A Tapscott Treat - Persimmon Pudding

 

When I was a child, the best of all foods were those of autumn—sweet corn, pumpkin pies, and Persimmon Pudding, made from persimmons picked up below a tree back of Grandpa’s farm just south of Marshall, Illinois. This persimmon tree, our own special persimmon tree, grew alongside a dirt lane leading to the farm belonging to Aunt Fairy and Uncle Billy (who kept pennies in his pockets for us kids and who had an antique phonograph that played cylindrical records), a farm immediately behind White Star Farm. Note that I said that the persimmons were picked up. They were never just picked. Persimmons are very sour and puckery unless they are dead ripe, and the only way to make certain that they are dead ripe is to wait until they fall from a tree. When picked up from the ground, the small, brown, shriveled fruits are nearly as sweet as dried dates, which they resemble. They do not look (or taste) at all like the large, glossy orange things that are sometimes sold as “persimmons” in supermarkets. These are, at best, distant relatives of real Illinois persimmons. I hear rumors that Indiana and other nearby states also have persimmons like those of my childhood, but I never quite believed it. In fact, I question whether real persimmons existed outside of Clark County, Illinois, where our own private persimmon tree grows. I still believe that the only way to get authentic, honest-to-goodness, bona fide persimmons is to gather them yourselves from a Clark County persimmon tree.

Persimmon Pudding is difficult to prepare because the tiny persimmons have to be rubbed through a strainer to remove the seeds before they can be used. And it takes a lot of persimmons and a lot of rubbing to make even a bit of pudding. But each fall, my mother and nearly everyone else in Clark County made brown, cake-like Persimmon Pudding. (Presumably, the other people had their own special persimmon trees.) Persimmon Pudding marked the arrival of autumn, just as snow marks the arrival of winter and daffodils, the arrival of spring. Without Persimmon Pudding, one could not be really certain that autumn had appeared. Falling leaves, pumpkins with frost, and corn shocks were not quite enough to get in the spirit of things. For the people of Clark County and for the Tapscotts and Imles (the other side of the family), Persimmon Pudding heralded the departure of summer, the arrival of autumn, the anticipation of winter, the progress of time. It was not a dessert; it was a sacrament.

I have never forgotten Persimmon Pudding. It was not just that it tasted good, though it did, particularly with farm-fresh whipped cream. It is that I miss that harbinger of autumn. Without Persimmon Pudding, autumn never seems quite like autumn, particularly in Albuquerque, where I now live and where there are few frosted pumpkins and little shocked corn. After Mom died, my brothers and sisters found her handwritten recipe for Persimmon Pudding. They framed it and gave it to me. It now holds a place of reverence on top of a bookcase in our living room, alongside a picture of my brothers and me in sailor suits when we were kids.

Here is the recipe, exactly as Mom wrote it (even with one misspelled word), in case you are ever lucky enough to find real, honest-to-goodness, bona fide, Clark County, Illinois persimmons.

 

Book

 DONE!

It's finished, at least as far as I'm concerned. This has got to be the most interesting, but exceedingly complicated, book I have written. I'm going on to a new family history venture.

I do not plan to make paper copies. If someone else wants to do so, contact me. To get a free electronic copy just click on the link below and then press the download icon in the upper left of the screen. Leave a comment or, better yet, send me an email if you have problems.

Elizabeth's Children - Download

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Questions or comments or complaints or criticism? Email me. There is nothing I like more than discussing family history.

Fauquier County Tapscotts - William, Son of Phil

William, who was born to Elizabeth and “Phil” in Fauquier County around 1820, registered as a free mixed-race person in 1845. He had been born free as mandated by law for children of a free women. About 1851 William married or began cohabitating with Amanda Pinn. This date is indicated since Amanda was living with her mother, Nancy, in 1850, and Amanda and William’s first child was born c1852.

In 1860, William and Amanda were living in Fauquier County with Amanda’s brother Eli Pinn. But by 1870, William and Amanda were settled in their own home in the Cedar Run area. It was there, in Fauquier County, that they raised seven children: Edmond, Chilton, Nancy John Jackson, Amanda, and Catherine.

Amanda passed away around 1871 for on 1 May 1872 in Fauquier County, a widowed William Tapscott married Margaret Proctor, who was also widowed. Margaret was Margaret A. Johnson, widow of Samuel Proctor. Already the mother of nine children (one of whom, Texanna, would marry William’s great nephew, James Henry Martin) Margaret would have three more with William: Bessie, Helen, and Nettie. By 1880 William and Margaret were living separately. William, claiming to be married, was with his children from both marriages (those still living), in Fauquier county. Margaret, with the name “Proctor” and claiming to be widowed, was by herself in the District of Columbia.

On 15 Jun 1895, William died of “dropsy” (an archaic term for edema) in Fauquier County. His son Jack, who did not know the names of his father’s parents, was the informant.

The next few blogs will look at these children.

The book on the Fauquier Co Tapscotts is essentially finished. Right now I'm proofing it. Please let me know if you see what you believe to be errors in the Fauquier County Tapscott blogs since they summarize what's in the book, which I would like as error-free as possible.

Wabash Valley Tapscotts - Alfalfa

Our Gang, later known on television as The Little Rascals, was one of early Hollywood’s most beloved comedy series, capturing the everyday adventures of a ragtag group of neighborhood kids from the 1920s through the 1940s. Created by Hal Roach, the shorts stood out for their natural, unscripted feel and for featuring children behaving like real children—mischievous, imaginative, and often hilariously resourceful. The cast was intentionally diverse for its time, with boys and girls, Black and white children, and kids from different backgrounds sharing the screen as equals. Characters like Spanky, Buckwheat, Darla, and the unforgettable Alfalfa became cultural icons, and the series’ blend of innocence, slapstick, and gentle moral lessons helped it endure long after the original films stopped production. Even today, The Little Rascals remains a nostalgic window into early American filmmaking and childhood humor.

And the Tapscotts have a connection with one of the most recognizable members of Our Gang/The Little Rascals, Carl Dean Switzer, better known as Alfalfa. With his trademark cowlick, off‑key singing, and earnest awkwardness, Switzer created a character who became a cultural icon of 1930s American comedy. Born in 1927 in Paris, Illinois, he and his brother were discovered after performing for the Our Gang cast during a visit to California. Though Switzer’s career never again reached the heights of his childhood fame, his portrayal of Alfalfa left an enduring legacy—an unforgettable blend of charm, mischief, and comedic sincerity that continues to define the series for generations.

And what is the Tapscott connection? It is a non-genetic connection through that scallywag Samuel Tapscott, by means of his daughter Viola. (I must confess that my book Henry's Children, The Tapscotts of the Wabash Valley has the precise connection wrong.)

Connection

Well, I didn’t say it was a close connection.

Fauquier County Tapscotts - Phil

Well, we're down to our final Elizabethan line (sorry for the corny pun) for the Fauquier County Tapscotts, the Phil line.

The name “Phil,” appears in a single record, a marriage register entry for the 1 May 1872 Fauquier County union of William Tapscott and Margaret Proctor. The register gives William’s parents as Phil and Elizabeth, with no last names. Phil’s surname is assumed by many to have been “Tapscott,” but that almost certainly was not his birth name. William’s father was likely a slave since William and his descendants appear to have been at least partially African American.

A slave named “Phil” is known to have lived in Fauquier Co during the early 1800s. From a Fauquier County Minute Book for 1800 and 1801:

The Overseers of Poor of this County are to take the Negro Phil, said to belong to the estate of Joseph Duncan and afford him such support and sustenance as they may deem necessary. The Overseers of Poor shall make inquiry to whom said negro belongs and report back to the Court in order that steps be taken to subject the owner to payments of his expense.

Probate records indicate that Joseph Duncan, who lived in Fauquier County and did own slaves, passed away around September 1793, and his wife, around July 1797. Their slaves were distributed to their children, one of who was Joseph Duncan Jr. And in 1806 Joseph Jr. is known to have had land lying in the Cedar Run area, where the Tapscott lands would one day be. Might Phil have somehow or other ended up with Elizabeth?

Was there a Phil? Perhaps. There was certainly a male progenitor of one of Elizabeth’s lines whose name could have been “Phil.” We’ll take a look at some of “Phil’s” descendants during the next several blogs.