“Gracie Jenks Lester Wadsworth, Rhododendron, North Carolina” © Stu Jenks 2020 51 inches tall.
This wall piece is not for sale. It resides in the collection of the artist. However the piece can be lent out to be shown.
Richmond, VA, circa 1910. Photographer Unknown.
Gracie is technically my 1st cousin once removed, but I call her Aunt Gracie.
She is also the victim of a terrible Jenks family secret.
Her mother was my great aunt Bertie Jenks Lester, my grandfather Papa Edgar Jenks' sister.
Frank and Ella Jenks, my great grandparents had four children, William, Edgar, Frank Jr., and Bertie. Everyone lived in Richmond Virginia after the turn of the century. When the events of this tragedy occurred, all the Jenks kids were adults.
Much of the following story I gathered with the help of my friend Brad, plus some data from Ancestry.com, a little creative supposition on my part, and more than a little criticism from me. You'll see. I have strong feelings about what I'm about to describe.
So here goes.
In 1914, Gracie was 3 years old, her brother Jimmy was six. Her mother Bertie Jenks had married James Lester at some point but it appears he had abandoned her and his two kids and he was long gone. I've never found anything on James Lester Sr.
Bertie was raising Gracie and Jimmy on her own, working as a laundress in Downtown Richmond.
At some point, Bertie fell in love with Richmond police Sgt. Philip Neisz. Here's where I have to guess about. Was it love or was it an affair? I don't know, but I'm going with love. Sgt. Neisz was married. I'm guessing he promised to leave his wife but didn't. It appears the affair had being going on for a while. I'm guessing too they met when Philip dropped off his uniform to get cleaned at the laundry where Bertie worked.
Just before April 6th, 1914, Bertie made a fatal error. She mailed a letter to Neisz' wife, telling her about the affair. When Neisz got home from work that day, his wife confronted him, He went into a blind rage, grabbed a bottle of chloroform, a rag and his gun and went to Bertie's apartment where Jimmy and Gracie also lived. He burst throw Bertie's door and began to punch her in the face. A neighbor came out and tried to stop him. Neisz then pulled and raised his pistol and murdered my grand aunt Bertie. He then turned to gun on himself and killed himself. It was big news in the Richmond Times-Dispatch for days. Sadly but not unexpectedly, they blamed Bertie for her own murder.
From the Richmond Times-Dispatch, April 7th, 1914
OK, that's sad enough, but here's the real fucked up part of the story.
As a kid, when we buried my grandfather Papa Edgar, I saw Bertie's grave along with Frank and Ella's. I asked my father what he knew of Bertie. I was curious because she died at the very young age of 27.
"I don't know. She was either married to a cop or was murdered by a cop. I don't know," said Dad. I believed Dad then and I believe Dad now. I think his father Edgar never said anything, because of the family shame that had happened when Edgar was a young man.
According to records, both Gracie and Jimmy was put in separate orphanages in Richmond, Virginia. There is no record of their grandparents, Frank and Ella, doing anything on their behalf. There is not record of their one aunt and three uncles having anything to do in the lives. Records show Gracie was in her orphanage and Jimmy was in his until they became adults, and all of her murdered mother's family lived for years and years in Richmond, literally just down the street.
Death Certificate of Bertie Jenks Lester.
Jimmy, Gracie's brother, married twice and died in 1991. He had no children. I never knew he existed. I know very little about him. There is a rumor from a family member that he might have contacted an aunt of mine at one point, stating that his sister Gracie had been a prostitute, but my gut feeling is that's bullshit. Maybe Gracie dated a number of men. Maybe she had a drinking problem. Maybe Jimmy was making shit up. I don't know, but I don't believe Gracie was a whore.
Gracie married Harry Berstein in 1938 when she was 27, divorced him in 1941 and married William B. Wadsworth Jr. in 1948 when she was 37 years old. She had no children with either man. She stayed married to Mr. Wadsworth until his death in 1980. Gracie died on June 3, 1994 at the age of 82. She is buried next to her husband in a military cemetery in Wilmington, North Carolina.
The grave of Grace Lester Wadsworth, Wilmington National Cemetery, Wilmington, North Carolina (c) 2020 Stu Jenks.
That's the facts as I know them. Now, my feelings.
What the fuck?
I'm angry that my great grandfather Frank and my great grandmother Ella abandoned their only two grandchildren at the time to separate orphanages.
I'm angry that Frank and Ella nor Papa Edgar told us they even existed.
I'm angry that it appears that no one, none of their uncles or their aunt, ever visited them in their orphanages.
I'm angry and really sad that I was alive and an adult before Gracie died in 1994. I could have visited her. I could have told her about her mother's family. I could have apologized to her in person for the despicable behavior of her grandparents and her extended family. My family. I could have gotten to know her.
The best I could do was to make her a wall piece in her memory.
And to visit her grave in Wilmington last Christmas.
We had a nice chat. I profusely apologized for my fucked up ancestors. I told her I wish I had gotten to know her. I told her I'm sorry my family abandoned her.
And that I would tell her story, as I know it.
So I have. Right here. On the internet. I omitted most family members names who were not guilty of anything, but I have identified some family by name who are guilty as hell.
I'm rubbing my face and shaking my head as I type this.
Fuck.
I really don't think my father knew anything. The secret was kept by his father and Dad's grandparents, not by Stuart. I'm pretty sure if he had known of the existence of his cousins he would have sought them out. He's not guilty of anything I believe.
But Frank, Ella, Edgar, Frank Jr., Mahalah and William are guilty of abandoning their kin to the turn-of-the-century orphanage system in Richmond, Virginia. They were all adults when their sister Bertie was murdered. They had to know about her kids and they did absolutely nothing to help those little kids or to be in their lives.
Nothing. Not a God damn thing.
I wish I could wrap up this story on a happy note but I just don't see any silver lining. Except me visiting Aunt Gracie's grave and me making her a stick, but that is very cold comfort.
She and her brother Jimmy were family that were hidden from me. Airbrushed out of the photographs of my family by people who appeared to not give a sweet god damn.
I'll say this: Gracie, again, I'm sorry for my screwed up family and for what they did and didn't do. I'm sad I never met you. I wish I could have told you about your mother's family and I wish you knew I was family.
I never knew you Aunt Gracie but I love you. I truly do.
I'll come and visit your grave at least once a year from now on, since I now live in North Carolina. Maybe at Christmas time.
I'll see you soon, Gracie.
#auntgracie, #stujenks, #extendedfamilyseries, #familyshame, #bertielesterjenks, #familysecrets