William Kensinger 1823 - 1873

William P. Kensinger: 1823-1873
After the canoe trip Saturday, we rambled around "hollars" and over back roads passing many of the little churches in Hancock and Hawkins County where Klep's great-grandfather, William P. Kensinger preached during the seventeen years that he shared the gospel as an ordained Baptist minister. He lived very near to the area where we spend a couple of months each year. Many of these places were from seven to twenty-five miles away from where he lived.

Some were on the other side of the Clinch River. To fully understand his commitment to his calling, we need to remember that this was long before roads were paved and the bridge was built over the river. Klep has been transcribing the Reverend Kensinger's handwritten notes into the family history he's been researching and writing since 1976. His great grandfather wrote in a classic style of handwriting the title of his sermons, the text, and where he preached the sermon.

During the Civil War, he served as pastor of the Hickory Cove Baptist Church. This period of time was particularly difficult in this section of Tennessee where there were actually very few slaves. As in other parts of the south, families and neighbors were often divided over where they stood on the war. There was as much or more danger to the population from bushwhackers and people who used the war as an excuse to do evil to one another than there was from actual combat .

After the war, he traveled around from church to church and to some schools where he preached. Some of his sermons were given in homes. He often preached on days other than Sunday, or the Sabbath as he wrote it in his notebook. We wish that he had included personal notes about how he traveled. Whether he rode a horse or had a buggy, though, all the riding on unimproved roads and across rivers would have been daunting.

One of the saddest parts of his ministry to the people in the mountains must have been the funeral sermons he gave for the children. During this time, long before modern immunizations and antibiotics, there were many entries in his log for funeral sermons for young ones. Several were for two children from the same family on the same day.

William married late at 44 to Margaret Molsbee who also lived in the Hickory Cove area. They had two daughters, Mary Catherine and Rachel Ann who was born eighteen months before William died. Mary Catherine, sadly, died as a young child. Her father made no mention of her death in his log. Rachel Ann was to grow up and married Robert Samuel Molsbee Klepper, a third cousin. She was a slim,small woman.

It is sad to think that he did not live to see his daughter grow up. He was not an old man when he died. Although he was just a little mountain preacher, I am sure that he touched many lives as he fully gave his life to spreading the gospel around the hills.

Canoeing the Clinch River

We are blessed this year with perfect early October weather here in northeast Tennessee with daily highs in the seventies and lows hovering a little above and below fifty. Skies are clear blue and color is coming to the hills.

To the west of us a few miles is the Clinch River. Yesterday we drove over to one of Tennessee's conservation areas at Kyle's Ford and took a four mile canoe trip down the river which at this time of the year is quite low. Historically, the Clinch was an important river before the roads were paved through and across the mountains as a way to get the logs to market. When the river rose during the May"Tide" each year, loggers would fill the river with logs and float them down.

Tennessee has had enough rain this summer to keep the grass green, but not enough to bring the level of the river up. We were not in danger of drowning yesterday, but we did face some challenges navigating the course as we encountered the rocks that created some very low level white water. Our guide had assured us that the canoe was dang nigh indestructable which was good.

Our guide, Jeff, a young man originally from Williston, Florida, pushed us off from the bank four miles upstream from Riverplace at high noon. Even though the temperature hovered around seventy, it was quite balmy under the clear blue sky. I quickly took off my jacket and soaked up some rays as I helped Klep paddle our way down the river.

As we paddled downstream watching the high bluffs drift by us, we saw two blue herrings, what grandma calls Pore Joes. We also watched a Canadian goose fly into the river, land and float around. Our presence did not disturb him in the least. We saw white egrets, fish jumping, and the shelves of stone floating underneath the clear, amber waters. The song birds were often the only sound we heard.

The experience was one of those times to store up and remember as a very special, serene, peaceful time. The bridge came into view all too quickly. We made the four miles in less than two hours -- not bad for two old geezers!