Morris Franklyn Evans of Cattaraugus County New York

This is the elder sister of Morris Evans. Her name is Anna
Photo taken in Dover, New Hampshire circa 1908

As I was growing up, my father often reminded me that I could rely on my own inner strength, which, in his opinion, I inherited through my ancestors; particularly the ones from Wales.

Dad’s mother, Jessie, spoke the native tongue, Cymraeg. His grandfather, Morris, was the first generation American. I guess that makes me fourth generation away from “the old country”. My great-great grandparents, William and Anna Evans came to New York State about 1843, bringing two sons with them, John and William (Jr.). As far as I have been able to determine, they first settled in Schuyler, Herkimer county.

By the time Morris came along, April of 1852, his siblings, Thomas, David, Benjamin, and Mary had preceded him; after that, a younger sister, Elizabeth, known as Libby. Morris and Libby remained close all their lives.

Eventually, William and Anna moved to Cattaraugus county in western NY probably because of the railroad boom. They purchased and exchanged a great deal of land, speculating more than farming it.  They continued to speak and live in the Welsh ways.

As was common practice among his people, at the age of thirteen Morris was apprenticed out to learn a trade. His older sister, Mary, was married to a man who ran a cheese factory where Morris could have continued out his life as a cheese maker in familial job security. However, as an adult, Morris choose to become a carpenter and most of his life he worked in various aspects of the field; once, for the railroad building huge railroad bridges, especially the famous Kinzua bridge.

My Father's Mother

Mary Dean was proud of her sons. She had two little boys die to childhood illnesses that children recover from these days. But, she still had James, Oliver, and two-year-old Phillip. She was a fun loving, ambitious mother, often leaving the housework sit in order to enjoy life and teach her sons about the great wonderful, world beyond their small community of Kinzua, Pennsylvania. People marveled at her high energy and her ability to help and encourage others as well as raise her boys with integrity.
   
Springtime 1929, Mary wrote a letter to her friend Hazel who lived in Salamanca, NY about how much the rain had washed out the dirt roads, and how beautiful the heliotrope blooming. Mary also wasn’t feeling very good that spring.  Suffering from her monthly cramps, she tried to ride the waves of pain, until it was realized that something more serious was happening. 

Since the roads were impassable, Mary and her husband, Frank, took the train into Warren to get her to the hospital. Emergency surgery was performed first thing the following morning. They didn't do surgeries at night time back then. But, it was too late and too early.  Too late, in that her appendix had already burst and infection had set in.  Too early, in that Penicillin had not yet been invented. Jessie Mary Evans Deane died that day. I never met her, but I feel like she has been an ever constant presence in my life.