On the northeast edge of Haynes Cemetery resides a rock-bordered family plot. Contained within are the headstones of Edmond Jones, his wife Louisa Durinda Flanagan, their son John T., his wife Martha, and their children Ludie, Wallace, and Sam. Also, there is the grave of Edmond’s brother Allen.
The Jones family came to Maury County in 1828 and settled on 445 acres just around the corner from Haynes on what is now the Smyrna Church Road. Edmond was eight years old when he journeyed from Robertson County with his 38 year-old mother Elizabeth Perry Jones and at least six siblings. Elizabeth purchased the farm for $1,820 from another widow Joannah Asher Dillehay of Defeated Creek, whose husband Edmond passed away the year before.
Joannah Asher Dillehay
The old Jones smokehouse which likely dates to 1828.
Edmond’s father John W. Jones evidently died before 1828. He was born in 1790 in Amelia County, Virginia and was only 15 when his own father Richard died soon after settling in Robertson County.
The Joneses trace back to the British Colonials who founded the Charles City Shire, one of the eight original Shires of Virginia. Edmond’s great-great-grandfather Peter Jones was born in 1634, the same year Charles City was established. The name of his father, one of the founders, is unknown.
The Virginia Colony
Edmond and Louisa had at least six children. Among them was John Thomas Jones who married Martha D. Beaty. Her parents were Thomas Houston and Delilah Pinkston Beaty. Thomas was a veteran of the War of 1812 and, along with his father-in-law Turner Pinkston, was an early settler of Maury County.
John Thomas and Martha had four children, Ludie, William Thomas “Willie,” Wallace, and Sam.
In the mid-1930s, Ludie, Wallace (a World War I veteran), and Sam lived in the big house on the hill. Both Wallace and Sam were divorced and Ludie was a spinster. They were in their early and mid-forties.
During this time, my widowed grandmother Bessie McCollum, my mother, and three of her siblings lived south of the Jones family, over the hill, on an adjoining farm. The Joneses were sweet, generous, and kind to the McCollums who had just lost their father to a logging accident.
My mother said, “I would walk slow past the Jones house on my way to Bryant Station School. I hoped one of them would see me and ask if I wanted a watermellon or cake or candy.” If Ludie, Sam, or Wallace saw a McCollum kid they were always quick to offer something good to eat.
Their generosity continued through to my generation. In his later years, Sam would drive up to old Squire Denton’s house to court my Aunt Lucille McCollum. My Aunt Lucille, her brother John Baxter, and her sisters Nan, and Octie rented the old house – which is now a showcase.
Squire Denton’s House
Whenever Sam saw me, he’d reach in his pocket and give me a shiney 50-cent piece. Looking back, I don’t know whether he was being kind or just trying to get rid of me – because Lucille and he would enter the parlor, close the sliding doors behind them, and sit and chat.
Sam was the last to die of the four Jones siblings, passing away in 1979 at the age of 83.
About ten years later, I was raising money for Auburn University and I was having dinner in Dothan, Alabama with a generous benefactor named Jake Jones. Like me, Jake is an avid bird hunter.
After dinner, Jake said, “You probably don’t care anything about this, but on the coffee table there is a scrapbook of photos from some of my hunts. There’s some great pictures of dogs at work.”
So, I picked up the scrapbook and thumbed through it. On the last page of the book, plastered behind a sheet of clear acetate, was a picture of a grand old gentleman sitting in an Audi. He wore a baby-blue house robe and a most familiar smile.
Shocked, I looked up from the picture and asked Jake, “Why, and how in the world, do you have a photograph of Sam Jones?”
He said, “He’s my first cousin, once removed! My grandaddy was his dad’s brother. I used to visit him every summer in Maury County!”
Well, we told Sam Jones stories for about an hour, then I said goodbye. About a week later, I received in the mail the photograph of Sam enclosed in a very nice picture frame.
A note accompanied the gift which read, “Thought you would like to have this picture of your old pal.”
Sam Beaty Jones
