August 17, 2023

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Bellefonte: In the Shadows of the Ancestors

by Hassan Ansah, Guest Blogger

August 17, 2023

 

It was a rainy Sunday evening over 35 years ago in Atlantic City, New Jersey, that I sat down next to my grandmother, Eunice Thompson Eberhart, and asked about her childhood. She had always been very vague and aloof whenever the topic was brought up. Nana sat back in her cinnamon toned rocking chair and gazed out the window quietly stating, “I was born near Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, and my family all died in a fire.”

That was the end of the conversation. I was given the same information that both my mother and aunties received. The question that lingered in my mind was how was she the only one to survive? Didn’t Nana have other relatives? If so, why didn’t she keep in touch? There was always a dark cloud of ambiguity and secrets that Grandma would take to her grave. Little did she suspect that her grandson would carry an insatiable drive to find out the truth, particularly to things related to the past, history, and my ancestors!

After snooping around and inquiring with everyone that I thought could offer valuable information about her side of the family, I finally was able to make a connection: My grandmother’s aunt Mary Thompson. I found out that Aunt Mary was still alive and resided in Harrisburg. She was a retired nurse, single, and had no offspring.

I can recall the nervous awkwardness of our first conservation. She was receptive and polite, yet reserved and soft-spoken. I introduced myself as Eunice Thompson’s grandson from Atlantic City and wanted to connect with her to find out more about this side of my family. She gave me a brief, “uuha” sound and then began to recollect any information that she could recall at the time. She stated, “My mother’s name was Annie Thompson, and father’s name was James Thompson. Your grandmother’s father was my older brother Edward. I believe that my father was originally from Virginia, but now I’m not sure. As a child I loved science and I studied hard to become a nurse. That was my life, nursing. I’ve always loved healing people, helping people, got that from my mother. I really didn’t know your grandmother that well. After the terrible fire, she moved away.” 

I could feel the appreciation from Aunt Mary’s voice, yet I also sensed that there was a slight form of dementia that might have clouded her memory. Nevertheless, it was surreal to finally be able to converse with someone on this side of the family. As the fall came, I went back to university and became immersed in school projects, relationships, and other activities that consume us in our late teens and early twenties. 

A year later, I would try to reconnect with Aunt Mary only to find that she had passed away. I can clearly remember feeling both grief, guilt, and a strange sense of gratitude for her spirit allowing me to at least connect with the oldest and last remaining relative on the Thompson side of the family.

As time passed, my passion for historic ancestral research evolved from my immediate family ties to a much wider global interest. I eventually became an international journalist and documentarian working with the United Nations. This allowed me the chance to visit, work, and live on the African continent for more than five years on and off. My work allowed me to visit over thirteen countries in Africa and the highlight of this would culminate with a memorable sojourn to Ghana’s Elmina slave castle.

A medieval monument from the past, it stood as a cruel reminder of the human capacity for deep malice and barbaric treatment towards each other. A faded fortress surrounded by both the beauty and anger of the Atlantic Ocean. A still feeling of sadness enveloped me. My mind raced a thousand miles, yet there was a faint disconnect, a distant removal of tangible feelings. This experience touched my head more than my heart.

Hassan Ansah (on left) poses with a friend at Ghana’s Elmina Castle.

Two years later, genetic testing companies burst on the scene: Ancestry.com, 23andMe, African Ancestry, etc. I became a kid in the candy store! After my visit to the slave castles of Ghana, I was very curious in finding my African ethnic ancestry. I was able to use the genetic testing kit on my maternal side. After waiting two and half months, the results had finally come back. I can remember opening the package in great anticipation: “Was this ancient female ancestor from the Ashanti tribe, Ibo, Ewe, or Bambara? Slowly peeling back the paper, it read: “Your maternal ancestral lineage connects to western Europe.” 

I was in shock. It seemed that I had solved one mystery only to give birth to another. After doing research I found that there are many branches to our genetic family tree, and this was only one. I sought out more DNA testing companies and found one that would triangulate your entire genetic ancestry, not just your maternal or paternal sides. This new testing site not only gave me a DNA profile but found old birth, death, and marriage certificates. 

As I started my research, my Nana’s side of the family revealed themselves as if they were still alive. It started with my great-grandmother Elsie Green and her husband Edward Thompson. From there I found my great-great-grandmother on this maternal side, Mrs. Jessica Jackson. She was listed as a Mulatto (mixed race) and was adopted. This confirmed the information on the African Ancestry test! As more information and ancestors began to appear they each shared one thing in common: a residence in Bellefonte, Pennsylvania. 

Bellefonte natives Elsie Green Thompson (1888-1918) and Edward Andrew Thompson, parents of Eunice Thompson Eberhart (1912-2000). Portraits courtesy of Hassan Ansah.

I then found out everything I could about this small yet inscrutable town. Located in the heart of Pennsylvania, its history was rich and multi-layered. Located close to a major university town, yet hiding in plain site, it seemed to lay at the crossroads of the state. It would be a crossroads that I had to explore.  

My next move was to contact the Union Cemetery of Bellefonte. I searched the website and was amazed at how organized and lucid the content was structured. I had an instant feeling of compassion and concern from the folks that worked here. I left a message about my research and interest in finding tombstones of my lost relatives and received a call back the next day from one of the volunteers, Renea Nichols. Renea was not only articulate and informative, but also very welcoming and down-to-earth. 

A month later I booked my flight and traveled to Bellefonte for the first time. On entering the town, I had an odd sense of déjà vu. It was an old Victorian town which seemed to be caught in between: The past and the future, conservatism and progression, the living and the dead. The next day Renea picked me up in her Jeep and off we went to the Union Cemetery. To my surprise, she took me directly to the colored portion of the cemetery where I was able to find the entire side of the Thompson family. The first stone head read: James Thompson and wife Annie Thompson, with a list of all their children: Edward, Harry, Albert, Warner, Mary, and Florence. The experience was surreal. After years of research that often led to dead ends, here I was looking at the very roots of my family tree. People that I had never met, yet have felt so close to.

 

Hassan Ansah visits Bellefonte, June 2023.

Renea then slowly guided me to another side of the cemetery where the American Legion was organized. There I found the tombstone of my great-great-great-grandfather Moses Jackson who fought with the Colored Troops of the Union Army of Pennsylvania during the Civil War! His headstone was immaculate and next to it was the American flag. All the other male relatives had also been part of the U.S military, with three of them fighting with the Buffalo Division of Colored Troops in WWI. Being a veteran myself, I felt extremely proud. 

Renea then introduced me to some of the people who help keep the Union Cemetery functioning at such a high level. I was introduced to the wonderful volunteer and excellent researcher Phil Ruth, actor and scholar Charles Dumas, and his wife Joe. Any sense of being a stranger in this town quickly dissipated as I was welcomed with open arms by a very engaging, insightful, and sincere community. 

Later that day, Renea drove me around to other historically significant areas of Bellefonte, such as the old AME church which acted as the heart of the Afro-American community there. Many believe that the first AME church on that site was a stop on the Underground Railroad, and that Fredrick Douglass also spoke there. Thanks to the wonderfully sharp eye of Phil, I was able to find a picture of my great-great-grandmother Annie Lawson Thompson taken in 1938 in front of the church. She was almost an exact image of my grandmother Eunice Eberhart.

 

Hassan was able to recognize his great-great-grandmother Annie Lawson Thompson (1855-1947), widow of James Thompson (1850-1935), in a group photo taken beside the St. Paul AME Church in Bellefonte on May 18, 1938. Photo courtesy of the Centre County Historical Library. The image has been digitally enhanced and colorized.

There was also the Bellefonte Art Museum, housed in an old Quaker home containing what many believe to be a hiding room for runaway slaves. Next on the list was the research library downtown, where I was able to find an old yearbook photo from 1921 of my great-aunt Mary whom I had spoken with many years back. I had a list of old addresses that many of my descendants lived that I wanted to explore: 124 E. High Street, 112 N. Penn Street, which is now only an empty lot, and the corner house on Ridge and High Streets where my grandmother was born and survived a terrible fire.

Mary E. Thompson, youngest daughter of Annie and James Thompson, posed with her violin and fellow Bellefonte High School orchestra members for the 1920 La Belle yearbook, then sat for her senior photo in the 1921 yearbook.

As I mentioned earlier, Bellefonte is a city of deep contrast and a crossroads of sorts. Amid all of my historical family research and community connecting, I would receive a call at 1 p.m. on June 27 that my father had suddenly passed away back in Phoenix, Arizona. I was in a mini-state of shock, yet I felt strangely comforted being in such a rooted place. I was unable to get an emergency flight until the next day, so I went on a walk along the creek which runs through downtown. The sun was setting, and a gentle breeze blew on my face as if my ancestors were whispering to me. 

I’ve been blessed to travel to over 51 countries and almost every state in the Union, however my time spent in Bellefonte will forever have left an indelible connection in my heart and mind, and that has thus far been more personally moving than any other travel experience. 

I think of the ancient African folklore that speaks of the Sankofa bird returning to its past to retrieve an important lesson, connection, and sense of wonder. It wasn’t on the exotic shores of West Africa that I would find this, but in the quiet understated crossroads of Bellefonte, Pennsylvania, that I would learn to walk in the Shadows of the Ancestors.

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