Ken Lindsay & Associates
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Mary Ann BRYANT (1860-1935)Mary Ann BRYANT, daughter of James BRYANT and Margaret SCOTT, was born 10 March 1860 in Patoka Twp., Pike Co., Indiana, and died of pneumonia at her home in Winslow, Pike Co., Indiana. She lay in state in the parlor of her home which once stood where the Winslow Post Office now stands. Funeral services were held in the Winslow Methodist Episcopal Church in Winslow and burial beside her husband in the Sunset Cemetery located about a mile northeast of Winslow. Mary Ann BRYANT was educated in the Winslow School of that day and served as housekeeper for Thomas SCALES, the Pike County Sheriff. She was living in the sheriff's residence when she met her future husband. Mary Ann BRYANT married 15 August 1882 at Petersburg, Pike Co., Indiana, James William GREEN, son of Napoleon Bonaparte GREEN and Elizabeth SHAWHAN. "Will" GREEN was born 20 May 1860 in Madison Twp., Pike Co., Indiana and preceded his wife in death 17 February 1935. When I was a child Grandma Green quite frequently visited and decorated the graves of her parents and siblings and nearly always had me in tow. Today, some of the tombstones have been destroyed and many other graves were never permanently marked in the first place. As a result, I do know the locations of their graves and have noted them to my children and nephews. When I was six years old, I can remember Grandma Green having bunions and corns on her feet so badly she could hardly get around. However, she managed to cook three meals a day, but had a girl who came and helped with the other housekeeping chores. When it came to gardening, she and Grandpa Green were the best and equally shared that task. Grandma canned everything which she stored in the cellar of their house. On hot summer days I used to play in that cellar because it was so cool. All family members, including mom's aunts, uncles and cousins always gathered for a dinner at her large dining room table on every Memorial Day, Thanksgiving and Christmas. This continued until her death. She was a fantastic cook and always had a variety of pies in her pie cabinet. My family lived north of town, but having no car never kept us from making at least one trip to town every day. In the course of each trip we generally followed this pattern: we let ourselves in the kitchen door, lifted up the tablecloth that covered the leftovers of the previous meal, grab a biscuit, smear it with homemade butter and jelly, walk through the dining room into the living room where we could usually find Grandma sitting in her rocker and watching the activities around the blacksmith shop just across the street. The first thing out of Grandma's mouth was, "What's your Mamma doing?" Should we ever fail to stop and follow that routine, we would hear the raping sounds of her knuckles against the window pane before we were half way across the street that bounded the south side of her house. We would have to turn back and see what she wanted. Invariably she wanted to know, "What's your Mamma doing?" On Thanksgiving day after my 5th birthday, Mom, Dad, Helen and I had arrived at Grandma's house to help prepare the celebrated meal that day. Uncle Ted Green, with me in tow, took off in Grandpa's new Ford Touring car. Uncle Ted drove us past the ballpark, along the road that parallel the Patoka River. Ted parked the car and walked down to the rivers edge. The water was extremely low because of extremely dry weather and river so low you could walk across and never get your feet wet. Once across the river, Uncle Ted hoisted me on his shoulders and dog-trotted across a wide field and the Southern Railroad tracks. I had no idea where were going, but Ted did. We approached some black guys standing outside a rounded brick structure of brick. There were several others exactly like it. Much later in life, I learned the strange structures were Coke Ovens where old Number 4 mine turned coal into coke. Uncle Ted and I walked inside and joined a small group of men down on their knees shooting dice. Ted and I were the only white people there. All the others were black guys. Uncle Ted joined in the game which must have lasted more than an hour. And once again we crossed back over the railroad tracks. Ted hoisted me on his shoulders again and trotted back to the river. Once we arrived back at Grandma's house, Grandma asked me where we had been? Proud as some peacock, I raised my arm, shook my fist and boastfully proclaimed, "We've been shooting Nigers!" Of course this was in reference to hearing Uncle Ted shout, "I'll shoot you a dollar!"
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