Catfished at a Family Reunion

…or, rather, catfished AFTER a family reunion.

Most of my ancestors have stayed right here in South Carolina and lived within a couple of hours drive of where I now live. That makes genealogy a bit easier for me. Especially on my mother’s side you just have to head down to the Greenwood-Abbeville-Edgefield-Saluda area (AKA, the Old 96 District) and you will run into a slew of my ancestors.

One of those is the Ouzts branch of our family. Dietrich Utz, born in Germany in 1726. At the age of 40 in 1766 he came to South Carolina and settled with his family in the old 96 District. Back in 2012 we were able to find the old Utz-Ouzts cemetery in Edgefield County and a monument to Dietrich and his family on Highway 378 across from McKendree Methodist Church.

While doing research on what we discovered that day I came across a website for the Ouzts Family Association for descendants of Dietrich Utz. I also found out that they hold an annual reunion in August for members of the Outzs family.

I had been wanting to attend a reunion but it seemed there was always a conflict. When I was working it was always the beginning of the school year. Later, it was kayaking or trips out west that conflicted with the reunion. This year Tropical Storm Debby cancelled my paddling plans for the weekend and our trip out west was delayed by illness and home remodeling. The timing was perfect to finally attend the Ouzts Family Reunion.

For years the reunion was held at McKendree Methodist in the heart of Ouzts country, then at nearby Hickory Knob State Park. Lately the event has been moved to Ninety-Six First Baptist Church. For me this was closer and near to other family haunts that I could visit either before or after the event.

I e-mailed the organizers and got a bit more information and learned that there would be a family meeting followed by a covered-dish lunch. My contribution would be my chicken and rice dish from The One Burner Gourmet cookbook. It could serve as a side dish or a meal on its own. Friday afternoon I cooked up a big batch.

Saturday morning I loaded up my food contribution and enough camera and audio gear to produce a National Geographic special and headed on down. Houston and Glynda would drive over from Georgia and meet me at the church. At least I’d have someone I knew there in case it got weird.

I got down to Ninety Six in plenty of time. It had been a long time since I’d been down here. I drove by my grandparents’ old farm and continued into town, reaching the church in plenty of time. The meeting was in the gym and they had long tables and chairs set up. There I signed in and registered my family relation.

I introduced myself to a couple of the folks in attendance. The officers of the association were seated at a table at the front. They were expecting me from my earlier e-mails. I was given a printed family sheet for my immediate family with a request to update and make corrections as necessary. I decided to pass that task off to Houston since his wife, Lynda, has all of our family records.

I was also given a program with the day’s agenda. There was to be a business meeting at 11:30 followed by lunch. The rest of the program pages were filled with those that had passed away during the previous year. From the looks of the business meeting agenda, these folks took their genealogy seriously.

Houston and Glynda arrived and we struck up more conversations about how we fit in with the Ouzts family, many of them with much more information about our ancestors. Some of them didn’t have much information, but had just been attending the reunion as an annual event.

It was time for the business meeting. It started with the Pledge of Allegiance and included a reading of last year’s minutes and recognition of those that had passed. The treasurer’s report was the most contentious, which also tied into another agenda item about getting a historical marker for the Ouzts cemetery. It seemed some, one person in particular, was upset that there wasn’t enough money for a marker and wanted money transferred from the cemetery upkeep fund or genealogy book fund. Others complained about potential placement of the marker. One comment was that they didn’t know why we were putting an expensive marker out in the woods where no one would see it. I had my own opinions, but as a newbie I kept quiet. These issues were tabled until the reunion next year, which irritated others.

New board members were elected (after even more questions), then it was time for recognitions. These included the following:

• Oldest member present – age 84
• Youngest member present – age 4
• Member who traveled the furthest distance – Glynda, since she claimed residence in Florida
• Members attending their first reunion – the three of the Taylor siblings, me, Houston, and Glynda
• Members who attended the very first reunion in 1929 – none present
• Members who attended the most reunions – I forgot to count

After this there was a roll call of descendants. We raised our hands when they got to the family of George Ouzts, our great-great-great grandfather. This also seemed to be the largest group in attendance. In all, there were about 40 at the reunion. Judy Long, president of the association, said that there were almost 70 last year, so the numbers were down this year.

It was time for lunch. Houston and I said that it was just like the many after church covered dish meals we had attended. There was food aplenty. Yes, there were deviled eggs and lots of potato salad.

At lunch there was more genealogy talk. Many of those in attendance were from Ninety Six and were members of First Baptist. Many knew friend and fellow paddler Larry Easler, who grew up in that congregation. They were also familiar with my mother’s family, the Ellenbergs.

After lunch it was time for photos. We gathered by family groups. Houston, Glynda, and I joined the descendants of George Ouzts for our photo, but there were others.

It was a great gathering, despite the contentious business meeting. I just wish that there had been more time for socializing and less time spent on the meeting. Even so, I met some great folks with excellent information on our family’s history. We shared contact information and promised to keep in touch.

My plan for post-reunion was to head down to the Ninety Six Historic Site and see if they had any information about the ghost town of Cambridge. I was doing research for an upcoming podcast episode on Carolina Ghost Towns, and was hoping to get some audio from one of the rangers. Houston and Glynda decided to follow me down to the site.

It was terribly hot and humid, too miserable to walk the trails around the old Star Fort. The young ranger said that they only information they had was out on the interpretive signs, which I had already seen. I asked if they had any books, and all they had were the general history books on the fort, and not on the town. Finally, I asked if they knew where the fort’s cemetery was located. Again, I got a hedged answer. They sort of knew where it was. I wanted to know because another of my ancestors, Samuel Campbell Clegg, had been hanged at Star Fort and was buried in that cemetery.

Having struck out, Houston and Glynda wanted to drive back up to the Ellenberg home place. It looked like the site had been cleared a bit since my last visit, but it was still overgrown. There were still old trees that were probably there when my grandmother lived here. Of course, the house is long gone. We thought about walking the site, but the heat and Posted signs kept us in our cars.

We parted ways and Houston and Glynda headed back to Georgia. I decided to take a meandering route back home. This is where the catfishing part comes in. I found myself in Ware Shoals. I kind of wanted to see how the Saluda River was doing after the recent storms, so I drove by the namesake shoals. Surprisingly, there were lots of folks in the park next to the shoals and in the water, despite the high levels.

I headed into the town itself and found myself in a festival. There were pavilions set up around Katherine Hall, the central building of the village. There was a small midway with rides and games on the south side of the hall. A sign proclaimed that this was the Ware Shoals Catfish Festival. I called Laura to inform her that I’d be a little bit later getting home. I had to check it out.

I found a parking place near the festival and walked over. There were lots of food options, but there didn’t seem to be many people at the festival. On the lawn in front of the hall was a bandstand. A musical group seemed to be packing up, having just finished playing. There were artisan booths lining the lawn next to the hall.

There wasn’t much activity at all at the carnival rides. It all seemed a bit…sad. The carnies would run the rides without anyone on board just to generate attention. The whole thing seemed a bit creepy.

One of the things that struck me was the preponderance of barbecue food trucks and trailers. When I got home I learned that this was not the main Catfish Festival, which takes place in May, but a festival that focuses on barbecue.

I also learned that this was the end of a three-day event. Things were winding down, which kind of explains why there weren’t many people there. To add to the feeling of gloom, heavy clouds threatened. After returning to my car and driving a couple of blocks the skies opened up and heavy rains came down. I felt sorry for those at the festival that were still set up, hoping for last minute customers.

On a final note, my trusty Subaru Outback, Rambulus IV, turned over 170,000 miles. I took it in for extensive service earlier this week and I’m hoping to get another 170K out of it.