Kitty, or Kit, as she was affectionately known by family, was the third of nine children born to John Vance and Jane Hanby, most of them on the family farm near Industry, Pennsylvania. John later moved his family across the river to Hookstown, where Kitty went to school and was classmates with her future husband, Newton Caleb Whims. In 1862, during the Civil War, John moved the family again, this time to Kansas, a trip they appear to have taken mostly by river: down the Ohio, up the Mississippi, and then up the Missouri to Atchison, Kansas, where they disembarked and proceeded west, by wagon, to their new home in Pottawatomie County. It was there, in Myers Valley, that Kitty married Newt on October 11, 1865. They settled in Pottawatomie County, where Kitty gave birth to five children, the first of whom, Willie Arctus, died in infancy. In August 1886, Newt and Kitty moved their family to California, first to San Diego and then to Escondido, where Newt was postmaster for about six years and a regent of the Methodist seminary, which became Escondido High School in 1894. In 1899 they moved again, to Los Angeles, where the two remained the rest of their lives.
In an unfinished history of the Vance family Newt started writing near the end of his life, he wrote this about his wife:
"Glaphyra Ketura Vance was born on the 10th of April, 1843 near the town of Industry, Beaver County, Pennsylvania. She was the second child of John and Jane Vance. There were seven children born in this family who lived to maturity; one died in infancy. The strange, peculiar names of these eight children rarely, if ever, have a parallel in the same family. Their eccentricity becomes more noticeable when we consider the extreme simplicity of the names of their parents. Their names in the order of their birth are as follows, viz. Termuthias Jane, Glaphyra Ketura, Bassema Selene Theta, Malancthon Cranmer, Monica Keren-Happuch, Nitocrus Leodice, John Erasmus Montgomery. The little girl who died in infancy was named Aretus Epenetus. Five girls and two boys, each of which we will speak [of] in their order, later.
The subject of this sketch first saw the light on the old Vance farm on the top of the Ohio River hill about one half mile north of the town of Industry, where her father, and probably all his brothers and sisters, were born. It seems that this farm had been in the home of the Vance family for many years. It was one of the good farms of the county. Father Vance took great pride in keeping it in good condition. It had much fine timber and was underlaid with a splendid stratum of bituminous coal, which found a ready (though scarcely remunerative) market in Beaver and other towns on the river.
About the year 1857-8, Father Vance disposed of this fine farm to one Charles Schreiner and received in exchange 400 acres of wild land in the State of Wisconsin, a smaller and cheaper farm on the south side of the Ohio River about a mile and a half from the town of Shipping Port, known as the Alex. Gibb farm, and also several thousand dollars in some kind of corporation bonds, which subsequently proved worthless.
Before moving to the south side of the river, 'Kitty Vance' as she was then called (all the Vance children had 'nick' names, for no one could take the time to pronounce those long names, even if they knew how) attended the district school on her father's farm and was present on one occasion when the roof of the school house took fire from a defective flue, resulting in the entire destruction of the house, together with school books and furniture.
She evidently made good use of her time during her earlier years in school, for by the time she had reached the age of 13 or 14, she rarely met her equal in orthography and was frequently proclaimed champion in the spelling contests, which were common in those days.
Shortly after the removal of the family to their new home on the Gibbs farm, she entered the district school in the old school house, at the foot of the Minesinger hill on the road which runs from Shipping Port to Hookstown. One of her first acquaintances here was her class-mate, the writer's sister, 'Sade.' A friendship was then formed which has continued uninterruptedly, for almost a half century. This friendship possibly had something to do with the 'deeper friendship' which had its birth a few weeks later, when the writer had finished his 'fall work' on the farm and entered school and took his place in the same class. How soon after entering school did Cupid's wand begin to wave we cannot recall, but this we do remember–that from the very first day we had the impression that that little blackheaded Vance girl, with the unpronounceable name, was a pretty nice piece of femininity. Being near the same age and degree of advancement, we were consequently in the identically same classes, neither taking up any study which the other did not. A peculiar feature of this was that for several terms, we two, alone, constituted the advanced class in Geography, and the dread of the consequences of imperfect lessons was largely neutralized by the anticipated pleasure of sitting, with my little sweetheart, in the recitation seat, with our heads real close together searching out the difficult and obscure places on the large single atlas, which we were then allowed to use. Our 'friendship' was recognized not only by the entire school, but by many of our teachers as well.
A custom prevailed, in those days, of giving evening spelling contests, which were termed 'spelling schools.' These contests were given, sometimes, as often as once or twice a month and were anticipated with a great deal of pleasure by the larger pupils of the school. It was customary in preparing for these contests, for the teacher (or sometimes by popular election of the school) to [preciously?] choose captains, whose ability it was, on the evening of the contest, to divide the audience into two equal sides, by alternately choosing spellers. For obvious reasons, I suppose, this duty was universally almost assigned to 'Newton and Ketura,' as our dear, sweet teachers used to call us. No small part of the pleasures of these Spelling Schools was the 'going home with the girls.' It very frequently happened that some ambitious but luckless swain met the very opposite of pleasure when he gallantly but politely offered his arm to the lady of his choice, and with his heart in his mouth whispered in her ear, 'May I have the pleasure of seeing you home tonight?' to receive the polite but positive answer, 'No Sir, I thank you.' This we called 'getting the mitten.'
These were happy childhood years. Little did we anticipate the dark clouds which even then hung over the land and the deluge of blood which was soon to follow."
In an unfinished history of the Vance family Newt started writing near the end of his life, he wrote this about his wife:
"Glaphyra Ketura Vance was born on the 10th of April, 1843 near the town of Industry, Beaver County, Pennsylvania. She was the second child of John and Jane Vance. There were seven children born in this family who lived to maturity; one died in infancy. The strange, peculiar names of these eight children rarely, if ever, have a parallel in the same family. Their eccentricity becomes more noticeable when we consider the extreme simplicity of the names of their parents. Their names in the order of their birth are as follows, viz. Termuthias Jane, Glaphyra Ketura, Bassema Selene Theta, Malancthon Cranmer, Monica Keren-Happuch, Nitocrus Leodice, John Erasmus Montgomery. The little girl who died in infancy was named Aretus Epenetus. Five girls and two boys, each of which we will speak [of] in their order, later.
The subject of this sketch first saw the light on the old Vance farm on the top of the Ohio River hill about one half mile north of the town of Industry, where her father, and probably all his brothers and sisters, were born. It seems that this farm had been in the home of the Vance family for many years. It was one of the good farms of the county. Father Vance took great pride in keeping it in good condition. It had much fine timber and was underlaid with a splendid stratum of bituminous coal, which found a ready (though scarcely remunerative) market in Beaver and other towns on the river.
About the year 1857-8, Father Vance disposed of this fine farm to one Charles Schreiner and received in exchange 400 acres of wild land in the State of Wisconsin, a smaller and cheaper farm on the south side of the Ohio River about a mile and a half from the town of Shipping Port, known as the Alex. Gibb farm, and also several thousand dollars in some kind of corporation bonds, which subsequently proved worthless.
Before moving to the south side of the river, 'Kitty Vance' as she was then called (all the Vance children had 'nick' names, for no one could take the time to pronounce those long names, even if they knew how) attended the district school on her father's farm and was present on one occasion when the roof of the school house took fire from a defective flue, resulting in the entire destruction of the house, together with school books and furniture.
She evidently made good use of her time during her earlier years in school, for by the time she had reached the age of 13 or 14, she rarely met her equal in orthography and was frequently proclaimed champion in the spelling contests, which were common in those days.
Shortly after the removal of the family to their new home on the Gibbs farm, she entered the district school in the old school house, at the foot of the Minesinger hill on the road which runs from Shipping Port to Hookstown. One of her first acquaintances here was her class-mate, the writer's sister, 'Sade.' A friendship was then formed which has continued uninterruptedly, for almost a half century. This friendship possibly had something to do with the 'deeper friendship' which had its birth a few weeks later, when the writer had finished his 'fall work' on the farm and entered school and took his place in the same class. How soon after entering school did Cupid's wand begin to wave we cannot recall, but this we do remember–that from the very first day we had the impression that that little blackheaded Vance girl, with the unpronounceable name, was a pretty nice piece of femininity. Being near the same age and degree of advancement, we were consequently in the identically same classes, neither taking up any study which the other did not. A peculiar feature of this was that for several terms, we two, alone, constituted the advanced class in Geography, and the dread of the consequences of imperfect lessons was largely neutralized by the anticipated pleasure of sitting, with my little sweetheart, in the recitation seat, with our heads real close together searching out the difficult and obscure places on the large single atlas, which we were then allowed to use. Our 'friendship' was recognized not only by the entire school, but by many of our teachers as well.
A custom prevailed, in those days, of giving evening spelling contests, which were termed 'spelling schools.' These contests were given, sometimes, as often as once or twice a month and were anticipated with a great deal of pleasure by the larger pupils of the school. It was customary in preparing for these contests, for the teacher (or sometimes by popular election of the school) to [preciously?] choose captains, whose ability it was, on the evening of the contest, to divide the audience into two equal sides, by alternately choosing spellers. For obvious reasons, I suppose, this duty was universally almost assigned to 'Newton and Ketura,' as our dear, sweet teachers used to call us. No small part of the pleasures of these Spelling Schools was the 'going home with the girls.' It very frequently happened that some ambitious but luckless swain met the very opposite of pleasure when he gallantly but politely offered his arm to the lady of his choice, and with his heart in his mouth whispered in her ear, 'May I have the pleasure of seeing you home tonight?' to receive the polite but positive answer, 'No Sir, I thank you.' This we called 'getting the mitten.'
These were happy childhood years. Little did we anticipate the dark clouds which even then hung over the land and the deluge of blood which was soon to follow."
Kitty, or Kit, as she was affectionately known by family, was the third of nine children born to John Vance and Jane Hanby, most of them on the family farm near Industry, Pennsylvania. John later moved his family across the river to Hookstown, where Kitty went to school and was classmates with her future husband, Newton Caleb Whims. In 1862, during the Civil War, John moved the family again, this time to Kansas, a trip they appear to have taken mostly by river: down the Ohio, up the Mississippi, and then up the Missouri to Atchison, Kansas, where they disembarked and proceeded west, by wagon, to their new home in Pottawatomie County. It was there, in Myers Valley, that Kitty married Newt on October 11, 1865. They settled in Pottawatomie County, where Kitty gave birth to five children, the first of whom, Willie Arctus, died in infancy. In August 1886, Newt and Kitty moved their family to California, first to San Diego and then to Escondido, where Newt was postmaster for about six years and a regent of the Methodist seminary, which became Escondido High School in 1894. In 1899 they moved again, to Los Angeles, where the two remained the rest of their lives.
In an unfinished history of the Vance family Newt started writing near the end of his life, he wrote this about his wife:
"Glaphyra Ketura Vance was born on the 10th of April, 1843 near the town of Industry, Beaver County, Pennsylvania. She was the second child of John and Jane Vance. There were seven children born in this family who lived to maturity; one died in infancy. The strange, peculiar names of these eight children rarely, if ever, have a parallel in the same family. Their eccentricity becomes more noticeable when we consider the extreme simplicity of the names of their parents. Their names in the order of their birth are as follows, viz. Termuthias Jane, Glaphyra Ketura, Bassema Selene Theta, Malancthon Cranmer, Monica Keren-Happuch, Nitocrus Leodice, John Erasmus Montgomery. The little girl who died in infancy was named Aretus Epenetus. Five girls and two boys, each of which we will speak [of] in their order, later.
The subject of this sketch first saw the light on the old Vance farm on the top of the Ohio River hill about one half mile north of the town of Industry, where her father, and probably all his brothers and sisters, were born. It seems that this farm had been in the home of the Vance family for many years. It was one of the good farms of the county. Father Vance took great pride in keeping it in good condition. It had much fine timber and was underlaid with a splendid stratum of bituminous coal, which found a ready (though scarcely remunerative) market in Beaver and other towns on the river.
About the year 1857-8, Father Vance disposed of this fine farm to one Charles Schreiner and received in exchange 400 acres of wild land in the State of Wisconsin, a smaller and cheaper farm on the south side of the Ohio River about a mile and a half from the town of Shipping Port, known as the Alex. Gibb farm, and also several thousand dollars in some kind of corporation bonds, which subsequently proved worthless.
Before moving to the south side of the river, 'Kitty Vance' as she was then called (all the Vance children had 'nick' names, for no one could take the time to pronounce those long names, even if they knew how) attended the district school on her father's farm and was present on one occasion when the roof of the school house took fire from a defective flue, resulting in the entire destruction of the house, together with school books and furniture.
She evidently made good use of her time during her earlier years in school, for by the time she had reached the age of 13 or 14, she rarely met her equal in orthography and was frequently proclaimed champion in the spelling contests, which were common in those days.
Shortly after the removal of the family to their new home on the Gibbs farm, she entered the district school in the old school house, at the foot of the Minesinger hill on the road which runs from Shipping Port to Hookstown. One of her first acquaintances here was her class-mate, the writer's sister, 'Sade.' A friendship was then formed which has continued uninterruptedly, for almost a half century. This friendship possibly had something to do with the 'deeper friendship' which had its birth a few weeks later, when the writer had finished his 'fall work' on the farm and entered school and took his place in the same class. How soon after entering school did Cupid's wand begin to wave we cannot recall, but this we do remember–that from the very first day we had the impression that that little blackheaded Vance girl, with the unpronounceable name, was a pretty nice piece of femininity. Being near the same age and degree of advancement, we were consequently in the identically same classes, neither taking up any study which the other did not. A peculiar feature of this was that for several terms, we two, alone, constituted the advanced class in Geography, and the dread of the consequences of imperfect lessons was largely neutralized by the anticipated pleasure of sitting, with my little sweetheart, in the recitation seat, with our heads real close together searching out the difficult and obscure places on the large single atlas, which we were then allowed to use. Our 'friendship' was recognized not only by the entire school, but by many of our teachers as well.
A custom prevailed, in those days, of giving evening spelling contests, which were termed 'spelling schools.' These contests were given, sometimes, as often as once or twice a month and were anticipated with a great deal of pleasure by the larger pupils of the school. It was customary in preparing for these contests, for the teacher (or sometimes by popular election of the school) to [preciously?] choose captains, whose ability it was, on the evening of the contest, to divide the audience into two equal sides, by alternately choosing spellers. For obvious reasons, I suppose, this duty was universally almost assigned to 'Newton and Ketura,' as our dear, sweet teachers used to call us. No small part of the pleasures of these Spelling Schools was the 'going home with the girls.' It very frequently happened that some ambitious but luckless swain met the very opposite of pleasure when he gallantly but politely offered his arm to the lady of his choice, and with his heart in his mouth whispered in her ear, 'May I have the pleasure of seeing you home tonight?' to receive the polite but positive answer, 'No Sir, I thank you.' This we called 'getting the mitten.'
These were happy childhood years. Little did we anticipate the dark clouds which even then hung over the land and the deluge of blood which was soon to follow."
In an unfinished history of the Vance family Newt started writing near the end of his life, he wrote this about his wife:
"Glaphyra Ketura Vance was born on the 10th of April, 1843 near the town of Industry, Beaver County, Pennsylvania. She was the second child of John and Jane Vance. There were seven children born in this family who lived to maturity; one died in infancy. The strange, peculiar names of these eight children rarely, if ever, have a parallel in the same family. Their eccentricity becomes more noticeable when we consider the extreme simplicity of the names of their parents. Their names in the order of their birth are as follows, viz. Termuthias Jane, Glaphyra Ketura, Bassema Selene Theta, Malancthon Cranmer, Monica Keren-Happuch, Nitocrus Leodice, John Erasmus Montgomery. The little girl who died in infancy was named Aretus Epenetus. Five girls and two boys, each of which we will speak [of] in their order, later.
The subject of this sketch first saw the light on the old Vance farm on the top of the Ohio River hill about one half mile north of the town of Industry, where her father, and probably all his brothers and sisters, were born. It seems that this farm had been in the home of the Vance family for many years. It was one of the good farms of the county. Father Vance took great pride in keeping it in good condition. It had much fine timber and was underlaid with a splendid stratum of bituminous coal, which found a ready (though scarcely remunerative) market in Beaver and other towns on the river.
About the year 1857-8, Father Vance disposed of this fine farm to one Charles Schreiner and received in exchange 400 acres of wild land in the State of Wisconsin, a smaller and cheaper farm on the south side of the Ohio River about a mile and a half from the town of Shipping Port, known as the Alex. Gibb farm, and also several thousand dollars in some kind of corporation bonds, which subsequently proved worthless.
Before moving to the south side of the river, 'Kitty Vance' as she was then called (all the Vance children had 'nick' names, for no one could take the time to pronounce those long names, even if they knew how) attended the district school on her father's farm and was present on one occasion when the roof of the school house took fire from a defective flue, resulting in the entire destruction of the house, together with school books and furniture.
She evidently made good use of her time during her earlier years in school, for by the time she had reached the age of 13 or 14, she rarely met her equal in orthography and was frequently proclaimed champion in the spelling contests, which were common in those days.
Shortly after the removal of the family to their new home on the Gibbs farm, she entered the district school in the old school house, at the foot of the Minesinger hill on the road which runs from Shipping Port to Hookstown. One of her first acquaintances here was her class-mate, the writer's sister, 'Sade.' A friendship was then formed which has continued uninterruptedly, for almost a half century. This friendship possibly had something to do with the 'deeper friendship' which had its birth a few weeks later, when the writer had finished his 'fall work' on the farm and entered school and took his place in the same class. How soon after entering school did Cupid's wand begin to wave we cannot recall, but this we do remember–that from the very first day we had the impression that that little blackheaded Vance girl, with the unpronounceable name, was a pretty nice piece of femininity. Being near the same age and degree of advancement, we were consequently in the identically same classes, neither taking up any study which the other did not. A peculiar feature of this was that for several terms, we two, alone, constituted the advanced class in Geography, and the dread of the consequences of imperfect lessons was largely neutralized by the anticipated pleasure of sitting, with my little sweetheart, in the recitation seat, with our heads real close together searching out the difficult and obscure places on the large single atlas, which we were then allowed to use. Our 'friendship' was recognized not only by the entire school, but by many of our teachers as well.
A custom prevailed, in those days, of giving evening spelling contests, which were termed 'spelling schools.' These contests were given, sometimes, as often as once or twice a month and were anticipated with a great deal of pleasure by the larger pupils of the school. It was customary in preparing for these contests, for the teacher (or sometimes by popular election of the school) to [preciously?] choose captains, whose ability it was, on the evening of the contest, to divide the audience into two equal sides, by alternately choosing spellers. For obvious reasons, I suppose, this duty was universally almost assigned to 'Newton and Ketura,' as our dear, sweet teachers used to call us. No small part of the pleasures of these Spelling Schools was the 'going home with the girls.' It very frequently happened that some ambitious but luckless swain met the very opposite of pleasure when he gallantly but politely offered his arm to the lady of his choice, and with his heart in his mouth whispered in her ear, 'May I have the pleasure of seeing you home tonight?' to receive the polite but positive answer, 'No Sir, I thank you.' This we called 'getting the mitten.'
These were happy childhood years. Little did we anticipate the dark clouds which even then hung over the land and the deluge of blood which was soon to follow."
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