Category Archives: Genealogy

Legacy Guilt.

Today I went to the Western History Workshop on Dr. Alice Echols’ work in progress project on her grandfather’s involvement with a Building and Loan Bank scandal in Colorado Springs in the Great Depression.  At the beginning of her presentation she brought up the problematic nature of mining family history for history narratives.  Past lives, like present lives, are riddled with tragedy as much as they are stories of success and triumph.

In my own personal genealogy research I semi-recently learned that my great great great great grandpa was a slave owner in Tennessee.  Most of his sons moved to Texas as young adults and remained there until their deaths.  The sons fought for the Confederacy in the Civil War, while their slave owning father actually sided with the Union.

Thomas Crutcher Holt, one of the sons (and my ancestor) worked as an itinerant Methodist and Baptist preacher in the South.  His son Edgar Eugene Holt moved to southern Oklahoma.  And it was there in southern Oklahoma that Edgar’s son Andrew Holt, my great grandma’s oldest brother, ran whiskey during Prohibition in the 1920s and was shot down by a sheriff (and family oral history also says a U.S. Marshall) in a nighttime raid.

The Morning Tulsa daily world. (Tulsa, Okla.), 21 Jan. 1922. Chronicling America: Historic American Newspapers. Lib. of Congress.

The Morning Tulsa daily world. (Tulsa, Okla.), 21 Jan. 1922. Chronicling America: Historic American Newspapers. Lib. of Congress. http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn85042345/1922-01-21/ed-1/seq-5/

I don’t feel bad at all about having a Prohibition violating ancestor, though I do feel a little bad about having a slave owning gggg grandfather.  I’ve decided to call this legacy guilt.  It’s a non-monetary inheritance that you can’t really do anything about.  The longer I’ve known about it the easier it has been to reconcile that what an ancestor did is very much in the past, and what you do as an individual in the present is far more important than the actions of any one of the hundreds of ancestors that rotated around the sun before you.

Their actions had far reaching implications and greatly impacted the lives around them, but there is no remedy for that when you are nothing but an agent of the present.

If anything, learning more about the potentially negatives aspects of my family’s past illuminates a general history narrative that often feels generic and impersonal.  I’ve been pursuing information on the cultural context of my slaveowning ancestor in Tennessee and his sons’ move to Texas.  It’s been an exciting journey so far to try to understand the push and pull factors of their choices through the contexts of their lives.

Folks.

I am fascinated with the early 20th century west and midwest.  The dusty lonesome farmer, the wanderer, set against an unceasing landscape.  An individual who either bucks community or searches for it – or sometimes both.  A closed frontier and questions of where to go next.  The newly domesticated.  Or at that, the fear of the new.  Having everything in the world seemingly open to you, but the closeness of community to keep an individual from being able to stray from accepted conventions.  It is a crossroads, a meeting place.  The landscape of the immigrant and of the disadvantaged.  A natural landscape with humans struggling to get ahead to the unnatural.  Fascinating.

Part of my fascination with it is also my personal connection to it.  My Dad’s family were early Ohio pioneers.  Today that is barely the midwest, but in 1800 (when they made their way out there) it was the edge of the American world.  My Mom’s family went into Oklahoma after the land was opened up to white settlers.  Every generation on my Mom’s side in the 20th century migrated to California to live for a period of time for various and sundry – though they have all left California by now (Except me!  Though I’ve never lived in OK).  The road between Oklahoma and California is a well-worn one for my Mom’s folks.  None of my American ancestors come from rich families.  We’ve always been average Joes, more or less.

This is instigated by working at a museum focusing on Western culture, and also on some rewatching of Carnivale.  I love the texture of Carnivale – the dark, dusty, worn texture.  I want to curl up in it.