My Family Tree

Catherine Sarah Emma Jenkins

Person Chart

Parents

Father	Date of Birth	Mother	Date of Birth
William M. M. Jenkins	01 Aug 1826	Mary Susan Susan Flynn	17 Apr 1834

Partners

Partner	Date of Birth	Children
Ellie Henderson	ABT 1858	Ellie Henderson Minnie Henderson Twin Sons Henderson
William F. Leachman Jr.	06 Sep 1832	John L Leachman Leslie L. Leachman Joe Berry Leachman Ethel Susan Leachman Oma May Leachman Earnie T (Jack) Leachman

Person Events

Event Type	Date	Place	Description
Birth	28 Nov 1862	Banner, Calhoun, MS, United States
Marriage	14 Dec 1890	Calhoun, MS, United States
Death	22 Apr 1949	Sarepta, Calhoun, MS, United States
Burial		Sarepta, Calhoun, MS, United States	Stewart Cemetery

Notes


(Written and contributed by Joan Martin, article published in The Calhoun County Journal Newspaper, February 19, 2009 titled Cattie Jenkins Remembered) Oh, the stories I have heard of great grandmother "Cattie." Catherine Jenkins was born 28 Nov 1862 in Calhoun County, MS. Never one to ramble, she died 22 April 1949 in the same county. Her life lasted some 87 years. I remember seeing her as a child, but my memories are not as vivid as the stories I've heard about this little, fiery Irish lady in black. "Cattie" Jenkins, daughter of William Jenkins and Mary Susan Flynn, married William Leachman 14 Dec 1890. William was 30 years older than Catherine was; he was close to sixty at the marriage and she near thirty. Both were married previously. Catherine was married the first time to her childhood sweetheart, Mr. Henderson, who died of pneumonia in his early manhood. They had two daughters, Minnie and Ellie and twin sons that died at birth. Ellie died when a horse threw her onto a wooden bridge; she had been married a couple weeks at the time of her death. Minnie was her only surviving daughter from the first marriage. Cattie married second to William Leachman and they produced my grandmother Ethel Susan Leachman/Cain who was born 31 Dec 1899, only hours before the turn of the century. Grandma Ethel had the following brothers and sisters: John L. b 1892, Leslie T. b 1894, Joe Berry b 1896, Oma M b 1902 and the baby Earnie T (Jack) b 1905 when his dad was 73 years old. William Leachman, Cattie's husband of almost twenty years, died 6 May 1909. My grandmother Ethel remembers seeing her mother cry when he died and feeling the profound loss of her father. Grandma Ethel remembers seeing her mother take a little jar down from the windowsill shortly after her dad died and count the coins in it. No stranger to grief, Grandma Cattie accepted her second widowhood, and life moved right along for her. She raised her children and when they grew up and married, she did a lot of hiking up and down the roads to her children's houses to stay "a spell" with them. They never knew when she was coming, or how long she was staying, but someone in Grandma Ethel's house was always on the lookout and would spot the long, black skirts flapping in the breeze coming over the hill, and they prepared. She arrived with a satchel over her shoulder and her big, black Bible tucked under her arm. It was both pleasure and pain when grandma Cattie came for one of her extended visits. Once welcomed and settled in, Cattie took over the household, which included cooking, cleaning and straightening out the kids. The nine kids, all grown and still alive at this writing, remember how handy their Grandma Cattie was with a knife. She not only used the knife for cooking, but also swatted their naughty little legs with it as they made flying passes through the kitchen to pull on her long skirts while she was busy fixing the food. Frequently a chase ensued, and when the kids leaped into the apple tree for safety, she pulled them out by one leg and they got paddled under the tree. Cattie's daughter, my Grandma Ethel, was oblivious to the commotion. She was an avid reader, and when her mother came she was off on a mental vacation, never looking up from her book while her mother chased the kids around the yard with the knife. Cattie's punishment was bad the kids said, but her soup was sure good. Her soup started with tomatoes and onions fresh from the garden, adding corn cut from the cob, a few beef bones and freshly dug Irish potatoes. As each corncob was scraped she would dip it in the simmering pot of soup; an immediate truce was called... mercifully so... and her grandchildren lined up wating for a nice tomato soaked, warm corncob to suck on. Peace reigned when the soup was on. Grandma Cattie neither wasted nor wanted not, but above all, she is remembered for never losing a battle. Cattie had a little front flower garden inside a white picket fence where she raised her favorite flowers among them larkspurs and phlox. She tolerated no interference from pests in the garden, and it was too bad and sudden death when moles invaded her space. She caught them in traps, killed them, skinned them and tanned their little hides. When the young granddaughters came to visit, she filled lids with face powder and my mother remembers playing grown-up lady, using the soft, mole-hide powder puffs on her nose. Treasured memories of my mother when she spent the night at Cattie's house were her spinning wheel, a beautiful organ in the parlor, a white bedspread embroidered with purple lilacs and drinking from China mustache cups at breakfast. Cattie, remembering a young girl's fanciful heart, indulged my mother in her first pair of high heels as a teenager. Cattie also had one of the first radios in the area around the year 1930, and mother would take the shortcut through the woods that separated their houses and listen to music with her grandma in the evening. Cattie was a saver. When a fierce windstorm blew down the barn at Grandma Ethel's farm, Cattie was there to help as soon as things quieted down. Over a period of weeks Cattie and her little hands removed several quart jars of bent, rusty nails from the collapsed barn. It was quite a bone of contention with my Grandpa Hollis later when he was forced to use the old nails, asking out loud why no one could stop Cattie from saving junk. Cattie had a love of God and great fear of the devil, the Bible being her daily guide to life. She was spiritual, religious and everything in between. Basically a Baptist, but quite open minded, she attended revivals with the Methodists and Presbyterians as well. Cattie recognized sin in any combination, walking up and down the church aisle tapping people on the shoulder encouraging them to walk up front for repentance when the call came out. Some of her grandsons attended the protracted meetings, casually sitting on the window sills, so when their grandma headed toward them they could jump out the window. Known for holding her ground, Cattie won her last battle after she died. She told her children in her old, old age that she wished to be buried in death by the love of her youth, Mr. Henderson. The whole family got up in arms over the announcement and decided that in fact her wish would NOT stand. It was only right she be buried beside their father, William Leachman, who she had been married to some twenty years. However, being true to herself, her own waman to the end, and no doubt flanked by a band of angels, Cattie walked to the funeral home, carried out her last wish by buying the plot next to Mr. Henderson and ordered her own grave marker. She then returned home and "waited it out'" When she died, there was a lot of agonizing over what to do with Cattie and her wishes. Finally one of her children reckoned there wasn't much point in "wasting a grave site," so giving in to her one last time, they buried her along side her first husband, the young love she never forgot. by: Joan Martin, Oct. 1996

(Written and contributed by Joan Martin, article published in The Calhoun County Journal Newspaper, February 19, 2009 titled Cattie Jenkins Remembered)

Oh, the stories I have heard of great grandmother "Cattie."

Catherine Jenkins was born 28 Nov 1862 in Calhoun County, MS. Never one to ramble, she died 22 April 1949 in the same county. Her life lasted some 87 years. I remember seeing her as a child, but my memories are not as vivid as the stories I've heard about this little, fiery Irish lady in black.

"Cattie" Jenkins, daughter of William Jenkins and Mary Susan Flynn, married William Leachman 14 Dec 1890. William was 30 years older than Catherine was; he was close to sixty at the marriage and she near thirty. Both were married previously. Catherine was married the first time to her childhood sweetheart, Mr. Henderson, who died of pneumonia in his early manhood. They had two daughters, Minnie and Ellie and twin sons that died at birth. Ellie died when a horse threw her onto a wooden bridge; she had been married a couple weeks at the time of her death. Minnie was her only surviving daughter from the first marriage.

Cattie married second to William Leachman and they produced my grandmother Ethel Susan Leachman/Cain who was born 31 Dec 1899, only hours before the turn of the century. Grandma Ethel had the following brothers and sisters: John L. b 1892, Leslie T. b 1894, Joe Berry b 1896, Oma M b 1902 and the baby Earnie T (Jack) b 1905 when his dad was 73 years old.

William Leachman, Cattie's husband of almost twenty years, died 6 May 1909. My grandmother Ethel remembers seeing her mother cry when he died and feeling the profound loss of her father. Grandma Ethel remembers seeing her mother take a little jar down from the windowsill shortly after her dad died and count the coins in it.

No stranger to grief, Grandma Cattie accepted her second widowhood, and life moved right along for her. She raised her children and when they grew up and married, she did a lot of hiking up and down the roads to her children's houses to stay "a spell" with them. They never knew when she was coming, or how long she was staying, but someone in Grandma Ethel's house was always on the lookout and would spot the long, black skirts flapping in the breeze coming over the hill, and they prepared.

She arrived with a satchel over her shoulder and her big, black Bible tucked under her arm. It was both pleasure and pain when grandma Cattie came for one of her extended visits. Once welcomed and settled in, Cattie took over the household, which included cooking, cleaning and straightening out the kids. The nine kids, all grown and still alive at this writing, remember how handy their Grandma Cattie was with a knife. She not only used the knife for cooking, but also swatted their naughty little legs with it as they made flying passes through the kitchen to pull on her long skirts while she was busy fixing the food. Frequently a chase ensued, and when the kids leaped into the apple tree for safety, she pulled them out by one leg and they got paddled under the tree. Cattie's daughter, my Grandma Ethel, was oblivious to the commotion. She was an avid reader, and when her mother came she was off on a mental vacation, never looking up from her book while her mother chased the kids around the yard with the knife.

Cattie's punishment was bad the kids said, but her soup was sure good. Her soup started with tomatoes and onions fresh from the garden, adding corn cut from the cob, a few beef bones and freshly dug Irish potatoes. As each corncob was scraped she would dip it in the simmering pot of soup; an immediate truce was called... mercifully so... and her grandchildren lined up wating for a nice tomato soaked, warm corncob to suck on. Peace reigned when the soup was on.

Grandma Cattie neither wasted nor wanted not, but above all, she is remembered for never losing a battle. Cattie had a little front flower garden inside a white picket fence where she raised her favorite flowers among them larkspurs and phlox. She tolerated no interference from pests in the garden, and it was too bad and sudden death when moles invaded her space. She caught them in traps, killed them, skinned them and tanned their little hides.

When the young granddaughters came to visit, she filled lids with face powder and my mother remembers playing grown-up lady, using the soft, mole-hide powder puffs on her nose.

Treasured memories of my mother when she spent the night at Cattie's house were her spinning wheel, a beautiful organ in the parlor, a white bedspread embroidered with purple lilacs and drinking from China mustache cups at breakfast.

Cattie, remembering a young girl's fanciful heart, indulged my mother in her first pair of high heels as a teenager. Cattie also had one of the first radios in the area around the year 1930, and mother would take the shortcut through the woods that separated their houses and listen to music with her grandma in the evening.

Cattie was a saver. When a fierce windstorm blew down the barn at Grandma Ethel's farm, Cattie was there to help as soon as things quieted down. Over a period of weeks Cattie and her little hands removed several quart jars of bent, rusty nails from the collapsed barn. It was quite a bone of contention with my Grandpa Hollis later when he was forced to use the old nails, asking out loud why no one could stop Cattie from saving junk.

Cattie had a love of God and great fear of the devil, the Bible being her daily guide to life. She was spiritual, religious and everything in between. Basically a Baptist, but quite open minded, she attended revivals with the Methodists and Presbyterians as well. Cattie recognized sin in any combination, walking up and down the church aisle tapping people on the shoulder encouraging them to walk up front for repentance when the call came out. Some of her grandsons attended the protracted meetings, casually sitting on the window sills, so when their grandma headed toward them they could jump out the window.

Known for holding her ground, Cattie won her last battle after she died. She told her children in her old, old age that she wished to be buried in death by the love of her youth, Mr. Henderson. The whole family got up in arms over the announcement and decided that in fact her wish would NOT stand. It was only right she be buried beside their father, William Leachman, who she had been married to some twenty years.

However, being true to herself, her own waman to the end, and no doubt flanked by a band of angels, Cattie walked to the funeral home, carried out her last wish by buying the plot next to Mr. Henderson and ordered her own grave marker. She then returned home and "waited it out'" When she died, there was a lot of agonizing over what to do with Cattie and her wishes.

Finally one of her children reckoned there wasn't much point in "wasting a grave site," so giving in to her one last time, they buried her along side her first husband, the young love she never forgot.

by: Joan Martin, Oct. 1996

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Cattie Jenkins

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