SILVER THREADS

 

Written and Published Online by John Silver

w/contributing articles by various Silver cousins

 

 

Dear Cousins and Friends,

 

Summer is about over and the fall weather is here. It has been cool here in Delaware for the past few days. It has been a welcome change after this summer’s terrific heat and drought.

Thank all of you for your patience and understanding for my long bout with the shingles. The blisters and lesions are about dry but the doctor assures me that the pain will remain for some time.

My many thanks to Johnny Harris, Jack Silver and Norma Westall for coming to my aid. They have done a marvelous job.  Silver Threads will live on!!

Cousin John

 

 

[I ran across this article when I was searching my files for another article. I have never printed it before. It is very interesting and informative. I think you will enjoy it. Norma Westall has done a mountain of research and this is some of her best work.  Ed.]

 

210 Hillside Drive
Burnsville, NC 28714-3208
February 12, 1999

Dear John,

When Wanda (Silver Ball) and I were talking on the phone a day or two ago, I told her that you might like to read the newspaper article written by Monroe Thomas (if you haven’t already) years ago about the reason Frankie killed Charlie (entirely different from anything anyone else but Monroe and my great-grandfather, Reverend Edmund Drury Silver, has come up with or that I’ve heard or read). Wanda said a lady by the name of Joyce Moore sent the article to her years ago, telling her that it was found in the billfold of an elderly man who had died.

When Wanda and I met after I began attending the Silver Family Reunions in 1981, she heard me tell what my father, Shelby Gilroy Hall, had told my six siblings and me as we were growing up at our home in Micaville, NC, about why Frankie killed Charlie. When she received in the mail that article Monroe Thomas had written, she sent me a copy of it, for it was identical to what she heard me tell those whom I met at the Silver Family Reunions that I had grown up being told by my father.

Today, during the question-and-answer session Wayne has for North Carolina school children, who come on school busses from different schools in the state to Kona Baptist Church on their North Carolina History Class field trips, when Wayne asks me to give my opinion, I tell the students that Charlie was not the bad man authors try to make readers of their books believe he was, and I explain why I believe that.

I tell them that my great-grandfather, Rev. Edmund Drury Silver, although born after Charlie was killed, grew up in the household that Charlie grew up in, with brothers and sisters who were Charlie’s half-brothers and half-sisters, their father having been Reverend Jacob Silver, and their mother, Nancy Reed Silver, Charlie’s step-mother, after his own mother, Elizabeth Wilson, died when Charlie was born. My great-grandfather, Edmund, I tell the school children, was where he heard his siblings and parents reminisce about how hard working Charlie was and how good he was to his wife, Frankie, and how he adored their baby daughter, Nancy. Edmund also knew from what he heard that his siblings say, that Charlie was not a drinking man, nor was he unfaithful to Frankie. Reverend Jacob, a strict Baptist Minister, would not have stood for his oldest son (nor his other sons either) to have been guilty of the likes.

After Edmund met and married Arzilla Emaline Payne from the town of Milligan College, in Carter County, Tennessee, they lived in Carter County until all their children were born. One son, Nathaniel “Nat”, was born in Washington County, but all the others were born in Carter County.  Another son, Isaac, only lived a short while after he was born.

Edmund, Emaline and their family moved to the Blue Rock Community of Yancey County, North Carolina. Blue Rock is named for the huge cliff of blue rock high in the hills above the community. That cliff was part of a fifty-acre tract of land which my husband, Phillip, and I owned in partnership with

His former boss, the now late Hugh Dobbin, owner of the Fortner Insurance Agency in Spruce Pine, with offices also in Newland, Avery County, NC and Burnsville, Yancey County (the Burnsville business of which Phillip was half owner until his retirement in 1990, when he sold his half to Mr. Dobbin. Last year, at Mrs. Dobbin’s request, we sold the Blue Rock acreage to three Young brothers, who grew up in the area.

After Edmund’s and Emaline’s children were grown, married and living in homes of their own, Edmund decided that he and Emaline should move to the West. Emaline, however, refused to leave their home in Blue Rock, which was near the homes of their children and their grandchildren, who had been born to some of their children and their spouses.

Emaline’s refusal to go with him did not deter Edmund from his plan though. He went on to the West and eventually settled in Grouse Flats, Oregon, where he lived for a number of years. He and Emaline corresponded for a long time for they were both literate; however, as the years passed with no sign that Edmund was ever going to return to Blue Rock, Emaline was heartbroken. She could not understand why he wanted to live away from her, their children, grandchildren and his family in the Kona Community of Mo Mitchell County, NC, so she quit writing to Edmund and his letters to her ceased also.

There was one person with whom he kept corresponding, however, his brother, Colonel Sam Silver. Edmund wrote to Sam with such glowing terms of life in Oregon, Sam moved to Oregon with his third wife and family and lived out the rest his life there. Sam’s death and burial in 1922 in Troy, Oregon.

From the time his grandfather Edmund left for the West, my father, Shelby, spent every evening and night of his boyhood at the home of his grandmother Emaline’s home with her in Blue Rock. His mother, Nancy “Nanny” Silver Hall, was Edmund and Emaline’s daughter, and she and Shelby’s father, John L. Hall, would send their son over the hills from their home in the Hall’s Chapel Community (named for John L. Hall) to Emaline’s home in Blue Rock every evening so that Emaline would not be alone at night.

During the evening hours before time to go to bed, Emaline would tell her grandson about her days in Carter County, TN, as she grew up. He learned that she was the “Belle of the ball” at the social functions she attended as a teenager. She also told him how she had been friends from the time she was small with the Taylor brothers. Both Robert “Bob” and Alfred “Alf” had grown up to be Governors of Tennessee in different terms of office. Daddy did not explain this to us, his children, when he was telling us about the Taylor brothers when I was a child, that one was a Republican and the other a Democrat (we would not have understood anyway). After I met our cousin, “Nat” Payne in recent years for the first time, he brought me written information about how the Taylor brothers took turns being Governor of Tennessee depending on who got the most votes.

When Emaline rand out of Carter County, Tennessee tales, after telling her grandson about the Taylor brothers and that she had named his mother Nancy “Nannie,” after the Taylors by giving her the middle name of “Taylor.” she began telling him what his grandfather, Edmund, had told her through the years about his life in Kona as he grew up as the 12^th child in the family of Reverend Jacob and Nancy Reed Silver.

Of course, those stories Edmund told Emaline included the story of Frankie and Charlie, and how, at the age of 19, Charlie had lost his life, supposedly at the hands of 18-year-old Frankie.  I was amazed, however, when I started attending Silver Family reunions, and heard from the mouths of Charlie’s own people, the things that had been told about Charlie and written in the books about him. I wanted to say, “NO, you have it all wrong!” The more I have heard and read through the years, the more certain I am that greed did Charlie in, and greed gave Charlie a reputation that he did not deserve.

The greed of the Stewarts, who wanted to go west and become rich (they thought), but would not be able to do so without the money Charlie’s and Frankie’s cabin (and property) when sold before they left, would bring. Edmund did not say this but Monroe Thomas did. Both, however, thought Charlie was murdered in order to get rid of Charlie’s standing in the way of the Stewarts, including Frankie and little Nancy, going west.

Authors and those who sell their books, with their greed for the almighty dollar have given poor Charlie infamy, more so that Frankie’s. I so anticipated reading Sharyn McCrumb’s, The Ballad of Frankie Silver,” when Wayne told me she had left me an autographed copy at the Kona Baptist Church (her #13). When I read it though, I was so disappointed that she had given Frankie’s reason for killing Charlie that he was drunk and loading his gun to shoot little Nancy because she was crying. She could have thought of something better than that (if better is the word to use). No way could an 18-year-old, petite woman, as Frankie was purported to be, kill a man with a gun, by using an ax to kill him. And why bring little Nancy into it – the person he most loved?

Daddy said that Emaline told him that one day in Blue Rock, one of the neighbor women asked her if she knew that Edmund was back in Blue Rock. Of course, Emaline was very surprised to hear this. She had thought he would live out his life in Oregon, since he had been there so many years.

The woman went on to tell Emaline that Edmund was holding prayer meetings in different homes in the community in the evenings. Emaline found out which home the next prayer meeting would be held. Early that evening she got dressed in her best Sunday-go-to-meeting outfit, went to the home where the prayer meeting would be held, and was waiting to see Edmund when he arrived.

Edmund said later that Emaline was as pretty as the last time he had seen her years before, that night at the prayer meeting. As he conducted prayer meeting his eyes met Emaline’s often, and she did not take her eyes off Edmund. When the service was over, they left for home arm in arm, oblivious to everyone but each other.

In the time they had left together, they lived happily at Blue Rock. (Edmund and his neighbors formed a congregation, built the Blue Rock Church in which Edmund served as pastor. Ed) In 1910, Reverend Edmund heard of a land deal in the state of Florida and he went there to take advantage of it. Word came to Emaline that his horse had thrown him and that he had died in Hilliard, Florida. His body was brought back to Blue Rock to be buried in the cemetery beside his church. Emaline joined him there 16 years later in 1926.

How’s that for romance? I’ve written it exactly as my father told us. Edmund had told Emaline. Emaline had told Shelby, my father.

You’ll read in the copy of Monroe Thomas’ newspaper article. A copy of which Wanda said she will send you, that it didn’t happen the way Sharyn McCrumb and the other authors have it. Whoever killed Charlie decapitated him with an axe as he lay sleeping in front of the fireplace in his and Frankie’s cabin, tired out after a long, hard day out in the cold chopping wood in the forest. He borrowed his father’s wagon and mules to haul the wood back home. When he arrived home it began snowing about dusk, he stacked the wood in a pile beside by his and Frankie’s cabin, took the wagon and mules back to his father’s barn and walked back home through the snow. No one has seen fit to mention this when the mystery of Charlie’s disappearance is written about. He had not “gone to George Young’s to get his Christmas liquor.”

Cousin Norma

 

 

 

Memories of a departed Silver cousin

 

John Clarence Silver

 (1911 – 1999)

 

John Clarence Silver was the second child of David Alonzo and Zeney Norman Silver.         

He was a seventh generation descendant of George Silver Sr., our immigrant ancestor via his grandfathers, John, Alfred, Jacob, and George Jr.  Following are his memories as related to nephew John Silver Harris in 1989:        

I started school when I was six (1917) and we were living in Glen Alpine, Burke County, N.C. 

The reason we were living there was that my mother had typhoid fever and was in Grace Hospital at Morganton. So we rented a house from Will Pitts in Glen Alpine, so we could be close to Mama. My father would come down each weekend from Steele’s Creek, where he was sawmilling, to be with us.

I remember my father telling about the scare he had during one of his return trips to Ripshin from Glen Alpine. He had no transportation, so he had to walk to Oak Hill and then up what is now Highway 181, but was then just a dirt road.  Then he had to walk a trail up the mountain to the sawmill site.

By the time he reached the Lick Log site, it was dark and he was tired. So he decided to build a little fire, and sleep there until morning, before continuing his trip.

He was dozing peacefully and his fire had died down, when he was startled awake by a shrill scream in the darkness behind him. He raised up, pulled the pistol he carried in his pocket, and peered into the darkness, but could see nothing. He could hear what sounded like a varmint retreating into the underbrush.

He figured it was probably a wild cat or a panther. Although a bit unnerved by the experience, he nevertheless added more wood to his fire, and lay back down. He was again dozing and his fire had died down when he was again awakened by the same spine-tingling cat-cry. This time, he drew his pistol, and fired a couple shots into the air to scare it away.

Again he stoked his fire and resumed his attempt to sleep feeling satisfied that the shots had frightened the varmint away, and he’d have no more problems.

 But it happened again and again, each time the fire would die down, the cat would sneak up and let out its blood-curdling cry. Finally daylight came, and my father, still tired and sleepy after that harrowing night, continued his trek on to the sawmill camp.

I remember Papa telling another story about encountering a bear when he was a young boy, maybe 10 or 12 years old. Grandpa John (Silver) and several of Papa’s older brothers, maybe Will and Jake, were going bear hunting when they lived on Curtis Creek near Old Fort.

 Papa wanted to go with them, but they hadn’t planned on taking him since he was too young, and there was no rifle for him. But Papa insisted, so they borrowed an old muzzle-loading rifle from a neighbor, and did take Papa along. As they walked back into the rugged mountains, Papa got tired. So Grandpa John said: “Lonny, we’re going to leave you here in the gap of this ridge to rest until we get back. You may even be able to kill a turkey while you’re here.”

Papa hadn’t been there long before he was startled to see a big black bear come walking through the gap right in front of him. He took aim and fired. The bear staggered, but ran. 

Papa was afraid to go after the wounded bear, so he just stayed put until the others returned in about 2 or 3 hours. Papa then told them what had happened, so they put the dogs on the bear’s trail. About 200 yards away, they found the bear dead. Grandpa John and the brothers confirmed this report.

After living in Glen Alpine two years, we moved back to the Steele’s Creek area, living in “sawmill shacks,” small temporary houses built out of cull lumber.  When the job there was finished, we’d just abandon the house and move on.

The first year we moved back into the mountains, Lee (my older brother) and I were the only ones attending school --the others were too young. Lee and I would walk the railroad, crossing trestles and all, about a mile-and-a-half to a one-room school. I remember that Ellie Loven was one of the teachers.

When we got home from school every afternoon, it was our chore to cut the wood used to fire the tin heater in the house and for the cook stove in the kitchen.

My father worked for Dan Gurley, who worked for a Miller, who worked for Hutton & Burbonny Lumber Co. My father was the sawyer.

When the Steele’s Creek lumber cutting was completed in 1921, we moved to the Cozy Taylor place (behind Smyrna Baptist Church) instead of moving into a sawmill shack at the new site, which was Ripshin. Papa would go back and forth, coming home on weekends, often riding one of Gurley’s horses.

In 1921, I then started school in the two-room Joy School, which was located directly across from where Fairview Methodist Church is. We walked there each morning.

I remember once while attending school there that Ralph Cloer, Rob Patton, and I caught a flying squirrel. We took it into the classroom while the teacher was out and put it in a chalk box, the kind with the wooden lid that slide forwards and back, in a groove. Before putting the squirrel in the box, we gathered up all the chalk at the blackboard and returned it to the box so that when the teacher came in to write on the blackboard she’d have to get chalk from the box.

Everything went as planned. And when our teacher, Miss Addie Davis, opened the box, the squirrel flew out in her face. It startled her, much to our amusement. She knew some of us had done it, but she didn’t know who. 

I can remember only two other teachers at Joy School: Minnie Pitts, who later married Julius Cox, and Eula Powell.

It was while we lived at the Taylor place at Joy that we learned to swim and fish in Upper Creek. We’d catch sunfish, suckers, and catfish, and then, in later years, it was stocked with bass. We’d hunt squirrels, rabbits and partridges.

Papa and Mama were very strict with us kids. For instance, we weren’t allowed to fish on Sunday. But one Sunday afternoon, I sneaked down to Upper Creek behind the barn, dropped my baited line in, and whammo! I caught a big one. Then I realized I was in a predicament. I couldn’t take the fish home for Mama to cook because it was Sunday, and I’d be in trouble for having fished. But then I didn’t want to lose my prized fish either.

Finally, I figured it all out. I looped the line through the fish’s mouth and gill, put him back in the water alive, and then tied the line to a sapling on the creek bank. There I left it until Monday afternoon. “I think I’ll go down on the creek and do a little fishing,” I told Mama. I went down there, retrieved my fish, and brought it back for her to fry. Mission accomplished!

There was an old iron bridge over Upper Creek out past the church. I remember that Lee, Von Perry, and I once climbed to the top of the overhead trusses of that bridge. We were really up in this world until Eugene Perry came driving by, saw us, and chased us down, declaring that we could get killed if we fell off there --and I guess we could have, because the creek was hardly a foot deep down there and full of rocks. 

My father took the lumber up on the top of Table Rock to build the fire watch station there--probably about 1925. At the time, there was no road up there, just a trail. Papa got the contract to deliver a few hundred feet of lumber to build the shack where the watchman would stay. We took the lumber up in a mule-drawn wagon to the foot of the rock and then transferred it onto a sled to get it to the top of the rock. On the trip down, we had to tie a tree behind the wagon to keep it from running over the mules because the trail was so steep. Loy Beck was the first watchman to use the lookout shack up there.        

When my parents bought the old Cozy Taylor place, there was still an old store building there that had the old glass candy counters and other fixtures in it. My father talked about opening a store there, but never did. Finally, he converted into a barn. It washed away in the 1940 flood.

I saw the coming of the automobile into our lives. I remember the first car I ever saw--the one Earl Loven had at the old Loven’s Hotel (later called Cold Spring Lodge).

The first car in our immediate area was that of Frank Sanders, who ran a country store at Joy.

The first car in our family was in late 1924, when Papa bought a Model T Ford that Roby Whisnant had bought earlier that year, but couldn’t learn to drive, so he sold it to Papa. It was a Ford touring car--four doors, all open with no curtains or window glass.        

In 1926, Papa got a new touring car that had the gas tank right in front of the windshield. Everyone said that was dangerous, but we never had any problem with it.

Then in 1927, Papa bought a new Chev with roll-up window glass.

In 1928, I bought my first car --a 1926 Model T Ford roadster. It had no glass, but did have curtains. Grace (Perry, who would later become Clarence’s wife) and I would ride around in it. She would drive it too. I remember taking Grace back to Boone when she was attending college there (now Appalachian State University).

We had three flat tires going up, and I had four on the way back. Each time I had to take the tire off, find the leak, patch the tube, put it back on and pump it up. I thought we’d never get there, and then that I’d never get back!  I sold that car to brother Lee just before I left North Carolina to go to Philadelphia.        

Grace graduated from Morganton High School in 1930. She then attended Appalachian, where she completed a two-year teacher training course. Afterwards, while teaching, she attended summer schools, completing her junior year. She and I were married Feb. 29, 1936.       

My schooling was interrupted, but completed over a number of years. When I finished Joy grade school, I rode a bus to Morganton High, but dropped out a year before I was to graduate. I later finished my high school courses in night school at Central High School in Philadelphia. I went to classes three nights a week and it took me three years to finish.       

In 1929, the year of the great stock market crash, times were tough in Carolina, so I decided to seek work elsewhere. I had a friend, Ernest Beck, who had gone to Philadelphia and suggested that I’d also find work opportunity there.

When I first arrived in Philadelphia in 1929, I worked as a floor helper at Lankenau Hospital, but then transferred to the pharmacy, where I worked for eight years. Among my duties was delivering medicine to all the floors.         

In Philadelphia, I bought a new ‘32 Chev two-door coach for about $600. I remember it had a “free-wheeling” lever. Push it, and you could coast. They were later outlawed, but if you had a car with one already on it, you could keep it. I kept the ‘32 Chev until World War II, when I thought I was going to be drafted, so I sold it.

After eight years working at the hospital, I took a job with the Freihofer Baking Co., (about 1937), starting with a horse-and-wagon route delivering bread door-to-door. After I had worked with them for three or four years driving the horse-and-wagon, they switched to trucks, and I drove a truck route for the remainder of my employment there.

I could see then that the home delivery of bread would soon be on its way out, so I began to look for another line of work. In 1942, I got a job as motorman-conductor on a trolley car for the Philadelphia Transportation Co.       

At the time, each trolley had a conductor, who collected fares, and a motorman. We were trained to fill either role as needed. Later, the company dropped the second position, and as an “operator,” we did both the driving and the collecting.

In 1950, the city began retiring its trolleys. But there are still a few of them operating in the city today (1989). They work fine except for the delays when a truck or something is parked or stalled on the –-track then there’s no way to get around them.        

Next, I had an early run operating a subway train, working sometimes as motorman and sometimes as conductor. My run started at 4:40 a.m., when I took a train on a 20-mile run. My day's work was finished at noon.  During rush hours, I'd have eight cars on my train, and during the slow hours, it might just be two.        

The company later switched to buses, and I drove them.        

During World War II, I got a 1-A classification, and kept getting orders to report for service. But each time the company would intervene in my behalf, because of the dire need for motormen in the transportation system that was also vital to the war effort. That’s the only thing that kept me out of service.        

Brother Lee was in the Navy, serving on a destroyer escort. Wartime secrecy meant that any mention of where he was would be censored out of his letters. But he and I worked out a code, so that our family would know where he was. We gave each section of the map a name. So he might write: “Has Thomas been catching any fish lately?” that would tell me, for instance, that he was near England, which we had designated as “Thomas.”

I was with the transportation company 36 years and seven months before retiring on April 1, 1976.       

On one memorable occasion, Grace and I had an opportunity to meet a former President, Harry Truman. We were traveling through Missouri on our way back from California, and decided to visit the Truman Presidential Library in Independence, but unfortunately found it was closed when we got there. I told Grace I believed that Truman lived on the street we were on, and suggested we drive on a ways and see if we could see his house.        

Lo and behold, as we were driving along, we spotted the former President walking down the street, accompanied by a Secret Service man carrying a hand-held, two-way radio.

I pulled the car to a stop at the curb. Grace got out and approached Mr. Truman, saying: “Mr. President, I want to shake your hand.” We all shook hands, and he was very friendly and happy to chat with us. That was a memorable occasion for us. It’s not often that you get to have a friendly chat with a former U.S. president.           

 

(John Clarence Silver lived from April 30, 1911 until January 29, 1999. Grace Perry Silver, born March 29, 1911, lives with her daughter, Barbara Correll, and family in Yardley, Pa.)

 

 

I wrote Elizabeth “Liz” Silver Kenny to thank her for the picture accompanying this article. I received this letter in return:

Hi John,

     I guess I didn’t mention in my email when I sent you the photo that John Clarence is my father. Grace, my mother, who is 96 years old, lives with my twin sister in Yardley, Pennsylvania. My other sister, Elaine, lives outside Philadelphia in Coatesville and I live 60 miles north of Philadelphia. Johnny’s mother and my dad are brother and sister. Thanks again for running the article on my dad.

 

Best wishes,
Liz

 

Thank you again, Liz!
Cousin John (Ed.)

 

 

OBITUARIES

HAROLD BOWMAN
February 1, 1929 – August 7, 2007

 

 

Harold Floyd Bowman, 78, of Sawmills School Road, Granite Falls, died Tuesday, August 7, 2007, at Caldwell Hospice and Palliative Care.

He was born February 1, 1929, in Caldwell County to the late Cromer Ira and Pauline Hice Bowman. In addition to his parents, he was preceded in death by two brothers, Ira Cromer “Big Boy” Bowman and Aaron Bowman.

Mr. Bowman was a retired self-employed brick mason and was a United States Army veteran. He was a member of Mt. Zion Baptist Church.

Survivors include his wife, Mrs. Helen Woody Bowman of the home; three brothers, Jerry O. Bowman and wife Kathy, Terry W. Bowman and wife Teressia and Eddie Bowman and wife Stephanie, all of Granite Falls; a sister, Mrs. Faye B. McGee of Granite Falls; three step-sons, Bobby McMillon and wife Joyce, Larry McMillon and wife Vanessa and Keith McMillon, all of Lenoir.

Funeral services will be held Thursday, August 9, 2007, at 11 a.m. at Mt. Zion Baptist Church conducted by the Reverends Edd Warren and John Greene. The body will be placed in the church 30 minutes prior to the service. Interment will follow in the Church Cemetery.

The family will receive friends today from 7 to 8:30 p.m. at Greer-McElveen Funeral Home.

Serving as pallbearers will be Jake Duncan, Ervin Cannon, the Rev. J.B. Crouse, Roger McGee, Ben Sheffield, Dow Annas, Curtis Powell and David Powell.

Memorial contributions may be made to Caldwell Hospice and Palliative Care, 902 Kirkwood St., Lenoir, NC 28645, or Mt. Zion Baptist Church, 1787 Cajah Mountain Road, Hudson, NC 28638.

Online condolences may be left at www.greer-mcelveenfuneralhome.com.

Greer-McElveen Funeral Home and Crematory is in charge of arrangements.

(George Silver Sr. > George Silver Jr. > Greenberry Silver > Greenberry Woody Sr. > David Wardell Woody > Dewey Everett Woody > Helen Jane Woody m. Harold Floyd Bowman.)

(George Silver Sr. > George Silver Jr. > Henry Gilbert Silver > Rachel Silver m. Tommy Thomas > Henry M.C. Thomas > Elvie Thomas m. Dewey Everett Woody > Helen Jane Woody m. Harold Floyd Bowman.)

 

 

TROY MESSER
August 17, 1917 – July 28, 2007

 

Troy L. Messer, 89, of Marion, passed away Saturday, July 28, 2007, at Care Partners Solace Center in Asheville.

He was born August 17, 1917, in Haywood County to the late Walter David and Margaret Connor Messer.

Mr. Messer was a long time member of the First Baptist Church of Marion. He was a business owner and a founding member of the McDowell County Rescue Squad. Troy was an avid supporter of the local Senior Citizen Center and participated in the Senior Games at the local, state and national levels.

He leaves behind to cherish his memory his wife, Hilda Peters Messer of the home; three daughters, Deborah Messer Coffey and husband, Monte of Lenoir, Beverly Messer of Marion and Terry Messer Silver and husband Steve of Nebo; beloved grandchildren, Troy Matthew McFalls of Nebo, Katelan B. Coffey of Lenoir and Steven Andrew Silver of Nebo. He is also survived by a sister, Wilma Kaylor of Marion and numerous nieces and nephews.

A funeral service will be held today, July 31, at 11 a.m. at the First Baptist Church with Dr. Scott Hagaman officiating. Interment will be in McDowell Memorial Park.

The family received friends on Monday, July 30, 2007, from 5 to 7 p.m. at Westmoreland Funeral Home.

In lieu of flowers, memorials may be made to Care Partners Foundation, PO Box 25338, Asheville, NC, or McDowell County Rescue Squad, PO Box 833, Marion, NC 28752.

Westmoreland Funeral Home is assisting the family with arrangements. An online register is available under OBITUARIES at www.westmorelandfuneralhome.com.

(Can someone help me place this Silver Cousin with his branch of our Silver Tree? Ed.)

 

 

Tony Avery Silver
May 17, 1959 - September 22, 2007

Tony Avery Silver, age 48, of Old Fort, passed away Saturday, September 22, 2007 at his residence. A native of McDowell County, Tony was born May 17, 1959 to the late Carl Eugene Silver and Mary Ruth Lane Silver. He was a beloved brother, nephew and uncle and was retired from Collins-Aikman as a Fork Lift Operator.

Mr. Silver leaves behind to cherish his memory three brothers: Ronnie Silver of Old Fort, Donald Silver of McRae, GA, and Jack Silver of Marion; one sister, Linda Bradshaw of Old Fort and a number of nieces, nephews, aunts and cousins.

A funeral service will be held on Monday, September 24, 2007 at 2:00 PM in Westmoreland Chapel with Rev. Bill Tietje officiating. The family will receive friends from 1:00-2:00 PM one hour prior to the service in the funeral home. Interment will be in Bethlehem Community Cemetery. In lieu of flowers, memorials should be made to The Silver family c/o 62 Silverado Drive, Old Fort NC 28762.

(George Silver Sr. > George Silver Jr. > Jacob Silver > Alfred Leonard Silver > Jacob Leonard Silver > Grason Hicks Silver > George Avery Silver > Carl Eugene Silver > Tony Avery Silver.)