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.
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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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