Category: family

Below are memories of Marc Rector that were given to his family ahead of the memorial service that was held on Saturday, April 1st, 2023 at The Cheese School of San Francisco.

Johannes Jacob Richter — later known as John Jacob Rector — left Siegen, Westphalia (now Germany) with his wife and first born child in 1713 to become an indentured worker in the first colonial iron mine in North America. He was a metalworker in Siegen, as were his forefathers, many of whom lived in “Truppbach,” a town across the river from Siegen that translates to “army town.” For generations he and his fore bearers worked to support the local feudal lords fighting for territory and religion in Northern Europe.

Later that century, Mary Tiffin Rector brought her children to the Ohio Territory, one of whom was named “John Rector”. One of Mary’s grandsons, Marcus Clay Rector, joined the Union Army during the Civil War. He likely faced many of his cousins who fought in the Virginia CSA cavalry and militias. His son, Marcus Clay Jr., was the formidable grandfather of my John Marcus Rector that Marc remembered visiting, along with grandma Libbie, in West Jefferson, for large family get togethers: Marcus and Libbie had nine children themselves.

Our patronymic family has a long relationship with the military, through at least seven centuries, including the US Navy which gave John Marcus Rector the opportunity to be the first in his family to graduate from a university. It also gave him the opportunity to leave Ohio and see the world, for which he was always grateful. He always spoke fondly of his time as a communications officer on two destroyers, one in the Pacific and one in the Atlantic. This indirectly lead to my own first European tour, inside my Mom who was pregnant with me when she joined a group of Navy wives following their husbands around Europe in the spring of 1964. Thank you Mom and Dad! I still remember my first taste of live baby eels fried tableside in Spain…true story, ask Carol about that sometime.

–Eric

Marcus, he drew a line around our hearts

and drew us to his home.

He shared his thoughts like hors d’oevres

to feed his passion to be known.

His ghost shall be good at craps.

His cheers scared the cats from his lap.

He sang, when the feeling found him,

and he laughed in every language.

He was the wine and football man

and because of that, still is.

No beauty ever dissappears.

He didn’t die, he lived

entirely on his own terms.

Marcus, our Bacchus,

he took his time, which took his turn;

he was so easy to remember,

like some song you can’t unlearn.

–Brian, after the stylings of cowboy poet Charles J. Quarto, frequent collaborator with Jerry Jeff Walker