I know what you're thinking. "But Angela, you're not Jewish." This is true. But - now pay attention here - my dad's sister, Mary Milite married a man named Willard Randolph Newman. My uncle, Randy, is a descendant of Isidore Newman, who was a prominent figure in New Orleans back in the 1800's. Isidore's brother-in-law was Louis Newman and Louis is the one that I went to Port Gibson to find.
Tracing my family history has become a hobby of mine...okay, fine. It's an obsession. When I came across this family, it made me really sad. But it also brought to my attention, this little town called Port Gibson, which played a prominent part in the Civil War. Apparently, U.S. Grant declared that Port Gibson was 'too beautiful to burn' when he and his troops were occupying the town. That has now become their town motto.
I found this intriguing so I wanted to go. John is not as interested in this stuff as I am so he was very happy to find out that my mom wanted to go with me. I think he said something like, "Oh thank God!". But, props to my hubby - he was very cool about sending me on my way and wishing me and my mom a good time.
So, we were off. We stayed in Vicksburg, which will be discussed in another entry, because all Port Gibson had to offer were B&Bs and I'm not much of a B&B kind of gal. I much prefer a nice hotel. We got to Vicksburg on Friday evening about 10:00 pm and the next morning, bright and..about 10:00 am, we headed to Port Gibson, which is about 30 miles south of Vicksburg off Highway 61.
Port Gibson City Hall. This building is right in the middle of a neighborhood.
One of our first stops was Greenwood Cemetery, mostly because we got lost. Hey! It happens to the best of us. This cemetery is really old. Well, sections of it are. This is one of the family plots that we saw. It's all fenced in. It was so quiet and peaceful here. The trees were enormous.
My mom found the 'Jones' family plot. Another fenced in section where generations of one family have been buried in the same place for years. Amazing. If you drive further out toward the back of the cemetery, you'll find the more recent burials. There are only a few trees back there. It's not quite the same.
The next place on the list was the Jewish cemetery. No, this is not it. We came to a dead end on a street and this is what was there. It looks like a tiny little house. If there hadn't been people out and about, I might have ventured in to look around. I would LOVE to have looked inside.
We found the Catholic cemetery which was right next to the little house shown above. But there was no place to park and we couldn't drive in the way we had at the Greenwood cemetery.
This house was directly across the street from the Jewish cemetery. I would have given my left arm to go in here as well but like I said, people were out and about.
In the middle of a neighborhood is this Jewish cemetery. It backs right up to the Catholic cemetery. This plot of land was bought by Louis Keifer, who is in my tree and two other prominent town citizens back in the early 1870's. Initially, I thought the fence was locked and that we wouldn't be able to go in. Then I tried the gate to the left of the sign and found it open so I went in. What was really bizarre is that on the right and the left of the cemetery gates (the house on the left was flush to the fence!) were private homes. It was very uncomfortable because I felt that people were staring at me.
This is the headstone for Louis T. Newman (1835 - 1903)
This is the stone for Louis' wife, Julia Keifer Newman (1841-1878). Back in 1878, the town of Port Gibson was hit with a wave of Yellow Fever. Julia and three of her children (Bernard, Corrine and Sidney) died within a week of one another. It was that tidbit of information that brought me to this town. Port Gibson was actually under quarantine for a few weeks during the epidemic.
This is the Gemiluth Chessed built in 1892 located on the appropriately named Church Street. I would love to have gone in but one thing I found about Port Gibson is that there is no parking in the whole blasted town. None! People must walk everywhere. And yet despite the fact that there was no where to park I did find that Church Street had quite a bit of traffic which made it very hard to stop and take pictures.
Across the street is the First Presbyterian Church which was built in 1859. It's the second oldest church in the southwest.
The steeple of the church is strange. At the top of the steeple is a gold hand pointing toward heaven.
On the lot right next to the First Presbyterian Church is this burnt out old building. The boxy structure on the left is actually a bathroom. The tall structure in the middle is the remains of a chimney. I wish I could have walked around in there just to see what was what but there was a sign that said keep out because it was dangerous.
Next stop, St. Joseph's Catholic Church, which appears to be undergoing some renovations.
Across the street from the Catholic Church is this house. I wanted so badly to go in but the door was boarded up and I didn't have the appropriate tools to pry it open.
Right next door to the Catholic Church is the Methodist Church. The original building, which was built in 1826 was destroyed by fire. This replacement building was built in 1860.
This town is full of B&Bs. This is one of them.
This is the Bernheimer Inn. Jacob Bernheimer and his family lived in this house back in the 1800's. The original house had been occupied by U.S. Grant as his headquarters. That structure burned and was replaced by the one above. It's now a B&B.
This is the Claiborne County Courthouse. It's a beautiful building.
As we were driving through downtown Port Gibson, I saw this old car wash. Too bad it wasn't still in operation. My car could have used a wash.
I think this is the Oak Plantation B&B. Very nice looking. I wish they were open for tours.
Our next visit was to a place called the Windsor ruins. It's not in the town proper but out in the woods. Along the way we found the Bethel Church which was established in 1830. How it survived the war is beyond me. It appeared to still have the original windows. Inside is an organ. I'm guessing it is still a functioning church.
Mom on the steps of the church.
The sign above the church. It really was out in the middle of the woods. It was very peaceful. There were historical markers describing how Grant's men came marching down the road in front of the church.
In our quest for the ruins, we came across this old house that mother nature appears to have taken over. It was covered by moss, which my mom swears is beautiful in the summer.
These are the Windsor Ruins. These columns are the only remains of what must have been a magnificent house. It was built in 1861 and survived the Civil War only to burn to the ground in 1890 when a guest dropped his cigarette into some debris left by carpenters who had been doing repairs on the third floor.
All of the floor plans were destroyed. This drawing was made by a Union soldier while his unit was camped out on the grounds of the house.
My mom standing between the base of two of the columns. The ruins are in the middle of the woods. Kind of weird to be out there all by yourself.
This is my mom being a goofball.
This was from the back of the property. We had the whole place to ourselves for a while. I had thought it might be packed full of tourists. It was really worth the trek out there. The ruins are beautiful. I only wish the house had survived.
This is the ironwork that was at the top of each of the columns. The detail is amazing.
One of the many civil war markers around the area describing what took place during that time.This particular sign describes the retreat of the Confederate Army in May of 1863 and the take over of the town by the Union Army the next day. It's amazing to me to know that just under 150 years ago there events were taking place right in this spot that would change the course of history.
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