Chapter Ten (Part Two)

Biological Family

As you can imagine, piecing together the lives of two individuals who had been in a short and forbidden relationship has been a major challenge. For years, I knew nothing. Then, suddenly, the truth began to unravel, and it is still unraveling as I write this!

As the story unfolds, it will be easy to understand why I chose the page title; they both lived a mixed-up life separately, except for the brief time they were together. Meet June Rose Dugger, my biological mother (June), and Samuel Everett Stockwell, my biological father (Sam).

The first question you would probably ask is: Why was their relationship forbidden? June was 15 when she met Sam. She had led a troubled life as a young teen and (according to the 1950 census record) spent some time in the Girl's Industrial School, Correctional Institution in Delaware, Ohio. How she ended up there is uncertain. I was told she had been abused by a family member and rebelled. This, however, has not been confirmed, but was her story as she told it.

June had been staying with her aunt Mildred in Marion, Ohio, either before or after her time in the Institution. It's hard to understand exactly how June met Sam, but I'm living proof that they did! I'm fairly certain that she was "kicked out" of her home in Northern Ohio (either Bucyrus or Lorain) after the claims of abuse caused some serious problems in the family.

As her life was continuing to fall apart, June's mother (my grandmother Dugger) refused to allow June to return home with her child (me). Her mother had a warrant issued for my bio-dad's arrest if he returned to Ohio. Apparently, it worked; he was arrested, and June returned home with a baby and another one on the way.

A hearing was held with Social Services; June's parental rights were severed (at Grandma Dugger's insistence), and I was placed in foster care. Once Tom (Dean Everett Stockwell) was born, he was placed in the same foster home in LaGrange, Ohio. We remained in foster care until we were separated and adopted.

DUGGER FAMILY

I don't know much about the Dugger family except what I've been able to piece together using Google and Ancestry.com.

Unie Barger Dugger (1903-1962) and Clara Mae Scroggins (1903-1984) had eight children: Mildred Keoma Dugger (1924-1997), Dorothy Leona Dugger (1926-1997), Julie Mae Dugger (1927-1969), Unie Lee “Bud” Dugger (1929-1985), Nadie “Nettie” Edna Dugger (1931-2008), June Rose Dugger (1934-1987), Howard William Dugger (1936-1987), and Michael David Dugger (1942-2013). 

I assume, perhaps mistakenly, that at the time of my birth, they lived in Bucyrus, Ohio, but there are records of them being in Lorain not much later. That could be why the adoption happened in Lorain County, and the foster care home was in LaGrange (Lorain County).

My bio-mom told me that Grandma Dugger was the reason she lost custody of both me and Tom. She refused to raise illegitimate children since her daughter was mixed up in a forbidden relationship with a married man. I'm sure there was more to it, but that was the story she told. I'm hoping that one day the information from the social worker in charge of our removal from her custody will show up. (They're somewhere in the house along with other notes from my family research dated as far back as the late 1970's.)

June told me that my bio-dad was uninterested in claiming either me or Tom as his children and never signed the adoption papers. Tom was the third child he fathered but didn't want to be responsible for. To be honest, it hurts to even write that! As it turns out, he later had other children by other women who were not his wife and were given up for adoption. All along, he was having children with his wife and even raised a nephew as his own.

So, here's the list of June's children as far as we know: Mary Louise Stockwell [me] (1951-Living), Everett Dean Dugger (1952-2012), Paula (Angel) Mae Allen (1954-Living), Shayne Paulk Wallace (1956-Living), Charlie Henry McLemore Jr. (1958-2013), Sharon Denise McLemore (1959-Living), and Tamara Lynn Lackey (1967-Living).

As my memory continues to be stirred, there may be more to fill in on the Dugger family. All I know for certain is that June passed down some genes that caused real challenges in all our lives. Don't ever try to tell me that life choices cannot be genetic because my family is living proof!

STOCKWELL FAMILY

So ... Sam. What a tangled web he wove as he allowed his unbridled impulses to get him in trouble. Not once. Not twice. Not even three times. In fact, it would be difficult to determine just how many children he left behind when his needs usurped his morals, if he had any. I know that sounds harsh, but it's the truth. I cannot begin to imagine all his wife endured throughout their marriage; I wonder if she even knew the whole story.

Let's first talk about Sam's family starting with his dad, Samuel Isaac Stockwell (Sam-Sr). He was born in Framtown, WV, on May 26, 1892.

In 1917, he registered for military service as a coal miner in Braxton County, WV.

According to marriage records in WV, Sam's father (Samuel Isaac Stockwell) married Mary Dunlarry on October 28, 1919; no one has found anything else on his first wife but that she was born about 1896 in Braxton County, WV. It is assumed she died before the 1920 census was taken.

At the time of the 1920 census taken on January 8, 1920, he was reportedly 27 years old, single, and living as a boarder with the Boyce family. Coal mining is listed as his occupation at the time of the census.

When the 1930 census was taken on April 14, 1930, Sam-Sr was still single, working as a coal loader and boarding with the Conners family.

The next ten years were filled with love, joy, and a great amount of heartache. He married Josephine Hannah Henry, my bio- grandmother; Sam-Jr, my bio-dad, was the first of their five children. She had three more children which included Rosey Gale Stockwell, born prematurely and who passed when she was only 28 days old.

Their fifth child, only known as Baby Boy Stockwell died on the day he was born. Josephine tragically perished giving birth to him on February 19, 1935.

After she passed, Sam-Sr married Alma Beaver in 1936, a year after Josephine died. She remarried after Sam-Sr passed away to Roy Alvin Short. She lived in WV until her death in 1974.

Sam Senior died on September 16, 1947, in Ramsey, WV. From what I could tell, he worked in coal mines most of his life.

Alma, his wife at the time of his passing, applied for a military headstone. He is buried in Mount Zion United Methodist Church Cemetery in Ramsey, WV.

Interestingly, when I was searching for my bio-family, I tracked down some members of the Stockwell family in WV. I worked up the nerve to call and remember reaching Budgie Stockwell, Sam-Sr's brother. I tried to explain why I was calling, but once he realized who I was and what I wanted, he hung up the phone. I recall reaching another relative with the same result, but don't remember her name.

Shortly after these encounters, I felt God speaking to my heart that I should stop my search and He would bring my bio-family to me in His time. It was not the right time for me to be reunited. So, I packed away my notes and stopped my search until God came through, and the answers began to come like a flood.

My great-grandfather and grandmother on the Stockwell side of the family were James French Stockwell (1869-1923) and Sabina Rose Keener (1874-1923). They married on August 30, 1890 in Braxton County, WV.

Sabina (called "Rosana") died in 1923, having given French nine children; my grandfather (Sam-Sr) was their first child. Apparently they split ways and French married Ruth (Ruthie) L. Salisbury in 1911.

French and Ruth had (at least) seven children together. The ancestry records show three other children born before 1911, but I suspect, though I've not traced it, that they took in his sister's children, but that's just a guess. From the looks of the records, it's just another Stockwell tangled web.

I could go on forever with the Stockwell ancestry since I've traced it through a few more generations as it branched out to include great-great grandparents and more. But, let's change the focus to Sam, the bio-dad. I saved him for last only because it's another tangled web that I'm still not convinced we've uncovered all the mysteries of his life.

Bio-dad lived in Lorain, Ohio, at some point. When he moved there is uncertain; he was born in Perryopolis, Pennsylvania; his extended family was living in northern West Virginia, Akron, Ohio, and Ypsilanti, Michigan. His draft card (dated June 10, 1946) lists Drennen, Nicholas County, West Virginia, as his legal address when he turned 18.

There is a newspaper clipping dated September 18, 1947, indicating he was living in Beckley, WV. In September 1950, he married Gladys Rose Miller, age 16; Sam was 22 years old. Gladys was pregnant with my oldest half-sister, born on October 9, 1950.

It is not known if Sam's bride was aware he had another family in West Virginia. Somehow, he managed to keep his life in Akron and his life in Terra Alta separate; whether or not it was secret is unknown.

My half-sister told me she was told that Sam and Gladys decided they weren't ready for a child and gave her up for adoption. She has a faint memory of them checking on her well-being when she was a little older but, other than that, she doesn't have any memory of them.

Seven months later, I was born in Terra Alta, shortly before June's 17th birthday. According to the story told to me by the nurse who assisted the doctor who delivered me, Sam was by June's side during her labor and delivery. I was full-term, so it's obvious Sam had messed up! Further proof was that young June and mixed-up Sam found themselves expecting again very shortly after I was born. My full-brother, Tom, was born in Delaware County, Ohio, after a major upset in Sam's and June's relationship.

So, at this point, Sam had three children, one with his wife Gladys and two with my bio-mom. We were all surrendered for adoption. According to public records, bio-dad and his wife, Gladys, had several more children together.

They also raised a nephew as an unofficially adopted son. There’s an tragic story about his father’s death, and somehow his mother was involved or at least witnessed the horrible accident. I was told there was more to the story than what was in the newspapers. She ended up with severe mental disabilities and spent the rest of her life in a convalescent home. 

Bio-dad's story continued with his moral struggles. In May, 1959, another son was born to bio-dad and an unnamed mother. It's unsure whether or not he claimed him as a son and gave up parental rights. If he was true to form, he ignored his responsibility.

An interesting story about how this half-brother was found. My youngest half-brother's friend happened to be eating at a diner in or around Detroit and saw this man no one knew. Apparently he looked so much like my half-brother that he approached him and began talking and learned he was also adopted. I'm unsure of all the facts, but it's an accepted fact that he is another son of bio-dad but not with his wife.

By now, most of my family knows that my bio-dad was an NHRA title holder. Unfortunately, he died before he could take his talent to a level of even greater success and recognition.

Milan Dragway sponsored an annual Sam Stockwell Memorial Day for several years after he passed. The dragway is now closed, and only the echoes of victories and defeats remain. Perhaps one day there will be a resurrection of the glory of dragracing at Milan Dragway. Until then, Sam remains a legend in the memory of those who knew him and raced with and against him.

A tragic ending to what many would deem an exciting and successful life. Unfortunately, he didn't live long enough to fulfill his greatest potential as a man, father, and title-winning NHRA drag racer.

But, Wait!

Can you believe it's taken this long to track down the track? (No pun intended!!) Actually, Dylan (grandson) and his Mom (Dana) had already been there. I just never had the opportunity to visit the esteemed Milan Dragway until an unexpected stop on a day out with Dana and Ethan. We were heading to Frankenmuth, Michigan, when Dana asked if I wanted to take a quick detour to Milan and, of course, I was more than happy to agree to the change in plans!

It was an unexpected blessing, but perhaps that's not the exact word (as if there is one) to describe what I felt. There we were, on the very ground my bio dad walked on, walked on the track he won titles on, and had a sense of the excitement that must have exploded in his heart as he received the trophies for First in Class, etc. I could almost feel his presence – I never even met the man but there was that sense of connection, of belonging, and of family pride! That was my FATHER who recieved the tropies. That was Sam Stockwell, father of a forgotten daughter who would have loved him and cheered him on every time the rubber met the pavement on the dragway!

I'll tell you a little story about how we got into trouble that day, but please don't turn us in to the authorities! LOL

We drove around looking for a gate or a sign of life anywhere since the track was closed for the season. We noticed two trucks by a building but there was no movement or any signs of life. Suddenly, we spotted it! A gate to the track was left open! Dana was driving (she's not as brave as some of my family members) so I had to egg her on: "Go ahead, Dana ... nobody is here!" "Don't stop, keep going!" "Look, there's a way to get onto the track!" "Don't be so scared ... it's gonna be ok!"

Finally, she inched to the end of the access road and turned onto the track. Woah! What a feeling! The very track that the man who had been a mystery to me for nearly all my life ... I got out of the car and stood on the pavement. Although I'm sure the track has been repaved countless times since the 1960's when he was alive, the connection was very real. A missing link in my family was no longer missing. The track connected us – father and daughter.

Ethan asked if he could drive on the track. Cautious Mama Dana wasn't quick to recommend it, but situated herself in the back seat, worried about what kind of trouble we would find ourselves in if someone saw us!

Ethan was in his element! Slowly, he drove down the track to the end, did a U-turn, and headed back to our starting place. I couldn't do anything but look at the surroundings, wondering if my father's eyes had gazed on the same trees that surrounded the area, if the roads and pathways were there, wondering where he would have parked his car, and more. It was so much to take in! I really didn't know what to say – the feeling and the sights, coupled with my curiosity and need to know more about the man, left me unsure what to say or how to react.

The bleachers were in rough shape; I imagined that they were the very ones he sat on while cheering on other racers he competed against. I thought of the photographer who caught him on camera accepting his trophies. Where was the photo taken in relation to the bleachers? I couldn't help but take note of the smells, the atmosphere, the sky, the clouds ... everything in the immediate area as I wondered if his eyes were actually taking in the same scene as his did while his emotions were running high with the thrill of victory, though it all would have been 50+ years earlier.

We got back to the starting point on the track and got out of the car again when a pick-up truck appeared, headed in our direction. At first, I assumed it was just a resident taking a shortcut through the grounds, but as it grew closer, it was obvious this was no shortcut taker! The truck slowed down, the window opened, and we were in trouble! We were already back in the car. We rolled down the window so we could talk.

We were sternly (and rightfully) admonished. The raceway was closed. It was private property. We were in an area where we shouldn't have been.

We politely told her we were leaving, but explained that the gate was open, and no signs were posted telling us not to enter. I asked her if she knew my dad or ever heard of him. Of course, she didn't. She didn't even sound impressed that I was the daughter of an NHRA title holder! [Her loss!] We apologized and slowly retraced our path back to the main road.

It was a bit disappointing that there was no building with Sam Stockwell memorials. No memory of this esteemed national title holder from Ypsilanti, Michigan, who just happened to be my father. No indication that the past held any significance to anyone but us. But that was enough. My heart was full, and a connection I never thought would happen actually happened.

But That's Not All

Because this was a free day of just casually heading to Frankenmuth, we had no schedule to keep and were free to do what we wanted. Dana asked if I wanted to go to the cemetery where Samuel Everett Stockwell was buried. Of course, I was excited to complete this adventure into my mysterious family history.

Only about a 20-minute drive from Milan Dragway was a huge cemetery (20,000+ graves). There's something about cemeteries that intrigues me. My husband and I have walked through countless cemeteries in Kentucky, Tennessee, and Ohio, doing our genealogy research. I was no novice when it came to walking through graveyards.

Because Highland Cemetery was so huge, Dana went into the Registrar's Office and asked where we could find the grave of Sam Stockwell. Everything was catalogued perfectly ... we expected that! However, what we didn't expect was to learn that the Registrar's family also raced at Milan Dragway and most likely raced against Sam Stockwell! It's a small world!

We were given a map with the path to his grave highlighted so we could go right to it. I'd had a photo of the gravestone for quite some time, but to stand there, looking at his name along with his birth and death years. That was as close as I would ever be to the man who gave me life.

As I stood there, my heart was flooded. I wanted to cry, but wasn't sure if I should. After all, it seemed that he didn't even want to acknowledge me as his daughter by not appearing at the hearing or signing permission to have his parental rights severed. Nonetheless, I choked back the tears, taking in all the facts of his history that I've been able to find, wondering if he had kept me, what my life would have been like.

I had just turned 18 when he passed. I can imagine I would have been a wreck! I imagine my sisters and brothers were devastated. That made my connection seem even stronger – I was sensing the deep feelings of loss of someone I didn't know but who was very much a part of who and what I am ... very much a part of my children and grandchildren. Genetically, we're forever connected – he cannot deny me. I'm not going to deny him or his place in my life. Anyway, because of that, I assumed I had a right to grieve, at least in my heart.

As we left the cemetery, we took a few pictures ... it was a beautiful setting even in the winter, and I felt blessed to have had the opportunity to visit. It was a closure for me, to a degree.

So much for Mr. Samuel Everett Stockwell ... so many questions have been answered. His genetics have influenced my family in several ways, but especially with the love of cars and fast driving. And, there's more, but just know that I may have been raised by the Bosch family but, deep in my heart, there's something deep within me that connects me to the Stockwells in a way I cannot begin to explain.