Magnolia Grove~ Revisited, In Search of Heinrich

We went back to Magnolia Grove today in search of dear old Heinrich.

I could not find his grave when we were first there. We searched the grave stones, one by one and I eventually conceded that he must be among the field stone markers that were there. The unmarked regular field stones were scattered about in the brambles and tree roots. Some order was applied to their placement, but to the casual eye, you would not even recognize them as grave stones.


I later realized that he was located about 150 ft further back into the woods, past the main part of the cemetery.. Not really visible from the tree line.

So we went back, ventured further into the woods, and Russ found him! I literally loped over the sticks and rocks and roots. That rush of adrenaline kicked in and my smile was spreading as I ran.




It is at the edge of a pretty good ravine..hard to imagine how the landscape would have looked back then, surely it was picturesque ...or at least better than when we found it. I touched his stone and told him that there were others that were related and excited to find him...




There is a large granite slab at the base of the marker. The headstone is standing up, very hard to read with the lichen and age showing on the face of the stone. I brought along some chalk and rubbed it gently to reveal the writing.

There he was, gently laid to rest on his beloved land.

I wanted to have a lengthy conversation with this man. I wanted to learn more about him and his life. So, just how much coffee did this second wife, Sallie, consume, anyway?? LOL! Why did you go all the way back to Pennsylvania to find a wife, were the North Carolina women too homely, or were there just not enough teeth remaining to suit your liking?
Why? How? When? Where is your Dad buried?? So many questions..

But, time distanced us, and it is not possible. The only connection I could hope for was to lay a hand upon his marker and let him know I was there.

When I do that, I feel I am 'home'.

I saw my Dad do the same thing when we visited George Henry up at Pisgah Church in Newland.
Dad misted over and rubbed his hand over the stone. He connected much the same way that I did.
I had to look away, I felt as if intruding on a very special, private moment.

Nearly two hundred years spanned between this man and myself, but I came to find him. It was a wonderful moment, one that I will remember, as I do all the other wonderful meaningful moments.
I really do not know why this yanks my chain like it does..smiling..but it does. Boy Howdy is does.

There is a nondescript small triangular stone marker right beside him, not sure if this is his first wife or his second. I have no records of where his second wife is laid to rest, but his first, Anna Joanna Rudisill, is surely there somewhere in that cemetery.



Those stones lie there, a silent testament to the soul laid to rest under them. The stone gathered out of love and placed there in love. Sometimes I feel those markers are the most majestic markers, the stones that bear no names.

Just the common stone remains, to remind us of the life laid to rest beneath it.

Rest in peace, Uncle Henry (Heinrich).




You are remembered.

Your 5th Great-niece, Martha.



This is a Lutheran church just up the road from Heinrich's final resting place. I snapped this picture as we watched the last light of the day, slowly ebb away. No Dellinger's here, but lots of distant kin, I am sure.

Magnolia Grove and the Springhouse Jail

Cowans Ford Dam, located at McGuire Nuclear Station, Huntersville, N.C. Hwy. 73. Click on picture for a larger view.

The Dellinger family moved from Pennsylvania, to North Carolina, sometime prior to the Revolutionary War. Henry “Heinrich” Dellinger was the Uncle of Henry Dellinger (the Henry that owned the grist mill and moved to the mountains of North Carolina). Johan "John" Philip Dellinger, Jr. was Heinrich's brother and also, our ancestor, (the father of Henry Dellinger that ran the grist mill). Johan "John" Philip Dellinger, Jr. fought in the battle of Kings Mountain, N.C. as well as the Battle of Ramseur's Mill. He was a Captain in the Revolutionary Army.










We struck out in search of the old home place of 'Heinrich', called Magnolia Grove.
It was in the vicinity of Lincolnton, N.C. in an area called Iron Station. Turns out that it is less than 10 miles from me! The house, that stands on Heinrich’s property today, was built by John Barnett Smith, and is registered on the Historical Registry. John Barnett Smith was the husband of Barbara Ann Dellinger. Barbara was the great grand daughter of Heinrich, and apparently inherited the property.










The line goes like this:

Johannes Philipp (Pioneer) Dellinger, Sr. b. 1706
Heinrich Dellinger, b. 1740
Michael Dellinger, b. 1761
Lewis Dellinger, b. 1796
Barbara Ann Dellinger, b. 1837









Barbara Dellinger Smith and John B. Smith's Headstones

The interesting thing about Magnolia Grove is that Heinrich kept a house “for the entertainment of the public“. He ran a tavern and an inn. He would drive cattle to Pennsylvania and cash them in for spirits and would sell these spirits in his tavern, along with other goods in his store.
In 1781, until 1784, they converted Heinrich’s springhouse into a jail, complete with proper fortifications. There has been some excavation of the site, where the springhouse once stood. There was a jail break, apparently, from the springhouse, so they fortified a room in his main house, to serve as a jail. They eventually held court proceedings in the house, as well, until the new courthouse was built in Lincolnton. You have to imagine that house as a 'happening place', don't you think?? Smile.

Heinrich’s first wife was Anna Joanna Rudisill, she passed away when Heinrich was in his 40’s. He remarried a lady that he knew from Pennsylvania, one Ms. Sallie Smothers. Apparently, this was one lady that loved her cup of coffee, so before she committed herself to being Heinrich’s wife, they had an standing agreement that she would be provided her coffee, even in the ‘Wild Lands’ of North Carolina..grin.
This proved quite costly for Heinrich, but he complied. Ain’t love grand?




There is also a tale that floats around about the troops frequenting the tavern. Before heading to fight the Battle of Ramseur’s Mill, in Lincolnton, legend has it, they stopped in at Heinrich’s tavern to have a ‘cup of courage’ before venturing on their way. Liquid Fortitude.

I can just see the frown that would have brought to my Grandma’s face. Grin.

The family cemetery is located on a slight rise, just behind the main house that was built by John Smith. I had found this cemetery once before and did not quite know how these Dellinger’s fit in, but I knew that they would, somehow.

Another piece of the puzzle slides into place. Big smile.

Name: Heinrich "Henry" DELLINGER
Sex: M
Birth: 27 OCT 1740 in Oberacker, Baden-Wurttemberg, Germany
Death: 15 FEB 1820 in Lincoln Co. N. C.
Burial: 1820 Dellinger & Smith Cemetery, Iron Station, Lincoln Co., N.C.
Occupation: Large land owner
Military Service: Whig-took no part in Rev. War




Magnolia Grove was the home of Henry Dellinger prior to the Revolutionary War and afterward until the town of Lincolnton was founded. Magnolia Grove is situated on the Tuckasege road six miles from Lincolnton.
***************************************************************

The following info was found on the internet:

From Germans West of the Catawba:
"MC, NC DB 1:521-4 - 4 Jun. 1764 - Henry purchases 200 A adj. Philip Rudisill's line from John Rudisilly, oldest son and heir at law of Gerick Rudisilly, dec'd, of York Co., PA. This was Johanna's brother John who remained in York Co., PA. The wording of this deed is a bit misleading. Weyrick Rudisill d. in LC, NC...
MC, NC DB 1:445-6 - 15 Jan. 1767 - Henry Dellinger and wife Hannah sell 300 A on Leepers Creek granted 4 Oct. 1765.
NC Crown Patent B15:484 - 19 Apr. 1763 - 200 A on both sides of Rudisills Creek adj. Waurough Rudisill."


Magnolia [North Carolina] was the home of Henry Dellinger prior to the Revolutionary War and afterwards until the town of Lincolnton was founded. This place is situated on the Tuckaseege road six miles from Lincolnton. Before the Revolutionary War, when the old Tryone courthouse
was near Cherryville, a road from Beatty's Ford to the courthouse crossed the Tuckaseege road at Henry's house. Henry's residence stood at the intersection of these two roads, just east of and between J. B. Smith's present brick residence and the spring.

The Tuckaseegee road has since been changed and now runs west of the house. That part of the Beatty's Ford road has been discontinued for many years, but the tracks of both old roads are clearly visible today.

Being a man of large means and living at a public place, Henry kept house for the entertainment of the public. At that time such houses were known as ordinaries, and were licensed by the court. In the court records of the April sessions of 1775, the following was entered: "It is ordered by
the court that Henry Dellinger have license to keep ordinary at his now dwelling house in Tyrone County, he complying with the act of Assembly in case made and provides who proposes for security John Ritzhaupt and Nicholas Friday." In 1779, Tyrone County was divided into Lincoln and Rutherford counties, the old courthouse falling in Lincoln County, but too far west for the convenience of the public.

The courts were then held for a few years at Nicholas Friday's on the South Fork. They were next held at Henry Dellinger's. At the January sessions of 1781, it was ordered that the jail of said county should be Henry Dellinger's spring house until the end of the April sessions of
1784. The place dug out of the spring house is visible today. It was a small building, the lower story rock, the upper, logs. In the lower story, the landlord kept his liquors; the upper was used for a jail. As some of the prisoners escaped from the spring house, during the April sessions of 1784, it was "ordered that the sheriff of said county make use of a room in Henry Dellinger's house to be strengthened for the purpose of a common jail till the public buildings in said county are completed."

The next term of the court was held at Henry Dellinger's. The court minutes read as follows: "State of North Carolina. At a county court of Pleas and Quarter Sessions begun and held in and for said County of Lincoln at Henry Dellinger's on the first Monday in July, 1784, before Robert Alexander, William Graham and John Moore, Esqrs." The Courts continued to be held at the Dellinger place until the town of Lincolnton was established. The courts were first held at the Courthouse in Lincolnton in October 1786.

Henry's second wife, Mrs. Smothers, was reared in the city and wearied of country life. So yielding to her inclinations, he was the first to purchase a lot in the new town of Lincolnton. He owned and occupied the lot on the northwest square now known as the Robinson block. Henry is
said to have erected the first house built in the new town. Henry made frequent trips back to Pennsylvania, taking with him a drove of cattle, and bringing in return liquors for his cellar and goods for his store. After the death of his first wife, Anna [Hanna] Rudisill, he wooed, Mrs. Smothers, a widow then living in the state of Pennsylvania. According to tradition she was a great lover of coffee. Her objection to marriage and accompanying Henry back home was the fear that she could not get her favorite drink in the wilds of North Carolina. This the ardent
lover quickly overcame by promising her all she wanted, a promise he faithfully kept. Henry's neighbors frequently discussed his expensive bargain, and she filled an untimely grave from the extensive use of coffee.

Henry Dellinger was Whig and took no part in the Revolutionary War; but his brother, John Dellinger, was a patriot and active soldier throughout the Revolution. John fought at the Battle of Ramseur's Mill.

Henry Dellinger died February 15, 1820, in Lincoln County, North Carolina. He was buried February 1820, in the Dellinger & Smith Cemetery, Iron Station, Lincoln Co., North Carolina.

Henry Dellinger's tombstone is about 100 to 150 feet behind the main section of the cemetery, as are a number of other fieldstones.

Henry's grave is marked with two markers, one of plain granite and the other is a marble slab. The granite marker reads:

"H.D. Dep. This life 15 Feb. 1820 in the 80 of his age."

The diary of Lutheran pastor David Henkel has the following entry for Thursday, February 17, 1820:

"A funeral sermon for Henry Dellinger, Sr.."

This funeral sermon was probably given at the home of Peter Mosteller,
Jr., who was Henry's son-in-law. Henry had resided with Peter Mosteller
from September 22, 1818 until Henry's death.


Father: Johannes Philipp DELLINGER b: 24 AUG 1706 in Oberacker, Baden-Wurttemberg, Germany
Mother: Anna Maria BRANDSTATTER b: ABT. 1705


Battle of Ramseur's Mill

When Tryon County was divided the Tryon Court-house fell in Lincoln county, but too near its western border for public convenience. the courts for part of the years 1783 and 1784 were held at the house of Capt. Nicholas Friday. His residence stood on the east side of the river, seven miles south of Lincolnton. The courts of July and October sessions, 1784, were held at the house of Henry Dellinger, and his spring house was designated as the "gaol." This spring house was a two-story affair, the lower stone, the upper logs; the upper story was used as the public jail. Some of the prisoners escaping, the sheriff was ordered "to make use of a room in Henry Dellinger's house to be strengthened for the purposes of a common gaol." The sheriffs, for protection against the escape of prisoners from these very odd jails, always entered on the court record their "protest against the sufficiency of said gaol." The site of Henry Dellinger's home is Magnolia, six miles southeast of Lincolnton, where the late John B.Smith lived.

While the location of the county seat remained an open question, the map of the county changed. In 1753, the western portion of the Granville domain was set up into the county of Rowan. Rowan in 1777, was divided by a line beginning on the Catawba River at the Tryon and Mecklenburg corner, thence up the meanders of the said river to the north end of an island, known as "the Three Cornered Island," etc. and the territory west and south of said line erected into a new county, by the name of Burke, and the county seat, Morganton, located fifty miles from the southeast part of the county on the Catawba. It being represented to the General Assembly that "certain of the inhabitants of Burke labor under great hardships in attending on courts and other public meetings from their remote situation from the court-house," in 1782, it enacted that all that part of Burke from Sherrill's Ford to the Fish Dam Ford of the South Fork, "and from thence a southwest course to Earl Granville's old line," be taken from Burke and added to Lincoln County. In 1784 a greater slice of Burke was added to Lincoln. The line separating the counties began at the Horse Ford on the Catawba and ended at the same point in the Granville line. This is now a noted point, known as the "Three County Corner," the county of Lincoln, Burke and Cleveland, and is the only established point in the old Granville line west of the Catawba River.

The Battle of Ramseur's Mill took place on June 20, 1780 near present-day Lincolnton, North Carolina, during the British campaign to gain control of the southern colonies in the American Revolutionary War. About 400 American militia defeated 1,300 Loyalist militiamen. The battle did not involve any regular army forces from either side, and was literally fought between neighbors. Despite being outnumbered, the Patriot militia defeated the Loyalists.

The battle was significant in that it lowered the morale of Loyalists in the south, weakening their support of the British.

Emma

Great Grand-daughter of Steve Arrowood,
Grand-daughter of Becky Arrowood Kendrick.

~Emma~

She is the third great grand-daughter of Welzia Arrowood~

The Christmas Candolier

Isn’t it strange how a certain smell or sight can invoke memories?

Fresh popped popcorn.




The smell of popcorn transports me back in time to the sticky floor and the velvet seats of the movie theatre. The Webb Theatre was downtown still, even in my early adulthood, having seen it’s heyday when my parents were young.










Magic carpet style, I am transported with one whiff of the buttery, unmistakable smell.

The things and objects from our childhood evoke that same sort of magic.

Grandma’s house had the smell of roses. It had a wonderful undercurrent smell, that was there, no matter what. She used a rose sachet and a rose smelling spray, that she loved.

Unmistakably, Grandma.

She had a ‘candelabra’ of sorts, called a ‘candolier’ that was made of molded plastic. It had seven or eight candles that held flickering bulbs that emanated a soft light of welcome in the front picture window at the Holidays. It’s bulbs were painted red and orange, sort of like a candle’s real flame.




That candle in the window was the sign of welcome that every kid looked for.
I can remember spying that glow from the driveway and running the walk of the front yard to get to the door first.










Christmas time transformed her house into a wonderful place. Holly strung from every door frame and lights were everywhere. It was special for a kid. Grandma’s love made it so.

I went to an indoor “yard sale” of sorts, recently. A church ran facility.
The tables were endless and the piles of junk were tremendous. The very sort of place my Dad would have loved to search for 'treasures'.

I started down each aisle, looking, and enjoying seeing things that reminded me of the past.

Old style wooden school desks, just like the ones that I sat in during my grade school years.



I was taken back to the wavy tiled floor of the old Central Elementary where I began my schooling.



The smell of chalk board erasers. The old doors to each classroom were huge and towering to a small kid. The transoms imposing over each one, open to allow the air flow into the class. The old building had a charm all it’s own. My grandmother had begun her schooling there as well, so it was a treasure of a schoolhouse.

Next stop down my own “memory lane”, I spied an old sewing chest filled to the brim with treasures.
I found a tiny pair of scissors that would do just perfect for me, when I needed to snip the threads of some of my needlework. I fingered through the threads and bobbins and my heart went back again, to grandma and her sewing notions that were always close by her.


The smell of the cotton thread was a memory in and of itself.

I ventured on and down an aisle of shelves that held old Christmas decorations. I had to smile.
There were hand made ornaments, no doubt made by tiny, thick fingers, but made with love.
There were painted reindeer and Santa's, there were ceramic ones and plastic ones.
Most were jumbled or tarnished, some were broken and not so pretty anymore, but once they were magical through a kid’s eyes.




Russ appeared at the head of another aisle, holding something aloft triumphantly, and smiling.

I headed toward him.

In his hand he held 'Christmas Magic'.
A wonderful treasure.

It was a candolier.
Not just any old candolier, but one very much like what my Grandmother had in her front window.


No bulbs. Old style plastic, maybe even Bak-e-lite.

There were the familiar ‘drips’ of ‘wax’ down each candle made of hardened plastic. The cord was old, the plug in was not shaped the same as those of today. It was complete with an old cardboard piece that fit snuggly up into the base, covering the wiring.

I slipped away in thought, quietly, and I could hear Grandma saying, 'now be extra careful when you plug that in, whatever you do', 'Do NOT “Elexocute” yourself'.

Grandma had a way of taking words and making them her own; her own whimsical version. I can still see her smile as she said it.

The only thing missing was the strand of plastic holly that she had woven in and out, between each candle.

No problem with that, easy enough.

Christmas is here. :-)


Christmas in Gastonia, NC. Main Street 1954~

Memories of Dad at Christmas Time~

Dad was such a fun, unique personality.

We went to Mexico in the summer of 2002 and stayed at a resort in Playa Del Carmen, a sleepy little town that lies just south of Cancun. We explored the “Avenue Cinco” in Playa and Dad was just elated to be there. He marveled at the ingenuity of the Mexican architecture, even down to the pedestal beds at the resort. He ventured out ahead of us, each morning before daylight, eager to see what he could see.

He was always so fun to be around because he welcomed each new happening in life as an exciting new door to open. I saw the place anew through his enthusiasm and joy, simply being there was joy to him.

I wish that enthusiasm for life for everyone, to greet the morning sun with an anticipating smile, with the wonderful prospect that the day holds, stretched out before us, like a dazzling gem. Each day is a new page to turn, a new chapter to begin. That next day begins the rest of our lives. God gives us this gift every morning. A new food to try, a new experience, like jumping off a ledge into a ceynote without a thought....Dad was really into life and never failed to try new things. Even eating cactus, pan grilled..grin.

When the time came, Dad was not ready to let life go.

I guess none of us are. He loved living. We all have a time allotted for us to be here on earth, and I suppose that God in his wisdom decided that Dad’s time had passed. We do not know how many days we are destined to live, this very day may be our last. We must remember this and live each moment as if it were the very last.

No regrets.

Dad whispered to me in his final moments. I hear it sometimes, when I am just about to fall asleep. I hear that whisper when I am sitting at my desk at work. When I am miles away in thought, working on something, that small whisper will somehow find me.

He said,“ I don't know how much longer I can do this”.

He was clinging to life, desperately hanging on with all his might. He did not want to let go. He did not want to leave us, despite the pain. That invisible thread that holds us here on this earth..once it slips from our grasp we slip over to the other side, and we are gone. Dad had a hold on that string, holding tight.

He was not quite ready to let go of his grasp. That haunts my heart and I guess it always will. Struggling as he was, he still did not want to leave us all. That was pure strength. Strength of Heart. Strength of Spirit. Strength of Faith.

Dad was always taking care of those that needed taking care of. He bathed my Mom's father near the end of his life, when dementia had it's ugly grip on the man. Dad did above and beyond what many son-in-law's would have done. He simply saw the need and stepped up to the plate. He extended that same selfless kindness to countless others. Breakfast to an elderly man that lived alone. A flowery apron brought to an older lady that had very little that was "pretty". Age did not matter to Dad, neither did the color of the person's skin, or how much they possessed in this life. If there was a need for a 'hand', there was Dad to extend it.

Steve was not an openly religious man, not one that attended church services regularly, but he was of God. God's love showed through him, without a doubt.

Sometimes rough around the edges, but the heart was made of gold.

Godspeed toward the place where all happy, blessed souls in Heaven gather at Christmastime.

May Angels Surround You In Heaven, Dad.

I miss you.