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Bert Spainhower — Description

Here we have another ancestor who just kinda fills a spot in the tree without leaving behind much biographical information. Though, his paper trail leaves more of an impression of tragedy than it does mystery. Charles Berton “Bert” Spainhower was born in Worthington, Indiana on April 5, 1875. He was the second son born to James David Spainhour, a proud veteran of the American Civil War, and his wife Mary English, another smiling pillar of the community. That's all well and good, and I'm an optimistic sort of gal so I like to imagine he had a good upbringing, but there doesn't seem to be any record of his growing years until December 23, 1899, when he married Ada Alma Cullison, who was… only 17 at the time. Sometimes I regret being a history nerd.
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Their first child, a daughter named Hazel, was born October 8, 1900, but sadly she wasn't long for this world. Their baby wasn't even two months old when pneumonia took her in November. Their next attempt gave them a son, my great-great grandfather Jim Alfred, on Christmas Day in 1901. Obviously since I'm here data dumping to y'all right now, he survived into adulthood, as did his brother Orville, born March 21, 1904. There was also a fourth child born in 1906, but it didn't make it two sunrises, not even long enough to christen it with a name.
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By this point, the family had moved to Terre Haute, presumably to get in on the coal mining boom. The coal industry is rare in Indiana because most of this state is just one big ass slab of limestone, but the southwestern counties are some of the only places here with enough coal deposits to make a living off of poisoning our atmosphere. Terre Haute, being the only major city and railway hub in the area, would've been the ideal jumping off point for Bert's coal career. Records list him as a “fireman”, which initially made me think of our modern conception of a fire department, but then I started researching historical coal mining and came to find out that a “fireman” in this context was a laborer whose job it was to detect methane leaks in the mines. They'd determine this by getting all mummied up in wet rags and carrying a big ass stick with a flame lit at the other end. If something… you know… fucking exploded, that would be the indicator that there was a leak. I mean I guess, yeah, that'd certainly give it away. Coal mining is a cartoonishly dangerous occupation, Jesus Christ. Maybe, just maybe, we should stop before everyone blows up, gets lung cancer, or straight up can't breathe Mother Earth's atmosphere anymore, hmm yes?
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Bert and his family moved back to Greene County some point between 1906 and 1910, settling down in the mining town of Linton, though they'd eventually trade that podunk place for more prosperous Petersburg in Pike County. Here, death stalked the family again, but instead of one of the children, it was their mother this time. Ada died on May 20, 1914 from complications brought on by an “obstruction of the bowels” which is… not how I want to go. As if that wasn't bad enough, Bert's mother Mary died on January 27, 1915, after suffering with heart lesions for several months. How well Bert himself handled these losses is entirely up to speculation, but he was quick to move on with his life. He remarried to Louetta “Ettie” Kellams on April 22, 1915, and they'd have over a decade together before she too preceded Bert to the grave, going the way of Arthur Morgan on April 14, 1929.
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By this point, Bert seems to have had little family left. Both his partners were gone and all of his kids had grown and moved out by now. The 1930 census shows an aging Bert, not yet retired from the horrors of the coal mines, had taken up board with the family of an Orville Johnson, who without knowing anything else about, I'm gonna assume was a family friend. By 1942 at the least, Bert had followed his son Jim Alfred up north to South Bend, retiring and sharing a house with him until at least the 1950 census. At some point, though, it seems his son got kinda sick of him, and put him in the Rest Haven Nursing Home all the way back down in Lipton, where Bert would ultimately pass away on April 8, 1957. Of what, I couldn't find, but honestly I'm surprised he made it to 82 after spelunking in the mines for so many years.
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Design notes, I've found a whopping six photographs of Bert, which I think is the most I've got for any one ancestor outside of immediately accessible family photographs. I find it funny how when I showed them off to my family, the particular resemblance which my dad found immediately shocking was how Bert “scowled just like your Pa Paw” which… probably gives you some insight on just how personable my forefathers were XD Bert does absolutely look like he just ate a bowl of nails for breakfast without any milk. He's also got hair in one photograph which was clearly taken when he was a lot younger (though how young I have no clue), but every other photograph has him bald, and he was already bald by the time he filled out his draft card for the First World War, so while I could've given him that dorky Victorian cowlick, I decided to just draw him in a hat like he's always wearing instead. I think it works better. I'm not so sure about the clothing layers I gave him. They are all based on pieces he wore in the photographs, but I'm not sure the way I cobbled them together fits quite as well together as I initially thought. Idk, it's not the worst composition I've ever devised so I won't get myself too hung up on it. It’s too damn hot out for overthinking.