Hiram Ferverda and Eva Miller Brought Back to Life – 52 Ancestors #397

Hiram Bauke Ferverda (1854-1925) immigrated from the Netherlands as a boy with his father, step-mother, and family in 1868. I wrote about Hiram here, here, and here.

They sailed in October, the month after Hiram’s 14th birthday. His mother, Geertje Harmens DeJong had died in 1860 when Hiram was six years old. His only surviving full sibling, Hendrik, who came to be known as Henry, was just two days shy of his third birthday when his mother passed away. Their baby sister, only eight months old, had perished three months before their mother.

1860 was filled with tragedy for this family, leaving Hiram’s remaining parent, a school teacher, with two young boys to raise.

In 1863, his father, Bauke Hendrick Ferwerda (1830-1911,) with a surname that morphed to both Ferverda and Fervida in Indiana, remarried Minke “Minnie” Gerb ens Van der Koo. Their first two children were twin girls born a day apart, which probably means just a few minutes before and after midnight, in August of 1864. They were joined by another sister in May of 1867.

When they sailed for America in 1868, the family consisted of Hiram’s father, step-mother, brother Hendrik “Henry” who would have just turned nine, half-siblings Melvinda who was four, her twin Lysbeth who died during the voyage and was buried at sea, and Geertje, who was just 17 months old.

We have only six photos of Hiram Ferveda, even though he lived until 1925. Half of those photos are very distant. There’s only one of his brother, Henry, who led an incredibly sad, short life.

The photos I have of Hiram are second-hand copies from a booklet, so they are very poor quality. I reached out to a photo restoration group on Facebook, and VERY KIND volunteers worked on restoring the Ferverda boy’s faces, along with that of Hiram’s wife, Eva Miller (1857-1939), who I wrote about here and here. Unfortunately, to date, no photos of Hiram’s father have been located, although I still have my fingers crossed given that he lived until 1911.

Hiram (Harmen Bauke) Ferverda (Ferwerda) at left, Henry (Hendrik) Ferverda at right, assuming the Ferverda booklet is labeled correctly.

Here’s the original photo of brothers Hiram and Henry.

I didn’t think there was much hope for restoration, as I had already tried, without much success. Fortunately, other people knew what they were doing.

A very nice man named Ray improved the photo, as did several others.

Then, a photo image genius who I’ll call Angel (a pseudonym, because Angel does not want to have photographic restorations requested) worked on the faces and literally brought them back to life.

I was dumbstruck.

Hiram’s brother, Henry, above.

Hiram Ferverda. Notice his left eye.

I think of Hiram as a dignified silver-haired man in photos with his adult family, not as a youth.

A few days later, I asked for assistance again. Requesters are not allowed to tag a particular volunteer, but I was extremely fortunate that Angel saw my request and once again, very graciously, worked their magic.

In 1876, Hiram married Eva Miller. They obviously went to a portrait studio for the photo above, which is recorded as either being a wedding photo, or near that time. She was 18, soon to be 19, and he was on the cusp of 22. That seems awfully young to marry today but was the norm back then.

Once again, I was incredibly amazed.

But Angel wasn’t finished.

Hiram’s stunning portrait.

I had to sit down and catch my breath. What an incredible gift.

Notice Hiram’s eye again. Whatever condition he had, it’s genetic, because my grandfather, his son, had the same “droopy” left eye, which has continued in some people in the following generations, but not as pronounced.

Here’s Eva Miller as a young woman, remarkably, without her Brethren prayer bonnet. Her hair is drawn back, but not put up on her head. I’d bet her family was very unhappy about this picture. Perhaps Eva was a bit rebellious, at least for a young Brethren woman.

I have to smile, thinking about this chapter in Eva’s life. She did not marry outside the faith, but her sons would unapologetically serve in the military and her husband was a Marshall in Leesburg, so this entire family was a bit renegade. Always Brethren though.

This restored portrait of Eva is so very real and literally made me cry. I can see my mother in her face, almost 150 years after this photo was taken. I wish I could show Mom. I can see myself and my daughter in Eva’s face too, especially when we were younger.

Mom told me that Eva came and cared for her when she was ten years old and terribly ill with rheumatic fever. They forged a special bond. Mom remembered her kindness, and her white prayer bonnet.

The only other photos we have of Eva are poor quality and when she is either older or elderly, with her adult children.

The best one is a chalk drawing. She doesn’t look very happy. I actually wonder if this is Eva or her mother, Margaret Elizabeth Lentz (1822-1903.) The family member who gave it to me identified it as Eva.

Regardless, that’s how I think of Eva – matronly and reserved, wearing her prayer bonnet, with her hair twisted into a bun on her head, not as an incredibly beautiful young woman. I much prefer to think of her as a lovely bride, sitting for her wedding portrait, despite what anyone thought, excited to set up housekeeping with her handsome groom. I’m so very glad that arranged this photo session, because, without that one remaining poor photograph, we would have had no prayer of recovering these wonderful ones.

I’m incredibly grateful to Angel, of course, for bringing my great-grandparents back to life through these stunning portraits as well as for the gift of literally being able to view them as vibrant young people.

_____________________________________________________________

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Marie LaFaille or Mary LaFay (1767-1836): The Battle for Mary’s Soul – 52 Ancestors #396

The difference in the name of Marie Lafaille and Mary Lafay, the same person, is emblematic of her life – a clash of cultures. Tug of war. Catholic versus Protestant – and no – this isn’t Northern Ireland’s Troubles. It’s Canada.

This conflict raged all of her life, beginning before Marie was born to Francois Lafaiille or Lafay as he signed his name, and Marguerite LaForest, Forest or LaForet, until the day Mary, as she was called then, died – and even beyond.

Except Marie/Mary became emblematic of the battle, ensnared in the crosshairs.

Both sides used Marie or Mary as a shining example of what one should aspire to, or, as a shamed example of what one should never do. In the process, or perhaps I should say, during that war, her family was torn apart, never to reconcile.

Ironically, it’s a result of that clash and the role Marie, or Mary, played that we know much about her life. Granted, the information we have is, to some extent, somewhat biased, but at least we have SOMETHING!

I worked on Marie’s history about 15 years ago with now-deceased Paul LeBlanc and others. It’s truly complex. But it’s time to commit to paper what I know, with the hope that others may be able to contribute additional information.

One day, in 2008 or 2009, a tidbit was dropped by a cousin on the now-defunct Acadian RootsWeb message board. He mentioned Marie and “the missionaries”.

The Missionaries?

Missionaries?

What missionaries?

Probably Catholic missionaries, given that Marie was Acadian, but I needed to know more. Any tidbit is a reg flag to genealogists.

Further digging slowly revealed scraps of information like layers of earth being excavated from an artifact. This prized artifact is Marie or Mary’s life.

First, Marie had become protestant. Protestant? An Acadian?

Seriously?

Second, I discovered the name of a book, thankfully in English, that told bits of this story. Henrietta Feller and the Grande Ligne Mission was written to honor the Baptist missionaries, so readers need to interpret the contents in that context.

We had always thought that Marie had been born in Connecticut based on the fact that her aunts and uncles, at least some of them, were deported to Connecticut. Her father, Jacque Fourest is listed there with 10 persons in 1763.

We know that Marie’s mother, Marguerite DeForest, was married about 1765 someplace in New England to Francoise LaFaille, reportedly a French sailor. For the ten years before her marriage, she would have been living with her parents and siblings.

Nothing is known about either Francoise or the LaFaille family.

However, if the missionaries’ records are accurate, they reveal that Marie, who was born in 1767, was born in Boston. Her two directly younger sisters, born in 1769 and 1773, were born in New England too.

I have found no record of Francois Lafaille or Lafay, as Francois always signed his name, and Marguerite deForest, Forest or deForet in Massachusetts, but no record elsewhere in the colonies either.

Francois Lafaille and his wife, Marguerite De Forest (Forest, Foret and derivatives) first appeared in L’Acadie, in lower Canada, in 1788 with 9 of their 10 children. The youngest was born in January of 1789. Marie’s mother was probably pregnant as the family made their way to Canada.

The area broadly known as L’acadie, outlined in red, isn’t far from the St. Lawrence River and Montreal. It’s even closer to Saint-Jean-sur-Richelieu on the Richelieu River.

The Lafay family lived someplace in the L’Acadie farming community, close to Ste-Marguerite-de-Blairfindie Catholic church, at the red arrow. Family members are buried in the cemetery there.

Marie’s parents had their three oldest daughters baptized at Ste-Marguerite-de-Blairfindie in 1789, and their own marriage renewed in 1792. They had been married in the colonies in front of a clerk without benefit of a priest after the 1755 Acadian deportation from Nova Scotia.

On August 10th, 1789, Marie Lafay married Honore Lore, of the Acadian Lore family..

From Paul:

I found the marriage of your ancestor Marie Lafay and Honoré Lord. From what I can read from the original records they were married on August 10, 1789 in L’Acadie, QC parish of Ste-Marguerite-de-Blairfindie. Honoré lord is said to be the son of Honoré Lord and deceased Apolline Garceau. Marie Lafay is said to be the daughter of François Lafay and Marguerite Foret. The following witnesses have signed: Honoré Lord father, Charles Lanoue friend of the spouse, Marie Lafay, Francois Lafay, Françoise Lafay, Marguerite et Suzanne Lafay.

Paul states that the text is handwritten and in French so somewhat difficult to read, and that caution should be used with his interpretation.

Not only is this an incredible record, it gives us the signatures of Marie herself, her new husband, Honore Lore, her father, Francois Lafay in a beautiful script, and two of her sisters. I’m presuming here, that the Marguerite that signed was her sister and not her mother, who would have signed as Marguerite DeForest.

Now that we know where Marie is in 1789, the year she was baptized for the second time and then married, how did she get there?

Marie LaFaille Lore

I discovered additional information in the book, Canadian Baptist Women, edited by Sharon M. Bowler.

“Madame Mary Lore,” in fact, receives her own chapter entitled A Lower Canada Baptist Beginning.

Now, if you’re thinking to yourself, “Weren’t the Acadians Catholic?”, you’d be absolutely right. In fact, Acadians identify themselves by their very Catholicness.

The Acadians had suffered greatly for roughly a century and a half by the time they were horrifically removed from their land in Nova Scotia in 1755. They continued to suffer, many perishing during their exile as impoverished refugees in New England and elsewhere. They had endured extreme deprivations for their Catholic faith, and it sustained them. To turn one’s back on Catholicism was just about the worst act of betrayal one could commit or even conceive of in an Acadian family.

Let me put this in perspective. Marie’s mother, Marguerite DeForest, is the only known child of her parents. Marguerite was born about 1747 or 1748. Her parents were married in 1734 in Port Royal, so they should have had 10 or 12 children, maybe more, before the deportation in 1755. Yet the only child whose birth record we find is Marguerite’s. Did they live elsewhere, outside Port Royal, meaning their children’s baptism records have not survived? Birth control not only didn’t exist, but this family was Catholic. The family was deported because they were Catholic. They lost everything. They suffered. If all of Marguerite’s siblings perished during the deportation, she would have witnessed it all. If they did not perish, where are their records as adults?

Therefore, Marie’s own parents and grandparents had suffered through genocide in order to remain Catholic. Everyone suffered indescribably, many were forever separated, with no idea what happened to their family members, and countless numbers died in the process. No family escaped.

For Marie to leave the fold, the family who experienced and remembered suffering firsthand, to become Baptist was incomprehensible. It’s not a matter of changing churches and attending services at the one down the street.

New believers in any religion are referred to as converts. Converts are often considered betrayers and heretics from the perspective of their former religion, especially if their conversion was by choice, not force.

The author of Canadian Baptist Women explains that conversion from Catholicism to the Baptist faith is more than just occupying a different pew in a church. (Footnotes are mine, not in the original text.)

Baptists differ from Catholics in their use of and belief in the Bible, in their manner of interpreting the way of salvation, justification, the freeness of salvation, grace in regeneration, repentance and sanctification, church and church government, and in the concepts surrounding the understanding of death. A person moving from a Roman Catholic to a Baptist faith foundation took, in many ways, an opposite faith direction, which posed risks to their social, economic, and physical safety.

After reading that, I remind myself how many wars have been fought and sacrileges have been committed over and in the name of religion.

Consequences included shunning, expulsion, ostracization, exclusion from family, business, and social life, exclusion from Catholic burial, and condemnation to Hell.

A Lower Canada Baptist Beginning draws the curtains back on Marie’s story by referring to her as Mary and her married name, Lore. French women were generally referred to, even after marriage, by their birth surname.

Mary Lore’s family was part of the 1755 Acadian expulsion from Nova Scotia to Massachusetts called Le Grand Derangement that drove an entire culture into political, economic and social crisis. The Acadians were not a free people in their new American land and experienced much uncertainty and danger.

Mary was born Marie Lafaille in Boston, Massachusetts to an Acadian mother and French father. Her 1767 Boston birth occurred at a time when many Massachusetts Acadians travelled to Boston to petition for transport to return to Canada.[1] [2]

Some, however, were considering staying, taking into account:

…the dangers of sea travel, which included storms, sinking, contagions and even piracy, recently illustrated by the fate of 80 young Acadians taken and pressed into the service of privateers. They knew that they retained no place or residual rights in Nova Scotia. Moreover, old age, the very ache of their 50-year-old bones, reminded them how difficult it would be to scratch out a new place on leftover and, thus difficult, lands. Just perhaps, they still resisted taking an oath to the throne…Just possibly they and their children began to envision rural Massachusetts as home…children had no doubt learned English and accustomed themselves to the ways of these strangers. Time had not resulted in their isolation, and familiarity with Protestants and colonial law had not bred contempt.[3]

Perhaps the Lafaille family had settled in and become somewhat established over the 11 years since the expulsion from Nova Scotia began. Children had been born and others were nearly raised. Mary was educated in a Protestant school and learned to read the Bible there.

Someplace along the line, Marie Lafaille became Mary LaFay, spelled the way it sounded in English. Her father signed his surname the same way.

In 1766, a year before Marie’s birth, a Massachusetts delegation visited Quebec and obtained permission for Acadians to return.

Yet, Marie’s family did not move to Quebec at that time. They didn’t join other Acadian families until sometime about 1788, more than two decades later.

We know that the family was in L’Acadie on the Richelieu River in Quebec by January 6, 1789, when Marie and two of her sisters, Marguerite and Susanne, were baptized in the Catholic Church.

On January sixth Seventeen Hundred Eighty Nine, I, priest undersigned, baptized conditionally Marie, age twenty-one, Marguerite, age nineteen, and Suzanne, age sixteen and ten months, daughters of François La Faye and of Marguerite Foret. The godfather and godmother of Marie were Laurent Roy and Isabelle Bro, his wife, undersigned. The godfather and godmother of Marguerite were Pierre Lavoie and Marie Anne Melanson, his wife. The godfather and godmother of Suzanne were Pierre Trahant and Euphrosine Leroux. [These last] godfathers and godmothers declared that they were unable to sign. The baptized girls signed with us.

/s Lamité, priest,  Laurent Roy, Isabelle bro, Marie Lafay, Margit Lafay, Suzanne Lafay, Françoise Lafay.

If Marie was 21 on January 6th, she very likely was still to experience her 1789 birthday, in which she would turn 22, placing her birth in 1767.

Just five days later, their youngest sister, Francoise, was born and baptized the same day.

Marie was her sponsor, signed her name, and stood up at her sister’s baptism, swearing before God, the church, and the parishioners that she would raise her sister in the church should something happen to her parents.

A Clue

One clue about where they might have lived is that sometime before the family left Massachusetts, Mary said that she received a Bible from Pliny Moore, an American military Lieutenant, a Baptist, and then a Congregational Church leader. Pliny was born into a wealthy Sheffield, Massachusetts family in 1759.

Pliny’s family was in Great Barrington, Massachusetts, by 1764 and in Spencertown, NY, by 1770, where his parents remained.

Many Acadians were, in essence, “adopted” or sponsored by wealthy Massachusetts families. Pliny served in the American Revolution in New York, then settled in Champlain shortly thereafter.

Mary reportedly cherished that Bible from Pliny for the rest of her life. I can’t help but wonder if it survives now.

From the book, Canadian Baptist Women:

Roman Catholic church histories have focused on the power and authority of Catholic leadership over the souls of the congregation. Baptists, however, unlike Roman Catholics of the 20th century, emphasized their personal relationship with God.

Years later, Mary said she enjoyed reading the Bible as a child, but she was no longer allowed to read the Bible after her Catholic baptism in 1789.

Mary was the first Baptist convert in Quebec. She eventually became one of the earliest founders of the Grande Ligne Baptist Mission in Quebec, on the Richelieu River. But how did she get there, and why?

The L’Acadie Area

In 1784, the area near Champlain, New York, on the border of New York and Canada, was settled by Scotch and French-Canadian refugees on lands granted by the State of NY to those who fought against the British during the Revolutionary War.

In 1787, Pliny Moore, a veteran, obtained land where Champlain, New York, would eventually be located. In 1788, Pliny surveyed the land and in 1789, he moved his family. Champlain is just downriver from l’Acadie, so perhaps these families planned their move together, and maybe even joined each other on the journey. Somehow Marie and Pliny knew each other, and their lives intersected many more times.

According to what Mary told the Baptist missionaries, her elderly grandmother, who would have been Marie Josèphe Le Prince, became upset in 1787 that her children were losing their religion and culture and made the decision to send the family back to Canada.

Mary also revealed that she had encouraged her father to make the 1788 trip to Canada after something she recalled as “a fearful disappointment.” I wonder if her disappointment was personal in nature, perhaps a suitor, or something more widespread. It is interesting to note that Pliny Moore was married in January of 1787 in Vermont. It may or may not be relevant, but it is a possibility.

We don’t know what Mary’s disappointment was, but according to historian Joseph Amato’s research into one Acadian family, Marie’s family’s experience may have been similar.

The Revolutionary War magnified federal and state debts, leaving the majority with useless currency and no means to repay debts, turning newly ordained national citizens into ordinary migrants and squatters. The battle raged between creditors and debtors. Between the financial and mercantile coast against the farmers of the inland countryside. Shay’s Rebellion, an intense revolt of the indebted in Massachusetts resulted in a terrible shock to the new nation. It ended in 1787 having accomplished little. Many migrated back to the larger coastal cities where there was a chance to find work and make money, or initiating the great trek inward toward the frontiers.

And so, the great trek it was.

Mary’s grandmother was probably ecstatic, but ultimately, Mary was not. After arriving in l’Acadie, Mary later said that she was forced to stop reading her Bible when she was baptized in January 1789 “under condition,” along with her sisters, into the Catholic Church.

Under condition in the Catholic church means that there is some doubt as to whether a person was ever baptized, or if so, whether the former Catholic baptism is valid.

Mary could not have married a Catholic man were she not baptized into the church. The only men in Quebec were Catholic.

Marriage

Did Mary not want to marry Honore Lore? Was this an arranged marriage, if not in the traditional sense, then in the functional? She was baptized on January 6th and married on August 10, 1789.

It might be relevant that her first child, Joseph, was born on March 8th, 1790, so Mary and Honore clearly had a close relationship by June. Young people fall in love quickly. The marriage does not appear to have been arranged, although it may have been somewhat unplanned. I feel much better knowing there was an attraction between them, and that Mary appears to have had a choice.

Mary and Honore had at least 15 children, and man oh man, have they been difficult to track. I’m still not positive I have everyone accounted for.

I’ve used various pieces of information to weave the family together. Baptism, marriage and death records, the 1851, 1861 and 1871 Canadian census, and estate records. I’ve not been able to locate the baptism record, or death record, for every child. “Confirmed” in the table below means that I have some confirmation. Unfortunately, due to same-name and other issues, there’s a lot of incorrect information about this family online.

Fortunately, French Catholic priests’ records tend to be very good about recording the names of the parents in the various documents, plus the mother’s birth surname. Thank goodness! Reading them both from a script and image quality perspective is quite another matter.

Bolded names signed their father’s estate inventory in 1834.

Child Birth or Baptism Death or Burial Spouse Religion
Joseph Lore March 8, 1790 confirmed May 30, 1835, confirmed he was married to Celeste Celeste Coulombe confirmed married in 1815 Catholic buried St. Jean l’Evangeliste in St. John sur Richelieu
Samuel Lore August 31, 1791 confirmed Jan 23, 1821 confirmed Archange Hubert (Hebert) confirmed Nov. 7, 1814 Catholic, died before Marie’s conversion
Marie Elizabeth Lore – listed as Baptist in 1851 census, but stricken through May 1, 1793 confirmed February 20, 1857 buried Grande Ligne confirmed Jean-Baptiste Leveque (Elizabelle in 1819 marriage record) Baptized and buried Feb. 20 at Baptist church, Grande Ligne
Marie (Josephte) Lore December 19, 1794 confirmed After 1871 Single in 1861 & 1871 census, “deaf and dumb” The birth is shown as 1797 or 1798 in all three censuses. No burial found
Marie (Victoire) Lore (twin) July 17, 1796 confirmed June 30, 1831 buried St, Jean sur Richelieu – her husband was listed as Catholic in 1851 as were the children. Albert Patenaude. She is listed as Marie Victoire Laure in her 1819 marriage) He signs estate. Also remarried in Nov. of 1831. Catholic, died before Marie’s conversion
Hyppolite Lore (twin) July 17, 1796 confirmed July 18, 1796 confirmed, buried l’Acadie The baptism says Marie and Hippolite.and is signed by father. Catholic, died as child
Alexis Lore (twin) March 24, 1798 confirmed July 28, 1874 or 1875 buried l’Acadie – Grande Ligne Baptist, confirmed Never married, single on all census Baptist, 1861 census shows him as a Baptist farmer age 60
Pierre Lore (twin) March 24, 1798 confirmed July 1, 1799 buried l’Acadie confirmed Catholic, died as child
Benoni Lore February 6, 1800 confirmed (father signed) Sept 15, 1888 buried Grande Ligne, confirmed Francoise Therrien, married 1823 confirmed Listed as Baptist in 1851 census, but stricken through
Honore Lore March 21, 1802 (confirmed) February 23, 1882, confirmed Henriette Molleur confirmed 1828

Louise Piedalue

Baptist in 1851 census, buried Grande Ligne
Rene Zephyrin Lore August 26, 1803 confirmed signed by Honore November 5, 1877 Marie-Rose Lecuyer confirmed 1833 Baptist in 1861 census, buried Grand Ligne
Antoine “Anthony” Lore March 24, 1805 confirmed 1862/1868 Warren Co., PA Rachel Hill confirmed 1831 Unknown, not Catholic
Celeste Lore September 13, 1806 – cannot find baptism January 13, 1860, Hebron, NY confirmed Jean-Baptiste Labossiere – marriage record in St. Luc says child of Hilaire Laure de St Jean and Francoise LaFaris or Lafave Baptist, child married at Grande Ligne in 1847
Pierre Lore March 17, 1808 – confirmed September 3, 1814 buried l’Acadie confirmed Catholic
Marguerite Lore April 24, 1810 confirmed March 11, 1855, confirmed Laurent Labossiere Catholic buried l’Acadie

It’s interesting that Marie had two sets of twins.

Of these children, nine, in bold, signed Honore’s estate inventory record after his death in April 1834. I’ll be telling that story separately, as a kind soul has offered to translate the documents for me as she can.

Their three living, married, daughters signed with their husbands on Honore’s estate inventory which helped confirm Marie’s children, but I still can’t sort them out entirely.

Marie had two children who never married – Alexis and a female recorded as Marie, Marie J. and Josephte Lore/Lord in various censuses. I finally found her birth record, but never found a burial record. She’s recorded as Baptist, so clearly buried at Grande Ligne.

Josephte Lord, a 63-year-old single Baptist woman, is noted as “deaf and dumb,” meaning she could not hear, so she consequently could no speak. Dumb did not mean unable to learn, although without being able to communicate, learning was impossible.

In the 1851 census, Rene, Alexis (age 51) and a female named Marie J. Lord, age 54, are all recorded in the same positions, as they are for the 1861 and 1871 census too. This suggests, strongly, that all of these people are living in Rene Lord’s household.

In the 1861 and 1871 censuses, she is listed adjacent, then with, Rene Lord’s family, and also beside Alexis Lord, also single. We know that the census has recorded Rene’s and Alexis’s ages incorrectly, so Josephte’s may be wrong too.

Mary must have worried incredibly about this daughter who clearly could neither make her own way in the world, nor protect herself from becoming vulnerable and being taken advantage of. Today, she could have learned to speak and communicate, enlarging her world beyond silence. It’s also worth noting that she did not sign her father’s estate inventory, probably because they could not communicate with her at that level.

Her family took care of her all of her life.

Marie/Mary Lafaille/Lafay Lore died in August of 1836, which means that she buried six of her children, three as adults – one just a year before her death.

  • Marie Hippolyte, one of a set of twins, died the day after her birth in 1796.
  • Marie had a set of twin boys born in 1798. One, Pierre, died at 16 months of age in the summer of 1799.
  • They apparently tried naming a child Pierre again, but the second Pierre died in 1814 when he was six.
  • Samuel, her second oldest child died at age 30 in 1821.
  • Her daughter Marie died at 34 years of age in 1831.
  • Son Joseph died at 45 in May of 1835.

Mary helped care for and nurture several orphaned grandchildren in addition to a daughter who could not hear or speak, and a male child who never married.

These children who preceded Mary in death would have been buried in the Catholic cemetery at Ste. Marguerite de Blairfindie. If they ever had stones, they don’t today.

1808 – Fork in the Road

Something happened in Mary’s life in 1808. Somehow, Mary retrieved her Bible that had been given to her by Pliny Moore. Mary was 41 years old and explained to the Baptist missionaries that she realized, with her reading of the scriptures, that she could no longer follow the Roman Catholic Church, although the rest of her family remained committed to that faith. According to Canadian Baptist Women, “She found that it was a struggle to keep her growing family (she eventually had 8 children), her husband and parents respectful of her Bible as she shared it with them.”

It appears that, in some way, Mary maintained contact with Pliny Moore, who lived just downstream in Champlain until his death in 1822. Moore was involved in the fur trade business in lower Canada. He had connections, owned property and businesses in Montreal. In other words, he would have gone back and forth, either by water or horseback.

The path from Champlain to Montreal was up Lake Champlain, the Richelieu River, and right past L’Acadie where Mary lived. If Pliny took the road, he would have literally gone right past Mary’s home, probably regularly stopping to visit.

In 1814, Moore was able to obtain a French Bible for Mary. She stated that it enabled her to “better understand her growing walk with the Lord.”

It seems that about this time, Mary reached a turning point in her religious life. She went for confession in the Catholic church, and according to her report, “unexpectedly and suddenly realized during this confession that the priest had no right to intervene on her behalf in her personal relationship with the Lord.”

In Champlain, Pliny Moore was becoming increasingly more evangelical and influential. In 1816, Mary obtained from Pliny a copy of the Bible for each of her children. Ironically, it was eventually through her adult children that she learned of the Baptist missionary work that was undertaken.

We know nothing more of Mary’s religious leanings between 1816 and 1835 when Mary Lore is reported as being the first French Canadian Baptist convert, but we do know more about her family.

Family Challenges

Like all families of that time, Marie, or Mary would have faced her share of grief and joy. A woman’s family was more than a full-time responsibility and Mary had a very large family.

In July of 1794, daughter Marie Josephte was born, probably without hearing. Since she never spoke, it’s unlikely that she had ever been able to hear. It would have been some time before the family realized that Marie could not hear, and they would have developed some form of communication with her.

In July of 1796, a twin daughter, Marie Hippolyte, was born and died the following day.

In 1798, her next pregnancy was also twins – both boys. One, Pierre, died 16 months later.

The 1808 event that may have precipitated Mary’s religious crisis, of sorts, could have been related to the birth of a second child named Pierre.

Mary’s last child was born in 1810 when she was 43 years old. That child, along with the rest were baptized Catholic.

In September of 1814, her son Pierre died, a little boy of six and a half. We don’t know if Pierre had some sort of life-altering issue from birth, or if he simply fell victim to the many childhood ills that claimed so many.

That happens to be the same year that Mary obtained the French Bible from Moore, so she may have been seeking comfort.

Three months later, son Samuel married, but he too would die in 1821.

Mary’s mother, Marguerite DeForest died in 1819. It’s never easy when parents die, but at least her parents lived long lives, in spite of their years in exile.

Elizabeth married in 1819, followed by Benoni in 1823.

Mary’s father, Francois Lafay died in 1824.

Son Antoine, by then using the name Anthony, married in Starksboro, Vermont in 1831, so he had clearly left home before that time.

Rene married about the same time, as did daughter, Celeste.

Then, Mary’s eldest son Joseph died on May 30, 1831, just 41 years old.

Mary must have been crushed every time a child died. Deaths as babies are bad enough, but adult children who died have been loved by their mother for decades, not days or months. Furthermore, she also would have had to watch her grandchildren’s mourning and grief, too.

Grandchildren are every grandmother’s soft spot.

Mary’s husband, Honore Lore died on March 5, 1834. But she wasn’t done yet,

Mary’s son, Joseph died on May 30, 1835 at 45 years of age.

Mary’s children were all married, except Alexis and Marie Josephte who never married.

The Missionaries Arrive

It just so happens that this cascade of grief occurred about the time that the Baptist missionaries were increasing their presence, amidst almost universal resistance, in lower Quebec. Mary’s daughter had died in 1831, followed three years later by Honore’s death. Then, only 13 months later, her adult son perished too.

Mary was at her lowest point of grief, having lost her husband and adult children in a short time. She would have been emotionally quite vulnerable, seeking comfort that she was no longer finding in the Catholic church.

Mary’s life was about to change. In many ways, it seems that she became one of the spoils of war, with both sides fighting over her. She served as a symbol of something much larger.

From Canadian Baptist Women:

Swiss missionary Louis Roussy arrived in Grande Ligne to take charge of a Roman Catholic school. His Protestant evangelism there found him without a position within only two months of his arrival, when “the parish priest having heard of ‘his evangelizing’ had the school closed by his sole authority.”

Madame Feller, another Swiss missionary encountered similar issues in Montreal, and sought refuge in Grande Ligne in 1836. When Mary eventually met these missionaries, they were both failing in their ministry. It took Mary’s intervention in their ministry to begin the work at the Grand Ligne Mission.

The Roussy family led the Baptist charge, as told in Henrietta Feller and the Grande Ligne Mission:

On Jan. 29, 1836, Henrietta Feller was not yet in L’Acadie as shown by her letter. She notes that M. Roussy obtained a school in L’Acadie.

“Meanwhile M. Roussy had obtained a school at L’Acadie. He held it for two months only. His evangelical leanings could not be endured by the priest of the district; for he preached from house to house. Dismissed from the school, he resolved to engage in Gospel work as an evangelist, and soon had cause to thank God for the enforced change. Several instances of conversion occurred, and there were promising appearances of a spiritual harvest.” (Cramp)

April 22, 1836 – another letter.

The opposition of Romanists to Protestants, existing for ages, was active at the time under review, and it was not strange that after six months of Christian activity in Montreal, the hotbed of Romanism in the Canadas, it should become unendurable. The priests and the nuns succeeded in closing all doors against Madame Feller. But she had become acquainted with the people, their character, ways and religious ideas, and thus prepared herself for the larger work which Providence had in reserve for her. Montreal, closed now to the Gospel for the French, was to be opened at a later day and a good degree of success achieved.

“Mr. Roussy remained but ten days in Montreal and then left for Grande Ligne to take charge of a primary school entirely Roman Catholic. After his school hours he would devote his time to making the Gospel known around him. The parish priest having heard of this had the school closed by his sole authority, none of the parties interested having the courage to make any opposition, to retain a school teacher superior to any one they had known before.”

Madame Feller, thus compelled to leave Montreal, retreated to St. Johns, where she first landed.

She engaged rooms there for herself and a school, she entered the place on May 20th. Mr. Roussy united with her in effort in that place, hoping to establish a preaching station. But it also seemed to be a barren field.

“Priestly opposition could not be overcome. He had obtained the use of the Methodist chapel and sought to gain an introduction for the Gospel by colportage. All his endeavors were useless. Not only did the inhabitants of St. Johns, generally, refuse to listen to him, but some of them employed force. The French-Canadian women set themselves against the truth, and so maltreated Mr. Roussy that he was compelled to desist from his labors.”

Madame Feller’s account of the situation is thus given: “We came to St. Johns, feeling our way, and considering it as a place of observation, in which we might ascertain whether we should pitch our tent there or in any other spot. We had not long to wait before we saw that this village shut all its doors against us. Brother R. began to preach. At first he had a few hearers, but after a little while no one attended. He tried to publish the Gospel from house to house, but with two or three exceptions he was ill treated and driven away. At one place he was beaten by a crowd of women who fell upon him, armed with sticks. This was noised abroad. ‘The minister who was beaten ‘ was the subject of common talk, and hatred became more violent.” Contempt easily grew into hatred.

“I had made the acquaintance of a considerable number of women, to whom I read and explained the word of God. They listened for a time, and some of them seemed to be seeking the truth; but it was not even ‘the morning dew.’ I soon saw that they were influenced by self-interest; they would have willingly left off going to mass if I had paid them well. As there is no free school here, I offered to instruct their children. My offer was joyfully accepted, and I began a school; but the priest forbade them to allow their children to come to me, and the project fell to the ground.” The expenses of living, including the cost of keeping a horse, so necessary to Mr. Roussy, were so heavy as to justify their removal.

During their short stay in St. Johns, they had a token from the Lord which sustained their belief that He was pleased with their offering of themselves on His altar. It was the example of one who had forsaken popery and had the privilege of protesting against its tyranny in a public way. One of the converts in I’Acadie had died, witnessing to the saving power of Christ to the very last, in the face of contempt from Romanists, even of her own domestic circle. It was Madame Lore, who figures strongly in the starting of the Grande Ligne Mission.

She was the daughter of a French sailor, who lived near to Boston and where she passed her childhood years. She then enjoyed the privilege of hearing and reading the word of God. But her father was married to a Catholic and removed to Canada, and there she also married a Catholic, embraced his religion and practiced it for twenty years.

It is very interesting in that Mary’s father is identified as a French sailor. Elsewhere her birth location is given as Boston.

Witches?

From Canadian Baptist Women:

Mary met the missionaries through her son Alexis, and when Missionary Roussy was driven from his school by the priest, Mary invited him to hold his first church services in 1835 with her son-in-law Jean-Baptiste Leveque and her daughter Elizabeth in their home in Grande Ligne. The story describes a young girl who was in fact Mary’s granddaughter, and who was also Madame Feller’s pupil. This story documents some of the difficulties faced by the missionaries and places Mary’s family at the center:

The general belief they entertained concerning the two first missionaries was that they were witches. Madame Feller was, in their estimation, the greater one, for she had taught a young girl to read fluently in two weeks, while in other schools this was not accomplished in less than two years.

This was for awhile so firmly established among Canadians that some did not even dare to touch her garments, much less to allow her to come into their houses. A short time after that, when the mission house was almost finished, the priests thought it expedient to invent some new tale, relative to the missionaries, that would keep their parishioners from being led astray by the Protestants. From the pulpit resounded declarations which struck the people with terror.

It was stated by the priests that Satan had made a sort of bargain with M. Roussy to this effect: “This heretic,” to use their expression, was engaged to delude a certain number of souls for a certain sum of money, and according to their opinion, he was building, with that money, a magnificent dwelling house for the purpose of alluring the souls of men with greater facility.

Of course, it was the Mission that was believed to be the Devil’s House, and the article goes on to explain that the neighbors reported all types of horrible sounds resulting from demonic battles emanating from Roussy’s home.

Mary’s Conversion

A Baptist minister recorded the circumstances of Mary’s conversion stating that she was a Catholic for about 20 years after her marriage, “though not without much uneasiness of mind.”

He went on to say that after Pliny Moore, then referred to as Judge Moore, had given Marie the French Bible, she had been “reminded of the days of her youth and resisted her convictions and extinguished the light which once gleamed over her mind. The last 20 years of her life had been spent in folly.”

Given Mary’s baptism in 1789, this puts her realization about 1809.

Mary reportedly decided to go for confession but could not utter a word. The priest, disgusted, reportedly absolved her of her sins and told her to go away. Mary reportedly said, “Can this be the right way. He has absolved my sins, yet he does not know what they are. This cannot be the right way,” resolving never to go to confession again.

Apparently, Mary still attended church from time to time, until the Priest was warning against reading the Bible and said, “The reading of the Scriptures by the common people is like mixing poison with good bread. The person eats the bread without suspecting poison is in it, and only learn the evil by the consequences which ensue.”

After that, Mary never returned to the Catholic church, although I do wonder if she attended her grandchildren’s baptisms and her children’s funerals. I have not reconstructed her children’s families, but I imagine she had several grandchildren that died as well.

Mary’s foiled confession may have occurred sometime between 1814 and 1818, because her next recorded act was obtaining Bibles for her children.

She reportedly anguished greatly during this time period because of the manner in which she had raised her children, meaning in the Catholic church. No one said this, but I also wonder if she blamed their disabilities and deaths on herself and questioned whether or not their souls were in Heaven or Hell. Of course, this questioning would also have extended to any grandchildren who perished during this time too.

Poor Mary.

Henrietta Feller and the Grande Ligne Mission:

Recalling her early habits of reading the Bible, she again turned to it and continued to peruse it to the end of her life; was enlightened and renounced Romanism. It was not until her sixty-eighth year, however, that she met the needed help to becoming a Christian; not until Mr. Roussy went to L’Acadie to labor. He was the means of securing to her the joys of pardon. After making her acquaintance he went to visit one of her married daughters, residing at Grande Ligne, and gladly was admitted to her home, with the privilege of preaching there. Great blessings followed the conversion of souls and the full, successful introduction of evangelical religion among the French Romanists of Canada.

I’d wager that Mary’s daughter, Elizabeth Leveque, was her best friend. Probably her only friend. At least Mary had one accepting family.

Mary was clearly estranged, if not immediately, then shortly, from the rest of her children. I wonder about Marie Josephte, who clearly would not have understood, and Alexis. Did Alexis live with Mary? I would wager that he did.  

Canadian Baptist Women:

The Baptists believed that “Brother Roussy has removed the darkness from her mind and introduced her to the marvelous light of the gospel…she was filled with joy and peace. From this time to the day of her death, she walked with God. Her spiritual journey in this world was short and her end was peace – she fell asleep in Jesus.”

This was written within a year of her death because the preacher says “she went to slumber there sometime in August last.”

Another minister, Rev. Lafleur added about Mary:

She was married to Mr. Lore, a good Catholic, and for 20 years she lived without the gospel, without being allowed to read it, and also without confidence in the religious practices she had to perform. It was a most miserable life to her, so much so that those who knew her well would say that the tears she had shed would be sufficient to turn a mill.

After 20 years of such a life, and after the death of her old parents [1819 and 1824], Mrs. Lore returned to her previous book again, and when she met our missionaries, she had been reading it for 28 years [1807 or 1808], in the midst of a continual spiritual struggle. She saw the truth but dimly and surrounded as she was, she found no one to whom she could open her mind and who could understand her. She was often heard to say to her children: “I shall have a most fearful death, for I know that I have been induced to practice what is not the truth: the truth is here, pointing to her Bible, and I have not followed it.” She had such a high regard for the Bible that going one to Champlain Village, procured from Judge Moore a copy of the Holy Scriptures for every one of her children.

When she heard of this strange school teacher, who read the Holy Scriptures to the children in the school at Grande Ligne, and in houses around, she hastened to see him. After a few moments of conversation, she exclaimed: “The Lord has heard my prayers. He has not despised my tears. This is God’s servant. I know it. This is the man of God whom I had asked of Him these many years.” She very soon found sweet peace in believing – a peace that never was disturbed during the eight months that she lived in this world after her conversion.

We learn several things from this entry, although I have to wonder if some of this information was exaggerated.

If Mary was truly that chronically miserable, did she suffer from a mental health condition, perhaps clinical depression? Her euphoric death might suggest drastic mood swings that might be classified today as bi-polar disease.

Part of what makes me wonder is what I know of her descendant generations. Her son, Anthony Lore, disappeared. He may have drowned or been murdered – at least that’s the story. At least one of Anthony’s children suffered from mental health issues that would probably be quite treatable today. His son spent time institutionalized, as did two of Anthony’s granddaughters who were sisters.

I truly hope Mary was not as miserable as described for what seems to encompass her entire adult life. I hope the missionaries were speaking in hyperbole in order to convert and convince others.

Mary referenced a great disappointment before they moved back to Canada, then seemed unhappy from the time they arrived until 8 months before her death 47 years later. That sounds absolutely horrible.

I wonder who prevented Mary from reading the Bible, if she was actually “prevented” from reading the Bible. Was it hidden someplace? I wonder at this, given that she was eventually given a French Bible that no one prevented her from reading. Was the real issue that her English had been forgotten over time?

Was this incident exaggerated by the missionaries? The story about Mary being forbidden and prevented from reading her Bible would have engendered outrage and sympathy.

In a different excerpt, I was given to understand that her son Alexis was in the missionary school class, but given that Alexis was born in 1798, unless adults were being taught, which is entirely possible, Alexis was about 37 or 38 tears old when this occurred. It’s also very possible that Alexis was learning-impaired.

We have Mary’s death date in August of 1836, so we know that her “conversion,” such as it is, occurred about December of 1835.

Christmas that year, her last one on earth, must have been very interesting – and probably very strained.

Henrietta Feller and the Grande Ligne Mission:

Mrs. Lore became a great help to Mr. Roussy. Her heart and house were open at all times. She gave him the use of her horse and cariole for his missionary tours, and sent her son to conduct him over roads with which he was not acquainted; always waiting and watching for their arrival at whatever hour of the night.

Was this son, Alexis who probably lived with Mary?

The next quotes are from Missionary Roussy in Canadian Baptist Women:

The baptism of our first four Canadians, and the celebration of the Lord’s Supper the following day made a deep impression upon the rest of our Canadians. Mary Leveque and one of her aunts, the wife of Honore Lore were baptized which was made a great blessing to them.

Religion is the great concern, from the youngest to the oldest. These things have produced very contrary effects; some seek for and read the word of truth, whilst others insult and threaten us, and do us every kind of injury to an extent never before attempted.

Rev. Lafleur continues:

“She was seen to come on foot to the meetings held at Grande Ligne to hear the preaching of the Holy Word. At the time of her departure drew near, her Roman Catholic neighbors, accustomed to see infidels repent and return at the last hour in submission to the Church, they expected that she would also at last submit and accept the offices of the Priest. In a glowing heart she bore her affectionate testimony of the Savior as the All Sufficient One at the hour of death. The whole family, composed of eight children and many grandchildren, after her example, left the Church of Rome to embrace the Gospel.

This excerpt is interesting because it says she had eight children, but that’s incorrect. This clearly refers to the eight children they knew of at the time of her death. She had nine living children when she died, and had born fifteen in total – that we know of. Furthermore, they did not all leave the Catholic church, or if they did, one returned.

Mary had several more children who had died, including one recently, in 1835, but the point of this commentary was to emphasize the conversions.

I determined Mary’s children’s religion based on several pieces of evidence. The 1851, 1861 and 1871 census, plus the burial locations of her children who died after her death.

Six of Mary’s children were buried in the Baptist Grande Ligne cemetery or otherwise had interactions with the church there:

  • Elizabeth
  • Alexis
  • Benoni
  • Honore
  • Rene
  • Celeste

Marie Josephte was probably also buried there given that she lived with Rene and Alexis.

Two of Mary’s adult children were buried in Catholic cemeteries, which generally means they were Catholics in good standing at the time of their death:

  • Joseph
  • Marguerite

Of course, all of Mary’s children who died before her death were buried in the Catholic cemetery.

Two children moved away:

  • Anthony Lore – not Catholic, burial, if any, unknown, reportedly drowned in a river·
  • Celeste – Moved to and died in Hebron, New York, probably not Catholic given that her child was married at the church in Grande Ligne

Mary’s Final Illnesss

Roussy reports that in her final illness, a great number of people visited Mary. I get the distinct impression that most of them had an agenda. And the Baptists, not wanting to miss an opportunity, even if it was at the side of a dying woman’s bed, utilized the opportunity to evangelize to all her visitors.

Shortly, we will see that perhaps Mary’s family wasn’t as quick to leave the Catholic church as Roussy stated, or maybe there was something else afoot.

Something was very definitely wrong. Information seems to contradict each other.

Henrietta Feller and the Grande Ligne Mission:

On being fatally ill, Madame Feller and Mr. Roussy attended her constantly, and were made glad by the continual testimony she bore to the saving grace of Christ, and her unswerving opposition to Romanism and to the offices of the priests when urged upon her by a neighbor.

As her sufferings became excessive her anxiety to depart and be with Christ increased, and often she asked that her pulse might be examined and she informed if the moment of release were not near. At length her suffering abated; the end was at hand, and her countenance was radiant with peace and joy.

A great number visited her during her sickness, and the missionaries were by no means neglectful of the opportunity for talking Christ to them.

She desired to see all of her relatives before her death, but many of them refused to visit her, claiming that she had dishonored her family by changing her religion, and accusing her of having brought on her death by fatiguing journeys to Grande Ligne to attend meetings there. Her home was about two leagues [six miles] from the place of meeting, and when the horses were needed for something else she walked, never failing to go. In reply to expression of surprise that one of her age should be able to walk so far, especially as she had not shown the ability previously, she said, “I serve so good a Master this year; He increases my strength.”

So, a great many people visited her, but her relatives did not? This is contradicted in further writings stating that her children were at her bedside. However, the missionaries also claim that the reason that Henrietta Fuller and Roussey were attending Mary, is because her family would or could not.

Canadian Baptist Women:

Roussy wrote about Mary’s deathbed testimony in a letter for the Christian Watchman and was unusually detailed, perhaps because Mary was an “ordinary woman” in extraordinary circumstances – just when the Baptists needed an example in Canada.

It was on the night between the 5th and 6th instant that our sister Lore was seized with a violent inflammation of the intestines. We were apprised of it early in the morning and immediately Mrs. Feller and myself proceeded to her house, when she received us with joy. From this moment, Mrs. Feller did not leave her night or day, for none of her own family was able to give her the numerous attentions requisite during her severe illness.

She was so thankful to God and blessed him that he had sent Mrs. Feller such a distance to do her so much kindness; she was so humble that she thought herself unworthy of all the tender cares with which she was surrounded, and the love of God and the brethren which she experienced.

From the beginning of her sickness our blessed sister manifested the most true and solid piety which the heart could display. She foresaw that she would not get better, and therefore was occupied only with her latter end. All the things of earth were viewed as nothing with her; her treasure and her heart were on high. She showed no impatience in her pains, though they were extremely sharp, but blessed the Lord that he spared her from more excessive pains. “It is on account of my sins – it is on account of my sins,” she said, “that I am suffering so much. I deserved to suffer a great deal more, even everlasting condemnation, but Jesus has delivered me from it. He has pardoned all my sins, although they are very numerous.”

The night of Monday which was the last of her life, her children, Mrs. Feller and I were all together, near her, in prayer and conversation about our heavenly citizenship.

Note here that he states that her children are present.

Just then, at 2 o’clock in the morning, came in one of her neighbors, a zealous Catholic, who, after some compliments, asked her if she would not call the Priest, adding that he was ready and he would go and bring him.

Our sister said “No!” that she did not want him.

He asked, “Will you not die in the Roman Catholic and Apostolic church?”

“No,” said she, “because I belong to the church of Jesus Christ.”

He asked if the Romish church was not the church of Christ.

“O no,” she answered, “because in everything – everything – it is contrary to the gospel.”

“But,” answered her neighbor, “you know that the Catholic is the oldest religion.”

“Yes,” she answered, “it is an old religion; it is that which the Pharisees possessed at the time of Jesus Christ was on this earth.”

“But,” he said, “you were always of the Roman Catholic religion; will you leave it now?”

She said, “I have left it this long time, ever since I have read the gospel. I cannot follow it. It is not the religion of Jesus Christ.”

It would be too long to inform you of all the conversation of this man, which was full of impiety. He tried all possible means to draw from our dear dying sister the permission to go and fetch a priest. But all his efforts were of no avail. She continually answered in the negative, with most remarkable firmness, calmness and wisdom. At length, finding he was only fatiguing her, and being myself likewise fatigued with the ungodly language and the torrent of words of this Papist, I said to him that since he had delivered his message, and now knew the sentiments of Mrs. Lore, I must beg of him not to trouble her any further. He then answered me in a very passionate manner, and a young man, a nephew of Mrs. Lore who was a witness of what passed encouraged by the example given by this church-warden, likewise flew into a passion against me and went off, calling false prophet etc.

It’s interesting to note that in one place, he mentions that her family could not minister to her needs, yet in his description, they were present. Furthermore, it appears that both her newly-converted Baptist family members, and Catholic ones were both present, given the final comment about her nephew.

Perhaps the fact that the Baptist missionaries took advantage of a captive audience and continued their attempts to recruit converts among her family members at the side of her literal deathbed had something to do with why some of her family members might not have been present.

I can certainly see that there would definitely have been two sides to this story, two perspectives, but we only have a direct record of one.

Back to Roussy’s letter:

Alexis Lore and his brother-in-law Leveque put an end to the Roman Catholic’s mission by speaking to him very faithfully of the truth which is in Christ. He, as he hated it, did not receive it, but went away quite in a state of irritation, on account of the bad success of his attempt.

We were all made glad by the good testimony our sister had just given to the truth. Her children were all strengthened, and we gave thanks to the Lord that he had given her strength sufficient; to go through such a scene. She was extremely weak and suffered excessively. Her desire to depart increased, not so much that she might be delivered from her pains, as that she might be present with the Lord, whom she unceasingly called upon.

She often requested Mrs. Feller or myself to feel her pulse, that we might tell her if the moment of her departure was at hand. She had hoped not to begin another day upon earth; and when she saw the sun appear, she said “O! How long I am in departing.”

A few hours before her death, her sufferings abated sensibly. She scarcely spoke to us, but was continually in prayer and was often heard to repeat, “Lord Jesus receive my spirit, receive me into thy glory.” The expression of her countenance became completely changed, and quiet radiant; serenity, peace, joy and something heavenly were visible on it.

We have the pleasant hope that this sickness, this death, has not been unto death, but for the glory of God. During her sickness, our sister was visited by a great number of persons to whom this solemn moment gave us an opportunity of declaring with all seriousness the whole counsel of God. Perhaps this incorruptible seed will one day bring forth fruit in the salvation of many.

Our dear sister had desired to see all her relations before her death, but only a few visited her. Others refused to come because she would not send for a priest. They all said she had dishonored her family by changing her religion and they overwhelmed her with reproaches and contempt.

They accused her of having killed herself by her frequent journeys to the Grand Ligne, and could not forgive her with the zeal with which she followed the meeting, for she never missed a single one notwithstanding the distance of two leagues that there was between her own house and that of Leveque, she sometimes traveled it on foot, when her horses were needed for something else. When surprise was expressed that at her age, she could support so long a journey, which she had not been able to do previously, she answered, “I serve so good a Master this year, he increases my strength.”

Mary’s Funeral

Canadian Baptist Women:

On Thursday, the 11th instant, the mortal remains of our sister Lore were brought to the English burial ground at St. John’s. None of her relations, and no Canadian whatever, would accompany her to her last dwelling; to such a length did the spirit of ill-will go. She was, however, honorably interred. Several persons among the most esteemed in the neighborhood and friends of the gospel assisted, and as we passed the house of an old Canadian, who I had several times visited, we had the joy to see him join the procession.

A gentleman who had gone on before us on horseback, unknown to me, had the bell tolled as is usual for a funeral.

A pretty considerable number of persons were in the churchyard, among whom were several Canadians. I prayed, read a portion of the Bible, and addressed a few remarks to those who were present. The greatest tranquility prevailed, which we had not dared to hope for – as the Catholic population informed of the event were in a rage and passion, that made us fear there would be an uproar.

Our sister Lore had often been told that since she had abandoned her religion, she should be deprived of the honor of internment and buried in the fields, which is in the opinion of the Canadians a great disgrace and ignominy – for in general they are at more trouble to procure, through the favor of the priest, a place for their body in consecrated ground, than to obtain a part in the only good place that can receive their immortal soul.

So, they hoped their threats would be fulfilled and that the young Lores would be compelled to bury the remains of their glorified mother in some corner of her farm. But those who, with impatient delight, were looking forward to this kind of triumph, were as surprised as chagrined when they saw a burial ground opened for her whom they despised only on account of her religion, for in general she was beloved and respected by all that knew her, who, with one voice, gave testimony that she had been the nurse of the sick, the comforter of the afflicted and the friend of the poor, with whom she always shared what God had given her; and that she had been a counselor and mother to all. With one thing only was she reproached – that she had left her religion.

Marie died on August 9th, 1836 and was buried on the 11th. It feels odd to see English in her death record, but she had converted to the Baptist faith, and those records were indeed in English.

On this eleventh day of August Eighteen hundred and thirty-six the body of Marie Lore, widow, of l’Acadie, a converted Catholic, who died on the preceding ninth was interred in presence of the subscribing witnesses by me, Louis Roussy, M. James Beddy, James Harrison

While this doesn’t tell us Mary’s cause of death, Roussy’s description suggests that it was probably either Dysentery or Typhoid Fever.

That poor woman.

Henrietta Feller and the Grande Ligne Mission:

Her body was borne to St. Johns and admitted to honorable sepulture in the English burial ground. None of her relatives and no Canadian in her neighborhood would accompany it.

However, several respectable people in St. Johns assisted; an old Canadian on the way joined the procession, and a gentleman rode in advance and caused the bell to be tolled, which was very unusual for a funeral.

Order prevailed during the ceremonies, though, in view of the rage among the Catholics, a disturbance was feared. The deceased had been told that if she forsook the faith, Romanism, she would be refused honorable interment and would be buried in disgrace, in the field. But the enemies were utterly confounded by the outcome. Her respectable burial, as also her triumphant death and eminently good life bore strongly against Romanism and were influential for the almost friendless cause of Protestantism.

Mrs. Lore had been a nurse to the sick, a comforter of the afflicted, a friend to the poor, a counsellor and mother to all. Above all, she maintained her faith in the Book; she read it, and it elevated her life and strengthened her to abandon popery and to secure deliverance from its power for her children, her son-in-law and her daughters-in-law, who joined her in receiving the word of God.

Hers was the first death that occurred in the little company of disciples, “scattered and peeled” and without a certain dwelling-place. It was one of those peculiar “providences” that contribute to the furtherance of the Gospel. The community were awakened, and reasonable views developed in the minds of some who without this occurrence would have remained dormant if not on the wrong side. Then there was the victory of one soul over spiritual despotism and over the grave the gaining, likewise, of honorable sepulture.

I’m still dumbstruck that NONE of her children attended her burial. I wish I knew the rest of this story, because you know there’s more. We know positively that some members of her family were already Baptists, according to this account.

Mary’s Grave

In 2009, cousin Paul Drainville wrote:

The graves I believe are lost…as I emailed a few years back an individual familiar with the Feller Museum…He told me the locations of the graves are lost and the home has fallen into disrepair and might be torn down…He sent a photo of the home, which if I figure out how to attach I will.

At this time, we thought that Marie was buried at the Grande Ligne Mission, but she wasn’t.

This map shows four locations of interest.

  • At the bottom is the mission at Grande Ligne. This is where Mary’s daughter Elizabeth, and son-in-law Jean-Baptiste Leveque lived who opened their home to the missionaries for a school. They had clearly converted before Mary died.
  • At top left, the Ste-Marguerite-de-Blairfindie Catholic church and cemetery where all of Marie’s children were baptized, and where her husband and children who died before her death are buried.
  • At right, Vieux cimetiere St. James is the English graveyard where Mary was taken by the missionaries to be buried.
  • About halfway between the English cemetery, and Ste. Marguerite, we find L’Acadie. It’s believed that this area is where Mary’s farm was located. It may well have been close to or on the Grand Ligne road. I’m hopeful to learn more from the translation of Honore’s inventory documents. I wonder if there were estate documents after Mary died.

If we are to presume that Mary’s body was prepared for burial at home and the procession moved from someplace in L’Acadie to the church in St.-Jean-sur-Richelieu, the path with the horseman and the bell-ringer would have looked something like this. Of course, they wouldn’t have needed to be concerned about one-way streets and traffic back then. They were, however, worreid about being attacked given the brewing Rebellion combined with the very angry Catholic community.

The church, within sight of the river, was constructed in 1816, so the churchyard would have had some burials, but probably not many.

The cemetery today seems almost empty, but that’s probably because so many graves are unmarked. There are a few earlier burials recorded and even fewer have stones. While the missionaries were concerned about Mary’s burial, specifically that she not be buried in a Catholic cemetery, or on her farm, no one seemed concerned about either recording or marking her grave for posterity. It seems like they were more concerned about the spectacle and statement of her funeral procession and burial, as a “win.”

The St.-John-sur-Richelieu website at one time provided information, translated from French, about the St James church and cemetery behind the church.

St James Church built in 1816 along the garrison graveyard of Fort St. John which extends behind the church.

This cemetery is of special interest for French Protestants. It is here that Mary Lafaille, better known as Mrs. Lore (the Lord family of Quebec), was buried. Mary was the daughter of François Lafaille and Marguerite. The family lived in the Boston area where they had several children who were probably raised in the Protestant religion.

The family emigrated in the l’Acadie area a little before the Mary married Honoré Lord on 10 August 1789; she was twenty-one years old at the time. Three other of her sisters also married to Catholics. The couple Lafaille-Lord had six children. It is only at the end of her life that Mrs. Lord (Lore) met the evangelist Louis Roussy who made her regain the Bible of her youth and reconverted her in 1836.

She invited the missionary to get in touch with her daughter Elizabeth, married to Jean-Baptiste Lévêque, living in Grande-Ligne who made his home available to the evangelists for prayer and preaching meetings. Sometime after, other members of the Lord family converted to Protestantism.

Mrs. Lore was a key player in the early conversions. At her death in 1841, she fell asleep in the Lord strong of her faith despite the last-minute attempts of a neighbor to bring her in “the right path.” There was no question to bury her in a Catholic cemetery and the St James Anglican community welcomed her along; a large crowd gathered for this first burial a French Protestant. Unfortunately for us, the headstones suffered the ravages of time and vandals, and it has not been possible to trace the exact place of her burial because there is no historical record of the burials.

This confirms that the is no cemetery map. Their death date for Mary is five years late and so is the count of her children, but at least we know she’s there, someplace. It does sadden me that she is buried alone, without family nearby.

Birth of the Grande Ligne Mission and Mary’s Family

Henrietta Feller and the Grande Ligne Mission:

After Mary’s death, the missionaries were still unsettled. Their experience in this respect was like that of pioneers in the missionary cause generally. The country was before them, but with opposition to the work they proposed to do for the souls of the inhabitants. Fixing a location was but to invite persecution. A permanent home was hardly to be hoped for, but there was permanent work for their hands, and with renewed resolution they looked for another center of operations. Mr. Roussy, undaunted by his dismissal from the school at L’Acadie, had preached the Gospel throughout the adjacent regions. An indication of providential favor was found in the opening of a private house for meeting, as stated: the home of Mr. Leveque, son-in-law of Madame Lore, whose abandonment of Romanism has been noted.

This house was situated on what came to be known as The Grande Ligne. A grande ligne is simply a division line between districts, or concessions of government land, usually a straight line, extending several miles. It becomes a road, along which homes are established; and the one mentioned became so prominent as a mission center that the place assumed the name given. Thither the thoughts of the missionaries turned.

It was felt by them that it would be necessary to stand away from the cities and begin the mission among a more quiet population. And such an opportunity was presented and embraced; the friendships of some of the Canadians there giving assurance that peace might prevail and the missionaries not be molested.

Scarcely four months had been spent in St. Johns, and less than one year in Canada, and in this brief time they had been persecuted and compelled to flee from two cities and seek a home in the open country. The assailants, not satisfied with abusing human beings, vented their wickedness upon Mr. Roussy’s horse, and tried to kill him; but the blows which at first seemed fatal proved to be only deep flesh wounds that after some weeks, it was hoped, would be healed.

Yielding to the impression that Grande Ligne was the place God had purposed for her, Madame Feller removed thither in September 1836. Some of the inhabitants had desired her to settle among them, feeling the need of instruction; parents as well as children. But there was no school-house, nor a lot on which one might be built at that time. Meetings had been held in Mr. Leveque’s house, a poor cabin. Two small rooms in the garret, though unfinished, were available for her use; and when ready she entered them, with joy and thanksgiving, feeling that her way and her task were alike ordered of the Lord, and that expected trials would be for her good and His glory.

The beginning was small. The rooms were about twelve feet square, each. One of them was her chamber, the other answered the purposes of parlor, kitchen and schoolroom. In such narrow circumstances was commenced the conquest of the land to a pure Christianity – the attic of a log house for a fort and an unformed company of children of which to make an army, and with the ignorant and hostile Canaanite in the land.

With a steady purpose and a firm resolve she entered upon a life campaign. “From nine in the morning till noon, and from two till five in the afternoon she instructed children, upwards of twenty being generally present. At six in the evening there was a meeting for adults, which partook of the character of a school and a Bible class. At that meeting, after the elementary part of the business had been dispatched, she read and explained portions of the Scripture and answered innumerable questions respecting the truths of the Gospel. So deeply interested were those who attended that the exercises were not infrequently prolonged until midnight.”

An increase of knowledge so greatly desirable was not the only consideration with either teacher or pupil. Enlightenment was not the end, but the means; and great was the gratification attending the soul’s submission to Jesus Christ, the highest aim in all efforts. “The work prospers at Grande Ligne,” wrote Madame Feller; “we have there about twenty Protestants, who have entirely abandoned Popery, and we are happy to inform you that six of them give satisfactory proof that they are Christians.”

There seems to have been an unspoken longing in the minds of some for such a blessing as the Gospel brings. The Canadians were not an entire exception in the human family, to which “The Desire of all Nations ” was to be a welcome guest. One of the very first converts said to Madame Feller: “Before I saw you, I had asked God to send some one to instruct us and our children. I did not mention it to anybody, because I did not see how it could be done. But I continued to pray, and now you have come.”

Mr. Leveque, whose house was being used, could not read, though forty-two years of age. He also cherished a longing for Scripture truth, saying, “I take the Bible I hold it in my hand. I look at it, I open it would that I could read it! I cannot tell you my distress; I am heartbroken. I would ask the Lord to work a miracle for me, so that I might be able to read; but He will do it in giving me understanding. Oh, if I could once read it to those who are ignorant! It is not for myself only; I would go and read the word of God to those who know it not.”

Another man, about sixty years of age, of dreadful temper and an enemy of the Leveques and of the Gospel, was found to be in a subdued state of mind, and willing to permit his large number of children to learn to read. Considering himself too old to learn, he would frequently attend the school and listen to the readings of the Bible. Midnight often surprised the school while engaged in reading, explanation, and prayer. The wife of this man reported that he was sometimes so excited after the evening conferences that he could not sleep, but talked all night about the things he had heard.

Such were the indications of the divine pleasure. On the other hand there were displays of the adversary’s displeasure. Children were withdrawn from the school; priests visited homes that had received little or no attention previously, threatened and tried to turn away those favorably disposed to the Mission. And yet there was a change to a favorable attitude toward the Bible on the part of one of the opposing priests, showing the divine hand, and he gave permission to the family last named to have the children educated.

That husband and father, regardless of ridicule, took the Bible under his arm, and going from house to house, sought out persons to read to him its precious contents. He in turn told them what he had learned from the holy book. And joy, such as angels experience, filled the souls of the workers on the conversion of Benoni Lore, who gradually had passed through a stage of distressful conviction and then fully and joyfully entered the new life. He then became one of the most eager learners in the school.

Mr. Roussy had quarters in a house belonging to the Lore family, in L’Acadie, and itinerated in the surrounding district. Grande Ligne was the most important of the seven or eight preaching stations he occupied, and the mutual counsel and sympathy enjoyed were doubtless much needed.

It’s unclear when these conversions occurred but given that only Elizabeth Lore and Jean-Baptiste Leveque along with Alexis Lore were the only family members reported as Baptist at Mary’s death, I’d presume the rest of these were later.

After Mary’s Death

After Mary Lore’s death, the political situation worsened, as did the Catholic/Baptist schism, if that can be imagined.  

Canadian Baptist Women:

Roussy reports that the Lore family and missionaries:

Now have neither relations nor friends and are forsaken by all those who formerly loved them. They bear it joyfully, esteeming themselves happy to be hated of all for the name of Christ.

It’s noted that the missionaries felt that, through Mary, God had given them an answer to their own prayers. Roussy writes of her, “This pious woman was a great help to me, not only her heart but also her house was open.” He refers to her as “our esteemed Sister Lore.” He refers to her elsewhere as “the first good seed of the Grande Ligne Mission.”

They viewed her as “the victory of one soul over spiritual despotism and over the grave” although Roussy also said, “We have been deeply affected by the death of this our dear sister whom we had so much reason to love.”

The missionaries subsequently used Mary’s story both to evangelize and to solicit and obtain funding. She was their shining example of how they had touched Catholic lives and been successful in their conversion efforts.

The heart-wrenching division this caused within the Lore family was still felt and reflected generations later.

Roussy discusses the problem of finding a location to teach a school, but states that Leveque has made them two little rooms in the garret of the house he lives in.

Upon quitting St. John’s I intend going to live in the house of our deceases sister where two of her sons will continue to dwell.

Obviously that’s Mary Lore, but which of her two sons are residing there? Clearly Alexis is one, but who is the other son? Did Rene or Benoni inherit the family home? The only other possibility is Mary’s son, Honore.

The Beginnings of the Grande Ligne Mission

Henrietta Feller and the Grande Ligne Mission:

1837

A small school-house was built, the first structure to indicate progress; the friends at Montreal also showing a lively, practical interest in its erection.

The Leveque family, which had kindly granted the garret of the cabin for Madame Feller’s use, now yielded to her the entire dwelling, and temporarily domiciled in the new school-house.

Accommodations thus were greatly enlarged. Besides the two upper rooms, each twelve feet square, she could command also the entire lower part, twelve by twenty-four, for school, meetings, and household purposes. Behold the mansion!

It was reported that by the time the 1837 rebellion occurred, the mission had amassed 16 converts.

In February 1837, the Bishop of Montreal received an even more alarming report from the Parish Priest – 11 households had been converted for a total of 53 people. Apparently, the seed had sprouted.

In an 1893 Sketch of the Grande Ligne Mission by it’s president, he tells us that:

Henrietta Feller found her way to a little country place called Grande Ligne, where in a log house she commenced her word. In an upper room, partitioned with rough boards, she lived and toiled. She soon succeeded in gathering around her a few children to whom she taught reading and writing, at the same time carefully instructing them in the blessed truths of the gospel.

After school hours, she spent her time visiting the houses of these children and any house to which she could find access in Grande Ligne to tell the story of the cross and give general instructions to the poor Canadian women, who were, like their husbands in a deplorable state of ignorance and superstition. Hardly one person in 10 could read or write. No wonder this province is called Darkest Canada.

In 1837, after two months exile, owing to the Canadian Rebellion, the first French Protestant Church ever founded in Canada was organized at Grande Ligne with 7 members to whom 9 others were added a few months later.

I sure wish we had the names of those seven people. I’d wager that at least some of them were her family members, if not all.

Ironically, not one word in this 1893 book is about Mary or any member of the Lore or Leveque families, without whom, the mission would not have existed. The person who owned that founding “log house” was indeed none other than Mary Lore’s daughter Elizabeth and son-in-law, Jean-Baptiste Leveque.

The Rebellion

In 1837, the political situation became ever more volatile, fueled by politics and the divisive rhetoric pitting Catholics and Protestants against one another, both in the government and the churches.

The first battle of the Patriot Rebellion took place at St. Eustace, near Montreal on December 14, 1837.

The churches were involved with the French patriots taking refuge in the Catholic churches. St. Eustace and Saint-Benoit were burned that December, along with the houses of the opposing rebellion’s leaders in four additional villages. English “rebels” attempted to make it to the Canada/US border, but many were taken prisoner.

The countryside was terrified, angry, and in an uproar.

Eustace was only about 50 miles away from L’Acadie.

The closest escape route to the border would take the rebels directly down the Richelieu River, terrifying the population and inflaming the anti-Baptist sentiment.

All clergy, be they Protestant or Catholic, probably used this opportunity to proselytize and encourage their congregations to assure their piety and salvation…just in case.

Catholic families would have been very angry at the English, meaning the missionaries, for bringing this battle and from their perspective, needless upheaval upon them.

Mary had been the Catholic icon for the Baptists, and now the Baptists were iconic representatives of the English.

Given the history within the L’Acadie community surrounding Mary’s conversion and death, all things considered, it’s no surprise that the reaction was so volatile and heated.

Henrietta Feller and the Grande Ligne Mission:

A letter from Henriette Fuller (above):

The missionaries left Grande Ligne for NY it became so dangerous in November 1837.

The movements of the rebels always took place in the night. They met in companies of one hundred, two hundred, and sometimes more. They were all masked and furnished with instruments of every kind imaginable to get up a charivari. They went from house to house, mingling with their infernal music shouts and imprecations still more infernal. Those who did not come out immediately and join them were pelted with stones and threatened with fire. Some houses were entirely destroyed with their contents. Almost all of the inhabitants of Grande Ligne being patriots (as the rebels called themselves), they became so violent that there were no bounds to their disorderliness. Some friends came to warn us that we were in danger, and that we ought to remove as quickly as possible, and absent ourselves for some time.

On Monday morning brother Roussy set off for Champlain, to ascertain whether accommodations could be obtained there, should God show us that it was our duty to leave. He had not been gone an hour when I learned that the patriots were determined to kill him; they spoke of it quite openly and expressed themselves in the most violent manner. I passed a sad day. It appeared very evident that it was our duty to go away; but to give up my Canadians was to give up my life. I was warned that the patriots were preparing to come to my house that night, and that their intentions were of the worst kind. How I blessed God that brother Roussy was absent! I spent the evening in reading and prayer, with some of my dear Canadians, encouraging myself in God and expecting that He would guide me, for I knew not what I ought to do. Oh, how true it is that we must look to Jesus if we would not lose courage! I had full experience of it that night, for when the mob came to the house, I felt no fear. Brave brother Leveque went out of his house to ask them what they wanted. They told him, and in an imperious manner, that he must immediately discontinue the scandal of the new religion which he had permitted in his house, adding that they would compel us to quit the country.

Mr. Leveque asked them who gave them the power to act in that way. They replied that they assumed the power, and that they would show us that they were masters. I was obliged to go and speak to them at the door and was able to do it calmly. They commanded brother Roussy and me to go away, and said that if we did not go quickly, they would return and force us; that we had come to trouble the country with a new religion, and that they would not suffer any persons to live in that place who did not profess their own excellent religion and were not good patriots like themselves.

They uttered many blasphemies and threats and left me to carry on their outrages at the houses of the members of our little church. They introduced themselves by the charivari and throwing stones at the windows. They ordered all who had renounced popery to abandon their new religion, and return to the mass, and told them that if they would not do it they must quit the country, or expect to be burned out. See how clearly the path was marked for us; for all determined rather to give up everything than to go back. Then we prepared for our departure, trusting that the merciful God would find a refuge for His poor, persecuted church.

As early as 1838 she [Fuller] seems to have gained a correct view of their general condition and wrote: “The Canadians are devoted to unchanged routine. They have no idea of doing anything differently from their grandfathers. They cultivate and crop only one half of their farms every year, leaving the other half to their cattle; and the consequence is that, though a man may possess a hundred arpents (an arpent being three-fourths of an English acre), he is very probably without bread for one half of the year. We have persuaded our people this year to plough and sow all their land, the meadows only excepted, which produce abundant crops of hay. This is an innovation and is regarded as a remarkable event.”

It’s worth noting here that “fire” is one of the oral stories passed down in the Antoine Lore family who carried the anti-Catholic stories, but where the fire occurred, or under what circumstances, was not specified.

Summary

Returning to Henrietta Feller’s letter:

Glancing at authentic documents for a brief survey of this grand enterprise, it is learned that for the first year (1835-6) the main result of their flight from one hostile locality to another was the finding, finally, a place to rest the foot. A convert had been gained, raised up for their relief in pointing them to an “upper room ” (the log hut), and then taken to her mansion in the skies before the year closed. It was her reward here that she, Mrs. Lore, had a proper Christian burial, and by the loving hands of the missionaries.

The second year (1836-7) was signaled by two great events. One, the organization of a church of seven members, increased to sixteen before the year closed, which, by the grace of God, continues to this day; the second, the persecution and exile already described. Thus, through joy and sorrow in immediate succession, were they tempered for their life further on missionaries and converts together.

From Canadian Baptist Women:

After Mary’s death in 1836, the Grande Ligne Mission continued to share important ties to both the Champlain area and Mary’s family. The Grande Ligne Mission and Mary’s family became targets for the 1837 lootings, fires and charivaris during the Rebellion. The missionaries and mission families, including Mary’s, abandoned their homes and fled for refuge to the safety of Champlain. Additionally, it was reported that the Grande Ligne Mission received yearly financial support from the associations in Champlain that had been founded by Pliny Moore.

Grande Ligne Mission

Where is the Grande Ligne Mission today?

Fortunately, the little cabin owned by Elizabeth Lore and Jean-Baptiste Levique was not torn down and has been restored as a historic site.

Mary was assuredly here many times, both to visit her daughter, then to visit the mission. Her spirit probably still visits faithfully. Eventually, this humble cabin site was the foundation of Feller College, but that was still decades in the future.

Cousin Ed tells us that the conversion experiences, difficulties with the Catholic population at the time, etc., had been a vague bit of family lore within the Lore family for many years. “It intrigued me enough to spend a significant amount of time and effort researching. It was back in 1992 that I finally made the information break-through and was able to visit Jean-Baptiste Leveque’s cabin in Canada where Madame Feller started her work, now the Henriette Feller Museum.”

Fortunately, today the little cabin has been preserved and restored, complete with signage. I hope to one day tour this cabin, sit on those benches, and ponder the lives of Mary and her family.

In the 1851 census, Mary’s daughter, Elizabeth Lord, was living in a large household, probably the Grande Ligne mission, with Madam Feller, age 52, and her religion is listed as Baptist, but then Baptist is marked through as with many of Elizabeth’s siblings.

Perhaps wishful thinking on the part of the census taker, or maybe for their safety?

Part of the Roussy memorial today, the first church was the mission, but this church was built in 1880. The original steps probably remain. Although Mary clearly would not have visited this church, Alexis, Benoni, and Honore did not die until in the 1880s. I hope they remembered the sacrifices of their mother here.

This postcard shows the church sometime between 1898 and 1917.

Many of Mary’s grandchildren and descendants would have worshipped here, and some may still.

The cemetery, located to the rear of the properties is part of the “complex” that at one time included the college, boarding school, church, original mission, presbytery, and other buildings.

Five of Mary’s children, plus probably Marie Josephte, are buried here:

  • Elizabeth
  • Alexis
  • Benoni
  • Honore
  • Rene

Ironic that there was concern about Mary being buried in some field in the corner of her farm. Although not her farm, I’d bet she’s love to be buried here where her children toiled and tilled the soil. Indeed, in the corner of her daughter and son-in-law’s farm field, with them and her family. Many Lore/Lord family members were still being buried here into the 1990s.

Mary’s DNA waters the soil of Grande Ligne through her children and descendants.

You can read more about the Mission, here and here.

What About Mary, the Person?

I come away from all of this saddened. I feel like Mary, at a time when she was aging and vulnerable, became somewhat of a pawn, revered more for what she represented to both the Catholics and Baptists than for Mary herself. I feel like she was viewed as a prize, and whatever happened to her and her family relationships was either ignored as irrelevant or collateral damage. I hope she didn’t blame herself for what happened to her family as a result of “her sins.” Of course, according to both religious philosophies – there would have been no “damage” if people had simply corrected their way of thinking.

Only a few words are spent on the kind of person Mary was. Everything else was focused on using Mary to recruit others.

“She had been the nurse of the sick, the comforter of the afflicted and the friend of the poor, which whom she always shared what God had given her; and that she had been a counselor and mother to all.”

That’s it. Everything else is about Mary’s religious agonies or, in the end, ecstasies as death approached. They never even bothered to acknowledge her lifelong role as mother and grandmother by naming her children. Furthermore, the missionaries didn’t even record the number of her children accurately. I feel like they were primarily interested in what Mary could do for them, not what happened to Mary or her family. Even during her death watch – they used her as an opportunity to evangelize.

I’m trying very hard to not view the records and acts of yesteryear from a contemporary perspective, but I’m struggling. My heart aches for Mary being without her family in the last days and hours of her life.

My heart aches for her family members, being deprived of being with their mother in her last hours, and at her funeral.

From the vantage of time and distance, I find it very difficult to be happy about the situation, with Mary seemingly exploited by both sides, to the point where her family was driven away. I’m assuming the reports were correct that none of her children or family members walked with her funeral procession and attended her burial.

I could understand, perhaps, why her Catholic family did not attend, but not even her Baptist family members? Where were Elizabeth and Jean-Baptiste Leveque, and family? What about Alexis? And maybe even some of her family members who had not converted yet but had softened somewhat? There’s mention of another daughter-in-law being converted. She had adult grandchildren who surely loved her. Where were they?

And poor confused Marie Josephte. OMG my heart aches for her.

Where were all the people Mary had loved unconditionally for her and their entire lives?

There seems to be an untold story here. More than meets the eye.

Everyone had somehow been alienated by this battle, it appears, except for the Baptist missionaries themselves. Were they sentries instead of guardians? I guess they “won” “their” battle and Mary’s body and funeral procession through the community were their trophy.

Perhaps Mary’s family members were all just disgusted to death with the behavior of all external parties and wanted nothing more to do with any of it. It seems they had been robbed of their mother and grandmother – first by a lifelong battle with Mary’s own grief and agony surrounding religion, then a battle between religions with Mary as the symbolic trophy, and then by death itself. Who wouldn’t be utterly exhausted?

They had also experienced the same grief experiences that Mary had – their siblings died, their grandparents died and their father died just before the missionaries arrived on the scene.

Within various lines of the family, vague references to terrible times remained well into the 1900s.

Mary was my mother’s grandfather’s grandmother. My great-aunt Eloise lived into the 1990s and told about riding in the buggy with her father, Curtis Lore, in the early 1900s when she was a child. Mary was his grandmother, and he never, not once breathed a word about any of this. He assuredly knew.

Curtis never met Mary, of course, as he was born 20 years after her death. Curtis had, however, disassociated himself from strong ties to any religion. That’s not to infer that he was an evil person. His wife was raised Lutheran, then was Presbyterian as an adult, and he perfunctorily attended services with her as required. His daughters attended church and Sunday School regularly. He didn’t interfere, but he certainly wasn’t more than lukewarm towards organized religion. Religious bickerings and outright war within the family had a horrible impact on his grandmother and his father, with aunts and uncles remaining estranged until their deaths.

Estrangement is living grief. Every. Single. Day. Trust me on this one.

Curtis’s father, Anthony Lore, born Antoine in 1805 to Marie/Mary and Honore Lore was in Vermont by about 1830. In 1831, he married outside the Catholic faith, so he was probably already an outcast. Maybe his mother’s obsession with religion was part of why he left, although she had not been “reconverted” yet at that time.

Anthony’s side of the family, meaning his grandchildren, carried mostly vague stories and references about how horrible Catholics were, and how dangerous. “They” were certainly not to be trusted.

I found the word “dangerous” in this context remarkable when I first heard it.

I first encountered those rumblings before I knew who Anthony’s parents were. I discounted them, or figured they were based on some sort of misinformation.  After I discovered that Anthony’s ancestors were Acadians, I found this “Catholics are evil” story rather incredulous, especially given that Acadians fought so hard and so long, undergoing such deprivation to remain Catholic. They literally sacrificed everything. Their religion was extremely important to them, and a Catholic Acadian family would never have these kinds of stories, hinted at or otherwise.

From the Acadian perspective, the English and protestants were very clearly evil for what they had done. There was truly no doubt about that.

Surely, these family stories were confused or came from a different line. Maybe from one of the non-Catholic lines – right???

Nope. As it turns out, they were based on actual facts, even though the specifics had been obscured or forgotten. This situation became even worse after Mary’s death. The Baptist Lore family who lived in Mary’s home was reportedly burned out in 1837, probably during the Rebellion when the French and English were firmly pitted against each other and the area was rocked by revolutionary upheaval.

I wonder if Antoine, then Anthony, saw his mother after she converted and before she died? He’s never mentioned anyplace in these records, but we know he was present in 1834 when Honore’s estate was divided.

These family members remained in touch, somehow, at least during the first generation and before Mary’s conversion, or Anthony would not have known to be present when his father’s estate was divided. We know Anthony was there, because he signed his name.

The situation surrounding Mary’s death and subsequent political/religious terrors endured by the family were treated pretty much as a closely guarded family secret – something that was occasionally whispered about or inferred, but the actual story was never told. There was head-shaking, tongue-clucking and long sad grimacing glances at the floor that clearly conveyed the sentiment, and that there was some horrible secret that could not be discussed – never to be revealed. And yes, people took those secrets to their graves.

I’ve tried to dig them up.

It’s possible that the family, in some way, still feared retaliation, or the division cleaved by the Catholic/Baptist feud over Mary’s body and soul was too deep and painful to navigate.

Estrangement is the willful severance of your relationship with your family. The person on the receiving end couldn’t interpret the intended message more clearly. “You’re dead to me. You don’t exist. I’ve killed you in my heart.” And this was caused by religion.

Where is God’s love in all of this?

If the Baptist letters are to be believed, Mary died in a euphoric state, but I still feel incredibly sorry for what she had to endure, and for the horribly painfully divided family she left behind. Those scars have been passed from generation to generation, while her actual legacy as a wonderful, giving, human being, regardless of her religion, has been entirely erased and forgotten.

Not anymore, Mary.

Not anymore.

I can’t do much, but I can honor Mary’s life with a virtual headstone, even if it is 187 years late, and create a memorial, here.

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[1] http://www.acadian-home.org/acadians-massachusetts.html

[2] http://www.acadian-home.org/acadians-massachusetts-2.html

[3] Jacob’s Well: A Case for Rethinking Family History by Joseph Amato

Acadian 1695 Loyalty Oath Signatures – 52 Ancestors #395

I discovered my Acadian family line nearly 20 years ago with the revelation of one single word – Blairfindie. Sometimes all you really need is one word. The right word, followed by a LOT of digging.

I’ve chased so many wild hares as a genealogist that I’m now surprised when one actually does pan out.

Update: Please note that while the Massachusetts Archives date says 1695, this oath was signed in 1690 and taken to Boston with the local priest, who was held hostage by the English. I would have titled this article as such had I realized that when it was published.

The Loyalty Petition

In 2008, somehow, I heard a rumor that there was a 1695 loyalty petition of the Acadians that was archived in Massachusetts. Massachusetts? How would it have gotten there? Retained by someone after they were deported, perhaps?

I doubted the petition actually existed, but I wrote to find out anyway.

Surprise!

Does the fact that this document was carefully guarded and included with someone’s meager possessions when they had literally no room on the 1755 deportation ships represent hope that the loyalty petition might yet save them? Would it say to their deporters, “See, we were always loyal? Our ancestors swore allegiance 65 years ago. Let us go home.”

I wish I knew. It was clearly viewed as important. Based on who signed, it probably came from Port Royal, having been renamed Annapolis Royal after being British captured by the British in 1710.

Signatures

One of my goals is always to find the signatures of my ancestors. The Acadians are particularly difficult because many of the church and other records no longer exist, so any signature is quite rare indeed.

Even if they don’t sign with an actual signature, instead making their mark, you know that “mark” is their signature and they physically made it, then and there. It may be the only tangible thing left of them, except perhaps for fragments of their DNA carried by their descendants.

Consequently, you know whether they did or did not know how to read and write.

You can speculate about how they learned to read and write, perhaps through their church, or why they didn’t.

You know who they stood with when signing this pledge that was given with the fervent hope of avoiding issues and remaining neutral in conflicts between the British Empire and France. Canada and the maritime territories were prize possessions in the wars, but to the Acadians, it was simply home. They didn’t want trouble, simply to co-exist peacefully.

The Acadians wanted nothing more than to be left alone with their families, diked fields, livestock, and Catholic churches.

Rest assured that the topic of signing this pledge was hotly debated, probably ad nauseum. No one knew what the future held nor the best course of action. I’m sure there were as many differing opinions as there were people.

The English were opportunists, neighbors to the south with whom the Acadians traded, legally or otherwise, and Protestant. Yes, that relationship was complex.

The Catholics wanted absolutely nothing LESS than to be forced to become Protestant, as had occurred in England beginning with the reign of Henry VIII and becoming worse during Queen Elizabeth’s reign in the second half of the1500s. They were afraid if they pledged loyalty to England that they would be forced to adopt the Protestant religion and be conscripted into the English war machine to fight their French brethren in Canada.

The European wars were reflected in battles, skirmishes, and raids in Acadia, colonies on the other side of the Atlantic. The Acadian answer was to attempt to remain neutral by not fighting FOR anyone.

The Acadians were continuously embroiled in some sort of conflict, most of it not of their own making and almost all of it out of their control or even sphere of influence.

In 1690, the English once again plundered Acadia, killing people and livestock and burning farms.

The Acadians agreed to sign a loyalty oath in order to diffuse the situation and not be viewed as “the enemy.” Not everyone signed, especially not men and families in the more remote areas and outposts. Omission doesn’t necessarily mean noncompliance or opposition. It may simply imply distance. Furthermore, not every signature is legible.

I wrote to the Massachusetts State Archives requesting a copy of this document in 2008. I shared it with other researchers at the time, but now I’m sharing it with all Acadian researchers.

The outside of the petition bears the date of August 1695.

The signatures are contained on one page.

Wee do swear and sincerely promise that wee will be faithfull and bear true allegiance to his Majesty King William King of England, Scotland, France and Ireland.

So helpe us God.

Written in both English and French, courtesy of Christophe.

Nous jurons et sinserment (= sincèrement) promettons
que nous serons fidelle (=fidèle) et porterons vraye (=vraie)
alégeance (=allégeance) à sa maiesté (=majesté) le Roy Guillaume
Roy Dangleterre Décosse (d’Angleterre, d’Ecosse) France et
Irlande.
Ainsy Dieu nous aide.

Note, “marque de” translates to “mark of,” meaning they could not sign their name and instead made their mark.

I had difficulty reading some of these names, so if you can decipher something I did not, or transcribed incorrectly, or know your ancestor to be on this list, please comment on the blog by column and number, and I’ll update the entry.

Updates:

  • Additional information, not contained on the original list, which is provided here, is contained in parenthesis following the person’s name. Please see the comments for more details.
  • Courtesy of Karen Theroit Reader, I’m adding the birth and death dates in parenthesis. These dates are clearly NOT in the original document. You can view Karen’s extensive and documented Acadian tree here. Please also see her comments.
  • Also, please view the comments by Mark Deutsch for essential context, including that these oaths were not voluntary and were taken in 1690, not 1695. There is additional discussion about this topic and circumstances that are critical to Acadian history.
  • Thank you to Christophe from France for assistance with both language and script translation and interpretation.
  • Lucie LeBlanc Consentino added some comments on the DNAexplain Facebook page, so I’ll incorporate some of those here as well. Her list appears to have come from here and does add some valuable information, such as dit names, but contains omissions has some challenges as well. Since it’s in alpha order, we sometimes can’t correlate to the signatures.
  • It’s also interesting to note that while the names morphed over time and have been standardized to some extent today, the people who signed their own names clearly spelled it “correctly” for themselves at that time. When there is a question about what they actually signed, I’ve included possibilities suggested by experts.
  • Thank you to everyone who has contributed. There is such power in collaboration. Please see the comments for additional valuable genealogy information.
  • Always remember to research carefully and check original documents when possible. We are all human and make mistakes:)

Column 1

  1. Allexandre Richard (1668-1709)
  2. John Bostorash? (x) La Marque (now Bastarache) (1658-1733, Karen Theroit reports that Stephen A. White (SAW from here forward) has standardized the name to Bastarache)

Column 2

  1. Louis Petit, missionnaire faisant les fonctions curiales au Port Royal (the missionary acting as parish priest at Port Royal – see comments)
  2. Etmanuel Le Bourgnes (possibly Borgnes) (Emmanuel Le Borgue 1676-before 1717, Karen thinks the other “things” are flourishes to his signature) (Lucie – Le Borgne de Bélisle – the recently deceased seigneur’s son)
  3. Charles Mellanson (Milanson?)
  4. Mathieu Martin (1636-bef 1725)
  5. Margue de (mark) Claude Terriot (1637-1725)
  6. Marque de (mark) Daniel Le Blanc
  7. Marque de (mark) Etienne Pellerin
  8. Pierre Lanoue
  9. Pierre Commeaux +(mark) (Per Karen, SAW uses Comeau) (Pierre le Jeune Comeau per Lucie ) le jeune translates to “the young”
  10. Jean Labat (Lucie – dit Le Marquis) – this one is very difficult as it’s under the fold line
  11. Marque de (+) Germain Savoye (Savoye 1654-after 1729) (Lucie – Savoie)
  12. Marque de (+) Jacob Girouer (possibly meant to be Girouard) (1621-1693 – SAW uses Girouard) (from Christophe – prononcer Girouère=Giroir=Girouard)
  13. Bonaventure (+) Terriot (1641-1731)
  14. Marque de (mark) Pierre le Celier (1647-1710 – SAW uses Cellier)
  15. Marque de (+) Pierre Godet
  16. Marque de (P) Guillaume Blanchard
  17. Marque de (t) Jean Belliveau (1652-1734) (from Christophe – à cette époque les U et les V s’écrivaient de la même manière)
  18. Illegible between above and below names but does not look to be a name. Karen indicates that she does not feel this is a name given the tight spacing above and below. I’m leaving this number because I feel it’s relevant to future researchers who may question this.
  19. Marque de Pierre Tibaudeau (1631-1704 – SAW uses Thibodeau)
  20. Martin (+) Blanchard (1647-after1718)
  21. Marque de (+) Charles Robichaux (Lucie – dit Cadet”
  22. Marque de (+) Bernard Bourg (1648-?)
  23. Jean (+) Corporon
  24. Alexandre (+) Girouer (1761-1744) (Christophe Griouer = Girouard)
  25. Marque de (mark) du Puelt (du Puit – 1637-after 1700 – SAW uses DuPuis) (du Puest per Christophe)
  26. Pierre Guillebaud (Guillebau – 1639-1703 – SAW uses Guilbeau)
  27. Marque de (+) Pierre Sibilau (1675-before 1703)
  28. Claude Gaidry (1648-after 1723 – SAW uses Guedry) (Christophe – possibly Guidry)
  29. Giraud (+) Guerin (Jerome Guerin – about 1665-after 1751)
  30. Jullién Lor

Column 3

  1. Marque de (mark) Pierre Commeaux
  2. Marque de (mark) Emanuel Hebert
  3. Marque de (mark) Jean Commeaux
  4. Marque de (o) Etienne Commeaux
  5. Marque de (+) Martin Bourg
  6. Marque de (LA) de Louis Alin (1654-1737 SAW uses Allain)
  7. Abraham Bourg
  8. Marque de (+) Jean Babinot (Babineau per Lucie, here at Babinot)
  9. Marque (+) de Jacques Leger (1663-1751) (Lucie – dit La Rosette)
  10. Marque de (mark) Francois Broussard (1653-1716) (Christophe – Preullard?)
  11. (partly illegible) Marque de (+) Pierre Martin
  12. Alexandre Bourg (1671-1760) (Lucie – dit Bellehumeur, nephew of Abraham Bourg)
  13. Marque (P) de Jacques Triel (1646-before 1700) (Lucie – dit Laperrière)
  14. Pierre (+) Landry
  15. Claude (C mark) Landry
  16. Jacques (+) Michel
  17. Martin (O) Richard
  18. Francois (J or F) Robin (1643-1706 – Karen thinks his mark is an F instead of a J, Christoph interprets as J)
  19. Claude (+) Dugats
  20. Pierre (+) Doucet sa marque
  21. René de Forest (1670-1751 – SAW uses “(de) FOREST”)
  22. Claude Petitpas
  23. Denis Petitot (dit Saint-Seine, born about 1662)
  24. Prudent Robichaux (1669-1756)
  25. Lourans Grangé (mark) sa marque (1643-about 1701)
  26. Laurens Doucet
  27. Bernard Godet
  28. John Faudel (mark) (his) marque (Fardel/Fredelle, 1643-after 1700) (Christophe – possibly Paucett?) (Lucie – an Englishman whose wife was a Gaudet)

In total, 61 men who were heads of households representing families signed the loyalty oath.

Here’s a second, lighter copy that may help with some signatures. Please feel free to download both.

My Ancestors

Four of my ancestors signed this oath, two with their mark and two signed.

Guillaume Blanchard and Pierre Doucet signed with their marks

René de Forest signed his name, although I couldn’t decipher his signature. (Thanks Karen.) I love this man’s R. I should practice and adopt it!

Jullién Lor signed his name, but it’s more than just a name…

Jullién Lor

Jullién Lor signed his name at the bottom of the second column, giving us a huge clue as to his heritage. In fact, I’d say he secretly gave us the answer.

Can you spot the clue?

First, although there was no standardized spelling at the time, we know he spelled his surname Lor, not Lord as was later recorded, nor Lore, Laur, or any other derivative. Jullien was the original immigrant who was born in the old country. But where was that?

There has always been some question about Jullién’s heritage, especially with a surname like Lord. Lord is not a French word. It’s English.

English soldiers were stationed at Fort Royal at various times, and the English did interact with the Acadians often and in many ways, at least when they weren’t warring.

So, was Jullién Lor English or French? We can pretty much rule out any other nationalities at this point, based on the history of the region at the time he appeared on the scene. He was not in the 1671 or 1678 census, at least not under his own name, but we know he was in the region before 1675 or 1676 when his first child was born.

Do you see that little accent over the e? It looks like this – é. It’s not a stray mark. It’s called l’accent aigu and is unquestionably French. It changes the pronunciation of the e to something sounding like “eh.”

In essence, Jullién just winked and whispered across 328 years that he’s French. Je suis français, mon petit-fils.

Thank you, Jullién, my wonderful six-times great-grandfather! I’m all ears if there’s anything else you’d like to say.

It’s a good thing we have this document, because it’s absolutely the ONLY record of Jullién’s signature that I’ve been able to find. And while we do have a few other hints, nothing is as conclusive as a message from Jullién himself!

I hope you find your ancestors too.

_____________________________________________________________

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Finding the Old Home Place with Zillow – 52 Ancestors #394

Would you like to visit the home where your parents or grandparents lived? Maybe great-grandparents? Does their home still stand? Did someone within the family inherit it? How about visiting the homes of aunts and uncles that you visited as a child?

What about the home you grew up in?

How would you feel walking through that house again?

I had never really thought about this before, but I got to find out this week.

One of my former classmates tagged me on social media.

I clicked, and there it was.

The house where I was raised.

I drew a sharp breath.

Was I ready for this?

Could I look?

How could I NOT look?

It was posted in a Facebook group called “Cheap Old Houses,” which made me kind of nervous. I was hoping it wasn’t a disaster inside.

Opportunity awaits to restore this charming 3BR/2BA home back to its original charm and character! Located in the Old Silk Stocking district, this all brick, 2 story features original hardwood flooring, crown molding, and two wood-burning fireplaces. With over 1500 sq ft of living space, home also includes an unfinished basement and upper 3rd level to be used as an office, playroom or whatever you choose!

“Opportunity awaits to restore…” I wonder what that means, exactly.

Take a deep breath. Should I or shouldn’t I?

Well, of course I looked. I couldn’t help myself.

I wondered when this house was last sold.

In August of 2001, it sold for $53,600. According to Zillow, it had dropped in value to $38,400 in October of 2016, and reached a high of $125,200 in June of 2021. The estimated payment is $380 per month including insurance. I’ve had larger car payments.

Each of the two floors has 778 square feet, which seems quite small today, but seemed just normal then.

Before and I do a walkthrough, I’ll set the stage a bit.

Let’s just say I went down a rabbit hole. A really, really deep rabbit hole. And wow – the surprises awaiting.

Have you ever done the genealogy of a house?

There’s a first time for everything.

History

This house was built in 1915 and described as a gable front/Colonial Revival, according to the Howard County History site.

“Brand-Way House” c. 1915 Alberta Brand, who was a recent widow, purchased a small strip of land on the west side of the Haskett-Jay house, where she built this small brick house for herself. It is said the sale of this lot caused quite a rift between the Jays and the family of Dr. Lamar Knepple, who lived at 524 West Sycamore Street. Similar to other Colonial Revival style homes in the Old Silk Stocking neighborhood, this home features a massive brick chimney flanked with two quarter-circle openings, six-over-six windows, and flat brick lintels. The front gabled, projected entrance with segmental arch is unique in this neighborhood. Notice the rounded hood over the side entrance. (Colonial Revival: This style became popular in the late nineteenth century. Buildings of this type have strictly symmetrical facades and are usually rectangular in plan with no or minimum projections. Eaves have classical detailing, and windows are usually doublehung sash.)

I had always wondered if this house was the carriage house for the large, opulent home to its right, especially given the shared driveway. It was not.

Someone on the posting said, “I thought it was a church.” Now that made me laugh right out loud.

I don’t know when the photo above was taken, but those trellises were present when we lived there in the 1960s and early 1970s. The bush in the front corner of the house beside the driveway is a pink peony bush that I planted for Mom, possibly for Mother’s Day. Its matching companion bush is at the rear corner beside the driveway. When we lived there, I had given her rose bushes that bloomed beautifully along the side of the house, between the peony bushes and the side door and the driveway.

Also filling in that space were Lily’s of the Valley.

Blue Morning Glories climbed the two front trellises.

Before I move on to the history of 530 and 530 1/2 W. Sycamore, I’d like to add some additional photos with a bit of context.

This photo was taken with a traditional camera and was scanned into my system in 2008. I don’t know exactly when it was taken. The old maple tree in the front yard was still there at the time. And so was a second large tree whose shadow you can see near the front of the driveway. That occurred sometime after Mom sold it in 1972 and may have been in the early 2000s.

Gone was “my” tree stump in front of the house, just about where that small bush like thing is to the left of the driveway. I loved that tree stump. It was maybe 2 feet wide and was growing “shooters” from the roots. They were large though, 3 or 4 inches through. One side of the stump had no shooters and was open. That meant that I could sit on the stump and had a built-in back rest of leafy shooters. I sat for hours in my little playhouse in the front yard and read books, wonderful library books. Books were my first passport to the wider world. Sometimes I took my stuffed animals outside with me and read to them, but it took me longer to read out loud, so often they just got to sit with me.

I remember the summer when I was 10 years old looking across the street and realizing I couldn’t read the street sign very well. I got glasses before school started in the fall.

My corner of the world, meaning my bedroom, was the front corner of the upper level that’s most visible. I had two windows, one on the front and one on the side. Inside, there was a dividing wall between that front window and the fireplace which was in our living room. More about that in a minute.

The balcony railing in front of the middle side window was a “faux railing” meaning it was not accessible and you couldn’t get out there. I know because I tried. That small window was in my closet, which was also the access to the attic.

Looking at the house from across the street, one can understand why that family in the beautiful mansion next door was upset when Alberta Brand built this house.

Not only did she build a small house, but it’s right up against the property line on the right side. When we owned this property, the driveway was shared. I truly don’t know who actually owned it and suspect the property line may have been right down the middle.

Why didn’t the owners of the large house purchase at least this lot before Alberta built her house that is still standing a century later?

Neighborhood History

Kokomo wasn’t an old town. In fact, you could say it was a boomtown – and the boom was natural gas discovered in 1886.

In 1868, literally nothing was yet in place in the neighborhood that’s only two blocks from downtown. Both our house and the beautiful house next door would one day be built in that vacant lot with the red arrow. Most of Sycamore was still field and vacant land. The courthouse had been constructed and Railroad Street, now Buckeye, had probably one of few if not the only bridge crossing the Wildcat.

In the mid-1870s, Robert Haskett built that stunning home with a third-floor ballroom next door at 524 W. Sycamore. His land went all the way from Sycamore to Walnut and was truly an estate.

I don’t know for sure, but based on that 1877 map, I’d guess that the original 524 W. Sycamore property was about this size, with 524 just about in the middle, to the right of the red pin marking our house.

After Haskett’s death, the property passed out of the family and the outlots were sold off. At that time, orchards covered most of the land to the west and between Sycamore and Walnut. So our property was in orchards.

530 W. Sycamore was the first house built when the property was subdivided.

I understand why Dr. Lamar Knepple was upset with the sale of the property, but what I don’t understand is why he didn’t purchase the surrounding land, at least part of it.

The history site mentions this canopy over the side door. It was very unusual and I’ve never seen another. What surprises me is that the old trellises remain, and that the actual door seems to be the same too. I recognize the handle and lock. I bet my old key would still work.

There used to be an address and mailbox to the left of the door, for 530 ½ but this home was restored to one residence sometime after 1990 when it was still two apartments. According to the newspaper, in 1996 there was a whole-house sale and in 1997 it was rented as one unit with 4 bedrooms.

Throughout this process, I used Newspapers.com, NewspaperArchive, and the newspapers at MyHeritage.

Alberta Brand

In the 1920 census, Millard Brand and his wife, Alberta, were living on Conradt Avenue. He was a real estate agent. They had married in 1890.

In 1921, he died. The newspaper printed the notice of administration for the estate of Millard F. Brand dated Oct 27, 1921. Alberta was the administrator.

She built the home at 530 W. Sycamore sometime in 1922 or 1923, because she was once again in the newspaper in January of 1924, and not in a good way.

Aberta died, suddenly, on January 15, 1924 in the house she was sharing with her daughter. Her death notice says she had built that house.

The Reverend and Mrs. Gerrard had come to visit Alberta that afternoon. They said they hadn’t been there long, and although Alberta’s health had been deteriorating since her husband’s death, as she had taken it very hard, she did not complain of feeling ill.

Suddenly, she slumped onto the shoulder of the minister’s wife, who was sitting beside Alberta. The minister thought she had fainted, so wiped her face with water. When she failed to revive, he went next door to tell the neighbor, who just happened to be the doctor. Apparently, since the article said he informed the doctor’s wife, the doctor wasn’t home at the time.

Alberta hadn’t fainted, she had died, instantly. I’d wager they were sitting in the living room.

The newspaper article goes on to say that she and Millard had lived on Conradt Avenue but at the time of her death she was living with her daughter in a smaller home she had built on West Sycamore Street. Her daughter is listed as Shirley Brand and her son as Gladstone Brand.

Alberta Brand’s funeral was held at her home at 2 PM on Wednesday, January 16, 1924.

So not only had 530 W. Sycamore seen a death, it had also hosted a funeral and it was only a year or two old.

A Mystery to Unravel

Now we have a mystery to unravel. What happened to Alberta’s house?

Fast forward 18 months.

On May 17, 1925, Fred E. Way and wife, Shirley, are listed as arriving passengers in New York (from Havana, Cuba). Their birth dates and years are given, and there is no question that this is the same person as Shirley Brand. They live in Kokomo, but no specific address is provided.

FindaGrave for Shirley shows her birth date as November 18, 1894 which correlated with the passenger list.

In the 1930 census, Fred’s wife is listed as Shirley E, age 34, married at age 29, so apparently about 1925. They are renting on Mulberry Street, directly across the street from the home I would own four decades later. He’s noted as a salesman. In 1920, he was living with his parents in Jackson, Michigan, listed as a traveling salesman. His draft registration says he is their sole support.

Now things get a bit confusing.

I found the house on Sycamore in the 1930 census by locating the neighbor. However, the house numbers are “off.” Dr. Knepple who we know absolutely is the neighbor in the large home to the right is listed at 534, but the address is 524. A different person is noted at 524 and 530 is shown on the “wrong” side of Knepple. It looks for all the world that the census taker wrote the addresses down, but mixed the residents up. Is this even possible? That seems like a really large error.

I float this as a possibility, in part, because on that same block, we find L. Eugene Smith, wife Glea, and 4-year-old son who are renting for $40 per month. He’s an engineer for Kokomo Glass and Fuel. You’ll meet him in a minute.

Ok, let’s check 1920.

Given that the 1920 census shows LaMar Knepple at 534 West Sycamore as well, I now suspect these houses were renumbered at some point after 1930.

The 1932 City Directory lists L. E. Smith, wife Mary G, an engineer for Northern Indiana Power Co at 550 W. Sycamore. 550? Is that a typo?

The 1933 newspaper for 530 W. Sycamore shows an ad for a lost dog Ph 6923

A 1934 newspaper ad – Boys bike for sale L. E. Smith Ph 6923

1937 – Board of works resolves to pay Shirley E. Way and Gladtone Brand, Heirs of Mrs. Alberta Brand $16,000 for “the property.” This had to do with land south of the city. We have a second confirmation that Shirley Way is Shirley Brand.

In the 1940 census, Fred Way and wife Shirley were renting on Mulberry Street. This is very strange, especially since we know she owned the house on Sycamore.

In 1940, Leander E. Smith (38) and his wife, Glea M, and son, Leander Jr. (14) were living at 530 W. Sycamore and had been living there in 1935. He is shown as a renter. By 1950, he is the chief engineer at the steel mill and living elsewhere.

Ok, this seems bizarre.

July 1941 – The 1966 newspaper in the 25 years ago column – 9 boys from Kokomo among the enrollees at Culver Military Academy. L. E. Smith 530 W. Sycamore. That would be July 1941.

Fred Way’s 1942 draft registration card shows that he and Shirley Way live at the Courtland Hotel and he is a salesman. In its day, the Courtland, a swanky, posh hotel, was THE PLACE to go in Kokomo.

In a 1949 newspaper ad – Mrs. C. F. Smith at 530 W. Sycamore – hems and alterations Ph 6923.

Now, here’s the curve ball.

On April 22, 1950, the Kokomo Tribute reports, “The marriage of Miss Shirley Brand of this city and Fred Way of Jacksonville [Jackson], Michigan took place April 20 at the home of the bride, the Rev. M. H. Garrard officiating.”

Wait? What? But Shirley Brand and Fred had been living as husband and wife for a quarter century, since 1925. During that timeframe, living together unmarried for 25 years was literally unheard of.

Are we POSITIVE these are the same people?

In the 1950 census, Fred Way and his wife, Shirley, are living at 530 W. Sycamore. Yep, positively the same people.

I found their marriage license in Howard County, Indiana and they were married on April 20, 1925 by the Reverend Garrard. Maybe they had divorced at some time? Looking at those dates, sure enough, that original trip was their honeymoon, but why were they remarried under her birth surname?

I strongly suspect that we have a mis-indexing issue, or that this news item was actually in the “25 years ago” column.

February 1952 newspaper article – Mr. and Mrs Fred Way returned from a month-long vacation. They flew and cruised and such. He noted that a lot had changed since they were there 25 years earlier.

January 1952 – Fred Way’s Lincoln automobile was stolen, stripped and burned.

December 31, 1953 newspaper ad – Looking for middle aged lady to stay nights. Mrs. Fred Way at 530 W. Sycamore

This is an unusual ad. Makes me wonder why.

October 14, 1954 – Fred Way was selected as a juror

January 20, 1956 – Fred Way retired from W. F. Whitney Company after 25 years as a sales rep for a furniture maker.

Fred’s wife, Shirley Eudora Brand Way, born in 1894, died on June 21, 1959 in the same house where her mother had died. According to her death certificate, she had liver cancer for three months and died of a hemorrhage.

June 18, 1961 – Fred E. Way hospital dismissal – 530 W. Sycamore

FindaGrave says Fred died in February, 1962 in Florida, age 74, of a heart attack. The Indianapolis news says he was a cattle breeder and spent 25 years as a salesman for the W. F. Whitney furniture manufacturer.

I didn’t realize that the home we bought never left the family who built it. I also had no idea of the age of the house. I did know she bought it from the Way family, and the owners had died.

Mom Buys 530 W. Sycamore

Mom bought the property from the Way estate with her inheritance money.

But it wasn’t quite that straightforward. As an adult, I fully understand what was going on, but as a child I was completely oblivious.

My grandmother had died in 1960 and my grandfather died in June of 1962. Following that, the estate was sold and the proceeds divided.

Mom was divorced and my father was not only absent from our life, he contributed either little or nothing financially, and certainly not on any type of reliable schedule. He fought his own demons which would claim his life less than a year later, in the summer of 1963.

Mom had been dating a well-to-do business owner whose name I refuse to utter. He took advantage of mother, and I’m not referring to the “typical” way, but probably that too. He owned the company she worked for, and he paid her $1.13 per hour, slightly above the $1.00 per hour minimum wage as the bookkeeper and office manager. That equates to about $8.20 today. He assuredly could have made other arrangements. HE certainly made substantially more, drove nice cars, and had nice clothes. We didn’t, yet Mom paid half of the bills, cooked and cleaned for no compensation at all.

Mom wanted to marry and have a normal family life. That had pretty much been her lifelong dream, and so far, it had entirely eluded her.

He-whose-name-shall-not-be-uttered, was recently divorced, knew she had an inheritance and apparently talked Mom into purchasing this property and renovating it into two apartments so that he could live downstairs and Mom and I could live upstairs. That way, should they ever decide to marry, the carrot he dangled, it was just a matter of opening the doors at the bottom of the stairs and voila – easy-peasy – one house again.

Of course, he had no intention of every marrying mother. His intention was to keep her beholden and dependent. It was a great deal for him. He knew she would never be able to afford that house without his financial contribution. He also knew she wanted to marry, and given the circumstances, she would never leave that job. She was now alone and trapped, although she had no idea at the time.

So, he paid her poorly to control her. He also knew that the living and financial arrangement would deter any other man that might be even remotely interested.

Mom bought the house. I think he co-signed the mortgage. I don’t believe he had any financial skin in that game.

His entry into the house was through the front or back door into his kitchen. No one ever used the front door.

Of course, his “nice” car got to be parked in the garage. We, on the other hand, got to dig our vehicle out from under snow, hope it started, and shovel the driveway because Mom had to be at the office to open it for business. He followed sometime later, arriving on an executive schedule.

That concrete block chimney wasn’t there at the time. The windows to the left of the door were his bedroom, but might have been a sitting room or maybe dining room originally.

The corner upstairs windows were Mom’s bedroom and the window at far right above the back door was our kitchen.

Our entrance was through that cute side door and we lived upstairs. I notice that cracks in the mortar have been repaired. I always thought of that useless decorative balcony as romantic. Maybe a way to elope with one’s lover.

There is no garage today, but there was then, although it wasn’t in great shape. No garage doors, just a three-sided structure with an overhanging roof. I think that this limb fell on the garage at some point, but I don’t recall the specifics.

Here’s the view from the house behind the wall that divided the properties, looking at the rear of 530 W. Sycamore today. The houses on this side of Sycamore sat on a hill and overlooked Foster Park and Wildcat Creek, another block away to the south.

The garage used to stand where the tall white fence stands today. To the right, the concrete area fenced with shorter lattice was where Mom parked.

This stunning pine tree towers over the house today, but it was no taller than the roof when we lived there.

I used to sit on a blanket in the back yard in the sunshine beside the tree. Today, the tree IS the back yard!

That pine is the only original tree remaining. At that time, there were two maples on the left side of the house, in addition to at least two mature trees in the front yard. Part of one of those trees came down on the roof in the devastating 1965 Palm Sunday tornado. We watched that tornado rip across the south part of the city from those windows in the front of the house.

The windows in the upper left corner were our living room.

When mother realized what was happening, she raced through the living room, into my bedroom, grabbed me by the hair and literally dragged me half-stumbling down two flights of stairs into the basement. I’m not sure our feet touched any steps. We flew.

On the way down, we heard that tree come crashing down – except we had no idea if it was a tree – or what. I had no idea that those fascinating green and black “clouds” were a tornado. That was my first.

Originally, the upstairs and downstairs floor patterns were identical. The downstairs had a living room, a kitchen, a bathroom and what became his bedroom, but I really have no idea what that room was originally. In essence, the rooms wrapped around the central staircase going both upstairs to the second floor and attic, and downstairs into the basement.

Looking directly at the front of the house, you can see that there is an archway with two doors to the right and left on the porch.

The doors aren’t in the middle because that’s where the fireplace is located, on both floors.

The original upstairs had one large bedroom with a fireplace, which would have been the master, plus two smaller bedrooms.

Either there was no bathroom upstairs initially, or there was only a toilet. I can’t recall exactly, but I think it might have been a closet. What I do remember is that some of Mom’s money went to add a bathroom with a bathtub directly over the bathroom in the lower level. The bathrooms are located in the area that is bumped out.

I planted gardens surrounding the house. On this side, we planted lettuce, tomatoes and lots of flowers. Some even grew. It seemed that nasturtiums, which don’t need good soil, were better suited. I tearfully buried my pet goldfish, Freckles in the garden, followed by a few other goldfish over the years.

There was originally no kitchen on the second floor, so one of the bedrooms was renovated and became the kitchen for our apartment.

However, that meant there was only one bedroom upstairs for me and Mom, both, so a wood panel wall was installed, essentially breaking the long master bedroom upstairs into a living room, with an off-center fireplace, and my small bedroom. The closet was large though, held a dresser, and was also the access to the attic.

I had never had my own room before, so I was ecstatic. It didn’t seem small. It was HUGE to me.

Mom purchased the property that fall, and we actually moved on December 23rd. I remember that I was very concerned that Santa would not know that we had moved.

The night we moved, I heard “Santa” come and put the Christmas tree up in the living room. The next morning, Mom assured me that Santa knew where we lived and the proof was that tree. What a relief!

Silk Stocking Neighborhood

Today, this home is part of the iconic Old Silk Stocking Neighborhood that was, back in the late 1800s, after the discovery of natural gas, where the mansions were built and the movers and shakers lived. Of course, this house was built in the mid-1920s on a small outlot, and far too close to the neighbors for their comfort.

It may be for sale today on the Cheap Houses website, but I prefer to think of it as vintage and stunningly beautiful – brighter, cheerier and far more inviting today than then.

Some things get better with age.

Someone commenting on the listing said they’d move back for this house. That made me feel good. It was my childhood home for a decade or so, where most of my formative years were spent.

I went back a few years ago when I did a goodbye tour in Kokomo. I mustered all of my courage, walked up the driveway and knocked on the door. That was all for nothing, because no one was home. However, I did get to take some closeup photos.

Let me share some with you as I share the history of the home while viewing the realtor’s photos. I’ll add some personal memories too.

On the lower level, which is not where we lived, the fireplace was in the center of the room. This fireplace appears to have been retrofitted with gas and glass doors, but the fireplaces were woodburning when we lived there. Having said that, I don’t recall ever burning them once.

At least some of the floors had wall-to-wall carpet back then. Carpet was all the rage. Wood was old-fashioned. These floors were obviously underneath and they are beautiful.

This view looks towards the side of the house overlooking the driveway. Outside through the symmetrical front doors, you can see the parking lot across the street.

To the left is the entryway where the side door enters to go upstairs. Closing that door, plus the mirror image one on the other side of that foyer, sealed the two apartments from each other. Of course, today, it’s one residence again.

You can tell from this perspective that the room is the full width of the house, but not terribly deep (left to right.) Just about room for a couch and coffee table, and not much more.

This view is from the corner of the downstairs living room beside the fireplace and front door. I had forgotten about that built-in hutch until I saw these photos.

The foyer, again, is painted dark at the far right. The other doorway is the passway to the other side of the house. Opening the door to the right takes you downstairs into the basement where the furnace, water heater and washer were located. We dried our clothes on a drying rack in the bathroom. That stairway divided the house in half, front to back.

Turn left after entering the hallway and you’ll be in the bathroom behind the hutch.

You can see the hallway on the other side of the white molding where there’s wallpaper. That leads to the kitchen and the room that was used as the downstairs bedroom when we lived there.

That hutch looks large, but it isn’t. That bathroom was literally just large enough for a bathtub.

I find this photo just fascinating. The downstairs bathroom is clearly under renovation. This exposes the internal and external walls. No insulation back then of course. The walls were literally lathe and plaster, long before drywall.

There’s room for a toilet and sink on one side, and a tub on the other. That’s it.

Of course, this is the original and the only kitchen today. During the time we lived there, this kitchen was nearly unused. I don’t remember anything about the floor, but I do remember the cabinets were wood and have been replaced.

Outside was a patio where we sometimes grilled.

This kitchen is not a large room. It’s directly under the kitchen of the same size, upstairs. You can see the living room fireplace, looking through the kitchen door.

Turning left from the kitchen takes you into what was the bedroom when we lived there, and what might have been a dining room originally. The doorway to the right exits into the foyer for the side entrance.

Originally, the entire house was heated by hot water, a “boiler” and radiators as you can see in this photo. That radiator, by the front door, was often used to warm coats and sweaters that we would wear outside in the winter. Or, warm something toasty for someone coming inside from the cold. A small table sat on the other side of the door where the radiator sits on this side.

Mom was utterly terrified of that furnace. Boilers were known to blow up, killing or brutally burning people. So if the furnace made a strange noise, she did NOT want to go downstairs to check it out.

I have to laugh. I see the old phone jack on the wall below the electrical outlet. Those were the days of “party lines,” so we had one phone number in the house that was also shared with neighbors. Gladstone 2-7510. Eventually that became 452-7510, then 317-452-7510.

I can manage to remember this number from decades ago, but I can’t remember where I put something 2 minutes ago.

Let’s go upstairs.

Our Apartment

The downstairs looks familiar of course, but I didn’t spend much time there. The upstairs was “home.”

Photos from that timeframe in my family were few and far between. Not only was a camera expensive, but so was film AND developing. Back in the day, you might have the same roll of film in a camera for a year or two. I often had forgotten what I had taken photos of.

Until I purchased a Brownie camera with my babysitting money, the only camera available was either the Polaroid owned by he-whose-name-shall-not-be-spoken or a small camera owned by my brother who brought it along when he came to visit. Let me translate – we only have a very few photos and those are generally only of special occasions like Christmas.

Let’s compare then and now.

How about that wallpaper on the living room ceiling!

Today, this front room has been returned to one room, but when we lived there, it was two. It’s maybe 30-35 feet in length and only about 10 feet deep (left to right.)

My bedroom was at the far end of the room which was divided by placing paneling between the fireplace and the window.

This view shows the two corner windows in what was my bedroom. The light in the center of my room is now the fan and overhead light. My bedroom was wide enough for a single bed, room to walk, and a desk against the outer wall. Maybe 6 feet wide, maximum.  At that time, there was a radiator in the corner between the two windows, against the far wall. I would stare dreamily out the front window, a block away, into Foster Park.

In the poor-quality Polaroid photo below, I’m sitting beside Mom and my sister-in-law at Christmastime 1964.

As a child, that fireplace looked huge and was the central focus of that room. We used to tape Christmas cards to the mantle and sometimes the bricks too, which were painted white then as now.

These photos independently were compelling enough, but combined, more than half a century apart, they literally took my breath away. “Seeing” us “there” again. Well, I just have no words. I did, however, shed lots of tears.

I don’t really know why this is so moving, but it is.

Many of these people are gone now and their memories are dear.

In this view, you can see out my bedroom window, at left. The paneling dividing my bedroom from the living room was placed about where the molding has been pieced, to the left of the fireplace.

The far-right corner of the room is visible in this picture taken at Christmas 1970, when, unfortunately, Mom had the flu. When someone was sick, we always defaulted to the couch for some reason.

I gave those end-tables to my friend, Anne, about a decade ago.

I believe the windows are still original.

Seeing Mom in this room again…I don’t even know what to say. The house she bought against all odds. She was reportedly the first woman in Kokomo to obtain her own mortgage. She never told me, if she even knew. A banker told me years later. I was so very proud of her.

In this photo, I’m ready for the prom and the photo is taken in the living room, with my back to the panel wall that separated the living room from my bedroom.

My brother’s family has that beer stein, brought from Germany by one my maternal great-great-grandparent’s families.

I had purchased that wall painting for Mom at Woolworth’s a few years before. You can see it wrapped in some of the Christmas photos. I thought it was pretty. She kept it until her death. I hope she actually did like it.

You can see where the panel wall joined the outside wall.

My date’s name was Roger. This was the only prom or formal dance I ever attended. I think Mom was at least as excited as I was, if not more. She had high hopes for me and Roger. He was a very nice young man.

You can see through the door into my room. It was barely large enough for the closet door and the door from the living room not to touch.

I believe this is the only photo inside my bedroom. You can see the paneling wall. I had purchased prints overseas in 1970 and Mom had them framed for me for Christmas. In 1970, we begin to have more photos because I bought a camera.

My bed extended in front of the window just slightly. There was room to stand comfortably beside the bed, and the radiator, and not much more.

The leaves on the maple tree, now gone, through the streetlight created graceful dancing patterns on my wall. I found them comforting and almost hypnotic. Today, leaves are often found as themes in my quilts and artwork.

Another photo from around Christmas 1970. We cleared the furniture out of the middle of the room and had a slumber party. Not much sleeping happened, but a lot of laughing and giggling did. Mom and I had tied that comforter that all of us girls used to cover up with on the floor. Mom and I recovered it again with fresh fabric years later, and it eventually warmed my children at my mother’s home.

I think I just used the last scraps from the recovering in a quilt a year or so ago.

I’m not sure if I was sleeping or hiding from the camera.

Mom had to be careful not to step on us when she checked on us. I wonder how many times she had to tell us to go to sleep. Marianne has been gone for decades now, far too soon, her potential unrealized.

In 1970, Mom, holding all 3 of her grandchildren, sitting in the corner with the fireplace (unseen) to the left.

This photo reminds me that those windows would sweat, then freeze, when it got cold outside.

Mom was her happiest when her grandchildren were with her.

We were SOOO excited when we bought that used record player. We played the same records over and over again. I probably just donated the last of those records a couple years ago.

Today, this house is much brighter, lighter, and far more beautiful.

Mom, holding Santa who still lives with me. So does that quilt made by her grandmother, Nora Kirsch Lore.

I remember the mug tree I had bought Mom for Christmas that’s visible on the floor. She was drinking 7-Up out of that teal and white cup.

The radiator in this room is gone now.

In a way, placing these photos in the rooms is like resurrecting Christmas past. I can hear Mom singing Christmas Carols.

I can’t see what Mom just opened, but she’s smiling. I miss her smile.

We always hung those candle wreathes in the windows. Those were our only holiday decorations visible from outside.

I can’t help but notice that Christmas ornament in the lower right corner. I still have that too. It was my grandmother’s.

One last much-less-cluttered view of this corner. Our house was jam packed at Christmas, but not so much the rest of the year. With 700 square feet, with part of that used up by a hallway and stairway, there just wasn’t room for much of anything extra.

I’m a teen here and certainly thought I was grown.

I would like to talk to that young woman. I wonder what we would have to say to each other. Would she believe that I’m the future her? Would she change that path? If so, who would I be?

This window used to look out at the large maple tree that fell in the tornado. The far doorway exits to the hallway with the bathroom and that leads to the rest of the house.

The white small door in the corner is the access to the bathtub plumbing.

The doorway to the far right, painted white inside, was my closet. To the right inside, against that small window with the exterior balcony, there was room for a small dresser. Good thing, because there wasn’t any place else. Inside that closet, if you turned left, you opened the door to take the finished stairs to the attic. By finished, I mean there were stairs and it wasn’t open. We will go upstairs later.

You can see how small this corner really is. Mom, at left, me, my mother’s brother, Lore behind her, beside my sister-in-law, Karen, and my brother, John in the red shirt. Plus, he-who-shall-remain-nameless.

You can see the carpeted portion of the floors in this photo. I don’t know if this is original hardwood or has been replaced.

I think that lamp in the corner made it to my daughter’s college apartment.

Glancing back to July of 1965.

Often, our Christmas tree wound up in that corner. I gave many of my ornaments to friends when we relocated a couple years ago, but I couldn’t part with my mother’s and grandmother’s things.

I wonder if any part of the essence of “us” remains there.

This photo from Christmas 1970 slows the light fixture where the fan hangs today. You can barely see it but there’s mistletoe hanging from it. You can see the window, of course, and the plumbing access behind that very old television. We only bought used appliances, and it was old even then. But it worked and that was all that mattered. Mom and I watched Lassie and Bonanza every Sunday evening, and sometimes Tom Jones too.

This photo made me laugh out loud. No, it’s not a mistletoe memory. See that plumbing access door behind the tree? It’s cracked open.

Our cat, Snowball, used to open that door with her paw just because she could. Normally we kept it blocked, but we had to move the furniture to accommodate the tree.

This will be a beautiful master bedroom suite for someone, with a large walk-in closet. There’s even room for a Christmas tree if they want.

Hey, there’s the fluffy culprit, under the Christmas tree.

This photo is interesting, because I just noticed that the carpet was not wall to wall, and some of the beautiful hardwood is showing.

That carpet was hideous. Hideous!!! I think the carpet pad was horsehair and was constantly unraveling. You can see an example. Mom and I both hated that.

Against the long wall, Mom and I had metal bookcases from my grandmother’s house where we displayed family heirlooms and collectibles.

I still have some of those and so does my brother’s family. Other items I’ve gifted to family members. I remember dusting those shelves every Saturday morning. Mom told me that’s how I helped her earn a living.

It seemed like a huge job at the time.

You can see a few sets of salt and pepper shakers. Those swans on the top shelf are in my display case, today.

In Nov of 1966, I displayed those salt and pepper shakers at the local library.

I was very excited about this opportunity.

I had nearly forgotten about this event, were it not for searching for the house address. I remember how delighted I was to have my picture taken by the real newspaper photographer. I also agonized over what to wear.

That long photo hanging on the paneling wall in my prom photo was wrapped in that striped paper. I purchased it in 1970 for Mom.

Ok, anyone recognize that record album cover?

The hallway into the bathroom was gold when we lived there.

Today, the upstairs bathroom is about the same color as the hallway was back then. I remember those knobs on the walls. Seemed like such a strange place. I’m fairly certain that tub is the one Mom had installed. We only ever used about 3 inches of water to keep the water bill to a minimum. To this day I cherish a long, hot bath with a FULL TUB of water.

I don’t remember anything about the original bathroom floor, but this doesn’t look new.

I can tell that this house has been retrofitted with forced air heat, which assuredly includes air conditioning.

This is not the same vanity, but it might be the same mirror. After dinner on the day Mom had it installed, I was brushing my teeth. She was nagging me to hurry up. I did, but begrudgingly.

I walked out of the bathroom and I mean literally, not 2 seconds later, an ear-piercing CRASH right behind me. There was a horrific, horrific, piercing deafening noise. The mirror, which was only glued in place had fallen and shattered across the sink and countertop, with shards scattered EVERYPLACE. I was so close I had little cuts and scratches on the back of my legs.

Mother ran screaming towards me. I froze in place because there was glass flying around me and on the floor and I needed to figure out what had just happened before moving.

Mother realized how close I’d come, and so did I. She grabbed me, hugged me, and just held me for the longest time. She told me later I would have been decapitated had it fallen across the back of my head and neck if I were still brushing my teeth. I’ve always been very leery of large mirrors. I think I used one of my 9-lives that day.

Mom of course used that opportunity to remind me of why I should always mind her.

Notice there are brackets on that mirror today. I always notice brackets on mirrors.

The reason the towel bar is on the back of the door is because there isn’t anyplace else to put one.

Let’s go across the hall.

This was Mom’s bedroom. It looks out over the driveway at the large house next door. I don’t recall it being so close, but it obviously was.

I remember putting our clothes over the radiator to warm them on cold winder days. I also remember “bleeding” the radiators to purge the air bubbles so they didn’t make so doggone much noise. Mom called the man in the furnace “Mr. Clank.”

“Mr. Clank is at it again.”

The small telephone table, which I still have, was positioned beside the radiator. If a boyfriend called me, there was literally no such thing as privacy. Worse yet, Mom screened all my calls😊

Our one radio which doubled as an alarm was in Mom’s bedroom. I wanted to listen to WLS rock and roll in Chicago. That was a flat “no.”

You obviously can’t have a slumber party without doing your hair and makeup as Marianne demonstrates. No, I do not understand this logic, but it clearly made sense then. That’s a hair dryer, for those of you fortunate enough to have escaped those. I think it might have been attached to a vacuum cleaner, but I’m not sure.

That window behind the hideous gold drapes overlooked the driveway. The good news, or bad news, is that no one could come or go up the driveway in either house without everyone in both houses knowing it.

Me getting ready for the prom a year or so later. You can see the drapes in the mirror. I still have many of Mother’s vanity items, along with the vanity. They will be my daughter’s one day and then will hopefully find their way to either a cousin or collector who will appreciate them. They aren’t monetarily valuable, per se, I just couldn’t let them go.

You can’t see much of Mom’s bedroom here, but her vanity was to the left of her closet door. In fact, the door would hit the vanity so we had a trash can sitting there to act as a buffer. I still have her bedroom set, at least part of it, although it’s much the worse for decades of wear.

From the far corner of Mom’s bedroom, you can see into the bathroom across the hall. Mom’s closet was not large, was crammed and in addition to clothes and the vacuum, she hid Christmas gifts in there. She probably figured if she hid them under the vacuum cleaner that there was no chance of anyone ever finding them.

Mom’s bed was along the wall to the right. My grandmother’s wool rug was underneath the bed, but that rug was threadbare and motheaten to death and was disposed of years ago. It might be even beyond shabby chic today.

If you walk into that hallway and turn right, you’ve entered the kitchen.

The kitchen was small, maybe 10 by 10 or 10 by 12. One window, at left, looked to the west towards the white house. A huge maple shaded the kitchen from the afternoon sun and the squirrels used to come and sit on the windowsill. I might or might not have given them treats. Don’t tell Mom!

We had no air conditioning, of course, so we placed a window fan in that window and pointed it OUT, not in. Mom and I disagreed over that, but she wanted the hot air to be ejected. Of course, I argued that it simply sucked hot air in from the attic where it was hotter than outside.

I used to sing out through that fan because it caused interesting, rippled acoustics. Those poor neighbors.

Mom left the house closed up all day and said it kept the cool air in. Couldn’t prove that by me. There was nothing cool about the second floor of a house with no insulation in the dead of summer.

The kitchen table was located in front of the rear window at right. We loved to watch the birds in that pine tree flitting about. I didn’t understand until years later that they were mating.

I can close my eyes and see that Formica table and chairs. The table was pushed up against the window because the room wasn’t big enough for the fourth side of the table to be pulled away from the wall.

I did most of my homework on this table, at Mom’s secretary, or on the couch in the living room. When I had to type a term paper, this is where that happened on the old manual Olivetti typewriter. I actually loved to type and I loved to research. Apparently, I still do.

Every night, the same routine occurred. Mom, came home at 5 PM after working all day. Then she cooked dinner. He-who-shall-remain-nameless took his fine self down to the bar at the Frances Hotel for a drink, or three, or six, then came home in time to sit down to dinner. Often, we got the silent treatment for some imagined slight. However, that was often better than when he said something.

He would finish, put his cloth napkin IN HIS PLATE, then get up and go downstairs to his apartment. He was tired, don’t you know. Mom and I did the dishes and cleaned up, because of course, Mom wasn’t tired.

EVERY. SINGLE. NIGHT.

Mom and I ate out once every year. Just once. As a reward when I passed from one grade to the next, I got to pick where to eat, and it was always the same place. I always ordered spaghetti at the Capri Club, now long gone. The other 364 days, we cooked.

As time went on, he came home drunker and drunker and later and later as we held dinner and tried to pretend all was well.  He became more and more abusive.

Finally, I’d had enough.

I put a thumbtack on his chair, pointy end up.

That man roared like a lion.

Yes, I was in a lot of trouble and paid for it, but it was worth it.

He was not a nice man by any measure. That was someplace near the beginning of the end of that relationship. As far as I was concerned, it could have ended right then and there, but Mom had a lot of factors to consider, and she was still at least somewhat hopeful. “If he would just stop drinking.” How many people have said that!

Mom’s default was always hopeful, happy, trusting, optimistic. She would have liked to have been treated well, not just on display like a trophy from time to time. She was a beautiful woman, full of life and charisma.

She reminded me of Cinderella. She spent most of her life either at work or in the kitchen, with no time, money or energy for much else.

Ok, back to the kitchen.

Out of sight, to the right, on the back wall of the kitchen that was shared with Mom’s bedroom was the fridge.

The stove was located on the wall to the left of the window where the picture is on the floor in the Zillow kitchen photo. Above the stove were cabinets.

I clearly surprised Mom with the camera. How we all hated those rollers. Anyway, you can see the kitchen curtains, which we made, and the cabinets butting up to the window frame at left. The stove took up that space, below, then the corner to the cabinets. We couldn’t open the oven door and the cabinets at the same time.

The sink and the rest of the cabinets were to the left, out of sight in these photos. Remember that this room is small and the entire wall to the left with the sink is only the length of the bathtub. That’s it. That wall is shared with the bathroom wall. We had about 2 feet of counter space, yet Mom made do and never complained.

Obviously all of that cabinetry and plumbing is gone today, and has been now for probably 25-30 years, based on newspaper rental and sale advertisements.

The Attic

Let’s look at the attic, back through the closet in my bedroom. We used to hang the “rag bag” on the outside of the attic door. My closet was always freezing cold in the winter. No heat combined with the attic stairs and door. Brrrr.

The attic was always an alluring, mystical place to me. I just knew secrets were hidden there.

Secrets like those suitcases with stage costumes. Where did they come from? Whose were they? Why did Mom not want me to wear them for Halloween? They would be just perfect.

Nope, Mom really didn’t want me poking around up there at all.

Mom’s old travel suitcase with documents was up there too. I had no IDEA what a treasure-trove was contained there.

By the time Mom gave me her “Suitcase of Life,” she had pared it down substantially. Probably the goodies I’d want to see. I remember some things that are missing.

This attic photo just warms my heart. First, the attic was not drywalled or heated when we lived there. Just open lathe board, dust and a few spiders. It was very drafty in the winter but had an exciting “attic” musty smell that suggested unknown mysteries.

The flooring is original. I remember thinking how beautiful those fireplace bricks were, and how sorry I was that they had been painted in the house.

Notice one of the removed radiators.

Those unique half windows used to remind me of eyes. I never thought they were creepy, but someone commented on the listing that they are the same windows at the Amityville Horrors house. I’m glad I didn’t know that.

The rear attic window looked out back. There was only one light bulb at the time, and the switch was in the stairway near the bottom. It was easy to hear bears, or something, maybe ghosts, in the attic from time to time, and since the door exited into my room….well….you get the drift.

Sometimes I went and crawled in bed with Mom.

The Rest of the Story

Viewing a home you lived in brings back the good memories, and all the rest too.

There’s more to this story.

There wasn’t a good way to weave this into the photos, because the photos aren’t a linear timeline.

We bought the house in December of 1962.

We lived close enough to the YWCA that I could walk the few blocks to and from and began taking swimming lessons on Saturday mornings. That eventually evolved into lifesaving and competitive swimming.

I loved those days because we had so much fun, created crafts and all kinds of things you can’t do as an only child, without others, and without supplies. It was also less structured than school, and school didn’t have fun activities like trampolines, roller skates and a pool. Nosireee.

I came home one Saturday noon and told my Mom that my head ached really, really badly. It got worse and worse and very quickly. Within a couple hours, I couldn’t move. Mom took me to the hospital. I had Meningitis and very nearly died.

I drifted in and out of consciousness. My fever soared. I remember ice baths and excruciating pain. I was so sick, I wanted to die, then I didn’t care.

I remember parts of that experience vividly, and some, not at all.

What I remember most was the out-of-body experience.

Mom sat by my bed, alone, for days. She was always there when I roused enough to open my eyes. Sometimes I just heard her voice which was comforting.

Looking back, she had to have been a hot mess because not only was I very clearly critically ill, with a poor prognosis, but she couldn’t pay the bills if she didn’t work – and there literally was no buffer. Nonetheless, she wasn’t leaving my bedside.

The doctor came into the room and asked to speak to mother – outside. I was in an oxygen tent that was sort of opaque. I could hear fairly well but everything was foggy.

I was too sick to move and there was no way I was getting up.

Mom left the room with him and turned left in the hallway.

I “went along,” sort of floating at shoulder level, or sometimes just above their heads. I wanted to hear what they said.

They went to the seating area at the end of the hallway. There were windows looking out over the parking lot and street.

It was a sunny day. I can still “see” this.

He asked Mom if she needed to call anyone. The staff had obviously noticed that she was alone.

She asked what he meant.

He asked if there was anyone who would like to see me, or I might like to have visit.

She seemed confused and told him that my father and her parents were all deceased.

He told her that it was likely that I would not live.

My mother asked him to explain.

He did, telling her how sick I was and that the extremely high fever was the most worrisome.

She stood up, looked at him dead in the face, stomped her foot and proclaimed,”SHE IS NOT GOING TO DIE,” twice, and walked off, back to my room.

I remember thinking to myself, “Oh, well I guess I’m not going to die then.”

I went back to my room too.

Yes, I realize this all sounds bizarre, but in that time and place, it all seemed very normal.

I later told mother that I had heard that conversation and she told me that wasn’t possible, because they were not in my hospital room. Then she paused and said she had never told anyone about the conversation.

I told her that I “went with them.”

She just looked at me. We stared at each other for a long minute.

Obviously, I didn’t die.

Mrs. Cooksey, my babysitter from when I was younger came to see me in the hospital. But my brother didn’t, although he lived an hour away, and neither did he-who-shall-remain-nameless.

My mother did. Just my mother. It was becoming increasingly obvious that we really only had each other.

According to the newspaper, on May 6, 1966, I was released from the hospital.

Also, in May 1966, this was printed in that same newspaper. I only recall that in Sunday School, we were encouraged to write a prayer. I don’t know if it was before or after I was so gravely ill. Odd that I mentioned “time,” because that was the gift I had been granted.

The Secret

I discovered something rather shocking when using the various newspaper archives to research the address.

On September 28, 1968, I found this:

Marcum Realty, New Listing – 530. W. Sycamore – brick 2-story, 7 room duplex, perfect cond, new wall to wall carpet. Built in oven and range, all draperies, washer, refrig. A 3 room apt down, 4 room apartment up. Private entrance, separate light meters. This is a beautiful home and must be seen to appreciate. $25,000

My first reaction was that the address was wrong in the ad, but the description of the two apartments pretty much cinches that it’s the right property. Plus, this ad was printed several times for at least a couple months. If the address was incorrect, it would have been changed.

I was dumbstruck to see this. I had no idea.

Looking back, I know what was going on, and why, but it just makes me heartsick.

By 1968, mother’s relationship with he-who-shall-remain-nameless had been deteriorating. He was drinking heavily, becoming progressively more abusive, and let’s just say I was getting older. His behavior toward me was becoming increasingly inappropriate, until one day he stepped over the line with his advances. I was 12.

Let’s just say a brawl ensued. Mother heard me screaming. I had grabbed a table fan and was beating him with the fan, attempting to get him to release me.

Mother jumped on his back like a tiger and grabbed him around the neck. Then we were both beating on him, on the floor. He extracted himself and left.

Mother called the police.

I was questioned, she was questioned and eventually, he was questioned.

It was all very disconcerting and frightening. There was discussion about taking me away from mother. That utterly terrified both of us.

No charges were ever filed. I was fortunate that the event was “only attempted.” Having said that, it was an incredible violation of trust and had I not screamed, grabbed that fan which was the only thing within reach, and mother had not come running, it would unquestionably have been far worse. It also confirmed that my instincts in not liking him were 100% correct. From that day forward, my feelings towards him flipped from dislike to much worse. I despised him.

Mother was still working for him, but she was utterly furious in a way and to a depth that I think only a parent whose child has been put in that position can understand. I don’t know how she managed to even look at him. Mostly, we avoided him. No more meals. Nothing. He was gone most of the time and we were grateful.

The problem was that, aside from working for him, I think he co-signed for the house. I’m unclear about the actual title. Given his behavior, at that point, it didn’t matter.

He got told in no uncertain terms to move. No option. I suspect that the fact that charges were not filed had something to do with why he complied, moved, and did not fire mother. Those statements I gave the police were pretty incriminating.

However, mother was utterly and completely miserable, but not because he was gone. More because he had turned out to be what he was and the situation she had to deal with.

Day to day she was not only worried about her job, she was worried about not being able to pay the mortgage and utilities. Plus she was worried about me, and about me being taken away from her. That’s when she took side work doing legal transcriptions and such. I was babysitting regularly. We pooled our money.

At least our grocery bill had shrunk substantially and we were both, separately, and together, much happier.

What I hadn’t known, until now, was that mother actually listed the house for sale.

I recall one time she was sitting on the side of my bed and told me that we might have to sell the house. I asked where we would live. She said she didn’t know. She was a wreck. We both cried.

The assaulter continued his downward spiral too. Drinking ever more and developed issues with the business. Two or three years later, he would sell it to keep it from going bankrupt. Mother was quite relieved when it sold, because even with a new owner, at least the constant baiting, passive aggressive manipulation and drama was finally over.

Mother was constantly, continually dealing with uncertainty and danger. She tried to shield me from as much as possible, which is why I never knew she had actually put the house on the market for sale. There was never a sign in the yard, but maybe that wasn’t a thing yet back then.

Clearly, she didn’t sell the house – at least not yet.

She rented the downstairs apartment to a very nice lady, Maxine, who was either a widow or divorced, with an adult son who was away at college.

I remember her telling us that Snowball, the cat, sounded like an elephant upstairs when she got the zoomies.

Maxine was a lovely lady. Our life settled down and a great deal of the uncertainty and chronic anxiety evaporated. I don’t think we had realized how bad it had gotten until it stopped.

Maxine lived in the downstairs apartment until Mom sold the property. I made clothes for her for a little extra income.

The house was ours. He wasn’t involved anymore, ever.

For the first time in my life, I was actually joyful. Life now looked like a smorgasbord of opportunity, just waiting for me to make selections. It was. I earned a scholarship to study overseas in 1970.

Mom and I were doing any number of fun things together. We visited relatives and parks. She took me to New York to catch the flight for my study abroad. After what she had survived, even NYC traffic didn’t frighten her.

In 1970 or 1971, Mid States Electric was finally sold to Universal Electric and her job was finally not in jeopardy every day. By this time, I think she had been interviewing and had backup plans.

I hadn’t realized before that Mother had never been truly happy – at least not in the part of her lifetime I could recall. Now she was.

New Chapter

Mom joined Parents Without Partners and became the newsletter editor.

Mom is barely visible to the left of the lady the blue dress at the officer installation dinner in 1971.

According to the August 15th edition of the newspaper, she was also in charge of a VERY important event – the Ice Cream Social.

I remember that ice cream social well.

Ice cream was hand made in a crank-turned barrel, much like this. We all took turns cranking.

That social did not take place at our house. Nope. We didn’t have enough room for either people or parking. It took place at the home of another PWP member who lived on a farm – Dean Long.

I remember Dean well too. He was just the nicest man. Everyone loved Dean.

PWP had far more female members than men. Most of the male members had custody of and were raising at least one child. Dean was a widower and had a son, Gary, just a couple years older than me.

Dean would come to town in the evenings, after his farm work was done, and after dinner, usually bringing some kind of treat. He would visit the various women in PWP, offering to fix whatever needed fixing. The lady would make coffee or tea. He would fix whatever. They would share the cookies or donuts or sweet treat, visit for a bit, talk about whatever needed to be discussed, then off he would go.

He managed to visit everyone about once a month or every 6 weeks.

One day it was our turn. He walked up the driveway with a spring in his step, wearing his blue suit, carrying a box of donuts.

He rang the doorbell. Mom whispered not to answer it. She was tired and didn’t want company.

He rang again. I looked out my window at him. I felt awful. He was so nice and obviously lonely.

He paused for a long time, then rang a third time.

He surely, surely had to know we were home because the garage out back didn’t have a door and our car was there. Maybe he didn’t look. I hope he didn’t look, because he would have known we were home and intentionally not answering the door.

When he walked away, the spring was gone. His shoulders were hunched over. He looked at the ground, and he was dejected as he walked down the driveway, got in his car, and drove away.

I was furious with mother. I told her I would never, ever do that again.

Mother was afraid that he was “courting,” and she did not want to get involved in a relationship again. Plus, he was a farmer and she swore she’d never move back to a farm again. Famous last words.

If the name Dean Long sounds familiar to you, there’s a reason. Mother’s resistance didn’t work at all. I’d like to take a small amount of credit for that. Not only did I answer the door, I was just awful enough that she needed to be comforted from time to time.

The Sale for Real

On August 19, 1972, the newspaper carried a classified ad for the Sycamore property.

Garage sale, Avon bottles, some antiques, misc, Sat 9-2, Sun 11-?

The house sold that August. I believe the neighbor’s son bought it, but I don’t recall for sure.

We had a LOT of sorting and packing to do.

Mom was also in the process of changing jobs again. It was time.

Problem was that the house sold and closed quicker than mother anticipated.

Two or three weeks before the wedding and she was not ABOUT to move in to his house before they were married. Snowball, however, moved and met his dog, Spot.

Dad in the background, my step-brother, Gary and Spot during the moving-in process.

Combining two households was challenging and messy, but we were all very happy to create our blended family.

Dean became Dad, and we, much like the proverbial fairy tale lived happily as a “normal” family for many years.

What About You?

What can a combination of googling an address and using newspaper subscription sites reveal for you? What does Zillow say?

Is the house where you grew up still standing? If not, can you construct its genealogy through your local newspapers, tax and real estate records, and historical sites?

What about your grandparents’ homes?

Let me know what fun things you discover.

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Honorius Lord (1768-1834): Catholic Church Records Illuminate Migration Along the Richelieu River – 52 Ancestors #393

Honoré Lord’s parents were among the Acadian people horrifically displaced from their homes in Acadia, now Nova Scotia, in 1755 amid fire, flame and destruction. That event, known as “Le Grand Dérangement,” is translated to “The Great Upheaval,” and that’s clearly an understatement. The expulsion was essentially a genocidal cleansing event. Thankfully, it wasn’t entirely successful.

These people were treated horribly; deceived, deported, separated from their families and worldly goods, suffering greatly – but somehow, they did not break. Those that survived did the best they could wherever they wound up. What else could they do?

Life Continued, at Least for Some

The location of Honoré Lord’s birth is somewhat uncertain. Brother Bernard, now deceased, a benevolent Catholic priest, assisted with this research for some time. He understood the Church, the history, and could transcribe and translate old French records.

Many of the relevant records were not online, available, or indexed at that time. I was then and remain very grateful for his assistance.

Honoré was reported to have been born March 5, 1766 in Connecticut, but I’ve never seen a source for that date. I suspect it was being copied from tree to tree before his baptism was located, but I’m not sure.

Brother Bernard did not find his baptism record. Then again, with a displaced people, exactly where do you look?

Honoré, also written as the Latin Honorius, was also more generally credited with being born in New England. His baptismal record was discovered in Yamachiche, Canada by cousin Sylvain some years after Brother Bernard had passed away. Honoré was baptized on February 28, 1768. However, his date of birth is not recorded.

Brother Bernard had, at one time, explained the difference between the black robes and the grey robes. According to Brother Bernard, the Catholic priests of that time wore black robes. Episcopalian/Anglican priests wore grey robes. In a pinch, a Catholic couple would have an Episcopal priest baptize their child, one of the grey robes, but as soon as possible, a black robed priest would rebaptize the child. In a real pickle, meaning the child was in danger of dying, anyone, preferably a Catholic, could baptize the child. Many midwives and grandmother’s baptized babies who were sickly or weak.

Same goes for weddings. Better, apparently, to be married by a grey robe than not at all.

Babies born in the Colonies during the time the Acadians were displaced without a Catholic priest to baptize them properly were baptized as soon as the parents could reasonably do so.

Truth be known, Honoré could have been born in New England, then baptized in Yamachiche after his parents arrived in that area.

Yamachiche was small, just 20 families and 100 people in 1723. Yamachiche grew rapidly between 1765 and 1790 with new Acadian settlers.

According to the Acadie website, in July 1767, a schooner arrived at the mouth of the Yamachiche River carrying a large contingent of Acadians who were originally deported to Massachusetts. The Lesieur family, still the owner of the Grosbois-East seigneury, was ready to welcome them on a concession still to be cleared of trees.

Up to 42 Acadian families, or 192 individuals, settled on the Lesieur family’s concession. The French-Canadian villagers of St. Anne of Yamachiche parish, founded in 1722, gave them a warm welcome. Canada was then under British rule, so of course their fellow Frenchmen welcomed these good French-speaking Catholics who were brave and supportive.

The parish priest, Jacques-Maxime Chef from the city of La Garenne hastened to validate the marriages and baptisms of all Acadians whose life-events could not officially take place in Massachusetts or elsewhere in the colonies for lack of Catholic priests.

Honoré was baptized at Saint Anne d’Yamachiche on February 28, 1768.

Given that the Acadians couldn’t be baptized or married in the Catholic church in New England, many were baptized or had their marriages validated after their return to Canada. Life went on in the Colonies, of course, and the messy details were cleaned up later, given that their religious omissions were due to no fault or choice of their own. In fact, had they been willing to convert, they probably would never have been deported in the first place.

Yamachiche is still small today, with the main street, Rue Ste Anne, an eclectic combination of old and new. The original church has been replaced.

Honoré’s parents likely lived in something akin to a resettlement camp and the priest was a missionary. The church was probably makeshift in this frontier river town of Catholic refugees.

Parents

Honoré’s parents were Honoré Lord (Sr.) and Apolline Garceau who were both born in 1742 in Port Royal, before the horrific removal which occurred in 1755.

We know they were married before they arrived back in Canada, because their marriage validation provides us with proof positive.

The original church at Becancour was built in 1722 and burned in December of 2000.

Brother Bernard’s translation of the marriage validation of Honorius Lord and Apolline Garceau.

Validation at Becancour, Quebec, Parish of the Nativity, 1767, page 47.

“In the year 1767, on the 29th of September, we, undersigned missionary priest of the Parish of the Nativity of Becancour, validated the marriage between Honoré Lor and Apolline Garsau, both Acadians, who had been married by Francois Landry in England (New England was meant), no impediment having been discovered to said marriage, we gave them the nuptial benediction according to the form prescribed by our Mother the Holy Church, and this in presence of Fracous Lagrave and of Antoine Sabourin, who declared they know not how to sign this register,  (Signed)  F Louis Demers, Recollet Priest”

If Honoré had been born in 1766, you’d think that his parents would have had him baptized at the same time they had their vows valided, but they didn’t.

This suggests strongly that Honoré was actually born a day or so before he was baptized in 1768. His parents certainly would not have waited two years to have his rebaptism performed. We know they were back in Canada, in a Catholic church, in September of 1767. In fact, if Honoré was born in February of 1758, his mother was about 4 months pregnant for him at his parent’s marriage validation. He wasn’t the first child to be present at his parent’s wedding, but this was a bit different.

We don’t know exactly where the Honoré Lord’s parents and grandparents spent the very long years between 1755 and 1766-1768, but we do have some hints.

New York

In 1755, families were not necessarily permitted to depart Acadia together. The expulsion was sprung on the Acadians as a surprise so they had no ability to prepare. The men were essentially captured and held hostage. The women and children joined them on the deportation ships. They were forced to leave everything except their children behind. Their farms were burned and their livestock killed in front of their eyes. Some of their family members were tortured and killed as well.

Beyond that, families were split up however they managed to be herded onto ships with far distant destinations. Some ships sank. Many family members had absolutely no idea where the rest of their family had been taken, or if they were even alive. Mortality was high and starvation was rampant.

Some Lord family members were found in Massachusetts, but they don’t seem to be close family.

However, we do know that Daniel Garceau, Honoré Lore’s grandfather, was living in New York state, and so were Lord, Lort and Comeau families that were heavily intermarried and later found together in l’Acadie in Canada. In fact, two of Honoré’s siblings also married Garceau siblings.

Acadians in New York were distributed in small groups, transported to the counties of Westchester (Bronx), King’s (Brooklyn), Queen’s (Queens), Richmond (Staten Island), Orange and Suffolk.

Approximately 344 Acadians were in New York in August, 1756, and about one third were indentured from 4 to 7 years. You do what you need to do to survive.

Return to Canada

The Acadians were given permission to return to Quebec, Canada in 1766.

The Massachusetts Legislature sent a delegation to Quebec in March 1766. The delegation obtained a permit from the English Governor Murray for the displaced Acadians to immigrate to Quebec Province.

A group of 90 exiles sailed from Massachusetts to Quebec in 1766, joining forces with the Acadians who had fled there from Nova Scotia after 1755. They settled near Quebec City and along the Nicolet and Richelieu Rivers.

Many individuals, including Honoré Lord’s parents, settled along the St. Lawrence River and tributaries between Quebec City and Montreal.

Honoré’s parents had their marriage, which had occurred someplace in New England, validated in Becancour, across the river from Trois Rivieres in September of 1767.

Honoré’s parents seem to have been trying to find a permanent place to settle. After his 1768 baptism in Yamachiche, his siblings were baptized elsewhere.

Life along the Richelieu River

Marie Ann Lord born in 1769 was baptized in Saint-Denis.

Francois born in 1771 was born and baptized the following day in St. Ours on the Richelieu River which flows north from Lake Champlain to the St. Lawrence River. For the most part, rivers were their roads.

Honoré’s little sister, Claire, died at 20 months of age in the middle of January in 1775. His mother gave birth to another baby just 7 weeks later.

While St. Ours was a very early settlement, I’d wager this wasn’t the original church. However, the cemetery was assuredly located nearby, and the family would have stood together as they buried their baby girl on that cold January day, just four months shy of her second birthday.

I do wonder if the ground was frozen. Did they have to wait until springtime?

The old Catholic cemetery closed in 1878 and has no headstone photos which makes me wonder if there are any headstones – now or ever.

The current cemetery is here, a block or so behind the church, but if you turn around, you see the back of the church, and what looks to be a school.

The old Catholic Cemetery at St. Ours is full of Acadians, including uncles, aunts, nieces and nephews of Honoré Lore.

The cemetery GPS coordinates show the address of 2540 Immaculee-Conception which resolves to this location, right beside the church. There is some type of historical marker beneath that tree, but I can’t get close enough with Google maps to see what it says. That house, at left, looks ancient too.

The Richelieu River runs right behind the church, and the coordinates for the old cemetery resolve right next door (red arrow), where the trees and colorful flag are today, between the church and the ancient-looking house. The family would continue to migrate down that river and wind up near St.-Jean-sur-Richelieu, which, a few miles later, crosses over the border between the US and Vermont and New York in the form of Lake Champlain, but that’s a story for the next generation.

Following Family

Fortunately most Catholic church records exist in this region during this timeframe. It’s those records that allow us to track the family’s movements.

The next three of Honoré’s siblings were baptized in St. Ours as well.

However, Marie Charlotte born in 1777 and Jean Baptiste born in 1779 were given conditional baptisms in 1787 in L’Acadie, further down the river. Why? Where was the family in 1777 and 1779 that they would not have had their children baptized? I’m pretty sure I know the answer, but I’m not going to spill those beans here. That’s Honoré’s father’s incredible story.

The children born through 1802 were baptized in L’Acadie, and the balance at St. Luc.

Honoré’s grandfather, Jacques Lord died in 1786 in Nicolet, Quebec, across the river from Yamachiche. Honoré’s paternal uncles died in the same region. Charles died in 1797 in Trois Rivieres, maybe 10 miles upriver from Yamachiche, Pierre Benjamin died in 1813 in Nicolet and Jean in 1809 in St. Ours.

Honoré’s maternal grandfather, Daniel Garceau died in 1772 in Yamachiche and his grandmother Anne Doucet, in 1791 in Sorel, at the mouth of the Richlieu River and the St. Lawrence.

Honoré’s mother’s siblings were all buried in the same or nearby locations.

You can see the family working its way down the river, one village, one church at a time. Looking for opportunity and land to farm.

Within the space of a two decades, the DNA of the Lore family, and their extended families, was seemingly scattered in every Catholic Cemetery along the St. Lawrence.

Those families HAD to have been living in close proximity in New York for their son, Honoré Lord to marry Appoline Garceau around 1765. Two of Appoline’s siblings also married Lord brothers.

Those families returned from wherever they were exiled together and remained nearby for the duration of their lives.

I suspect losing most of your family would give you a new level of appreciation for the family you have left.

Dark Days

An interesting meteorological event occurred that would have been fascinating and perhaps frightened families living in this region.

The following is from the Canadian Weather Trivia Calendar by David Phillips – on this day – “October 9 ,1785 – the “dark days” occurred today in Montreal and for a week after. Fog persisted until 10 o’clock, when wind cleared the air.

Within 30 minutes, darkness succeeded but rain dispelled it. Near noon the dark stopped church services until candles were lit. At 2:00 p.m. and 4:30 p.m., perfect darkness held for a short time and candles were lit again. A storm followed each darkness, the rain filled with sulphur.” October 9th was Sunday.

The Newport, Rhode Island newspaper on December 5th reported:

Montreal, October 20. On Sunday the 16th the air was darkened by a thick fog which dissipated about 10 o’clock. The atmosphere was of a luminous, fiery, color. About 2 o’clock in the afternoon, it became dark by degrees, in such a manner, that about half an hour after 2, people could not see one another in the houses. This lasted 20 minutes and was followed by lightning, thunder and rain, which gradually diminished the darkness. It was, however, very difficult to read without candlelight at 3 o’clock.

This period was of short duration, for the darkness came on again at 7 minutes past three and it grew by degrees as dark as before, insomuch that no night ever was more obscure than it was at this time. The black clouds dispersed about 14 minutes past 3, but lightning, thunder and a heavy rain continued till about half after 5.

Doctor Serre who resides in this city says that having perceived the rain water that fell during the shower to be of a black colour, he smelt it and finding it has a sulfurous smell, he placed in the middle of his yard a muslin handkerchief in the form of a funnel, at the bottom of which he found a black sediment. Having rubbed it between his fingers, he found that its smell was owing to no other cause but the sulfur which composed its substance. Hence he is of opinion that the only cause of this phenomenon was the inflammation of some of neighboring mines, whose thick smoke being condensed in the air was driven by the wind over this region.

What would our ancestors in the area have thought? Some must have been quite frightened, especially given that it appeared on Sunday morning. I’m sure the churches were full of fearful folks. Based on similar events, it seems that fires to the north and west might well have caused this phenomenon, although the good doctor suggested mines.

Sulphur typically comes from underground, not from fires. Iceland experienced massive volcanic eruptions between 1783-1785, but the worst occurred in 1783/1784.

At 17 years old, was Honoré excited? How did he feel? Was it interpreted as some type of epiphany or Biblical omen?

Tragedy

Tragedy struck when Honoré’s mother died in May of 1788. He was a young man of only about 22 years old, and he had younger siblings who needed care.

Par François Charette — Travail personnel, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=28573042

HIs mother was buried in the cemetery beside the church at Blairfindie.

Marriage

Honoré Lord was of age to marry. His marriage with Marie LaFaille, daughter of Francois Lafaille and Marguerite DeForest is recorded in the church records at Ste. Marguerite de Blairfindie on August 10, 1789. They obviously attended this same church as did a number of Acadian families.

Place of Worship or Institution: Ste-Marguerite-de-Blairfindie
Quebec, Vital and Church Records (Drouin Collection), 1621-1967 about Honoré Lord
Name: Honoré Lord
Spouse: Marie Lafay
Event: Mariage (Marriage)
Marriage Year: 1789
Marriage Location: L`Acadie, Québec (Quebec)
Place of Worship or Institution: Ste-Marguerite-de-Blairfindie

Marie had been baptized as an adult on January 6, 1789, in Ste-Marguerite-de-Blairfindie, l’Acadie, St-Jean, Quebec, along with two of her sisters.

Honoré’s Father Remarries 

Here’s where things get a bit, well, strange.

Honoré’s father remarried after waiting a respectable amount of time. That was to be expected, of course. He was only 46 when his wife died, leaving him with several children to raise. A lot of responsibility probably fell to Honore Jr., since he was the eldest. The neighbors would have helped as much as they could, too.

Honoré Jr. was probably quite relieved that his father was remarrying, although given that his new step-mother was about 6 years younger than he was, it might have been a bit…odd.

But that’s not the only thing.

On January 11, 1790, Honoré’s father married Susanne Fafaille, thirty years his junior, born in 1772, the daughter of Francoise Lafaille and Marguerite DeForest.

If you think you recognized those names and just scrolled back to see if you saw them a minute ago – why yes, you did.

Click any image to enlarge

Yes, Honoré Lord Sr. married the younger sister of his son’s wife.

Think about that for a minute. It’s OK. I had to. It’s technically alright, because Honoré Lord Sr. is not related to Susanne LaFaille, his new wife, except by virtue of the fact that his son is married to her sister. So, Honoré Sr. married his daughter-in-law’s sister – except doesn’t daughter-in-law technically mean daughter by law? In the Catholic faith, consanguinity is (generally) rooted in blood relation, so no consanguinity, and therefore no dispensation is needed.

Still, it’s a bit strange.

I can’t help but hear the refrain from “I Am My Own Grandpa.” In this case, Honoré Lord Jr. became the step-son of his father’s second wife, Susanne Lafaille, and was her brother-in-law as well.

(Scratches head…)

Said the other way, Susanne is Honoré Jr.’s step-mother and his sister-in-law, both.

Their children were Honoré Lord Jr.’s half-siblings and also his nieces and nephews.

Honoré’s father and Susanne had 7 children, two of whom died young, one not long before Susanne’s death in August of 1803. Whatever took their month old baby that July probably took Susanne a month or so later. The grief would have been palpable.

The baptisms of their two youngest children, along with the burials took place at St. Luc’s church and cemetery.

The summer of 1803 must have been just devastating.

The family would have walked outside of the church following the funeral mass into the cemetery, at the rear of the church.

Twice, just a few weeks apart.

It was here that Honoré Lord Sr. would be laid to rest in 1818 as well.

1825 Census

Of course, Honoré Lord and Marie LaFaille began a family right away following their 1789 marriage.

Honoré Laure is listed with 8 inhabitants in the 1825 census of Lower Canada, in Blairfindie, Huntingdon, Quebec, Canada. He would have been 57 years old.

Lord, Honoré 1825

  • 1 family member 14-18
  • 2- single males 18 and not 25
  • 1- married male 18 and not 25 (where is his spouse?)
  • 1- married male 40 and not yet 60 (Honoré himself)
  • 2 – female single 14 and not 45
  • 1 – female married 45 and upwards (Marie)

Honore’s Death

Honoré died at age 66, his birth given as 1768, and was buried on April 5, 1834 at Ste. Marguerite de Blairfindie in L’Acadie.

This pretty much lays to rest the 1766 birth year and confirms that his birth took place shortly before his baptism, given that he was baptized on February 28th. Typically, only a day or two, if that, elapsed. The parents would have wanted that baby baptized as soon as possible – just in case.

Honoré would have been laid to rest near his mother at Blairfindie.

After his mother’s death and his father’s second wife’s death, he and his third wife had continued attending St. Luc where their children were baptized. Honore Jr. stayed in the church where he was raised, where his mother would have been silently at his side. Lord knows, he was going to need her strength soon enough.

St. Luc and Ste Marguerite de Blairfinder weren’t far apart. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that the family lived someplace near half-way between.

Perhaps records exist, someplace, that would shed additional light on that question. I’m not a fluent French-speaker, nor do I understand the early land system well in Quebec. I may just have to learn! I would truly like to find his land. and determine where they lived.

I might just feel a trip to Acadia coming on.

Legacy

Honoré Lord (Laur, Lore, and other spellings) and Marie Lafaille (Lafay) had a record 17 children in roughly 20 years, including at least two sets of twins, but, contrary to how circumstances might appear – their marriage was anything but idyllic.

In fact, those circumstances just might explain why their son, Antoine Lore chose to leave home as soon as he was able, sailed down the Richelieu River, across Lake Champlain, and never looked back.

Stay tuned.

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The Secrets Hidden in Mother’s Lifetime Social Security Earnings Report – 52 Ancestors #392

Back in September 2022, I ordered a Social Security lifetime earnings record for my mother by filing form SSA-7050, available here. In addition to wages, it also lists employers which would tell me where she was working.

This form is available for living individuals – meaning you can order your own – or for deceased people under specific circumstances if you are:

  • The legal representative of the earner’s estate
  • A survivor
  • An individual with a material interest (as defined on the form)

I ordered the information for both of my parents, but so far, only my mother’s has been delivered.

I provided a credit card number, and it was charged in December. The printed information arrived in March.

My credit card hasn’t been charged for my father’s report. I’m still hopeful, but I’m thinking I need to send a follow-up letter.

Social Security

Social Security was designed to provide a safety net for retirees and has been expanded at various times to include surviving spouses, children under some circumstances, and people with disabilities.

The Social Security Act was passed in 1935, cards issued in 1936 and Social Security benefits began being issued in 1937. The first lump sum payout was 17 cents.

Widows and widowers, meaning surviving spouses are sometimes eligible for benefits, as were self-employed people beginning in 1951.

Social Security benefits, who can receive them, under which circumstances, and when has changed over the years. Medicare was added in 1965. You can read about the history here, which may help you determine whether or not there might be a benefit to ordering this information for a deceased relative.

Cash and Cashless Economy

Recall that the Great Depression occurred between 1929 and 1939 in the US. Poverty was unrelenting, and nearly every family was negatively affected.

My family was only one of many. In fact, they were probably in the majority. My maternal grandfather, John Ferverda, lost his hardware store and was unemployed. The family raised chickens and either sold, traded or bartered poultry and eggs for other goods. My mother said she passionately hated cleaning chickens because she cleaned so many as a child.

Few people actually had money, so a lot of exchanges occurred.

In a rural economy, farm workers worked for cash or goods, much like today’s “gig-workers”. Mom taught dance lessons as a teen and young adult, but she wasn’t employed by a company. Cash changed hands or maybe some labor or vegetables.

Mom graduated from High School in 1940, but I didn’t know when Mom actually had a “job” that would have been recorded as such.

I know now.

Requested Records

I requested mother’s wage records from 1937, the beginning of wages being reported to Social Security, though her death in 2006. Nearly 70 years.

I clearly knew about much of her employment, but not the early years.

In particular, I can’t find Mom in the 1950 census. She was living in Florida in 1949 and early 1950. I’ve struggled to discover much of anything about that time in her life, except, well, that she married a circus performer. Then he divorced her. She returned home, to Indiana, probably during the time that the census was being taken.

But I have questions. So many questions.

  • Did she work in Florida?
  • What about before that?
  • Was she employed by a company when she danced in Chicago, or was she self-employed?
  • Did she work more than one job?
  • Where did she work?
  • For how long?
  • How much money did she make?

Needless to say, I was VERY excited when this envelope FINALLY arrived.

And wow, are there ever some very interesting surprises.

Where was Mom?

Mother, like many females in the early 1940s, married not long after she graduated from high school. It was expected.

Her husband, Dan, joined the Army during WWII and marched off to war.

In 1943, my brother was born. When Dan returned home on leave, it wasn’t to Mom, but to a girlfriend. In fact, Mom didn’t even know he was home on leave. My grandfather quite accidentally ran into Dan and his lady-friend. So had others. It was a small town and everyone, but everyone knew within hours.

For Mom, that devastating, humiliating episode was both an end and a beginning – even if it was a beginning she didn’t want.

Mother realized that she was not going to be a housewife, at least not to Dan, and she was going to be that much-dreaded horrible D word – divorced. Along with that in small town Indiana came incredible stigma. So Mom did the only thing she could do – sought work as a professional tap and ballet dancer – her only marketable skill. After all, now she had a son to support and $4 per week child support that Dan was ordered to pay wasn’t going to do it.

Mom’s official employment began in 1944 and thus began her first official career, although she had been dancing and teaching both tap and ballet for at least a dozen years. Both before and after she graduated, Mom taught at a dance school in Fort Wayne and also privately. I suspect she taught in exchange for her own lessons.

Unfortunately, the dancing photos of Mom during her teen years don’t include any recitals, only practice photos taken by my grandmother in the yard.

In the small town of Silver Lake, there was no job opportunities in 1944, especially not for a dancer, so Mom had to leave my brother with her parents and go to Chicago where she could find employment in the theater business. She returned home as often as she could, and a significant portion of her pay was sent to my grandparents for John.

This was a cascade of heartbreaking events for mother, on many levels, catapulting her into an unwelcome future – one she never sought nor wanted.

1944 – Chicago

The first entry in Mom’s social security earnings record appeared in 1944 with the employer listed as the Theater Service Corporation, 175 N. State, Chicago, Illinois. Earnings were listed by quarter. Her social security record also reveals that her card was initially issued in Illinois, so she had no Social Security wages reported before this time.

  • 1st QTR – 262.50
  • 2nd QTR – 238.75

I knew that Mom had performed in Chicago with the Dorothy Hild Dancers at the Edgewater Beach Hotel.

However, based on this address – the 1944 income was not at the Edgewater Beach, but at the Chicago Theater which is located at 175 N. State.

That’s an entirely different venue.

I had no idea. What can I discover about the Chicago Theatre?

By Daniel Schwen – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=7429653

The Chicago Theater still stands downtown in the Loop today.

By Cushman, Charles Weever, 1896-1972 IMLS Digital Collections & Content – North State St. Chicago View source image or order reproductions. Part of Charles W. Cushman Collection Indiana University, Bloomington. University Archives. Brought to you by IMLS Digital Collections and Content., CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=52779744

In 1944, the 7-story Chicago Theater’s sign was painted grey. Mom would have stood right here, in front. I believe I see a bus and trolley too, in addition to the trucks in front of Walgreen Drugs. Chicago was a world apart from Silver Lake, Indiana. I know she had studied and performed in Philadelphia with a prima ballerina at one time, but this must have been different yet. She was going to live and perform here, in a hopping metropolis, not visit to study and then return home to Indiana.

Chicago was now home, and she was performing in this magnificent theater – the best of the best.

When I realized exactly what I was seeing, my jaw dropped. The Chicago Theater was built and billed as “The Wonder Theater of the World,” a reputation it lived up to. Step inside the theater and be transported to Paris.

By Jrissman, Murals by Louis Grell (1887-1960). – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=9070612

The stunning interior with its gorgeous murals is the same today as it was when mother performed under those chandelier lights to a capacity crowd of 5000 people. A 50-piece orchestra accompanied the live stage shows. Orson Welles exclaimed of the performance, including the Wurlitzer organ; “Oh, yes, it was mighty.” Sometimes mounted police were required for crowd control.

This must have seemed utterly surreal to mother. Did she have to pinch herself? From embarrassed and humiliated as the undesirable wife in Indiana – to this?

The plush environment, private boxes and very early air conditioning attracted wealthy patrons for live performances and early movies.

The five-story lobby and mezzanine, reached by the magnificent grand staircase is patterned after the Royal Palace at Versailles and the Paris Opera House. The crystal chandeliers and light fixtures were fitted with Steuben shades.

You can see the absolutely stunning interior, here and here. Old world opulence is the word that comes to mind.

Mom had been dancing and performing for more than a decade and had a voice coach in Chicago.

It was here, in this stunning 5-story theatre than that mother’s crystal-clear, angelic voice resonated, filling the chamber, with her dancing shoes tap-tapping across the stage to the sheer delight of patrons.

It was here that mother came into her own – her potential just beginning to be realized.

The stars must have glimmered in her eyes, brighter than the heavens. The hometown girl whose husband abandoned her for the girl next door had made it big in one of the most beautiful and renowned theaters, if not THE most beautiful theater in the world. As painful as Silver Lake was, here she was a beautiful star, shining brilliantly under the stage lights. Only she knew the heartache she left behind. Left behind on the surface anyway.

By Raymon Sutedjo-The – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=21418649

Mom walked through these doors for daily practices and nightly performances.

In the excitement of my discovery, I almost forgot about Mom’s pay. Yes, she was paid. If she worked a 40-hour week, and we all know that show business is never just a 40-hour week, she would have worked about 13 weeks in each quarter, or about 520 hours. In the first quarter, she made about 50 cents an hour.

Mom was paid better than average given that minimum wage in 1944 was thirty cents an hour, or equivalent to $5.12 in 2023. Ok, so maybe she wasn’t so well paid. Certainly, no place near a living wage today.

And much of that was sent back to Indiana.

1945

The third and fourth quarter of 1944, and the first and second quarters of 1945, plus part of the third quarter – Mom worked at the Edgewater Beach Hotel.

This was when she was performing with the Dorothy Hild Dancers. Mom is middle row, far right.

Of course, I can’t ask Mom why she changed jobs, but I bet I have a clue. Not only was Mom paid better, but she got to live at the Edgewater Beach hotel as part of her compensation package.

The photos in this article show the crowds at the Edgewater Beach Hotel in 1944, a very posh destination location. Mom opened for Bing Crosby and other famous big bands such as Benny Goodman and Tommy Dorsey who played in the ballroom regularly. I think she has a photo someplace with Wayne King, although I had no idea who he was.

This video was shot in the fall of 1944 at the Edgewater Beach hotel. I can just see Mom there. In fact, she may have been there at this time.

I recognize those stair balusters.

It was here that mother fell in love again in 1944 with Frank Sadowski, the brother of one of the Dorothy Hild dancers.

Indeed. I can watch that video, then close my eyes and see Mother and Frank, her sweetheart, before he was killed in April of 1945.

It’s like I can see life through Mom’s eyes for a few minutes.

Frolicking on the beach, then beautifully dressed and out on the town. Life was good again, and her heartache healed. Frank was an amazing man, studying to be a doctor, which is how he served in the Army.

Everything was going to be alright. They would marry after he got out the service. John, my brother, would come and live with them in Chicago. Life was wonderful and the future was bright, filled with hope and optimism.

That is, until that bubble suddenly burst with a bullet.

Mom made twice as much money at the Edgewater Beach. The first two quarters, she made a total of $396 each quarter. In the first two quarters of 1945, she made $468 each. It’s no wonder she changed employers. Now, she was up to 90 cents an hour plus her room.

Mom worked at the Edgewater Beach Hotel for the first two weeks of the third quarter, which would have been July of 1945. It was probably beastly hot and after Frank’s death, mother was not OK. I’m sure the very last thing she felt like doing was plastering what was assuredly, at that point, a fake smile on her face and performing nightly.

During this time, she also lost an incredible about of weight, and in most photos, appeared incredibly sad.

I’m actually surprised Mom didn’t go back home, but perhaps she realized there was absolutely nothing to go back to.

1945-1950

I have no employment record for mother from June of 1945 until the second quarter of 1950.

A record recently popped up on MyHeritage showing that in May of 1950, she applied for a replacement Social Security card.

I can, in mind’s eye, imagine her frantically digging through her belongings to find that missing card. Where was it? Or, had she perhaps left Florida in a hurry in the spring of 1950, packing only a bag?

A LOT changed in her life between 1945 and 1950.

I know Mom was performing in various theaters and clubs, traveling across the country on tour.

She amassed a suitcase full of scrapbooks that included newspaper clippings of her performances during this time.

She met my father on a train from Philadelphia, where she was appearing, to Chicago.

Mom broke her foot dancing in Cairo, Illinois as reported on October 18, 1947 in the Kosciusko County, Indiana newspaper, stating that her parents were going to retrieve her.

This was effectively the end of Mom’s theater career. A broken foot is a literal show-stopper for a dancer. Mom needed to reconsider and regroup.

Remember that most performers were self-employed, meaning that no one issued them a paycheck. Until 1951, self-employed people couldn’t pay into social security, so there would not have been a record.

Mom’s professional dancing career only lasted four and a half years, if you count from she went to Chicago. She began dancing as a child to strengthen her heart after Rheumatic Fever, and began teaching when she was 15 or 16.

She was just two months shy of 25 when she broke her foot.

1949

Mom knew this chapter of her life was finished. On June 1st, 1949, she withdrew from the American Guild of Variety Artists.

In April 1949, Mom married in Florida and eleven months later, in March of 1950, she found herself divorced.

Not by her choosing, but she had discovered that things weren’t what they seemed or how they had been represented.

I was hoping Mom’s social security and employer history might lend a clue to the year she spent in Florida, but it did not.

This time, when she packed her bags and left Florida, she did go home, or at least near to home and found a job relatively quickly.

1950-1952

In 1950, Mom worked for the last three weeks of the second quarter, so the final three weeks of June, at the Lerner Department Store in Fort Wayne, Indiana for 80 cents an hour. Minimum wage was 75 cents.

Mom did well for herself. She earned $580 in the last quarter of 1951, or $1.12 per hour which provided enough income for Mom to rent a room in this cute yellow house at 534 Meyer and send money home to care for John who was 7 or 8 years old by this time.

I’m uncertain where the Lerner Store was located, but it was probably downtown. This video shows a drive through downtown Fort Wayne in the 1950s and is much like what mother would have seen.

Mom apparently worked part time during the first two quarters of 1952. According to the Fort Wayne City Directory, she was a saleswoman in 1951, but had been promoted to assistant manager in 1952. In the third quarter, she made $602, but was back to $580 in the fourth quarter. She worked at Lerner Shops in January of 1953, then was gone.

1952

In 1952 when Mom was working part-time for Lerner Shops, it appears that she was also working part time for the Wayne Knitting Mills, located at 641 Knitters Avenue in Fort Wayne. She worked there parts of both the first and second quarters of 1952.

The Wayne Knitting Mills, a massive complex, was America’s largest producer of silk hosiery during the time when mother would have been employed there.

Women sat in row upon row, sewing, morning until night, as shown in the photo, here. The facility included a dorm at one time which might have served as an enticement.

That work must have been both backbreaking, sitting hunched over for hours, and mind-numbing, especially for someone used to being physically active. She didn’t last long there, but probably longer than I would have.

1953

In February of 1953, Mom made a big move, beginning her second career. Her lifelong dream had always been to be a bookkeeper, not a dancer and not working in a department store or knitting mill. By this time, she was 13 years out of high school.

Mom never trained as a bookkeeper because her parents didn’t believe in spending money on education for a female – a common sentiment for the time. They had paid for mother’s brother to go to college, including a master’s degree.

My brother once told me that as a child, he and my grandparents had gone to visit my mother when she worked at that “home place” in Lafayette, Indiana, in the office.

Mother had never mentioned this during her lifetime, so I asked “What home place?” John explained that Mom worked in the office for a huge company that made houses. I couldn’t imagine what he was talking about, but here we are!

Indeed, Mom worked for National Homes Acceptance Corporation. Their last address was out of Dallas, TX, but she worked for their initial plant in Lafayette.

National Homes Acceptance Corporation was incorporated in 1952.

Imagine my amazement to discover that at one point in my early adult life, I had lived in this very home, identical to the one above – except the one I lived in was reversed left to right from the model and was painted red at that time.

Entire neighborhoods and subdivisions were constructed quickly. More than 70 years later, many of these homes are still in good condition.

National Homes were inexpensive, solid, and very popular with GIs returning from the service and starting a family. The homes were built in pieces in the factory, then loaded on railroad cars and trucks and assembled on site – reducing the construction time from weeks or months to days.

One of the keys, of course, was a reliable, repeatable pattern that was reproduced thousands of times.

Entire communities of these homes sprang up overnight across the country.

Mom worked in the home office. National Homes were manufactured in several locations in Lafayette, so finding the location of the offices was challenging. The mailing address was Earl Avenue at Wallace Street.

This building stands at that intersection today, and it looks like it might be old enough to have been the National Homes office building.

There’s also a lot of vacant space at this intersection. The train tracks run behind the parking lot, so at one point, there was obviously shipping that occurred from this location.

Today’s Wabash National Corporation produces semi-trailers and began as National Home Corporation. It’s located on Sagamore Parkway, shown above.

If you zoom out a bit, you can see that this entire area, on both sides of the railroad track were and are heavily industrialized. Warehouses at 1000 Sagamore Parkway, now Wabash National, cover most of that block and the next. The Earl and Wallace address (red pin) where Mom worked is just a block down and over – about half a mile.

Mom worked at National Homes from mid-January in 1953 until about the end of January in 1954, making $1.05 per hour.

Soon, however, she moved and got a substantial raise with a new employer.

1954-1955

In 1954, Mother moved back to Chicago where her employer is listed as Sidney Friedman & Meyer S. Smith etal Ptr Sidney Friedman Gen Ptr Cap Wine and Liq Regency Zimco at 2518 W. Coyle Avenue, Chicago where she made $1.58 per hour. Minimum wage was still 75 cents per hour. Mom was making the equivalent of $14.50 in today’s dollars.

I wish I knew why she left Lafayette. I’m sure the cost of living in Chicago was significantly higher.

It was during this time that Mom rented a room from a woman in Chicago that she called Mommie McKenzie, pictured above. McKenzie was a widow that rented rooms in her home to single women who needed some combination of safety and companionship.

Additionally, living with an older widow woman probably removed some of the stigma of being single, or worse yet, divorced, in a big city.

Mother’s employer’s address resolves to a residence although that only means it’s the last address of record for this company. It doesn’t mean that’s the address when she worked there, or that’s physically where she worked.

2518 W. Coyle is this rather large home built in 1931. Today, it houses the Michael Teolis Singers. Who knows, maybe the earlier owners were involved in the entertainment industry too. Based on the company name, in 1954 it seemed to have something to do with wine and liquor sales.

At first, I thought this property might have been located in close proximity to my father who lived at 1827 West Cermak in the 1950 census, or his mother who lived at 317 South Laflin, but it was quite distant, about 18 miles.

It was much closer to the Edgewater Beach Hotel, about 3 miles, and was clearly in a clean, lovely little neighborhood that was familiar.

Sidney Friedman, a lawyer, lived at this location along with his family from 1993-1997 according to the US Phone Directories. He was clearly living here or was somehow associated with this property in the 1950s. I don’t know, but I’d wager a guess that Mom was keeping the books for his company that just happened to have his home listed as it’s headquarters, at least when the Social Security Administration last had an address.

In the first quarter of 1955, Mom was making $1.66 per hour. She worked through most of June in 1955 when she left that job because she was pregnant.

In 1955, there were no provisions for either health insurance or maternity leave. I’m actually surprised she was permitted to work through the end of June when she would definitely have been showing.

Mom told me that she worked part-time for a department store in downtown Chicago, dressing mannequins, but there’s no record in her social security earnings. It could have been cash, or perhaps Sidney Friedman’s company was somehow tied to that.

I tend to think Friedman’s company was linked to the entertainment industry though, based on the “Wine and Liq” portion of the company name, and Mom was probably doing the bookkeeping for him. I wish I could ask her.

During this time, mother was also helping care for my paternal grandmother, Ollie Bolton, who died that April.

1955-1956

The next 2 years, July of 1955 through the spring of 1957 were consumed by a baby, diapers and moving, at least twice.

In November 1956, my father was involved in a near-fatal accident in Kokomo, Indiana that landed him in intensive care for several weeks.

The police came to get Mom and took us to the hospital. Apparently, the staff at the hospital also notified his wife. Trouble was, it was a different wife who lived in Chicago.

A few hours later at the hospital, as my mother sat bedside with her comatose husband, another woman walked in, also carrying a baby, and said she was looking for her husband. My father was in an oxygen tent that was cloudy, the light was off, plus the curtain was pulled. They didn’t think he would live.

The woman walked out, then back in again, quite confused. Her husband didn’t seem to be in either bed. Mom asked her husband’s name, and she replied, “Bill Estes.”

“That’s my husband,” Mom uttered in shocked disbelief.

Two life-altering sucker-punches in one day. Two wives. Two babies. One critically injured husband.

The two women sat side by side – probably more like collapsed – beside his bed, with their babies and shared information. Lots of information. Rivers of tears and red-hot anger directed towards that unconscious man that they were both grieving. Did they ever share – likely more than either woman really wanted to know.

It’s probably a good thing he was unconscious. I can’t help but wonder what he thought when he woke up. Did he think he was having a nightmare? Maybe he wished he had died. Maybe they did too.

The other baby was my brother, Dave, 4 months older than me. While Ellen was incensed at my father for cheating with my mother, years later, DNA would show that my father was not David’s biological father, so my father wasn’t the only unfaithful party. Not that that’s any justification.

Mother was utterly devastated. What was she to do?

Dad recovered, but Mom did not allow him to come “home” to her. He went back to Ellen’s house in Chicago.

Mother apparently managed to get through the winter somehow – and without going back home to Silver Lake in utter humiliation. I’d wager she was miserable.

My mother is one of the bravest women I’ve ever known.

1957

About the middle of May in 1957, Mom began working for Mid States Electric Supply, an electrical parts supplier, as a bookkeeper. She was surprised that anyone would hire a single woman with a child. Not only was there a lot of stigma attached, even without “the rest of the story,” but also there was concern about “who would watch the baby?”

In addition to rent, food, utilities, clothing and a car, now Mom also had to pay a babysitter. She was still sending money to her parents for John, too. I’ve often thought that mother’s life would have been so much simpler if she had placed me for adoption. My heart still aches for her.

The building in Kokomo where Mother first worked for Mid States still stands at the corner of Monroe and Union. Her office was located inside the window to the far left in the photo. I remember her grey desk with its metal chair and sometimes getting to lick the envelope seals and stamps when she sent invoices.

At $1.13 an hour, her starting wages were less than she had made in Chicago, but more than 1953 in Lafayette, Indiana. However, she worked a minimum of 44 hours a week, because the store was open on Saturday morning. She didn’t mind though, because we needed that extra money to make ends meet. I remember Mom saying it paid for the groceries, and we never had anything “extra.”

Minimum wage was $1.00 an hour.

A few years later, Mid States moved to 309 E. Deffenbaugh Street, a more industrial area located a block or so from the Delco plant that purchased a large number of parts. The business had also expanded into consumer lighting, sporting a showroom and lighting consultant.

Mom worked most of April in 1957 and continued to work for Mid States for 14 years, until it was sold to Universal Electric in 1971. The office remained in the same location. The Kokomo office, warehouse and showroom simply joined a larger business.

In the 1970s, I began going to work with Mom on Saturday mornings to do filing, type invoices and earn some spending money. I was paid out of the till, plus a nice cold Coke from the chest type Coke machine. Was that ever good! I enjoyed working for Mom and felt like I was contributing something useful.

1971-1972

Mom had no wages reported for the first two quarters of 1971, but I’m absolutely positive she was working. I suspect a glitch in the reporting following the sale to Universal Electric. I know Mom did some side-work during this time, transcribing records and writing letters for a local attorney. She had taken shorthand and was concerned about losing her job. She was obviously paid cash, because that doesn’t show in her wage record.

Mom was making the same amount that she was paid at Mid States, except she sometimes didn’t reliably receive as much overtime. By 1972, she was making $2.50 an hour. Minimum wage was $1.60 an hour. Mom not only ran the office and had for almost 20 years, she essentially ran the business.

1972-1975

Mom worked for Universal Electric until the fall of 1972.

Not only did Mom change jobs, she got married that same month. Her good nature was being taken advantage of at Universal. Her employer knew she was single and relatively desperate for a job. That changed when she married. Dad, my step-father, encouraged her to quit and find work, if she wanted, with someone who appreciated her. She did just that.

Mom worked for Kokomo Land Company, a builder and land developer, through part of 1975, beginning either right before or right after the wedding. She actually didn’t make as much money in total, but I don’t think she had to work on Saturday which was a relief. She had worked six days a week for 16 years. By the end of 1974, her quarterly wage was $1575, almost exactly what she made at Universal Electric.

At that time, the Kokomo Land Office occupied the majority of the center portion of Forest Park Shopping Plaza. I remember meeting Mom at the Dairy Queen, at the left end, for lunch.

In 1975, she worked for the first quarter for another company, Raymond G. Murkowski out of Athens, Wisconsin. That’s interesting, because she went back to Kokomo Land briefly for part of the second and fourth quarters, probably working part-time. I vaguely remember something about oil speculation in Texas at Kokomo Land Company, but I’m not at all sure that’s connected.

Ironically, although I was an adult in 1975 and close to my mother, I have no idea who Raymond Murkowski is. She never went to Wisconsin, so I have to wonder if he was somehow involved with Kokomo Land Company.

In the last two full quarters that Mom worked in 1974 and 1975, assuming she only worked 40 hours each week, she made $2.93 and $2.58 per hour, respectively. The minimum wage was $2.00 in 1974, or equivalent to about $12.20 today and $2.10 in 1975, or about $12.01 today.

Mom’s retirement was rather unexpected, although not unwelcome, brought about by a health issue. She was becoming increasingly disenchanted with Kokomo Land and the owner, and the business was encountering financial issues. She was relieved to bow out.

Mom’s bookkeeping career spanned 22 years, 1953 to 1975.

1978-2004

Surgery fixed Mom’s health issue, but retirement didn’t agree with her, so in 1978, Mom began her third and final career as an Avon Representative. That gave her life a sense of purpose again, but not because of the sales.

Her Avon business was more of a mission than a job. She visited those in need, shut-ins, listened, helped, took food and more, all under the guise of delivering an Avon order or stopping by to see if someone wanted to look at the Avon book and place an order. She gave far more away than she ever made, and that’s not counting gas, wear and tear on the car, or her time.

Her Avon income was reported as self-employment through 2005 – a total of 26 years.

For the entire year of 1974, at Kokomo Land, she made $5,835. In 1978 and 1979, her first two Avon years, she made about $650 each year.

Her best sales year was 1987 when she made $6229. But that wasn’t her highest accomplishment.

In 1988, at the Avon President’s Club dinner Mom was nominated for and received the Spirit of Avon Award. This award is not earned with sales or through recruiting, but living by example. If I recall correctly, only one award was given per district, per year.

For three years during that time, 1983-1985, Avon paid Mom small amounts directly. $45, $180 and $15 respectively. I’m guessing she helped with training or something similar, but I really have no idea. She was always stepping up, going above and beyond. That’s just who she was.

In 1992, Dad and Aunt Verma (left) accompanied Mom to a dinner honoring Avon President’s Club Members. President’s Club membership was based on sales, not profit. Her 1991 sales were $4071.

Presidents Club members received Albie figurines. Not my cup of tea, but Mom cherished the Albies because of their significance. She was incredibly proud of those accomplishments, even though she was far too demure to ever say anything.

Trust me, Mom made sales and reported income, but she assuredly lost money every year. Working was no longer about pay, but service, charity and companionship.

Being an Avon Lady was her legacy.

Mom was absolutely determined to complete her 25th year with Avon, and she did. The photo above was taken by a customer on her last day. She was 82 years old.

Mom’s driving skills were deteriorating, and although we knew she would miss the people and her customers, it was time for Mom to retire for the third time.

When she retired, her friends, family and many customers surprised her with a party in the summer of 2005.

Mom was utterly thrilled – just joyful. She worried about who would take care of her customers – not take their orders – take care of them.

Then, she was gone the next spring.

I still have and use her Avon sample bag that she carried for so many years. She goes with me every time I transport a care quilt to be quilted, and often when I deliver the finished quilt to the recipient.

Just a small way to continue her legacy of service. Mom accompanies me.

Hendrickson Distributing

Mom had one additional employer that I had forgotten about that made me smile.

In 1979 and 1980, I was working for Hendrickson Distributing as the IT director. Hendrickson Distributing was a farm distributor, building grain bins and silos. We were converting from one computer system to another, plus implementing an inventory management system, and I needed part-time assistance with data entry.

I asked Mom if she could help out, and she agreed. I knew she would be dependable and produce accurate work. Mom was a stickler for precision, thanks to all those years of bookkeeping, and fully understood the need for accuracy.

Until I saw her wage report, I had nearly forgotten about those months that Mom actually worked for me.

The Hendrickson’s office, now a car lot, was a glorified pole barn. The computer room which doubled as our office was located between the picture window and the first garage door, near that red car. The office was small, maybe 12X12, and there were either three or four of us typing away. The good news – because of the computer equipment, the office was air conditioned. The rest of the offices and warehouse facilities were not.

We walked across the street to the lunch counter at the drug store to eat or drove the couple blocks to the only little Mom and Pop restaurant in the small town of Russiaville, Indiana, neither of which exist anymore.

I hadn’t realized until we worked together at Hendrickson’s that Mom and I almost never had any time together, just the two of us.

This photo, taken in 1988 at an Embroiderers’ Guild awards banquet in Louisville, KY is a rare exception.

Our lives revolved around family. Between husbands, siblings, children, farms, pets, jobs, Avon, church and in my case, college, we were both always extremely busy.

I remember those days at Hendrickson fondly now, with a soft smile and perhaps a tear or two.

I’m so grateful for those few months of working side by side, closely together. I didn’t know it at the time, but my life would change dramatically in the fall of 1980, just a few months later. This time, it would be me that changed jobs and moved away.

Yes, indeed, ordering mother’s Social Security wage statements was well worth the effort. Not only did I discover things about mother’s life that I never knew, and never could have known any other way, I also got a complimentary trip down memory lane.

Mom worked for nearly seven decades, but what was her legacy?

Legacy

Mom’s legacy, beyond Avon and her service there, was the inspiration and encouragement she infused into people around her. Mom was in many ways, contagious. She had quietly succeeded at pretty much everything she set her mind to, in spite of what seemed like dauntingly impossible circumstances.

After her death, I found these “10 Commandments” in her effects. They explain a lot. If you’re wondering about why there are only 9 – she apparently typed 9 and 10 together as one. #10 begins with “Survive in order to thrive.”

Maybe she just wanted to see if we were paying attention:)

Stars Over Broadway

It seems my mother was constantly conflicted between feeling she needed to conform to oppressive expectations, and the glorious freedom of reaching for the stars, literally, despite all odds.

She was a tenacious woman of many talents.

In addition to her paying jobs in three professions for nearly 70 years, she was a master crochet artist.

Mom had literally boxes and boxes of ribbons, People’s Choice, and Best of Show Rosettes from fairs and exhibits of different types across the country.

Every family member received cozy afghans, intricate heirloom shawls and beautiful Christmas ornaments, often with ribbons attached.

I designed and made Mom a quilt that I named Stars Over Broadway, using her ribbons symbolically mixed with a few of mine – subtly suggesting that indeed, Mom deserved her own Hollywood Star.

Not only for her dancing prowess, but all of her lifetime achievements. Mom was much too humble to share her accomplishments, except maybe for a ribbon or two at fair time. I hoped that this metaphoric quilt, which she hung prominently, would remind her every day how much she had accomplished, how valued she was to us, and that we recognized and were oh-so-very-proud of her achievements.

She didn’t have to be embarrassed by the recognition, because no one outside the family would ever know the real meaning unless she told them.

Mom was my inspiration, by example, even though I often didn’t realize it at the time.

These ribbon stars are touching at the points, essentially holding hands, representing the women who came before us, those of us who lived when she did and were part of the sacred circle, and those who will follow, joined through time. An infinity loop of sorts – always connected. Reaching out, holding hands, dancing in circles, sharing energy, bonded forever.

Just dance.

_____________________________________________________________

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Who is Peter Johnson’s Ancestor – Peter Jochimsson (Yocum) or Mathias Jönsson alias Hutt? Or Neither? – 52 Ancestors #391

Peter Johnson (c1720-1790) is making me crazy. To refresh your memory, Peter’s early life, including his parents, are shrouded in mystery. I wrote about him here and here. My ancestor is Dorcas Johnson who married Jacob Dobkins. I strongly believe Dorcas to be Peter Johnson’s daughter, for a myriad of reasons, supported by evidence of various types, including paper-trail and genetic, but I’m still seeking that elusive nail in the coffin – pardon the pun. I wrote about Dorcas here and here.

I’m comfortable with assigning Peter Johnson as Dorcas’s father, although I’d love just one conclusive piece of proof. However, Peter’s parents are another matter entirely and one very tough nut.

I’ve been digging like a dog with a bone, and so far, I’ve unearthed conflicting evidence. So now I have two bones and no idea which one is accurate. Wasn’t counting on that – but it sure makes for an interesting article!

I did, however, discover an absolutely WONDERFUL book in Salt Lake City recently. My husband scanned the entire book for me. Let’s start with the 1693 Census of the Swedes on the Delaware.

1693 Census of the Swedes on the Delaware

According to the 1693 Census of the Swedes on the Delaware authored in 1993 and published by Peter Stebbins Craig, J.D., between 1637 and 1655, Sweden equipped thirteen passenger voyages for the South Delaware River, with about 800 prospective settlers. Eleven ships with 600 passengers actually arrived.

The first ship deposited 24 men at Fort Christina, now Wilmington, Delaware. The second and third expeditions brought families. In 1644, Sweden and Denmark were at war, so immigration was suspended until 1647.

In 1651, the Dutch erected a fortified town and fort Casimir at present day New Castle, and the Swedes were disgusted. Several returned to Sweden and others left for neighboring Maryland.

In 1653, 22 Swedes presented a petition to the Swedish Governor Johan Printz, complaining of his aristocratic rule. One Peeter Jochim and one Claes Johansson were among the petitioners. The descendants of Claes, according to Peter Craig, use the Johnson surname in Pennsylvania, and Classon in Delaware and Maryland. Nothing confusing here!

Printz accused the petitioners of mutiny and returned in a huff to Sweden, but a new governor was soon dispatched, along with more settlers. Sailing into the Delaware River, the new Governor, Johan Rising, demanded that the Dutch Fort Casimir surrender – which it did because it had no gunpowder.

The Dutch at Fort Trinity (Fort Casimir, now New Castle) returned north to New Netherlands, but more Swedes moved to Maryland. You can read about Fort Trinity/Fort Casimir archaeology excavations, here.

Craig estimates that about 300 people, including wives and children, remained in New Sweden in 1655 when the Dutch governor Peter Stuyvesant sailed up the Delaware with 7 armed ships and 317 soldiers. The 50 Swedish solders were divided between two fortresses. Both Fort Trinity and Fort Christina (now Wilmington) surrendered on September 15, 1655. You can see a reconstructed Swedish village, here.

At this point, a few Swedes returned to the old country, but most remained, influenced strongly by Peter Stuyvesant’s conciliatory attitude. In a surprise move, he offered to return the colony to Governor Rising, but would retain Fort Casimir (New Castle). Governor Rising declined and left, but Stuyvesant made the same offer to the remaining settlers, offering them the opportunity to govern themselves by a court of their own choosing, continue their religion, have their own militia, continue trading with the Indians and retain their land. In return, they had to pledge loyalty to New Netherlands and Stuyvesant reserved the right to approve their officers. That seemed like a pretty good deal, all things considered, so the Swedes accepted, although they remained stubbornly independent.

Another voyage was already underway though, and in March of 1656, an additional 106 people arrived from the province of Varmland, Sweden, sailing out of Gothenburg.

The new “Swedish Nation” was formed in August 1656, with two courts. One was “Upland,” north of New Castle, and the other functioned on the other side of the Cristina River. The Delaware River was the highway and transportation was primarily by dugout canoe, exactly like the Native people. Hunting was achieved using Native paths. Some farming was undertaken, but mostly, only enough to feed families.

By 1680, life was changing for the Swedish families along the Delaware and many Englishmen were settling in the region. In 1681, William Penn received his charter for Pennsylvania, quickly followed by 23 ships from England carrying his Quaker followers. The three “lower counties” of Pennsylvania were present-day Delaware. By 1682, no longer holding a majority, the Swedish courts were no longer in session.

Penn was very complimentary of the Swedes, said they were welcoming and helpful to the English, got along very well with the Native people, and “strong of body…they have fine children, and almost every house full; rare to find one of them without 3 or 4 boys and as many girls; some six, seven and eight sons.”

By this time, given that 40+ years had elapsed since the first Swedes settled in New Sweden, the third generation was beginning – grandchildren of those original settlers were being born.

One of their English neighbors described the Swedes as ingenious, speaking English, Swedish, Finnish, Dutch and Indian. He described their efficiency, stating that one man could cut down a tree, two would quickly rend the tree into planks using only an ax and wooden wedges. No iron. The women spun linen and wove it into clothe and then made clothes. Swedish families ate rye instead of white bread.

The Swedes introduced log cabins to the colony – structures that would sustain pioneers on the ever-westward-moving frontiers for centuries to come.

The Nothnagle cabin,above, in Gibbstown, NJ, built in 1638 (attached to a 1738 structure) is reputed to be the oldest house in New Jersey.

The cabin is a few miles downstream from present-day Philadelphia, across the river from Tinicum Island, about four miles northeast of Raccoon Creek. This is important because it tell us where Swedes were living at the early date.

After William Penn obtained his charter, he cultivated the friendship of the Swedes to help his English settlers. Among others, Peter Petersson Yocum served as an interpreter, assisting Penn when purchasing land from the Indians.

Unfortunately, the Swedes had already purchased this land, as attested to by depositions from 7 “Antient Swedes” stating that they had purchased and occupied that land since 1638. Eventually, the Swedes provided Penn with the land that would become Philadelphia.

Given that Finland was part of Sweden at this time, no differentiation was made between Swedes and Finns, and both were included. Craig says that if the term Finns was used, it was specifically referring to people who spoke primarily Finnish. People who spoke primarily Swedish were not called Finns. Spelling was not standardized, but neither was it for English. This seems to be a politically challenging time in Scandinavia and results in confusion when looking back and trying to unravel New Sweden’s settlers. Additionally, patronymics, followed by the gradual adoption of surnames make both history and genealogy exceedingly difficult.

In 1693, a “census” of the Swedes was taken, thankfully, and appended to a letter. In 1693, the Swedes were still living below the fall line. In later years, they would settle in tracts granted to them by Penn in Upper Merions Township in Montgomery County, PA and Manatawny, present day Amity Township in Berks County.

Some Swedes settled at Sahakitko, a trading center for the Susquehanna (Minquas) Indians located at the head of the Elk River, now Elkton, Maryland. These traders traveled extensively, hunting, trapping, moving among and trading with various Indian tribes.

Peter Craig spent his retirement visiting these locations, along with archives and universities in Sweden and Finland, ferreting out information about these families. To him, we owe a massive debt of gratitude, because without his work we would be left with only shreds to try to reweave back into a piece of whole cloth. I’ll spare you the details about the mistakes with early 1693 census publications, but suffice it to say that Craig located and reassembled the information. The order of recording is important as well and provided information about where the families lived. The area was called “New Sweden in Pennsylvania on the Delaware River” and in 1693, the number of people in each household was recorded.

By 1693, not everyone was Swedish or Finnish. Dutch, English and German immigrants had intermarried with the Swedish colonists. Conversely, some of the Swedes were found in Maryland and no longer associated with the Swedish churches. Both of the Swedish churches were without pastors and had requested replacements. A 1697 list of parishioners includes people not listed in 1693 and a population estimate of about 1200.

The total 1693 census was 972 individuals, and within the Swedes community, our Peter Johnson’s ancestor is found – someplace.

Peter Craig listed the Swedes along with the number of souls shown in the census, but due to the changing nature of patronymics, it’s very difficult, without additional information to move further than this.

Thankfully, in the remainder of the book, Craig fleshed out each family, as best he could based on documents retrieved from many locations.

By now, you’re probably wondering why I’ve provided all this background.

Peter Johnson (c1720-1790)

I wrote about “my” Peter Johnson, here and here. We know some things, unquestionably, about Peter Johnson (c1720-1790.)

There is absolutely NO question that Peter Johnson’s descendants are related to the descendants of BOTH Jacob Dobkins who married Dorcas (Darkus) Johnson and Evan Dobkins who married Margaret Johnson.

Three distinct types of genetic evidence come into play.

Genetic Evidence

The mitochondrial DNA descendants of both Dorcas Johnson and Margaret Johnson match each other, confirming that they indeed descend from a common maternal ancestor. Mitochondrial DNA can’t prove actual parentage, but it can certainly rule it out. An exact match is strong evidence. Multiple pieces of evidence point to Darcus/Dorcas and Margaret being sisters. I wrote about this family and their challenges, here.

Even stronger evidence would be to find a mitochondrial DNA descendant of Peter Johnson’s wife, reportedly Mary Polly Philips, through another daughter, descending through all females to the current generation which can be male or female. If the descendant of Mary’s other daughter through all females to the current generation, which can be male, matches both Dorcas and Margaret’s descendants’ mitochondrial DNA, we’ve added another very important piece of evidence that Dorcas and Margaret are daughters of Peter Johnson and his wife. I’m offering a fully paid DNA testing scholarship for a qualifying person.

Using autosomal DNA, descendants of Peter Johnson through multiple other children match dozens of people descended from both Dobkins/Johnson couples.

Click to enlarge

Here’s one example using Ancestry’s ThruLines. How could I match descendants of six of Peter’s other children if I wasn’t descended through Peter or his ancestral line? By ancestral line, I mean that this same phenomenon could happen if I was descended from, say, Peter’s sibling.

Let’s look at another example from the perspective of someone descended from one of Peter Johnson’s other children.

Click to enlarge

This confirmed descendant of Peter Johnson through son James matches several descendants through Peter’s other children, plus 4 through Dorcas Johnson and Jacob Dobkins, plus 21 through Margaret Johnson and Evan Dobkins. How could this person who is descended through Peter’s son James match 25 people descended through Dorcas and Margaret who married the Dobkins boys if Dorcas and Margaret weren’t Peter’s daughters or blood relatives?

Jacob Dobkins and Evan Dobkins are confirmed brothers through John Dobkins and wife Elizabeth, and Dorcas Johnson and Margaret Johnson are believed to be sisters. The Bible of Peter Johnson’s son, Solomon, records two of his sisters marrying Dobkins men. It’s important to note that this record comes from descendants of Peter, through another branch of Peter Johnson’s family, and not from descendants of those two Dobkins/Johnson couples.

A third piece of genetic evidence is the Y-DNA of Peter Johnson.

Several men who descend from Peter and other Johnson males have tested and match each other, including three Big Y-700 testers.

I’ve spent an incredible amount of time recently evaluating Y-DNA and autosomal DNA matches, from tests taken by both Johnson and Yokum testers, or similarly spelled surnames. Some men have completely different Y-DNA, but claim to descend from the same lines. Clearly, we have conflicting evidence to resolve.

Another piece of information of which I’m confident is that our Peter Johnson’s ancestors were indeed Swedish, and I agree with Eric and other Johnson researchers who believe Peter descended from one of the founders of the early Swedish Colony along the Delaware River in the 1600s. Now you know exactly why I’ve shared this information from Peter Craig’s book.

Before we review additional DNA information, I’d like to continue with information about both the Johnson and Yocum lines, extracted from Peter’s comprehensive book. I’ve provided map locations which will aid with locations and proximity.

Peter Petersson Yocum

Page 25-26: Peter Yocum was a member of the Wicaco church when on the last day of May in 1693, 26 members of the Swedish congregation gathered at the log church to sign the letter to Sweden requesting new ministers.

The church faced the Delaware River at the present location of Gloria Dei (Old Swedes) Church in Philadelphia and had originally been built in 1677 to serve the Swedes living above the Schuylkill River, with the 1646 church at Tinicum Island continuing to serve members located between the Schuylkill and Marcus Hook.

When Tinicum Island passed out of Swedish ownership in 1683, the church at Tinicum was abandoned. By 1693, the Wicaco congregation embraced 102 Swedish households extending from Neshaminy Creek in Bucks County to Marcus Hook, on the Pennsylvania side of the Delaware, and from Pennsauken Creek in Burlington County to the southern boundary of Gloucester County (Oldmans Creek) on the New Jersey side of the river.

Identification of the 554 Swedish church members living within this area is facilitated by the fact that in 1697 the new Wicaco minister, Andreas Rudman, made a house-by-house enumeration of his congregation, which was later copied and preserved. This chapter focused on the first 37 Wicaco households listed in the 1693 census. The household’s location is shown as evidenced by contemporary land records. Additionally, the value or size of each property is shown in pounds or acres as reported in contemporary tax records.

Page 43, person #35* – Peter Petersson Yocum (Aronameck, 100 pounds): Peter was born in New Sweden about 1652. His father, a soldier named Peter Jochimsson from Schlesvig in Holsstein, had arrived in New Sweden on the Swan in 1643 and became a freeman on November 1, 1652. He was one of the 22 freemen signing the 1653 complaint against Governor Printz. In the summer of 1654, Governor Rising chose him to go to New Amsterdam (now Manhattan in New York City) on a diplomatic and spying mission to deliver a letter. Peter Jochimsson died there. Thereafter, his widow, aged 20 with 2 children at his death, known in 1693 as Ella Steelman, (#54), married Hans Mansson who raised Peter Petersson as his own son. Peter Petersson who adopted the surname Jochim (Yocum) about 1675 married Judith, daughter of Jonas Nilsson (322), and had seven children by May of 1693: Peter born 1677, Mans born 1678, Catharine born 1681, Charles born 1682, Sven born 1685, Julia born 1687, and Jonas born in 1689. Peter Petersson Yocum who had been prominent as an Indian trader and as an Indian interpreter for William Penn died in 1702. His widow thereafter moved with her younger sons to Manatawny (Berks County) where she died in 1727. Their descendants used the surname of Yocum or Yocom.

Craig provides the following footnote: Subsequent children: Anders (Craig’s ancestor) born 1693, John born 1696 and Maria. For additional references to Peter’s father, Peter Jochimson, see Huygen, 63, MGB 23, 78; Rising 93, 107, 111, 112, 163, 165, 183, 195. Peter Jochimsson also had a daughter, Elisabeth born about 1654 who married an English soldier, John Ogle. Yocum, 270, n24; Stille, 147-149.

*Please note that Craig’s numbers, such as #35, reference their position on the 1693 census. Peter is recorded as “Petter Yocomb – 9” meaning 9 people in the family as of that date.

Mathias Hutt Jönsson

Raccoon Creek is about two miles north of Oldmans Creek, shown at the top of the map below.

Mathias Jönsson alias Hutt, living someplace on or near Salem Creek in New Jersey (upper red arrow,) fell under the Crane Hook Congregation across the river on the Pennsylvania side in what is now Wilmington.

Click to enlarge

His son, Oliver, and possibly other sons would eventually live in the Indian trading village of Sahakitko at Head of Elk, now Elkton, Maryland.

Craig tells us that the migration of families from New Castle County across the Delaware River to Penn’s Neck in Salem County began in 1671. By the time of the 1693 census, the Crane Hook Church counted 130 members living on “the other side” of the Delaware.

Penn’s Neck was bounded by the Delaware River on the west and extended from Oldmans Creek on the north to Salem Creek on the south. The eastern boundary was also Salem Creek to its northern bend, then extending overland northeast to Oldman’s Creek. It derived its name from the fact that William Penn, proprietor of Pennsylvania, also acquired proprietorship of this area in 1683 from its first English claimant, John Fenwick. The church census identifies the households in Penn’s Neck beginning at its northernmost settlement.

Page 104, footnote 58 on Olle Thomasson #113 – partially reads: On August 25, 1685, “Wooley Thomason of Pennsylvania” (which then included Delaware,) and Wooley Peterson of Boughttown (#80) were named co-administrators of the estate of “Matthias Unson” of Salem Creek in Penn’s Neck. NJA, 23:474. The deceased whose full name was Matthias Jönsson alias Hutt, directed that his son Michael should live with Wooley Thompson. Salem Co. wills, 2:16-17, NJA 23:474; 1730 accounting by William Peterson, surviving executor, Salem County probate records 503Q, NJA, 23:263-64.

This next portion loops in another Jönsson family and is confusing. I apologize in advance.

The Jönsson or Halton Family – The probable progenitor of the Halton family was Jons Jönsson, a Finn from Letstigen, Varmland, who was listed in October 1655 as about to go to New Sweden on the Mercurius with his wife and 6 children. Later records disclose the presence of Olle, Peter and Mans Jönsson whose patronymic was later replaced by Halton. Along with Nils Larsson France (see #85), Olle Rawson (#135) and their associated, Olle Jönsson (also known as “Carringa Olle”) was licensed by the New Jersey governor in 1668 to buy Indian lands on the east side of the Delaware River. The subsequent purchase agreement, executed Nov. 15, 1676, conveyed the lands to Hans Hoffman and Peter Jönsson. In 1684, Peter Jönsson moved to Penn’s Neck, Salen County, dying in 1692. He called himself Peter Halton in his will, naming his wife as Mary and his children as Frederick, Andrew and Brita.

Page 79 #78 – Lasse Halton (Raccoon Creek, 100 acres): Born about 1668, Lasse Halton was the eldest son of Olle Jönsson (“Carringa Olle”) and in 1693 was probably residing with his brother Hans and Carl Halton. Lasse later married a daughter of Matthias Jönsson of Penn’s Neck. The names of their children, if any, are uncertain. He moved to Piles Grove, Salem County, around 1707, after selling his Raccoon Creek Plantation to his brother Hans.

The 100 acres occupied by Lasse Halton was taxed to his mother, “Madlen Janson” in 1687. Her name was replaced with his on the 1690 and 1694 tax lists.

The final accounting of the estate of Matthias Jönsson, filed in 1730, showed a payment to Lausy Halton for his wife’s filial portion NJA, 21:263-264. He had picked out his grave site at Raccoon church in 1724. RPN, 27.

Carl (Charles) Halton married Maria, daughter of Matthias Jönsson (NJA, 23:263-64) and following her death, Gunnilla Fransson. Charles Halton died at Penn’s Neck in 1738.

Page 148, #173 Anders Anderson Weinam (150 aces): (The first portion regarding his name omitted.)

It is uncertain whether Anders Andersson Weinam was a son of a settler or New Sweden named Anders or whether he was among the 1663-1664 arrivals under Dutch rule. Anders was fined 50 guilders in the 1669 Long Finn Rebellion. By 1677 he had moved to Crane Hook. In 1679, he joined Matthias Jönsson, Lars Corneliusson (see #174-75) and widow Annika Hendricks (see #176) in obtaining the original 600 acre grant at Chestnut Neck between Parting Creek and Bastowe (sauna) Creek. In 1690 Nicholas Philpot purchased 50 acres from Anders Andersson’s original 150 acres. Meanwhile, in partnership with Peter Bilderback, Anderson acquired a nearby tract of 100 acres from William Penn. In 1697 Anders Weinam pledged 18 shillings for the new church at Christina and in 1699 both Anders Vinam and his wife were assigned pews at Holy Trinity. The will of Anders Andersson of Penn’s Neck, dated July 9, 1719, gave his entire estate to his wife Anna. Her will, proved the following year, made her brother Henery Boasman (Hendrick Batsman), sold heir, which identifies her as the daughter of Joran Joransson Batsman (see #151.) She and Anders had no children. Their household of four probably included two of the children of Matthias Jönsson Hutt.

Matthias Jönsson alias Hutt had been granted a patent for 100 acres at Feren Hook in 1669. Fined in 1675 in the dike rebellion, he remained at that location until 1679 when he moved to Chestnut Neck. When he died in 1685, he left nine orphan children. The two youngest of his sons, Eric and Eskil Jönsson or Johnson, also known as Erik and Eskil Hutton or Hotton, remained in Penn’s Neck and probably were members of Anders Andersson’s household in 1693.

Will – 1684-5 Feb. 14 – Unson, Mathias, of Castiana Neck on Fenwick’s River alias Salem Greek, Salem Tenth, planter; will of. Gives real and personal estate to his nine children, of whom only the following names are given; Woola Matheson, who is to live with Lause Powleson, Michael, the third son, to live with Wooley Thompson, the fourth son, Erick, to live with Andrea Anderson. Witnesses – Peeter Billderbeck and William Wilkinson. Proved August 11, 1685

1730 <no date> – Johnson, Mathias, of Pen’s Neck, Salem Co., yeoman. Account of the estate of £75.9, by the surviving executor, William Peterson, who has paid to Lausey Halton £8.5 in full of his wife’s filial portion, to Mary, wife of Chas. Halton £6 as her portion, to Samuel Walcott and wife Katharine £8.5, the filial portion of Erick Johnson, said Katherine’s former husband, to Oliver Johnson £6.3, to Eskell Johnson £6.3, to Michael Johnson £4.17.6, to Henry Johnson £6.3, Margaret Johnson £6.3, all filial portions. [No will on record or on file.]

Footnote 46 – DYR, 137, NYHM, 20:22; 21:104; NCR, 1:160, 163; NJA, 21:544, 568, 574; will of Matthis Unson of Castiana Neck on Salem Creek, dated Feb 14, 1684/5 and proved May 11 1685, Salem County wills, 2:16, and final accounting of estate of Matthias Johnson by William Peterson, surviving executor, filed 1730, Salem County wills, 503-Q. The eldest son, Olle, later known as Oliver, was to stay with Lars Palsson Kampe (#147), Henrick with Lars’ father Pal Larsson and Michael with Olle Thompson (#113). They all died at Sahakitko (Elkton), Cecil County. See, e.g., MCW, 7:219. Eric was to live with Anders Andersson and Eskil was unassigned. Eric and Eskil Hutton or Hotten both pledged money and contributed labor for the building of Holy Trinity Church and were assigned pews in that church in 1699. Eric as Eric Jansson or Johnson married Catharine Gillijohnson and died at Penn’s Neck in 1719. Eskil as Ezekiel Jansson or Johnson worked on the glebe house for Penn’s Neck church in 1721 and died intestate in Penn’s Neck in 1726. According to the accounting, one daughter married Lars Halton (#78), another, Maria, married Lars Halton’s brother Charles Halton. A third was named Margaret Johnson in the account. The fourth, Catherine Johnson and her newborn child were maintained by Olle (William) Peterson of Gloucester County (#80) for 13 months.

Information for Lars Palsson Kampe (#147) (Sahakitko): This man’s father, Pal Larsson had been granted a patent at Feren Hook in 1668, was fined 100 guilders in the 1669 Long Finn Rebellion and 20 guilders in the 1675 dike rebellion. The will of Paul Larson dated March 7, 1685, witnessed by Olle Palsson and Eskil Andersson, left his “house and lands whereon I now live” to his wife Magdalena for life, then to his daughters – unnamed. He left to his sons Lawrence and Matthias “my land which is now in Elk River, which is 200 acres,” with directions that Lawrence keep and maintain Matthias. On October 20, 1685, Paul sold his 200-acre home plantation at Feren Hook to Justa Andersson and apparently moved to Elk River, Cecil County where his will was proved June 3, 1692. His eldest son, Lars Palsson chose the surname Kampe, warrior in Swedish, as illustrated in this census. In 1693 his household included his wife (name unknown,) their first children and perhaps his brother Matthias. Lars had three children who later moved to Gloucester County: John, Paul and Brigitta Kampe, also written as Camp.

These families were neighbors and eventually, related. Their lives were intertwined and the survival of the colony depended on the cooperation of many.

In Peter Stebbins Craig’s book, 1671 Census of the Delaware, he states that Feren Hook, meaning Pink Hook, appears to have been settled in 1663 by Swedes and Finns arriving from Sweden via Christiania (now Oslo,) Norway, and Amsterdam in the time of d’Hinojossa. Transcription here.

The Quandary

Now, of course, the quandary.

My Johnson cousins Y-DNA matches a few other Johnson men and one Yocum male.

The Yokum male shows his ancestor as Peter Jochimsson born in 1620 and died in 1702. That, of course would be the father of Peter Petersson Yocum.

At first glance, this looks like a slam dunk, meaning our Johnson line is Yocum, descended from Peter Jochimsson, but it isn’t.

Eric Johnson, who is descended from “our” Peter Johnson who was born circa 1720 and died in 1790 in Allegheny County, PA, worked with Dr. Peter Craig before his death who provided Eric with information suggesting that our Peter Johnson is descended from Mathias Jönsson alias Hutt, through his son Oliver (Olle) who had son Peter in 1720 in Cecil County, MD, near Head of Elk, now Elkton.

I found a record in 1740 in Cecil County, MD for 3 Johnson men, Oliver, Simon and Peter, members of the foot company militia under the command of Capt. Zebulon Hollingsworth. Is this “our” Peter as a young man, or a different Peter. I don’t know.

Also in Cecil County, one Peter Johnson’s will is probated in 1747, and we know that our Peter had moved to the border of Pennsylvania and Maryland by 1742, near Hagerstown. Later deeds tie Peter in Allegheny County, PA to the Peter in Franklin Co., PA.

The records for Peter Johnson (c1720-1790) begin in April of 1742 when he obtained land in Lancaster County, PA, the portion that became Cumberland County in 1750, then Franklin County in 1784. If he was born in 1720, he would only have been 22 at the time, which isn’t impossible but young based on the customs of the time. This land was actually on or very near the Maryland/Pennsylvania border, just above Frederick County, MD, close to Hagerstown.

Hence, the suggestion that our Peter Johnson descended from Elkton in Cecil County seems reasonable.

One thing is certain. Our Johnson and Yocum men DO share a common ancestor as confirmed by Big Y-700 DNA testing.

The question is, of course, whether the Yocum male has documentation confirming that he descends from Peter Jochimsson, the father of Peter Petersson Yocum (#35) or if that was an assumption by someone based on the Yocum surname? If not, what type of source information exists and is it conclusive and incontrovertible?

What are the Possibilities?

Unfortunately, we now have some contradictory evidence to resolve.

  • It’s possible that the Yocum male who matches our Johnson line very closely does have solid, confirmed genealogy descending from Peter Jochimsson. If that’s the case, can each successive generation be confirmed? How strong is the evidence?
  • If our Yocum male’s line can be confirmed, then our ancestor is also very likely Peter Jochimsson.

However, there’s a plot twist.

  • There’s another group of about 10 Yocum men who match each other, two of who claim to descend from Peter Jochimsson as well. These men do not match “our Yocum” male, nor do they match any Johnsons. Their haplogroup is in an entirely different branch of the tree.

These groups of men cannot BOTH be directly paternally descended from Peter Jochimsson.

  • It’s possible that our Johnson/Yokum line is indeed descended from Mathias Jönsson alias Hutt. If that’s the case, then someplace, Jönsson became Yokum several generations back in time for at least one male whose descendant tested today, while the rest remained or became Johnson/Johnston.
  • Its not possible for our Johnson line to descend from Mathias Jönsson/Hutt and the Yokum man who matches the Johnson Y-DNA to descend from Peter Jochimsson, unless of course these ancestral men were closely related to each other, sharing a common paternal ancestor.

Peter Jochimsson and Mathias Jönsson/Hutt sharing a common paternal ancestor is certainly not impossible, but in New Sweden, they don’t live very close to each other. Initially, they were about 40 miles distant. So, if they were related, it’s either in the first generation or two, before 1702, or reaches back to the old country. However, that isn’t what the Y-DNA suggests.

Craig says that Mathias Jochimsson came from Schlesvig in Holsstein, the northern portion of Germany that abuts Denmark, and the settlers in Feren Hook were from near Oslo. Of course, that’s not absolute given that Craig never found a specific origin for Mathias Jönsson/Hutt.

We also don’t know when Mathias Johnsson/Hutt arrived, or where he came from. We know for sure a group of settlers arrived in 1656. According to Amandus Johnson in The Swedes on the Delaware 1638-1664, a final group of Finnish families from Sweden landed in Holland in 1664, en route for New Sweden, but it’s unclear whether they were allowed to proceed to the colonies. We know for sure that Mathias Jönsson/Hutt was in Feren Hook by 1669.

It’s worth noting that little is known about Peter Jochimsson, the original settler, aside from his one son, Peter Petersson Yocum and a daughter reported by Craig. He was either unmarried upon arrival and didn’t marry until he gained his freedom in 1652, or he had more children that died, or he had more children that we don’t know about. Craig reports his widow to have been 20 at his death, with two children which opens the possibility that she was a second wife.

It’s also worth noting that we have the other Otto Jönsson “Carringa Olle” who reportedly took the surname Halton. That line also contains a Peter.

The Y DNA

Two Johnson men and the Yocum tester have taken the Big Y-700 test which has a very distinct aging ability. They have the same haplogroup which is shown on the public Discover haplotree, here.

The most recent common ancestor of these men is estimated to have been born about 1750, which would be roughly the generation of our Peter Johnson who was born before 1720 and died in 1790. Given that we don’t know for sure who Peter’s father was, it’s very likely that our Peter Johnson (possibly the son of Oliver) had siblings and uncles, so Johnson becoming phonetically spelled Yocum or vice versa wouldn’t be the least bit surprising in that era, or in the generation(s) prior.

The confidence range and associated dates suggest that the common ancestor of these Johnson/Yokum men was born in New Sweden. If that is accurate, that means that both the Yocum and Johnson testers are either descended from one ancestor in New Sweden, meaning either Peter Jochimsson or Mathias Johnson alias Hutt (assuming the ancestor is one of those two men.) It likely removes the possibility that those two men were related in the old country, especially given that Craig identified Jochimsson’s origins in Schleswig-Holsstein and suggests that Mathias Jönsson/Hutt may have originated near Oslo.

It may be worth mentioning at this point that, according to the mitochondrial DNA matches of Dorcas Johnson and Margaret Johnson, the daughter of Peter Johnson and his wife, Mary Polly Phillips (if that was her name,) their closest matches are clustered in Finland.

That, of course, strongly suggests that Peter Johnson (c1720-1790) probably married the daughter of one of the settler families wherever he was living in the early 1740s when he would have been marrying.

Let’s hope we find that someone descended from another daughter of Peter Johnson and Mary Polly Philips, through all females to the current generation, which can be male or female, to take a mitochondrial DNA test. That match would solidify the relationship of Dorcas and Margaret to Peter Johnson and Mary.

Now, to determine Peter’s ancestors…

Research Activities

Recently, I extracted records for Maryland and Virginia Counties when I visited the FamilySearch Library in Salt Lake City. Why Maryland and Virginia? John Dobkins, the father of Jacob and Evan Dobkins is first found in the Monocacy Valley of Maryland before migrating in the early 1730s to what was at that time Frederick County, VA with Jost Hite, one of the early land speculators. Frederick County became Augusta and Dunmore, which eventually became Shenandoah County. John Dobkins lived in Dunmore which is where both Darcus Johnson married Jacob Dobkins and Margaret Johnson married Evan Dobkins in 1775. The Dobkins family is connected with (and probably related to) the Riley Moore family who was found in Prince George’s County, MD, adjacent to Cecil County. Frederick County, MD was once part of Prince George’s County, and Frederick County MD is where Peter Johnson (c1720-1790) is found owning land, on the border with Pennsylvania – Josh Hite’s stomping ground.

Frederick County, VA is chocked full of settlers from Cecil County, Prince George’s County and Frederick County, MD. Furthermore, many New Jersey Quakers moved to Frederick County, VA and established the Hopewell Meeting House. It would make sense that Peter Johnson’s family, perhaps him or maybe his siblings and uncles would make their way down that same path leading to land on the next frontier.

I was tracking Johnsons by the first names we’re familiar with, plus Isaac Johnson who is found associated with John Dobkins in Shenandoah County, VA, as was John Johnson. I found two other records for Isaac Johnson in Frederick County, one in 1751 as a witness to the will of Adam Warner, and one in 1769 as a legatee of Ralph Thompson who also had a son named Isaac. Additionally, there’s an Isaac Johnson in Cumberland County, PA but there’s nothing to suggest that these are the same man. John Johnson was a very common name and I ran out of time.

Somehow, Peter Johnson HAD to be in the Dunmore County neighborhood in 1775 for his two daughters to marry John Dobkins’ sons. There is no record of Peter in Dunmore County in 1775, but the existing records are incomplete. In 1778, Dunmore became Shenandoah.

Was Peter related to either Isaac or John Johnson who were associated with John Dobkins? I wish I had the answer to that. Two of one’s daughters did not marry two sons of a family you weren’t acquainted with, in a location where you weren’t living. Courting required proximity. Of course, the Revolutionary War was interfering with just about everything, so who knows why Peter Johnson might have been in Virginia in 1775. The county records are incomplete during this time, and the entire country was in an uproar.

Peter Johnson sold his land on the Pennsylvania/Maryland border in 1769 and 1770 although his adult son Richard (Derrick) remained in that location, at least for a while. Peter’s Brethren neighbors in Maryland moved to Holman Creek in Dunmore/Shenandoah County, directly adjacent John Dobkins, becoming his neighbors.

One Peter Johnson is found in Bedford County, PA in 1772, but it’s doubtful that this is the same man since he’s listed as a single freeman. Other than that, Peter’s entirely missing from 1773 when he’s found in Rostravener Township, PA, which is all of SW Pennsylvania, until 1783 when he’s found again in the same location. Part of Rostravener became Allegheny County in 1780, where Peter Johnson eventually settled and died a decade later.

In 1776, one Peter Johnson swears an oath of allegiance in Cumberland Co., PA, but our Peter had already left. Peter Johnson is not a terribly unusual name.

One of the earlier Johnson books states that Peter came from Winchester, VA which is found in Frederick Co., VA where there is an early mention of a Peter Johnson. In 1773, according to Eric Johnson, one Richard and Priscilla Johnson mention their son Peter in a deed, although that may well be a younger man. I do not have that record, nor know where they lived.

In other words, the very best clue we have as to where Peter Johnson was found in 1775 is where his two daughters were married to Dobkins men.

In addition to these recent research activities, I have a friend who has been helping me search for tidbits high and low. I’m still processing the information she has sent. Maybe there’s something more hidden there.

Followup

I’ve written to the matches of my Johnson cousins asking if they will share their genealogy, or at least as much as they know.

I’d surely love to see additional Johnson and Yokum men take Y-DNA tests, and those who match our line upgrade to the Big Y-700. Perhaps, between more refined time tree placement in addition to jointly working on genealogy and sharing resources, we can isolate one lineage and eliminate the other. That alone would be a victory!

I’m still chiseling at this brick wall, bit by bit!

_____________________________________________________________

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DNAExplain Blog to be Preserved for Future Generations in the Library of Congress

Yes, indeed, this is definitely a red-letter event!!!

Not only is having my blog archived in the Library of Congress an incredible honor, but it solves a long-standing problem. Let’s start at the beginning.

In the Beginning…

I started this blog, www.dna-explained.com, also www.dnaexplain.com, for three primary reasons:

  • To educate the public, specifically genetic genealogists, about effectively using DNA for genealogy.
  • To share my own and other relevant vendor and non-vendor research and advancements in the field.
  • To provide a timeline and cumulative progressive history of this emerging field, recorded as it occurred. Essentially an industry diary.

My first blog article was published in July of 2012. The direct-to-consumer genetics industry was about 12 years old at that time. Today, the industry is roughly 23 years old and my blog is approaching its 11th anniversary. I’ve covered nearly half of the life of the genetic genealogy industry.

I recently crossed the threshold of 1600 published articles which equates to about 2.5 articles each week. Those articles total over 4 million words, or more than 15,000 pages of text, plus 20,000 images. That’s about half the size of the Encyclopedia Brittanica. That level of writing and publishing is almost a full-time job, alone, without anything else. Yet, I need to perform the research and do the work to create the content of each article. Not to mention the rest of my activities that pay the bills.

Anyone who writes, specifically, those who write to publish regularly, such as a blog, know that blogging isn’t exactly easy and requires an incredible amount of investmented time. The majority of blogs are abandoned shortly after creation. I fully understand why. You have to love both the process of writing and the subject – and be willing to contribute. Not to mention monitoring and approving the more than 50,000 comments and such.

As you know, this blog is free. I don’t charge for a subscription. I don’t accept paid content, guest articles or write articles for pay. I do have affiliate links at the bottom, but consider those cumulative purchases equivalent to buying me a cup of coffee. (Thank you to those who purchase through those links.)

There is some recurring financial investment in blogging too, but the biggest commitment, by far, is time. Hours and days that can’t be spent elsewhere, like on genealogy, for example – which leads me to my 52 Ancestors articles.

52 Ancestors

Of those slightly more than 1600 articles, 465 are in my 52 Ancestors series. I’m “blaming,” or crediting, Amy Johnson Crow for this, because in January of 2014, she challenged genealogists to write something about one ancestor a week and share or publish it someplace, somehow. I really liked that idea, and came to discover that focusing on one ancestor at a time, not a couple, and not their parents or children, allowed me to live with them for a bit and view their life through their eyes alone. So many times we know very little about our ancestor’s lives, and even less about the women. Interweaving Y-DNA and mitochondrial DNA results and matches, relationships and the history of what was happening around them provides an invaluable tool to connect with their lives.

I wasn’t sure I could maintain that one article per week pace, but I wanted to try. The 52 Ancestors challenge was just for one year, right? I could stop anytime, right? But how would I share? I didn’t really think any of you would be interested in MY ancestors, so I very nearly didn’t publish these stories on my blog. I’m INCREDIBLY glad that I did, because I use both genealogy and genetic tools at multiple vendors to confirm those ancestors, to find and identify their descendants, and to break though next-generation brick walls. Plus, I’ve discovered innumerable wonderful cousins!

Having committed, I jumped into 52 Ancestors with both feet and immediately addressed a very long-standing mystery about my father’s missing son. What I didn’t expect to happen was for you, my readers, to help solve it, but you did!!! Two weeks later, Lee was identified, had a name and a history! Wow we were off and running at breakneck speed. To this day, the 52 Ancestors articles remain some of my favorites, along with the process of bringing those ancestors back to life, even if just through words.

Sometimes I don’t write about ancestors specifically, but memorable events in our lifetimes that we’ve shared, like the 1969 moon landing, Y2K and more recently, the anniversary of the space shuttle Challenger explosion. Don’t you wish someone had written or journaled about contemporary milestones in our ancestor’s lives? What I wouldn’t give for that!

Preservation and Perpetuity

One of the reasons I write about my ancestors and genetic genealogy more broadly is because I very much want to share with other researchers, now and in the future.

In some cases, I’m the contributor, but often others contribute invaluable information to me. I firmly believe that a rising tide lifts all ships.

My goal is twofold:

  • To educate others and share methodologies so they can find and confirm their ancestors.
  • To complete the painting of my ancestor’s lives, or as much as I can in my lifetime.

Both of these are foundations upon which others can build.

A few years ago, I began to be concerned with preservation in perpetuity. How might I preserve those stories and the rest of my blog? I realize that in time, the technical aspects of my blog articles will be dated, but the educational basics remain firm. Better research methodologies will be developed. New information, both paper trail and genetic, will, hopefully, be unearthed about my ancestors, but I want the information I’ve provided to remain accessible over time.

I’ve been a technologist long enough to know that nothing is forever. Web sites disappear every day. The Internet Archive is wonderful, but it too may go poof, not to mention that you need to know the website url to access the archived website.

I reached out to WordPress, my blogging platform a few years ago. I asked if I could pay in advance for a “permanent” website, but they said that after payment stopped for the domain name and my subscription for the “non-free” platform, that my articles would revert to a free WordPress site “forever.” That means the url would change. Of course, none of the original links would work, and its value would be much dimished given that the articles would not appear in search engines. Furthermore, “forever” in technology days could be very short indeed.

Resources like FamilySearch aren’t meant for publications like my blog, and neither is WikiTree, especially “someday” after the blog link is no longer valid. I’ve posted links to articles on my blog on the ancestors’ profiles at WikiTree and in my personal trees at MyHeritage and Ancestry, but once the link is gone, effectively, so is the information.

I could copy the articles to word/pdf documents and attach those files to the trees, but we really don’t know what will and will not have longevity in today’s technical genealogical environment. Plus, I don’t want my articles behind a paywall anyplace, especially since I’ve made them available for free.

However, the Library of Congress has now solved that quandary for me and I’m both elated and honored.

The Invitation  

In the crazy days leading up to RootsTech, a gem of an email landed in my inbox. It was supposedly the Library of Congress (LOC) requesting to archive this blog and make this website available for all perpetuity as part of a collection of historically and culturally significant websites designated for preservation.

That’s quite a compliment.

I wasn’t quite sure I believed it. In fact, I was pretty sure that I didn’t.

Of course, the first thing I thought was that these were really brilliant scammers.

I contacted the LOC and discovered that this email was, indeed, genuine. I was both shocked and humbled.

To Whom It May Concern:

The United States Library of Congress requests permission to include your website in the Local History and Genealogy Web Archive, which is part of a larger collection of historically and culturally significant websites that have been designated for preservation. The following URL has been selected for archiving: https://dna-explained.com/.

The Library hopes that you share its vision of preserving digital content and making it available to current and future generations of researchers. As the internet has become an increasingly important and influential part of our lives, we believe the historical record would be incomplete if websites like yours are not preserved and made a part of it. We also believe that expanding access to the Library’s collections is one of the best ways we can increase opportunities for education and scholarship around the world. Please provide the Library with permission to archive your website and provide public access to archived versions of your website by filling out the form available here: <link redacted.>

With your permission, the Library of Congress or its agent will engage in the collection of content from your website at regular intervals over time. In order to properly archive the above URL, we may archive other portions of the website and public content that your page links to on third party sites such as social media platforms. In addition to the aforementioned collection, archived content from your website may be added to other relevant collections in the future. This content would be available to researchers only at Library facilities or by special arrangement, unless you additionally grant the Library permission for the content to become more broadly available through hosting on the Library’s public website, which would be done no sooner than one year after it was collected. For more information on the web archiving process, please read our frequently asked questions.

We encourage you to learn more about the Library’s Web Archiving program and explore our collections to see examples of how we archive websites. If you have any questions, comments, or recommendations concerning the archiving of your website, please email the Library’s Web Archiving Team at webcapture@loc.gov.

Thank you.

Library of Congress Web Archiving Team

It would be an understatement to say I was incredibly excited. There were no balloons or jubilant noisemakers though, and the cats were unimpressed as I clicked and agreed for my collective body of work to succeed me “forever.” Who knew milestones like this were so quiet, with only me winking to Mom and Dad who I’m positive were watching and silently cheering!

Here’s the confirmation of my acceptance.

So, in another hundred years, just like I can search for, say, Estes photos from a century or more ago at the Library of Congress, people living four or five generations in the future will be able to search for and read about the very early days of genetic genealogy and find those ancestor stories. They will also be able to learn something about the time in which we live today.

I can stop worrying about more than a decade’s worth of work disappearing after I join my ancestors, hopefully to obtain the answers that have eluded me here.

I’m incredibly, incredibly humbled and grateful to the Library of Congress for this amazing opportunity to contribute to our collective heritage. Thanks to each and every one of you for joining me on our journey into the history books.

_____________________________________________________________

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Margaret Herrell Bolton’s Deposition – 52 Ancestors #390

Recently, we discovered that one of Michael McDowell’s daughters was unknown, and he had three sons attributed to him that weren’t his children.

A chancery suit file from Hancock County, TN included a deposition from Michael’s son, John McDowell that was chocked full of wonderful information. I just wish he had told us who his mother was, but I digress.

That wasn’t all though. There was even more unexpected information buried in that file.

Michael’s Granddaughter – Margaret Herrell

Michael McDowell sold a significant amount of his land before his death, including two acres of land at the mouth of 4 Mile Creek to his granddaughter, Margaret Herrell, who was married to Anson Martin at the time. It’s unclear why he only sold two acres of land at the mouth of the creek. Did they construct a mill, perhaps? Two acres is not nearly enough to farm.

Two acres is about 208 feet by 416 feet, or the size of about two football fields. Of course a log cabin and barn would have been built there too.

We don’t know the shape of their two acres, but it would have been about this much land at this location, with the Powell River at right.

Anson and Margaret were married about 1828, but Anson died about 1845. In the 1850 census, Margaret, age 38, is enumerated with her 8 children in Hancock County, TN, next door to her parents who lived adjacent to Michael McDowell, her grandfather. Of course, next door probably didn’t mean literally. It probably meant that no other houses had been built between those homesteads. Next door could have been up the path along the river and around the bend, or even across the river. In fact, we know positively that Michael did live across the Powell River on Slanting Misery. Trust me, it was aptly named.

At one point a swinging rope bridge existed across the river at McDowell Shoals where the islands remain, today. I’m sure that swinging bridge was preferable to fording the river, especially since there was only one possible location and only when the water was low.

Regardless, I’d have stayed on shore. It’s a LONG way down. I can feel that bridge creak and swing, just sitting here. (Shudders!)

Margaret probably walked it unafraid. Maybe even helped to construct it.

This survey shows the various bends in the Powell River. McDowell Bend is located right next to Harrell Bend. The river snaked its way between the mountains on either side.

The 1850 Census

In the 1850 census, Margaret’s neighbor, Joseph Bolton was living with his first wife, Polly Tankersley who would pass away shortly thereafter, probably not long after June 1850.

Based on the birth date of Margaret and Joseph’s first child, it appears that were married by late 1850. Both had small children to raise, he had 7 and she had 9 that we know of, and the couple had likely known each other for the decade since Joseph and his wife, Mary, arrived from Virginia and became Margaret and Anson’s neighbors.

Joseph and Margaret’s first child together, Mary, was born in September of 1851 and their second and final child, named Joseph Bolton after his father arrived two years later.

In April of 1861, Margaret Herrell Bolton and John McDowell, her uncle, both gave depositions about Michael McDowell’s land.

Transcription of Margaret Herrell Bolton’s Deposition

John McDowell he say is 71 years of age and witness for the defendant taken upon notice on the 6th day of April 1861 at my house in the presence of the plaintiff and defendant William McDowel on a entry that he made. He made sugar for many years on it and rails. Michael McDowell made one entry he got his fire wood of it and maid rails of it.

Note – sugar would be referring to maple sugar, and rails would be referencing fence rails.

Margret Bolton witness for the defendant age fifty years. I know they made sugar up in that bent. She made sugar thair two years or more. She says that she got wood of that hill. Anson Martin made rails their.

The said witness being duly sworn to their age.

Margaret’s Signature

I was very excited to see Margaret’s signature, even if it is an ”X.” It’s still her mark, made by her own hand, as she touched this paper, 162 years ago. Other than her DNA that runs in the veins of some of her descendants, it’s the only tangible thing left of her on this earth.

Margaret, Margret or however her name was spelled probably would be shocked that a great-granddaughter, or anyone for that matter, would be looking at this document more than a century and a half later.

It appears that both John and Margaret both had to sign to attest their ages.

I can close my eyes and picture Margaret, at 50, and her uncle, sitting side by side as they gave their testimony to the clerk of court who was writing what they said as best he could. I’d bet her hair was graying and she might have pinned it up on her head so it wouldn’t look disheveled.

In the deposition, it says it is taken “at my house,” but I can’t tell if that mean’s John McDowell’s house or William McNiel’s house, or something else. The deposition is difficult to follow in terms of who is talking. Sometimes William quotes them, and sometimes he talks about what they said.

I wonder if Joseph Bolton hitched up the wagon with a team of horses, picked up John McDowell, and rode to town with Margaret and John. Did they visit William McNiel’s house in Sneedville, or did they simply visit one of the McNiel family homes, much closer to McDowell Bend. Probably down by or even at the old Walker homestead.

The McNiel families lived right across the road from the Walkers, up on the side of Powell Mountain. It would have been a good half-way point.

William McNiel was the only McNiel to live in town, but he surely visited his relatives from time to time and may still have owned family land.

This old cabin is gone now of course, but this old McNiel cabin reportedly belonged to William McNiel’s father, although I have doubts that it’s that old. Back in 1860, it would have been a mansion though, compared to a one room log cabin.

John McDowell and Margaret Harrell Bolton’s depositions were hand-written by William McNiel. I’d wager that was what happened. Everybody probably crowded round the kitchen table, such as it was, someplace nearby. Town was a really long way to go for an old man in his 70s bouncing around in a wagon with no shocks on those mountain roads. That trip would have taken a couple days each way – so better to meet closer to where everyone lived.

A Peek into Margaret’s Life

In her deposition, Margaret told about making “sugar, two years herself.”

Sugar means maple syrup which can only be made from sugar maple trees or their cousins, the black or red maple. Tennessee isn’t known for making maple syrup and is the southernmost part of the US range where sugar maples grow and that is cold enough in the winter.

This means that Margaret would have inserted taps into the maple trees just when the weather began to warm.

She would have hung buckets on the taps, allowing the maple sap to drain into the buckets for collection. Maples must be mature, at least 40 years of age, in order to produce sap, and can be tapped until they are about 100 years old. This means that these maples would have been original growth trees on Michael’s land.

The buckets of sap would have been taken home, probably by horse-drawn wagon, then boiled for hours to days in a “sugar shack,” or perhaps out in the open or under a lean-to, into maple syrup.

The Native people made maple syrup by making V shaped notches in trees and inserting reeds to drain the sap into “sugar buckets,” which is probably how the early settlers learned how to do the same.

Maple syrup and honey were the only ways to sweeten food. It takes about 40 gallons of sap to make 1 gallon of maple syrup, or three buckets to a pint. Roughly four maple trees will yield enough sap for a gallon of syrup over the 6-8 weeks that the sap flows in the spring.

Maple syrup was a scarce and cherished commodity.

After gathering gallons of sap, it was brought back and boiled in large cauldrons over an open fire for days until it was thick. The sap had to boiled until it was “just right.” If you didn’t boil it long enough, it would be watery and spoil, and if you boiled it too long, it crystalized into sugar. If you boil it too rapidly, or too slowly, it affects the flavor and texture. If making maple syrup is beginning to sound like a form of food art, you’d be correct. Today, modern measurement equipment allows batches to be boiled accurately and consistently, but Margaret didn’t have any tools – just her own experience and what she was taught by her parents and probably Michael McDowell himself.

You can see a video of sugar-making today in Tennessee, here. It was much more difficult and labor intensive in Margaret’s day. No tractors or modern equipment.

Margaret’s Life with Anson Martin and Joseph Bolton

We know that between 1828 and 1845 when Anson died, they harvested wood and made rails for split-rail fences that would surround their homestead. Those fences would have functioned to keep animals inside, and perhaps to keep some animals out as well.

It’s interesting to note that in the 1850 agricultural census, Joseph Bolton (red underscore at top), who is still married to Mary Tankersley, only has 10 improved acres and 50 unimproved. He had one horse. Farmers worked the land and raised crops, both for food and to sell, by hand using rudimentary horse or oxen-drawn plows and such. The land on “Slating Misery” and that neighborhood earned its name. Farming that rock-strewn soil on those steep hillsides was anything but easy.

Margaret Herrell Martin (red underscore at bottom), a widow, on the other hand had 30 improved acres and 55 unimproved. It’s clear that she and Anson are not restricted to the two acres they purchased from Michael McDowell in 1833. Maybe that was the seed land for their farm.

By 1850, Margaret owned 3 horses, 3 milk cows, 3 other cattle, 4 pigs and 2 sheep – so clearly plenty of animals that needed to be confined within a fence or barn. We always think of the “poor” widow, but in this case, Margaret seems to be better off than her “soon-to-be” husband, Joseph Bolton.

However, after combining their assets and 16 children, they would have had 4 horses, 5 milk cows, 3 other cattle, 14 hogs and 17 sheep living on a total of 40 improved acres and 105 unimproved acres. I don’t know this, but I’d guess that the smaller of their two homes became the “starter home” for their children who were newlyweds. In fact, Margaret’s oldest child, Evaline, married Alexander Calvin Busic sometime in 1851 or early 1852, not long after her mother married Joseph Bolton. Evaline’s first child was born in December of 1852, just 15 months after her mother’s first child with Joseph Bolton.

Seasons

And so it was on the land across the Powell River from Slanting Misery. The seasons came and went, the sugar ran and didn’t. Babies were born and many died. Families dug graves. Time for grief was short. Too much to do.

The fields were plowed and seeds sewn. Moonshine making followed the fall harvest and butchering season in a mountainous region far from the courthouse were lawlessness and white lightning became an art form.

The passes and valleys along the Powell River were and are steep and treacherous.

Powel River had to be forded, at least once if not twice to get to the McDowell and Herrell lands.

It was a LONG way down to that river. Margaret came from hardy stock who figured out how to make a life, and a living here.

Nobody bothered those tough-as-nails people up on 4 Mile Creek, at McDowell Shoals. Nosiree.

Mostly, they kept to themselves and married their neighbors. Deeds were passed hand to hand for generations.

Life was hardscrabble. People still live in some of those remade one-room cabins where entire families lived together. Children were raised, women wove fabric, made everyone’s clothes, cooked outside and washed in the river. During the all-too-often wars that took the men away, the womenfolk did it all, in addition to defending the homestead. Life was tough and people died young.

Those widows plowed fields, split firewood, and built rail fences, not to mention preparing the ingredients, cooking, making treats like maple syrup, and looking after children. And they did just fine on their own, thank you. I’d not advise poking around on their land or into their business. Just sayin’.

Margaret may not have been able to sign her name, or even know how to spell it, but she had many far more useful skills. Somehow, she managed to feed a passel of kids on just 30 acres of land for years, and maybe helped her neighbor, Joseph, to boot, when his wife was ill. Their decision to join forces and families was probably the best solution for everyone concerned. I’m certainly glad they did. Their youngest child is my great-grandfather, Joseph B. “Dode” Bolton who married the neighbor gal, Margaret Claxton, who lived in the next bend over on the Powell River.

Margaret Herrell Bolton was very clearly a force to be reckoned with. A pioneer woman in every sense and spirit of the word.

____________________________________________________________

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Michael McDowell (1747-1840): Children & Land Dispute Revealed in Chancery Suit 21 Years After His Death – 52 Ancestors #389

My wonderful cousin, Tom, found something that doesn’t relate to his family, but certainly relates to mine. Thank goodness he remembered that Michael McDowell is my ancestor.

Tom found this because John McDowell was married to Nancy Busick, a family he is researching.

This 1861 chancery suit in Hancock County, TN was related to land title and begins, here.

William Overton claims that he purchased 97 acres of land from William McDowell on March 20, 1846, but that McDowell did not have clear title to the land. Michael McDowell, the father of William McDowell had grants from the state of Tennessee for a portion of the land sold to Overton; specifically, a grant for 15 acres and one for 25 acres.

Three acres had previously been purchased of Michael McDowell and Overton says he paid Michael McDowell for those acres. That portion is not in dispute.

Overton claims that William McDowell never had title to the rest of the land that was previously owned by Michael McDowell, except as one of the heirs of Michael, his father. The suit complaint stated that Michael, who “died a good many years ago leaving a number of legitimate heirs so that William McDowell’s interest therein was only an undivided portion. He never had any conveyance from his father for the land.”

According to Overton’s court filing regarding the balance of the land, “William McDowell had once made an entry but never claimed the same out of the office and never procured the grant. Some time since William McDowell died, William Franklin McDowell is his executor and brought suit against complainant for the balance of the purchase price.” Overton had stopped paying the note to William McDowell because he didn’t have clear title. Thank goodness for title companies today.

Several depositions were included that indicate that this land had been in dispute for some time already and that the local court had failed to provide the hoped-for relief. Unfortunately, Hancock County’s records have burned, twice. It’s nothing short of amazing that the chancery records survived.

Here’s a transcription of the pages that Tom found, downloaded and sent along to me. This is not the entire suit.

Transcription

In chancery at Sneedville. [Sneedville is the county seat of Hancock Count, TN.]

William D. Overton vs William F. McDowell

The deposition of John McDowell, a witness on behalf of respondent taken upon notice before me on the 17th day of August 1861 in presence of complainant and respondent’s agent.

The said John McDowell aged about 78 years being duly sworn deposes as follows.

Question 1 by respondent: Mr. McDowell please state how many children Michael McDowell had and also give the name of each child.

Answer: There was 8. Ned McDowell, Michael McDowell, John McDowell, Dolly Herrald, Lute McDowell, Nancy McDowell, William McDowell and Sally McDowell.

Question 2: State where Ned McDowell died and whether or not he left children and how many.

Answer: I think it has been about two years. He left some children but I don’t know how many. When he was out here last he had six children.

Question 3: State how long Michael McDowell Jr. has been dead, whether his children are dead or still living and whether his children left any descendants.

Answer: I can’t tell, but I think it has been 30 odd years and the last account I had from his children they were all dead, but don’t know that it is so. I don’t know whether his children left any descendants or not.

Question 4: Please state if you are the John McDowell you speak of as being one of the children of Michael McDowell Sr. and state your age.

Answer: I am and my age is about 78 years.

Question 5: State whether Dolly Herrold formerly Dolly McDowell is yet alive, how old she is, and state when her husband died. State when she was married to Mr. Harrell?

Answer: She is yet alive, she is about 75 or 6. I cannot tell when her husband died, but I supposed two years next October. The time of her marriage I can’t tell.

Question 6: State whether Lute McDowell is now dead and how long he has been dead, and state also whether he has left any children, giving the number, names and ages.

Answer: I understood he was dead but don’t know it to be true. He had children but I don’t know how many. They had a Syntha, William and John. The rest of their names I don’t know, nor none of their ages.

Question 7: State how long Nancy Bradford, formerly Nancy McDowell has been dead, when she was married to Bradford. State how many children she left and give the names and ages of each.

Answer: I cannot tell, she has been dead a good many years. Don’t recollect what time she was married. I know one of their children’s names, Michael. Don’t know the number nor their ages.

Question 8: State when Sally McDowell died and state whether she was ever married or had children.

Answer: I can’t say how long. She was never married nor had any children.

Question 9: State if the William McDowell mentioned in the pleading in this case as being the testator of William F. McDowell is the same person you speak of as being the son of Michael McDowell Sr. State when he died.

Answer: He is the son of Michael McDowell Sr. He died 3 or 4 years ago.

The depositions are hand-written by William McNiel.

The Survey

One additional item of interest in the chancery suit packet is the survey made in 1867 to sort this mess out.

Today, the aerial of this land looks like this.

The red pin is the McDowell family cemetery where many family members are buried, including John who testified in the deposition.

I cropped and rotated the survey so north is up.

The lands in dispute are the surveys that include the dotted lines. Michael owned more acreage than this during his lifetime, including most of the land in Slanting Misery. Son John obviously wound up owning the cemetery land.

Additionally, John had applied for his own grant in 1825 that included the tip of Slanting Misery adjacent his earlier grant.

Ironically, I have no idea of the outcome of this lawsuit. It was not contained in the packet, which is not unusual. For me, the important part was the historical information in the depositions.

How Does This Information Stack Up?

This was a bit surprising, because there are children of Michael listed that I didn’t know about, and also children who I was fairly certain existed, with names, that John doesn’t list.

I wrote about Michael here, here and here.

I wrote about his wife, Isabel, whose surname is unknown, here.

Let’s compare information.

John’s Deposition Information I Had (Incomplete)
Ned McDowell died circa 1859 – at least 6 children Edward McDowell 1773-1858 Pulaski Co., KY – 12 children
Michael McDowell Jr. died before 1830, children decd by 1861 Michael McDowell born before 1774 – 3 children
John McDowell – gave deposition John McDowell May 10, 1783 – Nov 17, 1877, 11 children
Dolly McDowell Herrald – born 1785/86 – living in 1861, husband died c 1859 Mary McDowell 1785-aft 1872 married William Harrell – 6 children
Lute McDowell – believe dead, had more than 3 children, remembers Syntha, William, John Luke McDowell 1791/2-1879 Dekalb Co., TN – 5 children
Nancy McDowell – deceased several years, multiple children but only one name recalled – Michael Nancy McDowell c 1795-1850/60 DeKalb Co., TN married Thomas Bradford – 8 children
William McDowell – died 1857-1858, at least one son William Franklin McDowell William McDowell 1795-1857/8 Hancock Co. TN – 1 known child
Sally McDowell – never married, no children
James McDowell – born circa 1779 – died circa 1831 Pulaski Co., KY
Nathan S. McDowell born 1797 – no known children
Elizabeth Caroline McDowell born 1789 married John Boyle in 1822 in Wilkes County, NC

I’m presuming here that Ned and Edward are the same person.

James McDowell is found in Wilkes County, NC, in 1801 and a James is found with Edward in Pulaski County, KY in 1820. The James who witnessed the deed in 1801 would have been born in 1779 or earlier. He may or may not have had any connection to Michael.

In 1820, that James is too old to be a son of Edward, so I have no idea who he is or how he connects. These may be two different men. It makes me wonder if perhaps Michael was raising other McDowell children, like maybe nephews. Clearly, John knew without question who his siblings were.

Michael McDowell granted a deed to “W” McDowell and “S” McDowell in 1833 “for love.” No one knew about Sally whose name was probably Sarah before this deposition, and since Nathan’s middle initial was S., it was widely accepted that the “S” who received the land was Nathan. This deposition has caused me to reevaluate that assumption, and at this point, I believe that the “S” was Sally and the “W” was William. Michael, who would have been 86 years old in 1833, was trying to take care of his children, and in particular, his daughter who had never married and would have been about 44 years old. Sally was apparently deceased by 1850 because she is not recorded in the census.

There is no other connection between Nathan and Michael, so it’s certainly possible that Nathan was a descendant of the “other” McDowell Family out of Virginia. He may have circumstantially wound up in Claiborne County.

There is also a John P. McDowell that is associated with Michael McDowell who was born about 1802. It’s unlikely that he belonged to Michael and Isabel, especially since we know that John McDowell is Michael’s son, but he could have been another nephew or a grandson.

I believe Elizabeth Caroline McDowell who married John Boyle in 1822 was simply misattributed as Michael’s child based on the Wilkes County connection. Michael McDowell was not living in Wilkes County in 1822, so it’s very unlikely that his daughter would be marrying there a dozen years after he left. It’s possible that Elizabeth Caroline is somehow connected to the James McDowell in Wilkes County.

Thanks to this deposition, we know which children were Michael’s and which were not.

Commentary

I’m rather stunned that John gave an approximate age of 78, twice, and not an exact age. Did he not recall? I do realize that ages were much less specific in that time and place. Perhaps people didn’t celebrate birthdays within families. A few months earlier in April 1861, John gave his age as 71 and signed as to his age.

John’s not alone though, because I’ve seen people giving approximate ages for themselves, and, like John, different ages at different times in historical documents. Not much was written down back then. If they didn’t have a family Bible, or it burned, those dates were probably not recorded anyplace and they relied on the “best of their recollection.”

I’m even more surprised that John didn’t know if his siblings were deceased. This also means that my ancestor, Mary McDowell Harrell, whom John called Dolly, also wouldn’t have known for sure if her siblings were deceased. I had presumed that a letter would have been written when someone’s child, or sibling, died, and that everyone back home would have quickly shared the news when the letter arrived. This makes me wonder why that didn’t happen.

In a deposition for Mary McDowell Harrell in 1872, when he says that he is 90 years old, John stated that he was at her wedding in Wilkes County, NC. He gave an approximate marriage date for her of 1809 based on the fact that they left Wilkes County (for Claiborne) in 1810 and they were married about a year before that departure. He didn’t mention that in the 1861 deposition.

We do know that Ned, who was actually Edward, came back to visit according to John. That trip, from Pulaski Co., KY, would have been about 120 miles, so about a 6-day journey each way on horseback. He clearly wouldn’t have returned home often, and it’s unlikely that his family came along, especially given that his wife was not from the Claiborne/Hancock County region. A wagon trip would have taken even longer.

I’m surprised that John only knew the names of four of his nieces and nephews – one of Nancy’s sons who was named after Michael McDowell, and three of Lute’s children, whose name was actually Luke.

I’m guessing that John did know the names of Mary’s children because she and her husband William Harrell were neighbors to Michael McDowell and therefore to her brother John, and William McDowell’s land as well.

Unfortunately, John was not asked about William McDowell’s children. It was probably assumed that topic was taken care of since Overton had sued William’s son.

Based on the census and where John McDowell is buried, in the McDowell family cemetery on Michael’s land, it appears that John lived on at least part of Michael’s original land.

It’s ironic that we only have the name of one of William McDowell’s children, William Franklin McDowell, the man who was suing to collect the balance of the money for the land that his father, William, apparently sold but did not have title to.

Obviously, Mary McDowell’s nickname was Dolly, but never have I seen it recorded as such anyplace. Normally the nickname for Mary is Polly, but unless John was wrong or misunderstood, hers was Dolly. Clearly, in the intervening years since her death in 1859, her descendants living a hundred years later didn’t know her name. The last of her great-grandchildren’s generation was dying by the mid-1900s and many families had moved away. My grandmother died in Chicago in 1955.

I don’t think there was anyone who knew any stories about Mary/Dolly or her life, or even the names of ancestors three or four generations back in time. We found her through genealogical records, not oral or written history. I began doing genealogy in the 1970s and there was no one who knew anything about those people or generations that far back. Not even the nickname the family called her. Ironic that I’ve been calling her Mary as long as I’ve known about her, but her nickname, and the name she was called every day was very clearly Dolly. I can’t help but wonder if she’s breathing a sigh of relief someplace that we finally know her by her everyday familiar name. Or maybe she’s still frustrated because it was actually Polly.

The existence of Michael’s daughter, Sally McDowell was a surprise too. Before the age of detailed census records listing the names of every family member, the only hint as to the existence of a child who never married and never lived on their own would have been a mystery hash-mark entry in the 1790-1840 census for an unknown child, or perhaps a will. Michael had no will and while William McDowell was appointed as his estate administrator, no inventory was ever filed in court. Clearly something was very strange about Michael’s estate and the fact that the court failed to oversee the process. Perhaps this fell between the cracks when Hancock County separated from Claiborne, but that process didn’t begin for another couple years.

Sally is clearly gone by 1850 and I can’t locate her with any of her three local siblings in 1840, so she may well have been deceased by that point in time.

In the 1800 census, Michael McDowell has three daughters which accounts for all three female siblings that John named.

In the 1790 census, Michael has 4 males under 16, so born between 1774 and 1790. In 1800, he has only two boys under 10 who would not have been born in 1790. What happened to the rest of those boys on the 1790 census? We know from later records that at least 3 of 4 didn’t die. We know for sure that Edward, Michael and John were born in the 1780s. Luke and William were both born in the 1790s. That still leaves one missing son born in the 1780s, which we thought was James – but all of the boys born in the 1780s are missing in the 1790 census. No wonder genealogists are so chronically confused.

Additional Records

For those researching the John McDowell family, additional records can be found in the following references:

  • Coleman vs John McDowell – land 1888 & 1890

https://www.familysearch.org/ark:/61903/3:1:3Q9M-C3QN-J875?i=17&cat=1104143

  • John McDowell – debt 1888

https://www.familysearch.org/ark:/61903/3:1:3Q9M-C3QN-J8W3?i=28&cat=1104143

  • John McDowell vs G. B. Short et al 1878 and 1880, answer, order, estate
  • John McDowell vs Josiah Ramsay 1890 debt

https://www.familysearch.org/ark:/61903/3:1:3Q9M-C3QN-J895?i=51&cat=1104143

  • Catherine Short vs John McDowell 1881, 1882, 1888 civil suit and land

https://www.familysearch.org/ark:/61903/3:1:3Q9M-C3QN-J835?i=67&cat=1104143

____________________________________________________________

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