Documents can fill in details of lost family lore

It's rare to come across a person as beloved and respected as John Jordan Whiddon.

He served as an elected commissioner in Houston County, Ala., for 12 years, was a founder and trustee of the Dothan Bank and Trust, a deacon in his church, and a successful farmer who gave each of his children land as they became adults.

He dined at the governor's mansion and was a trusted adviser to the men who farmed small plots that skirted his massive land holdings.

He and his peers have all passed away, so those who still talk about him today are just repeating stories they've heard about what a good man he was. I clearly remember the day I interviewed his only surviving daughter about him. Emaline, who generally spoke of her "Papa" with pure reverence in her voice, related many stories about what a wonderful man he was. Then she quietly segued into a story about how he was arrested for murder when he was a young man. I recorded that interview 33 years ago and recently listened to it again. I could almost hear the shock in the silence, followed by a disbelieving "What?"

Emaline softened the story by relating that her father spent six months in jail awaiting trial, but he was found not guilty. Still, in the world of politics through which Whiddon successfully walked, something like this surely would not go unmentioned. Frankly, I pretty much wrote the story off to confusion or an over-active imagination (for which she was well-known).

Over the years I methodically worked back through Whiddon's life. I found not a whisper of scandal. But tucked in his father's 1887 probate file was an unexpected clue that opened the door to the whole story.

Documents showed that all of Whiddon's siblings in 1891 had put their land up as security when he was arrested and charged in Clay County, Ga., for the murder of a J. M. Holmes. Stunned, I sent a silent heaven-bound apology to Emaline for doubting her.

Actually, I got sort of a spooky, serendipitous feeling when I found the security deeds in Washington Whiddon's probate file. He had been dead for four years when the securities were filed with the court. Logically, the paperwork should have been in the county's deed files — they had nothing to do with Washington's estate. Apparently a distracted or incompetent clerk had misfiled the paperwork. So I silently thanked the long-deceased, incompetent clerk for putting the deeds where I would find them.

So I had evidence that there was a murder, a date of 1891, and a location that made sense. Whiddon lived on his family's plantation in Henry County, Ala., with the house overlooking the Chattahoochee River into Clay County.

But who was J. M. Holmes and why did Whiddon shoot him? Emaline had related that Holmes owed her father some money, and when he went to collect, someone else shot Holmes but blamed John Whiddon.

Through the Mormon Church microfilm catalog online at www.familysearch.org, I found the only court records available for that time period were the clerk's minutes. From the minutes, I learned that four men were arrested and charged with murdering Holmes. They were arrested in April 1891 and found guilty at a September trial. All were shipped off to serve life sentences.

The four accused demanded a new trial (because the verdict was "contrary to the evidence"), which the court granted. But the district attorney decided not to try the matter again. The defendants were released as free men.

But who shot Holmes and why? I visited the Clay County Superior Court and learned that the actual case files aren't there. I checked with the district attorney's office and was told that their files don't go back to the 1800s. I got the same story at the Clay County Sheriff's Office.

But at the Clay County Library I found 1891-92 copies of the weekly " County Chronicle," which gave a detailed account of the trial.

The details revealed that a woman who had been employed by John Whiddon on his Henry County farm left unexpectedly owing him money. She sent word that she was at the Holmes farm and that she would return to his employ if he would come get her.

Whiddon and three of his friends went to pick her up. The newspaper related in colorful detail how heated words were exchanged — words led to the use of deadly weapons — and Holmes was killed.

The evidence never showed which of the men actually fired the fatal shot, but it obviously wasn't Whiddon, who was on the ground scuffling with Holmes and amazingly wasn't shot himself by one of the 15 rounds fired.

Family lore can be fun and interesting or it can be as unbelievable as this one was. It can't always be substantiated or refuted, but it is important to try, especially when the lore is so out of sync with other proven facts about someone.

I don't know that John Whiddon is resting at peace any better with my genealogical discoveries, but certainly his descendants now have the full story.