Secretarial Musings


I often wonder what kind of employee or boss Emmett was?

Was he considerate and competent? Quiet and hardworking?

A lunch-stealing backstabbing jerk, perhaps?

An excellent source of information on Emmett-as-colleague would be the office records — a desk calendar, case files, or even an office journal. I don’t doubt that Emmett kept records such as these himself. Unfortunately, Emmett’s office records do not exist anymore.

But what if one of his secretaries kept those records?

And what if they exist?

Tracking down office secretaries were with not much to go on was a real challenge — but guess what? I’ve identified five secretaries who either worked with Emmett directly, or as part of Emmett’s law practice!

Here’s the list of secretaries who worked with Emmett while he was a lawyer, district attorney, state’s attorney, and U.S. Congressman:

Bertha A (Bert) Murphy — 1905-08 — Maxwell & Wilson, Clerk for Asst. U.S. Attorney

Minnie Kehoe — 1906-1908 — Kehoe & Smithwick

Nellie Mills — 1914-1915 — Stenographer at the San Carlos Hotel (Emmett lived there on and off between 1914-1915 when Congress was out of session, et cetera)

Jefferson Davis Stephens — 1913-1917 — U.S. Congress

Hilda Dahlstrom Beall — 1910-1914 — Kehoe & Wilson; U.S. Congress (temporary)

Alas, this is not yet a complete list: I haven’t yet identified the secretary for Judge Daniel J. Jones (Emmett was Jones’ clerk in 1902), the secretary for Cephas’ office (Emmett was a junior partner at Wilson & Wilson between 1904 and 1905), or the secretary for Van Sant and Wilson (1905-1906).

It is possible that Emmett might have been the secretary for Jones’ or Cephas’ law offices while he was just starting out, but I don’t think so.

Nicholas Van Sant. Source:

I know Emmett did clerical work for Judge Jones, but it wasn’t consistent, and Emmett didn’t know shorthand.  He had little experience as a law clerk, and Judge Jones has a busy and thriving practice in Washington County, Florida. In fact, it was after a six-month stint at Jones’ office that Emmett was sent to Pensacola to take stenography courses at Meux’s Business College.

And while Cephas loved and supported his brother, he was not fool enough to trust his established law firm records to a younger sibling with an inconsistent work and academic record, who was just starting out.

I’ll introduce the secretaries over the next several posts.

Meanwhile, I’ll continue to dig around for information on who may have been the secretaries for Judge Jones and Cephas Wilson between 1900 and 1905. I have a few leads on the Van Sant & Wilson secretary that I want to explore. (Spoiler Alert: One of the secretaries DID keep a journal! And yeah — I have a copy of it!)


John Smithwick: A Kind-of Renaissance Guy


John Harris Smithwick. Source:

As promised, I’m following up on the earlier post about the folks at the Smithwick luncheon.

I’ll start with information about the host, John H. Smithwick: Farmer, attorney, U.S. congressman, accused check kiter, and survivor of the Knickerbocker theater disaster.

When the 1907 article was published, Smithwick was Walter Kehoe’s law partner. We know from Smithwick’s official biography he was born in Georgia in 1872; was graduated from Reinhardt Normal College in 1895, then attended law school at Cumberland University. He was graduated in 1897; admitted to the Georgia bar in 1898, then moved to Pensacola the same year as Emmett, in 1906.

Kehoe & Smithwick, located at 306 Brent Building, Pensacola. Source: 1907 Pensacola City Directory, from

Smithwick and Kehoe remained partners through 1907; the next year, however, Smithwick and Kehoe separated amicably:

Smithwick is partners with T.F. West. Source: 1908 Pensacola City Director,


Kehoe in single practice. Source: 1908 Pensacola City Directory,

By 1910, Smithwick has changed vocation:

Source: 1910 Pensacola City Directory,

Although Smithwick appears to have stepped away from his legal profession, he maintained his important connections with The Pensacola Journal’s editor, Frank Mayes. Mayes was considered a political kingmaker in West Florida politics. On April 27, 1913, The Pensacola Journal’s editor, Frank Mayes, wrote a feature about traveling through Santa Rosa County with Smithwick, and visiting his farm:

Source: The Pensacola Journal, April 27, 1913,

Mayes ran another feature on Smithwick’s farm, in the  May 17, 1914 issue of The Pensacola Journal. Although Smithwick expanded into farming, he was listed in the Pensacola City Directory with a business in naval stores; his residence as 206 W. Lloyd (a house still standing).

When Emmett gave notice that he was retiring from congress in April 1915, his two friends, Smithwick and Walter Kehoe (along with two other) ran for the Third District Congressional Seat in the June primary.

Sample 1916 primary ballot, as it appeared in The Pensacola Journal. Source:

Kehoe won the primary, then the general election. He served a rather undistinguished one term, then lost his bid for reelection in the 1918 primary runoff against Smithwick. There were no hard feelings though:


One thing of note — Walter voted against suffrage at the same time his talented sisters, Fannie and Minnie Kehoe, were two of the prominent women leading the suffrage movement in Florida. (I can imagine how uncomfortable it was when Walter came home from Washington, to face his sisters at Sunday dinners and social events.)

Smithwick’s tenure in office was also undistinguished — until he left office.

Source: Wicked Capitol Hill: An Unruly History of Behaving Badly by Robert S. Pohl. Source:


Source: Richmond Times, May 15, 1947.

Smithwick claimed he was innocent until the day he died.


The most interesting story I found about Smithwick was that he was a survivor of the Knickerbocker Theatre disaster in Washington, D.C., January 28, 1922.

In an interview he gave to Associated Press reporters, Smithwick recalled in great detail the how the ceiling of the theatre caved in under the heavy snow that had accumulated on the roof, and that he’d climbed out of the rubble, and walked home, without his hat or coat. He had several cuts and bruises, and likely a concussion. Smithwick said he didn’t realize how badly he was injured, until he arrived at home and family members called in a doctor immediately upon observing his condition.

Interesting fellow, John Smithwick.


There are a few excellent articles on Knickerbocker Theatre disaster:

  • Kevin Ambrose’s excellent article 95 years after the disaster, including stories of those who helped rescue theatre patrons, and those who tragically lost their lives.
  • A historical essay about the Knickerbocker disaster on the blog, The Dead Bell.
  • The Knickerbocker tragedy, via the excellent Ghosts of DC blog, and
  • John Smithwick’s interview, with great details, published by the Associated Press (below), via the New York Times.

Source: New York Times, January 1922.

Election Judgment


I’m a little behind filing my report on working as an Election Judge at my precinct’s polling station. Apologies for that; one (of two) outcomes of the day that I didn’t expect was to develop a major cold, which I’m sure was exacerbated by interacting with literally hundreds of neighbors who live in my precinct.

Rollingwood Elementary School, my voting precinct. Source:

Rollingwood Elementary School, my voting precinct. Source:

I wish I had taken photos of the polling station setup, the crowd, and the election judges in action to share, but the Board of Elections expressly forbade election judges from using cell phones or other technology at any time they were on duty — including lunch breaks. The chief judges were allowed cell phones; they had to communicate with the Board of Elections offices from time to time and to deal with emergency situations, such as when one of the three electronic poll books stopped working right at 6:57 a.m. — three minutes before the polls opened. I was one of the three judges running the poll books — and there was a long line out the door. Thankfully, we were able to get the third poll book up and running within the hour.

The polls opened promptly at 7 a.m. — I remember looking up at the clock. The next time I looked up at the clock (when the line had finally dispersed), it was 9:15 a.m. No kidding. I checked the number of Voter Access Cards I issued at that point — 402.

The chief judges had a giant bag of these lozenges going around the room. Thank goodness.

The chief judges had a giant bag of these lozenges going around the room. Thank goodness.

One of the chief judges came around offering throat lozenges. I took several. My spiel consisted of the following 402 times:

  1. Good morning. May I have your first and last name?
  2. Would you confirm your address?
  3. Would you confirm your day and month of birth?

We weren’t allowed to ask for the year, although most would automatically offered it. Maryland does not check voter identification, unless it is specifically noted on the voter’s registration record.

Then, I’d print out the electronic Voter Access Card, and send the voter on his/her way to the ballot table.

Several of my neighbors and friends showed up in my line. Most of them said hello; we visited for a few minutes, but we couldn’t get too chummy: At least twice while I was there poll watchers were hanging out behind me, watching as I checked voters in, and then, an observer from the Board of Elections visited to make sure everything was running smoothly.

After three hours at the poll books, I rotated to the ballot table, where I assembled the paper ballots and folders for the voters. Yeah, Maryland used paper ballots this time, which were presented to voters in legal-sized folders. The spiel went as follows:

  1. Maryland is using a paper ballot this election.
  2. It is two pages, with selections for you to review on both sides.
  3. Fill in the oval completely, no stray marks, or the scanner will not be able to read your choices, and will reject the ballot.
  4. When you’ve made your choices, return the ballot to the folder, and take the folder to the scanner.

I assembled and distributed about 200 ballots for the hour and a half I was at the station.

My last station was the scanner. There were two scanners set up near the exit of the polling station. My job was to stand next to the scanner and instruct the voter how to insert their ballot into the device, and to instruct the voter that if the ballot was rejected, then he or she would have to cast their ballot again (there’s a whole ballot spoiling process, which includes special forms and handling).

The only drama at our precinct was when an Election Judge at the scanner got cursed out by a voter because his ballot was rejected, and he had to redo it.

Personal observations:

This is a program that is entirely citizen-run, citizen-led, and I never understood or fully appreciated that before. One gentleman who accompanied a poll watcher was from the United Kingdom. He asked the chief judges how our political parties appointed the election judges at precincts — and the chief judge said, ‘We don’t. Our election judges are volunteers.’ After the UK visitor left, the chief judge turned to me and said, “it makes your really appreciate what we have here in the U.S.”

I read that about 47 percent of registered voters didn’t vote at all this year. That’s about 90 million voters. I understand that this was a contentious election; to be honest, neither major candidate was my first choice, but I would never just throw away a chance to speak up. Voting is precious. You think Minnie Kehoe would have thrown away a chance to vote? You think Modeste Hargis or Minnie Neal would have thrown it away, too? Hell no.

About three hours after the polls opened, my oldest daughter walked down to the polling station by herself, to look around. She’s 14, and pushing back against me and her dad (as teenagers will), and definitely keeping her distance from us, as she is of the age where it is ‘not cool’ to be seen with your parents. So, when I looked up from the poll books to see her standing in the doorway, a little hesitant, it warmed my heart.

i-voted-stickerI motioned her over to me, and introduced her to the other election judges. We weren’t busy, so I walked her through the voting process, step-by-step. She watched me check a few voters in, and help one or two voters with the scanning device. One of the chief judges gave her an “I Voted” sticker, with a wink and an admonition to be sure to register as soon as she was old enough, because it was important.

Before she left, she thanked me for showing her around because it was interesting — and, under her breath, she told me she was proud of me for working the polls.

Then she ran home.


Modeste Hargis, Whistling Pharmacist


I’m pleased to report that not only have I located Emmett’s doctors (both in Pensacola and Washington, D.C.), but I’ve also located his pharmacist. Pretty damn good History Detective work, huh?

I’ll have more on the doctors in another post, but I thought I’d introduce you to the pharmacist first, because she’s REMARKABLE.


Meet Modeste Hargis. The first (and youngest) woman pharmacist in Pensacola.

Modeste Hargis, about 1900. Source: womenofhistoricpcola

Modeste Hargis, about 1900. Source: womenofhistoricpcola

Modeste was born August 1875 in Pensacola, the daughter of Dr. Robert Bell Smith Hargis. She had four sisters and two older brothers, Robert and John, who also were physicians.

Modeste decided early that she wanted a medical career, too.  According to a feature about Modeste in a 1909 issue of The Pensacola Journal, she accompanied her father every day on house calls and appointments, and he taught her everything he knew. She couldn’t have had a better teacher, either — Dr. Hargis was not only a yellow fever expert, he, along with Dr. J.C. Whiting, established the Pensacola Hospital in 1868. He was well respected, well known, and considered one of the top physicians in West Florida. It is quite likely that Emmett’s father, Dr. Francis C. Wilson, at least knew of Dr. Hargis, if he didn’t actually practice with him on occasion.

Modeste was interested in pharmacy, and Dr. Hargis encouraged and supported his daughter’s plans, even though it was still highly unusual for a young woman to enter a profession dominated by men.

In the 1909 article, Modeste said:

“I simply loved anything connected with medicine and after my father’s health failed, I commenced the study of pharmacy though I did not know then it would ever be the means of my support.”

Modeste’s turning point came in 1893, at 18, when she passed the state pharmacy examination and was the youngest (and only) female pharmacist in Florida.

Source: American Druggist & Pharmaceutical Record, Vol. 26, September 14, 1893.

Source: American Druggist & Pharmaceutical Record, Vol. 26, September 14, 1893.

And less than three months later, Modeste’s father died. It is unclear what was the cause of Dr. Hargis’ death, but he died at home, at 109 E. Romana Street. Modeste’s quote gives us a clue that he was likely ill for a long time, and so his death was not unexpected.

It is not clear when Modeste opened her first pharmacy. However, records from the Pensacola City Directory for 1898 (the earliest one available for now) indicate that she was on her own:

Pensacola City Directory for 1898. Source:

Pensacola City Directory for 1898. J. Whiting Hargis was one of Modeste’s older brothers. Source:

Just for kicks, I looked at Google Earth to see if the original house or buildings are still at 107-109 E. Romana. Alas, no — only a few modern box-shaped offices and an empty lot.

The Hargis Pharmacy moved around a few times: In 1911, it was located at 8 E. Government Street — the location of Emmett’s office — in the American National Bank Building. I can imagine Emmett stepping out of the office, taking the elevator down to the first floor, to pick up a bottle of Bromo-Seltzer, and his brand of pomade (which I have not been able to figure out yet, but give me time). He could also pick up a bottle of beer or wine there too! Did you know the Hargis Pharmacy also made and bottled beer and wine? It’s true. Pharmacies could do that back then.


A variety of bottles (contents unknown) bearing the Hargis Pharmacy embossment. Source:

By 1916, The Hargis Pharmacy had moved down the street from 8 E. Government, to 203-205 S. Palafox. Still, only a few blocks’ stroll for Emmett, should he need to pick up toiletries, or whatnot.

Pensacola City Directory for 1916. Modeste's pharmacy delivered, too! Source:

Pensacola City Directory for 1916. Modeste’s pharmacy delivered, too! 203 S. Palafox, by the way, is still standing. Source:

Not surprisingly, Modeste was a friend of Minnie Kehoe’s, and, a supporter of women’s suffrage. Both were successful women business owners, too. I can well imagine those two getting together and having quite interesting conversations.

Modeste’s house at 611 N. Barcelona is still standing, too:

611 North Barcelona, Pensacola, Florida. Source:

611 North Barcelona, Pensacola, Florida. Source:

Modeste spent most of her life as a pharmacist. It is unclear when she sold or retired from business. In 1934, at age 54, she was likely retired at that point, because she is simply listed in the Pensacola City Directory at home.

But she wasn’t idle.

Zora Neale Hurston. Source: Library of Congress

Zora Neale Hurston. Could Modeste have known her? it’s possible! Source: Library of Congress

Modeste signed on with the Federal Writers Project of the Work Projects Administration (WPA) for the state of Florida. She co-wrote a series of articles that appeared in a variety of publications, including the Florida Historical Quarterly. Interesting — she was probably a colleague of Zora Neale Hurston!

Modeste’s most prolific year was 1939, according to She had NINE articles on a variety of topics, including Don Francesco Moreno, and an intensive study of Greek culture in Pensacola.

By 1942, Modeste was out of retirement and the director of the WPA Writer's Department in Pensacola. From the 1942 Pensacola City Directory. Source:

By 1942, Modeste was out of retirement and the director of the WPA Writer’s Department in Pensacola. From the 1942 Pensacola City Directory. Source:

Modeste lived with her sister Palmire in the 1940s. Palmire died in 1946; Modeste died in 1948.

That’s a pretty decent sketch of Modeste for now; but there’s still a lot I don’t know about her. I wanted to search in the Library of Congress’ database this afternoon, but it is offline for annual maintenance until August 1.

One reason I want to dig around and discover more about Modeste was this interesting comment by the interviewer in the 1909 article: She was described as a violinist, and a ‘genius in the art of whistling.’

She must have been good at it too, because in 1927, Modeste had her own radio program about whistling!

Source: The Greensboro (N.C.) Record; February 21, 1927.

I wonder what was included in her show! Did she do all the whistling? Source: The Greensboro (N.C.) Record; February 21, 1927.

Emmett definitely had some interesting friends in his life, and which says a lot about Emmett. Getting to know his friends and what they were like helps fill in the blanks about his personal life somewhat — at least until I get my hands on his scrapbooks.


Thanks, Minnie Kehoe!


It’s primary day in Maryland!

Fresh from the polls!

Fresh from exercising my rights of suffrage!

When I went to vote this morning, I had Minnie Kehoe on my mind. When I exited the polls, I said out loud, “Thanks, Minnie!”

Minnie was a trailblazer for professional women. She knew she had to keep her cool even in the face of cads, whereas I would have just told them where to go.

Minnie was a trailblazer for professional women. She knew she had to keep her cool even in the face of cads, whereas I would have just told them where to go.

The polling clerk (a man) looked at me and smiled.

I’m sure he didn’t know what the hell I was talking about. Maybe his name is Minnie. Haha!

It went very smoothly — no long lines, everyone was pleasant and courteous. The only odd thing about the voting was that we had paper ballots. This is a first in all the years I’ve been voting here in Maryland. I asked the polling clerk about it, and he said, “some people wanted it that way.”  No chance of hanging chads, though. It was all fill-in-the-circle.

There was an electronic scanner at the exit door, in which I had to insert the legal-paper-sized ballot. It sucked the document with my selections into its large, black plastic maw, and then, a patriotic screen popped up, saying, “Thank you for voting!”

As I exited, the polling clerk I called “Minnie” told me not to forget my sticker.

On the way out, I filled out a little survey praising my suffrage experience, and then, decided to volunteer as an election judge at my polling place come November. I’ve never done it before, and my name was the first on the list. I figured the experience would be interesting.

The schools are closed on primary days in my county because many of the public schools serve as polling places. I tried to entice my kids to come along for the civics lesson. No luck. I even said, “there will be stickers,” hoping to at least get my youngest to come along, but no luck.


More St. Michael’s Stories


Right now, I’m in Chipley, Florida, staying with my excellent and gracious friend Pam and her family, in a historic old home where Emmett and his family members had certainly visited from time to time. There’s a photo of Emmett’s father, Dr. Wilson, posed in front of this house in 1911 displayed prominently in the hall.

Dr Wilson at Butler house

I’m here to catch up with my friends, visit a graveyard, see old downtown Chipley again. Tomorrow, I’m off to Marianna to continue the information dig on Emmett.

But for now, I’m playing catch-up. As promised, I wanted to share some of the findings from St. Michael’s Cemetery.

My main purpose for the visit was to track down Minnie Kehoe,

Minnie Kehoe, 1924, passport photo. Source:

Minnie Kehoe, 1924, passport photo. Source:

the sister of J. Walter Kehoe, one of the first female attorneys in West Florida, a successful businesswoman who owned and ran her own stenography school, and a close friend of Emmett’s.

I think that if the stars had been properly aligned, Emmett and Minnie would probably have made an excellent pair. But the differences in age (she was 17 years older than Emmett), plus the fact that Emmett was viewed as a family member/younger brother of Kehoe, and the obvious handicap of Emmett’s addiction, made it unlikely.

After much hiking about the cemetery, my friend Nancy found her.

The topmost marker is that of Minnie's parents, Anne and John Kehoe. Minnie's is the bottom marker. The rain has disintegrated much of the engraving on these flat stones.

The topmost marker is that of Minnie’s parents, Anne and John Kehoe. Minnie’s is the bottom marker. The rain has disintegrated much of the engraving on these flat stones.


Minnie Eloise Kehoe. Requiescat in pace.

Minnie Eloise Kehoe. Requiescat in pace.

I admire Minnie tremendously. She was a woman ahead of her time; she was close friends with Emmett; she would have been a great source of information. She never married; she had no children, but it may be possible to obtain a copy of her will to see if she sent her papers or correspondence to an archive. Last year, I sought high and low for any of her papers, journals, correspondence, you name it. Lots of brick walls.

It has been awhile, though; maybe it is time to try again.

After we spent some time with Minnie, we walked around and took in some of the other resident’s markers.

This is a wooden marker. Nancy thought it cypress. Great condition for its age.

This is a wooden marker. Nancy thought it cypress. Great condition for its age.

Another set of interesting graves. Note the small outline of the stone framework. These weren't children's graves.

Another set of interesting graves. Note the small outline of the stone framework. These weren’t children’s graves.

The oak trees are ancient, massive, and mostly healthy in this graveyard. Lots of brown and green acorns on the ground beneath my feet as I walked along.


This oak could easily be 250 years old.


As I was looking at all the acorns on the ground, a small white stone, almost completely covered up, caught my eye. I brushed back the acorns and leaves, and uncovered this:

Charles Will Sutherland. That was all it said.

Charles W Sutherland. Nothing more.

I had to find out whose grave this was, almost completely hidden in the cemetery. What I found was this. And then, when I dug around a little deeper, I found this.

Apparently, the wife and mother who had such tragic losses within such a short time later remarried. She’s not buried near this child’s marker. The father may be close by, but the grave is probably unmarked.

Speaking of unmarked, there was this unusual grave marker within a fence enclosure:

It is a lot of shells embedded within concrete. No other marker or information.

It is a lot of shells embedded within concrete. No other marker or information.



Most unusual. I wonder about the story behind the shell-marked grave? This is obviously a child’s grave. I’m curious about the symbolism, and why the grave was covered in shells this way.

All of this visiting cemeteries makes me realize and appreciate how all of us — everyone — has a story to tell. All of the stories are important.

Even the little ones almost hidden under acorns and oak leaves.


Stories from St. Michael’s


I’ve been in Pensacola since Sunday night, and it has been nonstop research heaven. It has been a great trip so far; I’ve found a lot of new information, made new friends, and I feel a lot more confident about how this project is coming along.

When you work alone on a project, it is easy to let the isolation get to you. Not many folks up in Maryland know what I’m doing (outside of my university colleagues), nor do they really care about West Florida history from the early 1900s. But, the folks down here do, thank you very much, and everyone I’ve met has been helpful.

Today, I walked all over St. Michael’s Cemetery with my friend Nancy, who has been a tremendous help with the research this week. We were in search of Minnie Kehoe and/or any other Kehoe family members, and friends of Emmett’s who were buried here.

You can't drive in, but the gate opens to allow walk-throughs. Source:

You can’t drive in, but the gate opens to allow walk-throughs. Source:

We didn’t have a map, which might have expedited things. But, because we like to walk around in cemeteries and meet the folks there, we struck out to see what we could see.

It was great seeing the individuals I’ve been reading about on a daily basis for almost 30 months straight:

Martin & Kate Sullivan. Martin was a railroad and timber capitalist. Born in Ireland, died in Baltimore, buried here.

Martin & Kate Sullivan. Martin was a railroad and timber capitalist. Born in Ireland, died in Baltimore, buried here. Emmett definitely knew the Sullivans. A son is buried here, too, who was only about 25 years old when he died. Martin and Charles (the son) died only a month apart in 1911.

This is Daniel F. Sullivan, who 'gave Pensacola the First National Bank and the Opera House, according to the Daily Register of Mobile, Alabama. He died in 1884. It isn't stated clearly if he is related to the other Sullivans of the masoleum, but he was also big into timber, and originally from Ireland. They could be related. I haven't determined it yet.

This is Daniel F. Sullivan, who ‘gave Pensacola the First National Bank and the Opera House, according to the Daily Register of Mobile, Alabama. He died in 1884. It isn’t stated clearly if he is related to the other Sullivans of the masoleum, but he was also big into timber, and originally from Ireland. They could be related. I haven’t determined it yet.

As noted, some of the residents are more famous than others; the stones tell interesting stories.

Stephen Russell Mallory was Emmett's grandfather's law partner. Emmett's grandfather was A.E. Maxwell (buried at St. John's only a few rows up from Emmett).

Stephen Russell Mallory was Emmett’s grandfather’s law partner. Emmett’s grandfather was A.E. Maxwell (buried at St. John’s only a few rows up from Emmett).

You can’t see it in this photo but directly to the left of me was a huge rosemary bush. In fact, someone planted rosemary within the Mallory enclosure. I’d like to do that for Emmett’s grave, but you cannot (it will get cut down).

W.A. D'Alemberte, who was the father of one of Emmett's good friends, J. H. D'Alemberte. He was a druggist. There is an interesting story about his life here.

W.A. and Maidee D’Alemberte. W.A. (aka “Willoughby”) was the father of one of Emmett’s good friends, J. H. D’Alemberte. He was a druggist. There is an interesting story about his life here. Emmett was rather close to J.H. (aka “Herron”); he went on vacations with them, hung out with them. Herron was one of Emmett’s good friends. Tragically, Herron committed suicide in the 1930s; the family said it had to do with significant losses in the stock market. Herron is buried in Temple Beth-El Cemetery.

Owen Miner Avery.

Owen Miner Avery. Another prominent Pensacola family, the Averys. Emmett socialized with them often. Owen was a more senior relative.

I’m headed to Chipley this morning to spend time with friends, and then, to Marianna the next day for more research, so, I have to stop here for the moment.

I’ll post more details about the trek through St. Michael’s Cemetery a little later. It was a great trek! I did find Minnie — and a few more interesting folks and stories to share.

It’s great to be back in Pensacola!