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MRS. MARTHA ELLEN DEVAN,
PIONEER.
(Florida)
We met on the crossing at Main an Adams
Street on a busy Saturday afternoon. She saw me first, she on the inside
and I on the outside of the busy traffic lane of shoppers, and pushing her
way through, clasped my hand and placed her arm around my shoulder in
happy greeting. I was glad to see my 74-year old friend, and as I noted
how strong and straight and tall she was, one glance at her face showed me
she was not in the best of health.
"How are you?" I questioned, as I turned and arm an arm we made our way to
the Andrew Jackson Hotel corner, where as the crowd surged around us at
this busy point, we stood and held a reunion, for I had missed her for
some weeks form our usual haunts.
"Not so good," she replied. "I have been down to John's in Miami for three
months, and while there I had my teeth out at his insistence, as they were
in bad condition - the dentist said I should have done this years ago, and
that it will be some time before the poison gets out of my system."
I remarked on the apparent good fit and natural appearance of her "store
teeth", as she called them, and inquired about John and his family.
John Devan was reared in Jacksonville, studied law, and in the 1920's
became Probate Judge of Duval County. His friends were legion, but in his
mother's opinion "John was too popular. He drew a good salary, but looked
like he could never get ahead financially." So, then there was a splendid
opening with a well known law firm in Miami, he removed with his family,
to the southern metropolis of Florida eight years ago. Reports came back
to Jacksonville of his advancement in his profession, of his apparent
prosperity, with rumors he would be a candidate for governor of Florida in
the 1940 election.
"Oh, they are all fine. The children are in college, the two older ones,
the younger in Junior High, and John is so busy we always had to catch him
on the run to talk with him. He is in politics up to his eyebrows, but it
does not make any difference what you hear to the contrary, John is a good
boy - he'll be able to take care of himself. (John is 55 years of age, but
is still a "boy" to his doting mother).
"Yes, he is smart, and while politics is a treacherous game, even for the
most experienced, John's many friends in Jacksonville are not uneasy, and
will all support him if he decides to come out as a candidate for the
highest office the State can bestow," I answered.
"I enjoyed Miami. John has a new home near Miami Beach, and in his plans
he had a room built especially for me, with some of my old furniture
installed - a bed and dresser, and the chair in which I used to rock him
to sleep, so I always feel at home. Yes, John is a good boy. He's been
raised right - you know people have to have principles to live and labor
by - and John is well balanced."
"Are you living alone in your home here?" I asked
"Oh, no. I'm never alone. I have the best children in the world, and while
none of them are living here right now, when I am in the old house, there
is always some of the grandchildren. Louise came down from South Carolina,
the day before I arrived, and had everything in order when I came in last
Sunday evening.
"I'll have to be on my way now, as I still have some groceries to get for
tomorrow's dinner - my car is parked up by the Courthouse, where I've had
a special spot reserved for years.
"Did you say you had some tickets for the moving picture to be sponsored
by the Eastern Star Chapter next week? Well, give me about ten. I'll go
through John's old office when I come down Monday to see about my taxes -
most of the old employees who used to work for him are still there. I'll
romp all over them and sell every one of those tickets before I leave."
She laughed slyly in reminiscence at the good nature of John's old office
help, and the readiness with which they purchased tickets for benefits,
balls, and other entertainments she is interested in - her Church
affiliations, her Eastern Star Chapter, her [???] Chapter in all of which
she is an active participant and supporter.
"If you'll be down on the Courthouse steps on the north side Monday at 2
o'clock, I'll pick you up and we'll go home and have a nice visit." And
thus we parted.
You may be sure that I was there at 2 p. m. on the appointed spot, and so
was Mrs. Devan, for she is a business woman, with neither time nor words
to squander.
Her business transacted, here she came, her eyes bright and sparkling.
"You do not wear glasses, do you, Mrs. Devan."
"No, not when I'm traipsing around like this. I don't need them. John used
to say - 'Mother, I do believe you can see from here to Texas!' (John is
evidently the favorite of her five children). Of course, I have a pair of
reading glasses in my purse, if I have to sign papers or any emergency
comes up that I need to read something. But glasses are not necessary for
what I do mostly now."
"What is that?"
"Remembering! Just remembering!"
By this time we are in the car, not a new model, but a good one and in
good condition. She swung it around, made for Duval Street, and straight
across the viaduct to her home on East Church Street in East Jacksonville.
"All this part of town is so dear to me. You know about ten years ago, my
children thought I should move over into the Riverside section. We owned
some property on Park-Street, and nothing would do but for me to move into
it. I did, even transferred my membership form the Fairfield Methodist
Church, where our family had attended so long and joined the Riverside
Park Methodist Church. But I never felt at home - there were so many
strangers, and I missed my old friends and neighbors. So after three
years, I came back over here."
By this time we had arrived; she had steered the car into the driveway. It
was a big old rambling house, with wide porches, two lovely magnolia trees
which had grown up with the neighborhood - on either side of the old
fashioned brick walk to the front steps - vines, trellises with roses,
beds of azaleas - a magnificent wisteria forty years old covering the
posts of the porch had reached out to the liveoak tree at the corner, and
one could picture the heavy purple blooms in the early spring and summer
among the glossy leaves and the gray strands of Spanish moss.
The front door, with its frame outlined with squares of colored glass -
blue, red, amber - of a period in vogue fifty years ago, opened as if by
magic, and a smiling colored girl, neatly dressed in a black house dress
with white lawn apron and a maid's cap with a black ribbon band, bade us
"Come in."
"This is Martha Ellen," said Mrs. Devan.
"Named after you?" I queried.
"I suah was," said Martha Ellen, "and I think it's the purtiest name in
the world. I belongs to the family, tho' my last name's Dawson."
Mrs. Devan did not seem to be at all embarrassed at this joining in the
conversation by the maid, and laughingly said - "Martha Ellen is
granddaughter of the Martha we brought from South Carolina, when Mr. Devan
and I came down here from our native State in 1890."
The entrance hall opened into a comfortable living-room, well furnished, a
worn rug on the floor, the furniture of food substantial walnut, the
comfortable rocking chairs with their high curved backs, the home made
cushions, all bespoke an intelligent effort to combine good selections
with lasting qualities to make a room that could be lived in by home
folks, as well as visitors. The October sun came through the long south
and west windows, with their draperies of starched scrim and bright
flosered chintz.
The rocker by the low walnut table with its lamp and a basket with sewing
material looked as if it might be the favorite resting spot of Mrs. Devan,
and as I hesitated on being asked to sit down, sure enough she went
directly to this rocker, and as she seated herself she said:
"I feel I've grown up here, and my life history would really be the
history of Fairfield and its surroundings.
"I was born in Sardis, South Carolina, on October 11, 1864. I was the
youngest of a family of ten. My three older brothers served in the War
between the States, but my father and mother were gray-haired from the
time I could remember.
"We went through the usual vicissitudes of the Southerners of that secion
in War times, my father being to old to enter service, he staid at home
and kept on running the general store. My earliest recollections are of
playing around the porch in the front of the store, which was also the
post office, and of listening to the conversations of the neighbors and
the country folk as they came to purchase or to inquire for mail. You know
a general store carried everything, dry goods - as piece goods was
designated - buttons, thread, yarn - all the women crocheted and knitted,
especially gloves and stockings, as these articles could not be secured
then, since no factories manufactured them in those days. Then there were
the staple groceries - sugar, coffee, flour, etc. The country people
brought in butter, eggs, sidemeat, hams, bacon, dried apples, pours,
peaches, etc., and traded these - a peculiar system of 'to have and have
not.' They all had accounts at the store, and my father's accounts of
charge and credit were most interesting. A quarter of beef, $5.00; a
mutton, $1.75; a bushel of dried peaches, 50¢; 3 yards of homespun jeans -
(this was much in demand for the making of men's suits, and women made
them, too, by the way) - $2.50 per yard; 10 dozen fresh eggs at 10¢ per
dozen; honey 5¢ per pound. There were no canned vegetables and fruits,
like we can buy now, and there was no home canning. Preserving of fruits -
pears, peaches, plums, apples, by cooking them thoroughly in honey and
placing in three gallon jars or churns of stone-ware - was the only means
of carrying these over for winter use. Our food was all fresh and of good
quality. We had plenty of good fresh milk, buttermilk, meats, and fresh
vegetables in season. Our family was all strong and healthy. One of my
brothers was lost in the War, but the other two came back home in 1865.
"Of course, I do not remember much
about the Reconstruction period, but by the time I was fifteen family was
fairly prosperous and I was sent to the Columbia Female Academy, at
Columbia, S.C., to complete my education. There were no free schools. I
received my early training at home, and later attended a subscription
school or two of six months - schools where the teacher charged a dollar a
month per pupil, usually having twenty or so at a term.
"There were no co-eds in those days. The boys went away to college, to
Harvard and Yale, if the family could afford it, to Lexington to attend
Washington and Lee, or to Suwannee.
"We were especially trained in deportment at the Columbia Female Academy,
always made to remember we were ladies with bearing and manner
accordingly. A teacher was always with us, even when we went out for our
daily walks and exercise. There were about sixty young ladies when I
attended.
"We were taught music and painting, sewing - that is, fine sewing,
embroidering, and all sorts of handwork. Morning and evening there was
prayer or service, and of course on Sundays were went in a body to attend
services at the local Episcopal Church. We cultivated a taste for good
literature, the classics, poetry, novels, of established reputation, read
'The Scottish Chiefs,' Sir Walter Scott's books, Milton and Shakespeare.
"I finished school when I was eighteen, and later in the summer met Mr.
Edgar Charles DuBose at Timmonsville, S.C., and we were married a year
later.
"In 1890 we came to Florida with our three children, locating at
Hawthorne, a thriving railroad juntion in a section of Florida that was
just being opened up, and where Mr. Devan had purchased a large acreage.
"We brought Martha and John, our negro servants, from Timmonsville, but
they were not used to farm work, neither were we, so in 1894 we had an
opportunity to trade the farm and grove for a section of Fairfield, in
Jacksonville, and came here bringing Martha and John with us.
"On the corner of that next lot across the street, Mr. Devan established a
real estate office. As I had always kept my father's books at the store,
after I became a suitable age, it was only natural that I should help my
husband.
"Our family had by now increased to two boys and three girls. The first
year in Jacksonville, we lost our second son. There was plenty of work at
the house and the office, so we sent to Timmonsville for Martha and John's
two young daughters. One helped with the housework and children's care,
the other took care of the office, and ran the errands, Martha did the
cooking, and John took care of the horses and acted as coachman.
"Those were busy, happy years. We prospered. Several years later, we took
in a store at Oakland and Florida-ave., on a real estate deal, and I ran
the store. The children were away at school, so we did not need so many
horses, and I took John to help with the heavy work and to act as handyman
around the store. It was a busy life. We had 'notions' as they were called
- thread, buttons, hoods and eyes, dressmakers' findings - most of these
things out of style in this age of zippers and snappers - and I carried
some piece goods.
"Was the store ever held up?" I asked, recalling a brutal hold-up and
murder of the proprietor of a soft drink establishment in the same
neighborhood a year ago.
"Mercy, No! I never thought of such a thing. That was a nice neighborhood,
thirty years ago, the streetcars past the door, negroes lived all around,
in fact, they were some of my best customers, but they were working,
law-abiding residents, and it never entered my mind to be afraid.
"I usually took in around ten to fifteen dollars per day, as the women
would rather patronize me than take the long trip to town, as Jacksonville
was called.
"Yes, I am a firm believer in the Church and its influence. We joined the
Fairfield Methodist Church, which was near our home, and all of our
children attended the Sunday School and Church services from the time they
were little youngsters.
"I have always been a firm believer in Jacksonville. It has splendid
opportunities for everybody. My daughters are scattered - one with her
family in Washington, D. C., one in Daytona Beach, and one in West Palm
Beach, and a granddaughter married and living in Charleston. But all are
near enough that I can visit them when I feel like it, and we are to have
a grand Christmas home-coming this year - everybody will be here.
And so I left this friendly woman who had made a success of her life and
that of her five children, happy and contented in her declining years, but
not helpless, still active and interested in her church and other
organizations of which she is a member.
But a week later she did not arise at her usual hour. Martha Ellen coming
on duty at seven o'clock knocked softly on the bedroom door, and heard a
groan. She rushed in, and found Mrs. Devan had suffered a stroke. The
doctor was called, the children all came home, but "it is just a matter of
time," said the physician.
"If I can just last through Christmas!" Moaned Mrs. Devan. And she did.
All the neighbors knew of her wish, the married son and his family, the
three daughters and their families - all were there. The house was a bower
of flowrs and greenery, there was a fine Christmas tree, with presents for
all the family, for the old friends and neighbors, for old John and
Martha, for young Martha Ellen and her generation.
Friday morning Mrs. Devan passed away in her sleep, and on Sunday the
funeral was held in the Fairfield Methodist Church which she had attended
for forty years, where she had served, and willingly labored as its
affairs needed her cheering presence.
The preacher was a personal friend. Of the two hundred who crowded into
the church, most of them were her personal friends, and on the outside
were many more unable to enter the small auditorium.
In the front pew next to the piano were old John's young John, Martha,
Martha Ellen and Mary, and a young Negro music teacher, who had coached
the four in a hymn which had cheered Mrs. Devan in her hours of suffering
when they came to the house regularly in their spare time. At the close of
the funeral sermon, the preacher announced the group would sing, and as
the soft Negro voices carried through the church, with one of the girls
Mary playing the accompaniament - "He'll Understand and say - 'Well Done'
- there was not a dry eye among the audience. I asked one the of the
singers, "Did you know mrs. Devan?"
"Yes, Ma'am, I worked for Mrs. Devan, and my mammy and grandmamy before
me. I fus rec'lects playin in the sto' on Oakland and Florida Avenue.
What's I gwine to to now? I'se gwine home with Miss Bessie to Daytona
Beach in the mornin."
February 5, 1939.
Life History
Mrs. Martha Ellen Devan
1713 E. Church-st.,
Jacksonville,
Florida.
Rose Shepherd--Writer.
Text from: Library of
Congress, Manuscript Division, WPA Federal Writers' Project Collection
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