February, 2012


Horace Lawton Story

Young Lawton Story turned over in his bed and buried himself deeper in the linen and quilts, hoping he was dreaming. But the knock on his door returned. He was not dreaming. It was time to wake up.

Life on the Story farm was a huge responsibility for an only son. At the time, Lawton had four sisters who stayed busy learning to sew and sing. The older two girls loved reading the family bible and poetry. All the girls were interested in making hats.

But as the oldest child, the hard work of the farm fell squarely on young Lawton’s shoulders. He dressed quickly in the dark and made his way through the hall and downstairs as quietly as possible. He was a thoughtful brother who did not want to wake his sisters. Downstairs in the kitchen, his mother, cut open hot biscuits and slipped a thick slice of good Lincolnton country ham in them, as she greeted him, “Good morning sleepy head!”

Lawton sat down and downed his breakfast. He had wasted a good part of the morning. It was almost five-thirty.

“Good morning son,” said Rad Story as he entered the room and poured himself another cup of hot coffee. “I’ve already fed the horses, couldn’t wait for you any longer. Better bundle up! It’s brutal out there; one of the coldest mornings yet.”

Lawton finished up breakfast quickly. It was time he headed out to the barn. An hour every morning before going to school, he twist corn.

“Son, if you don’t get with it, we won’t have enough corn seed to plant this spring. How many seed bags do we have now?”

“I’m working on the second one Papa,” answered Lawton.

“That’s not nearly enough. Go on out there and get started. I’ll help you if I can.”

“Thanks, Papa.”

Sallie Story wrapped four more biscuits for her young son to take to school for lunch. “Do like your Papa says and bundle up. It is cold out there.”

It was cold for this part of Georgia and the wind made howling sounds, not to mention, it was dark as night. And the sisters were still snuggled in their beds nice and warm. Truth be known, Lawton really enjoyed the company of his sisters and their reading and singing and creative sewing. Growing up in a household full of “women” made Lawton a natural socializer.

Young Lawton Story was no stranger to responsibility, even on Sundays. The Rad Story family belonged to the Arimathea Methodist. Young Lawton took care of the horses and buggies during the service. He stood by an open window of the church to hear the singing and preaching. Sometimes he watered and cared for as many as sixty horses during the worship service. Lawton loved the social world around and about Lincolnton.

And now here he sat in the dark barn, freezing cold, with a single lantern. He must have wondered, “What is wrong with this picture?” But he did not want to disappoint his father and so Lawton slipped off his gloves that his mother forced on him. No one could twist hard kernels of corn off the dried cob with gloves on.

Being a farmer in the 1890s was a tough job all year round. In the spring-time, it was cultivating the ground with plows harnessed by livestock; then came the planting. Summer-time was weeding and irrigating.  Late summer and fall was harvest time which brought in the fresh crops and started the job of drying, canning and curing. Winter-time was just as busy. It was the time to plow up the fields to make room for the next crop, and replace the seed supply. Without seed, there would be no spring-time planting.

Young Lawton would not let his father down. So, he twisted the corn until his callused hands almost bled.

“How’re you doing in here, son?” asked Rad as he slipped in between the barn doors.

“I’m alright, sir.”

Sallie and Rad Story

“Need some help?”

“Yes sir,” replied Lawton with a big smile on his face.

Rad Story seldom had time to help his son with the seed process, but this cold morning he made an exception.

“My hands are almost frozen!” said Rad Story as he rubbed his hands together. “This might warm my hands up, what do you think?”

“Maybe.”

“Okay, Lawton, throw me a few of those corn cobs, careful now.”

Lawton would one day grow up to be six feet and five inches tall, just like his father. This morning he was just a tall lanky kid not realizing his own strength. He carelessly threw a corn cob at his father too wild to catch. The cob hit his father’s frozen hand sending horrendous throbs of pain throughout his hand.

With that the tall stout father stood and turned Lawton’s backside around. Rad swatted his son a couple of times. Rad quickly regained his composure and said, “I’m sorry son, but it hurt so bad; I just had to whoop you a little.” Rad Story held his hand close to his chest and went round in circles until the throbbing stopped.

Lawton twisted the corn alone until school time. Lawton was not happy. Never in his life had his father laid a hand on him. But today on this cold and dark morning, Lawton had his first and only “whooping.” More than anything, his heart was broken.

Lawton did not do well at school that day. He did not want to socialize with his friends, not even his special friend, Nancy Bentley. Lawton had a lot of thinking to do. After school, he twisted corn for another hour. Then the tired lad went to bed right after supper. He did not even want to listen to his sisters read that night.

Nor could he sleep. The warmth of his mother’s quilts comforted him, but he could not relax enough to fall asleep. He was hurt, angry and most of all, he felt disconnected from the most important person in his whole life, his father. Yes, this little boy cried.

Then, he got to thinking. He would not be treated that way by his father. Nor would he work for him. Nor would he ever set eyes on him again. Papa could twist his own corn. Papa would be sorry.

Lawton had a plan.

Lawton would rise earlier than his father. That meant he had to get up before four o’clock in the morning. May as well call it night-time. May as well leave now, since it’s a long walk to the Thomson Train Station. Who knows? Maybe he’d get lucky and catch a ride on the back of some buckboard. He would quietly ease through the sleepy house and take a bag full of left over cornbread and biscuits. He would pour all of his hard earned coins into a sock and stuff it into his pocket. He would then set out for the train depot. He would not be here when Eugene and Mr. Goat stopped to pick him up in the goat cart; he would not go to school today. Eugene and Mr. Goat would have to go without him. He would catch a train to where ever and be gone before anyone could find him.

And that is exactly what he did, well maybe not exactly. Lawton did make it to the Thomson Train Station. All the biscuits and cornbread were gone by the time he got there. Just as he was about to purchase a ticket, he spotted the candy jars. Why not? So he purchased a piece of candy, then another, and another. Before long, Lawton was out of money and could not purchase a ticket to anywhere but here.

What was he to do?

Lawton sat down on an old church pew in the depot and stared into space. He watched the movement of the day as his eyes followed the sun up through the cracks of the wall. He knew his father was looking for him, and by now was frantic. Heck, not just his father. His sisters were out of bed, running around and screaming his name. As unpleasant as the situation was, the thoughts of his sisters out in the cold calling his name brought a little smile to his face. But he could not allow himself to think of his precious mother. Funny thing, he had not thought about what Mother would do when she realized her only son was missing. His heart broke as he fought back the bitter tears of regret. And when he thought of his cousin, Eugene, going to school without him, it made him sad. Who would help Eugene out of the cart and hand him his crutches?

Young Lawton sat on the pew. It had been a long day. He was tired and his feet hurt.

But what could he do now? He could not go home. And he still felt anger toward Papa.  He did not know what to do, so he did nothing. Young Lawton sat still as a mouse and hoped to disappear on that church pew in the train station. He sat there all day, and occasionally caught himself drifting into sleep. When awake, he followed the sun through the cracks in the wall as it made its way back down. It was about “eventide” now. Then he got a glimpse of something he would know anywhere, his father’s white stallion.

Lawton froze. His eyes followed the horse through the cracks in the train station wall as it made another circle, then another circle, and another. Twenty minutes passed and he continued to see the white horse circle the train depot, walking very slowly. Then the white horse stopped and did not circle again. Lawton sat there for as long as he could stand it, then stood to his feet. He knew that his father was waiting for him. And anyway, he had missed lunch and supper. It was time to face the music. It was time to face Papa.

Young Lawton slowly walked to the door and opened it. He mustered the courage to lift his head and look up. And there in front of him was his father, Rad Story, sitting atop his white stallion.

And for some reason, the young lad was not angry at his father anymore. In fact, Papa and his white horse was a “welcomed sight for sore eyes.”

Rad sat still and Lawton stood still for a few moments. Lawton knew he had to make the first move. He slowly approached the horse and stopped.

Rad Story made the next move.

“Son, are you ready to go home?”

“Yes, Papa,” whispered young Lawton.

Rad Story lifted himself up and sat down behind the saddle. He leaned down to offer his hand and said, “Here son, you sit here. It’ll be past your bedtime by the time we get home.”

Young Lawton took his father’s hand and was lifted atop the horse. With the movement of the withers, and the darkness of night for a blanket, young Lawton relaxed and lied against his Papa and fell asleep.

He awoke the next morning in his own bed. And he was allowed to sleep late, just this one time. Had the boy been awake last night when he arrived home, he would have known that it was Papa that held him in his arms like a newborn baby and carried him upstairs to bed. He would have known that his little sisters ran breathlessly and opened doors for Papa as they squelched their excited giggles. And that it was Mother who placed an extra quilt on her son as she kissed his head.

Many years later at my Aunt Sarah’s home on Morgan Road in Tucker Georgia, Lawton Story and his sisters, met for a long over due supper and fellowship. Four of his sisters were there. Theo had long since passed away and was buried in Decatur, Georgia along side her mother and Uncle Charlie.  They were all there in spirit for their names were mentioned often.

The elderly ladies were fascinated by the Story family crowd that showed up to greet them. They were proud of their big brother’s nine children and “so many little grands!”

PaPa Story’s sisters were Annie “Maude” (b.1888), Theodosia “Theo” (b.1892), Eddy Gaines (b.1893), Marion Pierce “Reesie” (b.1895) and baby Ruth Radford (b.1901) Story. It was there that my sister, Patricia, heard that Radford Gunn Story and Sallie Elizabeth Gunby-Story’s first born child was a son, stillborn. Their second child was Lawton, our grandfather, and then the five daughters.

The conversation went from the present Storys to the long gone Storys. The sisters laughed as they recalled their millinery shop in Lincolnton, and which sister was the most creative. My grandfather, now our “PaPa Story,” talked about how hard the work was on that Lincolnton farm. He could never get rid of all “those rocks.” He smiled often as he recalled the fun he had with his “little sisters.” He teased them about “getting to sleep late.”

“Oh sure, Lawton, six o’clock was late!” They teased back at their brother, and laughed the night away.

PaPa Story spoke with regret that with all the grandchildren he had, not one was named, “Sallie,” for his precious mother. And of course, they all recalled “Papa’s white horse.” And even Baby Ruth remembered Papa on the white horse, and she was but three years old when Rad Story met an untimely death.

But my grandfather, Lawton Story, Sr., was most touched and could not hide the tears in his eyes when he spoke of his kind and gentle father and the day he ran away from home. The sisters listened with compassion.

“I had nowhere to go since I spent my train ticket money on candy. I stayed there all day. About eventide, I saw Papa’s white horse walk slowly round and round the depot, and then it stopped. I knew Papa was waiting for me. I slowly gained courage to walk out of the train depot. When I looked up and saw Papa sitting atop that white stallion, my heart melted. It was the most beautiful sight I have ever seen. Papa sat on his horse looking straight ahead, a perfect profile – looked like a portrait. I wanted to run up and cry out – I’m sorry Papa! Please take me home!”

Then PaPa Story looked about at all of his grandchildren and laughed with pure pleasure. He knew that whenever he mentioned the white horse, he had our attention. That’s when he would say, “And it was a beauty of a horse, a Saddlebred; a horse that could be ridden all day. Papa said that horse was so smooth, he could’ve been sitting on a comfortable chair. I wish you could’ve seen Rad Story sitting on that white stallion…”

Author’s Note:

The portrait of Sallie and Rad Story was damaged when Lawton Story’s young children poked their grandmother’s eye balls out with a pencil. My sister, Patricia Story-Logan, had the eyes replaced.

Horace Lawton Story was born in 1886 on the Mistletoe Farm owned by his grandfather, Henry Allen “Buck” Story. They later moved to a house that Rad Story built in Lincolnton. Both farms are now under water, Clarke’s Hill Lake sometimes called Strom Thurmond Lake. The Buck Story farm was also a part of what is now known as Mistletoe State Park.

 

 

Patricia and Diane Story

“Papa, why do you call me, Petunia?”

“Because you are beautiful and sweet, just like a petunia,” answered the old man as he slowly rocked on his front porch.

The old man was speaking to my sister, Patricia Anne Story. She was the granddaughter who soaked up his stories of old – stories about Colonial America, Georgia, England and Scotland. Our beloved grandfather was patriarch of the Story family who lived in Tucker, Georgia. He liked Tucker, but his heart belonged to Lincoln County Georgia, where he was born and raised. It’s where he met his true love, Nancy Bentley. He was the awesome Horace Lawton Story, Sr.

Those stories only served to wet Sister’s whistle. (If he’d only known what he started!) As an adult, Patricia spent hours on end researching courthouses, archives, museums, libraries, and cemeteries (She once fell into a rotted grave! Thank you Aunt Nancy for pulling her out!). Add a life time with aunts, uncles and cousins, gathering and confirming information about our family: Story, Bentley, Ramsey, Gunby, Montgomery, Smalley, Paschal, Duckworth, Swint, Digby, O’Neal, Tankersley, Eubanks, Briscoe, Newton, Hardin, and Reid families, all of which make up the Horace Lawton Story family.

Patricia took on the huge project of refurbishing old and damaged family photographs, even hiring an artist to replace the eye balls of our great-grandmother Sallie Gunby-Story in a portrait. Sallie’s eyes were poked out with a pencil while Lawton and Nancy’s children were young. The refurbished photo can be found in the story Thomson Train Station.

I grew up with little interest of the past, especially the deceased. (What was Sister thinking?) But upon each return from a Lincoln County exploration, she infiltrated my mind little by little. The information about our bygone family swirled in my head until I was in. I wrote little stories about them. Then I too had to return to Lincoln County to see for myself, see the lake that swallowed me up at age four, see where Aunt Donn lived, see the monuments that bore the names of my grandfathers of old, and search out any clues that we were there.

When I have a question, I call Sister. She graciously answers any time day or night. If she can’t recall instantly, she says, “Let me get back to you with that one.”

And she does. Thank you, Patricia!

I would like to acknowledge the following for their contribution to The Ghosts of Lincoln County:

Our inspiration: Papa Story – Horace Lawton Story, Sr., also (Aunt) Nancy Bentley Story-Goss, Robert Randolph Story, Vickie Graves-Watkins, Gene Graves, Patricia Moss, Dwain Moss, Tom Poland, Bill Tankersley, Laverne Story-Stanley, Darryl Bentley, and Allan L. Bentley. And, the Lincoln Journal, the sweet ladies at the Thomson Library, McDuffie Museum, Thomson Chamber of Commerce and the Washington Chamber of Commerce, and Aunt Donn for her Southern hospitality in her Lincoln County home so many years ago.

And last but not least, I would like to thank my father, Thomas Jonathan Story, Sr., for instilling the love of Lincoln County in my heart.

Painstaking detail has been made to present the correct information, particularly with names, dates, places and history, though The Ghosts of Lincoln County is not a history book. Just enough history is provided to create a setting for a story about real people and how their lives marked community, family and the State of Georgia. Creative license has been used to round out some of the stories, particularly with “conversations.”

The Ghosts of Lincoln County  (c) copyright 2016 by Diane Story All Rights Reserved

Horace “Lawton” Story, a tall man of six feet and five inches, worked tirelessly to rid his inherited Lincolnton farm of rocks; a never ending battle every farmer faced on Clarke’s Hill. And while at that home, “Nancy” Elizabeth Bentley-Story, gave birth to eight children. They had nine, but their fourth son, Robert, was not born in the Lincolnton farmhouse built by Lawton’s father, Radford Gunn Story. He was born in Uncle Ed Gunby’s general store.

Lawton said many times that he knew Nancy Bentley was the girl for him even as a young boy at school. He knew it for a fact, when Nancy “whopped” him on the head with her lunch pail for teasing her little brother, Caleb.

“Pick on some one your own side Lawton Story!” she yelled back at Lawton as she walked ahead with her protective hand on little Caleb’s shoulder. Lawton loved highly spirited people and he was impressed. He soon learned to befriend little Caleb Bentley was to befriend his sister, Nancy. Nancy and Lawton became best friends. And on a pretty September day in 1906, Lawton and Nancy married in a horse drawn carriage.

Lawton and Nancy’s first born was a daughter – much to their delight! The baby girl’s name was decided on many generations before she was born. Nancy’s mother was Grace Amelia Ramsey, her mother was Grace Caroline Hardin, and her mother was Grace Reid (born 1791). It was said that Grace Reid and her brother rode to Georgia on horseback all the way from Virginia. The song “Amazing Grace” was taken as the family song and served as a guide to live and die by. It was the fate of the Graces and all who touched their lives.

The Bentley family tradition honored the Grace of God by naming the first born daughter, Grace. Nancy’s family honored each child with a special name, captivating family history within the name.

And so it was, Lawton and Nancy were honored to name their firstborn child, Grace Truman Story. Grace for the Grace of God, and Truman for Dr. Truman Briscoe, one of Lawton’s great-grandfathers, who was a medical doctor, born in 1747.

And it would seem that Lawton and Nancy were plenty busy naming children, but the couple did not name their children at all. Nancy’s sister, Dieudonnee “Donn” Bentley, actually named all nine of them.

Donn was born in 1881 making her the fourth child of the eight children of Dennis and Grace Ramsey-Bentley. Donn was a school teacher and devoted her life to her students and the children of her little sister, Nancy Elizabeth Bentley-Story. Donn’s life was filled with jobs teaching, overseeing land and timber, and making sure her little sister’s children had proper names. And she had an end all Southern accent!

Donn had Grace named, it was time for another. This went on about every two years. The second child was a boy, Horace “Beau” Lawton Story, Jr.

“Now little Lawton my deah, I named you in honoh of yoah fathah, and Horace Lawton is a very fine name. Horace is a name straight out of the classics, the Roman classics. But for some reason, yoah fathah insist on calling you Beau. I suppose ‘Beau’ is a good name, not one that I would have chosen. But, aftah all he is yoah fatha and I shall abide by his wishes.” Donn would shake her head in disapproval, “Sistah knows I do not approve of nicknames.”

Donn named the third child, Sarah Elizabeth Story.

“I named you Sarah, because the name Sarah means a highly ranked woman; a princess mind you. She had great beauty, innah and outah beauty. She became the wife of Abraham. The Old Testament calls her Motha of Nations. And let’s not forget how impo’tant the name Elizabeth is; it means consecrated by the Lawd. As you may well recall, my fathah’s mothah’s middle name was Elizabeth – Nancy Elizabeth Paschal. And most impo’tant, yoah own motha’s middle name is Elizabeth. And let’s let’s not fo’get that tall beauty of a woman with head full of golden hair, yoah fathah’s mothah, Sallie Elizabeth Gunby-Story,” Donn would shake her head in disbelief. “Did you know that Sallie Story was six feet tall? My deah, Sarah Elizabeth, much is expected of a woman who carries such a powahfull name.”

Donn, farming and raising a family kept Lawton and Nancy busy during the first years of marriage. In fact, farming was starting to look dismal to the young Story couple. An offer for Lawton to help Uncle Edwin Gunby run his general store was accepted. They moved out of the Radford Gunn Story home with three little ones. The fourth child was born while away, a son, Robert Randolph Story.

“Just because sistah moved away when you were bawn did not stop me. I named you aftah the Robert Randolph Ramsey family of Roanoke Island, Virginia. My mothah, Grace Amelia Ramsey‘s fathah, was “Tip” Ramsey, whose fathah was Robert Randolph Ramsey. Now take heed, the Ramsey family of Roanoke Island was related to Thomas Jefferson, writah of the Decla’ation of Independence. I too was given the middle name Randolph, and I’m proud to give you my middle name; a prominent name indeed. My deah Robert, no doubt you will be a leadah in yoah community with a name such as this!”

Donn wrote daily to Nancy, “Sistah, I’ll be so happy when you and Lawton return to your true home. I’m lonesome for you and the children. I must tend to their education.”

Luckily for Donn, running a general store did not satisfy Lawton Story. The couple returned to the Rad Story home to try farming again. Now there were four children and the fifth on the way.

Donn named the fifth child, Miriam Dieudonnee Story.

“I named you Miriam, for Miriam was an impo’tant person in the Old Testament; she was Moses’ sistah,” Donn explained. “In a desperate attempt to save Moses’ life, Miriam placed her baby brothah in an ark and floated him down rivah to be rescued by the pha’oh’s sista.  Now mind you my little Miriam to look after yoah brothas.”

This responsibility little Miriam took seriously. And Donn would try to explain Miriam’s middle name to her. “I know you call me ‘Aunt Donn,’ but my real name is Dieudonnee. It is French which means – given by the Lawd.” Donn tried repeatedly to teach little Miriam how to pronounce her French name properly. “And my deah, Miriam Dieudonnee, you are given by the Lawd, and don’t you eveh fo’get it. Even though you cannot pronounce it, I am proud to share my name with you.”

Miriam soon have three little brothers to look after. And she took that responsibility seriously, after all her name was Miriam. Yes, three more sons were born unto Lawton and Nancy Bentley-Story.

Donn named the sixth child, Caleb Edward Story.

“I chose to name you Caleb, because Caleb was a warriah who assisted Joshua in the Old Testament when Moses could go no furthah into the Promise Land. Caleb was my baby brothah’s name. Caleb was also yoah great-grandfathah, Caleb “Tip” Ramsey, who was a well thought of politician. Ead is a fine Old English word for Edward, which simply means, happy. I saw yoah little face just moments aftah you came into this wauld, and I could not help but smile. My deah, you make us all so very happy!”

Donn named the seventh child, Eugene Radford Story.

“Gene, every time yoah fathah reminisces  his youth, he speaks joyfully of his cousin, Judge Eugene Gunby. And I could not forsake the Gunby-Story families by using all Bentley names. It was time to honoh the honohable judge and yoah grandfathah, Radford Gunn Story. I knew Radford must be a pawt of yoah name the moment I saw yoah strong chin on yoah handsome face peeping at me through that blue blanket. Radford Story was the man who built the home you were bawn in. He was a tall handsome fawmer who was hawd wawking, and traveled all oveh the countryside riding a magnificent white stallion. My deah Gene, I strongly suspect you will do well, or die trying.”

Donn named the eighth child, Thomas Jonathan Story.

“I chose to name you Thomas, because Thomas was the Apostle of Christ who was not afred to question the status quo. And my deah, I named you Jonathan, because Jonathan was a devoted friend of King David in the Old Testament; the same loyalty I suspect that I saw in yoah blue eyes the furst time I looked upon yoah little face.” Donn smiled as she recalled her American history, “You know Gene’al Stonewall Jackson’s name was Thomas Jonathan. That name has a nice musical ring to it.”

Donn named the ninth child, Nancy Bentley Story, though she was always known as “the baby.”

“Now, Nancy, I want you to know that you have a very special name. I named you in honoh of yoah mothah. Yoah mothah was named in honoh of Nancy Elizabeth Pascal. Oh Fathah would be so proud to know he has a beautiful granddaughtah like you named after his mothah. And I named you Bentley to remembah who yoah mothah came from. Yes, I want you and yoah brothahs and sistahs to remembah yoah mothah’s people. Oh yes, and let’s not forget, Nancy is Hebrew fo’ Grace.”

Frequently Donn dramatically recalled the process she used in choosing the names of her nieces and nephews. She was a grand teacher and held a captive audience whenever she spoke.

And though all the “chil’ren” were “deah” to her, Donn held a special place in her heart for the one she had the most history with, Grace. Before Grace was born, Donn and her brother-in-law Lawton, went round and round on the first born’s name. Lawton Story’s life was filled with stories of Dr. Truman Briscoe and come hell or high waters, his first born, be it a girl or boy, was to be named Truman. Donn was just as determined to name her Grace, upholding the tradition of naming the first daughter, Grace, thus Grace Truman Story.

With tear filled eyes, she would say, “Now my deah Grace Truman, my ‘amazing Grace, oh how sweet’!” And Donn would finish with, “Baby Nancy was the final diamond placed in the crown of the Lawton and Nancy Bentley-Story family. May the Lawd continue to bless all of you, my little deahs!”

Nancy and Lawton had their family. And this determined father of nine children worked endlessly to raise a family as a farmer. Lawton’s mother, Sallie Gunby-Story, wrote often to encourage her son to come to the Atlanta area where she lived with Uncle Charlie. Sallie Story would write, “Son – if you want the best education for your children – you’ll come to Atlanta. There is opportunity here. Uncle Charlie says you can run his farm in Tucker. Oh for goodness sakes! Bring Donn with you!”

Leaving Lincolnton for the Atlanta area was a hard decision, because it meant that his Nancy would leave her beloved sister, Dieudonnee, in Lincolnton. And what would the children do without their “Aunt Donn?”

But the day came when Lawton moved his family from Lincolnton to Atlanta. The State of Georgia made that decision for him when they deemed the Rad Story farm a part of a new lake that would flood Elijah Clarke’s Hill, Clarke’s Hill Lake.

The first half of the Story children was about grown, while the smaller ones were age eleven to three.

So this was the plan. Lawton would go to the Tucker farm with the older boys, while the older girls would stay behind with their mother to help with the smaller children. Lawton, Beau and Robert went to Uncle Charlie’s farm on a buckboard drawn by a team of horses carrying supplies and timber.

Lawton and his two sons worked to add two bedrooms and a fireplace to the existing house on Uncle Charlie’s farm. When complete, Lawton would send for the rest of the family.

Aunt Donn was left behind in Lincolnton, because she could not bear to leave her familiar surroundings. As the Bentley matriarch, she still had timber and land to consider. And anyway, this was the Story family, not the Bentleys. The Bentley’s belonged to Lincolnton. It was a place Donn called home which was steeped in rich Georgia history. Her nieces and nephews would visit Aunt Donn often. If Robert ever went missing, Lawton and Nancy Story would look at each other and say, “He’s at Donn’s.”

And then Donn did the unthinkable. She took a husband, “Walta.” Her life would always be Lincolnton.

While in Tucker, the Story family enjoyed good times and bad times. Even during the Depression, the Story’s made time for fellowship with Gwinnett and Dekalb County families with dinners on the ground. In spite of the hard times, they set the table with a tablecloth and gave thanks to the Lord for all their many blessings.

In a photograph made of one such dinner, members of the McGee family are mainly to the left and the Storys are mainly to the right. The tallest man is the Story patriarch, Horace “Lawton” Story, Sr. Extreme right to left: Lester Graves, Grace Story-Graves, Robert Randolph Story, unknown man possibly Harvie Singleton, Dorsey “Doc” Graves, Bonnie Cofer-Story, Lawton “Beau” Story, Jr., Sarah Story-Graves, Miriam Story, McGee woman, Nancy Elizabeth Bentley-Story, Horace “Lawton” Story, Sr., McGee woman and three McGee men. Front row of children from left to right: Eugene “Gene” Radford Story, McGee, McGee, Baby Nancy Bentley Story, McGee, Thomas Jonathan Story, “Junior” Graves, Caleb Edward Story.

And all the children of Lawton and Nancy Bentley-Story met that special person, and the Story family flourished, having twenty-six children. That is all but Caleb Edward Story. When Caleb was sixteen years old, he suffered a head injury while playing football at school and developed spinal meningitis; slowly but surely his spine bent backwards. His brothers and sisters all rallied around Caleb refusing to believe Caleb could be taken away from them. They supported him in every way and urged him to never give up. He died at the age of thirty-five, and was the first of the Story children to join “Mother” in Heaven.

When Nancy Elizabeth Bentley-Story passed away from heart failure in 1938, her husband, Lawton, laid her to rest at Pleasant Hill Baptist.  Though she never told him, he knew it was what she wanted. Lawton remained Methodist, but relaxed his Methodist will so that he could one day rest beside his beloved lifelong sweetheart and wife – in a Baptist cemetery.

Nancy died about a year after learning that her son, Caleb, was diagnosed with spinal meningitis. Her heart could not bear it.

But before any spokes of the Story family wheel was broken, a photograph was made of them. Bottom first row left to right: Thomas Jonathan Story, Horace “Lawton” Story, Sr., first grandchild, John Lester Graves, “Junior” (son of Lester and Grace Story-Graves), Nancy Elizabeth Bentley-Story and Baby Nancy Bentley Story. Second row left to right: Eugene “Gene” Radford Story, Caleb Edward Story and Grace Truman Story-Graves. Third row left to right: Miriam Dieudonnee Story, Sarah Elizabeth Story-Graves and Bonnie Cofer-Story (Beau Story’s wife). Fourth row left to right: Robert Randolph Story, Dorsey “Doc” Graves (Sarah’s husband), Horace Lawton “Beau” Story, Jr. and Lester Graves (Grace’s husband).

In the Story family photograph, Sarah and Caleb are standing center surrounded in solidarity by their family. Sarah has her hand on the shoulder of her little brother, Caleb. Each and every one of the Storys in this photograph has followed their brother, Caleb, into Heaven. He led them to the Promise Land just as the Old Testament Caleb helped Joshua lead the Israelites into the Promise Land.

It was Sarah who was the last to go. Even though she was the third child, she remained here on God’s green earth until all her brothers and sisters had crossed over. Perhaps she stayed behind to offer a supportive hand to all of her brothers and sisters. Or perhaps she stayed because Aunt Donn had impressed upon her soul that her name was “Sarah Elizabeth, and with such a powahful name, much is expected, my deah.”  And when the old days were talked about, it was my Aunt Sarah who frequently said and sang, “It’ll Be a Glad Reunion Day.” Sarah passed away three days shy of her ninety-eighth birthday.

Yes, they have all left this world and are reunited up there in Heaven.

As the eighteenth grandchild of Lawton and Nancy Bentley-Story, I remember and love the ones I was privileged to know. I also know and love the ones of past generations that I did not meet, because of the stories passed down about them. I feel a strong connection to them all, especially when I hear the song, “Amazing Grace,” the Story family’s favorite song, a tradition passed down by the Bentley family.

And I know without a doubt they all love and support each other in spirit, as they did while on earth. That love and support so beautifully illustrated by my grandmother’s defensive hand on her little brother Caleb’s shoulder, when a “school boy” teased him. I saw it again in the Story family photograph with my Aunt Sarah’s hand on the shoulder of her little brother, Caleb. Just as I know they love and support me and my family today. I know that to be true, because that is who we are, the Storys.

 

Children and Grandchildren of:

 Horace Lawton Story, Sr. (born July 3, 1886 died February 15, 1963) and

Nancy Elizabeth Bentley-Story (born April 22, 1886 died April 12, 1938):

Grace Truman Story-Graves (married John Lester Graves)

Junior, Ann and Ted

Horace Lawton “Beau” Story, Jr. (married Bonnie Cofer)

Horace

Sarah Elizabeth Story-Graves (married Dorsey “Doc”Graves)

Elizabeth , Gene and Roy

Robert Randolph Story, Sr. (married Marie Burruss)

Wayne, Charles, Robert and Clyde

Miriam Dieudonne Story-Sexton (married Chester “Check” Sexton)

Frances, Rachel, Curtis and David

Caleb Edward Story

Eugene “Gene” Radford Story (married Mary Bramblett)

Carol and Richard

Thomas Jonathan Story, Sr. (married Helen Voyles)

Patricia, Diane, Barbara and Tommy

Nancy Bentley Story-Goss (married Carl Goss)

Linda, Steve, Earl, Eileen and Chris

 

Nancy Elizabeth Bentley-Story’s Family

 Dennis Brantley Bentley (born September 2, 1844 died September 29, 1912) and

Grace Amelia Ramsey-Bentley (born 1852 died 1905):

Effie Lou, Charles Ramsey, Dieudonnee “Don” Randolph, Caroline “Carrie” Grace Eugenia, Nancy Elizabeth, Caleb Hardin, Desaussiue “Dessie” Ford and Casey Lowe Bentley

 

Horace Lawton Story, Sr.’s Family

 Radford Gunn Story (born October 1858 although tombstone states born 1869 died December 1, 1904) and

 Sallie Elizabeth Gunby-Story (born June 13, 1863 died February 29, 1932):

Horace Lawton, Annie “Maude,” Theodosia “Theo,” Eddy Gaines, Marion Pierce “Reesie”, Salena, and Ruth Radford Story

Author’s Notes:

*There is a question about Carrie Bentley’s name. The internet says her name is Caroline Grace Bentley. Though in Aunt Don’s own handwriting, she states her sister is Caroline Eugenia Bentley. Perhaps her name was Caroline Grace Eugenia Bentley.

*Click on pictures to enlarge.