My first experience of using court records to research my ancestors began in
Gibson County. Everyone was very helpful, and between the Gibson and Warren
County courthouse I copied approximately 200 pages of documents relating to my
ancestors. (Most of these documents related to the Hoppers, who have always
proven to be quite an interesting group.)  I had no idea of the kind of
genealogical information that can be found in a land deed.  Many times I could
not find probate records on an ancestor, but I would find a deed relating to
the land of a deceased ancestor that would enumerate all of his heirs. In one
case, the heirs had sent in their signature on a power of attorney, which
would indicate that they were living in a different county and or state.

In another instance, I found Civil War Military discharge information on a
probable ancestor including his age and physical appearances in the DEEDS
book, and there was no land even mentioned in the record.

Part of my purpose in writing was to encourage everyone, if you have not done
so, to not neglect to checkout the valuable documents that are available at
the courthouse. My second reason in writing was to share with you a wonderful
experience I had with two W.W.II Purple Hearters of Gibson County.

After the Gibson courthouse had closed at noon on Saturday, my husband and I
drove up from Trenton to an area between Dyer and Rutherford in an attempt to
find the graves of my great, great, great grandparents, Absolom C. and Olly B.
(Moore) Hopper.  I had directions to the "Hooper" cemetery from a map in a
Gibson County cemetery book, and knew that it was a small, three or four grave
plot on the site of their old farm.  Absolom had died in 1851.  I also knew
that when I got there that there would only be one stone (their grandson's)
marking the site.  Keeping this in mind, I had my doubts going in that I would
find the graves.  BUT since they were included in the local cemetery book, I
was hoping that I might simply find them by the side of the road in the corner
of someone's field.

We followed the map making about 3 turns on unmarked, paved and unpaved roads,
encircling the area where the graves should have been.  Upon realizing that we
probably would not find the graves, we drove into the Bobbitt Cemetery which
was adjacent to the area of our search.  As we were walking through the
cemetery, looking at the stones, a man pulled up in his pickup truck and asked
if he could help us find someone.  After I described the small plot that I was
looking for, he said he knew of such a plot back in the area where we had
been.  He asked us to wait for 10 minutes while he went to get his friend who
knew more about the location of the plot.  Before he had left we had exchanged
names, and his surname was one that my Olly's brother had married into.
Junior returned, after an unsuccessful search for his friend, Ray, and said
that he thought he could find the site.  BUT he said that there was a story
regarding the graves about two brothers who had shot each other.  I smiled and
said "That's them, that's the folks I'm looking for!" , and quickly told him I
was descended from the "good guy" in the shooting.

Let me tell you folks, that we would have NEVER found these graves without his
help.  We pulled down a gravel road and he pointed through a farmer's bean
field toward an island of trees amongst the beans.  We had to first climb
through a rather steep ditch to even get to the field, and I being the very
nonathletic type, turned to my husband and suggested that he go check out the
grove of trees for me.  Pretty soon, he yelled that he saw a tombstone.  After
helping to fetch me through the field and into the trees I had at last found
the burial site of my ancestors, and their outlaw brother, Dock Brown.  As I
said before, the site was only marked by one stone of their grandson, but it
was located upon the land where they had previously farmed and raised a
family.

I had inquired of Junior before we had gone to the graves if we were taking up
too much of his time, but he indicated that he didn't have much else to do,
spent much of his time visiting the cemeteries, and that he was enjoying
himself.  He seemed thoroughly tickled that I was a Hopper descendent and knew
the story or legend that he had heard growing up.  Before I left with my
husband to climb through the bean field, Junior said that he wanted to try to
find his friend Ray one more time, because he KNEW Ray would just love to talk
to me.

Sure enough, as we made our way back to the road after our visit to the
graves, Junior had returned with his friend Ray, who I learned had been a
writer for one of the local newspapers.  His surname was the same as the one
Olly's daughter had married into.  He was very interested in my family
history, etc., and Junior suggested that we all go back to his house to sit
and talk.  During the hour + that we visited, I learned that Ray had been the
previous owner of the "Hopper Chair", (this was the chair that Dr.Bone and
others had used to transport my fatally wounded Absolom back to the house in
1851.)  Ray said that he had had no use for the chair and had given it to a
member of the Bone family.  An article about the chair had been featured in
the book "Rutherford Revisited".  Ray even knew the location of the shooting,
but for lack of time, I was unable to visit that spot.

We had a thoroughly pleasant visit with these wonderful, retired
purplehearters.  They said that they had no trouble staying busy since their
retirement, but according to Ray they "didn't work up much of a sweat these
days."  As we started to depart, Junior gave me a hug, and Ray informed Junior
that there was no need for him (Junior) to take him home, because he was going
to have us take him home.  He said when we got in the car he wanted to show us
something, but he wasn't going to tell Junior because he would make fun of
him. (They had been poking fun at each other throughout the evening.)

When we arrived at Ray's house, he opened the trunk of his car and pulled out
a beautiful walking stick, that he had hand worked from the trunk of a
sassafras tree.  He handed me the stick and said that he wanted me to have it.
"Just don't tell anyone in town, though, because I usually sell them."  I
graciously accepted it, and gave him a hug, and told him how much we had
enjoyed our visit with him and Junior. We said our good-byes and promised to
stop by the Veteran's Memorial wall at the main cemetery in town (Dyer), that
he and Junior had been instrumental in procuring for the cemetery.

On our way out of town, we did stop by their beautiful and peaceful cemetery
that sits on a slight rise overlooking the town, and took pictures of their
impressive veteran's memorial.  I like visiting cemeteries anyway, but this
one seemed extra nice, and friendly, almost as if the grandparents, moms,
dads, sisters, brothers, and spouses were up there watching over their earthly
kin of Gibson County.

As we drove out of town on our way to the Nashville area, my husband remarked
that he would never have guessed that the afternoon would have unfolded as it
did, and that it must have been Providence that lead Junior to drive by that
afternoon.

Needless to say, this experience in Gibson County, along with other pleasant
folk that we met, left me with a deep regard and affection for Tennesseeans
and their lovely state.

You all take care!

Diane Hopmann