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| Biography written by Sherry Carver, grand daughter of Aunt Harriett. Charlie & Harriett Stinnett Ratledge/ Rutledge married 21-Jun-1903, Blount County, TN. He listed a Charles Ratledge, later spelling was changed to Rutledge. Aunt Harriett was one of the few children of Edna Yearout that never carried the Yearout surname. She is listed in the 1900 Blount County census in the household of her mother Edna, as Emma Stinnett, born October 1884, age 15, single, cotton mill spinner. I have not yet been able to locate them in any other census by either Ratledge or Rutledge. I do know that they moved to NC and lived there in the 1950s. Uncle Charlie left and Harriett remained with her daughter Emily, until her death 01-Mar-1964. Harriett is buried in Gaston Memorial Cemetery, Gastonia, NC. Her death record lists parents as William & Edna Yearout Stinnett. Aunt Harriett was well loved by all of the family. I remember many visits with her. Children were: 1. Laura Edith Rutledge 06-Mar-1911 - 4-Dec-1979 +William Joseph Tuck 2. Andrew "Drew" Rutledge 3. Emily Rutledge 1920 - 24-Mar-1973 +Johnny Carver 18-Nov-1908 - 27-Feb-1970 1. Sherry Carver 2. Karen Carver |
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| She was born Harriett Emmeline Stinnett on October 14, 1884, one of seven children born to Edna Yearout .. Little is known of her early life except that she married Charles Cannon Rutledge at an early age, and bore seven children of her own, four of whom died in infancy. Harriett was not formally educated but could read and write well enough. She was poor by anyone's standards, but spoke with an Elizabethan dialect which hinted of old money. I didn't know the high spirited young girl pictured in the kidd gloves and a riding habit with a throughbred horse. By the time of my birth in late 1949, my grandmother was a little old silver haired lady, with wire framed glasses and a kind word for everyone she met. I can see her now, her long silver hair perfectly twisted in a bun at the back of her neck, seated in the left pew from the front of the little Baptist church, wearing pearl earrings and clutching a white lace handerchief, her arms raised in praise. The unanimous recollection of her by anyone in her extended family with a memory past 1964 is "I remember Aunt Harriett, she was always good to me". Harriett was a precious saint, whost trust was in the Lord, whose faith never wavered through years of poverty and abuse. She lived a hard life, but her faith sustained her in a way that too few of us will ever understand. She probably never stood as tall as five feet even before her tiny body became stooped and bent from arthritis and osteoporosis from years of hard labor in a cotton mill. She began work in the mills at the approximate age of nine, prior to the passage of child labor laws. She told of standing on a crate to reach her frames, and of children being spanked by a supervisor after misbehaving on the job. As a young mother she pulled double shifts to feed her children, and those of her brother after the death of his wife. Charlie Rutledge personified the image of tall, dark and handsome, being mostly Cherokee Indian descent. He was abusive to Harriett and probably did her a favor when he left her to raise her childen on her own. It was decades after their divorce, that he summoned Harriett to his death bed. I sincerly hope that she was able to guide him in prayed to the resolution he sought. He knew that if anyone could - it was Harriett. She never held grudge and she never turned away a stranger. Even through the dark days of the great depression, she was willing and eager to share all she had to a passing stranger, young old, black or white. She cautioned us that any one of them might be an angel in disguise. We learned at her knee, to love our fellowman and trust in the Lord. She told the story of the "infidel" who lived nearby. He severly critized a woman because he could hear her praying through an open window for God to meet her needs, and just to show her that there was no God, made a list of her request for groceries, purchased them and threw them through her open window. As she as thanking God for answering her prayers, her nighbor advised her that it was he who had met her needs, and not some higher power. Her reply was, "Oh, the Lord sent them alright, the Lord will always send me what I need, even if he has to send it by the devil!" And so He does. My Grandmother taught me to clean a house as if we were preparing to do surgery, not sparing the Clorox and hot water. I've washed many a dish 3 times until I got it right - cleanliness being next to Godliness. She could calm your fears with a gentle touch of a loving hand or spin you a chilling tale of bushwhackers and "haints", as the need arose. Likely based on Scotch Irish folklore, her "haint" tales ranged from the legendary hounds of hell to a headless murder "witness" observed by judge, jury and defendant, through an open courthouse window, on a hot day. When her pleas for calm behavior fell on my deaf ears, she could always achieve the desired results by the time "it" (Bloody Bones, that is) was on about the third step. Being none-the-less the saint for it, she had two pseudo vices which she preferred to remain in the closet - her snuff box and cheating the "Old Maid" in a hand of solitare. She made sure Lady Luck was always on her side, especially when the Old Maid was safely hidden in her sewing box. Her deck of Old Maids were so well marked, she studied the hand of her opponent better then her own. She loved road trips, family reunions, sliced barbecue and black walnut ice cream. Her favorite song was "Precious Lord, Take My Hand." Harriett spent her last days by the window, reading her well worn Bible and creating exquisite needlework. It was Saturday, on the last day of February 1964 that she laid her head on her pillow and began to pray for each and every member of her family, immediate and extended, from the oldest to the youngest. She asked for the grace and blessings of God to follow each one, then fell asleep in the arms of her Saviour. Her prayers have sustained us through these many years, as we have seen the blessings for which she petitioned come to fruition in our own lives. Harriet has found that shining city on a hill, and her faith lights a path for us to follow. YES, HARRIETT WAS, AND IS A SAINT. |
| The Three Daughters of Edna Yearout Mary Alice Willix-Lillie Romines-Harriett Rutledge |
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