A Tennant Family

Claire Garvin Dunn states that Dave Bristow was John Bristow's only son. Dave married William Downey's half-sister, Margaret ("Maggie" Miles) and lived two houses up from James William Garvin, just beyond the curved intersection and Black Lake Road, (called the 4-rod road) where Benders lived in the 1930s. They had no children and Claire states she knew of no other relatives.

In Mary Boyle Downey's "Dickens Birthday Book" William Downey, age 80 (year 1919) that his birthday was 19 May 1838. 1838 + 80 = 1918. The certificate from the Catholic Church in Toronto said William Downey was born 8 May 1838 to Mary Wilson Downey. If this is true, then William Downey was 81 years old in 1919. He died 28 Aug 1920, says Mary Boyle Downey. Jessie Downey Fay said he died 29 Aug 1920.

William Downey, Jr. must have been in Lander, Wyoming, in 1919 to visit his youngest son, George, and Mary Boyle Downey at the Hudson, Wyoming ranch. This was the year that William Downey wanted to know how the hay loft was doing after George had placed large cables around the barn to keep it from falling down. William Downey had been a seaman on the St Lawrence river and the Great Lakes many years of his life. He was very strong. At the age of 81, he did a hand-over-hand on a rope hanging from the hay loft to elevate himself to the hay loft so he could see the inside of the second story of the barn. He was satisfied with the cable and the stability of the barn. He then proceded to place his legs straight out from his body and come down the rope, again hand-over-hand.

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Re- William Downey, Jr. written by Aunte Jessie Downey Fay:
My father was William Downey, Jr., born in Brockville, Ontario, Canada (just across the St. Lawrence River from Morristown, New York.). His father was a carpenter and joiner and while working on the Tin Cap Schoolhouse (just back of Brockville) he fell from the building and was killed. Someone was asked to go tell his wife but by some error she had not been told of his death, and when the body was brought home to her, she was taken with convulsions which lasted for several days and until after her little son was born, which she named for his father, William Downey. The mother was cared for by kind neighbors. A family by the name of Burns was particularly kind and kept up the aquaintance with father. After a few years (1846), his mother married an army captain, John Miles.

Father's Mother's maiden name was Mary Wilson but he never knew what family of Wilsons he belonged to. I am writing to see if in the year 1838 there was money deposited in this bank for Mrs. William Downey and who the person was who deposited it. (There was no reply to this letter from the bank.) I have been told there was money deposited for her by some one of her family and it never was used and probably at a later date was taken back. My father (William Downey, Jr.) was born 18 May 1838. (The birth letter from the Catholic Church shows he was born on the 8th of May, 1838).

Willaim Downey, Jr. came to Morristown, New York when a child 8 or 9 years old and lived his entire life here. He died in 1920 without knowing anything of his family.

Father (William Downey, Jr.) was born in Brockville, Ontario, Canada. He came to this country, U.S.A., when he was 8 years old. He came with a Frenchman named Roshette who lived in a cabin somewhere near the village on the Mill road. Mr. Roshette lived alone and felt that Billy should have a home, perhaps with some of the surrounding farm families.

So it happened one day in harvest time that the threshing machine was at the Pringal place and Mr. Roshette said for Billy to go over there where the men of the neighborhood were threshing and see if some one of them might take Billy home with them. So Billy went, and I really think Mr. Roshette had told him to ask if there were any of the men that needed a boy to help them. However, there was a Mr. John Bristow there, and one of the men spoke up and said, "John, here is the boy you have been waiting for." Just a little way off there was a field of grain and also some pigs running around loose and John Bristow said, "Let's see if you can get those pigs out of the grain." At that, Billy, eager to please, scampered after the pigs and got them even though he was a little barefooted boy and there were plenty of thistles. There was a lot of loud laughter and joking among the men, saying he is your boy, John. He is your boy!

However, at the end of the day and the men went home, John Bristow took Billy home with him and he was their adopted son and all the older people knew him as Billy Downey.

The Bristow farm still belongs to the Downey family through Carl and Jessie Downey Fay. My father always remembered the girl, Mary Hindmarsh, who at that time was working for the Bristows. She evidently did not like the idea of adding Billy to the family and said to Mr Bristow, "I don't know why you brought that little devil here." Many years later I've heard my father laugh and tell her of it. My father married her youngest sister, Sarah Hindmarsh. Original signed J.E.F. (Jessie E. Fay)

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Note: from James Chapin Downey, grandson of George Ralph Downey a brother to Jessie Downey Fay.
In 1964, I, James Chapin Downey, did visit the Fay family, meeting quite a number of the family members during the 3- to 4-day visit. I took pictures of the farm buildings spoken of in the preceeding written by Aunt Jessie. The John Bristow farm was obtained by William Downey, Jr., then the Carl Fay family. I was able to stay in the farm house, to see the kitchen, the stairs leading to the upstairs bedroom, the living room, the rest of the house that my Great-Gramdfather and Great Grandmother worked and lived in. What a blessing!

This was the very house that got my attention around the Thanksgiving Dinner table as I listened to my Grandfather, George Downey, tell about his experiences as a young boy on the farm. One story was more outstanding to me than some of the other stories.

It was very early in the morning on as cold winter day. George Downey would be the first out of bed to build a fire in the kitchen stove. George had completed the fire building, the lids were on the stove, the damper was open to let a good draft through the fire box, and George was sitting on the stairs waiting for the fire to heat up enough to adjust the damper.

A loud knock of three bangs came to the kitchen door just in front of George. It was the custom at that time that children did not answer the door to a knocking visitor. George called up the stairs, "Father, someone is at the door." George could hear his father walk on the upstairs floor and start down the stairs toward the kitchen back door. His father was wearing long heavey underwear and had slipped his trousers on to answer the door. He had placed one suspender over his left sholder and just starting to move the right suspender toward his right shoulder when again a very loud knock with three bangs came to the door again.

George said his father, William, replied halfway down the stairs with a loud gruff voice, "I'm coming, I'm coming!"

William Downey opened the door to face the newly fallen snow without any footprints, no person, no nothing to be seen to greet him after all of that loud knocking and banging of the door. Now, that really startled the family! What is this all about???

George checked his rat traps around the house and barn. All were in place without any disturbance. The cows in the barn were all peaceful without problems. The horses were as they always were in the early morning wanting their oats but with no unusual fuss. All was calm in the house and barn. So who or what was doing all of the knocking on the kitchen door?? Nobody and nothing! Even the snow was undisturbed.

About noon that day the neighbor boy rode his saddle horse from house to house telling the neighbors that his father had passed away early that morning. Several of the neighbors told the boy of knocking at their doors early in the morning. It was just concluded by those having the experience that the boy's father was making his rounds to his friends and neighbors of his farewell.

This story was paramount in my mind and still is at the age 69 about my two grandfathers hearing the knock of the dead saying good-bye with a profound three loud knocks on the kitchen door while the cook stove fire began to heat the room.

The love in my heart for these two men and their families is a witness to me of life eternal. There is no death. Only a parting from our bodies until the resurection. Some have said, "Death is no more than taking off your 'Earth Suit' and going home to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ until the resurection when our bodies will be again united with us forever."