Elizabeth J. Whitaker Jenkins was born in Fairview November 7, 1868. She was the oldest child of Jesse L. Whitaker and Martha Rosilla Garren. Elizabeth’s parents moved their family to Copper Hill, Polk County, Tennessee in late 1883 or early 1884. Jesse Whitaker’s father Henry Whitaker (1811-1883) had died in October 1883 and had left him nothing in his will. That made Jesse Whitaker mad and he left Fairview. But a few years later Jesse’s sister Mariam Whitaker Garren and his brother Solomon Whitaker gave him part of their mountain land, and the family then moved back to Fairview. Elizabeth Whitaker was strong-willed and hot-tempered like her father. The last time her father spanked her, he put her head between his legs as he always did his children and started pounding her bottom. Aunt Liz reared up her head and tossed her father in the fireplace. She believed she could handle anything and anybody that came along. In 1893 James Fidella Jenkins came along. James Fidella Jenkins and Elizabeth Whitaker were married January 14, 1894. When the preacher pronounced them man and wife, he told Fidella that he might kiss his bride. Fidella bent over to kiss Aunt Liz. She grabbed him by the shirt collar with one hand, stuck a knife to his throat with the other hand and said “Fidella, you old son of a b—h, you’re not going to do me like you did them other women. I am going to be a flea in your shirt tail as long as you live!” Fidella Jenkins had met his match, and his fourth wife would be his last. Uncle Fie and Aunt Liz moved into a small cabin on the Chestnut Flat of Flat Top Mountain. Their first son Luther Jenkins was born ten months later. Another son, Lonnie Jenkins, was born eleven months after Luther. Then two daughters were born and finished out their family. Uncle Fie and Aunt Liz fought and cussed each other from the first day until the last day of their marriage. When Fie and Liz would work in the garden together, kids would hide nearby just to listen at what the couple called each other. Soon they would be laughing so loud Aunt Liz would hear them. She would pull her ever-ready knife out of her pocket and chase after the children, promising to run her knife through them. She chased them until she was exhausted and collapsed on the ground. This not only occurred as long as they lived in Fairview but long after they moved to Leicester. My boss at the West Asheville Post Office said his daddy and uncles and aunts would hide in the weeds as kids and listen to the couple cuss each other. He said his father told him that the old couple would never fail to come up with a new insult every time they listened. My grandfather Robert Taylor Whitaker (1884- 1942) was just nine and a half years old when his sister married Fidella Jenkins. He told my father that Uncle Fie was overbearing and mean to him when he was a boy. Grandfather said when he was around 16 years old, Uncle Fie was giving him a hard time and he decided he had had enough. Grandpa placed his pocket knife in the palm of his hand, wrapped his fingers around it and left about an inch of the butt of the knife sticking out. He jumped on Uncle Fie and knocked him to the ground. Grandpa took the butt of his knife and worked Fie’s head over with it. When he finished with Jenkins, his head was a bloody pulp. Fidella Jenkins never bothered grandfather again.
Uncle Fidella also seemed to enjoy provoking Aunt Liz. She was churning butter once when Uncle Fie was leaving to go down the mountain to the store. When he reached the door, Fie stuck his foot out and knocked over Liz’s butter churn. Half-made butter went everywhere. Uncle Fie just chuckled as he went out the door, but Aunt Liz went through the roof. Carrie Chatham Jenkins (1894-1985) and Carmie Chatham Guffey (1888-1982) said you could hear Aunt Liz pitching a fit from their mother’s house a half mile away. On another occasion when Uncle Fie made Aunt Liz mad, she grabbed a gun and shot at him. He jumped out of the way and she shot a steer in the hip. Three of the Jenkins’ four children were not like their parents. Rushia and Maude were quiet, respectful and slow to anger, and tried to avoid saying anything bad about anyone. Luther also tried to avoid trouble and was even-tempered. Lonnie was more like his parents. Lon would make his mother mad for the fun of it, and Aunt Liz would fly at him and take after him with her knife. She would chase him until she got so tired she would collapse. Lonnie would fall to the ground two hundred feet in front of his mother and laugh at her. Aunt Liz would tear after him again until she gave out. Lon would again lie down and at her. Liz would get mad and take after him again. Aunt Liz did not want to let her daughters Rushia and Maude or her son Luther marry, but I never heard of her trying to prevent Lon from marrying. He was too much like her and she could not control him. Rushia, the oldest daughter, fell in love with Carl Marlowe, who lived in Marlowe Cove in the Flat Creek- Nesbitt Chapel area. Aunt Liz would not agree to let Rushia marry Carl. But Carl Marlowe went to Spring Mountain Baptist Church, which Rushia and her family attended, and at this church between Sunday school and preaching there was about 15 minutes free time. Carl and Rushia took advantage of this and ran off to get married. This gave them a fifteen to twenty minute head start on Aunt Liz before she figured out what was going on.
She pulled out her trusty knife and took after Rushia and Carl. Carrie Jenkins and Carmie Guffey said she hunted for them all over Broad River for a day and a half before she finally gave up and went home. Liz then took her rage out on her younger daughter Maude. She demanded to know when she was going to run off with some sorry son of a b—h and get married. Maude Jenkins went to see Mary Edmundson Clements (1855-1938) and told her that Aunt Liz wouldn’t let her go with any one, much less get married. So Mary wrote to some of her father James Edmundson’s (1827-1908) children by his second wife to ask them if they knew a man who was looking for a wife. Julius C. Cabe wrote a letter to Mary Clements telling her that he was looking for a wife and wished to correspond with Maude Jenkins. Maude Jenkins and Julius Cabe began to “court” by mail. He would send Maude letters addressed to Mary Clements. Maude would go to Mary Clements’ house, read Cabe’s letters and write a response. All of this was done to prevent Aunt Liz from finding out what was going on. If she had found out she would have stopped Maude from even leaving the house. Maude and Julius Cabe decided to get married without ever having met each other. Maude Jenkins had never seen her future husband until he showed up for thewedding. Aunt Liz was livid when she found out. v Part Three will be in next month’s Town Crier. Local historian Bruce Whitaker documents genealogy in the Fairview area.