut Short, a Future Discovered Too Late

George died just fifteen years before the discovery that could have saved him. In 1926, Drs. George Minot and William Murphy demonstrated that pernicious anemia could be treated with a diet rich in raw liver, a medical breakthrough that earned them and George Whipple the 1934 Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine. By 1948, vitamin B12 had been isolated, turning the disease from a fatal condition into a treatable one. When George’s short life ended in 1911, none of this knowledge yet existed. George was the first of his family to be buried in the San Marcos City Cemetery, among generations of local families. His story stands as both a family tragedy and a reminder of medicine’s remarkable progress—of how many children were lost before science caught up, and of the quiet families who bore that cost with grace and faith.

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Friday, March 21, 2025

A Voice for Change: George Washington Knight and the Fight for Women's Suffrage in Texas

The Home & State Newspaper, 1913

The struggle for women's suffrage in Texas was a protracted battle marked by persistent advocacy and societal resistance. As an independent republic and later as a state, Texas did not initially grant women voting rights. The prevailing customs and traditions held that governance was the domain of men, and many viewed the idea of women voting as a threat to the existing social order.

The issue of women's voting rights was first formally introduced during the Texas Constitutional Convention of 1868–69. Titus H. Mundine of Burleson County proposed extending the franchise to all qualified persons, regardless of sex. While the committee on state affairs approved this proposal, the convention ultimately rejected it by a vote of fifty-two to thirteen. Around the same time, Martha Goodwin Tunstall addressed a group of suffrage supporters in Austin, signaling early organized efforts for women's voting rights in the state.

Despite early setbacks, the movement persisted. By the 1910s, suffrage activism in Texas had gained significant momentum. In the midst of this growing movement, George Washington Knight of San Marcos, Texas, lent his voice to the cause. On July 13, 1913, in a letter published in "Home and State," Knight articulated his support for women's suffrage, arguing that women had always played a crucial role in shaping society. He questioned why they should not be granted the most effective means of enacting change: the ballot. However, while advocating for women's right to vote, he maintained that men were the dominant force in governance and physical labor. His letter was met with a mixed reaction—some suffragists saw it as a step forward, while others found his views on male dominance outdated.

Knight's article became a point of conversation among local suffragists in San Marcos, who used it as an opportunity to further public discourse. They emphasized that intelligence, moral judgment, and civic responsibility were not limited by gender. Knight’s letter, despite its traditionalist leanings, inadvertently fueled the local movement by bringing the issue into public discussion.

Shortly before Knight’s article was published, Mary Eleanor Brackenridge had already been working to mobilize suffrage efforts in Texas. In 1912, she formed the San Antonio Equal Franchise Society, a key organization in the fight for women’s voting rights. The following year, in April 1913, delegates from seven Texas cities met in San Antonio to establish the Texas Woman Suffrage Association (TWSA), with Brackenridge serving as its first president. At the April 1913 convention, she declared that their efforts marked the beginning of a new era in which Texas legislators would witness firsthand that women wanted the ballot.

Brackenridge continued to support the movement even after stepping down as an active officer. Her work, alongside other suffragists, helped pave the way for the Texas Legislature to grant women the right to vote in primary elections in March 1918. She became the first woman to register to vote in Bexar County, symbolizing a hard-won victory for Texas women.

Texas became the ninth state to ratify the Nineteenth Amendment on June 28, 1919, and the first Southern state to do so. That fall, all the Texas Woman Suffrage Association chapters transitioned into the League of Women Voters, following a vote at the state convention in October 1919. The journey toward women's suffrage in Texas exemplifies the broader national struggle for gender equality in voting rights. It highlights the importance of persistent advocacy and the challenging process of altering deeply ingrained societal norms. Knight’s contribution, though reflective of his time, played a small but notable role in the evolving conversation about women's rights in Texas.

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Monday, February 3, 2025

George Washington Knight, Sr. - The Vanishing Groom

The town of Butler, Choctaw County, Alabama, had never seen such a scandal. On April 13, 1886, Mr. George Washington Knight, Sr., a respected and prominent businessman, had surprised everyone by marrying Miss Mary Abigail “Abbie" Moody in an unannounced ceremony held at her father's home. Miss Moody, the charming daughter of the esteemed Dr. R.F. Moody, had long been the object of admiration, making the sudden union the talk of the town.

George Knight was no ordinary man. Before settling in Butler, he had served as a judge in Bladon Springs, Alabama, earning a reputation for fairness and wisdom. More recently, he had taken ownership of the town’s Drug Store. An article had once praised him, stating, "Special attention is called to the advertisement of Mr. George W. Knight, who has bought out the Drug Store in Butler. George is an attentive and energetic businessman, knows when and what to buy, and will doubtless render the Drug Store one of the most popular resorts in Butler."

With his growing success, George had every reason to stay in Butler. He had built a respected life, a thriving business, and now, starting a life with Abbie Moody. That was what made his sudden departure all the more shocking.

Early Tuesday morning, before the town had fully stirred from sleep, he packed his trunk, gathered his two young sons, and disappeared. He left no word, no explanation, not even a note for his wife. By the time Abbie realized her husband had abandoned her, the hotel manager informed her that he had settled his account and departed without so much as a goodbye.

The news spread like wildfire. Butler was aghast. Why would a man with such a firm standing in the town throw it all away overnight?

At first, people struggled to make sense of it. George had no debts, no troubles that anyone knew of, no reason to flee. If anything, he had only been solidifying his roots in Butler. He had built a reputation as a reliable businessman, and his recent marriage seemed to confirm that he intended to stay.

So, if George had not planned to leave, what had forced his hand?

As time passed, the whispers turned toward Abbie. Why the rushed nuptials at her father’s home? Had she kept something from George? Or was she not truthful about something, perhaps? Or was there something darker — a family secret, a scandal whispered only in the most trusted company? It has been suggested by some that George discovered the truth on their wedding night and, being profoundly shocked, chose to leave rather than address the situation directly.

But the truth remained buried between George and Abbie. Neither of them ever remarried.

Mr. Knight settled in San Marcos, Texas, where he quietly opened a jewelry repair shop in May 1886. He became known for his fine craftsmanship, his steady hands, and his solitary nature. He never spoke of Butler, never mentioned the wife he had left behind.

And Abbie—Abbie remained in Butler, forever shadowed by the disgrace of a marriage that had lasted mere days. She carried on with quiet dignity, never entertaining another suitor.

Yet, behind closed doors, the rumors never ceased. What had truly driven George Knight away so suddenly? Had he abandoned his wife, or had he escaped her? No one would ever know.

And so, the mystery of George and Abbie remained just that — a mystery, sealed in time, known only to the two who had lived it.

Read the newspaper article: The Choctaw Herald, Butler, AL, Apr 22, 1886, p 3

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Monday, February 5, 2024

The Mercantile Businessmen

Throughout the research on my paternal ancestors, there has been a theme of mercantile businessmen. My great grandfather, Thomas Chittim Knight, after returning from the 1^st Regiment Texas Calvary in the Spanish American War, dabbled in the laundry business.[1] He placed advertisements in the Southwest Texas State Normal Star School Newspaper from December 1911 through April 1912.[2] My second great grandfather, George Washington Knight, started a mercantile business in Bladon Springs, Choctaw County, Alabama for boots & shoes as described in an advertisement published 6 October 1880.[3] Later he expanded his business endeavors by purchasing a drug store.[4] George moved to San Marcos, Texas circa 1886 and opened a jewelry business. He furthered his business acumen to include eye glasses, music instruments, sewing machines, razors, typewriters and china.[5]

After serving as a Texas Ranger in the Frontier Forces, my second great grandfather, Emil Huffmeyer, settled in Bandera, Texas.[6] He established the Huffmeyer Store in 1873 and later his brother joined him on this venture. This property is now a historical landmark.[7] He later relocated to San Marcos, Texas and again opened a mercantile business circa 1895 and then added a partner in 1899; the business known as Huffmeyer and Fourqurean.[8]

Henry Huffmeyer, my third great grandfather emigrated from Germany to the United States and settled in San Antonio, Texas. He was recorded as the first shoemaker of San Antonio.[9] Lastly, my third great grandfather, William “Bill” Jernigin settled in Cow Hill, Texas in the 1840s and served in the 2nd Regiment, Texas Calvary State Troops during the Civil War.[10] He built a store with his sons in 1873 in the area that became Commerce, Texas.[11] The Jernigin’s Store was designated a historical landmark in 1982.[12] Bill also donated land for the Commerce Town Square and property for the local Masonic Lodge.[13]

The mercantile entrepreneurial spirit raged within my paternal ancestors’ hearts and souls resulting in multiple successful businesses. In all their efforts, each one gave back to the community in the form of service or support driving economic growth and expansion for the benefit of the people in the area.

[1] U.S., National Cemetery Interment Control Forms, 1928-1962, A1 2110-B; online database with images, Ancestry.com (https://www.ancestry.com/imageviewer/collections/2590/images/40479_2421401574_0447-01496?pId=2054417 : accessed 5 February 2024); citing Records of the Office of the Quartermaster General, 1774-1985, Record Group 92; National Archives, College Park, MD.

[2] Knight, Thos. C., Laundry Advertisement; Normal Star Newspaper, San Marcos, Texas; 19 April 1912; Vol.2, Ed.1, Page 4 of 4; online database with images, The Portal of Texas History (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth614536/m1/4/?q=%22Thos%20C%20Knight%22 : accessed 5 February 2024).

[3] Knight, George Washington, Advertisement, Choctaw County News, Butler, Choctaw County, Alabama, 6 October, 1880, Vol. IV, No. 37, Page 2 of 2; online database with images, Newspapers.com (https://www.newspapers.com/article/choctaw-county-news/112839541/ : accessed 5 February 2024).

[4] The Courier Newspaper, Butler, Choctaw County, Alabama, 7 December 1881, Vol. 1, No. 6, Page 3 of 4; online database with images, Newspapers.com (https://www.newspapers.com/image/575967659/ : accessed 5 February 2024).

[5] Knight, George Washington, Christmas Advertisement; Normal Star Newspaper, San Marcos, Texas, 15 December 1916; Vol. 6, Ed. 1 Page 2 of 4; online database with images, The Portal of Texas History (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth614592/m1/2/ : accessed 5 February 2024).

[6] Stephens, Robert W., Texas Ranger Indian War Pensions, Nortex Press, 1975.

[7] Texas Historical Commission application, Old Huffmeyer Store, Bandera, Texas; online database with images, The Portal of Texas History (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth488953/?q=Huffmeyer : accessed 5 February 2024).

[8] Huffmeyer & Fourqurean, Advertisement; The Hays County Times and Farmers Journal, 28 April 1899, Vol. 12, Page 4 of 8; online database with images, San Marcos Public Library, Community History Archive, (http://ttwc.advantage-preservation.com/viewer/?k=huffmeyer&i=f&by=1899&bdd=1890&d=01011873-12312020&m=between&ord=k1&fn=the_hays_county_times_and_farmers%27_journal_usa_texas_san_marcos_18990428_english_4&df=1&dt=9&cid=2852 : accessed 5 February 2024).

[9] Huffmeyer, Henry, Record ID No. LCJY-MNT; Memoranda by A Pioneer Family, unknown author; unknown publication; online database with images, FamilySearch (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth488953/?q=Huffmeyer : accessed 5 February 2024); contributed by Tim Huffmeyer.

[10] U.S., Civil War Solider Records and Profiles, 1861-1865; online database with images, Ancestry.com (https://www.ancestry.com/discoveryui-content/view/4172900:1555?ssrc=pt&tid=58937643&pid=132362941033 : accessed 5 February 2024); citing American Civil War Research Database, Historical Data Systems, Inc.; Duxbury, Massachusetts.

[11] Welcome to Commerce, About Page; online database, CommerceTx.org (https://commercetx.org/contact-form/ : accessed 5 February 2024).

[12] Texas Historical Commission Marker, The Jernigin’s Store; online database with images, HMdb.org (https://www.hmdb.org/m.asp?m=119793 : accessed 5 February 2024).

[13] Masonic Lodge marks 81^st Anniversary Here; Commerce Journal, Commerce, Hunt County, Texas, 7 June 1956, Vol. 87, No. 23, Page 1; Newspapers.com (https://www.newspapers.com/image/37173123/?clipping_id=105870529&fcfToken=eyJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiIsInR5cCI6IkpXVCJ9.eyJmcmVlLXZpZXctaWQiOjM3MTczMTIzLCJpYXQiOjE3MDcxNTMyNTAsImV4cCI6MTcwNzIzOTY1MH0.v-AbwshQc2elh8JBtEdbcGwHdZU_p0KK-D8tyjehHIw : accessed 5 February 2024).

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Monday, January 22, 2024

Photography: A Shared Connection with my 2nd Great Grandfather

By the age of eighteen, George Washington Knight moved out of his father’s home with hopes of a different life.[i] It must have been the unprecedented economic transformation and industrial growth in America that fueled George’s ambitions. Beginning in 1870, the camera design was evolving and the changing method to produce images started the movement that made photography available to the general public.[ii] George along with a partner, surname Robertson, ventured into the photography business. They placed several photography advertisements that ran from 1 October 1872 through on 19 November 1872 in the The Democrat newspaper for services in Grove Hill, Clarke County, Alabama (a neighboring county about 24 miles from George’s childhood home).[iii] As described in their advertisement, the ferrotype process resulted in an underexposed image that could be taken and developed in minutes.[iv] Until this time, early cameras required exposures of several minutes to half an hour. Patrons would need to choose a pose they could hold for that length of time; no wonder no one is smiling in early photographs! Who could hold a smile for thirty minutes? George and his partner would likely setup quickly and produce a product in a short period of time allowing them the mobility to move from location to location with ease. I was overjoyed to find these articles and know that we share a photography connection. He called himself a "Photographist" and I call myself an "Amateur Photographer." Research project list: locate photographs taken by Robertson & Knight; likely a long shot, but who knows what is waiting to be found.

[i] 1870 Federal Census, Marengo County, Alabama, Page 64; online database with images, Ancestry.com, (https://www.ancestry.com/imageviewer/collections/7163/images/4257605_00606?pId=13199942 : accessed 22 January 2024). Entries for William C Knight family, lines 7-13, George Washington Knight’s father.

[ii] Gaylord, Chris (2011, November 18). Louis Daguerre: Why people never smile in old photographs. The Christian Science Monitor. (https://www.csmonitor.com/Technology/Horizons/2011/1118/Louis-Daguerre-Why-people-never-smile-in-old-photographs#:~:text=Grinning%20exercises%20far%20too%20many,for%20the%20image%20to%20work. : accessed 24 January 2024).

[iii] Robertson & Knight. (1872, October 8). Photographists, Grove Hill, Alabama. The Democrat, XVII(19). 2.

[iv] Harding, Colin. (2013, May 25). How to Spot a Ferrotype, Also Known as a Tintype (1855-1940). Science + Media Museum. (https://blog.scienceandmediamuseum.org.uk/find-out-when-a-photo-was-taken-identify-ferrotype-tintype/ : accessed 22 January 2024).

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