Steven Butler's Family History Website

BIOGRAPHIES INDEX

Biographies

A Home in Texas
Original 1994 Introduction

By Steven R. Butler

I first became interested in my family's history more than twenty years ago when I came across a box of old photographs in the attic of my father's house. They belonged to my grandmother, Alice Tate Butler, who was then living in a nursing home near Dallas.

The next time "Nannie" came to my father's house for a visit, I brought the box down and sat with her as she told me the names of the people in the photographs and something about them. Of course, I also asked her a number of questions, which she was happy to answer as best she could. But unfortunately, at the age of eighty-six, her memory was not all it had once been. I think my grandmother was probably as frustrated as I was that she wasn't always able to provide an answer - simply because she couldn't remember.

Not surprisingly, she was able to tell me more about her own family, the Tates, than about my grandfather's family, the Butlers.

A few months later, my grandmother died, three months short of what would have been her eighty-seventh birthday. Fortunately, I've been able to recall some of what she told me. It's equally fortunate that on the backs of some of the photographs, she used a pencil to write the names of persons depicted. But since that day in late 1971, when we sat in my father's house and talked, I have frequently regretted that I didn't make an audio tape of our conversation and that I didn't take any notes.

During the early part of 1972, I began the research which has resulted in this book Not unnaturally, I've always been more interested in learning about the family whose surname I bear, Butler, than any other. Unfortunately, that family has proven to be the most difficult to trace. When I started, no one alive, including my grandmother, seemed to know much about the family beyond the fact that my grandfather, Herman Butler, and his sisters had grown up in Denison, Texas during the 1890's - before coming to live in Dallas around the turn of the century, and that my great-grandfather, William O. Butler, had died in Dallas County in 1910. For several years, I was unable to learn much more.

My biggest break, so far, came in 1977. A letter I sent to the genealogical columnist of The Dallas Morning News was published, asking any of the column's readers who might know something about the family of William O. Butler and his children, Herman, Ozelle and Lillian, to please contact me. Although hopeful, I knew it was a long shot and I really didn't expect it to produce any results. To my surprise, I received a telephone call the very day the column with my letter appeared in print. Initially skeptical, I questioned the caller, an elderly woman who lived in the Lakewood section of Dallas. I asked her about things that hadn't been mentioned in the column and which only a genuine member of the family would know. When she was able to answer these questions, as well as tell me things I didn't already know, I was elated. I went to visit her the very next day. The lady's name was Tressa Butler - on account of her marriage to the late H. Allen Butler of Dallas, a man who apparently was not related to my branch of the Butler family. As it turned out, Tressa and I were distant cousins by virtue of the fact that her grandmother, Lucy Babb, was also my great-great grandmother.

Until I met Tressa Butler, I hadn't even heard of Lucy Babb, or of most of the other family members she told me about. As she spoke, I learned that Tressa's father, Arthur Babb, was the half-brother of my great-grandmother, Virginia Alice Owen - who had been married to my great-grandfather William O. Butler. Arthur's and Virginia's mother, Lucy, had been twice-married. Her first husband, Madison Owen, had died in 1852, after fathering three girls - one of whom was Virginia Alice. In 1853, Lucy married Isaac L. Babb, by whom she had a second family, which included Arthur.

In his old age, Arthur Babb wrote the story of his life, mentioning several members of his family - including the Butlers. Today, Arthur's reminiscences, hand-written in pencil, 'are in my possession. They were given to me by Tressa's only daughter Helen, after Tressa died a few years ago. Most of what Tressa Butler told me came from her father's writings. So, although I'm grateful she contacted me, I am especially indebted to Arthur Babb.

Arthur Babb's collection of writings and reminiscences has proved valuable not only for the information it contains but also for the clues it has provided, leading to the discovery of "new" information found elsewhere. For example, it was not until I learned that Arthur had been born in Fairfield, Texas that I thought to examine early federal census records for Freestone County to see if any members of the Butler family had ever lived there. The result was the discovery of a whole generation of Butlers previously unknown to me. And the knowledge that Lucy Babb was first married while living in southern Arkansas led to the revelation that my great-great-grandparents, Alfred and Mary Butler, had been married in that region, almost exactly one-hundred years before I was born. I also learned that Lucy Babb and Mary Butler were sisters.

One particular piece of information, supplied by Arthur Babb, has had a farreaching effect on my life - far beyond merely increasing my knowledge.

Arthur alleged that Lucy Babb's first husband, my great-great-grandfather Madison Owen, had participated in the 1846-1848 War with Mexico. In addition, Tressa Butler told me that her father had once owned a diary Madison Owen kept during the time he spent in Mexico. Unfortunately, by the time I met Tressa in 1977 she had long ago loaned it to another distant relative and couldn't remember who. But fortunately, Arthur Babb had transcribed a portion of the diary, including some of its brief entries among his miscellaneous writings.

In 1983, I sought to confirm Owen's supposed military service. At the downtown Dallas Public Library (where I've conducted a great deal of my research) I examined the National Archives microfilmed index of Mexican War Volunteers. To my disappointment, Owen wasn't listed (I've since concluded he must have been a civilian teamster employed by the Army) but when I searched for other ancestors in the same age-group (not really expecting any results), there was the name of Alfred Butler! I've since acquired from the National Archives copies of papers relating to Butler's military service which have proved invaluable in piecing together the details of his life. But just as importantly, the knowledge of Alfred Butler's Mexican War service eventually led to my decision, in 1989, to create a new national lineage society dedicated to honoring veterans of the Mexican War. Today, The Descendants of Mexican War Veterans can boast more than two hundred members nationwide who are proud of the society's role in helping to establish the Palo Alto Battlefield National Historic Park near Brownsville, Texas as well as efforts to erect historic markers at other sites, most notably Old Fort Brown.

My only regret about this book is that of necessity it was pieced together primarily from information contained in public records. Unfortunately, with the notable exception of Arthur Babb, it appears that no other family member has kept or created a detailed written record of their life. In some cases, this was simply because a person was unable to read or write. Alfred Butler, I'm certain, was illiterate for at least the first half of his life - and there is no proof that he later learned to write anything more than his own name. Others, who could read and write, may simply have lacked the time or inclination. Perhaps some simply believed that nothing they ever did might be of interest to someone else. How wrong they were!

Of course it may be that some of my ancestors did create a record of their lives but, like Madison Owen's Mexican War diary, these efforts have since been misplaced, or worse, discarded or destroyed by persons who didn't recognize their value.

In the course of my research (which continues to this day), I've examined more reels of microfilm than I care to think about and have pored through more old dusty books than anyone can imagine. When the records I wanted to see weren't available in books or on microfilm, I've traveled long distances to find the originals most often found in the basements of county courthouses scattered across Texas. Unable to spend time conducting research outside Texas, I've corresponded with numerous county clerks and other individuals located in several states - primarily Arkansas, Alabama and North Carolina. The amount of time I've spent on this project, not to mention the time its taken to organize the resulting paperwork, as well as the money I've spent on postage, copy fees, and gasoline is probably better left uncalculated.

What frustrates me is that my efforts have not produced more results. My present goal, having found the first of my Butler ancestors to come to Texas, is to find the first who came to America. Indeed, it's possible I may have already found him. However, for the moment, all the evidence I have is purely circumstantial. Lacking definite proof, I cannot say with certainty that he is the one. In addition, there is a gap of more than a hundred years between this man and the earliest ancestor of whom I am certain. There is still so much work to be done.

Whenever possible, I have taken the time to seek and out and visit the places where my ancestors lived, worked, and in some instances, participated in some of the more momentous events of our nation's history.

A little more than a year ago my father and I stood on the Loma de Estrella, a long narrow ridge of land situated alongside the Rio Grande, not far from where the river disgorges its waters into the Gulf of Mexico. There, amongst the cactus, Spanish dagger, and mesquite trees, my great-great grandfather, Alfred Butler, along with some 8,000 other American soldiers, was camped during the summer of 1846, at the beginning of the Mexican War. Later that same day, we walked upon the sands of Brazos Island, where Alfred Butler, as a private in the First Alabama Regiment of Volunteers, first set foot on Texas soil on July 4, 1846. For me, the experience was moving. I tried to imagine what Alfred would have thought if he could have known that one day, nearly a hundred and fifty years later, two of his descendants would be at that place, thinking of him and wondering how he must have felt as he prepared to go to war.

I've also visited Fairfield, Texas a number of times. There, I've established with certainty the location of both parcels of land the Butler family owned in that town. And I've been to Denison, near the Texas-Oklahoma border, where I've found three of the five houses in which my great-grandfather William Butler and his family lived. Sadly, most of the houses in which my ancestors resided in Dallas during the late 1800's and early 1900's have vanished, demolished to make way for new development. As a result, although I'm able to pinpoint where they stood, there's little to see.

Just as I've located where my ancestors lived, so too have I found many of the places where they are buried. I find it particularly sad that so many are resting in unmarked graves.

Not unnaturally, my research has led me to ponder the many things I've learned, to dabble in conjecture, and to arrive at some general conclusions about my ancestors, both individually and as a group.

Perhaps the most notable characteristic of my ancestors is that they were an especially restless group of people. Seemingly discontented and obviously hoping for a better life elsewhere, they gradually migrated west during the Nineteenth century. Of course this was not unique. So did thousands of their contemporaries. Originating in Virginia and the Carolinas, they migrated to Tennesee, Georgia, Alabama, and Arkansas. Finally, they came to Texas, some making the journey before the Civil War, others afterward. But even after arriving at this westernmost terminus, they seem to have found it difficult to stay put, often moving from county to county within the state.

It is also a characteristic of most of my ancestors that, so far as it is known, only a very few ever achieved any lasting material success or became prominent members of the communities in which they lived - a result no doubt (at least in part), of the rootlessness which seems to have plagued them. Certainly, there were some who achieved a measure of economic success during their lifetimes, but there were more who, in the long run, did not the happiness and abundance they surely sought remaining out of reach. Only one, my great-great grandfather Harrison Tate, ever held public office. He was both a county sheriff and a judge. His father-in-law, Neil Strahan of Meriwether County, Georgia, was probably the wealthiest of my ancestors, if the large number of negro slaves Strahan held before the Civil War is any indicator. But both these men were exceptions - and both, it should be pointed out, never left the same general area in which they spent their adult years. I'm also convinced that another factor contributing to this general lack of material success is the number of untimely tragedies which seem to have plagued my ancestors calamities for which no individual person can be blamed.

The Butler family is a case in point. During the late 1850's, two years after settling in Freestone County, Texas, Alfred and Mary Butler were able to purchase a one-hundred acre farm on the outskirts of Fairfield - at a time when the region in which they lived was enjoying unprecedented prosperity. No doubt growing cotton on the acreage he owned (the surest way to riches in the antebellum South), Alfred Butler seems to have aspired to rising above his station in life as a humble carpenter.

But, no sooner had he began than Alfred Butler died. He was only thirty-six years old and his death could not have been more untimely. Not only was his wife deprived of her husband and his children of their father but within months of his death, the Civil War began.

Throughout the War and during Reconstruction, Mary Butler struggled to raise her young children and to run the family farm. In the end it was too much for her. In 1873, in the face of mounting debt, she was forced to sell her property for $200 less than the amount she and Alfred had paid for it in 1856.

I can't help but think that my great-grandfather, Will Butler, was especially affected by the loss of his father at the age of four and at the age of seventeen, by the loss of the only home he had ever known. Throughout his life he struggled to make a living, first as a tenant farmer and later as a carpenter. After the untimely death of his wife in 1892, it seems as if he simply gave up on life. Moving from one address to another, first in Denison, then in Dallas, by 1910 Will had become a resident of the Dallas County Poor Farm. There, he died at "the age of fifty-four, a sick old man, no doubt tired of life and embittered by the bad hand it had dealt him.

Will's only son, my grandfather Herman Butler, appears never to have aspired to anything better than the working-poor life he'd always known, although Herman did acquire some property - a small lot in East Dallas where he built the house in which my father was born in 1927.

Even today, the descendants of Alfred Butler, myself included, continue to struggle to overcome the economic disadvantages thrust upon us by our heritage. Thankfully, through our own efforts, most of us seem to have at least risen to join the ranks of the middle-class. We should be proud. Certainly, one thing no one can say is about the Butler family is that any of us was born with a silver spoon in his or her mouth.

I do not consider this book the stopping point in my quest to learn my family's history. It is merely a pause. As I've already declared, there is still much more to be done and my goal, as previously pointed out, is to trace my family's "roots" back to the first of my Butler ancestors who came to this continent. I even have a title in mind for my next book: A Home in America. Hopefully, now that I'm more experienced than I was twenty years ago, it won't take as long to do the research it may require.

In the meantime, I hope that everyone who reads this book, A Home in Texas, enjoys it and learns something from it. I know I have learned a great deal as a result of writing it most importantly that a strong, loving family who stay together and support and sustain the family's individual members is one of life's most precious treasures, but that without this valuable asset, life can be difficult.

I also hope that this book inspires its readers to take the time to make some record of their own lives, so that their descendants won't have to work as hard as I have done to find out about my ancestors. Too often, people consider their lives to be ordinary and take for granted the times in which they live, not realizing that their descendants living in the future may actually find them interesting!

Finally, I want to acknowledge and thank those persons who have been particularly helpful in providing me, in recent years, with information about both past and present-day members of the family: my late aunt, Ruth Parsons; my father, Raymond Joe Butler; my aunt, Margaret Ficklin; and my cousin, Henry O. Butler, Jr. I also want to thank my cousin Martha Herndon for giving me the photograph of Isaac Tate which appears on page 114. Thanks are also due to my wife Anita for her patience as I ignored her for hours on end while typing this book and for years of putting up with the seeming eccentricities of a person obsessed with a hobby only other genealogists can fully understand.

Steven R. Butler
December, 1994


BIOGRAPHIES INDEX


This website copyright © 1996-2011 by Steven R. Butler, Ph.D. All rights reserved.