Jane, sometimes known as Jenny Dobkins was born around 1780 someplace in Virginia to Jacob Dobkins and his wife, Dorcas Johnson.

Local Claiborne County, Tennessee, attorney and historian, P.G. Fulkerson (1840-1929), recorded his memories of the relationships of the early pioneer families which were later published in the local newspapers and historical society bulletins under the name of both “P. G. Fulkerson Papers” and “Early Settlers of Claiborne County.” P. G. would have been about 20 years old when Jane Dobkins Campbell died. If he didn’t know her, her certainly knew of her.

P. G. said:

Jacob Dobbins (sic)…children were Elizabeth who married George Campbell, Solomon married Nancy Adams, Jane married John Campbell, Jacob, Reuben, George married Nancy Parks, John and Peggy.

Jane’s birth year is as reliable as the 1850 Claiborne County census, which we all know is a “somewhat reliable” source.

In 1850, Jane is living with her son, Jacob Campbell and 70 years old would put her birth in about 1780.

Jane is found in the 1860 Claiborne County non-population census, known as the agricultural census, taken on June 1st, providing us with very interesting information about her agricultural possessions:

• 75 acres of land, 57 unimproved (Wow, she’s living off of only 18 acres and likely has been her entire life.)
• $1000 cash value of land, $30 value of farm equipment
• 4 horses, no asses or mules, 2 milch cows, 2 working oxen, 5 other cattle, 17 sheep, 25 swine, all of which were valued together at $496
• 63 bushels of wheat
• No rye
• 350 bushels of Indian corn
• 30 bushels of oats
• No rice or tobacco
• No ginned cotton
• 29 pounds of wool
• No peas or beans
• 10 bushels of Irish potatoes (white potatoes)
• 15 bushels of sweet potatoes
• No barley, buckwheat, orchard products, wine or other market garden produce
• No cheese, hay, clover, grass, hops, hemp, flax, flaxweed or silk
• 150 pounds of butter
• 29 pounds of maple sugar
• 30 gallons of molasses
• No cane sugar or beeswax
• 34 pounds of honey
• $30 value of homemade manufactures (not sure what this would be)
• $75 value of animals slaughtered

The photos of Jane’s land, today, show that it’s extremely hilly. Look at the mountain behind the house.

But, it has a good spring!

The spring emerges from the earth beneath the rock pile in front of the trees, shown below. A fresh spring, meaning clean uncontaminated water was the single most important aspect of scouting for land.

Obviously, part of Jane’s land was farmable – but I’m shocked to realize how much wasn’t. It wasn’t lying fallow because it was noted as unimproved which means there were trees standing and it had simply never been converted into farmable land – if it even could be. Looking at the steep incline, that’s very questionable.

The agricultural census allows us a different kind of glimpse into Jane’s life. One thing becomes immediately apparent – at age 80 she could not have possibly performed all of the work necessary to plant, cultivate, harvest and process the items on the list above.

Interestingly, Jane isn’t found in the 1860 regular census. She would have been approximately 80 years of age. It has been presumed that she died between 1850 and 1860, but given that other estates of deceased people in the agricultural census are listed as owned by the heirs, Jane must have been living as of the census date. I wonder how she was missed in the regular census which was supposed to have been recorded “as of” the same date. She definitely is not listed living with Jacob Campbell in 1860 as she was in 1850.

Perhaps she died right around this time and was recorded on one form, but not the other.

Burial

Not only don’t we know exactly when Jane died, although at this point, I’d presume sometime in 1860, but we also don’t know exactly where she is buried.

Jane was married to John Campbell, but there doesn’t appear to be a Campbell Cemetery from this early date. It’s possible of course that she and John are buried in what eventually became the Liberty Cemetery, above their home, in unmarked graves. The earliest marked grave at Liberty dates from 1889 with the burial of Daniel Jones, but the marker is contemporary.

If they are not buried in the Liberty Cemetery, then Jane and John are both likely buried in the beautiful Dobkins/Campbell Cemetery on her father’s original land which has remained in the family for more than 200 years.

The Dobkins/Campbell cemetery where Jane probably rests with her parents overlooks “Little Ridge” in the distance that separated her home from that of her parents.

While today one travels the roads, in years past, there were shortcuts over the ridge between the properties. John Campbell and Jane Dobkins lived “above” current day Liberty Church, which didn’t exist then, and Jacob Dobkins lived on what is today the private road called A. L. Campbell Lane.

Back then, there was assuredly a direct route over the hills through those passes to Jacob’s house.

What else do we know about Jane?

While we don’t know exactly when or where Jane was born, we do have some fascinating clues.

Jane’s Childhood

We know that Jane’s father, Jacob Dobkins, states in his Revolutionary War pension application that he enlisted in May of 1779 and resided at the time in Harrodsburg, Kentucky.

Jacob provides further details of where he served until August of 1781, so it’s likely that Jane was born in 1779 or perhaps early in 1780. Jane’s mother, Dorcas, could have been pregnant when Jacob enlisted. If Jane wasn’t born by February of 1780, then she probably wasn’t born until at least May of 1782, 9 months after Jacob returned home from the Revolutionary War. It’s unlikely that Jane was born after 1780, because all 3 census records agree that she was born between 1770 and 1780.

Jane is reported by many researchers to have been born in Dunsmore County, now Shenandoah County, Virginia, but based on Jacob’s 1779 enlistment, the Dunsmore County location is at least somewhat questionable. Was Jacob living in Harrodsburg alone when he enlisted? It’s possible, but then his wife could not have gotten pregnant during that timeframe.

Harrodsburg was one of the first 3 settlements in Kentucky, established in 1774, abandoned the following year due to Indian raids, then re-established in 1776. Harrodsburg is considered to be the oldest city in Kentucky and the oldest permanent American settlement west of the Appalachians. Jane may have been born there.

Keep in mind that at that time, neither Kentucky nor Tennessee was yet a state, and that part of the country was indeed Virginia, which is where Jane’s 1850 birth location is given after “Tennessee” was marked through.

In 1788, we find Jacob purchasing land in Washington County, Virginia, but the family might never have lived there. The boundaries of Washington County were vast at that time.

In 1789, when Jane would have been about 9 years old, Jacob, signed a petition to the state of North Carolina submitted by the residents living south of the French Broad River, somewhat of a no-mans land; not Virginia, not North Carolina and not yet Tennessee either. These people, most of whom had once been living in the by-then-defunct “State of Franklin” were asking for assistance – or more specifically, protection from the Indians – a plea that was denied by the North Carolina legislature.

Many years of Jane’s life are missing, but we know that regardless of where the family was residing in 1789, in the 1790 census, Jacob is listed in Shenandoah County, Virginia with 8 people in his household. Did he move back, or did his wife and children never leave? That’s hard to imagine, especially since he had several children. Proximity is required for that to occur.

In 1794, Jacob is listed in Washington County, Virginia in a lawsuit with John Sevier, the eventual governor of Tennessee. In 1795, Jacob is deposed in Shenandoah County, VA. Of course, he didn’t necessarily live there at the time, and he was clearly a woodsman, comfortable with rough, mountainous travel. I do believe this man had a case of wanderlust!

On March 12, 1795, Jacob bought land on the Whitestone Fork of Bent Creek in what was then Jefferson County of the Territory South of the River Ohio, on land where he would live as Tennessee emerged as a state in 1796 and until Jacob moved to Claiborne County by 1801.

This is the land where Jane would have grown up, or at least finished growing up. In 1795, she would have been about 15 and approaching “courting age.” By 1800, she was likely already married.

Unfortunately, these photos were taken during a trip years ago and I wrote on the backs before I knew better.

Jane would have blossomed into a young woman here, meeting John Campbell as his family came and went up and down the main road. Perhaps she and her sister coyly flirted, waving as the Campbell men passed by in their wagon or on their horses. Perhaps John and George tipped their hats, finding every excuse possible to ride up and down that road, eventually falling in love with the Dobkins sisters.

The Charles Campbell family didn’t live far away in Hawkins County.

From the Whitehorn Branch of Bent Creek to the area where Charles Campbell owned land, near the ferry crossing the Holston River, would have been approximately 8 miles via the main road.

The Dobkins sisters would have married the Campbell brothers in Hawkins County.

The land that Charles Campbell deeded jointly to sons George and John in 1793 could have been a wedding gift to both boys. Did they have a double wedding, marrying the Dobkins sisters? We simply don’t know. Many records are burned or otherwise nonexistent.

We can only imagine what a joyful day this must have been for both families!

A Permanent Home in Claiborne County, Tennessee

By 1801, Jacob Dobkins was in Claiborne County, and on February 26, 1802, John and his brother George Campbell, married to Jane’s sister Elizabeth, both sold the land they jointly owned in Hawkins County, originally sold to them by their father, Charles Campbell in 1793. Both John and George Campbell appeared in Claiborne County near Jacob Dobkins. On May 1, 1802, John Campbell purchased land.

On the map above, George Campbell’s land is at left, Jacob Dobkins’ land at right and John Campbell’s below – all roughly 3 miles apart as the crow flies.

By 1802, based on later records of their children, we know that Jane had at least one child, Jacob Campbell, who was born about 1801. Jane and John would have married in 1800 or earlier in Hawkins County. Perhaps she rode in the wagon from Hawkins County to Claiborne with an infant on her lap, pregnant for the next family member.

Based on what we know, Elizabeth’s birth year is reasonably well confirmed in 1780 or earlier, although it’s certainly possible that Jane was somewhat older and had borne several children by 1800.

From 1802 until her death about 1860, for 58 years, it appears that Jane lived on the land she and John purchased on Little Sycamore Road in Claiborne County, just above the Liberty Church and below the Liberty Cemetery today.

The changes that woman must have seen!

The arrow points to the Campbell home. The church is the brown building in the left lower corner, and the Liberty cemetery is the loop road in the upper right.

Looking down at the house from Liberty Cemetery, on top of the ridge behind the house.

Years later, Jane and John’s descendants donated an acre of land for Liberty Church, and later yet, gave land for Liberty Cemetery.

Looking south at the back of Liberty Church from the Campbell homestead.

Over the decades, Liberty Cemetery has become a neighborhood burying ground. If you could see “over yonder,” across the hills, you would see Jacob Dobkins land in the distance.

George Campbell’s homestead is over yonder in this photo, as is the Estes land. Jane raised granddaughter Ruthy Dodson after Ruthy’s mother, Elizabeth Campbell Dodson, died. Ruthy married John Y. Estes in 1841. He probably came calling, walking right across these bothersome “hills” that stood in the way between him and his sweetheart.

Jane’s Home

Maybe Jane was tired – tired of migrating from place to place as a child on what was then the westernmost frontier. Tired of fearing for her life from Indian raids. Or simply tired of moving and the instability therein.

Regardless of the motivation, the two Campbell brothers with their Dobkins wives bought land in Claiborne County and never sold it nor moved. They put down roots, deep roots. Jacob Dobkins may have been an adventurer in the walkabout generation, but his daughters and sons-in-law clearly were not.

Jane Dobkins and John Campbell probably built this house, or at least the central core cabin, with their own hands. The owners told us that a small log cabin was in the center of this house, along with a “hidden room” beneath the foundation.

Perhaps memories of spending long nights hidden in fear for your life were all-too-present for Jane.

I love these original stone steps leading into the original cabin door of the home. Jane and John built this, log by log and nail by nail. Jane stepped through this door, on these steps, every single day.

The Vintage Tour

I was fortunate to visit several years ago and the owners were gracious enough to permit us to walk around and view the home’s exterior.

In 1830, John and Jane were both enumerated on the census as age 50-60, so born between 1770-1780.

John and Jane raised their children in this home on Little Sycamore, but in 1838, John Campbell died at about 66 years of age. The local carpenter built his casket, as recorded in his estate inventory, and John was laid to rest, leaving Jane to manage a farm.

In 1840, Jane was enumerated as the head of household, age 60-70 (so born 1770-1780), living with 2 other people, a male 10-15 and a female 15-20. These were probably her grandchildren through daughter Elizabeth who had died around 1830. Those grandchildren were probably a great comfort and help to Jane who must surely have been feeling her accumulating years.

By 1850, Jane was living with her eldest son, although they could all have been living on the old home place which fortunately, still stands.

Walk around with me.

It’s easy to see as additions were made to the original home.

Beside the house, this spring nourished Jane and all of her children for her entire adult life.

There was probably an empty hollowed-out gourd left by the spring for all to use as a cup. Dip, drink and enjoy the wonderful cool water emerging from mother earth in the sheltering shade of the old trees.

I can close my eyes and see Jane walking to this spring several times each day. Furthermore, her milk and butter would have been put in a pool of the cool spring water to keep the milk from spoiling and the butter from going rancid. Water emerging from the earth is a consistent refreshing 52 degrees.

Jane visited this life-sustaining spring for roughly 58 years, and of those, more than two decades were as a widow.

At the end of her years, Jane probably sat in the shade reflecting, remembering and hearing the echoes of the voices of her children from decades earlier as they splashed gleefully in the welcoming water. Those children, some gone from this earth, some gone from Tennessee, and some with adult children of their own had picked up the torch and moved on.

Jane, probably on the north side of 80 years old was ready to pass over and join John.

Jane Dobkins Campbell’s Children

All known children of Jane “Jenny” Dobkins Campbell were born in Claiborne County, Tennessee.

• Jacob Campbell born about 1801 married Temperance Rice about 1820 and died in 1879/80 in Collin County, TX having 8 children, 5 males and 3 females.
• Elizabeth Campbell, my ancestor, born about 1802, married Lazarus Dodson about 1820 and moved to Alabama. She died sometimes between 1827 and 1830, possibly in Alabama, having 4 children, 2 males and 2 females. Lazarus moved back to Tennessee with the children, including Ruthy Dodson.
  • Rutha or Ruthy Dodson (1820-1903) married John Y. Estes and had 5 daughters, including Elizabeth Estes (1851-1946) who married William George Vannoy and moved to Nocona, Texas. Elizabeth had two daughters, Doshia Phoebe Vannoy (1875-1972) who married James Matthew Hutson and Eliza “Louisa” Vannoy who married Joe Robert Miller.
• Elmira Campbell was born about 1804 and died after 1839 but before 1850. She was mentioned in John Campbell’s estate settlement in 1839 and was married to John Pearson, having at least 5 children, 2 females and 3 males. One daughter is possibly Catherine Pearson who was born in 1825 and married Walter Davis in 1842, having daughters herself.
• Jane Campbell was born about 1807 and died in Texas. She apparently had one child but not by Johnson Freeman who she married about 1829 and was divorced from two years later. See a future article about Jane.
• Martha Campbell born in 1807/1808 married about 1827 to Elisha Jones. She died after 1850 in Coles County, Illinois, having 9 children, 4 males and 5 females including Mary Ann Jones born about 1833, Elizabeth Jones born about 1836, Martha Jones born about 1839, Susan Jones born about 1843 and Margaret Jones born about 1847.
• Rutha (also called Mahala) Campbell born about 1808, married Preston Holt about 1827 and died after 1870 in Grainger County, TN, having 12 children, 6 males and 6 females including Eliza Louvesta Holt born in 1828/1829 and married Hugh Bray, Matilda Holt born about 1837 and married James Alexander Willis, Nervesta Holt born about 1842 and married Anderson Kingsolver, Malissa Holt born about 1842 and married James M. Brewer, Clemantine Holt born about 1843 and Minerva Holt born about 1849.
• George Washington Campbell was born in 1813 and married initially to Nancy Eastridge, then about 1844 to Mary, surname unknown. He died sometime after 1870, probably in Denton County, Texas, the father of at least one son, John.
• William Newton Campbell was born on June 9, 1817, married about 1835 to Sydnia Holt and died on November 12, 1908 in Tillman Co., OK, having 12 children, 5 males and 7 females.

Given this information, Jane had at least 52 grandchildren and likely more since several are probably either unknown or died before they could be enumerated in the census.

Jane’s Mitochondrial DNA

You may wonder why I noted and bolded Jane Dobkins’ granddaughters through daughters but not males. Women contribute mitochondrial DNA to all of their offspring, but only the females pass it on. It’s not mixed with the DNA of the father, so the mitochondrial DNA passed down through all females to the current generation, which can be male, is that solely of our ancestor. In this case, that ancestor is Jane “Jenny” Dobkins who received it from her mother Dorcas Johnson.

We know almost nothing about Dorcas Johnson’s mother except her name which can’t be confirmed. Was she European or was she perhaps Native American? If she was from Europe, what part of Europe? What was her heritage before the reach of genealogical records?

Those are the answers held by mitochondrial DNA testing.

If you descend from Jane “Jenny” Dobkins who married John Campbell through all females to the current generation, which can be male, I have a free DNA testing scholarship for you. Simply add a comment to this article or e-mail me at robertajestes at att.net with “Jane Dobkins DNA” as the subject. Guaranteed, that will get my attention right away! 😊

July 2019 Update – We now have Jane’s mitochondrial DNA. Check the next article about Jane for this information by typing Dobkins into the blog search box.

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We only know two things for certain about Traut Enterlein. Where he was between March 25th and April 6th, 1822 and where he wasn’t on December 21^st of the same year.

These are the dates when Elisabetha Mehlheimer would have conceived the child she bore on December 21^st.

Easter that year fell on April 7^th, so maybe they were celebrating the end of Lent, or the beginning of spring, or maybe Traut was moving on and the local people hosted a goodbye party for him with lots of good German beer and wine.

Traut Enterlein may never have known he was a father, at least not to Barbara Mehlheimer who was born to Elisabetha Mehlheimer on December 21, 1822 in Goppmannsbuhl, Germany.

Barbara was given her mother’s surname when she was baptized, because apparently Traut was gone and the couple never married.

Truthfully, it may not have been his fault. He was an apprentice, a journeyman on his requisite walkabout.

No, Traut wasn’t a baker’s apprentice as shown in this medieval print, but apprenticeships began in the middle ages in most trades and crafts. Apprenticeships still exist today in parts of Europe, particularly in Germany.

The Baptismal Record Tells a Story

My friend Chris translated Barbara’s baptismal record from 1822:

Göppmannsbühl number 64 [This must be a lot number in Göppmannsbühl.]

Barbara Melheimerin is born the 21 December 5 o` clock in the morning and was baptized the 26th of the same month.

Father: reportedly Traut Enterlein, clothier apprentice from Klein Schlaßung [?] in Saxony.

Mother: Elisabetha Margaretha Melheimerin, daughter of Johannes Melheimer, master weaver in Göppmannsbühl

Godmother: Barbara Melheimer, unmarried daughter of Johannes Melheimer, master weaver in Göpmannsbühl

Order of birth: the third child

Kind of birth: easy, fast

Midwife: none

Wow, no midwife. The baby must have been delivered by Elisabetha’s mother or maybe even Elisabetha herself.

One interesting note is that Barbara was Elisabetha’s third child, and she had apparently never been married because her surname is that that of her father. When Barbara was born, Elisabetha was 38 years old, which begs the question of Traut’s age.

We know that Traut would have been a minimum of 18, so let’s just use 20, meaning that he was born in 1802 or before. If he was Elisabetha’s age, he would have been born in 1784 which would have made him 38 as well. Typically, one doesn’t think of an apprentice in their late 30s. Apprentices began working at their trade in their teens. The best we can do is to bracket his birth between 1784 and 1802 and his death, sometime after April 7th, 1822. Not very definitive.

So Many Questions

Was Barbara a surprise to Elisabetha after enjoying a few glasses of wine at a festive dinner a few weeks earlier, perhaps? Did Elisabetha hide her pregnancy as long as possible, perhaps even up until the time she delivered? Is that why there was no midwife? In a small village, the midwife would have been easily accessible, living just a few houses away.

Was Traut already working elsewhere in his apprenticeship when Elisabetha discovered that she was pregnant? Would it have mattered, especially if there was a significant age difference between the couple?

Was Traut unable to be found? How would you find a wandering journeyman? Were there perhaps extenuating circumstances that we’ll never know about involved?

Chris wondered about the situation too, and wrote the following:

Why did the young Elisabetha Margaretha Mehlheimer, unmarried mother of your Barbara Mehlheimer born in 1822 not marry the father of Barbara, Traut Enterlein? This is a tough one.

Honestly, we will probably never know. What I can tell you is that Traut Enterlein did not marry or die in Wirbenz. There is a church book register for all baptisms, marriages and burials from 1815 onwards and the name Enterlein or Enderlein is not in there at all. My guess – but mind, only a guess! – is that Traut Enterlein had already moved on to another place when Elisabetha Margaretha Mehlheimer found out she was pregnant.

About Traut Enterlein: I searched for the name and did not find anything at all. I did find some mentionings of the name “Enderlein” (not in Wirbenz) and so assume this may have been the usual writing.

In the 1822 baptism entry, he is called a “Tuchmachergeselle”. I translated this to “clothier apprentice”. But thinking about it again, I wonder if you are familiar with the German term “Geselle”, since I think it is not something common in the US or even the UK: In former times it was required for any craftsmen that after completion of their apprenticeship they had to move through the country and work for other masters. Read more (in English) in this Wikipedia article: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Journeyman_years

These “journeyman years” is what Traut Enterlein obviously was doing when Barbara Mehlheimer was born. So this makes me think that he worked (probably for Johannes Mehlheimer, the father of Elisabetha Margaretha) in 1821/1822 and then moved on. But this is only my hypothesis.

I am not sure at all about the place of origin of Traut Enterlein. It clearly reads “in Sachsen” = “in Saxony”, but the town name is much less clear. I have looked and tried Google searches again and again and have not found the place. It probably is not “Klein Schlaßung” either but rather it is two “e” in the middle and a “z” at the end of the word, which would make it something like “Klein Schleßenz/Schlessenz”. But I cannot find such a place name either. I am sorry, but I think I am lost here and cannot help you further.

What makes it worse: The church book records from Saxony (and the entire Eastern part of Germany) are hard to access and many of them are not even on microfilms yet. So there are less possibilities for searching.

Journeyman Years

The article Chris directed me to elaborated on something I was told in Germany a few years ago. Journeymen wore distinctive clothing as they roamed about the countryside carrying their only belongings, a parcel of clothing, and staying with families.

Given that Traut was a clothier apprentice, he could well have been working for Elisabetha’s father and moved on before he knew that Elisabetha was pregnant. This makes sense, given that Elisabetha’s father was a weaver.

In a certain tradition, the journeyman years (Wanderjahre) are a time of travel for several years after completing apprenticeship as a craftsman. The tradition dates back to medieval times and is still alive in German-speaking countries. Normally three years and one day is the minimum period of journeyman/woman. Crafts include roofing, metalworking, woodcarving, carpentry and joinery, and even millinery and musical instrument making/organ building.

In medieval times, the apprentice was bound to his master for a number of years. He lived with the master as a member of the household, receiving most or all of his compensation in the form of food and lodging; in Germany it was normal that the apprentice had to pay a fee (German: Lehrgeld) for his apprenticeship. After the years of apprenticeship (Lehrjahre) the apprentice was absolved from his obligations (this absolution was known as a Freisprechung). The guilds, however, would not allow a young craftsman without experience to be promoted to master—they could only choose to be employed, but many chose instead to roam about.

Until the craftsman became a master, they would only be paid by the day (the French word journée refers to the time span of a day). In parts of Europe, such as in later medieval Germany, spending time as a journeyman (Geselle), moving from one town to another to gain experience of different workshops, became an important part of the training of an aspirant master. Carpenters in Germany have retained the tradition of travelling journeymen even today, although only a small minority still practice it.

In the Middle Ages, the number of years spent journeying differed by the craft. Only after half of the required journeyman years (Wanderjahre) would the craftsman register with a guild for the right to be an apprentice master. After completing the journeyman years, he would settle in a workshop of the guild and after toughing it out for several more years (Mutjahre), he would be allowed to produce a “masterpiece” (German: Meisterstück) and present it to the guild. With their consent he would be promoted to guild master and as such be allowed to open his own guild workshop in town.

Some wandering years extended much beyond the 3 years and 1 day. This man’s ropemaking apprenticeship lasted for 8 years as the man worked in 112 places in Germany, Switzerland and Austria. It’s a fascinating read, with a corresponding map here. This journeyman who worked 112 places in 8 years averaged 52 days in any one place. Now Traut’s absence makes much more sense. In fact, based on this, it’s very likely that by the time Elisabetha suspected that she was pregnant, Traut was already gone. This next paragraph calls into question what would have happened if Traut has discovered that Elisabetha was pregnant before he left.

The journeyman brotherhoods had established a standard to ensure that wandering journeymen are not mistaken for tramps and vagabonds. The journeyman is required to be unmarried, childless and debt-free—so that the journeyman years will not be taken as a chance to run away from social obligations.

This begs the question of what would have happened to an apprentice that fathered a child during their wandering years. What would have happened to Traut and his apprenticeship? Was it possible that Elisabetha didn’t search for Traut, on purpose?

In modern times the brotherhoods often require a police clearance. Additionally, journeymen are required to wear a specific uniform (Kluft) and to present themselves in a clean and friendly manner in public. This helps them to find shelter for the night and a ride to the next town.

A travelling book (Wanderbuch) was given to the journeyman and in each new town, he would go to the town office asking for a stamp. This qualifies both as a record of his journey and also replaces the residence registration that would otherwise be required. In contemporary brotherhoods the “Walz” is required to last at least three years and one day (sometimes two years and one day). During the journeyman years the wanderer is not allowed to return within a perimeter of 50 km of his home town, except in specific emergency situations, such as the impending death of an immediate relative.

How could apprentices be informed that a relative was ill or even had died before the days of modern technology? How was the wanderer tracked? It seems to me that when you returned at the end of your journey, it’s entirely possible that you could find your entire family deceased or having moved. At least others could tell you where they had gone, but if it was to America, the apprentice would clearly never see them again unless he too emigrated and attempted to find his family. After many years of being on their own, that seems unlikely. Skills they would assuredly have learned are self-reliance and adaptability.

At the beginning of the journey, the wanderer takes only a small, fixed sum of money with him (exactly five Deutschmarks was common, now five Euros); at its end, he should come home with exactly the same sum of money in his pocket. Thus, he is supposed neither to squander money nor to store up any riches during the journey, which should be undertaken only for the experience.

There are secret signs, such as specific, involved handshakes, that German carpenters traditionally use to identify each other. They are taught to the beginning journeyman before he leaves. This is another traditional method to protect the trade against impostors. While less necessary in an age of telephones, identity cards and official diplomas, the signs are still retained as a tradition. Teaching them to anybody who has not successfully completed a carpenter apprenticeship is still considered very wrong, even though it is no longer a punishable crime today.

This traveling book, from 1818 in Bremen would be similar to the book that Traut probably carried with him. That book, if we could find it, probably carries the signature of Elisabetha Mehlheimer’s father, Johannes, vouching that Traut had indeed spent time in his workshop. Johannes was called a “master weaver” in the baptismal record, which also tells us that Johannes likely served an apprenticeship in the same way as well.

Journeymen can be easily recognized on the street by their clothing.

By A.stemmer, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1780852

The carpenter’s black hat has a broad brim; some professions use a black stovepipe hat or a cocked hat. The carpenters wear black bell-bottoms and a waistcoat and carry the Stenz, which is a traditional curled hiking pole. Since many professions have since converted to the uniform of the carpenters, many people in Germany believe that only carpenters go journeying, which is untrue – since the carpenter’s uniform is best known and well received, it simply eases the journey.

The uniform is completed with a golden earring and golden bracelets—which could be sold in hard times and in the Middle Ages could be used to pay the gravedigger if any wanderer should die on his journey. The journeyman carries his belongings in a leather backpack called the Felleisen, but some medieval towns banned those (for the fleas in them) so that many journeyman used a coarse cloth to wrap up their belongings.

Clearly many records are missing today in Germany, but it does make me wonder if Traut died. No marriage, later births of children or death is found for anyone with any similar name, anyplace. Or, perhaps the minister in Goppmansbuhl recorded Traut’s surname as it sounded to him, which may not have been how it was recorded elsewhere.

I would think, however, given that his journeyman’s book was issued from a specific place that we would find records of him there, either before or after his apprenticeship, or both.

Or maybe Traut never made it home. A person traveling on foot throughout the country, known to probably be wearing a gold earring and bracelet might be a target for those very items meant to keep them safe.

Perhaps Traut literally did just disappear, paying for his own funeral with his golden jewelry.

Traut’s Story

My own year spent abroad opened my eyes – widely. I can only imagine what many years would do for a young person, teaching them self-reliance, resiliency, resourcefulness and of course a trade.

Oh, the stories that Traut must have had. How I would love to hear those and all about his journey. The good and the bad. Those years surely shaped him. What did he do? Where did he go? Were there a few special relationships, or was there a different girlfriend in every village? How many children does he actually have? Of course, as we’ve demonstrated, maybe Traut didn’t even know the answer to that question. It’s very unlikely that he knew about Barbara.

Even if we did find Traut in the records, unless we also miraculously found an existing journal or at least his travel book, we would never share a glimpse into those years except for this one very important record in which one single word, “Tuchmachergeselle,” revealed so much.

Traut’s Staff?

As I researched for this article, I remembered a “staff” that has descended in my mother’s family and went digging in the umbrella stand to find it.

No one knew where the staff originally came from. It just kept being passed on, generation to generation. Many of the family heirlooms that my mother owned came from the “Kirsch House,” which means they descended through Barbara Drechsel Kirsch.

My mother cherished heirlooms, even if she didn’t know their provenance. The fact that they had been passed down within the family was enough.

This staff descended along with a beer stein and plates from the Kirsch House, owned by Jacob Kirsch and Barbara Drechsel. Did this belong to them, or did this staff arrive through Nora Kirsch and Curtis Benjamin Lore in the next generation? Was this staff something cherished by Elisabetha Mehlheimer and brought to America by her daughter, Barbara Mehlheimer who married George Drechsel?

In Mom’s later years, she “spruced” this staff up a bit with a new coat of shellac or something similar, and I know she added the rubber foot so she could use it as a cane. She received lots of compliments, questions and comments and when asked about the source, she simply replied that it was a family piece.

Ironically, I think the reason it descended to Mom was that it was deemed “just an old stick” and “not worth anything” to others who were looking for sales value and not family value.

Wouldn’t it be the greatest of ironies that I inherited this “homely” cane because no one else wanted it and it actually was Traut’s stenz used during his journeying? It had to come from someplace and it was clearly treated as an heirloom for generations even though we don’t know why or where it came from today.

Is this even remotely possible?

______________________________________________________________

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It happened during the opening keynote session at RootsTech 2019 in the cavernous conference hall at the Salt Palace Convention Center in Salt Lake City. The stage lights were shining brightly on Steve Rockwood who was delivering the introductory keynote about connections across generations with our family and ancestors. The rest of the room was movie-theater dark.

Steve was talking about connecting, about how you FEEL, about the extremely strong emotions brought to the surface as we connect with and belong to family, both past and present.

I was but a dot in the massive sea of humanity, huddled side-by-side on plastic chairs in the darkness.

Then I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I ignored it the first couple of times, but when it vibrated a third time, I thought perhaps I should take a look, just in case, with my family so far away.

What I saw was an e-mail from a cousin who I had found a few days earlier. Perhaps “found” isn’t the right word, because I had met Patty some 25 years ago when we had lunch at a local restaurant to discuss our family.

Patty is my second cousin. We didn’t know each other growing up, because our grandmothers lived in different parts of the country – mine in Indiana and hers in Texas. Her grandmother, Mildred was known to me, but I never met Mildred since she lived in Houston, even though she didn’t pass away until 1987.

My own grandmother, Edith, Mildred’s sister, died in 1960, leaving only one other sister, Eloise, the baby who didn’t pass over to join her sisters until 1996 at the age of 92.

My mother was always close to Aunt Eloise, a bond that tightened after my grandmother passed away. Eloise always talked fondly about Mildred who was 4 years her senior, born in 1899.

Back in the 1990s, Patty and I met one time at the local Big Boy Restaurant and exchanged stories. Since then, Patty and I lost touch with each other and we both lost the older generation.

I was quite surprised and pleased to find a DNA match at 23andMe and recognized the person as Patty.

Just before I left for RootsTech, Patty and I exchanged a brief e-mail wherein Patty said she found a letter from Nora, our great-grandmother, to Mildred.

I wrote about Nora Kirsch Lore’s life, here, but Patty had more information that she was willing to share.

That’s the thing about genealogy, you just never know what might pop up.

Nora

Nora’s life began in 1866, just after the Civil War and long before automobiles. Those were the days of horses and buggies. Nora’s daughters rode in the carriage with their father to check on his race horses, shown in the photo below. Nora’s earthly journey ended just 6 years before the beginning of the space race.

It’s hard to fathom that one person’s life could be bracketed by that much change in only 82 years.

I recently found a few newspaper articles that mentioned Nora.

In 1921 Nora was living in Wabash, Indiana, then Chicago, Illinois later in 1921, 1922 and 1923. She followed where her husband’s job took them.

By 1930, Nora was living in Wabash again, and the 1930 census tells us that her mother, Barbara Drechsel Kirsch was living with her. They rented a house on Sinclair Street and Nora gave her marital status as widowed.

Nora had married her second husband, Thomas Harry McCormack, in 1916 in Rushville, Indiana.

In 1920 they were married and living together, but sometime between 1920 and 1930, they separated.

Eloise or mother told me that Nora believed McCormack was dead, and that could be why she called herself a widow in 1930. It could also have been due to embarrassment. Nora and Tom never divorced, but she also wasn’t exactly married either. He just left and she had no idea where he was.

I recently found a death certificate for Tom indicating that he died on May 1, 1936 in Chicago. Mother mentioned that eventually, someone in his family told Nora that he was dead. She wasn’t notified when his death occurred.

In the 1940 census, Nora was still living in the same location in Wabash, at 123 West Sinclair, with a note that the information was provided by a neighbor. I’ve never seen that type of note before. I wish all census takers made notes like that.

Nora is again listed as a widow, and this time, she actually was widowed. Nora was shown as 65 years old, but she was actually 74. Obviously the neighbors perceived her as younger than she was.

In a September 1940 newspaper article published in Rushville, Indiana, Nora mentioned that she was living in LaFountain, Indiana with her daughter, Mildred, but was thinking about “returning some time to Wabash.” She clearly liked Wabash and lived there longer than she lived anyplace else in her life, except perhaps her childhood home of Aurora, Indiana.

On April 28, 1941, the Warsaw (Indiana) Union mentioned that Mrs. Nora McCormick from Wabash was visiting her daughter, Mrs. John Ferverda and family who lived in Silver Lake, Indiana at that time.

My mother would have been 18 years old and she loved her grandmother.

Based on this information, it appears that Nora began living with her daughters in 1940, but may have returned to live in Wabash for some time. On the other hand, the newspaper article may have been inaccurate or made an assumption, knowing Wabash is where Nora had lived. Wabash and LaFontaine are only 10 miles apart.

Mom had a few photos of Nora and we can piece together a bit of her life between 1941 and her departure for other worlds on September 13, 1949.

This photo of Nora appears to have been taken about 1944, judging from the approximate age of the young man in the photo, Mildred’s son, Jerry Martin. Jerry was born in 1924 and I would guess to be about 20 in the photo, or maybe a couple years older.

Based on this information, it appears that Nora began living with her daughters in 1940.

In the last photos of Nora, she has a somewhat vacant or disconnected look on her face that I’ve come to associate with dementia.

If I recall correctly, Mom said Nora went to live with Eloise in Lockport because she really couldn’t care for herself anymore.

Patty’s Information

Patty found two things – a letter and a tax receipt for the mysterious property in Florida.

We had heard about property in Florida for years. We don’t know where it was, who owned it, or when it was either acquired or disposed of.

There’s a photo taken in Florida when Nora was much younger, with “Aunt Lou Fiske” who married Arthur Wellesley in 1920. It’s possible that this Florida property had been in the family for some time, since the 19-teens.

There is also a much later photo of Eloise and Mildred riding bicycles in Florida that I would guess are from perhaps the 1970s. Eloise looks to be in her 50s or 60s and Mildred perhaps in her 60s or even 70s. Given Eloise’s hair style and Mildred’s birth year of 1899, I’d wager this was taken about 1970-1973. I remember Eloise’s hairstyle being wildly popular when I was in high school and Mildred looks to be about 70, give or take.

The properties behind them look to be inexpensive modular type homes, maybe even double-wide trailers. I can’t tell.

Would it be possible for this same property to have been in the family for that long?

We were in luck. The 1940 tax receipt for Nora McCormick was sent to 123 West Sinclair, Wabash, Indiana – the same address where she had lived in both 1930 and the 1940 census and the location of the Florida property was given as lot 19, block 4 in the city of Okeechobee.

Utilizing the Okeechobee GIS system, I found a property matching that description about 25 or 30 miles from the oceanfront beaches that had been discussed in family stories, but much closer to Lake Okeechobee.

The parcel is bordered in red, with the property description card, below.

Today, this property is a vacant lot.

Clearly, this was a plotted subdivision.

It’s not exactly “in” the city as I expected, but this property is listed with a city address.

Using Google Maps, I was able to take a closer look and found the property.

I was able to “drive” down the street, much to my surprise since it’s clearly a dead-end with no center line.

While this property is vacant today, it doesn’t look like it always was. Notice the gravel patch under the tree.

“Driving” up and down the street, some homes are newer, but there are still many remaining that look similar to the homes in the photo of Mildred and her sister, Eloise.

I wonder how Nora was able to afford this property. Who bought it originally, and who sold it? She was widowed with children and no money when her first husband, Curtis Lore, died in 1909, then abandoned by her second husband sometime before 1930.

Perhaps when Barbara, Nora’s mother died, in 1930, Nora inherited something. Patty said that Nora had paid the taxes since about 1935 and that Nora would always send the tax receipts to Mildred, telling her to be sure to save them, because it’s the only proof she had that the taxes were paid. In 1939, the payment was returned because it was 40 cents short.

Clearly, Mildred did a fine job of saving those receipts. We still have this one today, 79 years later!

Nora’s Letter

The second thing that Patty had was a letter from Nora to Mildred, postmarked February 12, 1949.

The handwriting isn’t bad for a woman who was on the far side of her 82^nd birthday.

Amazingly, I can actually read those words that would become the last thing we, her remaining family, have from her. Her handwriting was a little wobbly, but far better than mine ever has been.

By 1949, Nora was living with Eloise in Lockport, New York. Nora had lost one daughter in 1912 to tuberculosis, two and a half years after the same disease took her husband. Nora’s three surviving daughters would have been 61, 50 and 46 that year. Nora had 4 grandchildren, 2 sons by Mildred and a daughter and son by Edith.

Mom was that daughter, Jean, born in 1922.

By 1949, Nora would also have had 5 great-grandchildren, including my brother John born in June of 1943. Unfortunately, Nora’s grandchildren lived no place close to New York so she wouldn’t have been able to see them☹

Nora’s letter reads:

Lockport, New York

Dear Mildred I want to write and thank you for the lovely Tan Kid gloves you sent me for Christmas I sure was so pleased with the gloves they sure were lovely Tan Kid gloves I was so pleased I did need the lovely Kid gloves and I want to thank you for the nice Candy you sent I do love candy and I want to thank you for the lovely candy you sent I do love good candy. But my dear you spent to much on me of course we all enjoy the Candy and I thank you again fore your nice selection of candy and I sure appreciate the nice selection (over) so many thanks to you ? and I sure was surprised by the lovely things and I wish you all a very Happy New Year we are all well and hope you are all well and wish each one of you many more Birthdays. I hope little Johnie is fine and I hope he keeps well I would love to see Him and each one of your family. I do hope Johnie is well and is a fine little fellow and that each and every one is well Wish Jean good health and lots of good Health for little Johnie I Hope he got the little Horse and was so pleased I thought little Johnie would like the little Horse I sent be a good Boy Johnie I hope to see you some time. Hope John and all Keep well we are all well. I’d love to see you all lots of Kisses. Mawmaw. Nora.

I didn’t correct the punctuation or the spelling, because that lends to the authenticity of the letter and the place where Nora was in her life at the moment in time.

I found Nora’s letter heart-wrenching.

Nora clearly did have dementia. There’s no doubt based on this letter which confirmed what I suspected from the photos. We don’t know why she had dementia, of course, but Edith, her daughter was showing signs at 72, although Edith also had undiagnosed heart issues that caused her death. My own mother was having small strokes that probably caused her dementia before her death of a massive stroke at 83.

It took Nora more than 6 weeks to write the thank you letter, although you can clearly tell that she had been excited to receive the gifts and wanted to write the letter. She repeated herself over and over and couldn’t really make conversation about what might have been going on in their lives. If you live just outside of Buffalo, New York in mid-February, you’d likely talk about the snow. But no mention of that or anything else in her world.

Nora seems to be struggling to convey the social niceties, such as saying thank you and wishing everyone well. I so want to hug this woman who died before I was born.

Mildred’s children were Jim and Jerry and neither had a son named John. My mother, Jean, had the only Johnie (Johnny) in the family, and he would have been 5 years old, the perfect age to indeed love a little horse. Nora confused which of her children had daughter Jean, thinking that Mildred would know about Jean and Johnie. Nora’s other daughter, Edith, was Jean’s mother and Johnie’s grandmother.

It’s unclear if Nora had ever seen Johnie who was born in 1943, but one thing is for sure, she never saw him again. By this time, Nora couldn’t travel alone, that’s for sure – although you can feel the aching in her letter to see Johnie – even 70 years after she penned those words.

Eloise never had children, her husband, Warren, having been disabled not long after their marriage in 1929.

In 1949, Eloise was caring for both her mother and her husband, or perhaps her mother and husband were caring for each other while Eloise worked to support the family.

Nora passed away 7 months after she wrote this letter, on September 13, 1949. I don’t have her death certificate, so I don’t know the official cause of death. Maybe Patty knows or has that document.

I do know that Nora specifically requested that she NOT be buried under the surname of McCormack. Her body was transported back to Rushville, Indiana for burial where she was laid to rest beside her daughter and her first husband, Curtis B. Lore, 40 years, shy 2 months after his death – as Nora Lore, not as Nora McCormack. Thomas McCormack had been nothing more than a bad dream, a flash in the pan, as permanently erased as Nora could make him.

Mawmaw

But the final ache in my heart was seeing Nora’s next to last word. Not her name, Nora, but the word Mawmaw.

As I sat in the inky darkeness of the conference center, with Steve Rockwood’s voice in the background, I looked at Nora’s handwriting on the tiny screen between my knees. I read that word and vividly remembered the pink ribbon banner on my mother’s own casket that said “Mawmaw.”

Tears filled my eyes, blurring everything except memories.

Mawmaw was a tradition. Barbara Drechsel, Nora’s mother was probably Mawmaw too, as my mother was to her grandchildren.

Mother was adamant about that. She was never Grandma or anything other than Mawmaw, as my grandmother was to me.

I realized sitting there as Steve talked about traditions and generations that I had failed to understand the importance of Mawmaw. That the grandmothers for who-knows-how-many generations in my family had called themselves and been called Mawmaw. It was right there in this sad letter in Nora’s own handwriting, in what was probably the last letter she ever wrote. She blew kisses and signed off, calling herself Mawmaw. That, she knew clearly.

Without intending to, I had failed to continue an important tradition. I never chose what my grandchildren call me. I should have been Mawmaw. At least a 4 or 5-generation tradition has been lost forever. I wish I had realized.

My son will never be Pawpaw and my granddaughters will never be Mawmaws themselves now either.

I’m sorry.

I’m so very sorry.

It’s such a little thing that’s a big thing that could have been the umbilical cord linking future generations through that special name to the past. A torch to be passed, a right of passage.

A simple word that provides a connection and immediate comfort to those who have their own Mawmaw.

Salve for the soul aching with loss.

On September 13, 1949, as mother dealt with her own broken marriage, fiancé’s death and tragedy following on the heels of World War II, her Mawmaw slipped away forever through the veil of dementia into the twilight beyond.

My very sad mother beside Nora’s grave, not yet covered with grass, at left, beside C. B. Lore’s stone

______________________________________________________________

Disclosure

I receive a small contribution when you click on some (but not all) of the links to vendors in my articles. This does NOT increase the price you pay but helps me to keep the lights on and this informational blog free for everyone. Please click on the links in the articles or to the vendors below if you are purchasing products or DNA testing.

Thank you so much.

DNA Purchases and Free Transfers

• Family Tree DNA
• MyHeritage DNA only
• MyHeritage DNA plus Health
• MyHeritage FREE DNA file upload
• AncestryDNA
• 23andMe Ancestry
• 23andMe Ancestry Plus Health
• LivingDNA

Genealogy Services

• MyHeritage FREE Tree Builder
• MyHeritage Subscription with Free Trial

Genealogy Research

• Legacy Tree Genealogists for genealogy research