Finding Mary: Dead ends and revelations

My search into my mother’s past included invaluable help from a guide — my “search angel” Lisa Ann Fanning, who was able to identify my mother Mary Francis Hunt Matthews’ father.

After three Kepleys appeared as my genetic second cousins on Ancestry.com, we verified the man we were searching for was Charles Everett Kepley, the great-grandfather of these second cousins.

I reached out to one of the Kepley cousins and his mom and Liz Kepley responded. Liz had been married to a grandson of my newly-found grandfather who turned out to be the father of a Kepley cousin — thereby establishing my connection to Charles Everett Kepley.

Liz Kepley was wonderful. She was unselfish with her time and interested in my search.

Charles Everett Kepley was born in Davidson County, N.C., and graduated from Lenoir-Rhyne University. He graduated from the Lutheran Seminary in Columbia, S.C.

I learned more about my grandfather after contacting the Crumley Archives at the seminary, as well as the National Archives for the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America. Their researchers shared the assignments Charles was given and at what churches he served. They did not say he was ordained as a Lutheran minister.

It seems my grandfather sold used encyclopedias and Bibles less than 10 years after graduating, even though he studied to be a minister. The company he founded, Success Education, became a profitable business selling educational materials.

Although he died in 1990, my grandfather had two sons — my mom’s half-brothers, who were still alive and living in Roanoke, Va.

I shared this information with Liz, who was intrigued by the information and was shocked and surprised to learn Charles Everett Kepley had been trained to be a Lutheran minister.

She offered to reach out to my mom’s two half-brothers and see if she could set up a phone call or meeting. They adamantly refused. Liz said “they probably think you are after their money.” I was appalled to say the least. I responded that is not the type of people my mom raised!

I reached out to the churches where my grandfather spent some time. The only church that acknowledged him was St. Mark’s Lutheran Church in Roanoke. That church shared with me the information it had and was most willing to assist in the future if necessary. My grandfather had been a parishioner there for 40 years, but church representatives didn’t think he was ordained. They also said I was welcome to visit them.

After 18 months of research and planning, the first stop on meeting my mother’s family would be in Roanoke.

I must say that Bobbi Jo,* whom I initially reached out in my search, tried to insinuate herself into this Roanoke portion of my trip. However, after she told me that we would have to go knock on the door of my mother’s two half-brothers and demand they meet with us, I declined. I never caved into her attempts to be added to this part of my journey after her inappropriate comment concerning African Americans and slavery.

On Oct. 24, 2021, I arrived in Roanoke after a circuitous route from Boston through Chicago, Ill. During this flight I thought about this grandfather I had never met.

The irony of the Virginia tourism and travel slogan, “Virginia is for Lovers” stuck in my mind. Under what circumstances had Charles Everett Kepley’s baby — my mom — been born and adopted? Did he have any relationship with my mother’s biological mom? Did he know what he had left behind? Did he care?

Certainly, no love there!

On my first day in Roanoke, I went to visit St. Mark’s Church, a beautiful old church with what appears to be a vibrant community life. While parking, I noticed it also ran a food bank to assist the community. The bank’s staff later mentioned to me that the church sponsors immigrant families and assists them in getting settled into the community.

I liked these folks already.

The church secretary Kathy showed me around, allowed me to take photographs and made me feel welcomed. Shortly thereafter, the church historian, George, whom I came to meet, arrived.

His last name was similar to my grandfather’s last name but, as I was to find out, I couldn’t imagine two more different people. This 93-year-old gentleman began to tell me what he knew about Charles Everett Kepley.

They were in the same Bible class for years. Charles was a part of that church for 40 years and, until we talked, George never knew Charles had been ordained!

He handed me the paper proving Charles’ ordination that he had just received from the Lutheran Church. He was shocked to find out, after all these years, Charles had been an ordained Lutheran minister.

What happened to prevent Charles from being given his own church? George said Charles owned a lot of rental property and a lot of land outside of the city. He gave me the contact information of two other people who knew my grandfather and urged me to reach out to them.

Finally, I asked him what kind of person my grandfather was. He paused, looked me in the eye, and said with disgust, “Your grandfather never missed an opportunity to let people know how much money he had!”

I followed up with the people George recommended that I contact, and what I learned was troubling. The picture that was painted described a slumlord with no respect for his tenants’ living conditions.

On my next two days in Roanoke, Liz Kepley gave me the tour of Kepley acreage outside of the city — the family home that Charles Everett Kepley had built which resembled a castle — and gave me contact information for her ex-husband. I called and he responded.

He asked, “What took you so long to look for your mother’s family?” and asked for proof of how we were related. I told him we had been looking for that information since before my mom passed in 2015, and I offered to sit with him and show him my Ancestry.com information that proved that connection. He refused to meet with me.

I shared this experience with Liz about her ex-husband and my conversation with him. She was not surprised.

Liz FaceTimed her three children, all in their 20s, and I had the joy of talking with them. During each of these conversations, Liz pointed out all of our ears. She said, “Look, you all have Kepley ears.” I am hopeful that Liz and her children will accept our invitation to come to Lynn and meet with us and celebrate with us next summer.

Ironically, I would not be alive without Charles Everett Kepley. I am glad genetics do not determine what kind of person you are or become.

I became a tourist leaving Roanoke. I went to Appomattox where Robert E. Lee, the commander of the Confederate Army of Northern Virginia, surrendered to Ulysses S. Grant, commander of the Union Army. I left there wondering why this conflict didn’t end there. Over 150 years later we still seem to be somewhat mired in the same hatreds.

This was brought to a fuller view with my next stop in Charlottesville, Va. Charlottesville had been the site of the “Unite the Right” rally where a white supremacist ran his car over those who were protesting against the Ku Klux Klan and other extremists.

One young woman was killed and many more were injured. It turns out I was traveling through Charlottesville on the first day that the extremist organizers of that rally were on trial at the federal courthouse.

These white nationalist extremists were cut from the same cloth as the people former President Donald Trump referred to when he said “there were fine people on both sides” of the bloody Jan. 6 attack on the United States Capitol. The organizers of the Charlottesville rally were later found guilty and ordered to pay millions of dollars.

My next two days were spent in Maryland, although I hadn’t originally planned to stop there. However, I changed my plans after I spoke with my 84-year-old second cousin, Sam.

Sam mentioned he was in poor health and was disappointed that I wasn’t going to visit him in Maryland, because he did not know if he would still be here if I waited another year to visit, given his failing health. So I changed my plans.

I realized it was important to both of us to meet as we shared a meal near his home. I came to understand how different this was from the Kepley uncles and cousins who refused to meet.

Sam and I had a very strong desire to break bread and get to know each other — two cousins who had spoken by phone several times but met in person for the first time.

Sam was a mechanical engineer by trade and worked on all the Apollo missions for NASA. We talked about our children and other important things we shared in life. I told him about my experiences in Roanoke and what I learned about my grandfather.

He repeated that Charles was the first cousin of his mother. He said “I wasn’t going to tell you, but my mother told me that her first cousin Charles Everett Kepley was not a nice man.”

By the time I left my lunch with Sam I understood that this is how cousins should treat each other.

My last stop in Maryland was with my cousin Sofia.* We spoke of how we could assist Bobbi Jo in releasing her thousands of records, which would hopefully allow Sofia to uncover her family connection with Bobbi Jo.

Sofia’s enslaved ancestors could be found in Bobbi Jo’s ancestors’ wills, which show the passing down of slaves to younger generations. I shared my plans with her that for the next three weeks I would be in South Carolina and with Bobbi Jo.

Sofia shared with me the draft of the book she has been writing on her ancestry search. I hope that she is able to share this compelling family story. So far, she has 17 chapters written and thousands of hours of documented research.

*The writer has used a pseudonym for privacy purposes.

NEXT: It’s the end of October. I am bound for Charleston to see Bobbi Jo and to be in the place of my mother’s birth. I am on the search to Find Mary!