Thursday, November 14, 2013

The Story of Bartow Jones


And Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.”

    Matthew 8:20 ESV

   In the coldest darkest nights as I lie awake in those last moments before sleep overtakes me, with branches clawing at my windows to escape the endless winter wind I think of them. The lonely ones. The tent under the overpass, the single shoe by the highway, the tattered discarded sleeping bag on the edge of some forgotten road all speak of the desperate struggle of a person with nowhere to lay their head. 
   This is the story of one such person whose name comes drifting back to us in clouded fading memories. Always on the fringes leaving mostly questions and fewer answers we find the man Bartow Jones.
   His name came to me in a message on our facebook page from Susan Bowman. She asked us:

"Does anyone have any information about a man, possibly named Bartoe, in the 1950's that died under Oak Hill church, off of 18 going toward hwy 77? I would like to hear the story or any info". When asked about her interest in the man Susan wrote:
 "My mothers family use to have Williams Family Reunions there, and my Aunt had mentioned it, when I took a picture of the church. And told how he use to come to the 
reunions, and how he ate and went under the church to lie down, and he died. They never
 really knew if he was related, or a crasher."

   At the next regular meeting the question was brought up and discussed. One of our members MariAnn Pope took up the challenge. Over the following weeks a tale began to emerge from first-hand accounts, pictures, and local legend. The first person interviewed was Mr. Coy Bolton whose father was a founder of Oak Hill Baptist Church. Though the church is now inactive, Coy still tends the grounds and does what he can to take care of the sacred space his family helped create.









   Coy remembered Mr. Jones well and recounted the man living in this house for a time in the 1940's with a Mr. Chester Williams.
















The large two-story structure speaks of a level of affluence rare in the region during the 1940's particularly in rural Clay County. It was in a lean-to behind the house (shown below) that Mr. Jones took up residence for a short time:




Mr. Bolton remembered the man Bartow, and the story of his death but recounted that no such incident had ever occurred at Oak Hill. Although the church, like many in the area, had regular singings and dinners-on-the-grounds the construction of the church building made it extremely difficult to crawl beneath and therefore very unlikely that someone would've rested there after a meal.
   Not dismayed by this dead-end MariAnn pressed on with her search and after some questioning of locals was referred to two sisters who knew the man and his story well, Alene Welcher and Irma Wesley. Both confirmed that the incident had taken place but not at Oak Hill. The women explained that it was at Hatchett Creek Baptist Church that the man was found dead.



The front of Hatchett Creek Baptist Church 



Back of Hatchett Creek, note the large crawl space below.




 Wesley was there that day for the dinner-on-the-grounds and recalls seeing Bartow Jones, but staying mostly to herself, lost sight of him as everyone retired that evening into the church for the singing after the meal. Irma's cousin, Thompson Pitts (former preacher at Hatchet Creek), provided some insight saying that Bartow Jones had in fact died that day under the church at the all day singing and dinner. When found, Bartow was taken to a local doctor in the area who explained that the man had "ate so much it killed him". 
   Whether that was the actual diagnosis given  or simply hearsay, we know today that it is extremely unlikely that Mr. Jones "ate so much it killed him" although he was known throughout the community to frequent any event that offered free food. The possibility of any man eating himself to death is unrealistic. 
    Most who remember him recall he would eat as much as possible not knowing where or when his next meal would come. It is likely that Bartow died from any number of conditions that commonly effect the homeless from infection, food or water-born illness, or   internal wounds from some previous injury.
   We may never know what ended his life but his story stays with us. Woven now into the ever growing layers of urban legend and myth. His story reminds us of the fragility of life and the shared experience we have as we step out each day to make a living knowing that we too, like countless others, face the dangers of losing all that we hold dear. Bartow Jones inspires us to never take for granted all of the simple luxuries in life; a warm meal, conversation with loved ones, a roof above to keep out the rain. In his story and countless others we see ourselves no better no worse; all of us people with our own stories to tell.

For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me.
    Matthew 25:35

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