JOHNSON

Joseph Henry Hardin Johnson

1870-1950

1^st marriage

Roxie Ann Atwood

1877-1902

2^nd marriage

Rebekah Elizabeth Ream

1885-1955

The following material comes from Barry Duane Miller’s autobiography and additional research I have done.

Most people knew my maternal grandfather, my mother’s father, as Joseph Henry Hardin Johnson. He was born in the town of Weatherford, Parker Co., Texas, on May 4, 1870. He was the 10^th of 12 (possibly 13) children of Richard Newman Johnson (1825 KY-after 1880 TX) and Rachel R. Manley (1832 KY-1877 Texas).

The family appears in the 1880 census as follows: 1880 Parker Co., TX census, pcts 6 & 8: Richard Johnson, widowed, 55 b. KY, farmer, parents bp KY; Mary 24 b. TX, both parents b. KY, Sarah E. 21, Georgia 18, Martha 17, Rodie 15, Phebia 14, Robert 12, Joseph 11, Alice B. 7, Rachael 3.

Joseph’s first wife was Roxie Atwood, born October 1877 in Texas, died in about 1902 in either Oklahoma or Texas. Joseph and Roxie had four children:

i. Walter H. 1893 Texas

ii. Cora L. 1896 Texas

iii. Eula R. 1899 Texas

iv. Fred E. 1902 Oklahoma

The family appears in the 1900 census as follows: 1900 Altus, Greer Co., OK census, Ancestry.com image 35: Henry Johnson 30, May 1870 TX KY KKY, married 10 years; Roxie 22, Oct 1877, 4 children, 3 living, TX GA GA; son Walter W. 7, Oct 1892 TX; dau Cora 4, Dec 1895 TX; dau Ula 2, Dec 1897.

His second wife, my maternal grandmother, was Rebekah Elizabeth Ream, born in the town of Crafton, Wise Co., Texas, on February 17, 1885. She was the second of seven children of Albert Edmond Ream (1861-1940) and Sarah Ann McClain (1860-1938). (see REAM)

Joseph and Rebekah were married on March 25, 1905, at Thailia, Foard Co., Texas.

They had 9 children, all born in Texas:

i. Bertha J. 1908

ii. Joseph Edward 1909

iii. Nellie A. 1911

iv. Samuel T. 1914

v. Simmeon R. 1915

vi. Evelyn Norena May b. 22 May 1918

vii. Alice T. b. 1919

The family appears in the census as follows:

1910 Wilbarger, TX census, p. 191A, Ancestry.com image 37: Joseph H. Johnson 39 2nd marriage 5 years TX MO, Rebekah E. 24, 4 children, 4 living; Maudie R. 4, Bertha I. 3, Joseph E. 1 6/12, Walter H. 17, Cora L. 14, Eula R. 11, Fred E. 8.

1920 Foard Co., TX census: Johnson, Joseph H., 49, b. TX, fr. b. KY, mr b. KY; Rebekah 33, b TX, fr b. TX, mr b. TX; Fred N. son 18, Maudie R. 14, Bertha J. 12, Joseph R. 11, Nellie A. 9, Sam T. 6, Simon R. 5, Evelyn N. 1 10/12, Alice T. 10 mos.

From Duane’s autobiography comes this description of his grandfather as he remembered him:

My grandpa Joseph Henry Hardin Johnson was long and thin with black hair and a mustache to match. A large western hat shaded his soft brown eyes. His boots had a shine reflecting the crease down each pant leg. Muscular and well developed, he sat a horse like a ranch worker. Confident almost to a swagger, his friends called him Dude. He loved to dance, enjoyed living. He was known to drink a beer, but stayed sober. From a family of thirteen children, there were two brothers, and each brother had eleven sisters. This is the way he would start to talk about his family. As a boy I would argue if there were thirteen, how could two brothers each have eleven sisters?

As a young man he had been a bronco buster, breaking horses for his living. For a while he worked as a line rider, living in a shack with one other rider. One night when they were asleep, a tornado or high wind blew off the roof and walls, destroying the shack. When they awoke, everything was gone. Joe married and had three children, but I have no record of his first wife who died. To feed his children he went to work for a horse trader from Crafton, Texas, named Albert Ream. Albert had a daughter Rebekah Elizabeth. Joe and Becky, my grandparents, were married March 25, 1905.

Grandpa looked younger than sixty-eight. His body was muscular, supporting a tall, slender frame, tight waisted. He had grown older without bending. He didn't have that wearied look.

His nickname fit. They called him Dude. That was when he broke horses for a living, a bronco buster, riding a horse like he was an extension of the horse. He came to work for a horse trader, Grandpa Ream. Grandma had gone to see a friend and as she was walking back, Grandpa was on his way to work in his wagon and gave her a ride home. Even though he was fifteen years older, she must have liked what she saw. He would always do things to make Grandma laugh. In my memory I still enjoy the man.

When he and Grandma married in 1905, they lived in a three-room dugout thirty miles from a neighbor. Some months the only person they saw was the owner. Grandma said she never saw a poorer looking man when he came to pay Grandpa, except that he wore the biggest diamond ring she had ever seen. It was about this time Grandpa was kicked by one of his mules. He had this knot or growth just below his kneecap on his left leg. Even today I couldn't cover it with both of my hands.

He loved a good story. He'd get carried away by one of his tall tales and he'd say, "Never let a little lie get in the way of a good story."

It was great when I got to go with Grandpa. With his guidance, I learned to drive the team of horses. There were days when I did this while Grandma used a pitchfork to pick up “cow pies” which we used to heat the house. Cow pies dried in the Texas sun turned the stove white hot. We used these because there was no wood in Palmer County.

In 1941, while we lived on the Blankenship place, Uncle Walter and Aunt Fanny came to visit. Walter was mother’s half brother. Grandpa had been married before, but his first wife had died, leaving Grandpa with three children, Walter, Cora, and Fred, Mother’s two half-brothers and half sister. Walter and Fred were too old for the military, but Cora joined the WACs. After Walter’s visit, Fred came, and his daughter Fredilene and I went swimming in the horse tank. I tripped over a pipe and went under. All I can remember is the green water. Uncle Fred was standing nearby and he pulled me out by my hair and saved my life. Convinced that Fred had saved my life, I've always been partial to him. He's always had my respect as a man.

Grandpa was still active at seventy-five, still able to do a head stand. My favorite thing he did was to imitate a lizard. Using only his hands, toes, and knees to touch the ground, he would move along a few inches off the ground, creeping like a lizard. He smoked Prince Albert tobacco in a brier pipe and enjoyed listening to Bob Willis play the fiddle. His favorite was "Cotton Eyed Joe." Hearing it, he would start to dance.

In the late spring of 1949, Grandpa was recovering from pneumonia. Grandma put an easy chair for him on the front porch. Every morning he went out to get the warm sunshine. The lady next door had four children and worked long hours, so the kids did whatever they wanted. Each morning Grandpa sat in his chair and the kids sprayed him with water. When school was out, I went to stay for the summer. The neighbor across the street had a black walnut tree, so I picked up a bucket of walnuts. Later, I pulled Grandpa’s chair around so the kids couldn’t see, and sat down. When I got sprayed, I bounced green walnuts off their heads. I kept the bucket of walnuts handy, and Grandpa got his sunshine without being sprayed.

On March 17, 1950, Mother got a phone call. Grandpa had lost his fight against pneumonia. He had succumbed -- his kindness, that soul, his moral nature -- gone. Grandpa died, passed away for infinite time without beginning or end. This young boy loved the old man. I thought of a long period that seemed endless, everlasting eternity. In my mind and heart, I immortalized the man. It was my first experience with death, and I wished very much for it to be the last. Forced to accept the fact, persuaded by the family and the group of people organizing Grandpa’s funeral, I tried to understand the teaching of the church. Jesus said, “All who believe in me will never die.” But Grandpa did!

At the funeral, Uncle Jake and Sam went with Grandma when she spoke her last words to Grandpa: “God bless your soul.” How nice to have been loved like that for 45 years! A line of mourners formed to show their respect, a line I have not seen matched or equaled. Old friends filed past, showing their high regard for this man, who in life had a keen sense of right and wrong, and adhered to the principles he considered important: God, family, and a good reputation.

In February 1955 I was called to the orderly room at Ft. Hood. The first sergeant handed me a telegram which read “Momma died.” It was sent by Mother so no one would know it was Grandma. I showed it to the sergeant, and was given an emergency seven-day leave to go to the funeral.

All Grandma’s pallbearers were her grandsons, except for Charles Smith, cousin Mildred’s husband. Grandma loved him like a grandson; she would have liked it. She now rests alongside her husband of forty-five years, the man she loved so much in life.

-- Any corrections, additions, and kind, constructive criticism are welcome. Full credit will be given for anything you submit. --