Isham And Susan Day Beasley Picture

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Isham And Susan Day Beasley
Pictured are Isham and Susan Day Beasley in about 1875. Isham was the son of Braddock and Sarah
Ferguson Beasley. He was born in 1825 and died June 25, 1887 in the Cato Community of Trousdale
County. Isham was married twice prior to his marriage to Susan Day. Susan, the daughter of John D.
and Margaret Collie or Cawley Day, was born June 25, 1839 and died September 7, 1917. Isham and
Susan became the parents of six children. From all three of his marriages, Isham became the father of
fifteen children. Isham and Susan are buried in the Isham Beasley Cemetery (Scanty Branch Road)

Go To Isham Beasley Cemetery Picture
Scanty Branch Road

The above picture and information is from the Smith County History Book, 1986,
where much more information on this family is presented.

Below is the story of Isham Beasley's death that is published in a book entitled "Beasley Blood"
by Mary Beth Beasley Enoch and Cassie Dillard Draper, 1989.


Anyone long familiar with members of the Beasley family has, no doubt, either witnessed first
hand or has heard tales of what is commonly known among the kinfolks as "the Beasley fit".
Such volatile, unexpected, usually unprovoked and erratic bursts of temper and plain rage have
come to be a recognized and tolerated part of the character of a typical Beasley, just as a portly
figure, stocky stature, and loquacious personality are considered part and parcel of that same
Beasley makeup, evident more in some than in others, of course. Regardless of who has one or
why, these displays are not pretty sights. Perhaps the most dramatic and memorable example of
just such a "fit" can be traced to my own great, great grandfather, Isham Beasley, or "Fat Isham"
as he was often called. Grandpa Isham ventured out to his barnyard one fine morning to inspect his
livestock. The sun was shining, birds were singing, and everything seemed to be right with the world
Suddenly Grandpa Isham saw a sight which was to effect Beasleys for generations to come. There in
the barnyard a few scraggly old chickens were eating along with the hogs. As the story goes, Grandpa
became so enraged by the sight of these poor creatures eating feed intended for his fine hogs that he
totally lost control of his emotions. He raved and ranted, they say, stomped his feet, shook his fists,
and goodness knows what else, to such an extent that his already abused heart simply could stand no
more. A major artery ruptured and he died on the spot. This tale so impressed me that whenever I feel
a bit of a fit or tantrum coming on, I remember Grandpa Isham. This reminder has a sobering effect
that is amazing. This particular story has been carried down through the years so it must be true.

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