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- Cloud Family Journal Vol. XIV, No. 2, 45-47
A DARK CLOUD STORY
by Jack Hale, Memphis, TN
Who were the parents of Frank Cloud b. 1898/1900 - d. 1933?
About 1923 (I was 9 years old) this "Frank" appeared in Memphis, a derelict - drunk and irresponsible. At this time he must have been about 23 or 25 years old. He soon became employed as a laborer by my father (Earnest Marion Hale) who was building houses in and about Memphis.
The first incident regarding Frank that I recall vividly was my father's surprising discovery that Frank was sleeping in the various unfinished houses still under construction. This resulted in Frank occupying a 2-room servant's quarters at the rear of our home place where he remained until his death in 1933.
Frank was a quiet person who seldom engaged in conversation, though he would respond hesitantly to direct questions, as though pondering a reply. I came to accept this as a personality trait or self-consciousness about his obvious speech impediment--likely caused by a cleft lip (though it was hardly noticeable).
At this time, I was unaware that I was related to the Clouds, although I did know that Dad would visit occasionally with people named Cloud. However, I do remember Mother casually mentioning to Dad something in regard to Frank and Dad's reply that he was sure he was some kin.
Frank, in working for my dad, was very unreliable in reporting for work regularly. He would disappear for one, two or three days at a time. Dad never seemed to be concerned by this, although, on one occasion, Frank had not been seen or gone to work for about a week. Early one morning, Dad went to his room at the rear of our home and found him in bed completely inebriated-3 empty quart whiskey bottles on the table. Dad called Tom Smith, a negro handy-man for our neighborhood and a friend of Frank's. Tom came and took a look at Frank, then turned to Dad and said, "Mr. Hale, you go on to work; I'll take care of him."
Tom then set a chair in the middle of our back yard, hoisted Frank out of bed on his shoulders, propped Frank in the chair and used our garden hose as a shower for what seemed to be 30 minutes. Frank didn't protest this treatment and gradually revived and looked around in wonder at what was going on.
This incident was rarely mentioned afterwards in our family except to say that Tom stayed with Frank for two days caring for him. Then Frank went back to work as though nothing unusual had taken place. (This was about 1929 or 1930.)
Frank died suddenly in June 1933. It was the day after I returned home from school. Dad had left town that morning on business. Frank worked that morning as a carpenter's helper and it was the carpenter who came to tell us of Frank's death. My mother instructed me to go to his room where I found a burial insurance policy for which Frank had been paying a premium of ten cents. I remember the insurance agent would come every Saturday to collect that ten cents.
We knew of no relatives to notify. Four of Frank's friends as well as my mother, brother and I attended the graveside rites. There was just a prayer.
Several weeks later, Dad, while sorting through Frank's scant belongings, came upon a Bible. He brought it in the house and handed it to my mother who then simply placed it in a book case in Dad's office with many other books.
Tom Smith, the negro handy man, later in talking to my mother, asked if I got Frank's Bible. He then said that Frank had told him that I was to receive his Bible.
When Mother told me this, I immediately went to the book case and removed the Bible. Upon examination, I discovered a pocket on the back cover of the book and removed a two-page handwritten account of something regarding Benjamin Franklin. That was all I read, placed it back in the pocket and laid it aside to read later.
A few days went by and I again looked at the pages tucked in the Bible. The opening lines, transcribed in a well-written hand read, "Excerpt from the journal of Chas. Pinckney of South Carolina, of the proceedings of the Constitutional Convention, of 1789, regarding the statement of Benjamin Franklin at that convention, regarding Jewish immigration. - Original of this copy in the Franklin Institute, Phil." There followed, in words reputed to be those of Franklin, a diatribe on the dangers of the current, unchecked immigration policy. I was amazed and somewhat offended with its contents. A final note at the bottom in the same hand said, "Frank, if this is worth typing a copy for yourself, will you make one for me. I thought you might enjoy reading this, so copied it for you. Sincerely, Mother." I returned it to the pocket and never said anything to Mother or Dad about it.
Frank's origin was never referred to specifically--it was always south Arkansas or north Louisiana. One time he casually mentioned that he was raised in south Mississippi. This remark came about when I told him of a week I had spent in Vicksburg installing a pipe organ. (1928) He asked if I had visited the Civil War Cemetery there. At the time I did not know such a cemetery existed.
One time the police brought Frank home for being drunk in the streets somewhere in Memphis. This was the only time, to my knowledge, that he was in any trouble of any kind. He had not been arrested or confined and the police officers appeared to be relieved of his disposal.
My parents always spoke well of Frank, however pathetic his life seemed. To me though, he never seemed particularly unhappy, depressed or worried. As long as he had the "booze" he would arrive and depart with a casual wave or barely audible greeting and then be alone with himself, reading or sleeping--but disappearing with regularity for several days at a time.
The foregoing is factual and without supposition to the best of my memory. In fact, I wrote this some years ago and tucked it away in Frank's Bible and then dismissed it from my mind, convinced I would never know who "Mother" was. Considering the contents of the two-page document offensive to many people, I decided to let the mystery die.
Now, many years later, having become interested in the Cloud and Hale genealogy, this mystery returns to haunt me. I reprimand myself for attempting to revive the proverbial "skeletons in the closet". However, they abound without solicitation.
The mystery still remains. It may be advisable to "forget it", but, WHO WAS MOTHER?
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1900 - 1933 (~ 35 years)
