Pike County, Alabama, was unusually hot on 24 August 1858. Rebecca Jarrett McDonald was born blissfully unaware of the heat or the tumultuous times that would follow her birth.
Elijah and Martha McDonald rejoiced at the birth of Rebecca, convinced she hung the moon. Rebecca sucked in the August heat and exhaled with a howl. Elijah marveled as his daughter’s newborn flesh turned from blue to rosy pink; he later confided to Rebecca that it was his happiest moment in life. The proud parents congratulated themselves on producing the prettiest baby in Pike County.
Elijah, a Scotsman by descent, was fiercely proud of Rebecca, often boasting to friends and family that she walked and talked earlier than any child he had known. Martha, a descendant of a well-known colonial family, had often reminded Rebecca of the goodly heritage of her name; she was named in honor of beloved grandmothers, but she preferred the nickname “Becky.”
Becky became a big sister to baby William in 1859. Their young lives began with promise until the War Between the States intervened. It must have been frightening for the children to eavesdrop on passionate arguments about the impending war.
In 1861, Elijah penned a promise to join thousands of proud men fighting with a passion for the Southern cause. Four years later, tasting bitter defeat, Elijah was one of the thousands straggling home.
The family struggled to make sense of war, defeat, death, and devastation. During the war years, baby William became ill and died. The young family cried to God in grief and joy that Elijah was alive. Perhaps in a rush to bring life back to earth, Laura Belle was born nine months later, followed by Caleb Sappington McDonald in 1870.
Family tradition says Elijah wanted to move to a quiet place, away from the memories of war, disease, and death. His wife, Martha, was very ill; some say she was depressed and became ill. They may have been en route to Texas or Indian Territory when Martha died near Fort Smith, Arkansas.
Rebecca was thirteen years old at the time, according to family histories. Assuming the birthdate on her death certificate is correct, the move to Arkansas would have occurred in 1872. Rebecca married William Tillman Johnston on 11 January 1874 at the age of fifteen, four months, and eighteen days in Greenwood, Sebastian County, Arkansas. William Johnston passed away ten years later, leaving the 26-year-old Rebecca a very young widow with four young children.
Rebecca married William Anderson Miller two years after the death of her husband, Will Johnston. Bill Miller was a widower who also lost many of his children to the Yellow Fever that took his wife. His remaining children were unhappy about the marriage; two children were born to the union of Rebecca and Bill: Fannie Retha and my grandfather, Coy Clifton Miller.
Rebecca and her four young children lived with Bill and several of his children in a very small house in Sebastian County, Arkansas. It must have been chaos when Retha and Coy were born. No wonder they divorced. Thanks to Dorothy Miller, and her day in the courthouse, we learned that both Rebecca and Bill filed for divorce. No reason was given... but the divorce was granted. Rebecca signed a release on all of Bill’s property. He signed a release on Rebecca’s property. Researching Rebecca, memories surfaced from those who knew her:
Thanks to Retha Miller Looney, Rose Miller Vold, Betty Miller Francis, JoAnn Miller Eid, June McDonald, Retha Frisbie, Linda McDonald Miller, and Barbara Joan Tisher LeRoy for correspondence with memories of Rebecca.
Retha Miller Looney, Rebecca’s daughter, wrote to me in 1974:
My mother was thirteen when she and her parents came up the Arkansas River on a raft from Montgomery County, Alabama, to Fort Smith, Arkansas. My grandmother died on the way, and she is buried at Liberty Cemetery in Greenwood, Arkansas. My mother was taken in by the Johnston family when they first came to Greenwood. She married widower William Johnston and they had four children: Jennie D. Johnston Wright, Doscia B. Johnston McCord, Frank Tillman Johnston, and James “Jimmy” Johnston, who were my half-brothers and sisters. William Johnston died when the children were very small. Two years later, Mother married my father, widower William Anderson Miller. I was their first child, and your grandfather, Coy, was their second child. After my father died, she married a third time to Samuel House. After Sam House died, she came to live with me in Mena, Arkansas, until she died in 1938. She was buried at Liberty Cemetery in Greenwood, Arkansas, next to her first husband under the name House.
Linda McDonald Miller, Rebecca McDonald’s second-great-niece, shared the following insight: “Each story I have been told about Becky relates a very jolly person!”Nieces June McDonald and Retha Frisbie offer another glimpse into the life of Aunt Becky. Retha would have been about fourteen to sixteen years of age, and the period 1927–1929, when the following took place:
Retha Frisbie recalls going to visit Aunt Becky when she was a teenager. Her dad took her to Mena for a revival meeting, and she asked if June McDonald could come along (Oscar and Mary’s daughter). “My grandfather took both girls to Mena to stay with Aunt Becky during the meeting,” Retha recalls. “She was a tiny woman but jolly and teasing all the time. She let June and me do just about anything we wanted to do. Aunt Becky had a real good-looking male schoolteacher boarding with her at the time, so June decided she’d make him a really special dinner. She went out to the chicken coop, killed a chicken, and the two spent all day preparing a fancy dinner unbeknownst to the school teacher, who called shortly before the dinner hour to let Aunt Becky know that he wouldn’t be coming home for dinner that night. Aunt Becky had the most fun teasing June about that for a long time.”
A granddaughter, Betty Miller Francis, recalls fond memories of visiting her “Grandma House” in Arkansas:
I remember going to visit Grandma House (Rebecca) on vacation. It was before my mother (Ruby King) died when I was eight years old. We took a train to Board Camp. Uncle Jim (Judge Jim Looney) picked us up at the train depot around 5:00 P.M.in a touring car. The car was open on both sides with pull-downs to protect us from the rain. We drove out into the country, into the woods, to their house. Her husband, Sam House, must have had dementia, although I did not realize it until I was an adult. She had to care for him like he was a child.
Grandma House had a good sense of humor. She told crazy ghost stories. One of the stories I remember clearly. Back in the old days of horse and buggy, people rode along when they heard the panthers howling; the panthers were chasing them! They started going faster and faster and faster and faster—the panther was gaining ground! FASTER AND FASTER… FASTER AND FASTER!… THE PANTHER WAS CATCHING UP… AND THEY THREW THE BABY OUT TO THE PANTHER!
It scared the hell out of me!
I remember the very next day, we went out in the field to hoe cotton, heard a howl, dropped our hoes, and ran to the house as fast as we could go. Now that I think about it, it was probably a wildcat and not a panther. Do you think so?
I also remember being surprised that the adults ate their meals first. After the adults finished, the children sat down to eat. That was just backward from our house. After dinner, Grandma House would sit on the porch and smoke a cigar. I remember that as well.
When I go up in the mountains and smell pine in the fresh air, I am reminded of my visits to Grandma House. Once, she showed us how to chew the ends of pine twigs to create a “toothbrush.” She was a wonderful, loving grandma.
The role of education loomed large in adult discussions in Arkansas. Everybody talked about going to university. I supposed that to mean the university in Little Rock. Education was an important dream for the future of the Miller children.
Grandma House was a member of the Methodist Episcopal Church. Everybody was Methodist Episcopal. So was my grandpa, William Miller, Scots-Irish by descent. Many of the Miller brothers were ministers and farmers, but of course, they were dead before we came along.
I remember that we went to someone’s house, possibly the home of Ruby Little (Retha Looney’s stepdaughter). They had a stillborn baby. They could not afford to embalm the baby, so it laid on a table by the window for a Wake. That baby on the table affected me greatly; I can still see that baby in my mind.
Aunt Retha Looney married Uncle Jim Looney. He married and had two daughters, Mildred Looney Dowden and Ruby Little. Gertrude was Aunt Retha’s daughter in her first marriage. Jim and Retha Miller Looney were parents of two daughters: Eloise Embry and Helen Tisher.
I also remember going to see Aunt Doscia in Dallas. Oh! How I loved her. She was so good to my sisters, Rose (Miller Vold) and JoAnn (Miller Eid). She would make pallets for us to sleep on.
Rebecca Jarrett McDonald (Johnston Miller House) was survived by three of her six children. Jimmy Johnston, Coy Miller, and Retha Miller Looney lived decades beyond their mother. She was preceded in death by Doscia Johnston (Mrs. Fred McCord), Frank Tillman Johnston, and Jennie D. Johnston Blair Wright.
Rose (Mrs., E.G., Vold), Betty (Mrs. George Francis), and JoAnn (Mrs. Otto Eid) were the daughters of Coy Clifton Miller and his wife, Ruby Anna King Miller. Ruby died in 1932. After her death, the three girls moved from Ennis, Texas, to live with “Aunt Retha” and “Uncle Jim” Looney in Mena, Arkansas, for a year. The girls moved from Arkansas to Iowa and lived with their maternal grandparents. They did not get to see their Grandma' House again. She died in 1938.
“Grandma House” died long before my father, Ervin “Paul” Vold, captured the heart of her granddaughter, Rose Miller. I got to know her through delightful stories of her adventurous raft ride on the Arkansas River and her smoking a cigar or pipe and by looking at photos of the tiny woman with a giant-sized sense of humor who lived a very long life.
Family legends ascribe Rebecca’s longevity to spirit, spunk, and Southern courage. She aged with grace. I loved hearing the humorous, touching tales told to me by aunts, cousins, and a very old man in Rocky, Sims, Arkansas, in April of 2001. The man, purportedly a hundred years old, said: “Miss Becky? Why I do remember her. Yes, I certainly do. She was such a tiny lady driving such a big horse and buggy. She hitched up that horse and buggy and brought her eggs to Sims every Saturday. You could set the clock by Miss Becky’s buggy. She was just about the sweetest woman you could ever meet. She was a real fine lady.”
My favorite Grandma House legend came from my mother, Rose Vold:
Grandma House was a strong Southern woman. She lived through two major wars, the Depression, and tremendous change. She witnessed the discovery of electricity, the invention of gasoline-powered engines, automobiles, airplanes, and the empowerment and employment of women in politics and the workforce. Her strength of character and attitude helped her live to eighty years old. I will outlive her; I will live to two hundred!
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