Wormsloe, Savannah, Georgia: Rolling, Rolling, Keep Them Wheels a Rolling - Winter 2015-2016

Copyright 2015, CABS for Reflections From the Fence

Continuing our trek south and continuing our seeking out of places to visit that we have never visited before, during our stay at Skidaway State Park, we visited the Wormsloe Historic Site.  The park service has a nice history of the site, here.

The entrance is breathtaking, 1.5-mile of oak trees dripping with spanish moss.  Planted in celebration of the birth of a child in about 1890.  Yes, this is the site of movie making, including, "The Last Song" and "The General's Daughter".

You can see why this is so beloved and well photographed.

Because one photo just will not do.  LOL

We opted to take a guided tour, after we wandered through the museum.  The tour takes you past the cemetery.  Find A Grave notes the burial/cemetery.  If I remember what our guide told us, Noble Jones was originally buried there.  Then, re-interred at least once, however during the last "move", his body was actually lost.  

Reflections, beauty, sighhhhh:

Our tour guide, in period costume.  He explained the colors of his costume, the materials, the undergarments (his nightshirt is worn under his uniform).  

He also demonstrated the gun, did not capture any smoke on this shot demonstration.  It was loud tho.

The remains of the 1730ish home of Noble Jones, it orginally consisted of 5 rooms, 1.5 stories, made of tabby and wood, surrounded on 3 sides by a courtyard and walls 8 foot tall made of tabby.  Tabby is a local concoction, it is made of equal parts of fresh water, lime, sand and oyster shells.

The challenge of the day to all my friends who bake, make me a loaf of bread in this oven:

We leave this step into the past with the vision, the solider, the conditions, the memories of the past:

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The Rest of the Story, a Matter of Just Two Miles and Two Minutes

Copyright 2012, CABS for Reflections From the Fence

Yesterday I showed you the photos of the Central Georgia Railway Hospital and shared how that quick stop in Savannah gave me a sense of closure.  This is the rest of the story, how if we had made a decision to turn and not go just one mile more, I may never have had this closure.

Man and I are only here in the Savannah area for a few nights, basically honkered down for the Easter holiday weekend.  The crowds are huge, traffic heavy.  We had a short "hit" list, Tybee Island and Skidaway State Park, and Darien, McIntosh County, Georgia to visit the "reported" burial place for Joseph Eugene Bowen, his wife, Minnie Maud (Remley) Bowen and their son, Joseph E. Bowen, Jr. who died so young, just 22 years old and said to be blind.  That is another long story, short version, no headstones and the St. Andrews church records do not record their burials.

We did revisit Darien and the cemetery, on Friday, took some more photos (I had some), paid my respects, and even stopped in the local library, hoping beyond hope that I might find some new clues, none were found.

So, Saturday, we took off in Jolly with the fur kids to see the other hit list places.

This first graphic shows the route we ended up
driving, not necessarily what was originally
planned, starting:  at the campsite, # 1
the drive to Savannah, # 2
Tybee Island, # 3
3105 Bull Street, # 4
Skidaway State Park, # 5
back to the campsite #6

Our route, all mapped out.

(Now you must remember that Man and I are known for NOT over planning our days, we sorta let nature and happenstance take the reins of the day.)

On our way through Savannah on the way to Tybee Island I saw Bull Street pop up on the GPS map.  I had Man pull over, put the address in the GPS and realized it was about 5 or 6 miles maybe further to get back to the address.  I decided to forgo the stop at that point, just sighing and thinking, it was not meant to be.  And, so, onward we go towards Tybee Island.

We stopped first at Fort Pulaski (blog sometime in the future, enjoyed this immensely).  Next, the beach area of Tybee.  Crowds, horrible traffic, no parking, we never stopped.  Found the lighthouse, Man took photos from Jolly, with window down, no parking, we never stopped, missed the Battery, probably would have been pretty neat stuff, but, again, no parking.

We headed back to Savannah and the campground, planning on saving Skidaway for Sunday. I decide, lets see, maybe Bull Street now, put the address back into the GPS and realized it would not be far off our route and would not require any "turning around".  (We don't do turn arounds very well, hate to drive the same road twice, avoiding so if at all possible.)  So, I am now determined to get to that address and somehow we are going to find a parking spot, even if I have to walk blocks back.  My mission was set.

HOWEVER, 1 mile shy of my destination/mission we see the sign for Skidaway State Park and Man starts making noise about not missing it, lets go there, pushing hard for his cause.  At this point, it got a bit warm in Jolly and no, we did not turn off the air conditioner.  Some of the discussion was about only being 1 mile from my mission and we could go back that mile to the route to the park.  I am not sure Man was thrilled with me, but, I was a bit cranky and he finally just said, fine, as long as we can go back to the park.  NOT A PROBLEM (she thinks to herself and says to him).

It was meant to be, we found a parking spot for big ole Jolly with no problem, basically right on the property. I jumped out with Sony, started shooting my photos, shot the building from the left looking right, went out front to get a photo of the names of the occupants of the building now, went around to the right side to look left and take more photos, and saw those inscribed letters, walking closer, gasping at the words "Railway Hospital", immediately grasping the meaning, why Joseph was there.  It hit me like a ton of bricks, literally taking my breath away.

And, in the matter of a one mile detour (OK two miles since we had to go back,  LOL), 9 shots with Sony, 9 shots taken over just TWO minutes, I had solved one of those mysteries of our family history that become little burrs under your research saddle.  I had closure.

And, yes, we drove to Skidaway State Park, it is a beautiful place.

That said, the researcher in me thought those were the best two minutes of the day.  (And, a special thanks to Man for caving in, mmm, giving in, mmm, humoring me, mmm, granting me those few minutes and two miles of detour!)

Morale of this two mile two minute story, if you are that close, don't change your route or your mind. GO FOR IT!  All those years of wondering, questioning, sighing in disappointment are now a thing of the past.  Two miles, a mile there and a mile back, two minutes, and a little voice deep inside screaming - - DO IT NOW!!  DO IT!!  Some planning might not hurt either, but, of course, I wouldn't have such a fun story if we had planned, would I??

I am still amazed, a matter of just two miles and two minutes, and the closure.

Yes, genie researchers, it feels great!




* Graphics from Microsoft Streets and Trips.

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One Photo, Four Words, Just May Be The Answer

Copyright 2012, CABS for Reflections From the Fence

This building is located at 3105 Bull Street, Savannah, Georgia.  This is the address given as where my great-grandfather, Joseph Eugene Bowen, died.  I had been under the impression that it was a nursing home, now I wonder.

Another view, looking into the sun, some glare here:

Letting Sony zoom to that round section just about the columns, here is one of the words I discovered inscribed there:

This building was built about 1927 as the Central Georgia Railway Hospital.  It was closed in 1963.  My great-grandfather Joseph died there in 1948.  Yes, he worked for the railroad (which railroad is unknown) for a number of years.  His occupation on both the 1910 and 1920 census reports was section boss for railroad (or similar description).

NOW it all makes sense.  Why he was in Savannah when he had been living in Norfolk Virginia for many years, including the 1930 and 1940 census enumerations.  I suspect he was at the hospital because he had some kind of insurance and when he took ill, that is where he had to go for care.

My my.

Four words, inscribed for eternity, or until I discovered them.  During a prior visit about 10 years ago, I did not stop, nor take a photo.  This trip, we almost did not drive by, but, something made me insist.

My my.

Four words, and I feel closure.



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