In the summer of 1912, James Furman Poole, called Furman by his family, had a more complicated visit to North Carolina than he expected. As the 3 July 1912 edition of the Laurens Advertiser noted, his intention was to attend the wedding of James A. Poole:

Mr. Furman Poole left last Friday [June 28] for Benson, NC to attend the marriage of his cousin James A. Poole of Clinton [SC] and Miss Dora Hodges.

James Augustus Poole was the son of William Augustus Poole (1854-1928) and Mary Duval. He was Furman’s second cousin.

On Monday July first, Furman’s father Thomas Pitts Poole received a message:

Mr. T. P. Poole was summoned to Columbia [SC] on the early train Monday morning to meet his son, Furman, who was taken seriously ill with an attack of appendicitis Sunday morning in Benson, N. C. He will be brought here for an operation.¹

However, the plan changed, and Furman remained in Columbia for his surgery:

Misses Grace and Fannie Poole and Foster Cromer spent last Thursday [July 11] in Columbia with Mr. Furman Poole who is in the city hospital. He is improving rapidly and expects to return home soon. This will be delightful news to his many friends and relatives.²

“Misses Grace and Fannie” were two of Furman’s sisters: Grace (1892-1966) and Mary Frances (1894-1979).

Apparently Furman indeed was “improving rapidly”, since the 28 August 1912 issue of the Laurens Advertiser reported that Furman was definitely over his illness:

“Misses Lila and Nannie Clark and Mr. Furman Poole are visiting Miss Ora Miller at Easley [SC]. The party went through the country in an automobile and anticipate much fun.”³

 

James Furman Poole (c. 1890- 1973) is my father. The “Like Father, Like Son” title comes from the fact that decades later, while on a business trip to OH, I was hospitalized with appendicitis. Unlike Thomas Pitts, my wife, who had a very young daughter to care for, declined the generous offer of a plane ticket to OH from my employer. My hospital visitors were my in-laws from KY.

And, finally, my recovery was demonstrated by a boring return to work, not by me riding through the countryside in an automobile full of young women.