Sallie was the daughter of Adam J. Chessor and Lucy Ann Bates. She died during the typhoid epidemic of 1900, and was buried buried next to her sister Sarah Fannie, who died in 1871 at the age of one.

Sallie Jane's cousin, Oda Mitchell, who also lost a sister, Margie, during the typhoid epidemic, sewed and made the death shroud for Sallie and helped to prepare her for burial. When the family asked to see Sallie for the last time, Oda said, "Aunt Lucy, I think she looks more natural there where she died." According to the writings of James E. "Uncle Jim" Chessor, "the family gathered there to bid the dead girl, who loved flowers and was as sweet as any, a last farewell." Sallie was dressed in white muslin laced with blue ribbons, and was buried in a walnut coffin.

Uncle Jim later wrote:
"I remember that Brother George set out a cedar in our front yard just about the time our sister died, placing its roots on a slate rock; there it grew, reminding us of our early sorrow. Also that Brother John set out one at her grave, which grew to remind us of her lonely tomb. Both trees grew."

Uncle Jim also wrote the following poem about his sister:

A Poem Written by James E. Chessor
for His Sister, Sallie Jane Chessor,
Born November 23, 1884
Died November 26, 1900
She saw no beauty in the bleak November,
When flowers were withered and fields were bare;
Perhaps some Fairer Country she remembered,
And gladly took the path that led her there;
For Spring was in her heart, and bade her go
To seek the Lovely Land she used to know.
We stood beside her when the snow was falling,
Dropping above her many an anguished tear;
Almost we heard the faint, far whisper calling,
Almost we felt her darling presence near.
"I love you so," we thought we heard her say,
"That I have gone before to show you the way."
Death could not hold her spirit; when we covered
Her sweet, still face forever from our sight,
We felt the mystic Presence that hovered
To hear her onward to the Glorious Light
That shines forever from God's blessed throne;
And we were glad she need not go alone.
Forty long years! She will remember,
In her Eternity, 'tis but a day
Since were parted in that bleak November;
And our long road seems but a little way,
Till we shall find her by Heaven's silver walls
Of living water, 'mid the asphodels.
J.E.C. 1946

Poem and writings taken from The Chessor Family History 1783-1993 by John Will Chessor.