This is the way I heard it.

When Robert and Martha Crawford of Mobile, Alabama learned they were pregnant way back in

1838, they vowed to name their first child after a family friend, Brigadier General Frank

Armstrong.

Well, their first child turned out to be a girl, but that didn't dissuade the parents

from making good on their promise. And so, like a boy named Sue, a girl named Frank entered

the world with a confusing moniker, guaranteed to trigger a lifetime of cocked heads and double

takes. But unlike the hero in the Johnny Cash song, the girl named Frank grew into a beautiful

woman, utterly devoted to two great passions, the Confederate states, and the Methodist church.

Of the two, it's difficult to know which consume the greater amount of her loyalty, but

it's safe to say that her affection for both left little time for romance, which is perhaps

why the girl named Frank agreed to marry her wealthy cousin 43 years her senior.

Let me be clear about something right up front. I'm not suggesting that Frank married her cousin

for his money. Not at all. Truth is, she signed a prenup, so she knew going in she'd

inherit just a tiny portion of his estate. I'm just saying, it's hard to imagine that the

attraction was mutual. The groom was old enough to be her grandfather. He already had 13

children with his first wife, a woman named Sophie, who also happened to be a first cousin.

Obviously, when Sophie died, the old man had taken one look at Frank and resolved to take

another dip in the family gene pool. But does that mean the girl named Frank wasn't truly

in love with her elderly cousin? Of course not. It's just that, well, the old man's legendary

lack of social graces had ripened with age. He had no education, atrocious grammar, and

a commitment to profanity entirely inconsistent with his station in life. He was ruthless

...