Old Olney: The Bulldozers

In 1923, Mrs. Clara Mae Downey purchased the Mt. Olney farm in Olney, Maryland, intent on converting the old Granville Farquhar home into a country restaurant, to be called Olney Inn. Clara Mae Downey is a bit of a mystery, herself, and most historical references will lead a researcher back to her role as Olney Inn’s owner. One apocryphal story refers to a fateful day when, out for a drive in the country, Mrs. Downey, a businesswoman and socialite, suffered a flat tire near the Mt. Olney farmhouse. The story goes on to suggest that, while waiting for some local young men to fix her tire, she enjoyed the view of the old farmhouse, and the feel of the crossroad village, and envisioned the Olney Inn.

Following on the success of her new restaurant, Mrs. Downey became something of a guardian angel to Olney’s rural community. She purchased Little Olney, the old Canby/Farquhar home, from which the village had eventually taken its name, and when the local Grange organization decided to sell their hall, next door to Little Olney and on the southeast corner of the crossroad intersection, she purchased that building as well.

Francis Hawkins was a son of the old village. His father had been the village wheelwright, before motorized trucks with rubber wheels replaced horse-drawn, wooden farm wagons, and a local homebuilder after. As a young man, Francis imagined he might like to make his living in the retail grocery business. Made aware of Francis’ aspirations, Clara Mae Downey offered to help him into the grocery business in the former Grange Hall. Mrs. Downey even afforded the young Hawkins some time to work at another local grocery first, to be certain this was the career he wanted. Francis Hawkins accepted Mrs. Downey’s offer, happened to meet his future wife while working at the other store, and chose the grocery business for his future. Francis’ father renovated the old Grange Hall #7 to serve its new purpose and, in 1937, Francis, and his brother Oland, opened Olney Foods.

Olney FoodsOlney Foods
Drawing by Barbara Hails ◦ ©1981
courtesy of Hails Art Gallery ◦ www.hailsartgallery.com

(unauthorized use or reproduction will be prosecuted)

 

By the spring of 1978, any attempts to save the old buildings clustered tightly around the old Olney crossroad had been exhausted. Four buildings that had housed a succession of Olney’s old, rural businesses were condemned by Maryland’s State Highway Administration. Three of those buildings were scheduled for demolition in early May.

The forge at Finneyfrock’s blacksmith shop was first lit in 1885. At that time, the blacksmith was Reuben Hines. Passed from Hines to his son-in-law, Joseph Finneyfrock, and then from Joseph Finneyfrock to his son, Dudley, the old forge burned, almost constantly, for about 92 years. By late May of 1978, Finneyfrock’s forge was cold, and the smithy would be the first of the old village’s core businesses to be bulldozed. It was then, after the rapidly expanding Olney community had fought to preserve its quaint, crossroad village and lost, that the buildings themselves put up the final struggle.

Finneyfrock's Blacksmith Shop Finneyfrock’s Blacksmith Shop
Drawing by Barbara Hails ◦ © 1981
courtesy of Hails Art Gallery ◦ www.hailsartgallery.com
(unauthorized use or reproduction will be prosecuted)

 The day front-end loaders and bulldozers destroyed Finneyfrock’s blacksmith shop was windless and warm. The actual demolition was scheduled for the early afternoon, and I, in school until 2:30, was not present. When I did arrive, promptly after the end of the school day, Finneyfrock’s was a pile of splinters being loaded into the back of a dump truck, but there was something strange about the situation. On approaching the scene, I noticed the sun seemed to dim a little, as if there was some barely detectable gloom hanging over the old crossroad.As it was explained to me later; the first demolitions on Finneyfrock’s old building were accomplished by a front-end loader. The driver of that piece of equipment began his work by lifting the pan of the loader high, and attempting to push the structure down from a high point. He placed the wide bucket against the front gable of the building, wound up the big diesel engine and slowly began pushing. Suddenly, the bucket punched through the wooden siding of the gable. The driver hesitated and, as he did, a black cloud of forge soot, almost a century’s worth, began rolling out of the hole in Finneyfrock’s gable, quickly becoming thick enough to both stop work and temporarily darken the sun. None of this stopped the inevitable. As I’ve already noted, when I approached the scene Finneyfrock’s was splinters, and the gloom I detected was the ghost of Finneyfrock’s old forge, dissipating, slowly, on a windless spring day.Later the same week, came the day when both Albert Murphy’s tinsmithing shop and home were demolished in the morning, and Dr. Alvin Berlin’s Olney Drugs was demolished later in the afternoon. It was another school day, but this time, if I hustled, I could be there in time to see the destruction of the old drug store. I hustled, and, as I arrived, I immediately spotted someone familiar in the backyard of the vacant lot, where Murphy’s had been just the day before.

Both Murphy’s and the old Olney Drugs building were first built as homes, during the 19th century. The building on the southeast corner of the Olney intersection, Murphy’s, had been built in 1892 by Michael Murphy, a tinsmith. To that home was added a “tollbooth”, from which Michael Murphy would also be responsible for collecting tolls on the old Washington-Brookeville Turnpike, today’s Georgia Avenue, and a shop, from which he, and then his son Albert, would ply their tinsmithing trade for the better part of a century. For how rural the old crossroads was, Murphy’s was a large, sprawling presence, on the southeast corner, for a very long time.

Murphy's Tin Smith Murphy’s Tin Smith
Drawing by Barbara Hails ◦ © 1981
courtesy of Hails Art Gallery ◦ www.hailsartgallery.com
(unauthorized use or reproduction will be prosecuted)

By the time I arrived on the scene, Murphy’s was completely gone, but the stories were already going around of how another of the old buildings had “fought back”. According to witnesses, it was well after the actual demolition that Murphy’s made its final gesture of defiance. The building had been shoved to the ground, again by a front-end loader, and then crushed to splinters for loading onto dump trucks. However, as the first truck backed in to be loaded, it dropped one of its rear wheels into Mr. Murphy’s septic tank and became stuck. The incident didn’t interrupt work for long, but it was enough… another act of defiance, and as each mishap befell the minions of the State Highway Authority, Olney residents could hardly disguise their amusement.

The building that had, by 1978, been Olney Drugs for a quarter-century, was built during the Civil War. Since that time, it had been used for a number of purposes. First a residence for the Barnsley family, who arrived in the area in the early-1800s, the old building would serve many other purposes over the years. Before becoming Olney Drugs, the old home had been a dry goods store, a general store, and a boarding house. As Olney Drugs, the building included a small lunch counter and grill, which became something of a local hang-out for Olney’s old-timers. In anticipation of the condemnation of his old building, Dr. Berlin moved Olney Drugs, the business, across the street from his old location, into a space in Olney’s first shopping center. When he made that move, “Doc” included a small luncheonette, with some table seating, at the back of his new store. Despite Dr. Berlin’s best efforts at retaining the feel of his old business, Olney’s old-timers never made the new Olney Drugs, and its small luncheonette, their new hang-out.

Olney Drugs Olney Drugs
Drawing by Barbara Hails ◦ © 1981
courtesy of Hails Art Gallery ◦ www.hailsartgallery.com
(unauthorized use or reproduction will be prosecuted)

As I arrived in Olney that day, hustling over after school, I could see that the old drug store was still standing and there, across the street in “Murphy’s backyard”, were my mother and Dr. Berlin. They explained the earlier delay and, with some time left before the work began on Olney Drugs, they continued chatting, while I assessed the new look of the intersection, sans Mr. Murphy’s buildings.

When time came to begin the destruction of Olney Drugs, the demolition contractor took a different approach to the one he’d used on Finneyfrock’s and Murphy’s. I don’t know whether it was because of the third-storey on the building, or whether it was just that much more substantial of a building, but this destruction was attempted by having the front-end loader shove the whole building, from a window frame on the first floor.

My mom, “Doc” Berlin and I stood quietly watching, as the front-end loader was directed to a spot on the east side of the building, to the right of what had been Olney Drug’s front door. The loader operator placed the pan of the loader against the upper edge of a wide, metal-framed window that had been installed when Doc converted the building into his drug store, and at that point the big machine began pushing and lifting at the same time. The building resisted for a few moments, being still quite sturdy so low to the ground, but then, slowly, began to slump away from the front-end loader. As the building slowly tumbled away from the front-end loader, and the operator continued to shove, almost imperceptibly, the rear-end of the big piece of destruction equipment began to lift off the ground. That motion didn’t stop until the whole thing had toppled forward into the old building’s basement. Within moments, the loader operator climbed angrily out of his predicament, ranting about not knowing there was a basement. Dr. Berlin, possessed of a rare, dry wit, turned to my mother and I, and said, “If I had known he wanted to go to the basement, I would’ve shown him where the steps were.”

Olney Drugs demolitionOlney Drugs’ last moments. (Notice the rear-end of the
front-end loader rising, in the second and third frame.)

At last, the deed was done. In just a few long days, in May of 1978, progress ripped the core out of an old rural farm village, only to replace it, later, with asphalt. Francis Hawkins’ Olney Foods actually survived for most of the next year, while Mr. Hawkins mounted some successful legal challenges to the condemnation. In an unfortunate turn, he also found himself in a struggle with the Olney community itself, over what he could or could not do with the awkward, leftover portion of his land. Mr. Hawkins’ best opportunity was to sell the property to Exxon, for use as a “Gas and Go” gas station, but the flood of suburban newcomers, who had both ruined and tried to save old Olney, couldn’t possibly abide a Gas and Go station at the heart of their community. It didn’t really matter anyway. By that time, it was all about money, paper and principles. None of it was actually going to save old Grange Hall #7 or Mr. Hawkins’ forty year old business. Olney Foods succumbed to demolition in the spring of 1979.

In 1999, Francis Hawkins penned an essay for the Sandy Spring Museum. In it, he tells his own Olney story, in which, out of four pages of text and photos, only the final paragraph mentions the events and issues that led to old Olney’s demise. He concluded his memoir, “All this changed in 1978. That year, the bulldozers growled in to widen the intersection. They erased the heart of the village—Murphy’s tinshop, Doc Berlin’s drugstore, Soper’s, Armstrong’s, Finneyfrock’s old blacksmith shop, our DGS. Fortunately Olney House remains, with its beautiful springhouse marking the headwaters of James Creek. But I still hear the dozers, and when I look at pictures of the old buildings, it still hurts.”¹

Coming soon… Old Olney: Ickes

___________________________________________________________________

¹ Francis Hawkins, “Olney: What A Difference 80 Years Make!,” in Thomas Canby, ed. The Villages of Sandy Spring, (Sandy Spring,MD: The Sandy Spring Museum, 2009), 14.

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35 Comments

Filed under General, History, Olney

35 responses to “Old Olney: The Bulldozers

  1. Billy Andrews

    Cool pieces Andy. I lived on Cashell from’73 to ’79 and I remember the old buildings.

  2. Jeff Carolla

    Neat history,

    I actually grew up almost across the street from you at 17508 Princess Anne Drive. I remember your brother Jeb and your mom and dad. I think that your dad and my brother were in a Scottish band together. I think your dad played bagpipes. I used to work at Olney Inn and at Olney Drugs and I used to fish Ickes Pond in the 1960s and early 70s before going off to UMCP. Cool history. There were a lot of fires in old abandoned buildings in the area.

    Jeff Carolla

    • Thanks, Jeff. I sure remember you. Your brother was Jack? I’m not sure they were ever in the same band, but my father did play tenor drum for the Washington Scottish Bagpipe Band. Who did your brother play with? You probably recall, as much as anything, our housewarming party, where the whole band played and marched around the house a few times to “bless” it. After that, it was probably thoroughly christened with beer.

      I’ve been a little tardy in getting out Old Olney: What’s Left, but really should get to it, because the one after that is going to be Old Olney: Ickes.

      Thanks for reading!

      Andy

  3. Sandie Hoover Kinsinger

    Andy, I stumbled upon your Olney series via the Magruder ’80 Facebook page. I grew up in another of the subdivisions (Olney Village) that helped to seal old Olney’s fate. Sad. I live in Iowa now–in a small town that mixes old and new in the same way you’ve described Olney in the late 60s/early 70s. Progress moves a bit slower here, so maybe we can hold off the threat of development for a while. Thanks again for the reminiscences. You have such a nice writing voice! -Sandie

    • How nice to hear from you, Sandie. It’s been a very long time, but I can still picture your face. Thank you, very much, for reading my stories and commenting. I’m very glad you enjoyed them. Please share them with any others you might feel would be interested. Andy

  4. Doug Bree

    Cool narrative Andy. I lived on Wachs Court in Olney Square in the southwest corner of Bowie Mill and 108. My Dad bought the house in ’72. I remember Olney Drug getting razed. From where my brother and I were standing, we didn’t see the loader go into the basement.

    I was, however, late getting to work at the old Carvel Ice cream shop due to the spectacle and almost got fired.

    I can hardly wait for your stories about Ickes… I sprained many a joint on that ice, playing pickup games of hockey.

    • Lisa

      Doug, I worked at Carvel during the ’78/’79 school year. I found one in Jacksonville about eight years ago, and was almost bowled over by the aroma… it smelled EXACTLY the same. Unfortunately, by the time I was able to take my children, it had closed. We finally found one last summer and they loved it.

  5. Liz Hancock Brooks

    Thanks for devoting your time and energies to this project. I weep to read your account of the death – or rather murder – of Olney. I had no idea when I left for college in 1967 that I would never again see the village of my childhood and youth. In a way, I’m glad I wasn’t there to have to live through it. But it is like having your past erased. Thank you for sharing your narrative talents to help resurrect those memories.

    • You’re very welcome, Liz. My fascination with the history of the area was born about two years ago, and these posts represent my first interest, which were to reconcile my sometimes hazy, sometimes sharp, but always youthful recollections of the Olney of my childhood with the historical facts of the time. I’m so glad you enjoyed them, and although there’s been a very long delay, there are more on the way.

      • Joe Peet

        Andy,

        We REALLY need to do a lunch and trade stories then! Seems we share a love for Montgomery and its small towns that had their own character before they all were assimilated into the Borg

  6. Caroline Higgs

    I remember the day the Olney Inn burned down… I was riding the bus home from school…..:(

  7. Heather Gibson

    My grandfather was Dudley Finneyfrock Sr. I never lived in Olney, but I grew up spending my summers there. I remember the “new” Olney Drugs, and definitely remember Dr. Berlin. I would accompany my grandmother to the drugstore to have breakfast with her friends most mornings, and my grandpa would meet us there. I remember shopping for hair bows at a store in the Olney House, and also having lunch at the Olney House when I was in my teens, where we would also meet my grandpa for lunch. My grandpa was a very good man who worked very hard. He loved Olney. Another memory I have is of him taking me to take down the American flag that was in the center of Olney ( I think). I was only around 5 years old, but I remember him teaching me all about how to handle an American flag. After the death of my grandfather in 2003 my grandmother and two uncles tried to keep the business open. When I found out it was sold, I was crushed. I have so many memories of Olney and my grandpa’s shop. It was very comforting to read this, and I hope you don’t mind me sharing some of my fondest memories with you.

    • Heather, I sure knew your grandfather, and, not that they’d remember me, would run in to your grandmother and uncle, “Jr.”, from time-to-time, too. Thank you for enjoying the stories and sharing your memories. You’re a part of the stories too. It’s like all of us who witnessed Olney’s changes are standing around watching, just beyond the view created by the words of the story, and could all add our own recollections. History is much more cool, when you realize you are a part of it.

      Are you Steve Gibson’s daughter? Steve is who I knew best, of the whole Finneyfrock extended-family, because he and my older brother were close friends for many years.

      For me, Dudley Sr. is an interesting character in all of this Old Olney stuff. He represents “the longtime local” for me, and while we suburban newcomers vehemently wanted Olney (including Dud’s old shop) to not change, while the longtime locals, like Dud, had been looking forward to the Georgia Avenue widening for years. The new shop building that Dudley built is beautiful, and exemplifies his respect for the desires of everyone, in keeping the village architecture “colonial”. I get sad when I see the building now. As well-kept and productively used as it is, Finneyfrock seems to be just a name on a plaque on the corner of the building now. I’m still an Olney-ite though, and I know I also see the name on a mailbox on Dubarry Drive. Seeing that, and knowing the Finneyfrocks persist in Olney, make me happy.

      • Heather Gibson

        Yes…that mailbox with the train is still there on Dubarry Drive. 🙂 I am not Steve’s daughter…my father is David Gibson, his younger brother. My dad joined the Air Force when he was 18 and ended up making the west coast his home. After my parents separated when I was 5, I stayed with my grandparents in Olney for a while, but then moved back to NC with my mother. I was fortunate enough to be able to visit my grandparents often throughout my childhood and think of Olney as my home away from home. It has now been over a year since I’ve had the opportunity to visit, but have this yearning almost daily to be there. I hope to visit my grandmother within the next few weeks. I do love that place…..

    • Lisa

      Piecing together your and Andy’s messages, I’m guessing that Dudley, Jr. would have been at Sherwood in the late ’70s, early ’80s? I think he was in my French class in ’80, my Senior year. My maiden name was Browne…. if that sounds right, tell him I said, ‘hello’.

      • Heather

        Yes… that would have been him. He actually lives in West Virginia now, but I will tell him the next time I speak with him.

  8. Melissa Popham

    Hi Andy,

    What a wonderful piece on “Old Olney”. I came across this blog researching my family for my 4th Grader Ancestry Project at Sherwood Elementary in Sandy Spring. I grew up in Olney, then Brookeville. My Great-Grandfather was Reuben P. Hines Sr. My maiden name is Melissa Gooding and my Paternal Grandmother is Esther “Hines” Gooding. Thank you for adding this piece of history to my daughters report. Take Care!! Melissa “Gooding” Popham SHS ’88

    • Hi Melissa, You are so welcome. I’m glad you enjoyed the stories. I’m guessing that your parents-in-law must be Doug and Carol? What a great bunch of people, the Pophams. I’m still trying to remember their son’s (your husband?) name. Of course, I also know one of your Hines cousins/uncles (somehow), Robert Hines, who is a grandson of Reuben P. Hines. Mr. Hines is a very popular and particularly effective History teacher for the MCPS. For anyone reading this, who is not otherwise aware, Reuben Hines was the original blacksmith at what we’ve come to know as Finneyfrock’s. Reuben’s daughter married Joseph Finneyfrock (Dudley Sr.’s dad), who inherited the business. Anyway, it’s good to hear from you, and I’m glad the information served a student. If, in fact, your in-laws are Doug and Carol, please send them the very best from the Bittners. Andy Bittner MHS ’80

  9. eileen cavaness stewart

    Hi, thanks for the history. I was born at the hospital in 1955. I grew up on layhill rd across from the Parker farm. My father Allen Cavaness was the principal of many of the schools in that area. I enjoyed seeing the pics and reading the history. Will share with friends from Kennedy, Wheaton and Sherwood H Schools. .y parents first lived in Ashton across from Kimballs prior to moving to layhill in 1955.

  10. Frances Dowling Harner

    Andy, I just found this as a result of someo.ne puttting a link on FB. Thanks for the wonderful walk through the past. As I grew up on the Dowling farm on Gregg Road, Olney was our “hometown” too. Frances Dowling Harner, Sherwood Class of 1958

  11. Hello. Reliving the past of Olney has been a delight.I am a Dowling and spent my teenage years working at my parents Olney Del. I was born in the old Montgomery General hospital, as were ten more of my eleven brothers and sisters. Thanks for the memories.Carole Dowling DeVivo

  12. Edmund

    Thanks for the memories. The Yates family moved to Olney (on Old Baltimore Road) in May of 1951 and all fifteen of Dr. Richard and Marie Yates’ children went to St. Peter’s School and frequented the businesses mentioned in your story. I recall as a child going to these stores and purchasing candy on the “house account.” They didn’t know our first name, but they could always tell we were one of the Yates!

  13. Doug Ramsdell

    I grew up in one of those newly constructed (at the time, which was the mid to late 50s) subdivisions in the Colesville area that (sadly, I think now) heralded the accelerated decline of farming in the area. I attended Sherwood in 7th and 8th grades, and remember the schoolbus heading up Colesville Road (then two lanes, of course) toward Ashton, and cutting left onto Norwood Road as a bypass to get to Sandy Spring Road and then to Sherwood. (I’m not sure if the trip via Norwood Road was actually shorter, or if the bus driver simply preferred the more scenic route; I know I did. Fields, livestock, weathered barns, wildflowers, the occasional rusted piece of farm equipment, farmhouses little changed from the previous century.) Obviously, this was before busses had automatic transmissions, and the driver, Mrs. Winters, seemed to enjoy all the shifting up and down and again, so did I.). I remember the whole area as a farming community primarily, along with some fairly spectacular mansions, and because so many of the kids I attended Sherwood with had family names that were endemic to the area (Bonifant, Riggs, Farquahar, Robey, Kimball, among others), I felt like a visitor to a small planet. It only lasted two years, though, and then I was shuttled off to county schools elsewhere. I always loved driving back to Ashton, and Olney, and the area, though, and was grateful the shaded country lanes remained. Of course, the last time I drove out that way was 20 years ago, and I’d dread to do it now. I like the picture in my head just fine.

    Thanks for this blog, even though it’s not exactly humming with activity. And thanks everyone for your posts; they’re fascinating.

  14. Jack devlin

    Andy was looking for some History, My uncle Dick Barnsley family owed a large farm in Olney back in the day. It was nice to see the old high school friend is hard at work for the old timers of Olney.

    • Jack, There was time when most of the property on the west side of Georgia Avenue was owned by some Barnsley or another, from Norbeck to Olney. Even the old Brooke Manor Country Club, which most of us will associate with Brooke Johns, was only Brooke’s because he had married a Barnsley.

  15. Charles D. (Dave) Oland Jr.

    Wow talk about memory lane. I grew up on the property that is now Oland Professional Center just north of the Olney intersection. I go back a little further, Sherwood Grad 1956. Worked at Finnyfrocks, Doc Berlin s, delivered papers (by bicycle] from Hines Hatchery to Waters home north of town. Much more comes to mind but time presses right now. Hope can talk more later.
    Dave Oland

  16. Steve Rochinski

    Hello: In 1971 and early 1972, a couple of friends had a band and we lived on the top floor of the old farmhouse that stood directly in front of the animal hospital that was located about a 1/4 of a mile down 108 on the left side, after turning right off of 97. There’s now an ATM standing in the parking lot of a retail area, roughly where the house stood. Can you please give any background and history on the house, the farm, and the animal hospital? I’m writing a novelistic memoir and I would like as much background on it as possible. I remember a dear and patient elderly lady named Mrs. Marfact(sp?) who lived on the bottom floor. The animal hospital had a live-in attendant, an older man named Woody. Thanks so much for your time and assistance. Steve Rochinski

    • Hi Steve, Somehow, I am only just becoming aware of this comment, and I apologize for the delay in getting back to you. The farm and animal hospital belonged to the Ladsons. I thought they also were still living somewhere on that property in ’71-72, but I could be wrong. If there weren’t still Ladsons living elsewhere on the property, then the house you were in must have been the old Ladson house. I have several good friends who are Olney Ladsons. I’ll get more detail and get back to you.

    • Dave Oland

      Steve
      The lady living in the Ladson house was Mrs Marfa (same family as the auto lube of that name).Her son still lives in the area.

      As far as I can remember that house was the Ladson’s home until they bilt a newer home and started renting out that house.

    • Dave Oland

      Whoops
      Typing skill not so good. Name is “Marfax”.
      Sorry

  17. Yvonne Hawkins Field

    Andy, I loved this article, & had never seen it before. Also I didn’t even know that my Dad had written an essay about “Old Olney”, or that it Is in the Sandy Spring Museum.
    A couple of notes: it was my father’s grandfather, not his father, who was the wheelwright in Olney. His father, Francis (Frank) M. Hawkins, Sr, built many, many homes in the Olney area with his brother Charlie, & was also a cabinetmaker. You’re right about his father (Frank) remodeling the old Farmers’ Grange into the DGS (District Grocery Stores). It later became Olney Foods after the demise of DGS.
    Another point: Mrs. Clara Mae Downey met my Dad through my mother (then Mae McSorley) who was the governess of Mrs. Downey’s daughter, Grace. At the time, Dad was working across the street in a small grocery store across the street from St. Peter’s Catholic Church, and it was in that store where Francis & Mae met each other. Mrs. Downey later gave them a beautiful wedding at the Olney Inn, since my mother was from Scotland, & had no relatives in the States.

    Hope these notes help.

    • Yvonne, I’m so glad you enjoyed this. I was actually aware that your father’s grandfather was the wheelwright, but his essay makes it sound like his father continued in the business until rubber tires put the wheelwrights out of business. This, he noted, was what drove his father (your grandfather) into the home building and associated woodworking trades. Actually, I should go back and re-read what I wrote, because I am aware of most of the things you’re telling me.

      Now here’s the question, and I’m about to start researching the answer with some of her family… the last time I heard, Grace Riggs was still alive. I’ve just checked with a relative to see if that is still the case.

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