I leave the transcription of Ira Sayles’ letter. I lay it aside, figuratively, in a file inside a folder on my laptop. And yet its presence generates a rumbling, incessant turmoil.
Listen. Listen to me.
The connection between past and present demands attention, but I can’t make out just exactly what that link is.
I find Ira tiresome, pompous, bloviating. It is difficult to discern the reformer, the citizen scientist, the wannabe poet, a man I would like to proudly claim as ancestor.
To write a thorough narrative of Ira Sayles’ life requires me to do just that, however. My great-great-grandfather was a man of his time, complex and earnest; a man wrestling with the coexistence of science and God, and the evolving status of women. Little wonder that I find this genealogical work so arduous.
I would love to hear from fellow family researchers. What do you do when you smell a great story but don’t really like the ancestor? How do you expand the narrative?
Thanks to cousin, blog reader, and James K Sayles descendant, Sharon Babcock, for sharing her stash of family artifacts.
Christiansville, Mecklenburg Co. Va.
Wednesday P.M., April 10, 1872
My Dear Brother James,
Yours of March 14, was duly received, and somewhat astonished me with its announcement of your affliction. If my sympathy could cure you, it is sincerely at your disposal. I know that kind words can soothe the spirit, though they may not heal the infirmities. “that flesh is heir to.” Nevertheless the spirits’ wounds and diseases are far more incurable than those of the body. This great world of humanity is a mass of bodily rotenness (sic); but its infirmities of spirit create a stench that rises high Heaven and sinks deeper than Hell! Believe you this? In man there is no help. He has sought for panaceas. He pompously proclaims his discoveries. The simple pay their money and swallow his nostrums; make wry faces and die! Still, untaught by failure, they pour out their golden gifts, hoping for relief, though half-persuaded they have been humbugged. But, when told the more alarming disease of the inner man, they open wide the eyes of incredulity, give you a broad grin—a regular alligator grin—turn away, and say, “I guess you’r (sic) joking.” So on they fare; from generation to generation.
I am rambling. Let me come back. You are sick of palsy. Nothing to be trifled with. Your physician will, of course, try to bring about recovery—may succed (sic) –hopeable. You allude to your religious faith in the matter. A sincere, calm trust in Providence is of more consequence than all else: that, however, is really effective only when our xxxx takes the life of the Son of Mary as his modle (sic), after which he is willing closely to pattern. I have spent years in studying these matters, and my Father has gradually opened to me the whole scheme, scope and aim of human life, with all the human faculties and susceptibilities. He gave us the exhibition of the Life of Jesus, as the modle(sic) of a perfect man. Through Him He promises to confer on the perfect man Immortal Life; and, in the resuscitation of the mangled carcass of Jesus, after a death of nearly three days, He demonstrates His power to fulfill His promises. Now, all this is strictly scientific, if we make our scientific basis broad enough: if we make it too narrow we fail to reach this great fact. The narrow-based scientist and the narrow-based religionist are forever at loggerheads. Both are dogmatic: both wrong. The scientist sees just to the end of his nose, and thinks that the whole universe. The religionist scarcely sees from our corner of his eye to the other yet he thinks nothing worth seeing, which he don’t (sic) such are the facts in the case. IF your religion rests on a ‘scientific basis’, be sure that your basis is broad enough.
Anything I write, let anybody read who will.
And Anna—that little chub-faced, flax haired, blue-eyed blond-is a bona fideschool marm! Well, I hope she is a live one: but I can only think of her as that little girl that used to sit on my knee. Ah! That was eight years ago! How they fly! Since then, what a multitude of facts have occurred in my own life history! Yes, Anna has had ample time to develop into womanhood. I xxxxxxx old, grey headed man! Astonishing! Isn’t it? You are five and a half years my junior. You are in your fiftieth year: and Lucinda, well, I don’t know how old she is; nor does it matter: old-womanhood is sure to overtake her soon. You speak of Frankey. Who is Frankey? I have not had an introduction: and this is coming it rather on the side cut. Well, I hope both you and Frankey will recover, now that spring is really on. Our peach trees have been in bloom for three days. A cool dry wind is blowing from the west today. We have been
This post examines the letter Ira Sayles, my great-great-grandfather, wrote to his brother James in July of 1869 for its tantalizing clues of sibling whereabouts.
Many thanks to cousin, blog-reader, and James Sayles descendant, Sharon Babcock, for sharing her family stash.
A bit of Review
Ira Sayles (1817-1894) was one of nine children born to Christopher and Sarah [King] Sayles. In 1824, the family migrated from Burrillville, Rhode Island to Westfield Township in the Cowanesque Valley of Tioga County, Pennsylvania. By mid-century, however, few of the Sayles kids remained in that northern tier county.
As I systematically reviewed what I knew or wanted to know about each person mentioned, the 1869 letter became more than a sibling’s let-me-catch-up-with-you. It documents family movements and issues that are inextricably tied with economic and social events that prompted mass migrations of people in the mid-19th century.
let me reintroduce Ira
Ira, the eldest child, was the first to leave the Westfield homeplace, to apprentice in a woolen mill located in Whitesville, Allegany County, New York, in 1837. It was a poor fit for the voracious reader and Ira leapt at the chance to become a student at an Allegany County academy in Alfred in 1839. With the exception of military service in Virginia during 1862-1863, Ira resided in Allegany County, just over the New York-Pennsylvania border from his family, for the next thirty years, serving as a teacher and/or principal:
at Alfred Academy,
then Rushford Academy,
back to Alfred Academy,
and, after the war,
once again at Rushford Academy.
And it is from Rushford that Ira wrote to James in 1869.
Who Else is mentioned in this letter?
James (1822-1882), the letter’s recipient, was a fiery-tempered, hazel eyed younger brother, who remained in his hometown to become first a machinist and then a hotelier. In the mid-1860s James, wife Lucinda, and their family disappeared from Ira’s life.
“Yours of the 18 inst[ant] came to hand, last evening. I need not say I was somewhat surprised: for I had lost all trace of you…I am glad to receive a line now,” said Ira.
A line from Austin, Minnesota where James and his wife Lucinda had purchased a farm in the south central part of that state.
Another person mentioned is the blue-eyed middle child, Loren. “[He] is in East Boston, I suppose.”
This brother had left Westfield in his twenties to study at Alfred Academy before relocating to Lowell, Massachusetts where he married Francis Weymouth in 1855. Shortly thereafter, the couple trekked across the continent to Cosumnes, a gold mining camp in the Michigan Bar District of California. After trying his hand as a miner, Loren, his wife, and baby daughter returned to the east coast, to East Boston, where Loren likely worked as a machinist in the area’s shipbuilding yards.
And wrote to Ira inquiring about other family members. “He (Loren) has twice inquired of me for you. I could not tell. The matter has rested.”
A third person is discussed in that note to James–Ira’s wife, my great-great-grandmother, Serena Crandall White Sayles. The couple was living together in a house across Main Street from Rushford Academy. Serena was a full-time homemaker, assisted by black teenager, Virginia Copeland, and mother to three surviving children, Clifton, Merlin, and Christopher Sherman.
Serena was also the controller of the family’s purse-strings, a role that Ira seems to have resented. Ira’s principal salary was devoured by family expenses and any financial flexibility was attributed to his wife’s assets, given or bequeathed to Serena by her parents, Samuel S. and Nancy Teater White.
“Serena does not dispose of much of her landed property, though of some. She is moving to sell her Alfred property, house and all, for six thousand. It ought to bring ten thousand. She wanted me to invest her means in Virginia lands. Then she thought she didn’t dare trust me alone, so she went with me. It was exceedingly warm; and I suspect she will not go again very soon.”
“I could get and make a splendid home there, at a very low price. But it is all of no use. The means of making such a home are hers. Where she says invest, there investment will be made, or nowhere.”
Once Correspondence, Now Evidence
Ira wrote to bring James up to speed on family news. It was a conversation via post.
For me now, the letter provides evidence of family members’ residences, as well as evidence of marital discord. It also offers evidence of when the Sayles first began to consider relocating to Mecklenburg County, Virginia.
Ira’s determination to remain connected with his extended family unwittingly recorded how the era’s political and economic whirlwinds separated family networks and reinforced racial hierarchies.
In taking his animal husbandry, blacksmithing, and business skills west, James joined a stream of white settlers that flooded into Minnesota lands from which indigenous peoples had been forcibly removed during the US-Dakota War of 1862.
Loren trained as a machinist, and left the mountains of rural Pennsylvania to participate in the northeast’s textile economy, which thrived off the cotton picked by enslaved labor. Loren then sought opportunity amidst the gold rush in California and returned to the industrial opportunities of East Boston‘s ship yards.
Ira, though chafing at his wife’s property rights, contemplated the possibilities of migrating to a reconstructing south.
All three families were white, descendants of Rhode Island British colonizers. The Sayles families moved to opportunity, confident that they would be welcomed and capable of moving again if prospects didn’t work out. They negotiated no bans, confronted no xenophobic signs, carried no passes or permission to travel from employers or law enforcement.
Three different stories. Three different sets of choices that separated siblings. All remained joined by the position they, as white men, occupied in the country’s hierarchy of color, race, and opportunity.
Beyond pricking my conscience about white intergenerational opportunity, the letter also prompts questions for further family research.
How much was an average teacher’s salary in post-war New York? Virginia? Nationally?
What were the laws in New York and Virginia governing a married woman’s right to own property and control her wages?
What were the motives for Serena and Ira’s consideration of a Virginia residence?
How do the answers to these questions affect my understanding of what unfolded in the next decade for Serena and Ira?
Rushford, Allg. Co., N.Y., Saturday, July 24, 1869
My Dear Brother, James,
Yours of the 18 inst[ant] came to hand, last evening. I need not say I was somewhat surprised: for I had lost all trace of you. My last to you was directed to La Porte, and was never answered. I received a paper published at Austin, Minn., sometime last summer, a year ago. Your name was on it, and I supposed you sent it. This was all the clue I had to your whereabouts. I could not discover where that was mailed. So I supposed you would rather I should not know. Of course I was quiet. I am glad to receive a line now.
Since I wrote to you, my matters have run along in the usual track. My year’s expenses devoured my year’s salary, and left me as poor, today, as one year ago today.
Serena does not dispose of much of her landed property, though of some. She is moving to sell her Alfred property, house and all, for six thousand. It ought to bring ten thousand. She wanted me to invest her means in Virginia lands. Then she though she didn’t dare trust me alone, so she went with me. It was exceedingly warm; and I suspect she will not go again very soon.
I could get and make a splendid home there, at a very low price. But it is all of no use. The means of making such a home are hers. Where she says invest, there investment will be made, or nowhere.
Loren is in East Boston, I suppose. He has twice inquired of me for you. I could not tell. The matter has rested.
I am again engaged in this school, for another year. So you will know where I may be found.
This season has been a very unfavorable one for corn with us; but wheat has done well. Grass has a heavy growth, but the weather for haymaking is tremendous. No one can guess what hour may rain like Noah’s flood. These rains are frequently cold as April rains.
We are all very well. I have not recently heard from any of our brothers and sisters.
My respects to Lucinda and Anna.
Very truly Your Brother Ira
Letter from Ira Sayles to James K. Sayles, 1869, from the Sayles Family Collection, privately held by Sharon Babcock (address for private use); transcribed by Kay Strickland 25 February 2019.
Ira Sayles (1817-1894) was the author's great-great-grandfather.
In 1884 letters to his buddy, Edwin B Hall in Wellsville (NY), Ira set out his specs for what sounded like a utopian “home”, where fellow believers of THE WAY OF IRA would live in harmony. Clearly, the estrangement with Serena and his sons ruled out Virginia as a potential location.
Ira went on to state that he intended to head out west and carve from the Public Domain land that he can call home. Buoyed by the steady income from his employment with the United States Geological Survey, Ira seemed keen on making the move in the next couple of years.
Records show Ira hopscotching from town to town, collecting fossil specimens in Appalachian strata, and residing in either Washington, D.C. or Ithaca, NY (Cornell connection) while labeling and organizing the collections for the National Museum for the best part of a decade.
Ira did go west, eventually.
The 75 year old suffered a stroke in November 1891 while in Ithaca, that reduced the capacity of his right arm. Another life-threatening “attack” forced his hospitalization while in Washington, D.C. the following February. Just weeks after the second illness, a Greensburg (KS) newspaper reported that Captain Ira Sayles had arrived to make his home with his brother Loren, the city’s water engineer. But that experiment out west ended in July 1892.
Ira returned to Washington, D.C., where he applied for a pension on August 2 based on his military service in 1862-1863 . Later that week Ira collapsed at the Pennsylvania Railroad Depot and was whisked away while unconscious to the Emergency Hospital.
A former colleague, Dr. R. R. Gurley saw a notice of the hospitalization in the paper and went to visit the elderly friend. Seeing that Ira was intent on leaving the hospital though weak and confused, Dr. Gurley persuaded Ira to spend a few days at his home in Carlins (now in Alexandria) before continuing his travels.
Ira remained in DC until at least October when he was examined by pension board of examiners’ doctors, Little and Davis. Their report indicated that an inguinal hernia (completely returnable and held in by truss!) and some heart disease limited his ability to do manual labor, and therefore qualified him for a disability pension.
Later that fall, the patriarch traveled to his son’s home, where he remained confined and totally dependent on family formerly estranged.
The pension was approved in June 1893, and payments sent to Chase City, where he died a year later.
Without his home.
"…the small still voice spoke to the soul, and the soul listened, bowed and received the instruction given it. So shall my labor be. I will speak to those only that wish to hear, and hear but to obey. Every principle I teach, shall become an active element in the lives of them that hear. Whoever hears but refuses to practice, will hear no more. He cannot live with me; and so shall it be with them that follow me. My home shall be the home of such and of such only as wish to live the life that I teach and… (missing)” ~~Ira Sayles in a letter to EB Hall, 1884
I find this man and his life struggles fascinating.