Person:Benjamin Lindsey (4)

Benjamin Dennis Lindsey was born 12 April 1887 at Place:Holley Springs, Red River, Louisiana, United States, to Alexander Cobb Lindsey and Mary Ann Green. His date of birth is given in his parents' bible, as well as in his World War I draft registration and in his obituary. The date of birth incorrectly appears as 12 April 1890 on his death certificate.

Benjamin Dennis Lindsey grew up on his parents' farm in Place:Red River, Louisiana, United States. Around 1915, he worked for a time as a hired man on the farm of his mother-in-law to be, Lucy Frances Harris Snead, where he met his bride-to-be. The Snead family had quite a bit of land, whereas the Lindsey family rented its land. On 10 June 1916, he married Vallie Snead at her mother's house in Place:Coushatta, Red River, Louisiana, United States, with his brother Samuel and her brother Buren witnessing the marriage, according to the marriage certificate recorded in his family bible.

Benjamin Dennis Lindsey spent his first years of married life farming in Place:Red River, Louisiana, United States, near Coushatta.

I have a copy of Benjamin Dennis Lindsey's World War I registration card, dated 5 June 1917. It states that was 30, b. 12 Apr. 1887, at Coushatta, living in Coushatta when he registered for the draft. He was farming at Coushatta, married, and Caucasian. He claimed exemption because of his wife. He was of medium build and height, with gray eyes and brown hair. He signed the form before Registrar E.L. Snead, his wife's brother Elbert Luther Snead, in pct. 1, Place:Red River, Louisiana, United States.

Benjamin Dennis Lindsey is on the 1920 census, in Place:Red River, Louisiana, United States, ward 2 (ED 121, sheet 9, line 98). He is 32, b. LA, a farmer who owns his farm, with parents b. LA. Wife Vallie is 27, b. LA, parents b. LA. In the household are son Henry C., 2, and sister-in-law Grace Snead, 20, b. LA. Living on either side of Benjamin Dennis Lindsey are the families of his wife's sisters Daphne/Daffie and Jewel. Beside Jewel's family is that of their sister Sallie.

In 1923, Benjamin Dennis Lindsey moved his family to the oil boom area of Place:Union, Arkansas, United States, where work was to be found that brought wages to farmers struggling to make ends meet. A 1922 postcard of El Dorado which appeared in the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette in March 1999 shows a crowd of men hoping to gain work in the oil fields. The Democrat-Gazette notes that the back of the card has an inscription from a New York man in El Dorado at the time which says, "This is an oil field all right. The pay is good, we went to the oil wells yesterday, it is sure some sight."

From what my father and his brother Carlton told me when I was growing up (this is William Dennis Lindsey, son of Benjamin Dennis Lindsey, Jr., writing), their father was a very hard-working man, but not always a successful farmer, despite his hard work. This lack of success at farming may have been why Benjamin Dennis Lindsey moved his family to south Arkansas in 1923. I can recall my Uncle Carlton telling me about a time when his father's cotton crop was a failure, and he let a neighbor's flock of geese range in the cotton and eat it all up. They left green droppings everywhere, and neighbor children called my grandfather "Greeny, greeny gooses--t man," for days after that.

Benjamin Dennis Lindsey and family are on the 1930 census in Place:Smackover, Union, Arkansas, United States (ED 70-37, sheet 5A, family 84-87). The family were apparently living in a duplex house whose other half was occupied by the family of Emory E. Dendy, which the Dendy family owned. Benjamin Dennis Lindsey was renting his half of the house for his family. Benjamin Dennis Lindsey is 42, b. LA, both parents b. LA. His occupation is pumper in the production of crude oil. Wife Vallie is 38, b. LA, parents b. LA. The census lists her as 19 when she married. (Note: both her age in 1930 and when she married are incorrect; she was actually 40 in 1930, and 26 when she married. My grandmother was loath to admit her true age at any time, and perhaps particularly on census documents. As my grandfather often said, "Vallie has lied about her age so much, she doesn't even know her real age anymore.")

Also in the household in 1930 were Carlton H., 12, B.D., 9, and Helen B., 7, all b. LA, all in school. Living next-door was the family of Vallie Snead Lindsey's sister Lena Price. Note that the census indicates the family did not have a radio.

After my grandfather suffered a serious injury working in the oil fields, he moved his family back to Place:Red River, Louisiana, United States, where he resumed farming from shortly after 1930 to 1934. The family then returned to Place: Union, Arkansas, United States. At some point in the 1940s, they lived in Place:Redfield, Jefferson, Arkansas, United States, where Dennis' wife Valerie worked during the war years at the Pine Bluff Arsenal, and where his son Benjamin Dennis met his wife-to-be, Clotine Simpson.

In 1949, Benjamin Dennis Lindsey bought a store at Place:Sweet Home, Pulaski, Arkansas, United States in the bend of the road as it turns south to go to Pine Bluff. The store was on the southeast corner of the road, and was a large fieldstone building with two large rooms. The front room contained the store, and Benjamin Dennis Lindsey and wife lived in the back portion of the store.

In 1960, Benjamin Dennis Lindsey retired and moved with his wife to El Dorado to live near his son Benj. D. and B.D.'s family.

My earliest memories of my grandfather go back to the early 1950s, when the family lived on the southeast side of Little Rock in a frame house with a big wraparound porch. From the porch, we children could see the screen of a drive-in theater nearby. Soon after this, my grandparents moved to the store in Sweet Home, and I can recall many days and nights I spent with them there. The large stone store had a concrete floor, and that, along with the stone walls and high ceilings, kept it cool on even the hottest days.

Benjamin Dennis Lindsey was a very energetic small man who kept himself busy serving store customers, slicing meat and cheese, re-stocking the shelves, and sweeping. As he worked, he wore a white apron over his clothes. The apron was long, perhaps made for a much bigger man, and my grandfather wore it folded up, so that it would reach his knees rather than his feet. It was tied in back, and tended to flap about as he moved quickly around his store. As the day went on, it would become dirty with stains from the meat he sold from his meat case, and from his constant work around the store.

I enjoyed the cavernous store, and the sight of all the candy and cold drinks in the store. My grandfather did not dispense these freely, since he was a frugal man, though my grandmother was free-handed about giving treats to her grandchildren.

One of my early memories of the store is a lesson I learned about stealing. I must have been about 4 or 5 years old, and saw a toy donkey in my grandfather's store, which I wanted. I begged and cried for it, but my parents refused to buy it for me. When they weren't looking, I pocketed it. That night, when my mother turned out my pockets before putting my clothes in the hamper, she found the donkey. I was whipped and made to go to my grandfather and apologize, and pay him for the toy.

I recall another occasion at the store when my brother Simpson and cousin John Lindsey caught a field of dry grass beside the store on fire. My grandfather came tearing out of the store and whipped off his apron, and tried to beat out the fire with the apron.

Nights in the store were always pleasant. After the store had closed, my grandparents would retire to their living quarters in the back. This was another large, high-ceilinged room with a doorway covered by a curtain between the living area and the store. In the middle of the room was a stove on a piece of old linoleum, with a dinette set and chairs. Further back in the room were two double beds in which my grandparents slept. My grandmother, who was a wonderful cook, would make delicious dinners on the stove, and at night, we'd eat the leftovers for supper. My grandfather refused to eat anything but milk with cornbread crumbled in it, though, claiming that eating at night made him unable to sleep due to gastric discomfort. My grandmother would wheedle and cajole, threatening to throw the food out, and he'd reply, "It's better in the garbage than in my stomach, Vallie."

I always slept with my grandmother in her large bed, which had a feather mattress into which I would sink down. All night long, a train would pass by, going from Little Rock to Pine Bluff or vice versa, its whistle making a lonesome sound in the distance. In farm fashion, my grandparents went to bed as dark fell, and were up long before daylight. In the morning, they'd move about, speaking very softly so as not to wake me; the smell of coffee brewing and bacon frying would bring me awake in good time, though.

I've heard a number of family stories about my grandfather's early life. At his funeral, his brother Clarence ("Doc") told a number of us about a time when Benjamin Dennis Lindsey was determined to hitch up a stubborn horse to a cart as he prepared to go to town. His mother sat sewing on the porch and watched, as Benjamin Dennis Lindsey would try to hitch the horse and get into the cart, only to have the horse throw him. He repeated this scenario a number of times until he'd forced his will on the horse. His mother was amused at his determination, but did not embarrass him by telling the family why his back was so sore the following day.

Late in my grandparents' life, as we went to a Lindsey family reunion in Coushatta, I can recall our driving past a house north of Coushatta. As we passed it, my grandfather said, "In that house lived 7 of the prettiest gals I ever saw, and I married the prettiest one of them." My grandmother's response was to wave her hand dismissively and say, "Aw, pshaw," an expression she always used when she wanted to pass over some comment.

My father also used to tell me that his father had the nickname of "Ironlegs Lindsey" when he was a young married man, because he had such stamina that he could plow or work all day, and dance all night. A cousin of my father's, J.H. Snead, told me once that when my grandfather came home after working in the fields all day long, my grandmother would often send him out on a long trek to the store to buy something for her.

In some ways, I have always felt that I didn't ever know Benjamin Dennis Lindsey very well. When I was a child, I was intimidated by the men on both sides of my family, and tended to avoid them. Benjamin Dennis Lindsey was also often a very taciturn man who did not express feelings very easily. My memory of my grandparents' relationship was that it was always frosty, with my grandmother irritating my grandfather, and with him scowling and muttering. He was never openly disagreeable, but would often grumble about her demands, which were sometimes vexatious--like her requests that he walk to the store after he got home from a long day of work in the fields.

When I was a teenager, I'd sometimes take my grandfather to the grocery store to buy a list of things my grandmother wanted. She often wanted a very precise kind of cake mix, for instance, and I'd sometimes suggest we buy the same thing in a cheaper brand. When we'd get home, she'd pull it out of the bag and hold the box up, shaking it in my grandfather's direction, and saying, "Now, Dennie, I wanted Betty Crocker and here you bought Pillsbury. You go right back to the store and buy what I wanted." And back we'd have to go.

Because my grandmother could make such demands, my grandfather often claimed to be hard of hearing. We thought that this hearing loss was sometimes selective, since he could hear what he needed to hear. On one occasion, when my aunt Helen was visiting her parents, my grandmother took the cardboard tube from a roll of paper towel and held it to her mouth, saying through it, "Dennie, can you hear me? Can you hear me?!" Benjamin Dennis Lindsey looked up and replied, "If you'd take that fool thing away from your mouth, I might hear you."

I don't recall my grandparents ever showing any overt affection for each other. For as long as I can remember, they slept in separate beds, and had separate bedrooms. My grandfather's bedroom in El Dorado was always a fascinating place to visit. It had a picture of his uncle Dennis, for whom he was named, a colorful character who was sheriff of Place:Bexar, Texas, United States, and a banker there. My grandfather's desk had little crumbs of tobacco in it, which gave it a mysterious, earthy smell. To my recollection, though, he never either smoked or chewed tobacco, and if he drank at any point in his life, I have never heard about it. He was a very abstemious man, and I never heard him utter any kind of foul language at all. If he had a vice, it may have been that, even after marrying, he was what Southerners call a "ladies' man."

Even in his old age, he enjoyed going weekly to the senior citizens' club in El Dorado. My grandmother refused to go, because she would not admit she was a senior citizen. Yet she resented and was suspicious of his motives for going, suspecting he had his eye on some of the widows there. He was once interviewed by the town newspaper at the club, and told his age. This infuriated her, since she absolutely refused ever to tell her own age, and thought that the town could guess her age on the basis of his.

Toward the very end of Benjamin Dennis Lindsey's life, as my grandfather got ready to go the hospital for some tests, my grandmother bustled about the house worried. Aunt Helen asked what she needed. My grandmother turned to my grandfather and said, "Now, Dennie, where on earth have you put your burial policy?" There was no stopping her, though both Helen and Carlton tried to hush her.

Yet when my grandfather died in Feb. 1976, my grandmother immediately began to decline, becoming confused and eventually falling. By the summer of that year, she was in such poor shape that her children Helen and Carlton moved her to San Antonio, where she died on Christmas day the same year. Obviously, the bond between Benjamin Dennis Lindsey and Vallie Lindsey was very deep, if not apparent on the surface.

Since my grandfather was a mystery to me in some ways, I can only guess at what lay under his silence. He was certainly never unkind to me or any other of his grandchildren, nor did I ever see him speak unkindly to anyone, except when he expressed a flash of irritation at my grandmother. But I wonder if there was some bitterness underneath the silence. My aunt Helen has told me that her father often felt that he had greater intelligence than the men he worked under in the oil fields, and felt hampered by his lack of education.

Since Benjamin Dennis Lindsey was raised in circumstances in which he had to work hard on his family's farm from the time he was a small boy, obtaining more than an eighth-grade education would have been very difficult. The public schools in his vicinity, as with most in the rural South, did not go beyond eighth grade.

In many of the Lindsey men over the generations, there's been a touchy pride, and the Lindseys also tend to be people of keen minds and much drive. When these traits are coupled with lack of opportunity, it's little wonder that bitterness would be the result. For men who work at back-breaking work to sustain their families, and who experience the gradual decline of their strength, life must seem often like a losing battle. Having a keen intelligence can even be a liability under the circumstances, since one knows that there might have been other options, given a little money and luck.

Though my grandfather often sat impassive in a chair in his old age, not speaking or expressing emotion, he was also capable of great charm, particularly when he had visitors. When people--especially ladies--visited him, he became another person, solicitous for their comfort, witty, vivacious, a perfect gentleman of the older Southern type. My grandmother Simpson considered him a model Southern gentleman, and liked to be with him very much. Like his father before him, Benjamin Dennis Lindsey was a fastidious dresser. I almost never saw him without a tie and starched white shirt; even on the hottest days, and when he was retired, he dressed daily as if he were going to work.

From family stories I've heard, Benjamin Dennis Lindsey had quite a temper at times, though I didn't see that side of him. My father used to speak about a time when he received a tricycle for Christmas as a boy, and left it in the yard. When his father was walking across the yard, he tripped on the tricycle; he picked it up and threw it against a tree, destroying it. My father said that this convinced him to try to be gentler with his own children (he didn't always succeed, unfortunately).

Benjamin Dennis Lindsey died of nephritis. Since his children Carlton and Helen both developed adult-onset diabetes, Helen thinks that he may have had diabetes for some time before the nephritis was developed. Henry Carlton Lindsey, The Mark Lindsey Heritage(Brownwood, TX, 1982), p. 73, has an obituary for Benjamin Dennis Lindsey, from an 11 Feb. 1976 El Dorado newspaper.

I have pictures of Benjamin Dennis Lindsey from many stages in his life, including a picture that must have been taken around 1916, when he married Vallie Snead. This shows both of them standing in a clearing in a wooded area. Benjamin Dennis Lindsey is wearing what I think is called a union suit, a suit of work-clothes, and a straw hat. This and other pictures suggest to me that he was blond, like his mother, whose hair was blond until her death, according to family stories. Blond hair is also a trait running through the Lindsey line. Like many of the Lindseys, Benjamin Dennis Lindsey also had blue-gray eyes and fair complexion. He was small in stature and in build, like his parents, and always was trim, never over-eating or gaining weight.

Benjamin Dennis Lindsey death certificate

Benjamin Dennis Lindsey, marriage certificate in family bible.

Benjamin Dennis Lindsey, World War I draft registration.

Benjamin Dennis Lindsey, obituary, El Dorado paper

Benjamin Dennis Lindsey, 1950s, Little Rock, Arkansas

Benjamin Dennis Lindsey and Vallie Snead shortly before marriage, June 1916, Coushatta, Louisiana

Benjamin Dennis Lindsey and sons Carlton and B.D.

Benjamin Dennis Lindsey and Vallie Snead with children Carlton, B.D., and Helen, 1957

Benjamin Dennis Lindsey and son B.D., 1950s, Little Rock

Benjamin Dennis Lindsey, in his store, Sweet Home, Arkansas, 1950s.

Benjamin Dennis Lindsey and Vallie Snead, abt. 1970