The Elusive Ezra Willis

Minnie Frances Palmer

I am a researcher at heart; give me a computer and a few free hours, and I can lose myself and all sense of time.  Over the last decade or so I have been fascinated and many times frustrated by researching my family tree.  In the first few years, I spent quite a bit of time in front of the computer, making connections, checking facts/sources, and sending off for public records.  I was able to establish a foundation of people within each of the major branches of my family from which to build on over the years.  There are times I hit a wall, and after many frustrating hours/days/weeks/months, I walk away for a time.  But, it is never far from my mind, and all I need is one hit, just one good bit of information and I’m back in, hook, line and sinker.  I sound like an addict... well, maybe I am just a bit addicted to genealogy. 

There is one person that I return to time and again, one who frustrates me above all others—Ezra Willis, my maternal grandmother’s father.  He was not a presence in her life, and on top of that, she didn’t like to speak much about the past.  When she did, she recounted stories that have left me baffled.  

My grandmother Rosa was essentially an only child; at least the only child born to Ezra and her mother, Minnie Francis Palmer.  There was another child, but unfortunately he didn’t live long, dying within the first year of life.  My cherubic great-grandmother had two subsequent husbands, but no further children. 

Rosa Willis

Once Rosa told my sister that she had had a brother and that they lived for a time in a boarding house in Chicago.  When it was time to move on, my grandmother’s mother (Minnie) didn’t have the money to pay what they owed, so she left her son behind in servitude.  According to my grandmother, she never saw him again.  Now the only son I can find, in all my years of research, is the son who died within a few months of birth.  See what I mean about baffling?  There is no one to confirm this story, not even my own mother who had never heard this before.  

My grandmother also told me she had a [half] brother named Eugene.  I even have a picture of them from when he visited my grandparents’ farm when my mother was still a girl.  Who was Eugene’s mother and did he have a family?  If so, where were they?  You can see how this might nag at someone like me.  I have been able to continue my research past Erza, finding his father and mother—Billy Willis and Almina Lavanway (I tell you this only to help in following along)—and each of their parents, and even their parents’ parents.  Finding a woman’s maiden name can sometimes be a challenge, as most often they are listed only by their married name.  But, they did sometimes give a son or daughter their family name as a middle name; this tradition has made my research possible. 

Eugene Willis and Rosa

So, why do I keep coming back to Erza?  Because I want to know what became of him—he was born in 1880; that really wasn’t that long ago.  Even if he only lived until he was sixty, it would have been 1940; you would think I would be able to find something about him.  And, I want to find my grandmother’s brother Eugene, whom she named a son after.  After his marriage ended to Minnie Francis, Erza seems to disappear.  The only grandfather my mother ever new was George Watson, Minnie’s third husband.  Even then she only knew him as “Grandpa Watson” (it took a bit searching to find his given name).  Thank G*d for the Federal Census, truly a genealogist’s best friend.

Recently, I have made what may be a breakthrough; although I hesitate to get excited—and definitely won’t add any information to my tree until I can do more work to connect some dots.  I have found an Ezra B. Willis who was born in Michigan (where my Ezra was born) around the same time as my Ezra.  This Ezra excites me (I know, I know) only because he had a son, you guessed it... Eugene!  

Ezra B. moved around a lot, which could explain why he’s been so elusive: from Michigan to Colorado where he married Edith (surname unknown) in 1909 and had a son named Clarence; then to Kansas where he married Rosemary Woodward in 1920 with whom he had Eugene (born in Missouri in 1922), Rosella, Joseph and Jesse; and then to Oklahoma where he married Catheline (surname unknown) and had two further children: a son, Billy (remember, Ezra's father’s name was Billy) and a daughter, Joaquita.  Eugene and Rosella are listed as living with them in Oklahoma in the 1940 Federal Census.  This was before birth control and men tended to have children well into their older years; Ezra is close to sixty at the time of the census and his wife is 23, just five years older than Eugene.  

So far there is more argument against this being my Ezra than for, like the fact that Rosa would have been 20 years older than him, but until I’ve exhausted all available resources, I at least have a possibility.

Dedicated to my grandmother: Rosa Mae (Willis) Otto, 1902-2001.

What is a Father?

According to Wikipedia a “father (or dad) is defined as a male parent or individual progenitor of human offspring…[t]he verb "to father" means to procreate or to sire a child from which also derives the gerund "fathering".”  Is providing DNA truly what makes one a father…a “dad”?  Or is fathering more about nurturing a child, providing for them, encouraging and guiding them? 

On Father’s Day every year, I think about this relationship.  For me, a “dad” is not the progenitor of human offspring; he is the person who loves and cares for a child.  This stems, of course, from my personal experience; from my relationship with the man I called dad and the relationship my daughter has with my husband, whom she calls dad.  Most people who know me understand that when I talk about my dad, I’m referring to my step-father, Bill Paden; the man who loved me as his own, took me with him on gigs, helped me get my first job, taught me to drive, and walked me down the aisle. 

He had a ready smile, a love of music, and a great sense of humor.  I remember many a night accompanying my mother when he played the piano and saxophone with, first, Joe Penny and the Penny Pinchers at the Elks Club or local watering hole—somehow I always managed to be admitted—and later, with the Wind Jammers.  He would get lost in the music, pounding on the keys with abandon, eyes closed, foot taping, head swaying to the time of the music; always with a huge grin on his face…always.  People loved him; he was gregarious, outgoing, and friendly—he never met a stranger.  He also had a joke for every occasion and loved a good practical joke. 

He was not my father, but he was my dad.  I miss him.

NO H8, Just Love

Yesterday I attended a photo shoot for the NO H8 Campaign in Atlanta with my daughter, who is a lesbian.  As a heterosexual, with all the rights that allows me, I feel compelled to support those who are denied these same rights.  So, Amanda and I headed to the W Hotel in midtown to wait, along with several hundred others, for our turn to have our photo taken with the NO H8 tattoo on our

faces and duct tape on our mouths.

At one point, we were sitting on a couch talking to another mother and daughter (neither of whom is gay) when a gay couple joined us.  One of them asked me why I was willing to wait for hours to have my picture made.  I answered “to show my support.”

What I should have said was, “for my daughter…for my brother…for my friends…for you and for every LGBT person, because I believe they deserve the same rights I do.”

That’s really why I was there.  Amanda didn’t ask me to join her at this event, I asked her to join me.

We waited for 4 hours to have our picture made, which lasted all of a couple minutes.  But, it was worth it.  Not only did this give us a chance to spend some time together, but we felt a part of something so much bigger than ourselves; being in that room with so many likeminded others, gay and straight, felt right. There was nowhere else I would have rather been.  And, to put icing on the cake, I had my NO H8 tattoo applied by our Rabbi.  Sometimes separate pieces of our lives collide in the most wonderful ways.

A Veteran's Day Tribute

Thursday being Veteran's Day, I sat down to write about two veterans: my uncle, Guy Otto, and my father-in-law, Arnold Cotton, when I realized that I didn’t really know anything about my uncle’s time in the service other than that he was a fighter pilot in the Air Force during WWII. So I did what any sensible person would do, I googled him, and there he was on a website for the 82nd Fighter Group, 97th Fighter Squadron. I thought I’d share a some of his story and wait to write about Arnold another day.

First Lt. Guy Otto joined the Air Force in August 1944 when he was 21 years old.  He flew 50 missions over Austria, Germany, Yugoslavia, Czech, and Italy between October 1944 and April 1945. That’s a lot of flight time; just over 244 hours. He took his first flight on his 22nd birthday on October 8, 1944. After an hour-and-a-half in the air he lost an engine in the P-38, but managed to land the plane without incident. Just eight days later he was escorting B-24’s over Austria when he had his first experience with FLAK (anti air-craft gunfire); he later wrote “scary” beside this entry in his flight log, and a couple weeks later he wrote that he “finally got to fire the guns and cannon.”

Some of his missions were to drop chaff (small fibers that reflect radar signals) or escort bombers. In November 1944 he flew his first dive bombing mission where he successfully bombed highways to disrupt troop movement in Yugoslavia. The next day found him on his first Droop Snoot mission to bomb a depot in Oseppo, Italy, and then back to Yugoslavia the following day on another dive bombing mission, which he wrote about in his log as “very harrowing, having to fly down river valleys on the approach to the bridge actually below some of the hilltops where the enemy could fire down on us. This is the worst for the tail end fighter whose job it [is] to take gun camera film of the damage to the target.”


P-38

In March 1945 he was assigned his first squadron lead in a fighter sweep over Zagreb, Yugoslavia. He wrote home that this will “give you gray hairs quickly.” The following day, he was escorting an unarmed photo reconnaissance aircraft in Munich when he was attacked near the target area by a ME-262, a German jet-powered fighter aircraft (the world’s first) considered to have been the most advanced German aviation design during World War II. He wrote that the ME-262 pilot “almost got close enough to be part of the formation, but left when we dropped our spare tanks and turned into him.”

His next bombing mission wasn’t until April 1945 when he spent several days bombing railroad bridges in Germany. On April 8th after bombing a bridge he made a “fighter sweep over some marshalling railroad yards [and] was credited with 2 1/3 locomotives.” He was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross for this mission. Several days later he was again bombing railroad bridges, this time in Austria. When he returned he found that several holes had been blown into the bottom of his plane by the rocks that are thrown up from the bombs, evidence of the dangers involved with dive bombing. He also received the Air Medal and 4 Bronze Oak Leaf Clusters—the bronze oak leaf cluster represents second and subsequent awards of the Air Medal (2nd awarded on March 13, 1944; 3rd on April 16, 1994; and 4th on June 4, 1945. I couldn’t find records for the award of the Air Medal and 1st Oak Leaf Cluster).

The Distinguished Flying Cross

Awarded to aviators and aircrew for heroism and/or extraordinary achievement during aerial flight, the Distinguished Flying Cross is the only medal conferred by all five military services, in all wars and campaigns from World War I to the present.

On April 22nd, during an armed recon mission in Italy, Guy’s wingman, Lt. Hollingsworth was shot down after they encountered heavy machinegun fire. They were flying at low altitude over what appeared to be an abandoned government building. Lt. Hollingsworth was captured as a POW and was liberated on Victory in Europe Day.

The Air Medal

Awarded to any person who, while serving in any capacity in or with the armed forces of the United States, shall have distinguished himself by meritorious achievement while participating in aerial flight. Awards may be made to recognize single acts of merit or heroism or for meritorious service. Award of the Air Medal is primarily intended to recognize those personnel who are on current crew member or non-crew member flying status which requires them to participate in aerial flight on a regular and frequent basis in the performance of their primary duties. However, it may also be awarded to certain other individuals whose combat duties require regular and frequent flying in other than a passenger status or individuals who perform a particularly noteworthy act while performing the function of a crew member but who are not on flying status. These individuals must make a discernible contribution to the operational land combat mission or to the mission of the aircraft in flight.

Guy flew his last mission on April 26, 1945 and was awaiting transportation to the United States when the war ended.

Honoring Our Heros

This past Friday, David (aka Mr. Man) accompanied his 92-year-old father, Arnold Cotton, on a free trip to Washington, D.C. as part of West Georgia Honor Flight, which flies veterans to visit their national memorials (priority is given to WWII veterans). Arnold was a Sergent in the Marines during WWII, stationed in the Pacific.

Departing Columbus, GA on a 6:00am chartered flight, they arrived in D.C. to a welcoming reception. From there they boarded buses to take them to the memorials, each bus equipped with its own medical team. Several times during the day, tourists, both young and old (and not associated with Honor Flight), approached Arnold to thank him and shake his hand.

At the Iwo Jima Memorial, Arnold and two other veterans were honored to be chosen to lay a wreath, and enjoyed chatting with fellow Marine Sgt. Miles Johnson, with whom Arnold shared a photo of himself as a young Marine, some 60-65 years ago. (Arnold was also interviewed on-site by the Columbus Ledger as well as his local Macon newspaper after his return home.)

Even though Arnold is a world traveler, he expressed that this was the "trip of a lifetime." I know David feels the same way, grateful to have the opportunity to share this experience with his dad.

Honor Flight arranged for family and friends to send letters of gratitude ahead of the trip to be shared with the veterans on their return flight. As I sat at the breakfast table with Arnold on Saturday morning while these were read to him, I can tell you firsthand how much they were appreciated... he was beaming, and hasn't stopped. And, even though their flight back to Columbus didn't arrive until after 10:00pm, there were approximately 1,000 people waiting to greet the returning heroes with signs and cheers. No opportunity to share love and appreciation was overlooked.

If you know a WWII veteran who would like to make this trip (or if you would like to make a donation to this wonderful organization), go to Honor Flight Network to find the schedule of trips from your area. All veterans must be accompanied by a companion who has to pay for their own flight, but to borrow from a popular advertisement, sharing time with your father as he is honored for his service in WWII...priceless!

Amanda Turns 22

It is hard to accept that it was 22 to years ago today that I gave birth to Manda—my beautiful, intelligent and, at times, frustrating daughter. I was not much older than she is now when I had her, yet I cannot for the life of me image her being a mother in three years time.

I had intended to call her at 3:30pm, the approximate time of her birth, to sing her “Happy Birthday,” a family tradition, but she beat me to it and left me a voicemail at 8:30am on her way to school to wish me a happy birthday (the way she firgures it, it’s my birthday too since it is the day I gave birth to her). So, I called her back and sang her a very, very off-key rendition of Happy Birthday.

While she was growing up, we always celebrated each of our birthday “week” in which you could have your choice of what to watch, what to eat, and other “wishes” (mine was always that she and her dad wouldn’t argue). Now that she no longer lives at home, we give her the choice of restaurant for her birthday celebration. The last few years its been Babette’s. This year she wanted to go to Chop’s as she has heard us rave about the fried lobster tails (they really are delicious). We had a great time! Rena couldn’t stop exclaiming that it was the best meal she has ever eaten, and Manda, she didn’t stop smiling all evening.

Marley’s First Road Trip

Marley tagged along on our trip to Florida last weekend. We left on Friday morning and made terrific time. Even so, I’m sure it was a long, boring ride for Marley. He was a trooper though, riding most of the time in either my or David’s lap, depending on who was in the passenger seat. He was the hit of the weekend. Mom gave him a small piece of cheese on the first evening and made a friend, he spent the rest of the night in her lap.

On Saturday (Valentine’s Day), my sister Brenda and her husband Cal, and my brother Troy and his partner Jeff, joined us to go antiquing in Dade City. About half an hour north of Tampa, this is a quaint little town with several antique shops along the main street. The weather was beautiful, in the mid-70’s and perfect for wandering around. Mom found a couple of pieces of McCoy and we had a good cuban sandwich for lunch (still nothing like the cubans you get at Havana’s in Atlanta). In one shop we noticed a couple items you see pretty regularly at Scott’s Antique Market for half the price they were selling them for here.

That night we had reservations for nine at Bern’s Steak House to celebrate mom’s 75th Birthday. Bern’s is a Tampa institution and if you’ve never been there, it’s definitely worth a visit if you’re ever in Tampa. It looks like an old Bordello inside, with red walls and lots of portraits in gold frames. A little garish? Maybe, but it’s also part of the charm. Bern’s grows all their own “organic” vegetables on Bern’s Farm, raise their own cattle, and has a huge wine cellar containing one of the largest collections in the world, over half a million bottles—be sure to take the tour after dinner (you can also tour the kitchen). The steaks are awesome, dry-aged and ordered by size. Each meal is accompanied by french onion soup, a house salad, baked potato and veggies. I started my meal with the escargot, which was good—the snails were so tender—but, I wasn’t thrilled with the green sauce. My brother Bruce started with the scallops, which were wonderful, cooked just right so that they practically melted in your mouth.

On Sunday all nine of us went to the Lucky Dill in downtown St. Petersburg for lunch and then wandered along the pier and visited the tiny aquarium. Then Brenda, my sister-in-law Dawn, and I took my mom shopping for her trip to Ireland. She protested, but I think she enjoyed being with the girls and having the attention focused on her. And, she allowed us to buy her a couple of things.

Monday morning we went to breakfast and then headed to Plant City, my former hometown, and wandered around in the shops there. We decided to take Marley with us and carried him while we were in the shops. When we slipped into a pet shop that sells rescued animals to see some Chihuahua puppies, Marley was very disinterested and refused to go near them. They were adorable! We then headed to the local vegetable stand to buy tomatoes (there is nothing like Florida tomatoes) and strawberries. That afternoon, we noticed lots of Robins in a vacant lot down the street and in mom's yard eating berries from the tops of the palm trees. Mom filled up the birdbath and the birds came from everywhere for a drink and quick bath.