Our family came to Missouri in the 1880's and has been a mild, subdued influence on the outcome of most all historic events. By this I mean that, though the family has been in exsistence all these years, our line hasn't produced anyone famous or memorable to the general population. This should, by no means be viewed as an insult, nor should we believe that this tarnishes our good name. No, we merely need to look deeper into the past and it's day to day proceedings to realize that, though our name isn't a household word, our family has made it's mark in time.
Thus, my intention with this page is to give everyone the opportunity to share their favorite stories about their ancestor(s) and events that may have changed history. These stories won't always be true, nor will they be easily proved, or disproved. They're just stories, tales, and family legends, facts and fictions. They can be submitted to me and I'll transcribe them here as they're given, I won't do more than check the spelling and edit the "colorful content" as necessary to allow it's enjoyment by folks of all ages. I sincerely hope you enjoy this page and share it with your family members.
And so, we begin...
Lewis
Lunceford, was my great grandfather. He was born in 1888 on a farm somewhere
in Jackson Co., Mo. He was a bit "senile" when he came to live with us
in 1968. My dad worked as a carpenter and mom took care of us kids, 4 at
that time. "Grandpa Louie", as we called him, was a bit on the mean side.
He had a walking stick which he'd use against the shin bone of any one
of us boys that came too close, our sister could sit in his lap 'til the
cows came home.
Grandpa
was 81 years old the year he lived with us and he was still about 6'1"
tall. When asked what he wanted for supper his response was always the
same, "Cherry pie." Of course that wasn't all he got for dinner, he'd be
served a plate of food and, after finishing, would ask again for pie. He
was then given another plate of food, and after finishing that plate he
would get his pie.
He
loved to fish and we would take him to "Mirror Lake" near 40 Hiway and
Rt. 291 in Jackson Co. The lake has since become a housing addition with
homes that are valued in the $120,000 price range. We have a picture of
Grandpa standing by the front door of the house where we lived and he's
holding a stringer of catfish. In the picture one can see how
tall he was then.
When
he still lived at his home in Kansas City, we would go there to check on
him and to visit. Of course, for the preservation of our shins us boys
tended to play outside alot. On his front porch was a red, leather chair
with brass tacks around all the edges. It was a very large office chair
which none of us kids had the courage to try to sit in, it was Grandpa's
chair and he always had that cane. Inside the house there was a desk and
in the drawer was where Grandpa kept his tobacco. It was the black, plug
tobacco which was twisted into a stick of about 1" in diameter, then twisted
around itself and packaged in clear cellafane. Grandpa would open a package
and bite off about half the stick and put the rest back into the drawer,
I don't know if he ever chewed the other half because, it seemed, he always
opened a fresh one.
Grandpa
worked at Union Wire and Rope until his retirement and was well known by
his co-workers, I don't know if he was looked up to or, based on his temperment,
watched out for. He died in 1970.
These
are some of the things I remember about my great grandpa Louie.
This story has been given to account for one of the meanest members of our family here in Missouri, John H. Lunceford.
It's been said that there was on old uncle, John Lunceford, (possibly the one who rode with Mosby.) Old uncle John was mean and loved a good fight, and would come down from the mountains with the younger men and they'd all visit the tavern. At some point in the evening mean, old uncle John would start a fight and then throw the young John H. in the middle. If young John got tossed out, old John would throw him back. Thereby, making young John a pretty mean cuss, out of necessity. And the young John then became mean, old uncle John.
There may actually be merit to this story in the person of my "senile" great-grandfather, Lewis. In his final years of life he apparently thought his son, Lawrence, was the mean, old uncle John and would warn his young grandaughters to stay away from him. So, "Watch out for old uncle John, he's mean!"