January 7, 1918 Alfred D. Weller, Jr. January 7, 2018
Alfred Weller, Jr. (Sep 25, 1899 - Jan 7, 1918) at age 17 or 18, painted from a photograph.
“Appalling Disaster” reads the front page of St. Andrews Bay News for January 8, 1918, “Smack Annie & Jennie Lost At Pass”.
Among those on board and lost in the bitter cold winter squall that lifted her high and broke her keel on the sand bar, was my uncle, my father’s brother, Alfred Weller, beginning the tragedy that broke my grandparents’ heart and spirit, and ultimately led to their selling the big house and moving to Georgia, thence to central Florida, back up to Choctawhatchee Bay, on to Pensacola where my parents met, enabling my own life and the lives of my brother and sister, and of those we love. January 8, 1918, Column 3, "Appalling Disaster - Smack Annie & Jennie Lost At Pass - Captain and Three Men Lost - O T Melvin and Dewey Bishop Only Survivors"
The newspaper issue for January 22, 1918 told more of the story of that disastrous attempt to negotiate the Old Pass in the storm. January 22, 1918, Column 3, "Smack Annie & Jennie Lost With Four Of Crew"
Alfred’s body was not found for nearly a month, Pop my grandfather personally walking the Gulf shore along with others, including young O T Melvin, one of the two survivors, who finally found the body.
Telling the story decades later, Captain Melvin said, "The Annie-Jennie was a seventy-five foot, two-masted schooner. ... She carried sixty tons of pigiron and was as fine a ship as I ever sailed. ... When we left the dock at St. Andrews, it was quite a bad night. The wind was blowing and breakers were breaking in thirty feet of water. There had been no boats out for a week, but we put out for we had our sailing orders to go into drydock at Carrabelle and to fish from there. ... Coming out of th channel at St. Andrews Bay, we hit the bottom for she drew eleven feet of water. Then there was a bump, the sea picked the Annie-Jennie up and dropped her. She hit the sandbar with a reverberating sound and the impact knocked her keel open. ... It was a night of horror! In the darkness the waves seemed mountainous as they crashed upon us, and the wind was shrieking in the sails, but the most dreadful sounds of all were the creaking and ripping as the Annie-Jennie began breaking up in the thirty feet of water.*
Of the next day when the two survivors had been taken back to St. Andrews, Captain Melvin said, "We reported to Mr. Weller that the schooner had gone down, and that we were unsure of the fate of the other three men. I shall never forget Mr. Weller's face when he heard the news. The expressions of shock, disbelief and grief were heart-rending.*
My aunt Evalyn, a young teenager at the time, told me that the body showed all the horrifying results of a month in the water and lying on the beach. The newspaper again reporting, it was returned to St. Andrews, and finally taken to Pensacola by the family for burial at St. John’s Cemetery. February 5, 1918, Column 4 "The Gulf Gives Up Another Of Its Victims - Remains Of Alfred Weller, Jr. Recovered"
Telling the story decades later, Captain Melvin said, "The Annie-Jennie was a seventy-five foot, two-masted schooner. ... She carried sixty tons of pigiron and was as fine a ship as I ever sailed. ... When we left the dock at St. Andrews, it was quite a bad night. The wind was blowing and breakers were breaking in thirty feet of water. There had been no boats out for a week, but we put out for we had our sailing orders to go into drydock at Carrabelle and to fish from there. ... Coming out of th channel at St. Andrews Bay, we hit the bottom for she drew eleven feet of water. Then there was a bump, the sea picked the Annie-Jennie up and dropped her. She hit the sandbar with a reverberating sound and the impact knocked her keel open. ... It was a night of horror! In the darkness the waves seemed mountainous as they crashed upon us, and the wind was shrieking in the sails, but the most dreadful sounds of all were the creaking and ripping as the Annie-Jennie began breaking up in the thirty feet of water.*
Of the next day when the two survivors had been taken back to St. Andrews, Captain Melvin said, "We reported to Mr. Weller that the schooner had gone down, and that we were unsure of the fate of the other three men. I shall never forget Mr. Weller's face when he heard the news. The expressions of shock, disbelief and grief were heart-rending.*
My aunt Evalyn, a young teenager at the time, told me that the body showed all the horrifying results of a month in the water and lying on the beach. The newspaper again reporting, it was returned to St. Andrews, and finally taken to Pensacola by the family for burial at St. John’s Cemetery. February 5, 1918, Column 4 "The Gulf Gives Up Another Of Its Victims - Remains Of Alfred Weller, Jr. Recovered"
Odum T. Melvin, survivor of the wreck who later found Alfred's body said, "I searched the waters and beaches for twenty-two days after the disaster. I found Alf Weller, Jr. on the beach and carried him to his father."*
A parent never recovers from such. More than thirty years later, Pop told me that he wouldn't let the search be given up until Alfred was found, otherwise he said, "I would never again be able to look the boy's mother in the face." Pop's pain was all the more wrenching because of the story that Mom had insisted and begged that Alfred not be allowed to make the trip with the A&J, but that Pop and Alfred had laughed at her fear and Pop had given permission over her objections. For our family, that was the road taken. January 7, 1918. Alfred was the apple of his parents' eye.
A parent never recovers from such. More than thirty years later, Pop told me that he wouldn't let the search be given up until Alfred was found, otherwise he said, "I would never again be able to look the boy's mother in the face." Pop's pain was all the more wrenching because of the story that Mom had insisted and begged that Alfred not be allowed to make the trip with the A&J, but that Pop and Alfred had laughed at her fear and Pop had given permission over her objections. For our family, that was the road taken. January 7, 1918. Alfred was the apple of his parents' eye.
Five years later, in 1923, my grandparents sold the old family homestead that they'd built in 1912, and moved to Ocilla, Georga, far inland and away from the sea. Because Mike McKenzie found it and gave it to me, I have the original legal document of that deed conveyance transaction. My father's story was that they loaded up their two cars, a Hudson touring car and a Model-T Ford, cages of Mom's chickens (Mom always had chickens) tied to the running boards of both cars, and headed north through the woods, Pop driving the Hudson with Mom and baby sister Marguerite; my father, age 11 and Ruth driving the Ford, (Evalyn was at college in Tallahassee) Georgia bound, where more and different family stories were created.
At some point my father's sisters took it upon themselves to replace the old, worn, tall and old-fashioned gravestone that'd marked Alfred's grave and that I'd known my growing up years. At the same time they replaced all the other stones in the family plot including those of Mom and Pop and, background, my grandparents' first child, Carrie Lee Weller, daughter who died at age eleven-months the year before Alfred was born. I understood but frankly was appalled at the change and loss of a bit of history and beauty, and I still miss the old markers.
By my parents' efforts, the house returned to the family in 1962, and later I owned it.
However, the 13 room, 7 bedroom,, 4 1/2 bath house had grown too big and unmanageable for the two of us when Linda and I sold it again in 2014 and relocated a few blocks down the shoreline to 7H. From here I can see, just down the shore, where the dock was that A&J sailed from that night. From here I have the exact same view as from the house, but better: from the seventh floor instead of ground, I can see across the Bay, over Shell Island into the Gulf of Mexico, and from the west end of the Bay, Magnolia Beach, to the east end at East Beach Drive and on east, at night the lights of Tyndall bridge. Coming and going, ships pass night and day between here and Mexico, and with wood pellets for England and Denmark.
What do I miss? Not the house, which is for sale again. MLP, My Laughing Place. My crying place. I will always miss going to the old cedar tree when I need to.
For myself, the family story, that I hadn’t read about until friend Mike McKenzie, whose PC pioneer family owned and occupied the old house in the mid-20th century, found copies of the St. Andrews Bay News online and shared with me; but I grew up knowing the story from my grandmother and grandfather, Alfred’s parents, and from my father and his sisters. Now that I look directly across at Davis Point, round which the Annie & Jennie sailed for the last time that night, January 7, 1918, the story never leaves my mind.
Nor does my awareness that but for that short voyage and its decades of ongoing consequences, I would never have been born. This sort of twist of fate and road not taken is true for every life, but in my case the immediacy of it, and growing up hearing it over and again, and experiencing its affect on the grandparents I loved so dearly, has bonded the story on my life as though Alfred died personally for me. I have been determined to honor this day, the 100th anniversary of the Annie & Jennie loss, and hold Alfred and memories of Mom and Pop in my heart.
DThos+ a century on, this very morning, at the very hour of this posting, 2:25 AM.
For family and any others interested, the three StAndrewsBayNews articles, 8Jan1918, 22Jan1918, and 5Feb1918 are printed enlarged on the next blogpost: scroll down and click "newer post".
For family and any others interested, the three StAndrewsBayNews articles, 8Jan1918, 22Jan1918, and 5Feb1918 are printed enlarged on the next blogpost: scroll down and click "newer post".
* from "Sing to me a Sea Chantey" narrated by Captain Odum T. Melvin in Destin History ... and the Roots Run Deep by Vivian F Mette and Associates, 1975, City of Destin, Florida
pics include image of Annie & Jennie built for me by my son Joe Weller, one of my treasures; and shot of Davis Point from 7H at sunset January 6, 2018, hundredth anniversary of Alfred Daniel Weller, Jr.'s last day of life. This is where I am.
Fishing smack: any of various fore-and-aft-rigged fishing vessels, schooners of rather large size, often containing a well to keep the catch alive.
pics include image of Annie & Jennie built for me by my son Joe Weller, one of my treasures; and shot of Davis Point from 7H at sunset January 6, 2018, hundredth anniversary of Alfred Daniel Weller, Jr.'s last day of life. This is where I am.
Fishing smack: any of various fore-and-aft-rigged fishing vessels, schooners of rather large size, often containing a well to keep the catch alive.