The following sketch of Rev Charles Claudius Russell is taken from the memoirs of Margaret Porter Russell Cross, b. 30 Dec 1895, Sedalia Missouri; d. 22 Oct 1994, Houston Texas. This transcript was made from a typed copy of the original. Information in italics is added for clarity or confusion. Contact multimodal@juno.com with comments.
Memoirs is a sophisticated name for the random memories which I shall evoke as I pad along with my pencil. Sometimes I feel as if I've lived a very sheltered life; at other times it seems as if it has been full of drama and excitement.
My first memory is of riding in the old wicker baby-carriage while my brother, Richard Beard RUSSELL, two years younger than I, walked sturdily along beside my mother, [P*] Florence Beard - b.15 March 1862 at Sugar Grove KY; d. 14 March 1927 at Slater MO; bur. Sedalia MO; m. 27 Dec 1892 Charles Claudius RUSSELL at Bowling Green KY, and me. I had had a long illness in the summer and fall before I was 4 or maybe 5. I think I was never told what it was, but it might have been rheumatic fever. I have been told I had to learn to sit alone and walk all over. I have a very faint recollection of a disturbing experience when I was carried hastily to the home of a neighbor and my brother was charged not to leave my side. It seemed that our house had caught on fire while we were at breakfast and I was taken to safety. My Mother told me once of the anguish my Father, [P*] Charles Claudius Russell b. 18 May 1862-3 Andrews Co MO; d. 22 Dec 1937/8; bur. Sedalia MO; m. 2nd 21 Nov 1928 Hattie Hough, felt when neighbors carried arm-loads of his books out and threw them on the grass. He would rather they had been burned. They carried the marks of this ill-treatment all my life. The damage to the house was slight.
Marshall TX was just across the border from Louisiana, and on a direct railroad route and our manse was near the station, so Father had frequent run-away weddings. I recall that I heard my mother remonstrate with him once -- I was nosy -- and he replied that they'd just go to a justice of the peace; whereas if he performed the ceremony, they would know that their marriage vows were permanent. They must have been, for I remember frequent visits from couples he had married.
One wedding didn't come off so well. A young couple came to be married, and the young man gave Father $10. Father, a very deliberate man, left the young people in the parlor with Mother and walked slowly up and down the long veranda gathering his thoughts together. Soon a wailing voice was heard down the street, "My darling daughter, where have you gone? Is this the way you treat your old mother? How can you be so cruel?". The young people became very nervous; my father politely opened the gate and invited the Mother in, speaking quietly to her. She confronted her daughter, the latter became hysterical, the young man was silently chagrined. . My father was the only calm one -- reported my mother -- and finally elicited the sentiment that if they'd only be married by a Baptist preacher, she'd go along. By that time my brother and I had been awakened by the din and were sitting silently at the top of the stair-case, so we saw Father hand back the $10 and escort the little party to the front door. That was not quite the end of the story; the following Christmas my brother and I received a beautiful red wagon with the young man's card. But I think my Mother always regretted that $10.
Another wedding that I've heard my mother tell about concerned a beautiful young woman of our congregation. A young Yankee came down to work in the Bank and fell completely in love with the Southern Belle who was also attracted to him. After some flirtation, the attachment became serious, and marriage was proposed. The young woman said she would marry no one, unless he was a Democrat, a Presbyterian and a Mason. This caused some delay as the young man was a Catholic and a Republican. It was easy to become a Democrat as at that time in Texas; there was no other party. Becoming a Presbyterian and a Mason required my Father's help, but the goals were all achieved, the wedding accomplished and, as far as I know, it was successful.
It was in Marshall that my Father came home one day without his neat Van Dyke beard and we children didn't recognize him. It was there also, that my Father came from town greatly agitated and I remember my Mother asking him " Was there nothing you could do?" and he answered , "Nothing.". It was years before I knew that a Negro man was lynched on the court-house square.
My brother and I had reserved seats at the top of the stair-case for all manner of entertainment. Frequently, there was a guest of the type my Mother called "straggling preachers" who had appealed to my Father for a nights lodging. They were never refused. We children would listen enthralled to hot discussions of "infant damnation", "infant baptism", "immersion" and such theological questions. I believe my Father was a conservative but he was irrevocably opposed to infant "damnation".
Mother hated to leave Texas. Uncle Richard always said when Sis got ready to go to heaven, she'd have to go by Texas. In Dallas, for the first time in her married life, she didn't have a manse, or have the responsibilities of a pastor's wife. We had very little money, but a freedom we had never experienced before.
Our stay in Birmingham was brief. Father's health had never been good after his experiences as a missionary in Mexico. Because of the altitude, he suffered a break down and he was threatened with another, so he accepted the pastorate of a small church in Fort Payne, Alabama [ca 1905-6]. Fort Payne had been a booming town and was deliberately killed by the mine interests in Birmingham.
There was a college there, North Alabama College. It must have been a state teacher's college and Father spent much time there earning his Ph.D. ca. 1905, I remember the graduation exercises where he delivered his thesis, but it didn't mean much to me. We heard him deliver every Sunday in church.
Father took me to Chattanooga in 1906 to have my tonsils out and went on to the General Assembly while I came home on the train with a fine disregard for any possibility of hemorrhage.
At the General Assembly, the vote was cast to join our small Cumberland Presbyterian denomination with the larger Presbyterian denomination, U.S. Not wanting to join the hold-outs, who refused to unite, and looking for fresh challenges Father accepted a call to Cherryvale, Kansas, of all places, and went directly there. So for the first time, Mother was given the responsibility of packing up and moving. She also had to cope with the anxiety and prayers of her friends who were confident we were going to our death from Indian scalpers.
Father was a very colorful character, though we didn't know it. I've often thought our experiences would make a story as entertaining as "Life with Father" or "Papa was a Preacher" but I remember that Father said about Ed Howe, when he wrote about his Father, "I don't see how anyone could write in ridicule of the Father who gave him life." So what I write is not in ridicule or criticism of my Father, it is written in love. Father was a very emotional man, easily moved to tears, a very sensitive man. He could not take a joke at his expense. Once I was visiting in Slater, Missouri - near Marshall, when some callers came and found me looking at Father's photograph album. We were laughing heartily at the primitive clothes and hair-cuts when Father reached for the album, marched downstairs and threw it in the furnace. What would Frances give for that album now!
Father was a restless man. As a young man he had read law in the office of Dan Baker in Maryville, Missouri, south of Elmo and passed the bar examination. He was engaged to be married to Dan's sister Mary. The long hours of study impaired his eye-sight and Mary died. Deciding he was going blind, he went to Nebraska, took up a claim for free land ca. 1885-6, built a sod-house and undertook to mend his emotions. He stayed there long enough to prove up his claim and, for years, paid taxes on the land. I don't know what became of it.
[Richard Russell -son - writes on 11 June 1922: [CC with family] moved to Nodaway County [MO] in 1867. Went to school, country school Nodaway Co. Then to Amity College, College Springs Iowa. Studied law in office of Judge Ira K. Alderman, Marysville Mo and was admitted to the bar of Mo. July 1884. Went into ministry in 1888, under care of Lebanon [TN] Cumberland Presbyterian Church. Ordained in Sept 1889, at Old Beach Church, near Gallatin, Tenn. Graduated from Cumberland University with B.D. June, 1890 [P*], Ph. D. Degree from North Alabama College in 1905]
He sympathized with my dislike for tomatoes but said that if I ever got hungry enough I'd eat them. He said he walked in many miles from his claim one day and reached town after the supper hour at the Hotel. All they could give him was sliced tomatoes, bread, butter, and cold coffee and he said it was food for the gods, though he had never liked tomatoes before. He was always afterwards very fond of them.
It was during this that he received his call to the ministry and bargained with God to devote his life to the proclamation of the gospel if he gained his eye sight. He went to visit Uncle Elbert, Father's brother, Elbert Ewing b. 5 Jan 1859; d. 20 Sept 1937 Marionville MO [P*] in San Antonio, but Frances Nelson, granddaughter of EE and author of book on Russells says El Paso. There a doctor fitted him with glasses and as far as I know, the prescription was never changed. However, I could pass him on the street without being recognized and he offended numerous people by failing to recognize them. He said he was glad when he became old enough top speak to everyone without danger of being called "fresh" and he gravely raised his hat as he passed by any lady. As a young man he affected a cane, and he always carried one, swinging it jauntily as he walked.
When he traveled, always by train, he sat by choice in the smoking-car and came home smelling to Heaven of tobacco smoke. He never wore a clerical collar and enjoyed the curiosity he aroused. Once in a restaurant a man approached him and asked him to settle a wager. He had guessed Father to be a college Professor, his friend had judged that he was a lawyer. Father simply told him they both lost and gave no further information.
After Father determined to be a minister, he went to school in Lebanon, Tennessee where L. John Weber went, and the Union Theological Seminary. Some of the costs for the education were still being paid in my memory. He served as interim pastor in Bowling Green one summer and there he met Florence Beard, ca. 1889. Their romance was cut short by his decision to go as a missionary to Mexico and continued by mail. He told me once that he threw away his last cigar as he floated down the Mississippi to New Orleans. He learned to speak Spanish so well that he even thought in Spanish -- always amazing to me, who found thinking in English arduous.
He went to Aguas Calientes and worked hard on a difficult field. There are two such villages southeast if Acapulco near the Guatamalan border. There is an Aguascaliente northeast of Guadalajara towards San Luis Potosi. He told of going to a strange town once and seeking accommodations at the local hotel. The manager reluctantly assigned him a bare cell with a board bunk, no pillow or blankets, no facilities for washing, no closet. He went out to call on the mayor who timidly gave him a Masonic hand-grip. At this response, they became good friends. When he returned to the hotel, his room had a stand with basin, pitcher and towels, the bunk was furnished with pillow and blankets, so he was very comfortable. He always had good words to say for Mexico, but he suffered from malaria and always attributed the beginning of his deafness to the quantities of quinine he was given. The altitude affected his nerves, and he was forced to return to the States where he and Mother were married, December 17, 1892. His nervous state resulted in insomnia and Mother told of playing checkers with him in the night watches many times. He had recurrences of the nervous ailment several times in later life.
He never lost his tendency to insomnia and usually was up by 5 o'clock. However, he had trained himself to stretch out anywhere, floor, bench in a railway station, grassy ground in the woods, and relax so as to fall asleep for five or ten minutes and awaken completely refreshed. After studying for a couple of hours in the morning, he'd decide it was time for the household to arise, so he'd strike up a stirring tune on the piano, "All Hail the Power of Jesus Name" or "Onward Christian Soldiers" and keep it up till Mother and I sleepily appeared for breakfast. I don't know whether Richard didn't hear the summons, or chose not to hear. At any rate, he appeared when he got ready. Mother and I were always fully dressed; father didn't allow any robes or curlers at the table. Neither did he ever sit down without his coat and tie.
Father hated to shave and worked out a system by which he shaved early on Sunday, a little later each day till his procedure was an evening one on Friday. Then on Saturday, glory be! He didn't have to shave. Misfortune befell when he was summoned for a funeral or wedding on Saturday.
Twice when we lived in Garnett, Father decided to spend his vacation working in the harvest fields as an itinerant worker. He must have had a great time, as he returned home dirty and tired, with lank hair and stubby beard, usually with pockets empty.
Two summers he spent on the Chautauqua circuit, giving his lecture, "You and Your Kin" to the rural audiences. It was an early version of the "One World" theme which made Wendell Wilkie, 1940 Republican Presidential candidate, famous. Each of us spent a weekend with him on tour and enjoyed the background of show biz.
Another enterprise of Father's was to compile a city directory for our little town of Garnett. After days of tramping the streets getting information, he proudly had it printed and sliced his profits by giving copies to practically every one. He did the same thing in two other small towns and reaped small profit. His experience was invaluable, but what for?
One of Father's pet peeves was the practice of singing verses one, two, and five of a hymn. In the first place hymns were divided into stanzas, not verses, and to leave out one or two stanzas spoiled the entity of the hymn. He could not bear to write in a book, so the Russells never underlined passages. I do it now under protest. We finally prevailed upon him to write his name in his books, and that cut down the loss of books he lent. He loved a good novel and I remember my Mother's doubt when he bought a set of French novels. "Mr. Russell, what effect will they have on the children?" "They will not read them." Little did he know! I wonder what became of them? Was it Camille I grieved over? Once when I was sick, Richard must have brought me "When Knighthood was in Flower" and I was greedily devouring it when Dad came to visit me, confiscated it and offered me "Hamlet". Such a companion for a sick girl. As soon as I was able, I read "Knighthood" and found nothing objectionable --- maybe I was not sophisticated enough. On the other hand, when we were quite young, Dad read "The Prisoner of Zenda" to us and carefully explained Rudolph Rosendalis illegitimacy. The Prisoner was one of his favorite novels.
Dad would not allow me to wear short-sleeved dresses. I was on the basketball team; all other girls wore rompers -- not I. I had an ankle-length skirt. Consequently, I was the last sub. I was never allowed to go on school picnics, because, for the most part, they were unchaperoned. When I began teaching, I vowed I'd chaperone any social activity I was asked to, and I was invited frequently. When middy blouses became popular, I wanted one but Dad refused to allow me to have it. When I was going to college, Mother made me one, secretly, and we hid it in the bottom of my trunk.
Father didn't especially object to dancing or card-playing on principle. But he explained that it was very bad for his reputation. I was a conformist but Richard did pretty much as he pleased. However, dancing was not his dish of tea.
Dad loved games. We learned to count on dominoes and we played checkers. As we grew older "Flinch" was our game. Still later, we found a game called "Raffles" which Dad said was whist in colors instead of court [?] cards. Dad and I were always partners against Mother and Richard. Mother was gallant about playing, but she'd rather be reading or writing. Dad was a poor loser, and I expect I was, also. But Richard gloated when he won. Emma Mutchler said to me once, "I can't understand you. You cry if you lose and you cry if Richard losses". She didn't have a beloved brother.
Dad was a confirmed coffee drinker; he drank every day till our big pot was emptied. From time to time, for some reason, he'd miss his coffee and develop a raging headache. He'd proclaim he'd not be a slave to anything and summarily quit coffee, enduring the ensuing headaches. After a time, the longing for coffee would convince him that he was free of that habit and he'd begin drinking coffee. The cycle was repeated over and over in my experience.
He liked eggs, any way. In fact, Mother said that Grandmother Russell told her the way to please any of her boys was to mix up eggs, sugar and milk. Mother profited by that suggestion, so we had lots of boiled custard, baked custard, rice pudding and occasionally bread pudding. We all enjoyed such desserts and they made up for the fact that we never had pie. Mother thought it was not digestible and she didn't even try to make pie. But we always had fruit and Dad never got enough apples. He didn't care for oranges so we had them only at Christmas, but we had barrels of apples every winter. I remember Uncle Tom saying he had an orange every Christmas and he vowed when he grew up he'd have a barrel of them. As I remember, he was not especially fond of them, later.
When we went to Kansas we heard of something called the Grand Army of the Republic, a flourishing social organization for Union veterans - like the American Legion. The new preacher and his family were invited to social functions of the G.A.R. On one occasion there was a group singing and one of the songs was " Marching Through Georgia". Musical Father sang lustily. When we returned home I remember Mother asking indignantly, " Where did you learn that song?" I'm not sure what his answer was but he had grown up in Missouri, which was a melting pot. Mother was an unregenerate rebel to the end, although she mellowed somewhat as she grew older.
Father always stood, bareheaded, alone during the playing of "Dixie". In the days of annual Chautauquas, that happened practically every day. While Richard and I were not allowed to go to shows and the skating-rink was taboo because it was above a pool-hall we always had tickets to the Chautauqua and to the Lyceum programs in the Opera House in winter. Richard sometimes escaped surveillance and sat in the gallery where he could tear up his program and drop it over the edge - more fun!
Mother laughed at Dad because he spelled "minute" minnit and possibly other words as they sounded. Once when I was struggling with ei and ie words, he told me his method, to write the two letters identical and put the dot in between. Mother would have frowned on such a compromise. Once when I was fuming over something that I had to do, Father suggested that I delay it till the morrow. Maybe I'd die during the night and would never have to do whatever it was that I dreaded. That philosophy was entirely opposite to Mother's. If something was distasteful, she tackled it at once to get it over.
My Grandmother BEARD, Mary Thomas PORTER, was engaged, as a young woman, to her cousin, Thomas CARSON. I believe there is a daguerreotype of the two of them [P*]. But he died of ubiquitous consumption. She was the daughter of Rev. Nathaniel PORTER, CPC, of Sugar Grove KY.
I have failed to speak of Father's appearance in the pulpit. He always wore a Prince Albert coat and striped trousers. His shirt was stiff-basamed [?] and he wore a high, stiff collar. When I was young he wore bow ties of white cambric [?]. A tie could be used only once, so Mother thriftily used the ties for ruffles on my dresses. I believe there is a picture of Richard wearing a white pique dress with a large collar trimmed in a ruffle [P*] which, I am sure was made of Cambric ties.
Father took his glasses off when he preached -- he never used notes. As he could see practically nothing without his glasses, he was not distracted by the audience. How he recognized restlessness or whispering by his children, I'll never know; but we always heard about our mis-behavior.
Father in later life had a weight problem and he'd go upon periods of starvation to lose weight. As soon as he got down to the 175 he considered normal, he'd resume his usual eating habits. One thing he felt he had to have, hot biscuits at every meal. Mother was a superb biscuit -maker. I remember he said to me once about Mrs Hattie, "Margaret, she can't make a biscuit." but she had other virtues which he admired.
I should add that later Father wore the conventional four-in hand ties. In summer, he often came from church soaked to the skin, but he never wore a clerical collar. I'm sure he would have considered that Papish.
1895 Sedalia MO
1897 Carmichael PA
1899- Selma AL
1901
1901- Marshall TX
1903
1903- Dallas TX
1904
1904- Birmingham AL
1905
1905- Ft Payne AL
1906
1906- Cherryvale KS
1906-07 6th Grade
1907-08 7th Grade
1908-09 8th Grade
1909-10 HS
1910 Garnett KS
1910-11 HS
1911-12 HS
1912-13 HS