Capt. John Dobkins Jr. (c 1710 – c 1788): One Rugged Frontiersman – 52 Ancestors #376

We know nothing about John Dobkins Jr. between his birth and when we first find his father, John Dobkins Sr. in Orange County, Virginia in 1735 when he received a bond from Benjamin Borden for a patent on 150 acres in the Borden Grant.

Borden, a land speculator, had moved to this area by April 1734 and received a patent on October 3, 1734 for the area including Smith’s Creek, where John Dobkins Sr. settled.

Borden also received 100,000 acres along the branches of the James River in the upper part of the Shenandoah Valley from the Governor’s council in May of 1735.

This is noteworthy because Borden’s land was supposed to be south of the Beverly grant, outside of the area claimed by Lord Fairfax. The fact that Borden is guaranteeing John a good title tells us that his land should be south of what would become known as the Fairfax line. This is an obscure, but important piece of data that we will eventually need to locate John Dobkins Sr.’s land.

John Dobkins’s surname was sometimes written Dobikins, Dobbins, and other sound-alike derivatives.

Clearly, his son, John Jr., probably born about 1710, was with him when he arrived. The Dobkins family was one of the first 50 families to settle west of the Blue Ridge, or anyplace in the Shenandoah Valley, for that matter.

In the book, The Dobkins Family in America by Cecil B. Smyth Jr., Cecil tells us that in 1730 Jost Hite and Robert McKay advertised to residents of the Philadelphia, PA area that land was available for settlement west of the Blue Ridge Mountains in the Northern Neck of Virginia. They had obtained grants of 40,000 and 100,000 acres. Among the takers was John Dobkins Sr. and his wife, Mary.

According to Smythe, John Dobkins settled in what was Orange County, VA in 1731 or 1732, although I can’t find anything before 1735. The first settlers did arrive at that time, but additional groups from other areas, including the Scots-Irish, Quakers, Germans, and other protestant groups arrived over the next couple of years too. This part of Orange County would later divide into Augusta and Frederick County.

However, there were no courts opened in Frederick County before 1743 nor in Augusta before 1745. Records for Frederick and Augusta counties were recorded in Orange County until 1743. The area that became Shenandoah County was part of Augusta and Frederick counties from 1738 to 1753. In 1753, the line dividing those counties was moved up the Valley and made identical with the Fairfax line. In 1772, Dunmore County was established from Frederick and in 1778 was renamed to Shenandoah County. Yes, land division and county formation on the western waters was much like sausage-making. Messy.

Found in Pioneers of Old Frederick County, VA by Cecil O’Dell.

John Dobikin Sr. (b 1685 c) received a bond from Benjamin Borden on 24 September 1735 for ‘150 pounds Sterling to make patent in full and ample manner as the King gives me” on 150 acres, part of Benjamin Borden’s 3.300 acre tract. The 6 January 1735/36 Morgan Morgan/Peter Woolf census listed John Sr. as a settler on the McKay, Hite, Duff and Green 100,000 acre Colony of Virginia grant land.

Traveling Ministers

In the early frontier settlements, circuit-riding ministers were quite welcome. They provided religious services and brought news from the outside world. Maybe even letters from family members. Without churches, baptisms couldn’t be performed, and funerals were clearly handled locally by someone saying a few words over the casket of the deceased.

One of the earliest, if not the earliest minister to travel to the Shenandoah Vannoy to service the founding families was the German immigrant, Lutheran Reverend John Stoever.

Fortunately, he recorded the location of the baptisms as he traveled from place to place.

His first recorded Shenandoah baptisms were performed on March 31, 1735 when he baptized numerous babies and children. Some had been born as early as 1727, but most were born in the 1730s.

Many families had several children in need of baptism. They probably hadn’t seen a minister, or heard a sermon in a long time.

Children

The year after John Dobikins Sr. received his grant, his son, John Jr. and daughter-in-law, Elizabeth, gave birth to their son, Thomas, who was baptized when Reverend Stoever came to preach.

Baptism Records of Rev. John Stoever

  • John Dawbin (Shenandoah.) – Dawbin, Thomas, b. Nov. 8, 1736; bap. June 8, 1737. Teste: James Gill

John Dawbin and his wife Elizabeth also witnessed the following baptisms, children of James Guill:

  • John Dawbin testis, June 8, 1737, baptism of Thomas Guill, son of James.
  • Elizabeth Dawbin, testis, June 8, 1737, baptism of James Guill, son of James.

Years later, in 1753, one Thomas Dobekin was a chain carrier on Stoney Creek, on land adjoining John Dobekin. He would have been 17.

That was the last mention of Thomas, so he seems to have disappeared, leaving no breadcrumbs behind.

In the book, Tinkling Springs and Her Families, we discover the Presbyterian Reverend John Craig’s record of baptisms from 1740-1749:

John Dobbins children Jean and John both on March 6, 1741, at Rockfish, a settlement and meeting house east of the Blue Ridge and 15 miles SE of Tinkling Spring.

The fact that two children were baptized at the same time suggests that the church was far away. And indeed, it was.

Looking at Google maps, the closest church to John Dobkins Sr.’s home was actually Tinkling Springs, not Rockfish. It was even 9 miles further to where John Dobkins Jr. lived in the mid-1740s, which makes me wonder if the minister might have gone into the “backcountry” settlement preaching and baptizing children.

No additional Dobkins children were baptized, ever, in this church, nor do we find additional baptism records for this family by Stoever who was in Shenandoah again on May 1, 1739, performing baptisms.

This would suggest that at least one child was born, and died, in the intervening years.

While normally finding a Presbyterian baptism would suggest a Scots-Irish family, I’m not so sure this time. In the backcountry during this timeframe, there were no other churches. As one of my Brethren cousins who is a minister says of frontier families – “people attended the church of opportunity.”

We know from these records that by 1741, John Jr. had at least three children. Thomas, John, a son named for himself (and his father,) and a daughter named Jean. We find Thomas mentioned one more time. Nothing more about Jean.

We don’t find John unless the John who is found on the next frontier with John Jr.’s other children in 1787 is actually his son, John. There is no marriage record for John, but there is a hint from the Johnson family descendants who had recorded the marriages of both Darcus and Margaret Johnson to Dobkins boys. That family reported that a third daughter of Peter Johnson and Mary Polly Philips, Rachel, may have married a John Dobkins. Researchers had discounted that, in part, because, before finding the baptismal record for John Dobkins (the third) in 1741, no one knew he existed.

We know that John Dobkins Jr. did have other children:

  • Reuben was probably born in the 1740s
  • Jacob was born in 1751
  • Evan was probably born in the 1740s or early 1750s
  • Rebecca was probably born before 1763. She married Patrick Shields in 1783, but we know nothing further.

John Dobkins Jr.

Several trees show John Dobkins Jr.’s wife, Elizabeth, as a Moore. There is no evidence for this, and I suspect that assumption occurred because John Dobkins lived next to and sold his land to Thomas Moor.

That’s backwards though, because normally it’s the father-in-law who sells to the son-in-law.

We know that John was married by 1735, and it’s not unlikely that he married before arriving on the frontier with his father.

I found nothing to indicate that John Dobkins’ wife was a Moore, although there’s nothing to preclude it either.

Early Records

Prior to 1746, when the older John Dobkins died, it’s sometimes difficult to tell which John Dobkins is being referenced. The John Dobbins in the following record could have been either father or son.

  • Pages 234-37. 23-24 Sept. 1741. William Beverley, Esq., of Essex County to Samuel Doeg (Doak) of Orange County. Lease and release; for ₤20 current money. 647 acres in Beverley Mannor… corner to John Mitchell… Alexr. Brackenridge’s line… Pat. Campbell’s line… (signed) W. Beverley. Wit: Francis Beatty, Patrick Hays, John Dobbins. 25 Sept. 1741. Acknowledged by Wm. Beverley, Esq. [Orange County Virginia Deed Book 6, Dorman, pg. 32].

Military Service

The next record of John Dobkins, is a 1742 military record, which clearly seems to be John Dobkins Jr.

Cecil tells us that each Virginia County appointed a county militia Lieutenant who functioned as the militia commander and was responsible for organizing and maintaining the county militia. The militia was made up of volunteers who were responsible for protecting and defending the local residents, particularly in the event of an Indian attack.

Local militias were called upon during the French and Indian War (1754-1763,)  Dunmore’s War in 1774, and the Revolutionary War (1775-1783). All was not peaceful on the frontier.

By 1742, John Dobkins was Captain of the Augusta County militia which means he is a fully functional, responsible adult capable of organizing and leading other men. If he were baptized in 1741 as an adult, he would not have been noted as the child of his father.

It’s worth noting that there is one John Johnson in John Dobin’s 1742 militia Company 6.

In 1743, John Dobbin is listed on the Militia Roll as the Lieutenant of Horse in Orange County.

He probably moved from his father’s land in Augusta County to his claim further west on Holman Creek in Orange County between 1742 and 1743.

Based on the fact that the militia references where John is being referred to as “Capt.” continue uninterrupted between the time John Dobkins Sr. wrote his will, until and after his death. It would appear that the John Dobkins in the militia was John Jr.

Of course, it’s possible that the 1742 entry is for John Sr. and the 1743 entry is for John Jr.

A court-martial was held on January 15, 1745 and John Dobins was present.

Later that year he is listed as a Captain of Horse and is present at another court martial on September 11th.

On September 3, 1746, another court martial was held, but Capt. John Dobin was fined for not attending the general muster and the court martial.

This unquestionably tells us that the man serving in the militia is John Jr., because his father’s estate was probated in May of 1746.

On September 2, 1747, John attended another Court Martial.

Settling in the Shenandoah Valley Wilderness

When John and his father first arrived in Orange County, the family settled very near New Market, not far from where Holman Creek dumps into the North Fork of the Shenandoah River. John Dobkins Sr. lived just south of the county line that would one day divide Frederick and Augusta Counties.

Augusta was formed in 1738 from Orange County and Frederick County was formed from Orange in 1738, but not officially organized until 1743.

John Dobkins Sr. lived near the red arrow in the lower right. The Fairfax dividing line between Augusta County and Frederick County is found (approximately) in a straight line drawn between the purple arrows.

John Dobkins Jr. lived near the red arrow in the upper left-hand corner.

The green arrows point to the path of Holman’s Creek from its headwaters near the purple arrow on the left, to its intersection with the North Shenandoah River near Interstate 81.

We know that by 1746, when his father died, John Jr. was not living on the same land as his father. At some point, John Jr. had moved 9 or 10 miles further west, on Holman Creek.

We know where John Dobkins Jr. lived based on the survey of the Fairfax line which formed the border between Augusta and Orange County, then between Augusta and Frederick County when Frederick split from Orange in 1743.

Come along on a surveying trip. You’re in for a big surprise!

The Fairfax Line

When the Fairfax grant was surveyed and mapped in 1736, the connection between the Rappahannock with the head springs of the Potomac was not surveyed, so the question of where that boundary should actually be located was hotly disputed. The Fairfax grant was massive, the size of the rest of Virginia, which of course, at that time, included what would become West Virginia.

The dispute didn’t end with the survey though. In fact, it’s thanks to a later lawsuit that we have the surveyor’s journal. The journal was used as evidence in the Supreme Court case, State of Maryland vs the State of West Virginia, filed in 1891, to settle that dispute once and for all. The lawyer, George Price, of West Virginia, who submitted that journal as evidence returned it to the surveyor’s descendants in 1910, at the conclusion of the case, documenting why he was in possession of the journal in the first place.

Beginning in September of 1746, surveyors were contracted to establish the Fairfax line, the southern border of Lord Fairfax’s land to establish the limits of the Northern Neck Land Grant, also known as the Fairfax Grant, consisting of over 5 million acres. Surveyors were Peter Jefferson, father of the future President Jefferson, along with Thomas Lewis who, fortuitously, kept a journal, which has been transcribed, here.

This 1751 portion of the Fry-Jefferson map shows the Fairfax Boundary line, along with Smith’s Creek and the Indian Road, also known as the Great Indian Warpath, by which the settlers arrived. This would become known as the Great Waggon Road to Philadelphia as well as the Carolina Road.

Eventually, millions of settlers would seek their fortunes along this road, turning off onto capillaries and settling along streams, but that was still in the future. John Dobkins was among the first, brave, or maybe foolhardy, fifty families to try their luck in the backcountry. One massacre, and they would all be dead and entirely lost to history.

The history of the Wagon Road had yet to be written. When John set eyes upon it, they could only have used pack horses because it was just a rugged Indian trail, impassable to wagons.

The 1746 Fairfax survey extended from the head of the Rappahannock to the head of the Potomac, as was written on the outside of Lewis’s journal. The journal was 3.5 inches wide and 5.5 inches tall, and he faithfully recorded the day’s activities in a quill pen

By Monday, Sept 29th, they were having problems crossing the Blue Ridge. He noted that, “it being impossible to take our horses over the Peaked Mountain, they were sent over Masenuten Gap with the commissioner and baggage. Mr. Brook and I went up to where we left off on Saturday.”

The author who lived in New Market transcribed and published the journal, and placed notes at the bottom of the page. This note says that Peaked Mountain is between McGaheysville and Kezeltown.

The surveyors had sent their baggage train a different way with the idea that they would meet up again in Shenandoah Valley.

On October 1, (page 19 in the printed booklet) John Lewis penned this entry in his journal:

Wednesday, October 1st – Set forward with our baggage in order to overtake
Colo. Jefferson and Capt Winslo. We did about 2 o’clock at John Dobins.

Their notes for Tuesday:

216 pole X (X=cross) Smith Creek runs to Rt.
429 X ye Indian Road
810 X ye North Branch of Shanando
1600 poles a pine marked
21 miles

The author’s note at the bottom of the page states that “this first line crossed from Smith’s Creek to the North Shenandoah River exactly where new Market now stands. The Indian Road is the forerunner of the Valley Turnpike.”

Wensday worke and from the marked pine
206 poles Masunuten Gap Bears S 60 E
960 poles a tree marked 24 miles in Dobins cornfield
1000 total for this day.

We encamped in Dobins meadow
Raind in the evining

We know that John was raising corn and had a meadow. We also know that the Fairfax line ran through John’s land.

John’s house and the Armentrout Mill are located at the red arrow. You can see meadowlands and a substantial field, today. That just might have been John’s cornfield.

I believe that Massanutten Gap is actually known as New Market Gap in the Massanutten Mountain, today. You can watch a beautiful drone video, here.

Surveying was not for the faint of heart. Lewis reports that several horses were killed, falling over rocks and “precipes” in a place called Purgatory. He also mentions that Col. Fairfax turned back at the 1000 pole mark, unable to undergo the fatigue of the journey. Two days later, he says that they had to press forward because the horses were starving and their provisions were not sufficient for themselves.

Two days later, on the 5th, Lewis tells of the horrible conditions in the mountains and that both horses and men were injured with broken bones. On the 6th, he reported that the horses had had nothing to eat since they had left Dobins four days earlier.

Lewis tracks the miles they have surveyed from the origination point.

A few days later, he notes that “the mountains prodigiously full of fallen timber and ivey as thick as it could grow – so interwoven that horse or man could hardly force his way through it.”

A day or two later, at the Styx River, he records:

The appearance is so dismal as to strike terror into the heart of any human creature. Ye lorals, ivey and spruce pine so extremely thick in ye swamp through which this river runs that one cannot have the least prospect except they look upwards. The water of the river dark brownish, cooler and its motion so slow that it can hardly be said to move. Deep about 4 feet and the bottom muddy and banks high which made it extremely difficult for us to pass the most of the horses when they attempted to ascend the farthest bank tumbling with their loads back in the river. Most of our baggage that would have been damaged by the water were brought over on men’s shoulders such as powder, bread and bedclothes and c. There was not a place big enough for one man to lye on, no fire wood except green or rotten spruce pine and no place for our horses to feed. To prevent them from being poisoned by eating of loral we tyd them all up.

Then, at 68 miles on the 15th. Lewis pens:

Never was the Elysian fields more welcome to a departed soul than this place – if I may be allowed the expression was to us. I wish it were possible for me to give a just description of this place that might others judge was reason we who were engaged in this affair have to say so.

The Swamp, (which is very uncommon in places of ye kind) is prodigiously full of rocks and cavitys whose covered over with a very luxuriant kind of moss of a considerable depth. The fallen trees of which there was great numbers and naturally large were vastly improved in bulk with their coats of moss. The spruce pines of which on all sides there are great plenty their roots grown out from the trunk a considerable height above the surface, covered over and joyned together in such a manner as makes their roots appear like semie globs. The loral and ivey as thick as they can well grow whose branches growing of an extraordinary length are so well woven together that without cutting away it would be impossible to force through them provided they grew on a good even surface, their roots together with the pines are spread over the rocks and under the moss like arches. In what danger must we be, in such a place all dangerous places being obscured under a clock of moss such thickets of loral to struggle with those branches are almost as obstinate as if composed of iron. Our horses and often ourselves fell into clefts and cavities with out seeing the danger before we felt the effects of it. No ones misfortune was of much to service the others, for in striving to evade a seen dangerous or bad place often fell into a worse. Frequently we had the roots to cut and the rocks to break to free our horses of which 4 or 5 might have been engaged at a time.

The next day, he reported that they “lay by” in order to rest because they are much fatigued and crippled.

On the 17th, they encountered another laurel swamp so difficult they were afraid of not being able to get out.

On the 19th, they were lost and discouraged, thinking themselves too far west, but they were actually too far east.

On the 20th, the men took a break to hunt and to see if they could find the head of the Potomac. The boundary line was supposed to have been run ten years earlier, in 1736, but the author of the pamphlet penned a footnote indicating that they think that the 1736 line was not run. The men heard guns in the distance which they believed to be Indians.

In case you’re wondering why on earth anyone would want to homestead there, his entry on the 21st is enlightening.

The land or soil on the NW side of the river is black and very moist a great many small springs and ouzey places and pretty stoney and hilly. Exceedingly well timbered with such as very large spruce pines, great multitudes of Beach and Shugartrees, Cherry trees the most and finest I ever saw. Some 3 or 4 foot diameter thirty or forty foot without a branches. Some few Oaks, Chesnuts and Locusts though not many.

On Thursday, the 23rd, they created the Fairfax Stone by engraving their initials and the year, dined on a venison loin, and drank to his Majesty’s health. The stone still existed in 1859, but was described as “indescript sandstone, shapeless and would scarce attract the attention of a passerby.” It was destroyed in 1883.

The surveyors turned around and began their way back, still surveying. A second line was surveyed to check the first line.

Peter Jefferson was “very much indisposed,” even though he had been described as being one of the “strongest men of this country.”

Monday, the 13th:

Never was any poor creatures in such a condition as we were in nor ever was a criminal more glad by having made his escape out of prison as we were to get rid of those accursed lorals.

Lewis continues to describe the swamp again as twice as bad as the Styx, with horses sometimes tumbling in places out of sight.

Then:

Mr. Brook was taken very ill with a dizziness in his head and fainting in the middle of the swamp which we had reason to fear would have been his sepulcher.

A couple of days later, the men camped at a settler’s house and were eating, drinking, gambling, and having fun.

By this time, it would have been getting cold. They celebrated the King’s birthday, then set out on November 1st.

By November 3rd, they reported being on the top of what is interpreted to be Shenandoah Mountain, and out of water.

On November 4th, they had to let their horses ramble to find food, and they could not find them. So they left a man to hunt for the missing horses and told him to meet them at Dobins.

On November 6th, they made their way back to John Dobkins place.

Lewis’s entries continue later:

1060 pole marked a Dogwood 47 miles
1380 pole marked a Chesnut Oak 48 miles on the side of Black Jack Hill
1700 pole a white oak marked 49 miles by a branch
2020 pole a pink marked 50 miles
2340 poles a black oak marked 51 miles

2580 pole X the head of Holmans Creek. Run to the left down to Dobins hear we left off and road down to Dobins here we met with Mr. Brook who had been with the commissioners round by Wests Gap and then left them on the road. We pitched our camp by Dobins field and had the liberty of his meadow for our horses.

That meadow, either John’s or nearby, above, probably doesn’t look a lot different today.

Friday, November 7th:

Went to where we left off the day before.
Thence 80 poles marked a hiccory 52 miles.
Hear we stopt thinking proper to measure the distance between the two lines the course N 44E 460 poles to the old line a little to the NW of Dobkins house.
Then returned to camp.

A pole is 16.5 feet, so 44 poles would be 726 feet and  460 poles would be 7590 feet.

The good news is that because they traversed and measured twice, coming and going, we have two descriptions of where John Dobkins land was located.

Today, this is the Fairfax line on North Mountain Road, not far from John Dobkins house.  Holman’s Creek is running parallel to the right, and the present-day St. Luke’s United Church-Christ cemetery is visible on the left.

Additionally, a later land survey references John’s land as being near the head of Holman’s Creek.

Saturday the 8th:

Beginning at the end of 80 pole run the day before (which is the head of Holman’s Creek), thence
320 pole a red oak marked 53 miles
640 pole a white oak marked 54 miles
960 a black oak on the east side of Timber Ridge marked 55 miles
1280 pole a pine marked 56 miles
1600 pole a pine marked 57 miles
1788 pole X the north branch of the Shanando a pine on the NW side marked Fx the River Bears up N 80 down ye contrary
1920 pole a pink marked 58 miles
2240 a hiccory marked 59 miles
2266 X the Indian Road
2560 a read oak marked 60 miles
2620 X Smith Creek and left off

By the 13th, they were back at the beginning point, fired off a “discharge of 9 guns” and drank to the health of “his majesty & L. Farfax.”

They had missed the original mark by 100 yards, or 300 feet, in a distance of 76.5 miles, which was pretty amazing, especially considering the extremely challenging terrain and the equipment of the time.

The next day, Lewis noted they had “sider and apples which now was become expence. A great novelty.”

A day or so later, they discharged the men and auctioned off the horses and tents. I’m sure the settlers were glad to purchase them.

By the 19th, Lewis reported 4 inches of snow. That entire trip had to be rather cold and miserable, especially because the men were wet so much of the time in rivers and swamps.

This survey, indeed, confirms the location of John Dobkins’ land, on or near the Fairfax line, on or near Holman’s creek, and about 7 or 8 miles west of the Indian Road, which is US11 today.

As difficult as this trip was for the surveyors, remember that John Dobkins, and his father, John Sr. had carved homesteads and a life out of this wilderness more than a decade earlier. Wine tells us in his book that some of the lands were prairie tracts, having been burned over by the Indians every year, but the land along Holman’s Creek was forested and had to be cleared.

The first settlers were free to choose their own land, and as much as they could actually use.

I’m so grateful for Lewis’s journal that painted such a vivid picture of early life in the mountains for posterity.

Holman’s Creek

At some point, probably between 1742 and 1743, John Dobkins Jr. moved onto land of his own, where the surveyors found his home. He moved further west on Holman’s Creek with his young family.

The land granted to John Dobkins (Jr) in 1750 is shown at left. Holman Creek is tracked with the red arrows, and Smith Creek is shown at far right. This path is at least 6 miles as the crow flies, and more along any road or path. I wonder how often John Jr. was able to see his parents.

John Dobkins Sr. left his land to his wife when he wrote his will in 1743, and she, along with John Jr. were his executors in 1746 when he died. For a long time, researchers presumed that the land owned by John Dobkins Jr. was the same land owned by John Dobkins Sr., especially since we don’t find a sale of John Sr.’s land, nor a death of Mary. I have no idea what happened to his land, or when. Perhaps tracking current deeds back in time would reveal that story.

Life Along Holman’s Creek

In the book, Life Along Holman’s Creek, we find that Capt. John Dobkins is noted as one of the first settlers in the area and was granted title to 400 acres on August 2, 1750.

This John Dobkins is clearly not John Dobkins Sr. who died in 1746.

Jost Hite was instrumental in settling the Borden Grant in the 1730s. We find Jost Hite in the southern Pennsylvania and northern Maryland region, on the border area north of Hagerstown recruiting fellow German settlers.

While the initial 50 settlers brought by Hite did not appear to be heavily German, John Dobkins Jr.’s land on Holman Creek was surrounded by numerous Germans, many of whom were Brethren and migrated from Frederick County, Maryland on the Pennsylvania border. I recognize many names associated with my Mueller (Miller) family line. In fact, one of my ancestor’s sons, Lodowich Mueller (Miller) settled here, along with many associated families.

In fact, the Miller and Wine families were baptized in Holman Creek, between Moore’s Store where John Dobkins owned land, and Forestville. J. D. Wine, a Mueller (Miller) descendant would come to own the favorite local swimming hole, where the women would modestly swim upstream from the men in hot weather. Those adventures were still decades in the future when John Dobkins carved a homestead out of the wilderness along Holman Creek.

Once that stream of immigration down the valley began, it never ended – increasing after the French and Indian War, Dunmore’s War, and again during and after the Revolutionary War when Lodowick Mueller arrived from Frederick County, Maryland accompanied by his daughter, Susannah, and son-in-law, Michael Wine. Pietists like the Brethren were penalized for their refusal to serve in the militia, or military, so many “escaped” to the less-organized frontier. That and the lure of land were powerful motivators.

John Dobkins’s land is marked with the red star. His direct neighbors included both the Zirkle/Circle and Miller families. Brethren families include Miller, Zirkle, Myer, Garber, Fry and Wine. Many other German families are also found in this neighborhood, and most of the early deeds and wills are signed in German script.

The southeast corner of John’s tract later became the village of Moore’s Store, specifically the area where John Dobkins lived which is now an orchard.

Apparently, apples were being raised in this area back in 1746 too, given that the surveyors were enjoying apples and cider. This is John’s land today. I wonder if he planted fruit trees when he first cleared this land.

The second page, below, attaches to the right of the map above.

On this page, the Wine family cemetery is located on the original Jacob Holeman land. In addition to the Brethren families, there is also a Quaker Church. These families, by and large, do not appear to be Scots-Irish, which is part of why I question that statement about John Dobkins.

Cecil Smythe located John Dobkins land, and even though all I has was a horrible black and white, meaning mostly black, copy of a bad copy of a picture in the copy I had of his book, I found the house on Google maps based on his description of the house and the fact that Holman Creek was nearby, literally “across the way” at Moore’s Store. I could see “just enough” of that poor quality photo. Thanks Cecil.

I love approaching his house, at right, on this timeless old road. The homes built back then weren’t constructed planning for roads as we know them. They were built along animal and Indian paths, following streams, near fresh, uncontaminated water.

Cecil stated that later owners added the second half-story and the red bricks on the original stone fireplace on the log cabin that John Dobkins built on the land where he lived in the 1740s and early 1750s.

I wish we could see the interior and the original logs.

Across the road, we see the Armentrout Mill, a beautiful historic landmark. Was it built when John lived here? John sold this land to Thomas Moore, and we know that Moore’s son Peter ran the mill, but we don’t know when this stone house was built.

The original cabin is on the right in this photo.

John Dobkins’ home backed up to Holman Creek. All early cabins needed easy access to water.

Thomas Moore purchased this land from John Dobkins in 1753, which remained in his family for the next 200 years according to Wine.

Based on the reconstructed neighborhood in the Wine book, this is approximately where John Dobkins land was located. The Wine book does not show the county boundary through John’s land. The surveyors corrected for a surveying error in this vicinity though.

The address, if you want to take a look on Google maps, is 3912 Flat Rock Road, Quicksburg, VA, at the tiny crossroads known as Moore’s Store.

Given that John Dobkins Jr.’s three children, Thomas, John and Jean were born between 1736 and 1741, they may have born right here.

John had at least three additional, and probably four more children. Son Reuben was probably born in the 1740s and Evin/Evan either in the 1740s or 1750s. Those boys probably were born here.

In 1751, John Sr.’s grandson, Jacob Dobkins was unquestionably born in this log cabin on Holman Creek.

Rebecca Dobkins was married in 1783, with John Dobkins as her surety, so she was likely born in the late 1750s.

Given that we know Elizabeth was pregnant in 1735, Rebecca would not have been born after 1757 or 1758, so she was probably born at their next home.

John Jr. was born wherever the family came from, but his children never knew any home other than the frontier – that is – until they struck out on their own for yet the next untamed frontier.

The Johnson Family

Jacob, my ancestor, would marry Dorcas/Darcus Johnson in March of 1775 in Shenandoah County before he served in the Revolutionary war.

Jacob’s brother, Evan married Margaret Johnson on January 30, 1775.

Both Johnson women were reported by Johnson family descendants to be the daughters of Peter Johnson/Johnston and Mary Polly Philips.

It’s very clear from many triangulated matches, and other evidence that Peter Johnson was indeed related to Dorcas and Margaret Johnson, believed to both be his daughters. Additionally, his family notes also recorded that it’s possible that Peter’s daughter, Rachel, married one John Dobkins. I have no evidence either way.

I’m mentioning this at this point, because somehow, these families met. Using the FAN (friends and neighbors) principle, I’m particularly cognizant of any Johnson/Johnston that interacts with any Dobkins family member.

There is one Henry Johnston listed in the original 49 settlers, although he is not shown on the original grant map, or the 1770 map. But then again, neither is Jacob Dobkins although we assuredly know he received a land grant. Perhaps Henry Johnson lived near John Dobkins on those Borden Grant lands. I should work on Henry Johnson’s family history, if I can determine where he originated.

We know that Peter Johnson lived in Cumberland County, Pennsylvania, very near the border with Frederick County, Maryland, where some of the Monocacy settlers lived. Is that the connection? We also know that the Shenandoah Valley settlers came from the Lancaster County, PA area where Peter Johnson first settled.

Was Peter Johnson visiting family members in the Shenandoah Valley? Did he settle here for a short time around 1775 before moving on to Allegheny County, Pennsylvania? How did the Johnson girls meet and marry the Dobkins boys?

Let’s keep our eyes open for Johnson/Johnston connections.

What Else Do We Know About Capt. John Dobkins?

What was going on in the everyday life of John Dobkins aside from his militia duties, plowing fields, and harvesting crops?

  • In 1747, Zebbulon Harrison sued John Dobekin for debt. The writ was dated August 24, 1747, but the debt was from 1746. It’s worth noting that the Burr Harrison family, in 1770, lives on the X parcel that is missing from the original Beverly map. So, did Zeb sue his neighbor’s son, or did the Harrison family wind up with John Dobikin Sr.’s land?
  • May 21, 1747 – Road ordered from Fork of the New Road, near Jumping Run, or Colletts, to the Co. Ho., and John Dobikin, John Smith, Jacob Dye, Thomas Moore, and William Brown lay it off.
  • January 16, 1748 – John Dobikin executor for Rudal Brock’s will – son Frederick; son George, daughter Christiana Funkhouse, daughter, Julian Brock, daughter, Eve. Executors, John Dobikin and William James. Proved by Peter Gartner and John Bare, Proven Feb. 15, 1748
  • Feb 14, 1748 – John Dobikin executor bond
  • 15, 1748 – John Dobikin surety for Jonathan Cobourn’s bond as administrator of James Coburn.
  • December 23, 1748 – John Johnston’s will – wife, Hannah. Executors, wife and John Dobins, Proven May 17, 1749

Here’s another Johnson connection.

In the Northern Neck Land Grant book along with Chalkey’s Chronicles, we find:

  • May 17, 1749 – William Hill’s will – weaver; children Sarah, James, Mary, John, Joseph, Hannah, Rachel, Elizabeth; wife, Mary. Executors wife Mary and Thomas Moore. Proved by John Dobikin and Isaac Johnson. Proven May 17, 1749.

Who was Isaac Johnson? How is he connected?

  • July 13, 1749 – William James, of Smith Creek, will – yeoman; wife, Sarah, estate until eldest son Thomas James comes of age, Three sons, Thomas, Joshua, and Joseph. Executor wife and Thomas Moore, proven August 22, 1749.
  • July 21, 1749, Archibald Ruddle of Augusta County was granted 406 acres on Holman’s Creek adjoining Capt. John Dobkins and Peter Gartner. This land was surveyed on May 24, 1751.
  • February 27, 1750 – John Dobikin surety for Magdalene and Andrew Bird’s bond as admin of Andrew Bird.
  • August 2, 1750 – Capt. John Dobkin, of Augusta County was granted title to 400 acres of land on Holman’s Creek by Lord Fairfax, called Forest, probably because it was wooded.
  • March 13, 1751 – John Dobkin appraiser for Michael Rinhart’s inventory with Nicholas Seehorn, David Magit, and George Shuneman.
  • April 9, 1751 – John Dobikin surety for James Robinson’s will, yeoman – wife, Mary, and her daughters, two youngest sons, Isaac and Jonathan, son James, son David, 200 acres on Shanado River where he now lives. Exec wife Mary and son David. Proved by McDonal. Proved May 28, 1751.
  • May 24, 1751 – John Dobekins patented 406 acres on Holman’s Creek surveyed for John Dobikins.
  • August 22, 1751 – Henry Carson’s appraisement by John Dobikin, Adam Reader, and Alexander Painter.

The Fairfax line eventually became the line between Rockingham County, Virginia, and Hardy County, West Virginia.

I attempted to extend this line on the map. John Dobkins’ home on Holman Creek is shown with the red pin. I do know that the county boundary was adjusted “up the valley” a bit at one time to coincide with the Fairfax line. I also don’t know which line they used, the original or the second one surveyed on the way back.

Stoney Creek

In 1752 or 1753 John sold the four hundred six acres on Holman Creek to Thomas Moore and moved to land along Stoney Creek.

John was listed as Captain when he sold that land to Thomas Moore.

  • June 23, 1753 – John Dobikin, grantor, Elizabeth Dobikin, grantor’s wife, from Fairfax August 7, 1750, 400 acres on Holman’s Creek.
  • August 10, 1753 – Capt. John Dobkins is mentioned as an adjoining neighbor along with Peter Gartner in a grant to Archibald Ruddle and then Archibald to Stephen, delivered to Charles Hyleton or Styleton in October 1763.

In 1755 a deed dated January 3rd refers to land on the northwest side of Stoney Creek as being adjacent to John Dobkins.

  • A few days later, on May 5th, Burr Harrison Sr. of Prince William County received 200 acres on Stoney Creek in Frederick County surveyed for Henry Burge and plot returned by Robert Rutherford on January 3, 1755. Burge did not comply with order from office of [in] 1768. Adj John Dobekin. (See Book N)

These properties are listed, transcribed and mapped on Jeffrey La Favre’s map.

I’m incredibly grateful, once again, to Jeffrey La Favre whose ancestors lived near my McKee family in Washington County, Virginia, as well.

The two parcels BH200 and GC400 on the map both touch John Dobkins’ land, so his land must be WB400 which is 400 acres.

By the time John Dobkins moved to Stoney Creek, the French and Indian War was beginning in earnest.

French and Indian War 1752-1766

The French and Indian War started before and extended after the Seven Year’s War. This conflict pitted the English colonies against the French who were aided by the various Indian tribes. The French promised to honor the Native land rights and stop the European encroachment. The English, busting at the seams with 1.5 million settlers east of the Appalachian Mountains wanted their land. The French, with 70,000-80,000 settlers scattered through Canada and the Mississippi corridor wanted to convert the Native people to Catholicism.

By Pinpin – Own work from Image:Nouvelle-France1750.png1)Les Villes françaises du Nouveau Monde : des premiers fondateurs aux ingénieurs du roi, XVIe-XVIIIe siècles / sous la direction de Laurent Vidal et Emilie d’Orgeix /Éditeur: Paris: Somogy 1999.2) Canada-Québec 1534-2000/ Jacques Lacoursière, Jean Provencher et Denis Vaugeois/Éditeur: Sillery (Québec): Septentrion 2000.Map 1 ) (2008) The Forts of Ryan’s taint in Northeast America 1600-1763, Osprey Publishing, pp. 6– ISBN: 9781846032554.Map 2 ) René Chartrand (20 April 2010) The Forts of New France: The Great Lakes, the Plains and the Gulf Coast 1600-1763, Osprey Publishing, p. 7 ISBN: 9781846035043., CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3086036

This 1750 map shows the lands claimed by various entities in 1750. It’s no wonder that the Native people felt displaced. They were.

For the first 20 years or so after the first settlers arrived in the Shenandoah Valley, along Smith Creek, the settlers lived peacefully with the Indians, but that would change with the onset of the conflict.

Areas much further east, including Hagerstown and most of western Maryland and Pennsylvania were entirely depopulated during this war. The Indians had more to lose than anyone else and were extremely effective warriors against the scattered homesteads of the encroaching European settlers.

Raids in the Shenandoah Valley were vicious and brutal, but often undocumented. No one made a list of who died.

Dr. Patrick Murphey, author of Life on the Inner Frontier: The French and Indian War in the Shenandoah Valley presents enlightening information in this YouTube video.

We have very little information about the Shenandoah Valley residents during this time.

This war was one of guerilla warfare wherein the Indians appeared out of no place, stuck and killed, then vanished. Their goal was to terrorize the settlers into leaving. It didn’t work.

Everyone was terrified, clustered in homes serving as forts. The season named Indian Summer received its horrible nickname during this war. The settlers left the safety of the forts in the fall and winter, but that’s also when the Indians often struck, during the last warm spell before the frozen winter set in.

I will never hear “Indian Summer” again without thinking of their terror.

In the springtime and summer, the settlers returned to the forts or fortified homes, packed in together, but safe. Of course, this also meant that any disease, like cholera, dysentery, or consumption, ran rampant, killing many, in addition to the raids themselves.

You would have known your neighbors well. Very well. Too well.

The Valley Road, also known as the Great Warrior Path transected the original settlement, along Smith Creek, right where John Dobkins Sr. originally settled.

In many cases, the raiding Indians killed the men and took the women and children captive to be adopted into Indian families as replacements for family members lost either to warfare or other causes.

Both the French and English paid the Shawnee and other “Ohio Indians” for scalps.

Fort houses were often constructed of stone to prevent fire, built over springs so no one had to venture out for water, with pull-up stairs, loopholed for guns to shoot outward, and often, but not always, stockaded. Sometimes the local militia built blockhouses for protection.

Jacob Dobkins, the son of John Dobkins Jr., would build a blockhouse during the Revolutionary War at Harrodsburg, Kentucky. Born in 1751, Jacob spent his entire childhood under the long shadow of warfare. By the time the French and Indian War, and the raids ended, he was 15 or 16 and probably quite experienced in how to protect himself and his family.

If you think about it, it’s a miracle that he, or any of the settlers, survived. Many didn’t.

The Shenandoah Valley residents constructed Holman’s fort at the mouth of Holman’s Creek where it intersected with the Shenandoah River. Of course, this might explain why the Dobkins family, and others, were close to the Holman family.

John Dobkins Jr. would have been living dangerously, very dangerously, if he lived 8 miles west of the Fort during this time. He had obviously claimed this land, built his cabin, and moved prior to the outbreak of hostilities.

Perhaps, given that John was a Captain in the militia, he and his neighbors constructed another fortified home to protect the residents further west, along Holman’s Creek. Otherwise they would have made themselves targets, literally sitting ducks.

I can’t help but wonder about the stone Armentrout Mill, right beside what we think is John Dobkins’ home. What about its earliest history? Could this have been Captain Dobkins fortified home, instead of, or maybe in addition to, the cabin across the road?

In 1753, the Valley Indians began meeting with those across the Allegheny Mountains and, soon thereafter, disappeared to the west. Then, raids commenced, and the French and Indian War was underway.

I was able to piece together some information about Indian raids in this area, and a few poor souls who died.

In 1753, during the beginning years of the war, John Dobkins sold this land and moved further north – to Stoney Creek.

  • On September 17, 1757, 34 people were killed or captured on Cedar Creek and Stoney Creek.

This literally made my blood run cold, knowing John Dobkins and his family were living there. Is this, perhaps, what happened to John’s son, Thomas Dobkins? What about his namesake son, John? And his daughter, Jean?

You’ll recognize many of the names of people known to have perished as neighbors with whom John Dobkins interacted.

  • In 1758, fifty Indians and four Frenchmen arrived at the home of George Painter near Shenandoah, nine miles below Woodstock, at the location still called Indian Fort Stock Farm.

Painter had a large basement. He was killed there along with four babies before the house and stable were burned. The indentation in the ground where the structure collapsed remains to this day.

Forty-eight people were taken prisoners. Two of Painter’s sons and Jacob Fisher who hid were the only ones to escape capture, which is how we have that history today.

  • That same summer at Fry’s Fort, a stockaded fort on Cedar Creek, the Young and Day families were killed and some members captured.
  • On June 1, 1764, Bowman’s Fort, near present day Strasburg on Valley Pike was attacked, with 32 people killed. George Bowman was the son-in-law of Jost Hite and had arrived in 1732. Bowman’s neighbor, George Miller, was killed as was John Dellinger whose wife was captured and child was killed. If these families were Brethren or Mennonite, they refused to use violent means to protect themselves. The Indians knew that, which may be why there are a disproportionate number of Brethren names on the list of known attacks.
  • Next came Nisewanger’s Fort, near Middletown.
  • Jacob Miller’s Fort may have been attacked in 1766, near Millerstown, now called Woodstock.
  • In 1766, after the war had supposedly ended, five Indians attacked the Sheets and Taylor families as they traveled to the fort at Woodstock. The men were killed immediately, but the wives picked up axes and managed to save themselves and their children. These women clearly weren’t Brethren.

No attacks are recorded after 1766. It was very probably a very tense peace for a very long time. The residents had lived under constant threat for 12 long, frightening, years.

Some people refer to the French and Indian War as the beginning of the American Revolution. It would only be a few years until the next war began on the frontier in 1774.

Life After the War

Life continued. John’s children were growing up, or were grown. We know John was still living because several records exist.

  • March 8, 1768 – Thomas Moor of Frederick County (so north of the Fairfax line) was granted 293 acres on Holeman’s Creek adjoining John Dobekin, Stephen Ruddle, John Thompson, Reese Lewis, Boon’s survey.
  • August 19, 1773 – John Dobbins buyer at the estate sale of Thomas Rutherford
  • On April 14, 1774 – George Coffield of Dunmore Co., assignee of Edward Rian, 400 acres on Stony Creek in said County. Surveyed Dec. 29, 1753 for Edward Rian and forfeited by advertisement and recorded in Book N. Adj John Dobekin, John Bayly.

Bailey is at JB400 on the La Favre map, so Jacob has to be WB400. The current address is 4109 Jerome Road, Edinburg, VA.

On John’s tract, at the intersection of what today is Jerome Road and Alum Springs Road, right beside Foltz Creek, we find another old stone cabin still standing, with an old chimney.

This old cabin is clearly on John Dobkins’ land, seen in the distance across Stoney Creek, shown above.

You can see the original stone in both the house and the fireplace.

The Revolutionary War

Dunmore County was formed in 1772 from Frederick County. Dunmore was renamed to Shenando, now Shenandoah, in 1778 with no boundary changes.

Many of Shenandoah County’s citizens were involved in the American Revolution. In June, 1774, some residents met in Woodstock, with the Reverend Peter Muhlenberg heading the meeting. He was elected Chairman of the Committee on Resolutions which and issued a fiery statement about tyranny, taxation and representation.

Muhlenberg was appointed colonel of the Eighth Virginia Regiment in December, 1775. One Sunday in January, 1776, Muhlenberg delivered a stirring farewell sermon to his congregation and left for battle with his German regiment.

The men of Shenandoah were experienced wilderness settlers and made a major contribution to the war, including John Dobkins’ son, Jacob.

While the Revolutionary Was not yet in full swing, Lord Dunmore’s War had begun in which the Virginia Governor essentially declared war against the Native people.

The 1775 list of men in the Dunmore County militia during the Revolutionary War under the command of Capt. Jacob Holman includes Evin Dobkin, Jacob Dobkin, and Reuben Dobkin. John is not listed, but he would have been about 65 by this time. We know Jacob was of age by this time, and it’s likely that both Reuben and Evin were too.

In 1775, John Dobkins’ sons were marrying:

  • January 30, 1775 – Evan Dobkins married Margaret Johnson
  • Before 1783 – Reuben Dobkins married Elizabeth Holeman who was listed in her father’s 1784 will.
  • March 11, 1775 – Jacob Dobkins married Dorcas Johnson

In the midst of the War, life continued.

  • On April 20, 1777, a lease between Cutbert Harrison of Dunmore County to Elias Coffelt of same for 5 shillings, a parcel of land lying on Stoney creek, the line of John Dobins survey on a steep hill…containing 200 acres…rent one peppercorn on Lady day next. Witnesses Edwin Young, John Sehorn and G. Garrison.
  • In April 1778, Evan Dobbins was appointed as Constable. John’s sons were doing well for themselves.
  • In November 1780, the court ordered that John Dobkins be relieved from payment of future county levies.

Generally, this was done when a person reached a specific age, or was infirm and unable to earn a living. To have baptized a child in 1736, John had to have been born before 1715, and more likely about 1710. If he was born in 1710, he would have been age 70 in 1780, so that sounds right.

  • In December 1780, John Daubin sat on a jury. The next day, he proved his attendance for 3 days at the suit Holdman vs Bean. I’d guess Holdman is Holman and Bean may be Boon.
  • In 1780, the Dunmore County militia was called to action to repel the British invasion. By that time, John’s son, Jacob Dobkins, was already in Kentucky.

In 1782, John Dawbin is shown on the personal property tax list with no poll tax, two horses, and 6 cows. Reuben has one poll, 3 horses and 11 cows. Jacob has 1 poll, 2 horses and 2 cows. Evan is missing.

According to the “Census of 1783,” there were 1,302 families residing in Shenandoah County. That’s a huge increase from 49 families in roughly 50 years.

  • In 1783, John Dobkins was shown on the Shenandoah County Tax list as head-of-household with 4 whites. His son, Jacob Dobkin had 8 family members, which means at least one child died that we don’t know about, and Reuben Dobkin had 4.

Who was living with John Dobkins? One daughter, Rebecca possibly, and her newly minted husband? Where’s Evan? Maybe he’s one of the people living with John. Are there children we still don’t know about? So many unanswered questions.

  • On February 21, 1783, Rebecca Dobbins married Patrick Shield, with John Dobbins signing as bondsman.

John’s signature isn’t just an X, but is unique, suggesting that he doesn’t know how to write his name but artfully draws the same signature each time he signs.

What Happened to John?

Cecil Smith says that John Dobkins Jr. went to the western land that would become Tennessee about 1785 with Jacob and Reuben, although I’m not so sure.

What happened to John’s Stoney Creek land? Was it sold? If not, what happened to that land? I found a deed reference in 1813 that his former land belonged to Joseph Pugh, but I was unable to figure out how Joseph Pugh acquired the land. I did research the entire group of deed books between the formation of Shenandoah and 1813, but I was simply unable to discern the trail of ownership.

Cecil probably felt that John accompanied his sons because records of a John Dobkins are found in the new location, on the next frontier.

One hint that John may have been bitten by the land bug is the fact that one John Dobbin had applied for land between 1773 and 1780 on Elkhorn Creek in what was then Fincastle County, Virginia, but would become Kentucky one day. Jacob Dobkins was “not found” on the Fincastle tax list in 1773 as well.

If this John is Jacob’s brother, John, born in 1740s, he would have been 33 or older at the time someone named John Dobkin applied for land on Elkhorn Creek. Jacob’s father, John would have been 53 or older at the time. That land was sold, not settled.

Another interesting, but apparently disconnected tidbit, is that Joseph Pugh purchased another Shenandoah County man’s land on…you guessed it…Elkhorn Creek. So apparently, this was discussed in the area.

By 1785, Jacob Dobkins had struck out for the western country, probably hoping to own land of his own. He wasn’t alone. At least two of his brothers and either his brother or father, John were along on that wagon train.

No Dobkins name remains on the 1785 Shenandoah County tax list, but Jacob, then living in the contested portion of North Carolina that eventually became Washington County, Tennessee was summoned to give a deposition.

  • Page 252 – Friday the 6th (think this is May 1785) – ordered the justices of Shenandoah Co. Virginia to take the depositions of Jacob Dobkins, Sylvia Foella, and other witnesses in the suit between Valentine Sevier Sr. and Andrew Bird.

In November 1787, we find mention of John again.

  • Washington County, TN Page 294 – Nov. 5, 1787 – Will of Rudolph Cresslias – executor Elizabeth and John Cathart Cresslias – William Noodling Sr., John Dobbins, and Abraham Riffe appraisers.

Who is this John Dobbins? Jacob’s son, John was born about 1777, so this clearly isn’t him.

Evan married in 1775, so this John isn’t his son.

Reuben married Elizabeth Holman, but for this John to be his son, he would have had to born about 1766, or earlier, which means that Reuben would have been married by 1765. It’s possible, but unlikely.

Any person assigned to appraise an estate would be someone with experience. Not a task for a young man.

Is this the John Dobkins baptized in 1741 that was rumored to have married the third Johnson sister, Rachel? That’s certainly a possibility. He would have been about 47 years old.

The two most likely scenarios are that this John Dobkins is either the father or the brother of Jacob, Evan and Reuben. However, we don’t find hide nor hair of John again for several years.

  • Page 345 – Jacob Dobkins of John Wier for 100 acres dated February 21, 1788, by Abraham Riffe
  • Page 358 – Evan Dobkins finds a stray horse on November 13, 1788.
  • Reuben Dobkins (spelled Dobbins) takes part in Martin’s campaign of 1788 against the Cherokee near present-day Chattanooga, Tennessee, also known as Dragging Canoe’s War.

These Dobkins men simply cannot escape warfare. It must be a way of life for them.

The less than straightforward Treaty of Sycamore Shoals with the Cherokee was at the heart of the conflict in this region, and when combined with local emotional politics, the situation boiled over.

  • March 1794 – Jacob Dobkins vs John Sevier and Benjamin Mooney – appeared – found for plaintiff for 63.10 and 6 cents costs.

Jacob and Reuben Dobkins settle, at least for some time, in Washington County, then in Jefferson County, Tennessee.

  • Reuben is found in Jackson County in 1802, but is back in Jefferson the next year. In 1820, a Reuben is found in Overton County.
  • Jacob Dobkins was in Jefferson County in 1796 when he sold land, then in Claiborne when the new County was formed from Grainger in 1801.
  • Evan Dobkins was in Washington County in 1793. One Evan was found in 1810 in Sevier County. Evan had married Margaret Johnson, and we find Johnson Dobkins emerge in the 1810 census in Sevier County, along with Evan. John Dobkins obtains a land grant in Sevier County in 1810.

One final clue about John Dobkins may be two petitions, although it’s impossible to know for sure without actually viewing the petitions to see if John signed with a signature. We know that John when signing for Rebecca Dobkins’ marriage signed with a unique mark.

John Dobbins is reported to have signed a petition to the Tennessee General Assembly to form a new county for Sumner County, Tennessee in 1799. Also in 1801 for a county northwest of the Clinch River. I found this reference by another researcher from years ago, but I don’t find his name on a transcribed list of petitioners.

Given that our John Dobkins, Jr., was born about 1710, I doubt this is the same man. He would have been 90. It’s much more likely that this John is either his son, or his grandson, a child of Jacob, Reuben or Evan who would have been born in 1778 or earlier.

John Dobkins Jr. could have died in Dunmore or Shenandoah County, Virginia, before 1785, but a will does not exist for him. But then again, neither does a land sale, at least not that I’ve been able to find.

I suspect that John Dobkins died in Washington County, sometime after 1787, in his late 70s. He had a remarkable life spent entirely on a series of frontiers with disputed and fluctuating boundaries. He is probably buried in land that was once Virginia, North Carolina, the State of Franklin, the Territory South of the Ohio, and eventually became Tennessee. John didn’t move so much as the states and counties moved underneath him.

Capt. John Dobkins was one rugged frontiersman.

_____________________________________________________________

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Rest in Peace, Queen Elizabeth – 52 Ancestors #374

Her full name was Elizabeth Alexandra Mary of the House of Windsor. She was born as Princess Elizabeth of York to The Duke and Duchess of York, later to become King George VI and his wife, Queen Elizabeth. After King George died, her mother was known as Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother to avoid confusion with her daughter, then Queen Elizabeth II.

Not being British, at least not in the past 246 years or so, the British tradition of names combined with titles that change is somewhat confusing to my American mind. Let’s just say I encourage you to read the Wikipedia article here.

Queen Elizabeth has been Queen of the United Kingdom and several Commonwealth realms longer than I’ve been alive. She ascended to the throne in February 1952 when her father, King George, died, pledging herself to the service of her country in a speech to Parliament.

A little-known fact about Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II, who was really quite remarkable, is that she was literally in a treehouse in Kenya when she was informed that her father had passed away unexpectedly, and consequently, she had become Queen.

She was staying at the Treetops Hotel at the foothills of Mount Kenya, in a treehouse built in the branches of a huge fig tree on a series of tall but quite spindly-looking stilts. Her husband, Prince Philip, learned of King George’s death from a reporter, before Elizabeth, and conveyed the sad news to the 26-year old woman who had no idea she was, at that very moment, already the Queen of England.

You can view the original treetop structure here.

Clearly, Elizabeth returned immediately to assume the mantle of public service she would humbly wear for the next 70 years.

Seventy years and seven months – the longest reigning monarch in British history and the longest-reigning female monarch in world history. Only one other monarch, ever, reigned longer than Queen Elizabeth – French King Louis XIV who ascended the throne at age four. Clearly, he wasn’t making decisions at that age. Her Majesty celebrated her Platinum Jubilee in June of this year. I’m glad that both she and the British people were able to experience that celebration together.

By Stuart Yeates from Oxford, UK – Flickr, CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=728182

Her Majesty, the Queen, had recently been experiencing health challenges after having contracted Covid in late February this year, although there’s no evidence that was a factor in her death. She passed away at Balmoral Castle, her home in Scotland, on September 8th, 2022, at 96 years of age, after fulfilling duties just two days previously.

The Queen was greatly-loved, not only in England but also in much of the rest of the British Isles and Commonwealth countries. Many of the British subjects, and others, never met the Queen in person, but are grieving deeply. She was widely viewed as a lovely, kind, grandmotherly person.

Nature published an article explaining the science behind the outpouring of public grief. Let’s face it, Queen Elizabeth has been a constant in all of our lives for most all of our lives. While some of her family members have been embroiled in numerous scandals, she herself has been a unifying factor within the Royal family and also, for the most part, the rest of Great Britain too. She always offered hope and comfort.

The Queen brought four children into the world, and the monarchy has descended to her eldest son, Charles, now King Charles the third. While he is officially King, he has not been ceremonially crowned, as yet, and won’t be until several months after Queen Elizabeth has been laid to rest. No one feels like celebrating just yet.

If you’re interested in the royal line of succession, which also baffles me, there’s a good article here with a pedigree chart – something genealogists understand. The net-net of this is that Prince William is next in line, and then his eldest son, who is, of course, still a young child.

Cousin Queen Elizabeth

Elizabeth, although I didn’t know it for a very long time, even after becoming a genealogist, was my 11th cousin, three times removed, 11C3R. Her great-grandchildren are my generation. We appear to also be related in other ways as well, but those are either unproven, and what I would consider speculative, or more distant.

If you’re rolling your eyes right about now, trust me, I was too. That’s part of why I discounted that tidbit for such a long time.

Several years ago, cousin Bill Nevils told me that we connected to the Royal Monarchy through the Muncy line. Bill was a remarkable, meticulous genealogist, as was James Muncy who also, independently, reached the same conclusion long before the days of quick copy and paste internet trees.

I’ve spent the past several years confirming my ancestors, one per week, in the 52 Ancestors Series (plus DNA when possible), and to date, I’ve worked my way through 6 and most of 7 of the 14 generations between me and Sir Andrew Windsor and his wife Elizabeth Blount who were married about 1490, my common ancestors with Queen Elizabeth,

I’m not terribly concerned about the accuracy of The Queen’s genealogy. Once one intersects with a Royal line, the genealogy has been scrutinized with a microscope by people with far more resources and money than I have at my disposal. I’m VERY grateful for that!

Queen Elizabeth, along with all of the other British Monarchy, are descended from William the Conqueror – along with an estimated 5 million other people. William the Conqueror is descended from Charlemagne, as is most if not all of the rest of Europe, including the British Isles, and the European diaspora.

So, one way or another, or more likely in many ways, if you have any European heritage at all, you too are probably related to the recently deceased Queen.

Gateway Ancestors

If you’re looking for what are known as “Gateway Ancestors” in the US, colonial immigrants, you can find a curated list of well-researched lines at WikiTree, along with the Magna Carta Project gateway ancestors here.

Our Connecting Lineage

The genealogy connecting Queen Elizabeth and me, which sounds very odd, I must admit, beginning with Sir Andrew Windsor and Elizabeth Blount is shown below. Beneath that, I’ll provide the WikiTree links and my ancestor stories, where they exist.

 Gen Name WikiTree 52 Ancestors
1 William Sterling Estes https://www.wikitree.com/wiki/Estes-2199 Many, see Wikitree entry
2 Ollie Bolton https://www.wikitree.com/wiki/Bolton-1715 Ollie Bolton Estes Robbins (1874-1955) and the Wrath of a Woman Scorned
3 Margaret Clarkson/Claxton https://www.wikitree.com/wiki/Claxton-738 Margaret N. Clarkson/Claxton (1851-1920, Baptist Church Founder
4 Samuel Claxton https://www.wikitree.com/wiki/Claxton-328 Samuel Claxton/Clarkson (1827-1876), Civil War Veteran
5 Agnes Muncy https://www.wikitree.com/wiki/Muncy-246 Agnes Muncy (1803-after 1880), A Grieved Mother
6 Samuel Muncy III https://www.wikitree.com/wiki/Muncy-93 Samuel Muncy (1761/1768-1839), Who’s Your Daddy, Your Mamma, and Your Kids?
7 Samuel Muncy Jr. https://www.wikitree.com/wiki/Muncy-225 Revolutionary War Veteran
9 Samuel Muncy Sr. https://www.wikitree.com/wiki/Muncy-95 Revolutionary War Veteran
10 Francis Muncy https://www.wikitree.com/wiki/Muncy-96
11 Hannah Brewster https://www.wikitree.com/wiki/Brewster-1099
12 Sarah Ludlow https://www.wikitree.com/wiki/Ludlow-121
13 Roger Ludlow https://www.wikitree.com/wiki/Ludlow-37 Immigrant – Great Migration
14 Thomas Ludlow https://www.wikitree.com/wiki/Ludlow-8
15 Edith Windsor https://www.wikitree.com/wiki/Windsor-38

London

Twice I’ve been to London and in close proximity to the two Royal castles that grace central London. The Royal family is front and center everyplace in England, and the Royal flag indicates whether Her Majesty is in residence at the time, or not, in any specific location. I was stunned that everyone in London knew, without looking.

In 1970, as a student and long before I was interested in genealogy, I visited Buckingham Palace and watched the ceremonial changing of the guard.

My cousin, The Queen, would have been 44 and not even approaching her mid-life point yet. Of course, none of us knows at the time when that milestone occurs.

A few years ago, I stayed just a couple blocks away from Kensington Palace.

Here, I’m walking through Hyde Park on the Diana, Princess of Wales Memorial Walk, with Kensington Palace in the background. I’m not at all sure I realized that until I saw this photo later that the Palace was back there. I wanted my picture with the marker in the walk. I was glad Diana hadn’t been forgotten and omitted altogether. I didn’t realize Diana had been my 12C2R by marriage, and her children, Princes William and Harry, are my 13C1R.

The palace gate was a block or so from my hotel, and across from the bus stop.

I wondered out loud to my husband if the black car exiting the Palace grounds might have been the Queen. I discounted it as even a possibility due to the lack of pomp and circumstance – then a local told me that no, the Royal Standard flag was not flying over the Castle, so she was not there. She was in Balmoral for a visit, I was informed, just matter of factly. Everyone felt an affection and kinship with the Queen, like a favorite family member.

It was just accepted that everyone knew where the Queen was, and what was going on with the Royals. As someone said to me, “She is ours, and we are hers.”

By Conay – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2656298

Here’s the Royal flag flying above Buckingham Palace.

Apparently, the Royal Standard also flies on the car in which the Sovereign is riding and on the Royal plane when it’s on the ground. Right now, it is also draping the Queen’s coffin.

Preparing to Lay the Queen to Rest

Queen Elizabeth will be laid to rest on Monday. Londoners are waiting for 24 hours now, in the cold, and the line stretches for many miles to leave flowers and pay their respects. These are no casual acts of reverence – but a deeply felt connection to the woman who served Great Britain as the only Monarch most have every known. Simply put, they love her.

King Charles, along with Elizabeth’s other children are standing ceremonial guard over their mother’s coffin as she lays in state in Westminster Hall, which is also Westminster Palace, the famous complex where the British Parliament meets, seen here from across the Thames River.

Queen Elizabeth’s four children, including the King, entering together in full dress military uniforms, standing vigil, each on one side of her coffin, was emotion-packed and exceedingly difficult to watch. Grieving is hard enough in private – but this is on full display to the world.

By Terry Ott from Washington, DC Metro Area, United States of America – Built in 1016, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=122737498

Today, however, was the most agonizing part for me – watching her grandchildren stand vigil. You can see Prince William’s lip quiver as he fights public tears as the world watches. I couldn’t even breathe when my mother died, let alone manage to grieve combined with upholding an exceedingly public Royal tradition, broadcast ’round the world. Nothing could ever prepare you for this.

My condolences to the entire Royal family and the British people as well. I hope their memories and great love sustain them.

The good news is that they had decades to make wonderful memories – and Queen Elizabeth was remarkably healthy right up to very near the end. The bad news is that everyone had so long to form those bonds that have been snapped. Great love equates to great grief – and these people, all of them, are clearly in mourning.

Funeral Service

Queen Elizabeth’s funeral will take place Monday, September 19th in Westminster Abbey, the same location where she was crowned in 1953. She will be interred in St. George’s Chapel at Windsor Castle, beside Prince Philip, her husband of 73 years who died in 2021, and her parents. Her funeral service commences at 11 AM UK time and will be broadcast live on probably every news channel imaginable if you care to join me in watching what will assuredly be a memorial like no other. The doors open at 8 AM, so if you’re one of the dignitaries attending in person, don’t forget your invitation, and don’t be late! 😊

At 11:44 AM, sharp, the Queen’s coffin will be moved from Westminster Hall to Westminster Abbey, an 8-minute trip, with King Charles III leading the Royal family as they walk behind, escorting their beloved mother and grandmother, a woman who just happened to also be their revered Queen, one last time.

The funeral service will be followed by two minutes of silence at noon. Details can be found here.

History is literally being made with the first funeral of a ruling British Monarch to be televised. I hope you’ll watch. After all, Queen Elizabeth is probably your cousin too.

_____________________________________________________________

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Elizabeth (c1767-1838), Andrew McKee’s Incredible Widow – 52 Ancestors #373

Elizabeth was Andrew McKee’s wife, but who was she? What do we know about her?

I can tell you one thing after researching the details of her life and fleshing out as much as possible – that woman was made of absolute grit! I would love to sit down for a few days and talk to her about her life and what was going on around her. I know, I just know that there’s an untold story here. I can smell it, but I can’t find it.

Amazingly, we didn’t even know Elizabeth’s name until her husband died.

Everything we know about Elizabeth’s early life, we know through Andrew and her children.

Given that Elizabeth’s youngest child was born in either 1810 or shortly thereafter, and if we estimate that she was 43 years old at the time, we can reasonably establish her birth about 1767. Of course, she could have been anyplace from 40-45, so born between 1765-1770.

Based on this, it makes sense that Elizabeth would have been marrying about 1788. She would have been about 21 years old.

Why 1788?

Andrew McKee, her husband, had land surveyed on October 5, 1789. Now this could mean a couple of things.

Andrew could have already been living on this property, leasing, and decided that, indeed, he did want to purchase the patent option, have it surveyed, and settle here permanently.

He did, in fact, settle there permanently. The home he brought his bride home to is the only home they ever had. The only one either of them lived in.

In fact, it still stands – as amazing as that sounds. How cool is this?!!

The home is listed as having been built in 1765, so, it’s possible that Andrew didn’t just obtain a hill with a forest that had to be cleared, but land with a home. Yes, the surrounding land was probably mostly uncleared. I’m not convinced that this house was built in 1765, but it’s certainly the home where Andrew and Elizabeth lived. There’s no question about that.

It’s unlikely that Andrew, as a single man, purchased this land. It’s possible of course.

Marriage records for Washington County do exist, but they seem to be only partially complete, and there is nothing for this timeframe for Andrew and Elizabeth.

Where Was Andrew Before 1789?

That’s a good question.

The early Washington County records, including the tax lists beginning in 1782 don’t show any McKee men, except for one Elias Mackey in 1784. He lives 9 houses from John Kelly, who became Andrew McKee’s neighbor in 1789 when his land was surveyed. John Kelly is in the county as early as 1782 and possibly earlier, along with the Robinsons and lots of Edmistons (Edmondson) – families that would be Andrew’s neighbors his entire adult life.

In 1785 and 1786, there are no McKee or Mackey men in the county.

Andrew McKee apparently wasn’t in Washington County prior to 1787 when he first appears on the tax list. Either that or he was too young to be taxed, or on someone else’s list. On the 1787 tax list, he’s 21 or over, but he has no property at all, not even a horse. His birth year was 1766 or earlier.

If he was living with someone else in 1787, he was taxed on his own and not on their list.

Unfortunately, the 1787 tax list is recorded in letter order, not tax or house order. Andrew McKee is listed as the person chargeable and the white male above 21 – no blacks, no horses, no cattle, no stud horses – nothing else.

Andrew had to come from someplace. Did he come with other McKee men?

The 1788 property and land tax list is, unfortunately, in alpha order, but shows several people of interest.

  • May 21 – John Mackey 1 – – – 3
  • July 26 – Samuel Mackey 1
  • Sept 10 – Alexander Mecke (I believe this is Meek or Meeks from later lists) 1 – 1 2
  • Sept 19 – Andrew McKee 1
  • October 5 – Thomas McKee 1

Those last two are definitely McKee, but apparently, Thomas moved on. They were not visited on the same day, or even close, so they may be entirely disconnected.

All these men have one tithable, which means they are living in their own households and only have one white male, age 21 or over, no horses (except John) and no blacks.

Thomas’s name was definitely McKee, but he is never found again.

Andrew may have arrived by himself on the frontier. If those other men in 1788 were family, they moved on. Elias did serve in the Revolutionary War from Washington and Montgomery Counties, but he moved on too. Andrew named none of his boys any of these names except Alexander, and that’s the name I’m fairly certain is actually Meek or Meeks.

Courting

In 1787 and 1788, Andrew was probably calling on Elizabeth, maybe picking wildflowers along the way, Queen Anne’s Lace and Daisies perhaps, and tying them into a bouquet, trying to win her heart.

Maybe Elizabeth is the reason why Andrew didn’t move on with those other McKee men.

Given that he didn’t have a horse on the 1787 tax list, we know Andrew was walking or, if lucky, maybe riding a mule. Maybe 1787 is when they married, which is why he’s on the tax list.

Maybe Andrew proposed as soon as he could afford a horse. Or maybe his father-in-law-to-be took pity on young Andrew and sold him an old nag real cheap!

Ahhh, young love.

If Andrew and Elizabeth were married in 1788, or thereabouts, then they would have been married in the Ebbing Springs Church that no longer exists. It wasn’t located too far away. In fact, people in a Facebook group for Washington County, VA say they can remember walking from the land that John Kelly owned, across Price’s Bridge spanning the Holston River to the cemetery where the old church used to be. Of course, back when Andrew lived there, no bridges existed, and the river would have either been waded, forded on horseback, or in a wagon when (if) the water was low enough.

Of course, it’s also possible that Andrew married Elizabeth elsewhere, and they came with her family.

Andrew’s not on the land or personal tax list in 1789, but then his district could be missing.

On August 18, 1790, Andrew McKee had 1 tax levy, himself, and one horse/mare, no blacks or any stud horses or anything else.

At least he’s been able to save up enough for a horse.

Given that Elizabeth probably would have been too young to marry before 1787, it’s likely that Andrew married a local gal and settled down near her parents. Maybe even beside her parents.

Hmmm, who are the neighbors?

Neighbors

Andrew’s immediate neighbors, whose land borders his, are:

  • John Kelley (Kelly)’s land was surveyed in 1782
  • Samuel Kithcart had his land surveyed in 1782
  • Jacob Halfacre whose land was surveyed in 1783 and acquired the Dozer survey
  • James Thompson’s 2600 aces was surveyed in 1746 and some also in 1794

Near neighbors include

  • John Starnes who settled in 1774
  • Aaron Lewis whose land was surveyed in 1785
  • John Kirk who settled in 1772, but whose land wasn’t surveyed until 1783
  • David Craig whose land wasn’t surveyed until 1801
  • Nathaniel McClure settled in 1770 and his land was surveyed in 1785
  • Henry Oakwood settled in 1773 and his land was surveyed in 1784
  • Jonathan Cunningham settled in 1775 by George Hice and had lis land surveyed in 1782
  • Abraham Lefever settled in 1774 and had his land surveyed in 1785, also another trace surveyed in 1784
  • Adam Morrow settled n 773 and had his land surveyed in 1784
  • Joseph Cole settled in 1771 and had his land surveyed in 1782
  • Philip Grever settled in 1773 and had his land surveyed in 1782
  • John Bowles settled in 1773 and had his land surveyed in 1784
  • Thomas Edmundson had two tracts of land surveyed in 1783
  • Jonathan Cortney has his land surveyed in 1798
  • Patrick Watson’s land was surveyed in 1783
  • James Robinson’s land was surveyed in 1783
  • David and Samuel Robinson had land surveyed in 1785 and David in 1796

Jeffrey La Favre mapped these early land grants, here, and discovered that there’s n marker in the David Robinson 1796 survey that refers to a corner with Andrew McKee. I’ve drawn that with a green arrow. (It’s also worth noting that point is very close to the old McKee cemetery.)

The problem is that Andrew McKee’s land is shown in yellow, at the top. What gives?

We know from Andrew’s 1805 will that he had “two plantations,” adjoined.

Jeffrey also discovered that Samuel Kithcart sold 192 acres to Andrew McKee in 1791.

Samuel Killhart [Kithcart] sells to Andrew W. Kee [McKee] 192 acres on the Middle and South Forks of the Holston River. Washington Co., VA Record of Deeds 1, p. 226. David Robinson’s 100-acre tract surveyed 27 June 1796, lists Andrew McKee as owner of adjoining land, which on the map below is Samuel Kithcart’s 191 acre tract. Actually, due to problems in fitting the tracts on the map, Robinson’s tract does not adjoin Kithcart’s tract, although the survey descriptions indicate that they do adjoin.

Now we know that Andrew McKee bought Kithcart’s land. Was that an arm’s length transaction, or had Andrew married Kithcart’s daughter?

The land transaction was for 105 pounds and lay between the middle and south fork of the Holston. The original survey referenced James Dozer and Zachariah Wolsey, whose land Andrew McKee patented originally. It mentions John Kelley’s line along with Thomas Edmondson and Adam Morrow.

The deed was proven in court on August 16, 1791, where Elizabeth Kincart, his wife, relinquished her right of dower. Unfortunately, the name Elizabeth is very common, so we can’t really draw any inferences from that.

The following deed registered in the deed book was another sale transaction from Samuel Kithcart to Samuel Eakin, also for 110 pounds of Virginia money, so indeed it does sound like Kithcart was selling out and leaving.

I was so hoping that Kithcart had sold his land to Andrew at a low price, a lower price than normal, which might have suggested that Andrew was his son-in-law, but no such luck.

Or maybe, Elizabeth was John Kelly’s daughter?

Of course, maybe neither, but you have to be close enough to court a gal before you can ask her father for her hand in marriage and then propose to her.

Did Samuel Kithcart, who had been settled there since at least 1782, sell out and move on a decade later? Where did he go, and more importantly, perhaps, did he leave a will?

The Beginning of the Family

We know that Andrew and Elizabeth’s children started arriving not long after their presumed marriage about 1788.

For example, we know that son James McKee was born on January 12 of 1791, but he may not have been their first child. In fact, I’m fairly certain that he wasn’t.

How I wish the 1790 census existed. Although, James McKee, on his War of 1812 bounty land requisition, says he was drafted and that on April 23rd, 1852, he was 59 years old, which places his birth in 1793, not 1791.

His tombstone provides his birth, by subtraction, as December 22, 1790, as does the Washington County, VA death register. The book, High on a Windy Hill provides the location of James’s grave as the McKee Cemetery. This would have been on the land he owned, originally owned by his father, and may very well be where Andrew, Elizabeth, and his siblings are buried as well.

I wrote about the McKee Cemetery, here, including the location.

Daughter Sally McKee was probably their firstborn child, maybe in 1788 or 1789. She married Robert Larimer in December of 1810.

Now would probably be a good time to mention that I compiled a large spreadsheet involving every record for Andrew’s children that I could find that would even hint at their age. I’ve used the various columns to hone in on the most likely birth years I’ll be publishing the information about their children in birth order. The spreadsheet includes:

  • Andrew’s 1805 will – list of his children
  • 1810 census
  • Marriage date
  • Andrew’s 1814 estate sale purchasers
  • Tax list appearance date
  • Guardianship date
  • 1820 census
  • 1830 census
  • Elizabeth’s estate purchasers
  • Margaret’s estate purchasers
  • Spouse’s estates
  • 1840, 1850, 1860, 1870 census
  • Death information
  • Their children’s birth information
  • Military records
  • Other resources

James was probably the oldest son based on the order of children listed in Andrew’s will and also based on the fact that he served as the guardian for his minor siblings after his father’s death.

Based on this, we can presume that Elizabeth probably had Sally 18 months to 2 years earlier than James, so July of 1789, just before Andrew’s land was surveyed. Since we didn’t find Andrew on the tax list that year, was he on his father-in-law’s tax list, or did I miss the listing or was his page missing? If their child was born in July of 1789, then we might say they were married in the summer of 1788.

That makes sense, especially since we first find Andrew on the 1787 tax list.

Children Sally and James would have been baptized in the old Ebbing Springs church just a few miles away from home.

We don’t have all the tax lists, but by 1790, according to that year’s tax list, Andrew had obtained a horse. Thank goodness!

On May 21 of 1791, Andrew had 5 horses, and 4 in 1792.

Their family kept growing, year by year.

I suspect their son William McKee was born about 1792 or 1793, especially if James actually was born in January of 1791, which I suspect is accurate. That date comes from his War of 1812 pension application.

William McKee, Merchant of Abingdon

I’m going to take a minute here to dispel some misinformation. We know, based on Andrew McKee’s will that William was born before March 24, 1805, but we don’t know when, exactly. We also know that William is listed as the second son in the will, which means that William could NOT have been born before 1791. If Elizabeth and Andrew were married about 1788, William would not have been older than 16, at the oldest, when his father wrote his will in 1805.

There is a William McKee and Company who is granted a merchant’s license in Abingdon, 8 or 9 miles away, in 1803, two years before Andrew wrote his will.

It’s almost impossible that this William, who would have been at least 21 AND had the money for inventory, is Andrew’s son, William.

Because of the same name, but without thorough evaluation, it has been assumed (there’s that word) over the years that William of Abingdon is William, Andrew’s son. Plus, William of Abingdon has a grave marker, so he’s easy to find. However, notice that one of his children, Julia Ann, died in New York in 1826 at age 13. New York???

As it turns out, William McKee of Abingdon married one Phebe Ogden of New York.

He has ties to New York and a home in Richmond. William is a wealthy merchant with a store that carries silks and upscale items. He also owns a tanyard, and in all of his business dealings, not one person is a familiar person or surname associated with Andrew McKee’s group in the northern part of the county. I can’t help but wonder, though, if Y DNA were involved if those two lines descend from the same line back overseas. William McKee is also a Presbyterian based on the location of his grave marker, in the Sinking Spring Cemetery.

William McKee’s will was probated on May 27, 1833, and dated October 29, 1832. William estimated that his estate was worth a quarter million dollars, back then, and mentioned his nephew, Thomas Wallace.

He lists several underage children, including son William Carlton McKee who he suggests be placed in a dry goods store in NY after his education. Also, children Mary Elizabeth McKee, Adeline Taylor McKee, Sarah Ann Helms McKee, and Henry Ogden McKee. Elias Ogden is the executor. The children’s guardian is William Fulton out of Lynchburg, and William mentions Richmond, VA. His long estate settlement can be seen here.

The New York Evening Post reported his death and referred to him as “of this city.”

Furthermore, the 1803 merchant date means that if William was 21 at that time, he would have been born in 1782 or before, which means that Elizabeth, if she were his mother, would have to have been born in 1764 to have a child as late as 1810. This isn’t impossible, but we have an entire group of improbable things that would all have had to occur in series.

The William McKee, merchant, in Abingdon, is NOT the son of Andrew and Elizabeth.

Elizabeth’s Son, William

I don’t know what happened to Andrew and Elizabeth’s son William, but perhaps tax lists and other records can help us sort through what might have happened to William, and when. As it stands, we only know that he was alive in 1805 and seems to be in 1810.

Ebbing Springs Church

Something else happened in 1792 that would have reverberated through the community. I’m guessing that opinions were split about this rather dramatic change.

Andrew and Elizabeth would have been attending church at the Ebbing Springs Presbyterian Church. That alone tells us that Andrew and Elizabeth were probably Scots-Irish. We know that Andrew was, but we don’t know about Elizabeth. Given that these were the only churches in the region, and the majority of the settlers were Scots-Irish, I’d say it’s a good bet.

For some reason, in 1792, the congregation abandoned the Ebbing Springs site and moved to Glade Springs, about three miles away. Without knowing why the move was made, it’s hard to gauge how church members might have felt. If Elizabeth was a local gal, which I suspect she was, then she likely had family members buried in the graveyard beside the Ebbing Springs church.

This 1950 aerial view of the remnants of the buildings where the original Ebbing Springs Church and cemetery were located, circled in red, showing the proximity to what I believe is the Ebbing Spring, itself, at the red arrows. The Holston River is the dark meandering line.

Here’s the same location on Google Maps today.

Andrew and Elizabeth lived at the star in the upper right. Andrew owned about 250 acres to the west of Friendship Road, between the Holston and the road, and John Kelly owned most of the rest south to Kelly Chapel Road.

Ebbing Springs Church was about two miles as the crow flies, and maybe five as the wagon traveled.

The original Ebbing Springs Church was established on Capt. James Thompson’s land back when Fort Kilmachronan existed, before Washington County was even established in 1776 from Fincastle County.

You can view photos of some of the original gravestones, here.

Charlie Barnette posted an entire public album of Ebbing Springs photos in the Historical Society of Washington County, VA Facebook group, here. The original James Thompson survey can be seen, here with the Ebbing Springs land in the very lower left corner, where you can see dotted lines showing the old wagon road that ran alongside the river to the church.

Ebbing Spring itself, which would have provided water for Elizabeth and the other churchgoers, as well as the baptismal font, can be seen, here.

These stones mark all that is left of the chimney of those log cabins that were still standing in the 1950s and 1960s, with a remembrance stone placed by Glade Springs marking the cemetery, in the distance near the river on the right.

Of course, a new cemetery was begun at Glade Springs Church, about 3 miles further away. It’s unclear what happened to the old Ebbing Springs Church, but the gravestones were pushed into the river sometime in the 1900s, except for one. The current owner has fenced the cemetery area to prevent further desecration, and the Glade Springs Church erected a monument in the field, seen in the distance at right in the above photo.

One local person says they grew up on the old John Kelly land, and they remember walking from Price’s Bridge up to the old cemetery when they were a kid.

We do know that John Kelly, who died in 1834, stipulated in his will that he was to be buried by his wife in the Ebbing Springs cemetery, so it was still in use at least occasionally then.

The new church, Glade Springs, was another 3-ish miles distant.

Did Andrew and Elizabeth make that 7-mile trip, one way, every Sunday? Somehow, I doubt this. Especially not with young or newborn children, and Elizabeth was either pregnant or had a young baby for more than two decades of her life.

Was another child born, and lost, about 1793 or 1794, or maybe both? Were those babies buried here?

The McKee Homestead

Andrew McKee was a farmer, and a distiller based on the still sold in his estate sale. While no one was wealthy in the country, he also wasn’t poor. Their home was not a small 8×10 or 10×12 one-room log cabin, and Andrew owned more than one horse.

On April 16th, Andrew had four horses on the 1793 tax list, enough for a team to pull a wagon or even two. In 1794 and 1796, he had 7 horses and probably 3 were colts. The 1795 list was illegible.

A third son, Edward McKee, was born about 1795. He married Mary Hand in 1818.

Elizabeth spent her days cooking in this fireplace where the family gathered ’round the hearth on cold winter days.

Soup or beans would have been simmered in the kettle on the pothook almost all the time in the days before refrigeration.

Elizabeth would have stirred these embers thousands of times in her life. Andrew would have chopped and split wood to be brought inside to keep the fire burning, and carried ashes out in the ash bucket.

Elizabeth had to be careful to keep the children away from the fire, of course.

The next child, Andrew McKee, named after her husband, arrived about 1797, making me wonder if James and William were named after his and her fathers, respectively.

That made four boys and one girl.

Life was humming along quite nicely in the McKee homestead within sight of the Middle Fork of the Holston River.

Andrew and Elizabeth were back to their 4 horses in 1797 and 1798, which suggests they might have been breeding horses and selling the colts.

A new baby joined the household every 18 months or so. It would have been a relief when the oldest child could begin to help watch the younger ones.

The 1799 tax list showed Andrew’s land split into two entries, one for 150 acres which is the original plat where the three horses were listed, and a second entry for 192 acres for the second “plantation,” as he called it. Plantation did not mean what it meant further south. Neither Andrew nor his children enslaved others.

Mary McKee joined the family in 1799, according to her death record on December 17, 1855, when she died of consumption at age 56. She married John Larimer in January of 1820 and lived the longest of the children who stayed in Washington County, and the second longest of all of Elizabeth’s children.

Ann McKee, my ancestor, was probably born between 1799 and 1801, but no later than 1804, based on multiple census records. Considering the dates on all of them, the most likely birth year was 1800. She married Charles Speak in February of 1823. For some reason, when her sisters were being assigned guardians in 1822, she was not, which lends credibility to the 1800 birth date.

Unfortunately, we don’t have the 1800 census either, but the tax list shows Andrew with 4 horses in 1800, 6 in 1801, and 7 again in 1802.

By 1800, his oldest sons, James and William, would have been maybe 8 and 10, old enough to ride horses and certainly to help at the barn and in the fields.

Daughter Charity McKee was born sometime between 1801 and March of 1805. Charity was a minor in June of 1818 when a guardian was appointed. She married William Griever in May of 1823.

Daughter Jane McKee was born after 1801 and probably in 1802 or 1803 based on the fact that she was a minor in January of 1822 and married about 1823.

Elizabeth McKee, named in her father’s will, also called Eliza in other records, was born probably in 1803 or 1804, but before March 1805 when Andrew wrote his will. She was a minor in January of 1822 and married Eleazer Rouse in January of 1823

In the spring of 1803 and 1804, Andrew had 8 horses.

Something Happened in March of 1805

Something bad happened in March of 1805 – so severe that whatever it was caused Andrew McKee to write his will at about 40 years of age. We don’t know what, but he was obviously either very ill or badly injured. Elizabeth must have been terrified. She was either pregnant, or had a babe in arms, and probably both.

Story of her life. Her oldest child, Sally, was probably 15 or 16, so at least able to help reliably in the house and with food preparation. Her next four older children were boys and could help in the barn and at least tend the stock.

It’s thanks to Andrew’s will that we discover Elizabeth’s name, and he refers to their children and names them, first the boys, then the girls, in what appears to be birth order.

Andrew pulled through, survived, and was well enough to father at least three additional children.

On April 5, 1805, Andrew had 10 horses on the tax list, so during his illness, someone had to look after the horses and his other livestock. Not to mention, March and April are plowing time, getting ready to plant. Who helped him?

Tax Lists

Given that I was already reading more than 3000 unindexed tax record pages, one by one, spanning nearly 60 years (yes, you read that right), I was also keeping an eye on William McKee in Abingdon, just in case there would be something to tie him to Andrew. Sometimes you find amazing and unexpected tidbits.

Normally, William in Abingdon had one horse, or none, but paid a hefty tax for one and sometimes two stores, plus eventually, a tanyard.

In 1806, Andrew had 8 horses, then 7 in 1807. 1808 is missing.

Tithables Tell Tales

In 1809, Andrew is taxed with two tithables for the first time, plus 9 horses. This complicates things a bit. To begin with, we don’t know if white male tithables are taxed at age 16 or 21 that year. Based on what I know of other years in Virginia records, and Washington County later, white males 16 and over are taxed because they could work productively. This additional tithe would be James which would put his birth year at 1793. However, remember that 1808 was missing. If he were on that tax list, that puts his birth year at 1792, which is at least more in line with other records.

The next year, in 1810, Andrew had two tithables and 5 horses.

Finally, a Census – 1810

Between 1805 and the first extant census, in 1810, Elizabeth had two more girls and a boy not listed in Andrew’s will.

Based on the fact that they had 10 children in 1805, and 13 in 1810, we can infer that Elizabeth had a child every 19 months or so from 1788 through 1804. That’s just about exactly how often one would expect if every child lived, which would have been very unusual.

If a child died at birth, the mother had another baby about a year later, so we have no way of knowing if Elizabeth lost a child or two – but we do know that the majority of her children lived.

Daughter Rebecca McKee was born sometime between 1805 and 1809, probably about 1808, based on what little we know about her children.

Another daughter, Margaret McKee, only discovered this past week, was born after March of 1805 and before the 1810 census. More on her rather amazing story in a few minutes!

A male child was born after Andrew’s 1805 will and the 1810 census. That could be Alexander McKee, but I’m not convinced. I think he was born later, and the child in the 1810 census died.

But before we discuss that, let’s look at what else happened in 1810.

Sally McKee and Robert Larimer

On December 6th, just a few weeks before Christmas in 1810, Elizabeth’s first child, Sally, married Robert Larimer. Sally’s first child and Elizabeth’s last child were the same age. In fact, it’s possible that Elizabeth’s last child was younger than Sally’s first child. They would not be the first mother-daughter pair giving birth at the same time.

Sally McKee and Robert Larimer had many children before Sally’s death sometime after 1840. Robert married Rachel Debusk in July of 1847. Rachel was 18 years younger than his oldest child with Sally.

  • Rebecca Larimer 1811-1841
  • Andrew J. Larimer 1812-1849
  • William Larimer 1814-1879
  • John Larimer 1815/1818-1859
  • Mary Jane Larimer c 1817-1855
  • Female born 1810-1820 (1840 census)
  • James Larimer 1819-1890
  • Robert Eakins Larimer 1822-1882
  • Andrew Edmondson Larimer c 1824-1908
  • Isaac Larimer 1828-1856 (was living with James McKee, his uncle, in 1850)
  • Samuel M. Larimer 1831-1875
  • Emmett B. Larimer 1832-1877

It appears that Sally and Robert lost at least three children, the daughter born between 1810 and 1820, one in 1826 and another in 1830.

William’s Death

In 1811, Andrew McKee has three tithables, plus 4 horses which means the second son has turned 16. Based on this, second son William’s birth year would be 1795. However, this does not add up for William’s birth year – but is almost exactly Edward’s birth year of 1795.

Given this, I think that William probably died in either 1810 after the census, or early 1811 before the tax list.

Is that 1810 Male Child Alexander?

The last child was Alexander, probably after the 1810 census. He never married, and thanks to him mentioning his sisters and their children in his 1839 will, we know that Rebecca existed.

However, there’s something interesting about Alexander. We know that Elizabeth and Andrew have a boy in the 1810 census, and also a boy under 10 in the 1820 census. It’s probable that these are two different boys. To be Alexander, the boy on the census would have to have been born in 1810 before the census, because in 1820, he’s in the under-10 category, and in 1830, in the 15-19 group, which would mean he was born 1811-1815. Of course, we know that census ages can be fluid. So, I’d say Alexander was born about 1811, but this also means that Elizabeth lost another child – the boy on the 1810 census.

If Elizabeth was 21 when she married in 1788, she would have been 43 in 1810. Of course, she could have been a couple of years younger when she married.

All I can think of is how bone-tired that woman would have been.

Maybe after Alexander’s birth, Elizabeth thought perhaps she would have a few years of relative peace and quiet, meaning no new babies arriving. Well, she was wrong about the peace and quiet part. She had no idea what was up ahead.

In 1812 and 1813, Andrew still has three tithables, meaning himself, James, and Edward, with 6 and 5 horses, respectively.

The tax list shows that there is one carriage, not to be confused with a wagon, in the entire county, plus two “riding chairs.”

Return From the War of 1812

In 1813, James McKee, Elizabeth’s eldest son, then about 21 years old, would march away to war.

He enlisted to serve in the War of 1812 in August of 1813, served at Fort Norfolk, Virginia, and was discharged on March 10, 1814.

He was allowed 24 days for travel home, 480 miles to Washington County, VA from Fort Norfolk, which means about 20 miles a day, hopefully on a horse and not on foot. However, I’d bet he was walking, because horses were expensive commodities and my ancestors who served in that war all walked, including Nicholas Speaks who also served from Washington County. In fact, that connection may be how James McKee’s sister, Ann, met her future husband, Nicholas Speak’s son, Charles, but I digress.

James, according to his enlistment, had dark hair and blue eyes.

James would have arrived home in the first week of April. He might, just might, have been in time.

Andrew Dies

Andrew McKee’s will was probated on June 21, 1814. Andrew would have died sometime in the 90 days prior.

Andrew’s death was probably sudden, and probably a shock, given that he never updated his will.

If Elizabeth turned 43 or so when her last child was born in 1810, in 1814, she would have been roughly 47. Perhaps as young as 45 or as old as 50. Andrew was about the same age, maybe slightly older.

Regardless, she had a three or four-year-old child and stair-step children, with at least 11 children still at home.

Andrew’s will was probated in court on June 21, 1814, with both Samuel Kelly and John Kelly Jr. serving as executors, just as they had been instructed back in 1805. The men who had signed as witnesses to Andrew’s 1805 will were Andrew Edmiston, John Todd, and Andrew E. Kelly. The Kelly men were all sons of John Kelly Sr., Andrew’s original neighbor.

Three Kelly men are involved, two as executors with no bond required. That’s exactly what one would expect to see of close family members or very close friends. I suspect the answer to who was helping Andrew McKee back in 1805 was John Kelly and probably his sons, who were somewhat older than Andrew’s children.

Andrew Jr.

The 1814 tax list confirms an approximate birth year for Andrew Jr.

Unfortunately, the 1814 tax list is not dated. Dates range from February through late April. Andrew McKee is still listed with 2 tithes. He would be gone, although the farm would still be in his name. James wouldn’t be listed either because he was in the military, so these two tithes would be Edward and Andrew, which places Andrew’s birth year about 1798, which is about right.

Andrew’s Will

Like with every widow in that time, the terms of Andrew’s will dictated the rest of Elizabeth’s life, unless she chose to remarry, of course.

Andrew left his two plantations to the four boys who were living in 1805.

Elizabeth can stay in the “dwelling house” so long as she doesn’t remarry. She has the right to one-third of the money from the sale of Andrew’s personal property. Of course, everything is Andrew’s personal property except for Elizabeth’s clothes.

Elizabeth can keep as many children with her as she wants, but the executors are to bind out the rest of them to learn a trade. Generally, that only means males unless the children are literally starving.

The executors are to rent out the plantations to provide income and support for Elizabeth and the children.

The balance of his money, except for Elizabeth’s third, is to go to his six daughters, plus the sons are to pay the daughters $200.

Of course, by the time Andrew died, one of his original sons had died, and he had a new one – at least one. He also had eight daughters instead of six.

Life is What Happens When You’re Making Other Plans

Elizabeth’s life came unraveled at that point. Thank God her son James was back home, because she really, really needed his help on the two plantations.

I’m actually very surprised that Elizabeth didn’t remarry. That was certainly the custom of the time, especially for widows with young children. Of her 13 children, 11 were still at home, and Alexander was 3 or 4.

Elizabeth’s older sons were adults. In 1814, James was 23, William was gone of course, Edward was about 19, and Edward was about 17.

My guess, and that’s what it is at this point, but it’s logical, is that everyone stayed put in the homeplace, and James simply took over the daily chores and running the farm.

In fact, that’s what the 1815 tax list tells us.

Elizabeth has 2 tithes (Edward and Andrew), 3 horses, 5 cows, and 1 chest of drawers. More personal property is being taxed that year.

James McKee also has 1 tithable, 3 horses, and 5 cows.

By comparison, William McKee, the merchant in Abingdon has 12 rush bottom chairs, 1 side board, 2 looking glasses, 4 plates, 5 cut goblets, 3 tumblers, 1 bowl and several other things. Yes, he’s doing VERY well. He has a new business partner and is paying for 2 stores.

Andrew’s Estate Sale

The difficult part for Elizabeth was going to be the estate sale. Everything had to be sold. How was James, or any of the sons, supposed to farm without Andrew’s farm tools?

Yet the estate sale had to take place.

Other than Elizabeth, James bought the most, including a saddle and bridle, a bull, a heifer, 2 steers, a black mare, and a grindstone.

Andrew, who was 18 or so by the time the sale took place, bought a saddle and bridle too, along with some farming equipment, a black horse, and a sorrel colt. He was obviously planning to farm.

That left Elizabeth. Poor Elizabeth.

She would have had the right to one-third of the proceeds of the sale, including the money she spent, herself.

I’m hoping they allowed her to just run a “credit,” and subtracted the money for what she wanted from the total. I can’t even imagine having to purchase my own items from my “husband’s” estate.

To care for herself and all of her children, she purchased:

  • 1 bedstead, bed and furniture
  • 1 small and 1 large bedstead and bed
  • 1 bed
  • 1 chest of drawers
  • 2 spinning wheels
  • 1 table
  • 6 old chairs
  • cupboard and furniture
  • 1 counting reel
  • 3 old keggs
  • 1 bag
  • 2 baskets
  • 2 lines
  • 1 loom
  • 1 hackle
  • 2 pair cards
  • Flat iron
  • 1 large kettle
  • 2 churns
  • 1 small pot
  • 1 pot
  • 1 oven
  • 1 pail and washtub
  • 2 pot racks
  • 4 cows
  • 1 grey mare
  • 6 sheep

It’s evident that the cows were for milk, as evidenced by the churns to make butter. The sheep would have been for wool, as evidenced by the spinning wheel to spin the wool into strands which can be carded and woven on the loom.

I was curious about the hackle which is a type of comb used to clean wool and flax before spinning.

The counting reel is used to wrap yarn before producing shanks of yarn.

The cards were to card and comb the wool.

Elizabeth was very clearly a weaver. You can watch a video of a woman reenact weaving from this timeframe, here and here. Notice the basket hung on the loom. Women used baskets and bags for everything from gathering produce from the garden and eggs from the chickens to holding wool.

Today, the bedroom in the McKee home retains the spinning wheel, probably where Elizabeth’s sat all those years ago. The only difference would have been a candle instead of a lamp, and no fan, of course. I wonder if the loom was here too, or maybe in front of the second hearth.

Elizabeth spent a total $85.56 buying her property back. Everything else was sold, including pots, ovens, skillets, and kettles. Some went to her children, James and Andrew McKee. Her son-in-law, Robert Larimer, spelled Larrymore, bought 17 geese and 4 sheep. I bet her daughter, Sally, was a weaver too.

John Larimer, who was not yet her son-in-law, bought Andrew’s still, the single most expensive item at the sale. I guess the still left the family, then eventually married back in a few years later!

The total sale brought $671.69, which means Elizabeth was entitled to $223.90. She bought $85.56 worth of goods, so she would have been due $138.34.

The final sale document was filed with the court on February 20, 1816. The sale had taken place the previous August.

James McKee and Sally Roe

According to James McKee’s widow, Sarah (Sally) Roe’s pension application, she states that they were married by the Baptist preacher on January 4, 1816. James was clearly buying equipment at his father’s estate sale with the intention of marrying and starting a family.

James and Sarah would have:

  • Nancy McKee 1817-1875
  • Mary Ann McKee 1820-1897
  • Andrew J. McKee 1822-1862
  • John R. McKee 1826-1863
  • Eliza J. McKee 1827-1911
  • Rebecca McKee 1830-1907
  • Madison McKee 1831-1855
  • William B. McKee 1832-1902 who died in Smyth Co., VA
  • Margaret L. McKee 1835-1875
  • Sarah J. McKee 1838-1915, who died in California
  • Joanna McKee 1841-1898, who died in Exeter, California
  • James A. McKee 1842-1918, who died in Parsons, Kansas

It looks like they may have lost children born in 1819, presumably the boy in the 1820 census, 1824, maybe 1829, maybe 1834, 1837, and maybe 1839. Elizabeth would have been alive for all of these deaths except the last one.

Elizabeth lived beside James until her death, so she would have been close to these children.

Andrew McKee and Nancy Roe

Just two months later, on March 17, 1816, Andrew McKee married Nancy Roe, possibly Sally’s sister. They had two children, in 1817 and 1819, before Nancy died between 1820 and 1822.

Spreading Wings

Fortunately, Elizabeth’s children had begun to marry – but unfortunately, of course, it was the eldest who were the ablest to help.

1816 seems to be the year that several children spread their wings and set out on their own. Of course, the boys had their father’s property and the money from the sale. They settled on the same land as Elizabeth, or nearby. James likely took the neighboring plantation. Maybe the other boys built houses on some of the land, creating their own little “McKee Village.”

The 1816 tax list shows:

  • James McKee 1 – 3 – 54 cents
  • Edward McKee 1 – 1 – 16 or 18 cents
  • Elizabeth McKee 0 – 2 horses – 30 or 36 cents
  • Andrew McKee 1 – 2 – 36 cents

It’s interesting to compare the amount of taxes with the amount various items brought at Andrew’s sale. A wheel was 30 cents, which I’m presuming is a spinning wheel. An oven was 50 cents. A pot rack was 30 cents, and a small pot was 25 cents.

For William of Abingdon, the cost of one merchant license for his mercantile store in Abingdon was $20.

In 1817, Elizabeth has no tithes, so no males 16 and over, 2 horses, and paid 30 cents tax. James, Edward, and Andrew McKee had one tithe each and 4, 1, and 2 horses, respectively.

What Happened in 1818?

Something is going on in 1818. I wonder if Elizabeth, by then 51 or so with 8 children at home, became ill. She’s missing on the tax list. She would only be listed for her personal property, at least until Alexander reached age 16, but she’s absent entirely, meaning she had no horses either. All 3 of her adult sons are listed with 8 horses between them.

On June 16, 1818 — John Clark was named guardian of Charity McKee, orphan of Andrew McKee, deceased.

Charity was probably the oldest child at home who was not of age, but she wasn’t the oldest at home. Ann and Mary were both still living at home. Furthermore, her 5 younger siblings did not have a guardian appointed.

This is strange.

Edward McKee and Mary Hand

On December 20, 1818, Edward McKee married Mary Hand. They had a child in 1819 who died before 1830, then a child in 1820 and 1822.

  • Andrew G. McKee was born in 1824 and died in 1883 in Texas.
  • Another child was born in 1826
  • William McKee was born in 1828. In 1847, Andrew McKee was named guardian of William McKee, orphan of Edward. James McKee was the surety.
  • Another child was born in 1829.

Sadly, Edward McKee’s inventory was dated October 27, 1831. His wife was pregnant at his death. He was only 35 or 36 years old

  • Alexander B. McKee was born in 1832 and died in 1833.

In 1819, James, Edward, Andrew, and Elizabeth are still listed on the tax list. Elizabeth has no tithes, of course. James has 4 horses and is taxed 72 cents, and everyone else has one horse each and is taxed 18 cents. I wonder if Elizabeth’s horse is for riding or for plowing, or both.

Everything is the same in 1820 except Edward and Elizabeth now have 2 horses each

Interestingly, the neighbor, John Kelly is on a list of people to whom licenses were issued for merchants, hawkers and peddlers, ordinary keepers, and keepers of houses of private entertainment. I can’t help but wonder what John was up to. My guess, based on an account book a generation or so later, is that he started a country store that catered to farm families.

Mary McKee and John Larimer

On January 20, 1820, Mary McKee married John Larimer. Yes, the same John Larimer who purchased several items a few years earlier at her father’s estate sale, including his still. His first wife had died, and Mary became a stepmother to two children only slightly younger than her.

Mary and John had:

  • Jessee Larimer born in 1821
  • Andrew Larimer 1822-1895
  • William G. Larimer 1823-1896
  • Alexander W. Larimer 1827
  • Eliza Larimer 1829
  • Ann Larimer 1831
  • Nancy Larimer 1833
  • Edward F. Larimer 1835
  • Jeremiah Fulton Larimer 1836-1919
  • Catherine Larimer 1837

Looks like they lost one baby in 1825. Elizabeth would have helped her daughter with that grief.

1820 Census

The 1820 census is interesting. Unfortunately, it’s in alphabetical order, not in house order.

We find:

  • Andrew and Edward McKee, both with young families. Both are ages 16-25, both with a wife the same age, 1 son and 1 daughter, each, under 10. Both are engaged in manufacturing of some sort.
  • James McKee with a family of 5, including 1 male 26-44, 2 females under 10, 2 females 16-25, one of whom may have been his sister.
  • Elizabeth McKee with a family of 6, 1 female over 45, 2 females 16-25, 2 females 10-15, 1 male under 10.

Also, in 1820 Andrew McKee sold his share of his father’s estate to his brother, James.

Sometime between the census in 1820 and December of 1822, Andrew McKee’s wife, Nancy Roe, died. Of course, we’ll never know why. After her death, I expect her mother and Elizabeth would both have been trying to help Andrew with two babies.

I wonder if this is what caused Andrew to sell his land to James.

Nov. 11, 1820 – Andrew McKee to James McKee 8-289 – Andrews McKee Jr. of Washington Co. for $75 to James McKee “my right and title of all claims in my father’s estate.”

I don’t know where Andrew was living, or maybe he was still living in the same place, but working for his brother. Maybe he left for a while. He certainly couldn’t nurse or raise a baby and a toddler and farm by himself.

On the 1821 tax list, we find Elizabeth with 2 horses and colts, James with the same, and Edward with 1 horse, but no Andrew.

Guardian Drama

In 1822 we find Edward McKee with 1 horse, James with 5 horses, and again, no Andrew. Elizabeth is missing this year too.

The events in January 1822 might provide a clue about Elizabeth.

On January 15, 1822, James McKee was named guardian of Jane and Eliza McKee, orphans of Andrew McKee, deceased, Bond: $250. Surety: John Clark.

Is this Andrew who died in 1814, or his son, Andrew? Did son Andrew die too? As it turns out, no, he didn’t. These are Elizabeth’s daughters, but it’s certainly unclear from this record.

In 1822, Elizabeth would have been about 55. Was she ill or unable to provide for her children? If so, then why were guardians appointed for just the older minor children left at home? Yet, there were three other minor children at home, the youngest three, with no guardian appointed.

I sure would like to know what was going on, and why.

Andrew McKee and Rachel Fisher

On December 19, 1822, Andrew McKee married Rachel Fisher. They had children in 1823, 1824, 1825, 1826, 1828, and 1830. In 1847, Andrew was appointed guardian for his brother Edward’s son. I can’t find Andrew or Rachel after that.

The 1823 tax list shows that Andrew is back again with 1 tithe and no horse, but the tax list must be incomplete because neither James nor Elizabeth are listed.

I’m so glad Andrew seems to be doing better and starting over again. Elizabeth must have heaved a huge sigh of relief.

1822 and 1823 were clearly a time of joy and weddings!

Eliza McKee and Eleazer Rouse

Eliza McKee, Elizabeth’s namesake, married Eleazer Rouse on January 23, 1823. She reportedly died after 1870 in Columbus, Bartholomew County, Indiana, but I cannot find her on the census. She and Eleazer migrated after his father, John Rouse, died in 1831. In 1835, Eleazer obtained a land grant in Indiana.

They had children:

  • Frank Rouse 1823-1823
  • Male Rouse 1824-1940
  • Eunice Rouse 1825-1825
  • Andrew J. Rouse 1826-1826
  • Mary Ann Rouse 1829-1860 died in Bartholomew County, Indiana
  • Female Rouse 1830-1840

  • John Rouse 1830-1883 was an invalid by 1877 according to his Civil War pension index card and died in Bartholomew County, Indiana. I can’t help but wonder if his eye condition is congenital or a result of an injury, and if he was allowed to serve with the condition.
  • William Rouse 1833-1886, born and died in Bartholomew County, Indiana
  • Sarah Rouse 1834-1861, born and died in Bartholomew County, Indiana

Eliza buried at least three children in Washington County before leaving for Indiana.

Eliza would have been Elizabeth’s second child to leave, taking with her 3 or 4 of Elizabeth’s grandchildren that she would never see again.

Elizabeth’s tears must have watered their hair as she hugged and kissed them goodbye one last time – committing their faces to memory forever. Would they remember her?

Ann McKee and Charles Speak

On February 27, 1823, Ann McKee married Charles Speak, son of Nicholas Speak who would found the Speaks Methodist Church in Lee County, Virginia. Ann and Charles joined him there shortly after their wedding. So far, none of Elizabeth’s children had left, except for James who went to war. But he returned.

It must have been crushing for Elizabeth to watch the wagon pull away with her daughter, headed for Lee County. I wonder how she felt about her daughter marrying a Methodist who converted from being a Presbyterian.

Of course, 114 miles today would have been a week in a wagon then, one way, or perhaps more, depending on the weather and terrain.

Elizabeth knew she would never see her daughter again, or any of Ann’s children. How her heart must have ached.

Anne’s father-in-law, Nicholas Speaks, the Methodist minister, built this tiny cabin where he raised his family. Charles and Ann probably lived in a very similar cabin on the same land. It makes the McKee house look huge by comparison.

Ann had six known children, but there must have been more, specifically in 1830, 1834, 1836, 1838, and 1840.

  • Sarah Jane Speak 1824-1888, married Andrew Callahan
  • Nicholas Speak 1825-1869, married Rachel Callahan
  • Andrew McKee Speak 1826-1900, died in Grant County, Kentucky
  • Rebecca M. Speak was born in 1827, married James Painter and died after 1867 in Kentucky
  • Charity Speak 1829-after 1880, married Adam Harvey Johnson
  • Elizabeth Ann Speaks 1832-1907, married Samuel Claxton and died in Hancock County, Tennessee

Ann’s last known child, Elizabeth Speaks, named for her grandmother, was born in 1832, in Lawrence County, Indiana, of all places. This family didn’t stay in Indiana, but returned to Lee County, Virginia before 1840. I can’t help but wonder why they reverse-migrated.

We are fortunate that pictures exist of two of Elizabeth’s grandchildren who were living in the time of the Civil War when cameras began to be used, but only for very special occasions. This is Elizabeth Ann Speaks who married Samuel Claxton, a Union soldier from Tennessee who died as the result of that War.

Both Ann McKee and Charles Speaks died sometime between 1840 and 1850. At least Elizabeth never had to receive THAT letter, but she probably did receive letters telling her that at least three of Ann’s children, in a row, had perished prior to 1840. Or maybe Ann spared her mother those messages and simply said nothing.

Not only did Elizabeth never see her daughter again, but Ann didn’t see her mother either. That must have been incredibly difficult.

Charity McKee and William Griever

The third 1823 marriage (and 4th McKee wedding in 6 months) took place on May 22, 1823, when Charity McKee married William Griever.

They had at least five children.

  • Mary Ann Griever born in 1824
  • Male child born about 1825
  • John Griever born about 1826
  • Charles Griever born about 1827
  • Female child born about 1830

Charity had died sometime before February 1837 when William remarried to Mary Wisely. Between 1838 and 1840, this family relocated to Lee County, Virginia.

In 1824 Elizabeth is on the tax list with 2 horses. Andrew has 1 tithe and no horses. How is he living without a horse? James has 2 horses, and Edward has 1.

In 1825, Elizabeth still has 2 horses, James has 3, and Edward has 2. Un oh – Andrew is missing again.

Jane McKee and Richard Jones

Jane McKee married Richard Jones sometime after 1822 when she was assigned a guardian and before 1825, based on the 1830 census. She died before her brother, Alexander, whose will mentioned her children. She and Richard had five children.

Richard Jones was dead by October 28, 1837, when his property was sold, and he was noted as deceased. Jane was gone before March of 1839.

  • Andrew McKee Jones 1824/26-1911
  • John Jones 1826/28-1864
  • Elizabeth M. Jones 1830-1905
  • Sarah Ann Jones 1836
  • Fanny R. Jones c 1838-1861

Jane lost at least three children, in 1828, 1832, and 1834. I wonder if all these McKee children are buried in the McKee Cemetery.

On March 13, 1826, Elizabeth has three horses, Edward has 1, and James has 3.

On March 1, 1827, Elizabeth has 2 horses, James has 4, Edward has 1, and Andrew has none.

Alexander McKee Turns 16

In 1828, one male tithe appears on Elizabeth’s tax list. That would be Alexander. If he is 16, that puts his birth in 1812. These years seem to be a year odd, so maybe this is the tax for the prior year. That would put his birth in 1811, which makes perfect sense. That does, however, suggest that the male under 10 in 1810 is not Alexander and subsequently died before 1820.

Rebecca McKee and William Jamison

Rebecca McKee married William Jamison sometime around 1829 or 1830 following his wife’s death. He had four children from his first marriage. Rebecca and William had two known children:

  • William Hardy Jamison 1833-1887
  • Sarah (Sallie) Jamison 1835-1837/1842

William Jamison’s estate was probated November 27, 1837. Rebecca attended her mother’s estate sale in 1838, but was gone by the time that Alexander wrote his will in March of 1839

The 1829 tax list shows tithes and horses

  • Andrew McKee 1 – – –
  • James McKee 1 – – 5
  • Elizabeth McKee 1 – – 3
  • Edward McKee 2 – – 2

The 1830 Census

The 1830 census shows us that Elizabeth is 50-59, so born between 1771 and 1780. I suspect she is older than that.

She has three children living with her. I have connected the names with the ages of the people they must be.

  • Rebecca is 20-29, so born 1801-1810
  • Margaret is 20-29, so born 1801-1810. It’s this record that confirms that the Margaret we discover a few years later fits into this family in this location.
  • Alexander is 15-19, so born 1811-1815.

In 1830, the tax man made his rounds on March 25th:

  • James McKee 1 – – 5 40 cents
  • Elizabeth McKee 1 – – 3 24 cents
  • Edward McKee 2 – – 2 16 cents
  • Andrew McKee 1 – – – no tax

Andrew never seems to do as well as Elizabeth’s other children.

Edward McKee Dies

1831 was a grief-filled year for Elizabeth. While losing a young child is difficult, losing an adult child is devastating. When a young child passes, the parent loses the possibilities and hope. Loses their sweetness and the vision of their life. But when an adult child passes, a parent loses the entirety of their life.

In this case, Elizabeth also had to watch Edward’s pregnant wife, Polly, and children suffer. Polly had given birth to 4 children, as recorded in the 1830 census, but only two of those children lived to adulthood. Polly’s grieving wasn’t over.

Edward clearly didn’t expect to die. He was only 35 or 36 years old and had 4 children under the age of 7. Things seemed to be going well. Polly was pregnant for baby number 5 who would be arriving sometime the next year.

There was no will, not even a deathbed nuncupative, or oral, will. He didn’t even have time for that. Just Edward McKee’s estate inventory, dated October 27, 1831, submitted by Polly. That tells us that Edward died in the 90 days prior, probably in the summer of 1831. Perhaps Elizabeth helped Polly make the list of their household goods to submit to the court.

Based on Edward’s inventory, he had been a shoemaker and also owned carpentry tools.

He probably lived on the land where Elizabeth lived, or the property next door. There were two farms, and Andrew had left the farms to the boys. Andrew (Jr.) had already sold his portion to his brother James. Someone had to be working the farm where Elizabeth lived.

Polly gave birth to the child sometime in 1832, and that baby died the following year, joining Edward on the other side.

Edward is present on the 1831 tax list.

  • Andrew McKee 1 – – – – –
  • Edward McKee 2 – 3
  • Elizabeth McKee 1 – 3
  • James McKee 1 – 5

The 1832 tax list reflects Edward’s death.

  • February 8 – Mrs. Polly McKee – – 1
  • March 12 – Mrs. Elizabeth McKee 1 – 2
  • James McKee 1 – 4
  • April 14 – Andrew McKee 1 – – –

Alexander Comes of Age

The 1833 tax list shows some changes.

  • James McKee 1 – 3
  • Alexander McKee 1 – 1
  • Mary McKee – – 2

Polly is still there under the name of Mary, synonymous with Polly, and she has two horses.

However, Elizabeth is absent, and now Alexander has taken her place on the tax list. This tells me that he has come of age, 21 years, so born about 1812 or maybe as early as 1811, and he is taking over the farm where Elizabeth lives. He’s no longer a tithe on his mother’s tax list, but in charge as an adult. The farm will be his, and so is the accompanying tax bill!

Elizabeth is now 67 years old and is likely very grateful for this shift.

She probably has her hands full trying to help Edward’s wife, Polly, with her babies and trying to manage that farm. I suspect that James is helping too, as is Alexander and Polly’s family, although her parents are elderly and pass away within a year or so. I can’t help but wonder if another wave of dysentery or flux is being passed among family, friends, and neighbors there on the Middle Fork of the Holston River. Death records from a few years later show this pattern.

On November 12 of 1833, Mary “Polly” Hand McKee remarried to Robert Sherwood, which was probably a relief for everyone.

They were living in Washington County in 1840, but I don’t find either of them in 1850. In 1847, Andrew McKee was named guardian of William McKee, orphan of Edward. James McKee was the surety. This might be a sad clue as to what happened to Polly and Robert.

Elizabeth’s oldest grandchild, Andrew J. Larimer, married Isabella McClure on October 26, 1833, in Smyth County, Virginia. The next generation is beginning. This must have been a joyful day!

I wonder if Elizabeth sat down at her loom and wove her first grandchild to marry a special wool comforter. I bet she did!

In 1834 Alexander had one horse, and James had 4. They had the same number as 1835, and the tax man visited one day apart, February 24 and 25.

In 1836, both were visited on February 17th, and by this time, Alexander had 2 horses.

Of course, the tax list is only a very broad brushstroke of what was actually happening within the family. Elizabeth had many grandchildren. Several were born each year, and sadly, several probably died as well. We will never know all of their names. Perhaps Elizabeth spent a lot of time helping her daughters and daughters-in-law.

The changes that happened in 1837 aren’t shown by the tax list. On March 1st, 1837, James and Alexander had the same number of horses as the year before.

That was before all Hell broke loose in the McKee family.

The 1830s Were Brutal

Something was happening in the middle and late 1830s. Or maybe it was just the grim reaper carrying his staff of Dysentery, Consumption, and Bloody Flux, raging across the countryside again.

Elizabeth’s daughter, Charity had died sometime after 1830 and before March of 1837 when William Griever remarried. My best bet would be that they lost all the children born in the 1830s, then finally Charity herself in 1835 or 1836.

James McKee lost a child in 1837.

Jane McKee’s husband, Richard Jones, died, with his estate being sold on October 28, 1837. Jane was pregnant at the time and had a baby in 1838, but Jane herself was gone before May of 1839, and the baby too, soon thereafter.

The estate of Rebecca McKee’s husband, William Jamison, was probated on November 27, 1837.

Elizabeth McKee and Margaret McKee both died in the 90 days before their estates were filed on February 26, 1838, so sometime during the winter.

Rebecca McKee Jamison died sometime between her mother’s estate sale in March of 1838 and her brother’s death in May of 1839.

Alexander McKee, a young man about 27 or 28, wrote his will on May 20, 1839 and probably died shortly thereafter. It was probated on July 22, 1839.

However, there was someone else who died in late 1837 or early 1838 that we didn’t know about before.

Another Child for Elizabeth

The fact that Elizabeth McKee never remarried served us in good stead, because it meant she owned her own personal property, and her estate was registered with the court. Maybe she swore she’d never have to purchase her own property back again.

I can only wish she had a will, but she didn’t.

Cousin Carol found and sent me the link to Elizabeth’s estate administration, but that’s not the only thing I found. Of course, to find Elizabeth’s entry, I had to read the entire page, beginning at the top.

February 26, 1838

On motion of James McKee who took the oath of an administrator…bond $500 with Robert Larrimor his security as the law directs. Granted to administer the estate of Margaret McKee decd, in due form.

Of course, James McKee is Elizabeth’s son, and Robert Larimore is her son-in-law.

Ordered that Andrew E. Kelly, Samuel Kelly, Alexander M. Robinson, and James Allen or any 3 of them sworn before a justice…to view and appraise all the personal estate of Margaret Mckee decd.

Wait?

Margaret?

Who’s Margaret McKee?

No, no, I’m searching for Elizabeth.

There’s Elizabeth, following Margaret.

For a minute, I thought that either they had incorrectly written Elizabeth as Margaret, or Elizabeth’s name was actually Margaret, but then I realized that there were actually two nearly identical entries, scribed the same day, by the clerk, one after the other.

Who was Margaret McKee? I had to know. This question sent me into an insane rabbit hole – literally for days. Ok, maybe a couple of weeks. But when I emerged into the light of day, I knew who Margaret was, AND, far, far more about this family. That’s the information I’ve compiled, here, to write Elizabeth’s story.

What else can we discover about Margaret?

And why would her estate have been entered just ahead of Elizabeth’s?

What the heck was going on?

March 3, 1838 – Margaret’s property was inventoried, appraised, and filed on April 28th in court.

Also, on March 3rd, her estate was sold.

The proceeds were filed on April 23rd in court.

Purchaser Item Amount
Granville C. Parks 1 dun cow 11.00
William Allen 1 black cow 10.675
James C. Kelly 1 brindle heifer 5.00
Nickerson Snead 1 dun calf 4.00
Samuel Snodgrass 2 sows 4 pigs 4.60
James McKee 1 bed and furniture 20.25
Adams Helnick 1 saddle 12.00
Samuel Parmer 1 bridle 1.00
James McKee 1 set plates .77
Lucy Franklin 1 set plates .60
Lewis Smith Set cups and saucers .40
Lewis Smith Set cheny cups and saucers 1.00
Rachel Grieves 3 glasses and 1 pitcher .60
Lewis Smith 1 sugar bowl .40
Rachel Grieves 1 lot of ware 1.17
Andrew Kelly 4 bowls .40
John Ensly Pitcher 70 cents, looking glass 1.55 2.25
Rachel Grieves 1 baker and lid 1.20
Susan Calihan 1 tin bucket .57
James McKee 1 table .35
Andrew Edmondson 1 iron shovel .55
Thomas Lilley 1 wooden bowl .50
Nelly Winn 1 lot crocks .47
John Kelly 2 chairs .40
James Lilly 1 rone mare 35.00
William Griever 7 geese 1.75
Lewis Smith 1 sheet .55
Andrew Larimore 1 set knives and forks 1.25

Elizabeth’s son and son-in-law both purchased items. I’ve bolded family members making purchases, along with items in Margaret’s and Elizabeth’s estates that match items purchased by Elizabeth at Andrew’s estate, back in 1814, all those years ago.

I notice that Margaret has eating utensils, but no cooking items, like pots and kettles. I’d wager that those were all Elizabeth’s.

People apparently paid Margaret’s estate during 1838, 1839 and 1840.

Just a month earlier, Elizabeth’s own estate had been appraised and sold. You’ll notice many of the same purchasers.

Elizabeth’s Estate

On the motion of Robert Larriser (Larimer) who took the oath as administrator…bond of $500 with James McKee granted him to administer the estate of Elizabeth Mckee decd.

The same two family members as administrator and bond, just the roles are reversed.

Ordered that Andrew E. Kelly, Samuel Kelly, Alexander M. Robinson and James Allen or any 3 of them sworn before a justice…to view and appraise all the personal estate of Elizabeth McKee decd.

Item Appraised $ Purchaser Purchase $
Lot of chairs (5) 1.25 James Houston 1.50
2 pots 1.00
Oven and griddle .25 Arthur Speer (oven) .45
Table 1.00 Miss Franklin .55
1 dresser 1.00 James Lilley .55
2 pales .375 Andrew Larrimer .69
lot of old lumber 1.00 John Robinson .40
1 case (chest?) of drawers 6.00 Robert Larimer 6.90
2 bags .25 Thomas Palmer 1.05
1 loom 4.00 Robert Larimer 3.30
1 reel .50 William Griever 1.00
 Hackle 1.00 Rebecca Jamison 1.25
1 lot of books .25 Sinder .50
Vinegar bag .50 Claiborne? Kelly .70
2 cans or canes .30
2 cards and wool shears N Snead .125
Smoothing iron Andrew Edmondson .50
1 pot trammeble or trammelle? .50 Claiborne Kelly .50
1 pewter dish Miss Griever .375
1 lot of old ware James Robinson .31
1 lot of old ware Miss Winn .12
2 small wheels 1.25 Andrew Edmondson .5625
1 large wheel .25 Leven Quillen .55
1 churn .25
1 lot of hogs 6.00
1 lot of sheep 2.50 Susan Callihan 5 heard sheep 3.75
1 bed and furniture 12.00 Miss Farnsworth 15.25
Lot of corn 20 cents per bushel Thomas McGee 45 cents bushel 16.615
Lot of oats 20 cents per bushel Moses Robinson 21.5 per bushel 5.3675
Lot of wheat 62.5 cents per bushel Robert Larrimer 93…5 per bushel 4.625
1 black cow 9.00 N Snead 8.50
1 lot of crocks .875 Sincler or Linder 1.45
1 lot of flax .50
1 crock of fat .30 William Griever .75
1 lot of bacon 6.25 cents per bound Daniel Troxel – 8 cents per pound 7.38
1 sifter .375 Claiborne Kelly .695
1 set plates .375 Lewis Smith .32
4 plates Lewis Smith .24
1 bed and furniture 7.00 Miss Franklin 10.125
1 bed and furniture 3.00 Mitchell Robinson 3.125
1 lot of old lumber 12.5 Robert Sherwood 1.00
2 fat hogs 10.00 Samuel Snodgrass (lot of hogs) 10.55
1 fat hot N. Sneed 5.60
1 fat hog John Tucker? 5.05
1 sow 1.00
1 lot teacups and saucers Arthur Speer .1625
1 lot knives and spoons James Surber .3
1 lot cupboard ware Arthur Speer .35
1 pot James Kelly .60
1 baker Robert Larimer Can’t read
2 pot hooks Miss Franklin .21
1 pot William Griever .135
1 kettle James Kelly .70
1 kettle James McKee 1.86
1 sheet Miss Griever .50
1 sheet Seavis? Smith .40
1 lot wheat Alfred Surber 10.57
2 reeds or reels William Griever .125
1 coffee mill Robert Larimer .0675

Robert Larrimer admin.

Signed by Andrew C. Kelly, Alexander Robinson and Samuel Kelly

Inventory and appraisement of estate of Elizabeth McKee decd returned to court and ordered to be recorded on March 27, 1838.

Several of Elizabeth’s children and their spouses purchased items. Of course, two of her daughters, Ann and Eliza had moved on. Ann was in Lee County, Virginia, and Eliza was living in Indiana.

William Griever purchased. Elizabeth’s daughter, Charity, had already died, but William was clearly still on good terms with the family. Did he bring his daughter, Mary Ann, born in 1824, so would have been 14 years old? Is that the Miss Griever who purchased a sheet and a pewter dish of her grandmothers? Be still my heart.

Elizabeth must have been beaming! From the other side, of course.

I noticed that Elizabeth had purchased six chairs from Andrew’s estate, which were now five. Or maybe one of those chairs was in Margaret’s estate.

Many of the items from Andrew’s estate were purchased by family members, probably in part for sentimental reasons.

Rebecca McKee Jamison had recently been widowed, but was still living and purchased a hackle which tells me she, like her mother, was a weaver. She, too, would be gone before March of 1839.

A settlement of the estate of Elizabeth McKee deceased was returned to court by the commissioner and ordered to be recorded on May 27, 1839.

October 28, 1839

In Elizabeth’s settlement, bills were paid to several people including one to a “girl for nursing the decd when in her last illness – $1.25.” I surely hope that girl didn’t catch whatever it was that was killing McKee family members.

Alexander McKee’s Death

The McKee family’s hell wasn’t over yet.

The tax collector gave me the first hint. Apparently, Alexander wasn’t farming anymore, and I’d wager that James had taken over.

In 1839, on March the second, James McKee has 5 horses, but Alexander isn’t listed.

Elizabeth’s administrators filed on May 27, 1839 with the court that they were ready to settle her estate, but her son, Alexander, had made his will a week earlier signaling that something was very wrong.

Did the family wonder when this string of death was ever going to end? Whatever was claiming this family was brutal.

Alexander McKee’s will was written May 20, 1839, and probated on July 22, 1839 at the next court session.

He stipulated that:

  1. Perishable part of estate to be sold immediately
  2. Land to James McKee which fell to me by heirship to him and his heirs forever and $30
  3. Sister Ann Speaks and her children $30
  4. Sister Jinny Jones children $10
  5. Sister Rebecca Jamison children $10
  6. James McKee executor

Witness Andrew Patterson, Robert Sherwood, James Allen

Probated July 22, 1839, James McKee exec with John Clark Sr. his security

This signifies that both sisters Rebecca and Jinny have passed away. Robert Sherwood is Edward McKee’s widow, Mary Hand McKee’s second husband.

Alexander’s inventory was taken on September 14, 1839 and submitted to court January 27, 1840. It’s worth noting that he has no furniture or kitchen items.

Given that he lived with his mother, between his inventory, that of Elizabeth and Margaret, I’d wager we are seeing the entire contents of that home.

I surely wonder about those three books. Books give us so much insight into the reader.

Given the proximity of their deaths, that they lived together, and that two of the three were relatively young, I can’t help but wonder about consumption. We also know that Elizabeth didn’t die quickly because someone was paid to care for her during her last illness. Consumption is also what took James McKee and his sister, Mary, in 1855.

Widow For 24 Years

Elizabeth was almost widowed in 1805 but was actually widowed nine years later, in 1814, leaving her to care for a passel of stair-step children.

She probably buried Andrew beside or near to their children who had already died, and those who would soon, perhaps in the McKee Cemetery.

For a woman whose name we almost didn’t know, she led an incredibly eventful life. For starters, she lived on the frontier – and survived – for 70 years, plus or minus a year or two.

She was born near the end of the French and Indian War and before the Revolutionary War. She would have been about ten years old, or so, at the outset of the Revolutionary War, and probably lived in either Pennsylvania or Virginia. Her father and brothers may have been soldiers.

I have no idea who her parents were, but I’ve eliminated a number of possibilities. She and Andrew seem to be particularly close to the John Kelly family, their near neighbors, but John Kelly had a will and Elizabeth is not there.

What I can tell you is that Elizabeth was European, based on her base mitochondrial DNA haplogroup J. I’d love to have a direct descendant through all females who is willing to take a mitochondrial DNA test. The tester can be male in the current generation but must descend from Elizabeth through all females to carry her mitochondrial DNA. If this is you, I’m offering a no-cost scholarship, so please reach out.

Elizabeth would have moved westward with her family into the newly formed Washington County, Virginia, still uncut, uncleared woodland, probably after the final battle of the Revolutionary War. Cheap land called opportunity beckoned.

Elizabeth married Andrew McKee, a Scots-Irishman, sometime around 1788. It’s likely that one or both of them had blue eyes, because their son, James, did, along with dark hair.

They settled within sight of the Middle Fork of the Holston River, where they stayed until, literally, the wagon took them to the graveyard. Them and their children too. Elizabeth staked her ground, and she was NOT giving up. That woman’s tenacity is utterly amazing.

The community graveyard was at the Ebbing Springs Church in the beginning, but the family probably established the now lost McKee Cemetery at the southernmost tip of their property during her lifetime. We know son James is buried there, so it stands to reason that she is too. This family alone would have filled the church cemetery!

Elizabeth cooked and cleaned and bore children, like the other pioneer wives. First with Andrew, then alone. But that wasn’t all.

Elizabeth repurchased her own kitchen utensils, along with her spinning wheel, loom, beds, furniture, and livestock at Andrew’s estate sale in 1814.

She would have farmed and butchered and put vegetables up in this root cellar, beside the house, for the winter.

The house was raised and designed defensively.

The family lived in the upper level, probably for safety in terms of possible Indian attack as well as the notorious Holston River floods. The attacks seemed to be mostly in the past after the Revolutionary War, but the floods were everpresent.

Elizabeth likely stored items in the lower level, like these crocks where vegetables and possibly meats would have been brined and pickled. Those three “old keggs” she purchased at Andrew’s estate sale were probably stored here too. She opened this old door thousands of times, bringing vegetables, wool, and other things into the lower level from outside.

We know that Elizabeth churned butter because she bought cows and her own churn at Andrew’s estate sale. She would have milked cows at dawn every morning.

Her extra workspace, even though it did flood from time to time, was probably the envy of every woman in the neighborhood. Of course, when it flooded, the family had to move quickly to keep things dry. They would have had to move their animals to high ground too. Did they get stranded on the second floor by floodwaters from time to time? Those Holston flood waters rise rapidly, and the current is swift and dangerous.

After Andrew’s death, this would all have fallen to Elizabeth to manage.

The house was divided into two sections, with two fireplaces, one at each end with its own chimney. The second fireplace would probably have been the area where her adult son, Alexander, and possibly her daughter Margaret would have lived too. I an only imagine how difficult it was to cut and hew those beams, and lift them into place.

Margaret and Alexander both died about the same time as Elizabeth – Margaret within days, and it’s evident from both of their estate inventories, plus Elizabeth’s, that her children owned no cooking utensils. The good news is that they had each other. The bad news is that they likely all died of Consumption, today’s Tuberculosis, or some other equally-as-awful malady that they shared within the same household – their lives winking out one after the other.

The actual size of this home was probably a luxury, although the stairs weren’t, especially as Elizabeth aged.

Elizabeth packed all 13 of her children into 2 or 3 beds that she purchased at Andrew’s estate sale, as was the custom of the day.

That woman would have worked from sunup to sundown, and past, 7 days a week, 365 days a year. Church, where maybe she could fall asleep unnoticed for a few minutes, might have been her only respite.

Or maybe spinning and weaving on her loom provided that as well – along with much-needed fabric for bedding and clothing.

Based on the tax lists, and guardians being appointed for Elizabeth’s children at different times, it appears that perhaps Elizabeth became ill, or something happened.

Once in 1818, when Elizabeth would have been about 51, and again in 1822.

It baffles me why guardians were only appointed for some of her children, but not all of her minor children.

But, like a Phoenix rising from the ashes, Elizabeth rallied every time. She beat the odds more than once, and, it appears, more than several times. Somehow she managed not to succumb.

Yet, death surrounded her. I simply cannot imagine what this woman endured, or how she managed not to be broken when she had to bury so many people she loved – and that’s not counting her parents and siblings.

Keep in mind that the relatives listed here are only the closest people we know about. Every single one was a person she loved dearly. Someone she missed every day for the rest of her life.

Elizabeth’s son William died in 1810 or 1811 at 17 or 18, which probably broke her heart.

She lost another, younger son, about the same time, who we see in the 1810 census but whose name we don’t know. I wonder if he died of the same thing, at the same time as William – likely Dysentery or Flux.

Then came her husband Andrew’s death in 1814, of course.

Elizabeth also buried her son Andrew’s wife, Nancy Roe about 1820. Andrew didn’t seem to do well after that, at least for a couple of years.

Then, Elizabeth’s son Edward passed away in the fall of 1831, leaving a pregnant wife and small children.

Elizabeth’s daughter, Charity, died sometime after 1830 and before March of 1837 when William Griever remarried. My best bet would be that they lost all the children born in the 1830s, then finally Charity herself in 1835 or 1836.

Elizabeth’s son James McKee lost a child in 1837.

Jane McKee’s husband, Richard Jones, died, with his estate being sold on October 28, 1837. Jane was pregnant at the time and had a baby in 1838, but Jane herself was gone before May of 1839, and the baby too soon thereafter.

The estate of Rebecca McKee’s husband, William Jamison, was probated on November 27, 1837.

This string of very close family members who died must have devastated Elizabeth, and I can’t help but wonder if the entire group was infecting each other with Consumption. Given that Elizabeth’s estate was probated in February of 1838, she was likely already sick by the late fall of 1837 when her two sons-in-law died.

Of course, her daughter Margaret died within days of Elizabeth’s own death. That could have been the final straw. It’s unclear who died first, but it’s very clear that they died within days of each other based on their estate filing.

What Elizabeth didn’t know was that two of her daughters died not long after she did. Jane/Jenny Jones was apparently living when her husband died in late 1837, but gone before May of 1839.

Rebecca McKee Jamison died sometime between her mother’s estate sale in March of 1838 and her brother, Alexander’s death in May of 1839.

Alexander McKee wrote his will on May 20, 1839, and probably died shortly thereafter. It was probated on July 22, 1839.

Wow, I just need to stop and take a deep breath. I can’t even imagine so much illness and grief, so close together.

Grandchildren

Elizabeth had a plethora of grandchildren, despite the fact that she buried children and that two of her adult children never married. The people bolded died before Elizabeth, except for Margaret, who died at almost exactly the same time. The last column indicated grandchildren that we know perished in Elizabeth’s lifetime.

Child Birth-Death Spouse Total Children Died Before Elizabeth
Sally c1789-1840/1847 Robert Larimer 14 3
James 1791-1855 Sally Roe 17 4
William c1792-1810/1811 never 0
Edward c1795-1831 Mary Hand 5 3
Andrew c1797-after 1847 Nancy Roe died c 1820, Rachel Fisher 6? ?
Mary 1799-1855 John Larimer 11 1
Ann c1800- died VA 1840/1850 Charles Speak 11 5
Charity 1801/1805-before 1837 William Griever 5 3
Jane/Jenny c1802/1803-1838/1839 Richard Jones estate Nov 1837 8 3
Elizabeth/Eliza Before Mar 1805-died Indiana aft 1870 Eleazer Rouse 10+? 3
Rebecca c1808-1838/1839 William Jamison estate Oct 1837 2 1
Margaret 1805/1809-1838 never 0
Male 1810-bef 1820 never 0
Alexander 1811/1812-1839 never 0

Elizabeth welcomed at least 84 grandchildren into the world, although the final arrivals were likely celebrated from the other side.

A few, those that were born in distant locations, she never got to meet and didn’t get to enjoy watching them grow and flourish.

Sadly, she buried 26 of those children, or about one each year, many as babies, except for the children of Ann who moved to Virginia when she married, and Eliza who moved to Indiana after burying some children in Virginia.

Thirty percent, or almost one in three children died, which means that they were actually luckier than some families, where half of their children perished. Of course, these are only the children we know about.

Elizabeth lived long enough for her grandchildren to begin to marry as well, a blessing not afforded to many in that time and place.

Elizabeth and Andrew were married for about 26 years. That’s a long marriage. When he slipped away, all of Elizabeth’s children were still at home except for Sally who married in 1810, and James who had been away at war. At least Andrew was able to welcome his first grandchild, or maybe even two, before he passed over.

Amazingly, Elizabeth did not remarry. She raised all of those 11 or 12 children remaining at home by herself. The youngest, Alexander, may not even have remembered his father. He seems to have been born in 1811 or 1812, so at best, vague, fuzzy memories.

Elizabeth functioned from that point on in the stead of a male farmer. She did what needed to be done – sewed crops and tended to livestock in addition to handling the traditional women’s chores. The reason most people remarried was because raising a family on the frontier was literally a full-time job for two able-bodied people. I wonder how she did it. Her older children must have helped a lot.

Elizabeth was apparently ill, or injured, twice, and recovered. Something happened in 1818 and 1822. She lived for another 24 years after Andrew’s death – nearly a quarter century. She was widowed almost as long as she was married.

For the duration of Elizabeth’s life, she never lived alone. Her last child “at home,” Alexander, died a little over a year after she did, in the spring of 1839.

Margaret, who died when Elizabeth did, would have been her mother’s companion, probably weaving and spinning and working together, side by side. Regardless of who died first, Elizabeth clearly knew that Margaret was very ill and unlikely to survive. She knew the signs of death well.

This door would have shut for the last time behind Elizabeth’s children living in her household when Alexander left on his final journey.

The McKee home descended to James, who died in 1855, the last of the McKee boys, and then passed to generations of his descendants. Stewards of the McKee homestead and Elizabeth’s incredible legacy of enduring strength.

_____________________________________________________________

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The Dead Speak: Unraveling and Understanding Patterns Found in Death Records

I know this topic might not sound like it’s related to genealogy, but it assuredly is, in more ways than one. In fact, it’s one way the dead can, collectively, speak to us.

This article is the result of a rabbit hole that I managed to reside in for a week or so. More of a rabbit tunnel, actually, an underground maze. I’m sharing this joy with you because there’s good stuff down there – even if I didn’t find my ancestor! This is relevant for your genealogy too.

I’ve separated this data from the actual information about my ancestors because I wanted to share this process with you. While my ancestors aren’t relevant to you (unless you’re a cousin, in which case, howdy), this process certainly is because you can replicate it.

So, why did I go down the rabbit hole?

Rabbit Hole Entrance

Three things made me really curious.

I was searching for the 1838/1839 estate of my female ancestor, Elizabeth McKee, when my cousin, Carol, discovered a court record where her estate administration was ordered. Of course, I know that administration means there was no executor. An administrator was court appointed to handle her affairs, meaning she had no will.

However, the really big surprise was that the entry directly above hers on the same day was another female, Margaret McKee. I had never heard of Margaret McKee, but she was clearly an adult who was housekeeping, because she had an estate (minus land).

That’s really strange. There was no other McKee family in this area, and trust me, I’m painfully familiar with this family. Yet, here she was. Right with Elizabeth, or I would never have noticed. Virginia’s indexed records, where they exist, are painfully incomplete.

Was this an unknown daughter? If so, what are the chances of them perishing at the same time? Not very good, right?

Right?

Secondly, Elizabeth had a son, William, mentioned in her husband, Andrew McKee’s will written in 1805. However, Andrew did not die until 1814, when his will was probated without being updated. There was one William McKee who lived in a different part of the same county, so savvy genealogists noticed that and connected the dots.

However, there were things that really bothered me about that connection. The more I dug, the more contradictory evidence I unearthed, including the fact that the William McKee living in the southern district of the county was of age and on the tax list by 1803, and the 1810 census shows Andrew McKee’s son, William, still at home. Also, Andrew and Elizabeth weren’t old enough to have a son born 1783ish, and Andrew wasn’t in the county until 1787. Oh, and William McKee was a VERY wealthy merchant with a quarter million dollar estate in 1833, who came from New York City (wife’s family) and also had a home in Lynchburg, VA. Andrew McKee, on the other hand, was a farmer who first appeared on the tax list without so much as a horse to his name, but hey, details.

In actuality, after that 1805 mention of William McKee in Andrew’s will, and his cameo appearance in the 1810 census where he was about 18, we never hear about William again. The only reasonable conclusion I can come to is that he died sometime after the 1810 census and probably before 1814 when he was conspicuously absent at his father’s estate sale. His older and younger brothers were both purchasing, but no William. He would have been about 22 by then.

If the William in the southern part of the county was Andrew’s son William, he would have been mentioned someplace, but he wasn’t. Stone cold silence. He would also have been the oldest son, an adult in 1805 when Andrew wrote his will, yet son James was named as the executor.

Nope, something’s not adding up.

But, what were the chances of a young, healthy, strapping teenage boy dying? William had survived that perilous childhood deathtrap. Most people back then died as children, or women in childbirth, or as old people, right?

Right?

But is this accurate? Do we know that, or assume that?

I had to know.

Elizabeth’s oldest son, James McKee, died in 1855, not long after the Washington County, Virginia death records had begun to be kept in 1853, and he was reported to have been buried in the McKee Cemetery. The external reference looked like that information came from his death record, but those death records aren’t transcribed. Crumb!

I went searching at FamilySearch in those death record books when I decided to compile some death data. Early on, there weren’t death certificates as we know them, only an index-type book of deaths with one line entry for each person.

I really, really need to know what people were dying of back in the day, and their ages at death. Are my suppositions correct, or not?

What could I learn about the life and times of my ancestors, and their children, from 1850s death records, more than 15 years after Elizabeth died?

It turns out – a lot!!

Data

I compiled the first six years of death data in a spreadsheet, meaning cause and age, from Washington County, Virginia, from 1853 through 1858, for a total of 806 death records. (I told you I spent a week in this rabbit hole.)

Click on images to enlarge.

As you can see, there’s a goldmine of data here. But look what’s NOT here – place of burial. In case you are wondering, I never did find out where James McKee is buried.

First, some general comments and observations.

The first few years of death records did not include stillbirths. There appeared to be confusion about whether stillbirths, which were generally called “deadborn” were to be included. I also got the idea that babies who died immediately after birth may have been classified as stillborn, based on a situation where the mother died, and the baby’s death occurred the next day but was recorded as stillborn, with an age of “1 day.” Most of the time, the “age” for stillborn babies was left blank.

A majority of the stillborn babies had not been named which probably means names weren’t selected for any babies until after they were born. The exceptional situation is a stillborn child WITH a name. Some babies up to 15 days old that died had not been named. I’ve run across this before in the census records.

I wonder if that happened because the family was waiting to see if the child was a boy or girl, or if they were waiting to see if the baby lived, or if there was some superstition or custom about naming/not naming a child before it was born.

The oldest unnamed child was a child whose mother was enslaved and was 15 months old. I fully suspect that this child had a name, but the “owner,” noted as such, who reported the death, did not know the child’s name, so the child’s name was unknown, not unnamed.

As most genealogists know, middle names did not come into common use until in the 1800s, often mid/late 1800s in Appalachia, EXCEPT for middle names that were family names. If your ancestor born before 1800ish had a middle name, it was likely a woman’s birth surname – mother or maybe a grandmother. I noticed a couple of people in the death records with a middle initial, but very few.

I recognized a huge number of very familiar names of families also found in Claiborne and Hancock Counties in Tennessee, and Lee and Russell Counties in Virginia.

There were a total of 806 deaths or about 134 deaths per year, which was almost an exact number for each year. The 1850 census showed 14,612 residents, so .9%, or less than 1% of the population died each year. That’s quite low, because at that rate it would take more than 100 years for everyone to die if no one else was born. This causes me to suspect that these early death records weren’t complete. Scanning the deaths once again, I realized that there were almost no deaths reported during the winter months – December through February. The weather would have been bad, and people would not have been going to town on snowy, slick, and cold mountain roads riding horseback or in an open wagon. Additionally, you had to ford the river to get to Abingdon from the northern district, near Friendship, where my ancestors lived. Brrr.

Widener Valley, near Friendship – By RebelAt at English Wikipedia, CC BY 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=45097455

By spring, the earth was green again, and apparently, no one thought about reporting past deaths. Fields needed to be plowed, and the spring livestock babies were being born. Plus, the Holston River was still high, cold and swollen from snow melt-off and spring rains.

So perhaps these death numbers should just be uniformly multiplied by about 1.4. This really doesn’t affect our analysis unless the causes of death changed based on season, and I don’t think much changed based on what I’m seeing.

The 1850s was a relatively normal time. No known epidemics in this area, and there were no artificial outside stressors, like a war going on. Wars not only disrupt economies, but men die, and women carry the additional workload. Fewer children are born, and if the fighting takes place in that location, food supply and much else is disrupted, causing even more deaths. Not to mention the disease that’s rampant in areas associated with war.

During the 30 Years’ War in Germany in the 1600s, some entire areas were depopulated, and the “lucky” locations only lost half of their pre-war population numbers. This means that couples had less than the self-replacement number of 2 children per family that lived. If your ancestors had more than two surviving children, the population was growing.

Because the 1850 census listed individuals, it’s possible to reconstruct families using these death records if the deceased had been born by 1850.

These death records also include both enslaved and free people of color.

The cause of death was blank in 70 records.

I did not round ages up or down to the year. Many months/days weren’t given. If the person was under a year old, I recorded the months or days.

If you were alive then, what do you think was your most likely cause of death during these years?

Most Likely Cause of Death

  1. Dysentery – 131 or 16% of the people died of dysentery. Two really unlucky people had dysentery with flux.
  2. Flux – 120 or 15% of the people died of flux, also known as “bloody flux.”
  3. Fever – 107 or 13% of the people died of fever. Of course, fever could be anything from the flu to sepsis from an infected cut. If you had a fever and died, that’s what you died of, even though the fever was a symptom. It could also have been Scarlet Fever or Typhoid Fever, and “fever” was probably a catchall for all of the above.
  4. Consumption – 85 or 10% of the people died of what is now known as Tuberculosis.

There’s really no graceful way to say this, but let’s just say that Flux seemed to be another name for Dysentery, which causes me to wonder why both terms were used. After reading up on the subject (we genealogists do such morbid things,) it appears that Flux always involves blood, and Dysentery may not. If you aren’t queasy, you can read about it, here.

I’ve left those two categories separate, because they may have been caused by different organisms, or the criteria might have been different at that time, but it’s safe to say that about one-third of the people died a miserable death from those two.

Know what the good news is? In the US, people didn’t have to deal with the Plague, aka Black Plague, as European populations did.

Ok, so what else were people dying of?

Cause of Death Breakdown

This chart shows causes of death in alphabetical order, including the youngest and oldest ages of people who died of this ailment. Some were clearly afflictions of the young, and some of older people. For example, cough and croup clearly claimed the young, while consumption was by and large constrained to the older population – probably because incubation time was significant and victims generally didn’t die immediately.

Cause of Death Total Youngest Oldest
A fall 1 65 65
Accident 4 5 60
Affect of breast 1 79 79
Apoplexy 3 57 70
Blank (nothing written) 71 Blank (often newborns) 90
Bleeding of lungs 1 32 32
Brain fever 1 42 42
Bronchitis 1 71 71
Burn 1 Blank Blank
By taking arsenic 1 50 50
Cancer 2 69 79
Cholera morbus 1 1 1
Cold 1 82 82
Congestive chills 1 17 17
Consumption 85 3, but by far much more likely to be an adult disease 75
Cough (I’d bet this is croup) 8 3 months 4
Croup 17 2 months 9
Deadborn/stillborn 22 Blank 1 day
Diarrhea 2 7 78
Dyspepsia 2 25 53
Dropsey 14 5, next youngest is 22, by far an older person’s disease 80
Drowned 2 3 13
Dysentery 131 1 day (doubtful), 3 months 71
Encephalitis 1 68 68
Fall of tree 1 29 29
Fever 107 1 day 83
Fits (epilepsy) 2 1 1
Flux 120 18 days 99
Found dead 1 34 34
Gravel (gall stones) 2 76 90
Hemialgia 1 27 27
Hemorrhage of lungs 2 27 74
Hives 2 3 months 7 months
Inflammation 11 1 month 29
Inflammation of bowels 2 Blank but said “poor house” 34
Inflammation of brain 11 1 66
Inflammation of lungs 7 1 72
Injuries received from machine 1 66 66
Killed 3 1 day 45
Killed by horse 1 17 17
Liver complaint 3 18 months 63
Locked in? 1 13 13
Neuralgia 1 12 12
Old age 21 7 (this has to be wrong), second is 65 90
Palalasis, maybe paralysis 1 19 19
Paloog? of heart 1 56 56
Palsy 5 18 days 96
Patacha? 1 37 37
Pleurisy 1 21 21
Pneumonia 8 2 46
Poisoned 1 2 2
Rheumatism 1 67 67
Rufotine? 1 73 73
Scarlet Fever 27 11 months 17
Scrofula 7 3 33
Shot herself 1 21 21
Shot himself 1 51 51
Sore throat 1 3 months 3 months
Spanns? 1 14 days 14 days
Spinal affliction 1 2 2
Stabbed 1 62 62
Tetanus 1 79 79
Thrown from horse 1 18 18
Typhoid Fever 20 10 months 80
Unknown 38 1 day 95
Wheel? 1 28 28
White swelling 1 75 75
Whooping cough 4 1 2

Cause of Death in Highest Category Order

Here we have the same information sorted by the highest category total. Dysentery led the pack, affecting the very young and the very old as well, as did Flux. In fact, the 99-year-old woman was the oldest death recorded during that 6 years. It’s pretty amazing that she managed to avoid all other deaths her entire life, before antibiotics and modern medicine, and even in the end, it wasn’t her heart that gave out.

Cause of Death Total Youngest Oldest
Dysentery 131 1 day (doubtful), 3 months 71
Flux 120 18 days 99
Fever 107 1 day 83
Consumption 85 3, but by far much more likely to be an adult disease 75
Blank (nothing written) 71 Blank (often newborns) 90
Unknown 38 1 day 95
Scarlet Fever 27 11 months 17
Deadborn/stillborn 22 Blank 1 day
Old age 21 7 (this has to be wrong), second oldest is 65 90
Typhoid Fever 20 10 months 80
Croup 17 2 months 9
Dropsey 14 5, next youngest is 22, by far an older person’s disease 80
Inflammation 11 1 month 29
Inflammation of brain 11 1 66
Cough (I’d bet this is croup) 8 3 months 4
Pneumonia 8 2 46
Inflammation of lungs 7 1 72
Scrofula 7 3 33
Palsy 5 18 days 96
Accident 4 5 60
Whooping cough 4 1 2
Apoplexy 3 57 70
Killed 3 1 day 45
Liver complaint 3 18 months 63
Cancer 2 69 79
Diarrhea 2 7 78
Dyspepsia 2 25 53
Drowned 2 3 13
Fits (epilepsy) 2 1 1
Gravel (gall stones) 2 76 90
Hemorrhage of lungs 2 27 74
Hives 2 3 months 7 months
Inflammation of bowels 2 Blank but said “poor house” 34
A fall 1 65 65
Affect of breast 1 79 79
Bleeding of lungs 1 32 32
Brain fever 1 42 42
Bronchitis 1 71 71
Burn 1 Blank Blank
By taking arsenic 1 50 50
Cholera morbus 1 1 1
Cold 1 82 82
Congestive chills 1 17 17
Encephalitis 1 68 68
Fall of tree 1 29 29
Found dead 1 34 34
Hemialgia 1 27 27
Injuries received from machine 1 66 66
Killed by horse 1 17 17
Locked in? 1 13 13
Neuralgia 1 12 12
Palalasis, maybe paralysis 1 19 19
Paloog? of heart 1 56 56
Patacha? 1 37 37
Pleurisy 1 21 21
Poisoned 1 2 2
Rheumatism 1 67 67
Rufotine? 1 73 73
Shot herself 1 21 21
Shot himself 1 51 51
Sore throat 1 3 months 3 months
Spanns? 1 14 days 14 days
Spinal affliction 1 2 2
Stabbed 1 62 62
Tetanus 1 79 79
Thrown from horse 1 18 18
Wheel? 1 28 28
White swelling 1 75 75

What Am I Most Likely to Die Of?

At any age, what is your most likely cause of death before the age of modern medicine in Washington County, VA? It’s worth noting that these causes of death are probably very similar across most of the US during this time, except perhaps for eastern seaboard cities with heavy concentrations of people.

Using the chart below, find the age by year you’re searching for in the age column. I recorded the death ages by month and week for babies less than a year old, but in this chart, I’ve combined them into the category of “less than one year.”

The cause of death column is just that. I’ve bolded the most common cause of death for that age group. In some cases, more than one is bolded because blank and unknown aren’t causes of death. In other instances, there are multiple causes of death that are tied.

The third column is the number of deaths for that age by cause of death

The fourth column is the total number of deaths, in red, for that age.

So, age 0 is Deadborn, or Stillborn, which I’ve combined into one category. There were 31 deaths from that cause (remember, the early years did not record stillbirths), and the total deaths for age 0 is 31.

In the age category of <1 year, 22 deaths were blank and had no cause of death, and 17 were unknown, which would mean that it wasn’t recorded or “the baby just died.” Things like SIDS and babies with congenital heart defects would all be in the sudden death category which would have been unknown then. The highest actual cause of death is Dysentery with 12. The total for the age of less than one year is 88.

So let me give you an idea of how to use this chart. Let’s say your ancestor died at about 70 years of age. You have no further information.

What kinds of diseases were causes of death for a 70-year-old?

Scan down to age 70. You will see that several things might have caused that person’s death, in about equal probability. However, if I tell you that her daughter who was about 28 and lived with her, died at about the same time, that might shift your analysis to favoring communicable diseases found in both the categories for age 38 and for age 70. You might have guessed I’m referring to Margaret and Elizabeth McKee.

Fever and dysentery were killing 28-year-old people. Fever is also listed for age 70, as is Consumption. If one had Consumption, and contracted either a fever or dysentery, that combination would certainly be lethal. Here’s what I do know from Elizabeth’s estate settlement – a “girl” was paid to care for her “in her final illness” which did not seem to be quick, based on the amount that the caregiver was paid. So we know Elizabeth did not die quickly and was ill for some time. I’m leaning towards consumption here, maybe complicated by something else that Margaret also had. Or, maybe they both had consumption.

What about William, assuming he died between about 18 and 22? Dysentery, Flux or Consumption. It’s possible that he died of the same thing as Andrew in the spring of 1814. Andrew would have been about 50. Few people died at 50, but since he failed to update his will, he may have died quickly or been too ill to update the will. Dysentery is a prime candidate for both.

Age Cause of death # Deaths Total by Age Year
0 Deadborn 31 31
<1 Blank 22 88
<1 Unknown 17
<1 Dysentery 12
<1 Flux 9
<1 Fever 8
<1 Croup 6
<1 Inflammation 3
<1 Cough 2
<1 Hives 2
<1 Killed 1
<1 Liver complaint 1
<1 Palsy 1
<1 Scarlet Fever 1
<1 Sore throat 1
<1 Spanns? 1
<1 Typhoid Fever 1
1 Flux 13 57
1 Dysentery 12
1 Fever 7
1 Scarlet Fever 6
1 Unknown 6
1 Cough 4
1 Whooping Cough 3
1 Fits 2
1 Blank 1
1 Cholera Morbus 1
1 Inflammation of brain 1
1 inflammation of lungs 1
2 Flux 11 46
2 Fever 8
2 Dysentery 7
2 Scarlet Fever 5
2 Blank 3
2 Croup 3
2 Inflammation 2
2 Unknown 2
2 Inflammation of head 1
2 Pneumonia 1
2 Poisoned 1
2 Spinal Affliction 1
2 Whooping Cough 1
3 Dysentery 13 40
3 Fever 7
3 Flux 7
3 Cough 3
3 Typhoid Fever 3
3 Scarlet Fever 2
3 Consumption 1
3 Drowned 1
3 Inflammation of lungs 1
3 Scrofula 1
3 Unknown 1
4 Flux 9 32
4 Dysentery 6
4 Fever 6
4 Scarlet fever 4
4 Inflammation 2
4 Inflammation of brain 2
4 Blank 1
4 Cough 1
4 Unknown 1
5 Dysentery 7 24
5 Flux 5
5 Fever 3
5 Accident 1
5 Dropsy 1
5 Dysentery with flux 1
5 Inflammation 1
5 Liver complaint 1
5 Pneumonia 1
5 Scarlet fever 1
5 Scrofula 1
5 Unknown 1
6 Flux 11 29
6 Dysentery 6
6 Fever 3
6 Blank 2
6 Scarlet Fever 2
6 Consumption 1
6 Croup 1
6 Pneumonia 1
6 Scrofula 1
6 Unknown 1
7 Dysentery 12 24
7 Flux 8
7 Fever 2
7 Diarrhea 1
7 Old age 1
8 Dysentery 4 18
8 Flux 4
8 Scarlet Fever 4
8 Fever 3
8 Consumption 1
8 Inflammation of brain 1
8 Unknown 1
9 Dysentery 6 17
9 Fever 2
9 Flux 2
9 Consumption 1
9 Croup 1
9 inflammation 1
9 inflammation of lungs 1
9 Killed 1
9 Typhoid Fever 1
9 Unknown 1
10 Dysentery 5 7
10 Fever 2
11 Dysentery 2 9
11 Flux 2
11 Blank 1
11 Consumption 1
11 Fever 1
11 Inflammation of brain 1
11 Typhoid Fever 1
12 Dysentery 3 12
12 Flux 3
12 Accident 1
12 Blank 1
12 Consumption 1
12 Fever 1
12 Neuralgia 1
12 Scarlet Fever 1
13 Dysentery 2 8
13 Flux 2
13 Drowned 1
13 Fever 1
13 Locked In? 1
13 Unknown 1
14 Dysentery 2 4
14 Flux 1
14 Typhoid Fever 1
15 Blank 1 5
15 Consumption 1
15 Dysentery 1
15 Inflammation of lungs 1
15 Scrofula 1
16 Consumption 2 7
16 Dysentery 2
16 Fever 1
16 Flux 1
16 Inflammation of brain 1
17 Consumption 2 10
17 Blank 1
17 Congestive chills 1
17 Dysentery 1
17 Fever 1
17 Killed by horse 1
17 Scarlet fever 1
17 Scrofula 1
17 Typhoid Fever 1
18 Consumption 2 7
18 Flux 2
18 Fever 1
18 Thrown from horse 1
18 Typhoid Fever 1
19 Dysentery 4 7
19 Consumption 1
19 Flux 1
19 Paralysis 1
20 Fever 3 9
20 Consumption 2
20 Flux 2
20 Dysentery 1
20 Typhoid Fever 1
21 Consumption 4 12
21 Dysentery 4
21 Fever 2
21 Pleurisy 1
21 Shot herself 1
22 Flux 3 9
22 Consumption 2
22 Blank 1
22 Dropsy 1
22 Fever 1
22 Inflammation of brain 1
23 Consumption 3 11
23 Blank 2
23 Dysentery 2
23 Fever 2
23 Flux 1
23 Scrofula 1
24 Blank 1 4
24 Fever 1
24 Flux 1
24 Typhoid Fever 1
25 Consumption 2 8
25 Fever 2
25 Blank 1
25 Dyspepsia? 1
25 Flux 1
25 Unknown 1
26 Fever 2 5
26 Blank 1
26 Consumption 1
26 Dysentery 1
27 Flux 1 4
27 Hemialgia 1
27 Hemorrhage lungs 1
27 Inflammation 1
28 Fever 3 7
28 Dysentery 1
28 Inflammation of brain 1
28 Unknown 1
28 Wheel? 1
29 Typhoid Fever 2 6
29 Blank 1
29 Consumption 1
29 Fall of tree 1
29 inflammation 1
30 Fever 3 6
30 Blank 1
30 Consumption 1
30 Flux 1
31 Consumption 4 4
32 Bleeding of lungs 1 5
32 Consumption 1
32 Fever 1
32 Flux 1
32 Unknown 1
33 Consumption 3 6
33 Fever 1
33 Flux 1
33 Scrofula 1
34 Dysentery 1 6
34 Fever 1
34 Found dead 1
34 Inflammation of bowels 1
34 Pneumonia 1
34 Typhoid Fever 1
35 Consumption 3 6
35 Dropsy 1
35 Fever 1
35 Pneumonia 1
36 Blank 2 5
36 Consumption 1
36 Dysentery 1
36 Fever 1
37 Patacha 1 2
37 Pneumonia 1
38 Consumption 2 4
38 Fever 1
38 Flux 1
39 Typhoid Fever 1 1
40 Fever 2 7
40 Consumption 1
40 Dysentery 1
40 Flux 1
40 Pneumonia 1
40 Typhoid Fever 1
41 Blank 2 2
42 Brain fever 1 1
43 Consumption 1 4
43 Dysentery 1
43 Inflammation of brain 1
43 Unknown 1
44 Consumption 2 2
45 Dropsy 1 4
45 Dysentery 1
45 Fever 1
45 Killed 1
46 Consumption 1 3
46 Dysentery 1
46 Pneumonia 1
47 Flux 2 4
47 Consumption 1
47 Dysentery 1
48 Consumption 1
48 Fever 1 2
49 Blank 1 3
49 Consumption 1
49 Flux 1
50 Dysentery 2 5
50 By taking arsenic 1
50 Consumption 1
50 Inflammation of lungs 1
51 Consumption 2 3
51 Shot himself 1
52 Consumption 3 3
53 Dyspepsia? 1 2
53 Fever 1
54 Blank 1 4 
54 Consumption 1  
54 Dysentery 1  
54 Fever 1
55 Fever 2 4
55 Consumption 1
55 Dropsy 1
56 Consumption 5 7
56 Flux 1
56 Paloog? of heart 1
57 Apoplexy 1 2
57 Consumption 1
58 Dysentery 1 1
59 Accident 1  3
59 Fever 1  
59 Typhoid Fever 1
60 Fever 2 6
60 Accident 1
60 Apoplexy suppose 1
60 Blank 1
60 Palsy 1
61 Consumption 3 3
62 Dysentery 1 3
62 Inflammation of brain 1
62 Stabbed 1
63 Blank 1  3
63 Flux 1  
63 Liver complaint 1
64 Blank 1  4
64 Consumption 1  
64 Dropsy 1  
64 Typhoid Fever 1
65 Blank 3 12
65 Consumption 3
65 Dysentery 2
65 ? a fall 1
65 Dropsy 1
65 Old age 1
65 Unknown 1
66 Consumption 1 5
66 Dropsy 1
66 Dysentery 1
66 Inflammation of brain 1
66 Injuries received from machine 1
67 Rheumatism 1 1
68 Dysentery 1 3
68 Encephalitis 1
68 Flux 1
69 Cancer 1  2
69 Consumption 1
70 Dropsy 2 7
70 Apoplexy 1
70 Blank 1
70 Consumption 1
70 Fever 1
70 Old age 1
71 Bronchitis 1  4
71 Consumption 1  
71 Dysentery 1  
71 Old age 1
72 Old age 2 6
72 Blank 1
72 Dropsy 1
72 Inflammation of lungs 1
72 Typhoid Fever 1
73 Consumption 1  4
73 Fever 1  
73 Old age 1  
73 rufotine? 1
74 Blank 2 8
74 Consumption 2
74 Flux 1
74 Hemorrhage lungs 1
74 Old age 1
74 Unknown 1
75 Consumption 1 6
75 Dropsy 1
75 Fever 1
75 Flux 1
75 Old age 1
75 White swelling 1
76 Blank 1 5
76 Diarrhea 1
76 Dropsy 1
76 Gravel 1
76 Old age 1
77 Flux 1 1
78 Old age 1 1
79 Flux 2 5
79 Affection of breast 1
79 Cancer 1
79 Tetanus 1
80 Dropsy 1  4
80 Fever 1  
80 Old age 1  
80 Typhoid Fever 1
81 Fever 2 4
81 Old age 1
81 Palsy 1
82 Cold 1 3
82 Fever 1
82 Old age 1
83 Fever 1 1
84 Flux 1  2
84 Old age 1
85 Palsy 1 1
87 Old age 2  4
87 Blank 1
87 Flux 1
88 Old age 3 3
90 Blank 1  3
90 Gravel 1  
90 Old age 1
95 Unknown 1 1
96 Palsy 1 1
99 Flux 1 1
blank Consumption 4 12
blank Fever 3
blank Blank 1
blank Burn 1
blank Inflammation of lungs 1
blank Fever 1
blank Inflammation of bowels 1

Children’s Deaths Under a Year

For those interested, children’s deaths under a year are detailed in the chart below by age.

Age Cause of Death # Deaths
0 Deadborn 30
0 Unknown 1
1 day Blank 4
1 day Unknown 3
1 day Deadborn 2
1 day Dysentery 1
1 day Fever 1
1 day Killed 1
2 days Blank 3
5 days Blank 2
5 days Fever 1
8 days Unknown 1
10 days Unknown 2
10 days Blank 1
12 days Unknown 1
13 days Blank 3
14 days Unknown 2
14 days Spanns? 1
18 days Flux 2
18 days Palsy 1
18 days Liver complaint 1
21 days Fever 1
1 mos Inflammation 1
1 mos Blank 3
1 mos Flux 1
1 mos Unknown 1
2 mos Croup 1
2 mos Fever 1
2 mos Unknown 1
3 mos Unknown 2
3 mos Blank 1
3 mos Cough 1
3 mos Croup 1
3 mos Dysentery with flux 1
3 mos Fever 1
3 mos Flux 1
3 mos Hives 1
3 mos Sore throat 1
4 mos Blank 2
4 mos Unknown 2
4 mos Dysentery 1
4 mos Inflammation 1
5 mos Blank 1
5 mos Croup 1
5 mos Dysentery 1
5 mos Fever 1
5 mos Flux 1
6 mos Dysentery 4
6 mos Cough 1
6 mos Croup 1
6 mos Fever 1
6 mos Flux 1
7 mos Croup 2
7 mos Blank 1
7 mos Dysentery 1
7 mos Hives 1
7 mos Inflammation 1
8 mos Flux 2
8 mos Dysentery 1
10 mos Dysentery 2
10 mos Typhoid Fever 1
11 mos Blank 1
11 mos Fever 1
11 mos Flux 1
11 mos Scarlet Fever 1

What Age Category is the Most Likely to Die?

As a person living back in the 1800s, at what age would you have been the most likely to die?

Eliminating records that don’t include ages, we can look at the age category in which people are most likely to take that last ride to the churchyard on the back of the wagon.

I fully expect that if the stillbirths had been recorded during the first part of this comparison, stillbirths would outnumber the rest. So, if you managed to survive birth, then your next big challenge would be to survive the next nine years of your life, as illustrated by the number of deaths for those years, in chronological order.

Age # of Deaths
<1 88
1 57
2 46
3 40
4 32
Deadborn 31
6 29
5 24
7 24
8 18
9 17
12 12
21 12
23 11
17 10
11 9
20 9
22 9
13 8
25 8
74 8
10 7
16 7
18 7
19 7
28 7
40 7
56 7
70 7
29 6
30 6
33 6
34 6
35 6
60 6
72 6
75 6
15 5
23 5
32 5
36 5
50 5
76 5
79 5
14 4
24 4
27 4
31 4
38 4
43 4
45 4
47 4
54 4
55 4
71 4
73 4
80 4
81 4
87 4
46 3
49 3
51 3
52 3
59 3
82 3
88 3
90 3
37 2
41 2
44 2
48 2
53 2
57 2
84 2
39 1
42 1
58 1
77 1
78 1
83 1
85 1
95 1
96 1
99 1

This data somewhat dispells the idea that most women died in childbirth, although at the ages that a first child would be born, early 20s, deaths are fairly high. Death during or as a direct result of childbirth clearly did happen, but often the mother was recorded as having died of fever. It’s hard to know which came first, the fever or the childbirth. We see evidence of these deaths in the census, and when we find men remarrying, but I don’t think childbirth-related death happened as often as I previously thought.

Unfortunately, “childbirth” was not listed as a cause of death. In later years, after this analysis, I did see a few listed as “childbed fever” which was a form of sepsis. So yes, the mother clearly had a fever, but she would not have had the fever had she not given birth.

Based on these records, we can’t tell how many women actually died in or as a result of childbirth.

How Many People Were Old?

Of course, not all “old” people died during those six years, but several did.

Men could often stop paying tithes and some taxes above the age of 50, although that varied significantly by location and time period.

Certainly, people of age 60 and over were considered “old.” Look how much they had managed to survive! Not to mention their bodies probably ached from decades of backbreaking work plus injuries that may or may not have healed correctly. The youngest person with an “old age” cause of death was 65. We don’t consider that old today.

Still, 65 can be retirement age, so I guess “old” is a matter of perception and circumstances.

It’s interesting to look at each red age category, by year, above 60.

Of course, there are fewer and fewer deaths as age increases significantly because there are fewer and fewer people left to die in that category. Remember that these numbers encompass everyone who died during a 6-year period. Only 9 people in their 90s died in 6 years, or one every eight months, on average.

It hurts my heart that the poor 99-year-old lady didn’t just get to pass away in her sleep or rocking chair, but instead died a miserable death of Flux.

Twenty-two people died in their 80s, or about one person every four months or so.

Forty-eight people died in their 70s, or 8 per year, or about one every six weeks.

There were 42 people needing funeral services in their 60s, so slightly fewer than in their 70s.

By the time people in their 90s were passing away, there probably weren’t many people that old left in the county, but there were clearly lots of people in their 60s, 70s, and even 80s that were living.

What About Families?

I will never forget my first foray into a cemetery by myself when I was about 10 years old. We were visiting my brother who lived in a tiny crossroads farm town in Indiana that extended maybe two blocks in each direction. I was bored with adult talk and was allowed to take a walk. I found a cemetery not too far away, along the Eel River by an old covered bridge, and strolled through the cemetery, just looking around.

I recall noticing that one stone was different – tall, older, and slender – with small engraving on all four sides instead of on the front like the others. I read the inscriptions from the late 1800s and discovered that children with the same last name, clearly siblings, were buried on all four sides and had died within a few days of each other. I was stunned and immediately, even at 10, thought about how horrible it must have been for those parents. I wondered what on earth had happened to those children. I hadn’t even heard of Dystnetery and Flux, words all-too-familiar to our ancestors.

Over time, as genealogists working with census data, we’ve come to accept that children died – but 4, together, a few days apart? My 10-year-old brain thought that maybe their house burned, but that would have meant that they all died at once, so I dismissed that idea.

I’m still struggling with the idea that Elizabeth, who would have been about 70, and Margaret, who would have been about 28, actually died at or very near the same time. What are the chances of that happening? How often did this actually occur in families? That just seems too unusual to be happenstance. Elizabeth and Margaret weren’t vulnerable young children.

Elizabeth was older, 70ish, so her death isn’t surprising, but a 28-year-old woman who was not married, so no childbirth involved, who probably lived in the same house with her mother just happened to have her estate probated the same day as her mother?

Ok, so how common was this? I don’t want to connect non-existent dots, like the other William McKee, but on the other hand, I don’t want to ignore or dismiss the obvious either.

I went back and took another look at these death records, scanning for common surnames on the same page. To be clear, this means I likely missed several.

But, I also found several, and what I found chilled me to the bone.

These children are all siblings, from the same family, unless otherwise noted. Each group died in the same year.

  • Two children, aged 6 and 3, died on May 19 and 24 of fever.
  • Two children died on the same day in August of fever.
  • A couple, both aged 34, died on October 9 and November 1.
  • Three children aged 5, 7, and 6 months died on October 25, November 10, and 13 of dysentery.
  • Two children aged 11 months, and 3 years died on September 8 and October 8 of fever.
  • Two children aged 5 and 2 died of Scarlet Fever, both on August 5th.
  • Three children aged 8, 6, and 3 died of fever on November 2, 6, and 12.
  • A mother and 3 children died of fever and scarlet fever on June 1 (2 children), June 2, and 4 (the mother). OMG that poor woman. They were all reported by the children’s father. That poor man. I’m amazed he could function to do anything at all.
  • Two children died of cough, aged 6 months and 1 year, 11 months. This poor mother lost both of her babies.
  • Two children died of cough on May 15 and 29, ages 1 and 4.
  • Mother and child, age 43 and age 8. She died of inflammation of the brain and the child died of Scarlet Fever. The mother died on April 12 and the child on June 5th. One of this family’s enslaved children, age 6, also died of Scarlet Fever on June 2.
  • Three family members, aged 65, 10 months, and 7 years died of Dysentery on September 24, 25, and October 18. A man lost his two children, then his mother, and reported all 3. I’d wager his mother was caring for his children while they were ill.
  • A mother and daughter, aged 56 and 17, died on June 18 and 21 of Consumption. The son/brother was the informant of both deaths, which causes me to wonder if the father was already deceased.
  • A daughter died in April and her mother in October of Consumption. The husband/father was the informant. I can’t help but wonder if he later died of the same thing too.
  • Two children, aged 7 and 9, died of Dysentery in September and October in Glade Springs, not far from my ancestors.
  • Two more children died of dysentery at the same time in Rush Creek, ages 10 and 12. Dysentery is caused by contact with fecal matter, but can also be spread by poor hygiene, like not washing hands. Of course, people didn’t know that.
  • The Widener family experienced heart-wrenching losses beginning in July when 3 Widener children ages 7, 9, and 12 died of Dysentery. Six more Widener children from a different set of parents, ages 1, 2, 6, 7, 8, and 9 died on September 9, 14, 25, and October 1 in Widener Valley. Then a mother and two more children in the same extended family aged 5, 8, and 45 died on September 27, October 4, and 14 (the mother). There were a couple other Widener family members who died too, all of Dysentery, and were clearly related, but I could not place them with the others. That’s 14 people in total who perished within 4 months or so.
  • Four children, 12, 17, 19, and 21, died of Dysentery. They lived on the Middle Fork of the Holston, very close to my ancestors. One died on August 17 and three on the 18th. Good Heavens – three on the same say. Those poor parents. I bet the entire family was gravely ill.
  • Three children aged 7 months, 3, and 7 died of Dysentery on August 21, 26, and September 15.
  • 4 family members, ages 65, 66, 25, and 40, died. The son reported his parents, then his wife, then he died of Dysentery too.
  • Three children, aged 17, 15, and 2 months died of Scrofula on August 28, September (date not given), and November 25th. The mother reported all 3.
  • John Larimer’s 2 children, Hetty and Sarah, aged 6 and 3, died August 6 and 12, 1854, both of Dysentery. The parents were John and Sarah Larimer, and he reported the deaths of both. These are probably my ancestor, Elizabeth Mckee’s great-grandchildren.
  • Two children aged 3 and 6 died of Dysentery on August 21 and September 13.
  • Three children aged 7, 9, and 11 died of Dysentery on September 20, October 13, and 27.
  • Two children aged 7 and 9 died on August 7 and 12 of Dysentery.
  • Two children aged 4 and 8 died of the Flux in August and October
  • Two children aged 24 and 14 died of the Flux on August 24 and 27 and were reported by their mother.
  • Three children aged 2, 4, and 18 died of Flux in September, reported by their mother. Was the father ill himself, or perhaps already deceased?
  • A man lost his mother, brother, child, and wife, ages 81, 60, and 35. The older people had Flux (August – October), the wife had fever, and the child was stillborn in July.
  • Children ages 7 and 13 died of fever in June and December.
  • A mother died of hemorrhage of the lungs on July 12, and her 12-day-old child died 3 days later with no cause of death listed.
  • A baby was stillborn in March, and their older child, age 3, died of Flux in October.
  • A person lost their mother, age 56, then their 2-year-old child to Flux on May 21 and 24. I bet they were buried side by side.
  • A couple lost 2 children, age 4 and the other age not stated, both on October 19, of Consumption. This makes me wonder if the cause of death was actually something else, but that mattered little to the grieving parents.
  • Three children, ages 1, 4, and 8 were lost to Flux in June, July and September.
  • Two children aged 1 and 5 died of Flux on June 3 and 20.
  • Many Fleenor extended family members died of Flux, beginning with one man and three children, aged 1, 3, and 6. Then his mother or grandmother died, age 79. An enslaved person owned by the family, age 33 and her child, age 3 died too. Another Fleenor man along with 6 children aged 2, 3, 7, 9, and 11, plus one that was stillborn. Also, the family matriarch, age 89 plus an additional enslaved person, age 4, beginning with the enslaved child in March. Most of the rest were in June through August of 1858. It sounds like the entire plantation had Flux, resulting in 16 deaths, and that’s assuming I found them all. Married daughters would not have had the Fleenor surname.
  • Two children died, one 18-month-old died in August of liver complaint, whatever that was, and one was stillborn in October.
  • Two of Robert Larimore’s children, ages 3 and 8, died of Scarlet Fever in March and December of 1858. They were possibly my ancestor Elizabeth McKee’s great-grandchildren.
  • A 35-year-old woman died, and her child was stillborn. She died of Consumption on October 24, and the baby died on 25th, although I don’t know how the baby was stillborn the day after she died. I can’t imagine being pregnant while fighting for one’s breath with Tuberculosis.
  • Two children aged 12 and 8 died of Scarlet Fever on March 8 and 15.

I don’t know anyone personally, before Covid, other than a car accident, that lost multiple family members at the same time.

Wow, so much grief. I think I just need to sit a minute.

Bonus – Relationships, Occupations, and Locations

There’s more too. The informant is listed and their relationship to the deceased. This can help sort out other relationships as well.

Birthplaces aren’t just useful for the people listed but can show significant migration paths for the residents of this county and community.

Unfortunately, some years simply had the place of birth listed as Washington County with ditto marks for everyone, which clearly is not accurate, so those years simply have to be ignored, unfortunately. However, if you don’t look at what’s “normal” for other years, you won’t realize that the year you are viewing is not accurate.

The most informative places of birth are the locations for the oldest people because they reach back the furthest in time. If you can reconstruct their family, and find your ancestor somehow tied to theirs, that may provide a HUGE clue for you. One of the most difficult tasks for genealogists is figuring out where someone came from.

Tax, estate, land, and court records are wonderful for constructing and fleshing out lists of people found with your ancestors. People often moved and migrated in groups – not only for safety during the journey but to have resources and help once arriving. Plus, people talked about “amazing opportunities” in the places they gathered – at church, on farms, and in town.

Birth Places found:

  • Albemarle VA
  • Botetourt, VA (2)
  • Ashe Co., NC
  • Bartley Co, PA
  • Bedford Co., NC
  • Buckingham Co., VA
  • Craven Co., NC (2)
  • Greene Co, Illinois
  • Hagerstown, PA
  • Lee Co., VA – a student of Emory and Henry College (who knew there was a college in this county in the 1850s)
  • Massachusetts
  • Nashville, TN
  • NC (3)
  • Orange Co., NC
  • Pulaski Co., KY (2) student of Emory and Henry College
  • Scotland
  • Sevier Co., NC
  • Smyth Co., VA (7)
  • Stokes Co., NC (2)
  • Surry Co., NC
  • Wilkes Co., NC
  • Wythe Co., VA

The death location can be very specific, blank, just the county name, or even something unexpected like “poor house.” I was surprised to see some death locations in other counties. I wonder if the death was simply recorded, or if the body was brought back for burial.

Enslaved People

For researchers searching for enslaved people, death records began in the early 1850s, more than a decade before the Civil War, and provide context for where your ancestor was found and with whom. Their death location is often the name or location of a plantation, and even if not, the owner’s name can be tracked through land and tax records. Even if your ancestors died in earlier generations, or after the Civil War, finding that thread to pull is invaluable. Tracking the enslaving family back to where they came from likely informs you of where your ancestors probably came from too, given that wealthy families often brought enslaved people along with them to the frontier.

I suspect that not all deaths of enslaved people were recorded.

Correlating death records with tax records reaching back in time can be very enlightening. Free people of color are recorded on tax records as well. Lucky for us, The tax collector wasn’t going to miss any revenue!

Medical Treatment

What was medical treatment like prior to the 1900s?

Most people treated themselves, or a local midwife also dispensed accumulated knowledge of herbs and remedies that addressed the symptoms of the patient.

There were doctors in Washington County, but clearly, without knowledge of modern medicine, and without many tools, there often wasn’t a lot they could do. Bleeding as a treatment was falling out of favor but continued at some level until the late 1800s, and often made a bad situation worse. In situations where the body was severely weakened and dehydrated, like with Dysentery and Flux, the loss of blood would just be one more thing for a beleaguered body to fight.

Doctors couldn’t even help themselves. A doctor, age 33, died of fever and so did the doctor that was 81. A third physician, age 29, died of inflammation. I just want to scream, across the years, stop bleeding people and ANTIBIOTICS!!!! Of course, antibiotics didn’t come into play until the 1900s, so doctors simply did the best they could.

What Did I Learn?

I never did find what I was seeking, the location where James McKee or his sister who both died in 1855, were buried.

However, I discovered a HUGE trove of information about what was happening in Washington County, VA, which can probably be extrapolated for that region and perhaps further afield. Regardless, it gives you a pattern to follow for your ancestors where they lived.

I have a much better appreciation for how frightened mothers and couples must have been for their young children. Fear must have clutched everyone’s heart if someone had intestinal issues, or coughed. Reminds me of how we’ve all felt about Covid over the past couple of years. Close contact, such as church and funerals, probably spread their diseases the same way Covid is spread today. Covid also gave us a much better, and unfortunate, appreciation for mass and unexpected deaths. So many families have lost multiple members.

The only testament we often have today about deaths during that timeframe is a “space” of 3 or 4 years between children who actually made it to a census. The larger the space, the more children that died. Most of them never had tombstones that survived, just sad wooden crosses nailed together. The parents, and grandparents, if they were living, knew where they were buried. No one else would care, and a generation later, no one knew they had ever existed unless a person who was then old thought to mention their sister or brother who had died decades before.

I also suspect that while no one ever got used to children perishing, that at some level, couples expected some children to die. It was part of the natural life cycle – as painful as that was. Even royalty who had the best care available at the time referred to “an heir and a spare.”

Religion played a large part in their lives and these pioneers would have derived comfort from their religious beliefs and the pastor’s words at the funerals.

In many cases, the mother was either pregnant again, or they were busy doing chores that could not wait for grief to abate. Animals had to be fed, milked, and slaughtered – or no one else would eat either. Fields had to be plowed, and cotton, flax, and wool had to be spun. Grain had to be ground. Food had to be cooked every day. Time to grieve was a luxury no one could afford.

When I was young, I remember the older women whose birth probably reach back into the early 1900s making seemingly insensitive comments when a child was stillborn, died, or a miscarriage occurred. “Just try again” was what they said. That’s probably EXACTLY what had been said to them under the same circumstances. Now, I view that more as a defense mechanism and “legacy advice,” probably passed down for generations, than simply being hard-hearted.

Sadly, it seems that almost every family experienced multiple deaths of their children, and many people married at least twice, if not three times. Not because of divorce, but due to death. Now we know their causes of death.

Funerals were probably as common as the Sunday sermon. If 134 people died in a year (plus the ones that weren’t recorded,) that’s at least 2.5 deaths a week. I know there were two Presbyterian Churches during this timeframe, plus probably a Baptist and Methodist church. It would be safe to say that each preacher probably performed at least one funeral each week.

Everyone knew how to build a coffin. In fact, maybe a few were built ahead and stored in someone’s barn – especially child-sized, as sad as that was.

Years later, in Claiborne County, family history reveals that the community experienced what was reported as a smallpox outbreak. Many people died. Two of Ruthy Dodson Estes’s adult daughters in their 40s died two days apart in April of 1888, plus both of one daughter’s children. Ruthy’s husband had gone to Texas, permanently, so her son, Lazarus Estes, built his sisters’ coffins, dug their graves, and buried them, just like he had for his own two daughters four years earlier.

There weren’t enough people available to build coffins or dig graves in the community. No one wanted to handle the dead bodies, not only because of contagion, but because so many people were sick themselves. As awful as that time period was, there is little history remaining of that smallpox outbreak today, and we wouldn’t have known about it at all had the story not been repeated by Lazarus to his son, who told his son, Uncle George, who was born in the 19-teens, who repeated it to me in the 1980s.

I wonder if the Fleenor and Widener families, both of whom experienced a devastating number of deaths in Washington County, carry any oral history of that mass-death event? I suspect that people were discouraged from dwelling on the “past” and were encouraged to focus on the here-and-now. After all, nothing could be done about that, and one really did have to get on with life.

Viewing death records through the lens of local history is quite enlightening too. Where would these people have been buried? Was there a family cemetery on their land or did their religious denomination have a church graveyard?  Can you figure out who attended what denomination of church? If so, what is the relevant church history? Where did the family live? Dysentery was related to contaminated water. Did the family have a spring with their own headwater, or were they sharing a water source? Did they have a well that got contaminated?

Of course, these answers won’t be available in death records, but land and tax records may help to resolve these questions and illuminate the information forthcoming about the county and neighborhood where your ancestors lived – and even whose funerals they attended. Just discovering the name of the local preacher may help, because sometimes people settled with their minister when he was called to an area.

We often think of death records as the end of the line, but they have so much more to offer and can lead the way to the information you need!

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Andrew McKee (c1760-1814), Distiller on the Middle Fork of the Holston River – 52 Ancestors #372

In May of 2006, I journeyed with my wonderful cousin, Daryl, to the Washington Co. Va. Historical Society in historic downtown Abington, VA.

I was delighted to discover that they had computerized a great deal and that they had an amazing records collection. Several databases are online, including a vertical surname file.

I was hot on the trail of Andrew McKee and his wife, Elizabeth, and was fortunate enough to meet a cousin in Washington County who was familiar with both the local terrain and the McKee family.

She said that there were supposedly 3 McKee men who arrived in Pennsylvania. One stayed in Pennsylvania, one came to Washington County, Virginia, and one went elsewhere. The old “three brothers” story. Sometimes those stories are true, sometimes kind of true, and sometimes anything but.

We don’t know where Andrew was born. In addition to the Pennsylvania story, he was reported to have been born to an earlier Andrew McKee, and also to a Hugh McKee, variously in Gloucester, VA, and also in other locations.

Finding a man by the same name doesn’t mean they are father and son, or even related at all. There’s no evidence to connect them, although I don’t think thorough systemic research has been undertaken.

The bottom line is that we don’t know.

The Old Country

Almost all of the earliest recollections of the various McKee lines contain some version of the “brothers” story, and also some variation of what happened in the old country. I’m always skeptical of these stories, because I’ve seen so many of them be proven wrong, but this one might, just might, be somewhat different.

In part, we do know that the family is Presbyterian, which, combined with the surname, location, and time, equates to Scots-Irish. Secondly, regardless of whether or not the specific McKee men identified back in Ireland are accurate, the situation likely is, and reaches back to the legendary Battle of the Boyne, fought near Drogheda, north of Dublin, in 1690.

The armies of James Stuart the II of England and William of Orange faced off, above, with four McKee men, supposedly brothers, fighting for the latter. These four men are not the immigrants, but one is believed to be the father of the immigrant McKee brothers who settled in Pennsylvania.

The best summary I’ve seen is in the McKee Family Matters Newsletter, published by Kevin McKee (1954-2013), here. I encourage all McKee researchers to read what Professor James Y. McKee had to say about the McKee origins in Scotland, England, and Ireland, and the historical information he was able to gather. I’ve compiled the old  McKee Family Matters Links, here, but given the age of these pages, I’d suggest saving the information if it’s relevant to you.

Professor McKee posits, based on naming patterns and other information, that Alexander McKee, who we know exists and settled in Antrim after the famous 1690 battle, was likely the father of the four (or more) brothers who immigrated to Pennsylvania between 1725-1738, and whose descendants scattered across Pennsylvania, into Virginia, North Carolina and Kentucky.

That Irish Alexander was buried under the arms of the Strathnaver and Reay branch of the Clan Mackay.

Of course, there are other potential Scots-Irish progenitors, as well, and it’s probable that multiple families and lines migrated at different times.

Early McKee Immigrants

I found an old typewritten book, titled “The McKees of Virginia and Kentucky” by George Wilson McKee in the Tennessee State Library and Archives. In this book, the author, quoting from a letter written from Samuel McKee to William McKee in 1869, states that “In 1738, 10 or 11 brothers McKee emigrated to America.” He then goes on to say maybe as few as five. Those men, Samuel recounts, were the sons of “one who had borne a part in the defense of Derry and settled near Lancaster, PA. From there, some settled near Wheeling, West Virginia, and some in Pittsburg, PA.”

John and Robert “went almost directly to Virginia, about 1757, and settled on a portion of Borden’s grant on Kerr’s Creek in what is now Rockbridge Co., about 8 miles northwest of Lexington and about the same distance from Timber Ridge, which is north of Lexington on the Staunton Road, and was within a mile or so of the Cyrus McCormick Historical Site. In 1760, William, another brother, also removed to Augusta County.”

  • Robert McKee died in Rockbridge County on June 11, 1774, which I suspect is the date his will was probated or the date of his will. His wife, Agnes, died in 1780, age 84. “All the traditions refer to Robert as a perfect type of Sturdy old Scotch Irishman. He was a strict Presbyterian but by no means an overbearing or aggressive Calvinist. On the contrary, he was a mild-mannered man and attended to his own business in both religious and secular matters. He was a man of the greatest integrity, respected by all who knew him, of sound sense and judgment, and a good citizen.”
  • John McKee settled on Kerr’s Creek where his wife was killed by the Shawnee in 1763. He died October 29, 1791 in Rockbridge County. “I have always heard John spoken of with the greatest respect and admiration by the Kentucky McKees, but he had not, from all accounts, the mild manner which characterized Robert. He was most positive in his language and actions and, in his day, made his full share of enemies.”
  • William McKee initially settled in either Botetourt or Augusta County, but moved to Kentucky about 1788. His descendants live in Montgomery County, KY, but William was said to have died in Virginia at an unknown date.

First cousins Miriam, daughter of John, and William, son of Robert, married each other and kept a Bible recording the deaths of both John and Robert. The dates differ slightly from the dates given above. John’s death is recorded as “March 2, 1792, in the 84th year of his age,” which means he was born about 1708. Robert’s death is recorded as “June 11, 1766, in Rockbridge County, age 82,” which means he was born about 1684.

Another book, “One Who Gave His Life” by James Lucy, states that a group of men, including the McKees, came and settled near the coast.

The Ulster-Scots from County Down left Ireland for America about 1735. They were staunch Presbyterians and descendants of one of the defenders of Londonderry who had “acquitted himself with great gallantry and suffered patiently the horrors of that awful siege.” The McKees established themselves in Lancaster County, PA, and two of the family members took part in the ill-fated Braddock expedition of 1755.

Later, William, Robert, and John removed to the Valley of Virginia, but James stayed in Lancaster County, having sons John and Robert who inherited his lands. One tract was in Lancaster County, but James had also acquired land “in the Tuscarora settlement in western Pennsylvania, and in North Carolina.”

In 1752, James’s widow, adult children, and young son, William, went to North Carolina, where three years later, two miles to the west, Fort Dobbs was built as a border defense against the Indians.

The Scots-Irish passed further and further westward, into North Carolina and beyond, carrying with them their racial strength, religious bent, and their enthusiasm for freedom.

Another author, Rev. A. J. McKellway in 1905 writes in “The North Carolina Booklet,” that:

The migrants from Pennsylvania, including William McKee, were already and speedily establishing cultivation. The versatility of the early settlers, men and women alike, was as remarkable as their thrift and perseverance.

William McKee first served in the campaign under General Rutherford against the Cherokees in the summer of 1776. In the spring of that year, this tribe, incited by the British, descended from the mountains in a succession of murderous forays, and by the 28th of June, 200 western settlers had been slain. General Griffith, 400 men of the militia under his command, by swift movement into the Indian country, surprised the savages and completely destroyed their power to harass the frontier. Rutherford’s forces started on their march for the trackless mountains on July 19, and after the accomplishments of their arduous task, the men were disbanded at Salisbury on October 3. Afterwards, McKee served under General Davidson and Colonel Locke and refused to accept any compensation for his military service. His country needed the money more than he did, he declared. It was his belief that a man should no more accept pay for defending his country than for protecting his family. While Wiliam McKee was soldiering with the North Carolinians, his older brother, Robert, served as a Captain of a Pennsylvania company, and a first cousin, Colonel William McKee of Rockbridge County, Virginia, marched with the Old Dominion troops from Point Pleasant to the surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown.

After the war, these men went quietly back to their farms and workshops and turned their energies to improving their own and their children’s circumstances and building up the country.

Early Appalachian Virginia McKees

There were McKee men in the Washington County, Virginia region about the same time as Andrew, based on records I found.

  • There is an Alexander McKee whose will was entered on March 17, 1778 in Washington County. He received 3000 acres in 1774 due to his service during the Revolution.
  • There was a Lt. William McKee who served in the Revolutionary War out of Botetourt County and was the son of Robert, one of the original brothers. This man signed the Virginia Constitution and eventually moved to Kentucky about 1790.
  • An Elias McKey or Mackey served in Washington and Montgomery County. Elias McKee is found on the 1782 Washington County tax list.
  • Then, the local cousin reported, “I have a stickey note that says “Andrew McKee died in W. Chester Co., Pa. July (I think July, J something) 25, 1732.”

It’s quite likely that Andrew McKee descends from this line of men, especially given the names of his sons and the migration route into Washington County, Virginia.

I’m hoping to find a male McKee who descends from Andrew and is willing to do a Y DNA test which will help us connect our McKee line back in time to earlier McKee men. If that is you, or someone you know, I have a Y DNA testing scholarship for you! Just reach out. Y DNA testing is the single most productive thing we can do for our McKee line genealogy.

Based on the first records we do have for Andrew, he was probably born sometime around 1760.

Based on the ages of his proven children, Andrew was probably likely around 1788, so born sometime between 1760 and 1765. The 1810 census tells us that he was over 45 years of age, so we know he was not born in 1765 or after.

Washington County on the Frontier

The lands within Washington County had been contested by the Shawnee and Cherokee tribes. The three branches of the Holston River provided prime hunting grounds.

Early settlers in the region fled due to the French and Indian War (1754-1763). The first permanent settlement began in 1769. Most of the early settlers streamed down the valley from Pennsylvania, a generation or two after the first immigrant in their family line. Many were Scots-Irish, hardy men who knew battle and hard work, and weren’t afraid of either.

In 1779 and 1780, men from Washington County marched with William Campbell to King’s Mountain, where the Tories were resoundingly defeated by these mountain men that the Tory leader had the bad judgment to mock and disparage. HUGE mistake.

The Tories were gone, but not the drama. Nosiree, not for a minute.

In 1782, Arthur Campbell led a movement to establish a new western state, the State of Franklin. Washington County residents were divided in their opinions, but after attempting to run a “parallel” government for some time, the effort collapsed into disarray.

The State of Franklin attempted to push into Cherokee land, and in March of 1788, the Chickamauga and Chickasaw attacked again.

Finally, in February 1789, the failed State of Franklin disappeared altogether.

Andrew McKee was in this area because on October 5, 1789, his land was surveyed.

Land

Land was so often the lure that crooked her come-hither finger and caused young men to set out with nothing more than a horse and dreams.

Andrew McKee may well have been one of those young men. His father and uncles and maybe older brothers would probably have fought in the Revolutionary War, but Andrew was too young.

When that war ended, vast swaths of land opened on the western frontier. Officials back east hoped that frontiersmen, particularly the difficult-to-manage Scots-Irish, would move westward and provide a barrier between the Native tribes that were still somewhat volatile, not fond of treaty-breaking whites that settled on their land, and the cities and towns further east. If anyone got attacked, let it be the Scots-Irish who were experienced and certainly knew how to wage battle.

Washington County, VA, was a mega-county formed in December of 1776, along with Montgomery and Kentucky. Yes, one county would eventually become the entire state of Kentucky.

If Andrew McKee was slightly older when that land bug bit him, he was probably accompanied by a starry-eyed young bride who would pretty much have followed him anyplace – and obviously did.

To the frontier. Land of bears, wolves, bobcats, and danger. Also, the land of opportunity. Land available for the clearing and inhabiting of your own farm.

Jeffrey La Favre mapped this area of what was originally Augusta County, Virginia, and became Washington County and plotted the various grantees and original landowners on a map, here.

I am incredibly grateful! Thank you, Jeffrey.

We know that Andrew McKee was there by the fall of 1789 when his land was surveyed. It was subsequently granted on July 19, 1790 – just in time for the 1790 census if it existed for Washington County. But alas, it doesn’t.

Page 373 – Andrew McKee, assignee of Zephemah Woolsey, assignee of Joseph Posey – 228 ac – commissioners certificate – on a branch of the middle fork of Holstein River – corner to John Kelly’s land – supposed to be on James Thompson’s line – with a line of Dozers survey – in a valley – corner to Samuel Kithcart’s land – October 5, 1789

Andrew likely bought the patent rights to have this land surveyed from Woolsey.

Andrew was able to snag a nice piece, including a section of the Holston River and probably a crisp, clear spring that drained into the river.

The Washington County Surveyors Record 1781-1797 shows the grants of the neighbors too.

Page 415 – James Thompson – 41 ac – treasury warrant #11963 – on both sides of the middle fork of Holstein River – on the north side of the river a corner to his old patent track – corner to Wilson & John Kelly’s land with Andrew McKee’s line – January 18, 1794

Page 458 – James Robinson, assignee of Moses Edmondson – 100 ac – treasury warrant #8184 dated February 2, 1782 – on a branch of the middle fork of Holstein River – line of Thomas Edmondson, Sr.’s land – corner to David Snodgrass – line of James Robinson’s land – corner to David Martins land – corner to John Kelley’s land – corner to Andrew McKee’s land – June 27, 1796

Page 460 – Jacob Halfacre, assignee of James Thompson – 35 ac – treasury warrant #12173 dated June 4, 1782 – on a Spring Branch of the middle fork of Holstein River – corner to Halfacre’s old survey – in James Thompson’s old survey – corner to McKee’s land – August 23, 1796

If you were to fast-forward in time, you’d recognize a great many of these families purchasing goods at Andrew McKee’s estate sale in the future.

Selecting Land

Andrew would have selected his land with several things in mind. The terrain might have been difficult to view, given that the land wasn’t yet cleared.

Most importantly, it had to have fresh water that was not contaminated upstream.

On this topographical map, I’ve placed the red star where Andrew built his house, on the bluff of the hill. You can see the small stream running right past the house, which is likely why this location was selected.

Well, that and the hill is not AS prone to flooding. I don’t know if Andrew somehow knew about the Holston floods, or if he was just exercising good judgment about rivers in general – but he made an excellent choice.

Of course, it’s also possible that he built a small cabin first and learned the hard way – or there were ruins of someone else’s cabin.

Here’s the little stream that watered and sustained the family, right at the bend in the road leading to Andrew’s house on the right.

But, Andrew’s house wasn’t just any house. It was actually quite remarkable, and, amazingly, still stands.

Driving to Andrew’s Land

My cousin from Washington County was kind enough to drive us to the McKee land, while cousin Daryl recorded our pathway. Thank goodness, or I could never have found this again.

Me, I was busy fighting motion sickness – turning a funny shade of green. I don’t do well in the passenger’s seat on those twisty curvy mountain roads.

I’ve included directions in case you’d like to visit.

From Abington, drive north on 81 to exit 35 (Whitetop Road) – right off the ramp and immediately right on 762, S. River Road, which becomes Friendship Road. A sign says you’re leaving Smyth County and reentering Washington County. The road curves, a 90-degree turn to the left. The house on the right is the old McKee home – up on the hill. My cousin says the house has been recorded in a local book.

I “drove” this route with Google Street View, but unfortunately, the Google car doesn’t drive down some types of roads. The section in front of the McKee house at 12786 Friendship Road is missing, unfortunately.

However, we can see the clump of trees on the right, on the hill. The stream is running on the right side of the road now, where the cattle are watering, and runs directly in front of the house, which is located behind the trees.

Fortunately, Google Earth saved me. We can’t drive by, but we can see the house fairly well.

Someone erected a period split rail fence that, of course, is exactly what Andrew would have had.

You can see the creek path in front, meandering along beside the road.

Fortunately, I took pictures of the house all those years ago.

I told you, this house looks different than other original log cabins.

For the time, this was a HUGE home. At least four times as large as normal log cabins, which were often no larger than a single room – two at most. This house has two fireplaces, one on each end.

Let me share some thoughts with you.

In the photo below, you can see the original cabin logs, at the top, and a very tall field-rock foundation, beneath. Thankfully, the siding was cut away when I was there.

This was a massive, substantial building.

I’d wager that this house was built with the extra tall foundation at least partly due to Holston flooding. That also explains the raised second-story porch, and no porch underneath at ground level. But I think there’s more to this story.

The chimney reaches all the way to the ground, so it’s possible that there are actually two fireplaces on each end – one below and one above, with different flues in the same chimney. I wish this building was on the register of historic places. It should be.

Note those small windows by the fireplace. We’ll talk about those in a few minutes.

Let’s Visit Andrew

I found this home listed at Realtor.com. The listing says it was originally built in 1765, which would be right after the end of the French and Indian War, but before the first permanent settlement in the area. I wonder how that year was determined. I can’t help but think a year might have been carved on a beam someplace.

Come on inside.

I want you to take a minute here to relax and close your eyes. When you open them, you’re not in the here and now, but back in the late 1700s. You’ve just ridden up on your horse, or maybe walked a mile or so from a neighboring cabin, and you’re visiting Andrew.

Maybe someone is ill, and you’re bringing soup. Maybe you’re the midwife delivering another baby. Maybe you’re John Kelly, Andrew’s best friend and neighbor, and you’re going to sit by the fire and discuss crops and a fence.

Or maybe you’re the preacher making rounds, or visiting because that baby that was just delivered, died. The entire family is in tears, especially Elizabeth. You’ll be consoling the family, saying soothing preacherly things, then helping Andrew out in the barn make a small casket. You’ll be preaching that funeral tomorrow.

You rode up the path towards the barn and tied the horse, or maybe the mule, by the water, and you’re walking towards the house. A dog runs up to greet you, and you hear children’s voices.

You dug some potatoes and carrots, and stop to put them in the root cellar. Elizabeth sent some onions over last week, and everyone will need the food during the upcoming winter. Root cellars, built into the ground, keep everything cool. Some even have water running through one side, but this one doesn’t. The Holston river floods too high for that.

The newer log cabins are built with a door, but they only have a string that hangs out through the hole by the latch. Don’t want company, pull the string inside. No one has locks.

Andrew’s home is different though. His doors are barricaded. Bolts, reinforced wood and steel. A veritable fort. You can shoot from the holes above the door if you need to. We still have an Indian scare, here, from time to time. Andrew says he’s never felt entirely safe since John McKee’s wife was tomahawked and scalped by the Shawnee in the Kerr Creek Massacre.

Nope. Never have and never will. This is, after all, the frontier.

No one is getting through these doors, or these walls either. Since peace came to the valley, Andrew’s doors are never bolted after sunup, and generally not even shut during the day. Too hot for that in the summer.

You shout out, “howdy” as you climb those outside stairs and walk across the porch, alerting the family that someone was there, and walk on in.

You’ve never seen another cabin with outside stairs like that.

This house, like all cabins, didn’t exactly have rooms back then, at least not on the main floor. The kitchen was the center of the home where cooking was done in the fireplace, which was also the source of heat for the entire household.

The colder it was, the closer in people gathered by the fire.

The walls were thick. You looked out the window, as one of the older children was tending the bee hives outside. For a minute, you sat in the windowsill which was as thick as the wall was deep, and just watched. There would be honey in the fall to sweeten some of the baked goods at Christmas. What a luxury!

The wooden beams were hewn from the logs that had been cleared to make room on this hillside for Andrew’s home. The ceiling was low in order to contain heat in the winter.

The stones in the fireplace and hearth were dug out of the field, shaped to fit by a master stonemason, and placed so that the chimney flue would draft the smoke up and out. A poor fireplace and stray sparks were responsible for many cabin fires that burned families out entirely, or burned them to death.

Fire and Indians were a frontiersman’s worst fears.

Venison stew with beans was cooking in a pot over the fire, on the pothook, where it would simmer all day. The scent wafted through the house. As the hungry men came in from the fields, everyone was welcome to take a wooden trencher, a carved out wooden item that was a combination of a plate and bowl, from the mantle or cupboard, ladle in some stew, and cut some bread. Sometimes there was freshly churned butter for the bread too.

Them was good eats!

Of course, chairs were a luxury. Those pioneers made their own chairs, lashing them together as best they could. But mostly, people sat on benches by a table of long boards. A generation or so after an area was settled, you might be able to bid on some old pioneer’s chairs at an estate sale after he was gone. Bless his heart and soul.

Of course, the executor of his estate made sure to pass around some of the local whiskey. It helped the bidding and raised the prices.

But in the early days, chairs were scarce, so everyone pulled up a windowsill, sat out on the porch, or on benches at the table.

In the back room, or in Andrew’s house, on the lower level, crocks held cabbage and other brined vegetables that would see the family through the winters and early spring known as the starving time. This was especially important if hunting was too dangerous or the men came home empty-handed. Of course, when the wars broke out, which seemed to be often, the men were gone for long stretches at a time, and everyone had to make do – until, or if, the men returned home.

Andrew’s home was HUGE by pioneer standards, but that was because it was the local station, or fort. Most cabins were a couple hundred square feet, max, with rudimentary ladder-type steps to the “upstairs” where the kids slept. Rain and snow blew in between the boards, and everyone huddled together to keep warm.

At almost 3,000 square feet, with two fireplaces for cooking and heat, Andrew’s home could shelter several families in times of danger. Men could defend the fort using those high windows or shooting through the holes above the doors. Indians would have had to run up the hill, out in the open. Yes, this was the best place for a local defensive fort.

That also meant it literally felt like a community possession, and everyone felt at home here.

Bedrooms weren’t just for sleeping.

Women had to spin thread from cotton or linen that was then used to weave cloth to make clothing. Sheep were sheered, and their wool was spun into yarn that was knitted into socks, capes and such.

Everything had to be grown and then processed. Work was from sunup to sundown, and often later by candlelight.

The women often gathered together, making those communal tasks. Not only did many hands make for light work, but they needed each other’s companionship. The people you depended on were your neighbors, who might have also been your family.

Blankets were woven, and quilts were often made from clothing scraps. Everyone shared.

Young children would have slept in the bedroom with their parents, and older children likely slept in the lofts. Andrew, however, had two additional beds, one for boys and one for girls.

Andrew had quite a large family and would tell you just how lucky he was that 13 of his children lived. That was nearly unheard of. That meant that he had lots of help on the farm, of course, but it also meant he had 15 mouths to feed and needed three beds!

Our visit with Andrew has been lovely, but of course, we have to drift back to the present.

The owners have done an amazing job with modernizing without destroying the historical charm of the McKee home. It would have been so much easier to just cover everything up – and the series of owners from then until now has not done that. I don’t know who you are – but THANK YOU!.

Of course, as modernizing occurred, the ever-present threat of flooding was kept in mind, and it appears that the wiring is concentrated in the rafters. The old, original beams seem to have been reinforced. Andrew’s house may stand forever, a testament to those men who built it with nothing more than hand tools! If it was built in 1765, we’re now at 257 years. This may be one of the oldest remaining structures in western Virginia.

Click to enlarge any image.

In this satellite view, you can see Andrew’s section of the Holston River that I’ve labeled “Holston.” You can also still see the field lines that follow his property lines in the survey. And of course, his house.

I’m sure when the Holston floods, everything in this area is covered in water. The good news is that flooding makes the fields fertile, another important aspect of selecting land.

However, this makes the fact that this home still stands even more incredible! It must be built like a battleship.

Early Forts

I want to call your attention to those small windows near the crest of the roof.

The style, size and fortification of this home, in addition to these windows, suggest that this might have been a local station house. A fort, of sorts.

In the early deeds of many East Tennessee and Virginia counties, we find references to places with names such as “Carter’s Station” and “Martin’s Station.” For example, in what would become Hawkins County, Tennessee, on another branch of the Holston River, we find Carter’s Station established in 1787, and Martin’s Station in Lee County, VA. Stations were often the earliest homes, established along Native American pathways, which were often the same pathways settlers used when settling an area.

Stations were early “forts” where settlers rushed when any sort of attack was expected. Families gathered together inside for protection, and the men fought from, hopefully, an advantageous position.

Hence, the high windows of a building and a more elevated position would both confer an advantage. Was this McKee’s Station? I don’t know. We might find mention of that in the deeds of the neighbors or court notes. I don’t have access to the deed books without another trip either to Washington County, the Family History Library in Salt Lake City, or the Allen County Public Library in Fort Wayne, Indiana. Hmmm….

Let’s continue with a tour of Andrew’s neighborhood.

The McKee Cemetery  

If you continue to the end of the road and turn left on to route 736 – Kelly’s Chapel Road, you’ll have arrived at the McKee cemetery – or where it used to be. Behind the 1st fence on the left, the old cemetery is near the trees, but nothing remains now. It was destroyed by cattle, according to the local cousin.

Google Street View doesn’t travel down this road either, but you can see the area from the satellite view.

It’s worth noting that this cemetery is not on Andrew’s original land grant, and I doubt it’s on the second piece he apparently purchased because his second “plantation” was adjacent his first. I think this location was beyond that and just the other side of John Kelly’s land based on the La Favre drawing.

My cousin didn’t know who, exactly, was buried here, just that it was the McKee Cemetery of long ago.

Andrew’s descendants probably rest among those trees, but it’s unlikely that Andrew himself is there.

According to the local cousin, on this same stretch of road, there’s also a newer, but still quite old McKee home that has been sided, shown above. This might have been the “second” plantation owned by Andrew that eventually was inherited by his sons, or maybe land purchased later by his descendants.

The McKee family still owns land across the road from the original homestead.

The Original Land

I was trying to gain perspective on Andrew’s original land.

This flat strip of the river that Andrew owned is about one-fifth mile long.

Andrew’s house was located about that far from the Holston River.

These are roughly his property lines, with the house in the red square and the McKee Cemetery in the red circle.

The Neighborhood

Going on past the cemetery intersection, you come to the fork of River Road and Loves Mill, which is Edmondson land. Down that road is Mt. Olivet United Methodist church and cemetery.

The Mt. Olivet cemetery is across from the church on Love’s Mill Road, below

The cemetery overlooks the beautiful mountains in the background

In the other direction, near the McKee Cemetery, we find Kelly’s Chapel Church.

According to my cousin, the McKees lived in the Kelly’s Chapel church area, which used to be called McKee’s Store, and was changed to Kelly’s Chapel to keep peace in the family and not to upset someone.

Kelly’s Chapel church, above, with its old foundation.

Many later McKee family members are buried here.

Ebbing Springs Presbyterian Church

The oldest church in the area was Ebbing Springs Presbyterian Church, 5 or 6 miles from Andrew McKee’s home and assuredly where he attended church. He would have loaded the kids on the wagon and set off for church in good weather. Not sure what they did in bad weather.

I’ve noted the locations we’ve visited so far.

In 1773, Ebbing Springs and Sinking Springs Presbyterian Church, in Abingdon joined forces to obtain the Reverend Charles Cummings who preached in both churches from 1773 to 1780. Men, including the good Reverend himself, came to church with their rifles at their sides.

Today, the old church and cemetery are long gone, replaced by the “new” church nearby, above, but the Glade Springs Congregation erected a memorial stone to commemorate the early settlers buried there. You can view some early photos, here.

The location of Ebbing Spring, shown above, which apparently actually does ebb and flow, isn’t actually at the present-day church. From the church intersection above, head down 736, Debusk Mill Road near the old mill on the banks of the North Fork of the Holston where the original church and cemetery were located. I was told that the old gravestones stones were actually pushed into the Holston River.

I would bet that Andrew McKee, his wife, and children are found resting here, along the river, in now-unmarked graves. We know that when Andrew’s neighbor and friend, John Kelly, died in 1834, his will specified that he be buried by his wife’s side in the Ebbing Spring graveyard.

Andrew’s son, William McKee is reportedly buried in the Cemetery beside the Sinking Springs Presbyterian Church in Abingdon. A memorial marker for the McKee family is located there.

Update: I subsequently proved that this William McKee, a merchant in Abingdon, is NOT the son of William McKee, who appears to have died about 1811. Please see the article, here, about Andrew McKee’s wife, Elizabeth, and their children.

The fact that the first church in the area was Presbyterian is a clue, as is the surname McKee itself, that Andrew was indeed Scots-Irish. Apparently, Andrew’s neighbor, John Kelly, who was also the executor of his estate, was Presbyterian and Scots-Irish too.

The 1810 Census

We find Andrew in the 1810 census, which was taken on August 6th.

  • 1 free white male 0-9
  • 2 free white males 10-15
  • 2 free white males 16-25
  • 1 free white male over 45 (Andrew)
  • 5 free white females 0-9
  • 2 free white females 10-15
  • 1 free white female 16-25
  • 1 free white female 26-45 (Elizabeth)
  • 10 total household members under 16
  • 2 household members over 25
  • Total number of household members 15

Andrew and his wife had 13 children living at home in 1810.

Thankfully, this census also tells us that Andrew did not own slaves, which I find hugely relieving. It also means that his family supplied all the labor themselves. Good thing he had 13 children.

The census is quite interesting because it ties in with Andrew’s will in a strange sort of way.

You see, Andrew wrote his will in 1805, but didn’t die until 1814. Andrew’s will names his children, and the census confirms them by age…and…tells us something more.

Two additional daughters and a son were born after Andrew’s will was written in 1805 and before the 1810 census. Otherwise, we might never have known – or more specifically, never understood what “strange” records 29 years later were telling us.

Andrew’s Will

I sure would like to know what happened in 1805.

Did Andrew get hurt? Was he so gravely injured that it was believed that his death was imminent?

Men at that time didn’t write a will in preparation for an uncertain future. They didn’t write a will until they believed they were going to need one. Andrew must have been gravely ill, calling his neighbors to his bedside to witness him writing and signing his will.

There’s no sign that any of his children died, so it likely wasn’t something like Cholera, Smallpox, or Dysentery that would have been shared by family members. The area wasn’t swampy, so no “swamp” fevers.

In 1805, Andrew would have been about 40 – in the prime of his life.

Yet, he was obviously thinking about his demise, shortly, and put his wishes on paper. You can tell this was spontaneous and not a “form” because it doesn’t contain the typical introductory paragraph. He got right down to business.

I have transcribed his will with the original spelling.

I, Andrew McKee of Washington County, Virginia do make and publish this my last will and testament. After my executors pay all espence (sic) of clothing and buriel my desire is that all my perishable property shall be sold and the money arising on it shall to go pay all my just debts and the balance shall be disposed of as will be hereafter directed.

First, I gave to my wife Elizabeth one third of all the money in possession or due and arising on the sale of the property after all by debts is paid to her untill she marry then it shall return to all my daughters but if she never married she shall have it during her life then to return to them all equally likewise she shall have the dwelling house untill she marryes but if she never marries then she shall have it during her life. Also she shall have her maintenance and as many of the children as she will keep until she marryes if not she shall have it during her life. The money to be paid her after the property is sold and the money collected and must be paid by the executors.

Second I gave to my four sons James, William, Edward and Andrew my two plantations the one on which I live the other joining to be equally divided between them when the youngest comes of age to be divided by the executors provided they can’t egree themselves. If any of them dye before the come of age or marry then their part shall go to the rest all equally but still Elizabeth my wife shall have her maintenance as was provided for her before. My will and desire is that the executors rent out both my plantations untill my four sons all come of age and the rents shall go to the seport of Elizabeth my wife or so much as is reasonable for her seport the balance shall be left for my four sons when the come to the age of inheritance.

Third. I gave to my six daughters Sally, Mary, Ann, Charity, Jain and Elizabeth all the money that is left after all my debts is paid and the one third that my wife is to receive and likewise my four sons shall pay my six daughters two hundred dollars in money when the girls comes of age. If any of my daughters shall dye before the come of age or marry their part shall go to the rest all equally

All the money goods or chattles which I have devised shall go to them and their heirs forever escept otherwise provided.

And further I desire my executors to bind out all my children escept such of them as my wife shall choose to keep with her to some good trade or calling.

And lastly I appoint my friends Samuel Kelly and John Kelly Jr. of this my last will…no security required…revoking all former wills.

Signed March 24, 1805 in the presence of:
Andrew Edmiston
John Todd
Andrew E. Kelly

At a court held for Washington County the 21st day of June 1814 the last will and testament of Andrew McKee decd was eschibited into court proved by the oaths of Andrew Edmiston and Andrew E. Kelly two of the subscribing witnesses and ordered recorded. On the motion of Samuel Kelly and John Kelly Jr. the executors therein named…took the oath of an escecutor.

Andrew was by no means an old man when he wrote his will, nor when he died 9 years later. Based on that 1760 estimated birth year, he would have been 54. Some researchers put his birth year closer to 1765, which means he would have been about 50.

I can’t help but wonder if whatever was wrong back in 1805 resurfaced in 1814. Although the 1814 fatal event may have been sudden, because Andrew never updated his will with his three youngest children.

Estate Sale

Andrew’s estate sale took place in August. That’s actually quite speedy, which makes me wonder if the sale was actually 14 months later, not two. I can’t read the year clearly, but it doesn’t actually matter.

Two of Andrew’s sons were purchasers, as was his wife, who was noted as both “The Widow” and “Elizabeth McKee.”

Based on how his will was written, Andrew’s wife would have had to purchase anything she wanted. She would receive one-third of the estate value, and some of that value she would have wanted in the form of household goods and furniture. Put another way, she had to allow two-thirds of her household goods to be sold. Ouch!

Purchasers were:

  • James McKee purchased a good deal of farming equipment, plus a saddle and bridle, a bull, heifer, 2 steers, black mare, grindstone
  • Andrew McKee – saddle and bridle, farming equipment, black horse, sorrel colt
  • “The widow” purchased a large kettle, 2 churns, 1 small pot, 1 pot, 1 oven, pail and wash tub, 2 pot racks, 4 cows, grey mare, 6 sheep, 2 pair cards and flat iron
  • Elizabeth McKee – 1 bedstead, bed and furniture, 1 small and large bedstead and bed, 1 chest of drawers, 2 spinning wheels, 1 table, 6 old chairs, cupboard and furniture, 1 bed, 1 counting reel, 3 old keggs, 1 bag 2 baskets, 2 lines, 1 loom, 1 hackle
  • Henry Bois (Boys)
  • Daniel Boyd
  • Moses Brooks
  • David Buchanan
  • John Casey
  • James Cleghorn
  • John Cole
  • Robert Crow
  • William Deen
  • John Evans
  • Andrew Gibson
  • Thomas Gill
  • James Grimes
  • Thomas James
  • Samuel Kelly
  • John Larrymore
  • Robert Larrymore
  • Siberius Main
  • John Main
  • James McGill
  • Robert Murdock
  • Arthur Orr
  • David Roberson
  • John Roe
  • Daniel Troscel

Estate sale Aug. 19

The sale document was filed with the court on February 20, 1816

Andrew was not a poor man, not even in 1805. At that point, he had two plantations. Of course, plantations then meant something a bit different than we think of today. Still, he had two nice farms, one that was 228 acres, and quite a bit of equipment and livestock

In total, Andrew had the following property, in addition to the farms:

Item Number Comment – Money in $
Plows 3 5.29
Harrow 1 2.50
Pitchfork 1 .67
Axes 3 1.58
Hoes 3 1.00
Pair stretchers and clives 1 1.72
Stock lock 1 1.39
Riddle or ribble (can’t read) and old iron 1 2.05
Wheel 1 .30
Saddle and bridle 2 The set that James purchased was $15, the one that Andrew purchased was $1
Large kettle 1 1.00
Churns 2 .60
Small pot 1 .25
Pot 1 .75
Oven 2 .50
Skillet 1 .62
Kettle 1 3.25
Pail and washtub 1 1.00
Pot rack 2 .30
Catting box and knife 1 1.58
Shovel 1 .88
Pair gears 2 4.30
Bridle 4 2.30
Beehive 3 4.86
Sickle 3 2.46
Still and tubs 1 75.00
Heifer/cow 11 100.07
Calves 3 7.00
Steer 7 41.47
Ball 1 5.25
Wagon and hind gears 1 74.00
Geese 17 6.05
Mare 3 57.25
Sorrel horse 1 50.00
Bay mare and colt 1 50.00
Sorrel colt 1 50.00
Gun, moles, and wipers 1 5.80
Sheep 22 29.69
Kegs 5 2.50
2 pair cards and flat iron 1 2.0
Hogs 15 19.05
Bedstead, bed, and furniture 1 8.00
Small bedstead & bed 1 3.00
Large bedstead & bed 1 9.00
Spinning wheel 2 1.50
Table 1 1.00
Old chairs 6 1.00
Cupboard & furniture 1 5.00
Bed 1 3.00
Counting reel 1 .50
1 bag, 2 baskets 1 .39
Lines 2 .30
Chairs 3 1.05
Arm chair 1 .72
Grindstone 1 .95
Loom 1 3.00
Hackle 1 1.00

All of the family possessions, less the real estate which went to Andrew’s sons, amounted to $671.69, of which $85.56 was sold to Elizabeth, his widow.

Andrew had obviously continued to farm after whatever happened in 1805. Two of his sons were purchasing farming equipment.

Andrew had four mares, a horse, and two colts, but only two saddles and bridles. Two of his sons purchased one set each.

It’s interesting what’s NOT listed in his estate. None of Andrew’s clothes, no guns, no butchering equipment, no knives, no crops or produce, no plates or silverware, and no quilts, bedcoverings, or blankets. You know beyond a doubt that Andrew’s household had all of these things.

Almost every farmer had a secondary skill, but there were no shoemaker tools, no candlemaking tools, no blacksmith tools, and no carpentry tools in Andrew’s estate.

I’d also bet Andrew owned a Bible, but that’s open to speculation. He did not sign his will with a mark, so he clearly could read and write. There were also no other books listed either.

We know one thing that Andrew McKee did, positively, He distilled whiskey in a fine Irish tradition. His still and tubs were the single most valuable item of his possessions. Sure enough, Andrew was a distiller. McKee’s finest!

Andrew’s sons didn’t purchase his still, either. There was quite a good market for whiskey, which was used medically and for another form of “medicine” as well.

Andrew’s widow, Elizabeth, still had every single child at home, all 13 of them, ranging in age from 4 to about 25 or 26, so she clearly needed all of the beds and furniture they had. If you look at the list, four beds for a married couple and 13 children isn’t much at all.

Maybe they had a boy’s bed and two girl’s beds.

Those upper windows – you know who was sleeping up there. I suspect some of those children were probably sleeping on straw on the floor – maybe by choice rather than sleep in a bed full of squirming siblings.

Children

When children are listed in a will, we presume that ALL of the children are listed – but that wasn’t the case. Well, let me restate. It was at the time the will was written.

Andrew and Elizabeth had three more children after Andrew made his will; Eliza, Rebecca, and Alexander, who was born about 1810. This suggests that Andrew’s wife, Elizabeth was probably 42ish in 1810, putting her birth about 1768 and her marriage to Andrew about 1788ish – just before or around the time he had that land surveyed.

Andrew didn’t die for another nine years after he wrote his will – which means he was still relatively young – someplace around 50.

Let’s correlate our data using the 1810 census, Andrew’s will, and what we know about Andrew’s children based on birth or marriage dates.

Child – in will order 1805 Will 1810 Census Birth Marriage Other
James Yes 1785-1794 Jan 12, 1791 Jan 1816 Sarah Roe Died July 18, 1855
William Yes 1785-1794 1788-1794 Died abt 1811 Not the William McKee who lived in Abingdon.
Edward Yes 1795-1800 Abt 1798 Dec 1818 Mary Hand Died 1832
Andrew Yes 1795-1800 Abt 1796 Mar 1816 Nancy Roe
Sally Yes 1785-1794 Abt 1790 Dec 1810 Robert Larimer
Mary Yes 1795-1800 Abt 1799 Jan 1820 John Larimer
Ann Yes 1800-1810 1804-1805 Feb 1823 Charles Speak
Charity Yes 1800-1810 Aft 1800 May 1823 William Griever Minor in June 1818
Jain (Jane, Jenny) Yes 1800-1810 Abt 1803 Abt 1823 Richard Jones Minor in Jan 1822, died before May 1839
Elizabeth Yes 1795-1800 Abt 1795 Wallace
Rebecca No 1800-1810 1805-1809 William Jamison Will probated April 22, 1839
Eliza No 1800-1810 1805-1806 Jan 1823 Eleazer Rouse Minor in Jan 1822
Alexander No 1801-1810 1810 Never married Will May 20, 1839, named sisters in will

Perhaps on my next trip to Sale Lake City, I’ll have the opportunity to search through the Washington County deeds and court records for more information about Andrew’s life. Maybe Andrew has a few secrets yet to reveal.

Au Revoir for Now

It’s time to leave Andrew after one last look at the beautiful McKee land on the Middle Fork of the Holston River.

It sure looks a lot different today. When Andrew staked his claim, that was just the first step. The land had to be cleared before it could be farmed. Tree by tree. Felled and the stump removed.

Andrew would be proud to see his manicured land today, his beautiful home still standing. How I wish he could tell us stories.

Some of his family members, now several generations removed, still live on surrounding land and nearby, two and a half centuries later.

Like the details of Andrew’s life, most of his descendants have scattered hither and yon. It’s only in the last few years, through genealogy, then genetic genealogy, that we have discovered and reconnected with Andrew.

McKee DNA

Our DNA is reuniting us as Andrew’s descendants, confirming Andrew and Elizabeth as our common ancestors.

Andrew lives on in me on chromosomes 4 and 10, where I match other cousins.

Many of Andrew’s descendants carry a bit of his DNA, a gift that we can map on the palette of our chromosomes, like his land is mapped upon the earth. A wink and a nod from the past.

Now, like Andrew’s DNA, perhaps Andrew’s story will be carried forward as well so that Andrew’s life, as best we can resurrect, will never be forgotten.

Much like the three deaths.

The first death is when the body ceases to function. The second is when the body is consigned to the grave. The third is that moment, sometime in the future, when your name is spoken for the last time.

The final death is to be forgotten, to disappear entirely into oblivion, forever.

Andrew gave me life. I’m just returning the favor.

_____________________________________________________________

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Wolfgangius Gockeler & his wife, Barbara (born c 1585), I Baptize Thee – 52 Ancestors #370 & #371

In the article about Katharina Gockeler, I reported that her parents were Hans Gockeler and his wife, Katharina.

That information was incorrect. Mea culpa. Live and learn. As genealogists, we correct mistakes as soon as we find them.

Based on earlier documents from researchers in Germany, Hans Gockeler and his wife were, indeed, having children in Schnait at the right time, and did have a child, Catharina Goeckeler. This seemed like the right family, especially since one Hans Lentz was the godfather of the Catherina Gockeler born on May 27, 1604, and roughly 30 years later, a Katharina Gockeler would marry Hans Lenz, probably the son of the Hans Lentz/Lenz who stood up at the baptism of the Catherina born in 1604.

Yep, it seemed that Hans was Katharina’s father, right up until Beutelsbach historian Martin Goll discovered Catharina’s death record, which led to the correct birth record.

Martin was kind enough to share.

Cousin Tom was kind enough to translate:

Death: 25 Oct 1677 Beutelsbach

Catharina, surviving widow of the late Hanns Lentz(en), age 65.

We know this is the correct Catharina because she was indeed the widow of Hans Lenz/Lentz.

Now we have her age, which means she was born about 1612, not 1604. Which Katharina or Catharina was born in 1612?

Martin provided the record of her birth.

Cousin Tom translates:

9 October 1612 Beutelsbach

Baptism

Parents: Wolff Göckeler(n) and Barbara, his wife

Child: daughter, Catharina was baptized

Godparents: Alexander Wagner and Anna, Leonard Kurtz’ wife, …the daughter Anna ?

Marginal Notation added at a later date: Catharina, as Hans Lentz(in)’s widow.

Tom notes that “the data from the death entry fits well with the baptismal entry.  I would be confident with this data.”

Hmmm, I guess I need to start spelling her name Catharina, not Katharina.

Wait? What?

Catharina was born in Beutelsbach and not in Schnait as we originally thought? Granted, they are only a mile apart.

Cousin Martin adds, “In Schnait, I know there was a family Wolf Gokeler, but it is not sure if he was the father of Katharine. According to the remark, there is no sign about this father coming from somewhere else. We are not sure. Schnait was a long time a part of the Beutelsbach parish.”

What Martin means is that when the father was “from” somewhere else, meaning a citizen elsewhere, the church records would reflect that.

Tom says, “Regarding the Catharina problem above, Mr. Goll has it correct. The only baptism of a child of Wolff Gockeler and wife, Barbara, is the one in 1612. None afterwards. The baptisms from 1609-1611 are not extant. The marriages and deaths from this time period do not exist as well.”

In other words, we’ve hit a dead end.

Or maybe not entirely.

Digging Up Wolff

What can I dig up about Wolff Gockeler?

To begin with, absolutely nothing in Beutelsbach. Not one thing. Just as Tom said. How frustrating.

However, as Martin mentioned, Schnait didn’t have its own church until the 1560/70s. Before that, everyone in Schnait attended church and had all of their religious work done in Beutelsbach, meaning baptisms, confirmations, marriages, and funerals.

German citizens typically didn’t have a child baptized in a church where they didn’t live and weren’t citizens.

However, records for this timeframe are very scarce and only partially exist. Not to mention that the area was devastated by the plague which arrived and retreated in waves.

Unexpected circumstances could have forced the family to have baby Catharina baptized in Beutelsbach. Maybe the child was sickly and in peril. According to the religious doctrine of that time, a baby needed to be baptized before death if at all possible.

Maybe the Reverend was ill or absent, and the Beutelsbach church was the closest nearby location. Typically the baptism record would state such, and it says nothing to indicate that the parents lived in Schnait, not Beutelsbach. The godparents were Beutelsbach residents as well.

The plague had ravaged this area in 1595, so maybe Wolff Gockeler and Barbara had moved to Beutelsbach for his trade or profession. Of course, we don’t know what Wolff’s profession might have been – but Martin Goll thinks that Catharina’s parents were wealthy, which is how her husband, Hans Lenz, a baker from Schnait, wound up with ten vineyards when most people had one, at most.

If that’s the case, Catharina’s father may have been a well-to-do vintner, which means he was probably also a merchant, selling as well as producing wine. Almost every family was tied to the grape, wine, and vineyards in this region – if not directly – then secondarily. If you were a baker, like Hans Lenz, your customers were vinedressers and vintners.

The Path Leads to Schnait

We find nothing in Beutelsbach, but in the Schnait family book, we find several men named Wolff Gockeler or derivatives, but none with a wife named Barbara. Of course, Wolff could have been married to other women, either before or after Barbara, or both. He may not have married in Schnait. Or, the records we need could simply not exist anymore.

In Schnait, from the family book, we find:

  1. Wolff Gockeler, wife Dorothea, had son, Hanns Goeckeler on February 27, 1564, godparents Michel Ruele and Marta Schwegler. This birth date for Hanss puts Wolff’s birth sometime before 1540.
  2. Wolff Gockeler, wife Maria, had a daughter Catharina on March 25, 1595. This clearly isn’t the correct Catharina. This birth date puts Wolfe’s birth sometime around 1570 or earlier. This may very well be #4 below.
  3. Wolfgang Gockeler born October 15, 1598, died October 25, 1626 of the plague, and married Catharina Vaihinger, who died just a couple of months after Golfgang. Of their three children, the first child, Anna, lived long enough to marry, but the next two, born in 1622 and 1624, both died in the summer of 1635. (Note – keep 1635 in mind. More in a minute.) This Wolfgang Gockeler’s parents were Wolfgang Gockeler and Maria Dendler.
  4. Wolfgang Gockeler born in 1565 in Schnait and died in September of 1635 married Maria Dendler, who died in 1622. (There’s 1635 again.) They had six children, one of whom was a Catharina, born on March 25, 1596, and who died on May 18, 1636, in Schnait. Her death record says, “daughter, 40 years old, died of starvation.” Wolfgang and Maria had five other children. Of those, four are baptized but never mentioned again, which most of the time means they died young. The other child, Johannes, also died in July of 1635. (1635 again.)
  5. Wolfgangius Gockeler was born on March 11, 1582, to Lucas Goeckeler and Barbara Haan, but no further information is available about this child, or any of Lucas and Barbara’s five other children.
  6. Wolfgangus Gockeler was born March 9, 1586, to Lucas Goeckeler and Catherine, surname unknown. No further information is known. Lucas and Catherine had six other children. Nothing is known about five of them, but son Lucas died in October 1626 in Schnait of the plague.

Wolff’s Age

Of course, we don’t know when our Wolff Gockeler was born, but traditionally, a German man didn’t marry until he was about age 25. He needed to be able to support a family first.

If Catharina was his first child, Wolff would have been born no later than 1587ish.

If Barbara was roughly his same age, and Catharina was their last child when Barbara was age 45, then Wolff and Barbara would have been born 1567ish. Of course, if Barbara was a younger wife, Wolff could have been born earlier.

Wolff and Barbara were born sometime between roughly 1567-1587.

Of the various men listed above, we can:

  • Probably eliminate #1 due to age and a different wife, although clearly, people remarried. This Wolff was already having children in 1564.
  • Combine #2 with #4.
  • Eliminate #3 who was born too late.
  • Eliminate #4 because our Catharina’s mother was not named Maria, and Wolffgang was married to Maria in 1612 based on their children’s births.

Both #5 and #6 are good candidates to be “our” Wolff, both due to the dates they were born and due to the fact that nothing more about either of them appears in the Schnait church record. This would make sense if Wolff moved to and became a citizen of Beutelsbach.

Given that there were two Wolfgangus/Wolfgangius Gockelers, both about the same age, and both living in Schnait at the same time, this tells us that they did not have the same father, but could well have had the same grandfather who might have been named Wolfgangus.

We also have two Lucas Gockelers in Schnait at the same time as well, both having children. It’s evident that even though we don’t have the records, the Gockeler family was in residence here at least two generations earlier, given that Hans was born by 1540, and likely before that. This family’s history reaches back before existing records.

As cousin Tom said, “This will have to be the end of the Gockeler story as anything prior to this would be speculation without some additional data from other sources. Martin Goll has done a great job on this massive history.”

Other Gockelers

While this is certainly the end of anything resembling proof, it’s worth taking a look at anything Gockeler in the region during this timeframe, or earlier.

My friend, Maree, who lives halfway around the world, down under, sent me the following phone screenshot that she discovered using her local library.

Some days she finds wonderful information surfing on her phone that gets missed otherwise. Apparently, not everything from the church records is not yet recorded in the online Schnait family book.

Thank you, Maree!!

Hmmm, look, another Wolffgangus was born in 1579 to Lucas and Barbara.

Here’s the actual entry.

Given that Lucas Gockeler and Barbara, assuming there was only one couple by that name in Schnait during this time, was the same couple that had the child, Wolfgangius in 1582, this 1579 child would have died.

There was an earlier Wolffgang Gockeler in Schnait though, one who married Maria Dalderls in 1588.

The record has been translated as Gackeler, but assuredly, it’s the same family.

This is the same man as #4 in our Wolffgangius list. We know this is not our Wolff because this man’s daughter, Catherine, died in 1636, at 40 years of age, in Schnait, of starvation.

Think about the larger ramifications of that cause of death.

Starvation

Starvation. Even that word makes me cringe – and ask exceedingly difficult questions.

How long does it take an adult to starve to death?

It can take months if water and even small amounts of food or any kind of nutrition are available. People ate acorns, wood, and sawdust, yet perished anyway. Starvation is utterly horrific.

She wasn’t the only one. Notice all of those 1635 and 1636 deaths, including many young people – far more than normal.

The fact that residents were starving, beginning in 1634 and reaching across 1635 and 1636, tells you how awful, complete, and prolonged the devastation was following the Battle of Nordlingen.

Family Name

Clearly, Wolffgangius was a name passed down in this family for generations which makes for same-name confusion. The Wolffgangius, who married in 1588 and whose father was Hans, would have been born around 1560.

Based on the earliest records, we know that there was a Hans Gockeler having children in Schnait early, probably by about 1535, so born about 1510 or earlier, but that Hans is not the father of our Wolff Gockeler who was born later. At least we’ve eliminated one person.

How many Gockeler families lived in Schnait anyway?

How Big was Schnait?

The earliest church records we have for Schnait are the final three months of 1562, the full year of 1563, and the first three months of 1564. Then we have a half page of German script that, instead of additional church records, reveals some local drama that was probably quite serious.

According to my native German-speaking friend, Chris, the first note was written by Georg Schilling, pastor in Schnait, and is about his predecessor Bastian Lutz, whom he describes as “alcohol-addicted and did not take care of his duties. Plus, finally, because of this behavior, Bastian Lutz was buried beside the church, not in it.” Hoo-boy!!!

The next note is not legible but seems to be a note to Pastor Schilling.

This drama may well have been why the Schnait church records were discontinued abruptly in 1564, as reflected on the next page, and did not resume until 1570. It’s possible that the church was without a pastor for that many years.

However, the existing 1562-1564 records, combined with the records from 1570-1579 provide enough information to be able to extrapolate more about the population of Schnait.

Math is Our Friend

These records show an average of 2.25 baptisms each month, but not all of those babies lived.

Some infants perished and were buried not long after their births, having little crosses painfully scribed above their names in their birth record by the Reverend. Therefore, several women would be bringing another child into the world about that same time the following year.

For those mothers whose children did survive the first year, they would be having another baby about 18 months later.

Using this information, the calculations are as follows:

  • If every woman of reproductive age had a child once per year, that birth rate equates to about 27 couples having children.
  • If every woman of reproductive age had a child once every 18 months, that equates to about 40 different couples.
  • The actual number of couples is probably between those two numbers, so let’s say maybe 34 or 35.

There would be some households that were beyond childbearing years – maybe half as many as were having children since not many people lived beyond 60. However, I suspect that many households were multi-generational, with older couples living with family members, or maybe younger families living with one set of parents.

That gives us someplace between 35 and 50 total houses in Schnait in the 1560s and 1570s, and we’ve already seen that several families, at least 5 or 6, had the Gockeler surname.

Keep in mind that this is before the population was reduced by the Plague in 1595, and the dramatic reduction by about half in the first half of the 1600s due to the 30 Years’ War.

I have to wonder, were there Gockelers nearby too?

Cousin Wolfram’s Records

I’m related to Wolfram Callenius through multiple lines. He lives a few miles away and is deeply interested in both the history of the region and our families. You can find the index of his ancestors, here.

Under Gockeler, Wolfram shows several ancestors from Schnait.

Granted, none of these are mine, but that doesn’t mean we don’t share ancestors. Given that his and my Gockeler families are in the same small town, early, and have the same surname, it’s almost assured that we do connect, even if it’s before the preserved records.

His earliest listed Schnait Gockeler ancestor is Johannes, born in 1594:

Clicking on Johannes’ parents shows an earlier Hans born about 1566, during that records gap.

Clicking on his parents shows just the name, Hans.

This Hans would have been born about 1540 or earlier.

That’s the end of the Schnait line, but Wolfram has discovered an earlier Balthasar Gockeler (also Geckeler) in Grunbach, born about 1555. The Grunbach family book is here and the Gockelers in Grunbach, here.

I tracked Wolfram’s line closer in time, and about three generations later, one of Balthasar’s male Gockeler descendants arrived in Grosheppach, across the river from Beutelsbach, and intermarried with the Ellwanger family, also found in Schnait.

Was this perhaps a migration path for the Gockeler family?

Were the Schnait Gockelers related to the Grunbach Gockelers?

Well, where is Grunbach? That would tell us a lot!

AHA – literally just across the river, close to Grossheppach. Yep, these two Gockeler lines are very likely connected in the early 1500s, and earlier.

Y DNA Would Tell the Story

At this point, given that we are back beyond existing church records, the only possible way to definitively solve this mystery would be Y DNA testing of the Gockeler males from both Grunbach and Schnait/Beutelsbach. If any Gockeler male descends from these or nearby lines, please reach out – I’ll provide a DNA testing scholarship.

What Do We Know?

Having gathered as much material as possible, what do we actually know about Wolff Gockeler and his wife, Barbara?

  • Literally, all we know beyond question is that their daughter, Catharina, was born in Beutelsbach in 1612. We can, however, infer a few other things.
  • Wolff would have been at least in his mid-20s and Barbara, at least in her early 20s in 1612 when their daughter was born, putting their births in the mid/late 1680s or earlier. Roughly 1567-1587.
  • Based on Martin Goll’s opinion, extrapolated from later records, that their daughter, Catherina, was from a well-to-do family, Wolff was likely a vintner and/or merchant.
  • Wolff Gockeler and Barbara were probably residents of Beutelsbach in 1612, based on the lack of any indication otherwise in the church records, and that the witnesses to Catharina’s baptism, her Godparents, were Beutelsbach residents.
  • Wolff was probably the Wolfgangius born in Schnait in either 1582 or 1586 to either one of the Lucas Gockelers.
  • Given that the Schnait records do mostly exist for this time period, and the Beutelsbach records mostly do not, it’s likely that Wolff and Barbara had additional children in Beutelsbach.
  • The 30 Years’ War broke out six years after Catharina’s birth in 1612. Wolff and Barbara would have been between 30 and 50.
  • Beutelsbach church records do not exist during that war and don’t begin again until about 1646.
  • We know from the Schnait church records that the plague devastated this region in 1626, and it’s certainly possible that either Wolff or Barbara, or both, died during the plague outbreak.
  • In 1634, 1635, and 1636, the residents of both Beutelsbach and Schnait were literally starving. Many died. We see that evidence in the Schnait church records.
  • In December of 1634, following the Battle of Nordlingen, soldiers plundered and set fire to Beutelsbach, burning the town to the ground and killing anyone who attempted to resist. If Wolff and Barbara were still living, they would have been at least 50 years old, but possibly as old as 70. If Barbara had children into her 40s, who lived, they could have had children as young as 7 or 8.

Photo courtesy cousin Wolfram

If Wolff and Barbara were still living in 1634, were they able to get to the church, up the stairs, through the gate, above, and into the fortified churchyard in time, or were they destined to perish in the fire, or be massacred?

Their daughter, Catharina, married shortly after the fire to Hans Lenz, the Beutelsbach baker (originally from Schnait) who was widowed during the fire. Catharina would have been 22 years old in 1634, prime marriage age – but if her parents had died, that would have certainly encouraged her marriage sooner than later. What was an orphaned 22-year-old female to do?

If Wolff and Barbara witnessed their daughter’s marriage, they would have become immediate step-grandparents to 7-year-old George Lenz, whose mother had perished in the fire.

If Wolff and Barbara died either during the 1626 plague, the 1634 fire or the horrific starving time from at least 1634-1636, Catharina might have been the only child left to inherit her father’s vineyards, which would have explained her and Hans Lenz’s eventual wealth, after the war, when the vineyards slowly began producing again.

Photo courtesy Martin Goll

The grapevines on the hillsides rising above Beutelsbach and Schnait may have been the only things to survive the fire and the devastation of the region. Those grapes may have sustained the population when there was nothing else, nothing left. Wine was then, and is now, a fundamental staple in the lives of the residents of Beutelsbach and Schnait.

Wine is, literally, life.

Perhaps it was from that legacy, those vineyards, left by Wolff and Barbara that Catharina and Hans were able to survive and rise again.

Just as we descend from them, maybe this vineyard descends Wolff and Barbara’s vines that survived 400 years ago.

Their Deaths

We can infer that both Wolff and Barbara died sometime after 1612 and before 1646 when the Beutelsbach church records at least began to be sketchily kept again.

We can also, sadly, infer that Catharina was probably their only surviving child. At least she was their only child that died in Beutelsbach, because there is no further mention of Wolff and Barbara as the parents of anyone who died after the war. Generally, when people died, the minister recorded the identity of their parents. That’s how we know who Catharina’s parents were – her own death record in 1677. Were it not for that minister’s few words, we would never have known that Catharina was a Gockeler, nor who her parents were. I’m incredibly grateful to that long-deceased nameless minister in Beutelsbach.

Catharina herself had only one child that survived, so having no or few descendants certainly wasn’t unusual during that horrific, devastating three-decades-long descend into the fiery pits of Hell. Martin Goll tells us that the population of Schnait fell by one-third and Beutelsbach, by half. This means that the population wasn’t replacing itself, and essentially, every couple that was reproducing, on average, only had one child that survived. That’s incredibly grim when you remember that women often gave birth to a dozen children in their lifetimes.

By the time the 30 Years’ War ended, in 1648, Wolff and Barbara would have been on the north side of 60. Even without a war spanning three decades, successive waves of plagues and epidemics, not to mention the fire and starvation years, odds were against survival beyond 60.

I think we can reasonably infer that, by the end of the war, Wolff and Barbara were no longer with us and that they were likely buried in the Beutelsbach churchyard where Catharina visited them regularly – every time she went to church – or buried another child.

The days in which Wolff and Barbara lived were indeed sorrowful and sorrow-filled times.

Sunset

It looks like our Gockeler line has come to at least a tentative end in Beutelsbach, but maybe, just maybe, there’s still a little more to be distilled. Like fine wine that morphs into brandy.

If I were a betting person, I’d bet that our Wolff is the Wolfgangius born in either 1582 or 1586 to one of the two Lucas Goeckelers in Schnait.

I’d also bet that one of the Lucases is the son of the earlier Hans Gockeler in Schnait.

And, I’d bet that the contemporaneous Balthasar Gockeler line in Grunback is the same Gockeler family, connecting at some point back in time. Who knows which came first, Schnait or Grunbach. We know that Gockelers lived in both villages in the early 1500s. We also find Wolff Gockeler, clearly short for Wolffgangius, in Beutelsbach by 1612.

Those populations intermingled over the decades and centuries.

Harkening Back

The name Wolfgangius harkens back to the Catholic Latin naming conventions, not the more protestant Wolfgang. That’s not surprising.

The century before Wolfgangus’s birth had been violent and divided in the Germanic part of the Holy Roman Empire, both politically and religiously.

Wurttemberg was located dead center in the middle, in yellow.

This region had been a hotbed of conflict for a very long time, most of the 1500s – and our Gockeler family was there to experience it all firsthand.

Poor Conrad’s Peasant Revolt began in Beutelsbach on May 2, 1514, against Ulrich, Duke of Wurttemberg, following crop failures in 1509 and 1513, which caused an increase in taxes to fill the resulting deficit in the noble coffers. However, the peasants had no way of paying. They were desperate, but peasants and serfs had no legal rights and no opportunity to improve their lot in life.

The Duke didn’t care. He just wanted their money at any cost. His opulent lifestyle and resulting debt required funding, no matter the effect on his subjects. It would be safe to say he was intensely disliked.

The resulting uprising took place beneath the hilltop Kappelberg Castle, now in ruins, , but shown below before 1819.

The Duke sent troops into the Rems Valley, hauling some 1700 rebels off to Schorndorf, which only had a population of 3000, where torture, prison, and the beheading of the leaders dampened their spirit and deterred additional resistance, at least for a few years.

Were Gockeler men among the rebels? It’s likely, given the number of people involved and the size of the local villages, but we’ll never know for sure. If villages like Schnait, Beutelsbach, Grunbach, and Grossheppach had maybe 50 houses each, 1700 people would encompass many villages in the region.

Hang on tight, because next came the Reformation, which was the equivalent of lighting a fire under a powder keg.

The Protestant Reformation began in Germany with Martin Luther in 1517, eventually transforming most of Germany from a Catholic to a Protestant state. The Reformation, in turn, inspired the second peasant revolt known as the German Peasant’s War which spread throughout Germany, peaking in 1524 and 1525.

Unfortunately for the peasants, that revolt failed too, and more than 100,000 were slaughtered, or about one-third of the people who took part. Then, noble landowners increased the taxes once again.

It’s no wonder that few records exist from this time. It was in this timeframe that the Protestant church was born. Villages throughout the land saw their Catholic churches forcibly become Protestant.

From the 1530s through the 1560s, Catholic church records, along with the church statues and icons, were destroyed during the Reformation, followed by the church buildings being reconstituted as Protestant.

The recessed piscina, present in every Catholic church wall was used for washing the communion basin, chalice, and to dispose of sacred substances, such as Holy Water and Sacramental Wine.

Those sacred liquids that had become Holy by being blessed by the priest were returned to the Earth by draining inside the church wall to prevent them from being used in sorcery.

Piscinas were retired and sometimes filled in and plastered over, reminders that the church, and her attendees, had once been Catholic.

Parishioners’ faith and rituals changed as well, by edict of the ruling nobles and without consent or agreement of the governed. While many people would have welcomed the new religion, that certainly wouldn’t have been unanimous. It was unquestionably a time of great upheaval, fear, uncertainty, and angst.

It’s likely that Wolff’s grandparents would have told him stories about what happened. They might have been children, and their parents told them about participating in Poor Conrad’s Rebellion. About not being able to pay their taxes. About the people who were taken away and tortured – and about those who dared to speak up and never returned.

How the rebellion melted away because they knew what would happen, otherwise. And how the resentment continued to fester, like an infected boil. The scene was set and the situation primed. All that was needed was someone or something to light the match.

A few years later, probably when Wolff’s grandparents were young, or maybe young adults, they would have heard about a rebel priest named Martin Luther and how he came to reject several of the Roman Catholic teachings, beginning with indulgences – in essence, buying your way out of church-prescribed punishments. Of course, poor peasants couldn’t afford indulgences, either.

Luther believed and began to teach that salvation was not earned by specific deeds or behaviors but received as a gift of God’s Grace through faith – essentially challenging the Pope and his authority. Luther taught that the Bible was the only source of divinely revealed knowledge, not the Pope or any church authority.

Heresy, pure heresy.

Then, in 1517, that priest became even bolder. He authored the Ninety-five Theses and reportedly nailed them to the All Saints’ Church door in Wittenberg for all to see – which sent the church and everyone else into a tizzy!

Of course, the entire countryside would have been talking about Luther and his heretical writings. In these 95 numbered opinions, Luther claimed that the Bible was the central religious authority and the people only reached salvation by their faith, not their deeds. Even more controversial, he outright said that the Pope had no power over Purgatory and indulgences don’t remove guilt.

Was he right? Did people really deserve punishment? If they didn’t deserve church-imposed punishment, then there would be no need to purchase indulgences, right? Could this be true?

Luther was causing people to question their beliefs and the teaching of the Catholic church and to discuss and debate Luther’s bullet points.

Luther’s interpretation changed EVERYTHING. The Catholic church considered Martin Luther a heretic. The populace found hope in his teachings. The Catholic church banned Luther’s teachings and his Ninety-Five Theses – which of course, meant that everyone wanted to hear about them. Forbidding something assures it will be sought.

The farmers, peasants, merchants, and hausfraus would have been chattering like magpies, with word passing at lightning speed through the human grapevine.

Luther’s name was on the lips of every patron in every market and pub in Germany, where, assuredly, every person shared a strongly held opinion and was probably sharing it freely.

In 1521, the Pope excommunicated Luther, but Luther refused to recant his statements and teachings and was ordered to appear before the Diet of Worms, shown in the painting below, where he was, in essence, tried by a tribunal within the church.

For five days, private conferences were held to determine Luther’s fate. The emperor presented the final draft of the Edict of Worms on May 25, 1521, declaring Luther an outlaw, banning his literature, and requiring his arrest: “We want him to be apprehended and punished as a notorious heretic.”  It also made it a crime for anyone in Germany to give Luther food or shelter and permitted anyone to kill Luther without legal consequence.

He was a condemned man – marked for death by the Catholic church.

It was open season on Luther, and one could be confident that his demise was all-but-assured, although they agreed that he could return home safely. Yea, right. Wink, wink.

On his way home, Luther disappeared, kidnapped by masked horsemen dressed as highway robbers. It was a sham, however, and he was taken into the protection of the Wartburg Castle, where he safely began forming the new religion that would soon become the Lutheran faith.

The Reformation movement had begun in earnest. The Diet of Worms had both struck the match and poured gasoline on the fire.

Luther, by then excommunicated, went further and condemned Catholic Mass as idolatry. Priests and nuns could break their vows without sin, because those vows were illegitimate anyway in a vain attempt to win salvation through unwarranted deprivation and an attempt to win favors from God – as prescribed by the Pope and church. Friars began to revolt, as did many in the populace.

Others were equally as strongly opposed to Luther and his teachings, convinced he would spend eternity burning in Hell and eager to send him there sooner rather than later.

Speculation about what Luther was up to, pro or con, would have been the daily discussion in every village marketplace and in hushed whispers, or maybe not so hushed, in every church.

Luther’s willingness to challenge the powerful Catholic church led German peasants, everyday working people, toilers of the soil, like the residents of Beutelsbach and Schnait, to believe that he would support their revolt against the injustices being wrought upon them by the nobility, much like he rejected the authority of the Catholic church. Emboldened once again. the German Peasants’ War began anew in 1524 and quickly spread throughout Germany.

Taking a lead from Luther, the leaders of the peasant troops drafted, printed and circulated their own Twelve Articles that, among other things, demanded that the tithes required by the Catholic church be rescinded.

The Twelve Articles demanded:

  • The right for communities to elect and depose clergymen demanded the utilization of the “great tithe” for public purposes after subtraction of a reasonable pastor’s salary. The “great tithe” was assessed by the Catholic Church against the peasants’ wheat and vine crops, and often amounted to more than 10% of the peasant’s income.
  • The abolition of the “small tithe,” which was assessed against the peasant’s other crops.
  • The abolition of serfdom, death tolls, and the exclusion from fishing and hunting rights; restoration of the forests, pastures, and privileges withdrawn from the community and individual peasants by the nobility
  • A restriction on excessive statute labor, taxes, and rents.
  • An end to arbitrary justice and administration.

The peasants had misjudged Luther. In 1525, Luther condemned the violence and became enraged at the result of his own instigations, especially the sacking of convents and churches. He began to wonder what he had unleashed, but that freight train was already speeding headlong down the tracks.

The 1525 Peasant’s War ended tragically, with many who participated being slaughtered. Luther seemed to take credit for this turn of events, and many in the populace felt utterly betrayed. Crushed. They believed and trusted Luther, sacrificing everything, and found themselves in a spiritual and personal never-never land, a personal purgatory. What were they to think? What were they to do? Should they believe him? Why did this happen?

Luther married a former nun in 1526, and between then and 1529, established a supervisory church body and prescribed a new form of worship, replacing the Catholic rituals. He translated the Bible into German from Latin, finishing in 1534, so the German people could read God’s Word for themselves. They didn’t have to rely on a priest for translation and interpretation. They could have a personal relationship with God, without an intermediary.

The advent of the printing press meant that Martin Luther’s new Bible, along with thousands of pamphlets critical of Catholicism, could be printed in masse, distributed, and read by German citizens.

Everyone would have wanted to see what all the fuss was about, and discuss Luther’s points, probably at great length.

The resulting arguments were probably quite heated.

Wurttemberg became Lutheran in 1534 by ducal edict, just 50 years or so before Wolfgangius Gockeler was born.

The Catholic relics in the Beutelsbach church would have been retired or perhaps confiscated by the Duke for their monetary value, and the records destroyed. The priest was replaced with a Lutheran minister, a Bible written in German along with new teachings and traditions.

Perhaps Wolffgangius held the first German Bible his family owned in his own hands.

Did he read that Bible, interpreting God’s word for himself instead of relying on a language, Latin, that he didn’t understand and interpretation by Catholic priests?

Did he hold his grandfather’s German Bible close, or did he cherish a Latin Bible, perhaps because it had once belonged to a beloved grandfather or great-grandfather? Perhaps a man who had perished during the revolts?

How did the Gockeler family feel about any of this? Were they unified or find themselves deeply divided in their beliefs?

Did some people embrace the new tenets, finding them more in touch with their everyday lives, while others staunchly protected and defended the religion and rites they had always known, fearful of the fires of Hell if they did otherwise?

Beginning in 1534, they had no choice about their public religion, but their own personal convictions couldn’t be controlled by edict.

What stories were repeated from generation to generation around the table, to Wolffgangius, and then to his daughter, Catharina? Wolffgangius knew people, family members, and other village residents, who had experienced all of these events personally.

The fact that we have ANY records from that era is rather amazing. If our Wolfgangius Gockeler was born in the mid-1580s, he was probably only two generations removed from Catholicism – and maybe only one. His grandparents could easily have been and probably were baptized Catholic, and his parents may well have been secretly performing the Catholic rituals, like repeating the Rosary, that brought their parents and grandparents comfort in their time of need.

And there was so much need during this time.

In the Beutelsbach church, maybe the “Hail Mary,” repeated during the Catholic Rosary was replaced with the Lutheran “Jesus Prayer,” but using the same sacred rosary beads, passed down within families for centuries. Maybe the transition wasn’t all-or-nothing, bringing reluctant parishioners along slowly by allowing some retention of the familiar.

Catholicism wasn’t simply a preference, but a deeply held conviction taught from early childhood and reinforced on a nearly daily basis through universally-accepted, oft-repeated community and personal rituals and church services – baptisms, marriages, confessions, funerals, and burials in a prescribed manner. The requisite Seven Sacred Sacraments.

Perhaps Wolfgangius, a Latin name, given at his baptism, was a wink and a nod to the one thing citizens could still control – selecting their child’s name. Perhaps he was named for his grandfather and the men in preceding Gockeler generations. One thing is certain – Wolfgangius was a popular name in the family and likely had been for generations. It was, after all, a saintly name – Saint Wolfgangus was the Bishop of Regensburg, Germany, and canonized in 1052.

Photo courtesy Sharon Hockensmith

Family members could sit in the beautiful collegiate church in Beutelsbach, close their eyes, and harken back to the time when the Catholic priest was baptizing the newborn babies, speaking Latin, instead of the Lutheran minister. I couldn’t help but notice the month names in the earliest Beutelsbach and Schnait Lutheran church books in the 1560s and 1570s were still written in Latin – so perhaps the Lutheran minister sometimes spoke in Latin as well.

There is comfort in age-old rituals that sustained our ancestors. Old habits die hard.

Indeed, I can hear the minister’s voice echo in the stone church where so many baptizers’ voices had echoed since the Beutelsbach church was built in the 1200s. The Holy Water and Catholic Priests may have been gone, but the baptismal font and the intentions weren’t.

Salvation is salvation – in whatever language.

“I baptize thee, Wolfgangius Gockeler, in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost.”

Amen.

_____________________________________________________________

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Katharina Gockeler (1612-1677), One Child Survived – 52 Ancestors #369

Catharina or Katharina Gockeler was born in Schnait, Germany on October 9, 1612, to Hans Gockeler and his wife, Katharina, whose surname is unknown.

(Update – her parents were Wolff Gockeler and wife, Barbara, not Hans and Katherina. See the Wolff Gockeler article.)

For some time, Katharina’s surname was recorded as Lenz. She did marry a Lenz man, but in a small German village, it certainly wouldn’t be unheard of for the bride’s surname to be the same since families had resided in that area for generations. Martin Goll, the local historian, discovered that her surname was Gockeler, not Lenz, and provided me with updated information. A HUGE thank you to Martin for this and all of his other research which he has generously shared.

Katharina’s Childhood

Photo courtesy of cousin Wolfram.

Katharina’s parents and godparents stood beside the minister at the baptismal font before the alter in St. Wendelin Church as baby Katharina was baptized.

Hans Lenz, the baker, would have been attending church that day too. He lived where the red star is located, just a few feet away, across the market square from the church in Schnait.

Hans Lenz had a son, also named Hans Lenz, who was born on January 24, 1602. Hans the younger would have been ten years old at the time and was likely attending church with his parents. During Katharina’s baptism, he was probably squirming and fidgeting in that hard wooden pew, the way 10-year-old boys do, not very patiently waiting for church to be over.

I wonder if Hans remembered being present at Katharina‘s baptism. If Hans was a normal boy, he was probably either annoyed at having to stay late for the baptism, or distracted by a bug, leaf, or some such. However, 23 years later, Hans Lenz would marry that baby girl.

A lot would happen during that 23 years, though.

Schnait

Schnait, shown here in 1685, was a beautiful, quaint, village, nestled between hills, just a block or two in either direction.

Most residents were vinedressers, tending the vineyards on the rolling hillsides outside town, except for the obligatory butcher, baker, and candlestick maker in every village, plus the minister, of course.

The Gockelers had family in neighboring Beutelsbach, as did most families in Schnait, according to early records. Prior to 1570, Schnait was too small to have its own church, so the families in Schnait worshipped in Beutelsbach and were quite intertwined.

The War Begins

In 1618, the 30 Years‘ War changed everyone‘s life – causing terror for the next three decades. Nothing would ever be the same.

Of course, when the war began, no one knew how long it would last, or if Schnait and this part of Germany would be directly involved.

Katherina would have been six years old. Perhaps her parents tried, at least at first, to shield her from what was going on so she wouldn’t be afraid. Soon enough, though, everyone knew. And everyone was afraid.

Unfortunately, the war came to their doorstep and barged into their homes as an unwelcome guest. Catholic and Protestant Princes faced off against one another, their armies battling for decades on German soil. Wurttemberg was a central battlefield of the war, with its population declining by 57% during that time.

Starvation, illness, displacement, and the actual war itself, of course – all took a terrible toll.

The Plague

In 1626, a plague swept through the region, fueled by military conditions, battles, troop movements, and the behavior of the soldiers. Plague and illness were rampant in the camps, and the soldiers moved from place to place, marching across the countryside, again and again.

Celebrations and rituals of normalcy would have been most welcome.

Daydreaming

It’s likely that, a few years later, Katharina attended the wedding of Hans Lenz the younger when he married the Schnait church minister’s daughter, Agnes Eyb, about 1627. The girls certainly knew each other, even though Agnes was older than Katharina by 11 years. Perhaps Katharina looked up to Agnes as the Reverend’s daughter. They had known each other all of their lives and may have been related in one way or another, or many.

At 13, Katharina may have sat during weddings imagining herself as the beautiful blushing bride, one day marrying the love of her life.

God willing, and the war didn’t interfere, one day, it would be her turn.

The war, and thoughts of the war, permeated everything. Even a young girl’s daydreams.

That damned war.

Beutelsbach

Hans Lenz, the baker, and his bride settled up the road in Beutelsbach, while Katherina continued to live in Schnait with her parents.

Infant mortality hovered around 50% during normal times when a war was not taking place, but lack of food, marauding soldiers, pillaging, burning, and the destruction of homes and sometimes entire villages caused the infant mortality rate to rise steeply.

The war dragged on, with soldiers coming and going, taking whatever they wanted, and laying waste to wide swaths of the countryside. Everyone was in danger, all of the time, no matter which side the soldiers were on.

Pressure began to build leading up to the horrific Battle of Nordlingen, arguably the most important battle of the war, fought in September of 1634 not far from Beutelsbach, involving 58,000 soldiers.

Someplace between 12,000 and 16,000 were killed, mostly Protestants, with another 4,000 Protestant soldiers taken captive. How does anyone even begin to bury that many bodies?

The Protestant troops lost that battle, soundly beaten, routed, defeated, making the situation infinitely worse for the German Protestant towns, now occupied by angry, emboldened Catholic soldiers in direct, daily conflict with villagers.

What could possibly go wrong in that pressure-cooker?

By 1634, soldiers were quartered in Beutelsbach. After the Battle of Nordlingen, citizens and village authorities alike were reduced to either begging or bribing soldiers NOT to burn their homes – meaning that in most cases, the pitiful residents had literally nothing of any value left, and no food. Soldiers on both sides took everything.

Until that time, because Hans was a baker and vintner, his property was probably spared because the soldiers enjoyed eating and drinking. Armies run on their stomachs. In other words, Hans was useful to them, but after Nordlingen, that wouldn’t matter anymore.

Fire!

On December 6, 1634, three months after Nordlingen fell, the anger boiled over, and their greatest fear was realized.

Beutelsbach was torched by the soldiers. Anyone who resisted was brutally killed.

Katharina would have watched from Schnait, a mile or so away, as flames rose up and licked the sky. Black smoke billowed over the landscape, for hours, and pretty much everything, save the walled and fortified church, was consumed.

Residents in both locations were cousins probably hundreds of ways. In other words, there wasn’t anyone you weren’t related to, and often, closely.

There was nothing they could do in Schnait while Beutelsbach burned, except to gather as safely as possible, probably in the church, pray, and prepare to shelter any survivors.

God, let there be survivors.

The Schnait minister’s sister was Hans Lenz’s wife, Agnes, living in Beutelsbach.

Agnes was severely burned and was brought to her brother’s home in Schnait. Three days, later, on November 9th, she died and was buried in the Schnait churchyard the following day after her brother preached her funeral. Her brother scribed an agonizing entry in the church “Book of the Dead“ about his “dear sister“ who was burned in the great fire set by the soldiers. His grief-stricken entry is how we know what happened, and when Beutelsbach burned.

Agnes left behind her husband, Hans, and probably young children, if any survived.

Agnes and Hans had been married about seven years, so she would have given birth to at least 3 or 4 children in Beutelsbach, where they lived, although Beutelsbach church records don’t exist for this timeframe.

It’s likely that Hans and Agnes’s children either died as babies, children, or during that horrific fire.

It’s also possible that one of their children outlived Agnes. Martin Goll believes that Georg Lenz (1627-1663), who became a barber-surgeon in Beutelsbach was their child.

If that’s the case, then when Katharina Gockler married the widower, Hans Lenz, sometime about 1635, she would have raised her friend, Agnes’s child or perhaps children as well.

Katharina Marries Hans

As Katharina sat in the church watching Hans and Agnes exchange wedding vows when she was 13 years old, never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined for one minute that SHE would one day marry Hans.

In fact, if Katharina were dreaming about someone as her eventual groom, it would have been some cute boy closer to her age, sitting a pew or two over, thinking about frogs, not a man a decade older at 23.

Yet, it would come to be. Rising from the ashes.

A few months after the fire, sometime about 1635, Katharina Gockler married the widower, Hans Lenz. Again, we have no church records.

Given the circumstances when they began their married life, they did surprisingly well. The war was in its 17th year, give or take, and must have seemed “normal” in a terrible way. They had known nothing else as adults, and war had been a fact of life for most of Katharina’s lifetime – since she was six years old.

Katharina moved to Beutelsbach, where Hans was the baker and vintner, and, as a team, they started over.

Martin believes that a good portion of Hans Lenz‘s wealth came in some way from his wife, Katherina. During his lifetime, Hans built a new house at Siftstrasse 17, pictured above, which still stands today. Additionally, he had at least eight vineyards with just under one hectare, or about 2.5 acres. Most families made do with about one-tenth of that, or a quarter-acre vineyard.

Children

We know that Katharina had four children, based on either records after the war or their church death records as adults, where her name is spelled both Catharina and Katharina. We have no records of children who were born and died during the war, except inferences by silent, vacant spaces in the too-large gap years between births of known children, all of whom were born and died in Beutelsbach. If they died elsewhere after the war, we have no record of them.

  • If Hans and Katherina were married about 1635, they would have had about five children, every 18 months to two years, before having the first child who lived. How soul-crushing for Katharina. I wonder if she dreaded each pregnancy, fearing the death of yet another baby.

Finally, finally, a son was born and survived. Katharina must have been ecstatic and held her breath daily, praying for the best, but fearing the worst.

  • Hans Lenz, my ancestor, also a baker who became a vintner, was born in 1645, during the war, and died on January 22, 1725. He married Barbara Sing in 1669 in Beutelsbach and had 11 children, 6 of which survived to adulthood. Barbara was living for the births of her first six grandchildren, which must have brought her immense joy.
  • Daughter, Katharina Lenz was born on October 26, 1646, and died on October 13, 1689, outliving her mother. She was described as “simple“ in the church records. After her parents’ deaths, she lived with her brother, Hans, who utilized her share of their inheritance to care for her.
  • Another child would have been born in 1648, the year the war finally ended.
  • Maria Lenz was born on January 5, 1650, and died a week later. Another small wooden cross in the churchyard.
  • Another child was probably born in 1652.
  • A daughter, born on March 9, 1654, was also named Maria. She died in 1677 at the age of 23. Martin Goll found no spouse or children for her.

By 1654, Katharina would have been 42. Her childbearing years were over.

Only one of her children would live to reproduce. Lucky for me!

After the War

After the war ended in 1648, Katharina and Hans did quite well for themselves. By the time Hans died 19 years later, in 1667, he had accumulated a significant legacy to leave to his children and grandchildren – a total of 5 houses, ten vineyards, and over 15,000 liters of wine in his cellars. No, that’s not a typo.

Katharina died in Beutelsbach on October 25, 1677, outliving Hans by two months shy of a decade.

Given that her daughter, Maria, died in the same year, although we don’t have a date, I wonder if the plague or pestilence, as epidemics were then known, savaged Beutelsbach once again. Katharina’s granddaughter was born on July 27, 1677, and we have no further entry. I wonder if she died as well. Two additional grandchildren, ages 6 and 7, died two days apart in July of 1678.

This war was with an unseen organism, a germ of some description. One they couldn’t see and probably didn’t know how to fight.

Final Rest

Katharina would have been laid to rest just a few feet from their home in Beutelsbach, probably in the churchyard following her funeral service inside, near her husband and children. Hopefully, it was a beautiful fall day.

Early graves always surrounded the church, but this 1825 map shows that a second cemetery was in use by then, a block or so away from the church and where Katharina Gockeler lived for more than 40 years.

The Beutelsbach church cemetery had been in use since at least 1321 and probably since about 1080, when we know the collegiate church was formed. Given the early date, many regular and plague burials existed in the churchyard. Were graves being reused in Europe at that time, or would villagers have been unwilling or superstitious about digging up plague or smallpox victims, perhaps?

Was the new cemetery utilized because the old one was full, or maybe there were just too many people to bury at one time at some point – like possibly the 1634 fire?

Red stars mark the churchyard, the home where Hans and Katharina lived, and the cemetery. Martin Goll’s red border shows the properties owned by Hans Lenz at his death that were inherited by his son, Hans.

The individual “farms“ and garden plots adjacent to homes are marked with tiny trees, so it’s easy to miss the subtle crosses in the cemetery if you don’t look closely. It appears that today, the cemetery is expanded as needed where those trees used to stand.

As you can see on the map above, the cemetery on the 1825 map is still in use. It’s unknown exactly where Katharina rests, in that cemetery or the churchyard, but we‘re within a few feet, either way.

I can’t help but look at those two burial locations, and in my mind’s eye, view bits of my DNA dotting the landscape, like twinkling stars, if the DNA of those ancestors that I carry today could fluoresce.

Part of me is there with them, and I carry part of them in me today.

_____________________________________________________________

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Barbara Eckhardt (1614-1684), US President’s 10th Great-Grandmother – 52 Ancestors #368

Barbara Eckhardt was born about 1614 in the quaint winemaking village of Beutelsbach, Germany to Johannes Eckhardt and Elisabetha Baurencontz.

Barbara was the fifth child born to her parents, but only the second one to live. Her older sister, Anna Maria, born in 1611, was three years old when Barbara was born. Those two girls must have been quite close, given their proximity in age and that they were the only two daughters that survived.

I suspect that a child was born between those two girls, and went to rest in the churchyard, within the protective walls, where no gravestones remain today.

In 1615, another child was born to Barbara’s parents, and died, buried in the churchyard where generations of family members rested.

In 1618, the 30 Years’ War, a religious conflict between Catholic and Protestant states in the Holy Roman Empire erupted in Prague and spread like wildfire, with Germany bearing the brunt of the devastation during the next three decades. Three decades – that’s an entire generation. Before it was over, 8 million would perish in brutal warfare and its aftermath. Some parts of Germany were entirely depopulated.

Barbara’s mother had another baby in 1618. Nothing more is known of that child, but we can well imagine his fate.

In 1619 and 1622, two more children joined the family, and miraculously, survived. I suspect that another child was born in 1620, but after the war began, the church records were destroyed, and the only way we know about survivors was if they later died in Beutelsbach, after the end of the war. Records partially resumed in 1646.

Barbara’s schooling was assuredly disrupted, if she had any education at all, given that soldiers on both sides were pillaging and robbing all of the villages in this part of Germany. Barbara would have been unable to read or write.

In 1626, after the Battle of Nordlingen, a resounding defeat for the Protestants, soldiers garrisoned in Beutelsbach, where they remained for years, taking whatever they wanted. As bad as things were, they got even worse in 1634.

FIRE!!!

By 1634, the war had been raging for 16 long years, and the soldiers had been quartered in Beutelsbach for 8 years. Barbara would have been 20 years old on that cold, tragic day, in the late fall or early winter.

Beuteslbach town elders had been bribing the soldiers not to burn their village, but for some reason, that was no longer effective. Maybe the soldiers wanted more money than existed or could be raised. Maybe someone was angry. Tensions were constantly high, like a wire stretched taut, and nerves were ragged, so who knows what snapped.

The soldiers burned Beutelsbach, killing anyone who resisted. We don’t know if every home in Beutelsbach burned, or just most of them. We know the church was spared, but again, the church was fortified behind a wall.

People died, although with only a few exceptions, such as Agnes Eyb, wife of Hans Lenz, we don’t know exactly who died that day. Beutelsbach church records don’t exist from this time period.

As the flames began consuming the village, Barbara would have smelled smoke. Soon, blood-curdling screams would have been audible everyplace in town – agonizing screams as people and animals burned and were murdered.

Sheer terror.

Barbara would have heard the roar of the fire and homes collapsing, all around her.

Thoughts raced through her mind, like a mad scramble.

What should she do?

Resist?

The soldiers were killing anyone who resisted.

Try to assist the injured?

Could they be helped?

For God’s sake, they are family members.

Barbara had known everyone in the village for her entire life.

Or should she run?

Where would she go?

Was anyplace safe?

Could anything be saved?

OMG where’s my mother, brother, grandmother…

The residents must have wondered why God had foresaken them.

Barbara, along with her parents and older sister, Anna, probably rushed with their two younger siblings, Johannes Eckhardt, 15, and Cyriakus (Ceyer) Eckhardt, 12, from wherever they lived, racing up the church steps through the gate into the fortified churchyard and on into the church itself.

The doors slammed shut and were bolted.

If necessary, Beutelsbach citizens who made it that far would defend the church together, the last stand, or all die together trying.

They would have been protected, at least to some extent, from the soldiers who were slaughtering anyone who resisted, but they would have heard the carnage around them.

Was that someone’s voice they recognized?

They would have begged for God’s intercession – for him to save them, their family members, and their village. They would have bargained their life in exchange for someone else’s who was missing – not among them in the church.

Prayers and beseeching God for a miracle lasted for hours as the village burned.

Finally, the horror of the fire and wailing outside the church would subside to a whimper, then an eerie silence.

It was over, but was anything left? Whoever wasn’t in the church was probably dead or horribly injured.

They emerged to witness a nightmare scenario.

Could they even have funerals, or was a mass grave dug and hasty prayers said under the mocking eyes of the “victorious” soldiers?

We don’t know what happened in the aftermath of the fire. The residents would have had to find shelter someplace. Many, shellshocked, would have walked to a nearby village where they had relatives.

What else could they have done?

We do know, thanks to historian Martin Goll, that the number of Beutelsbach residents declined by about 50% during the war instead of growing as would normally have been expected. It was even worse elsewhere.

Martin reports that the Plague followed the fire, and people starved.

Yet, love somehow blossomed.

Wedding Bells

A war might be raging, and the village burned, but love found a way.

In 1636, Barbara Eckhardt would marry the butcher, Hans Sang (Sing) who lived up the road a mile or so, in the next village, Endersbach.

Barbara’s family may have sought shelter there after the fire, which would have allowed the young people daily proximity to each other to court.

Perhaps Hans helped Barbara’s family, or maybe her family even sought refuge with his. Regardless, they assuredly would have seen each other in church.

Barbara Eckhardt and Hans Sang, after saying their vows, settled in Beutelsbach. It’s likely that Beuelsbach needed a butcher after the fire.

Barbara and Hans set up housekeeping in the house adjoining the steps into the churchyard. They probably built this home, shown with the small red arrow in the drawing, below, literally on the ashes of whatever was there before. Perhaps it was where her parents had lived before the fire.

In this Beutelsbach drawing from 1760, 130 years later, you can see the circular church gate into the churchyard, and the adjacent building where Barbara lived with her family.

Family

Barbara had 7 children, well, that’s 7 that we know of. There are a lot of gaps between the children we know about that assuredly equate to children who died.

Barbara’s first child was probably born about 1637, following her 1636 marriage, and could have been Hans.

  • Hans Sing was noted in the church record as a “simpleton, with weak intellect, but he can repeat prayers.” He died in 1687 in Beutelsbach, which is how we know he existed at all.
  • Michael Sing was born in 1639 in Beutelsbach, married Anna Maria Schilling, and died on March 7, 1725, also in Beutelsbach. He was a butcher, like his father, as was his only surviving son, Johann Georg Sing.
  • Hans Georg Sing was born in 1640 in Beutelsbach, married Margaretha Ziegler in 1665, and died on January 21, 1676, in Grosheppach. He, too, was a butcher.
  • At least two children would have been born, likely in 1642 and 1644.
  • Barbara Sing, my ancestor, was born in 1645 in Endersbach, married Hans Lenz, a vintner, and baker, and died on July 10, 1686, in Beutelsbach. The fact that Barbara was born in Endersbach causes me to wonder if the family had to shelter again outside of Beutelsbach.
  • Another child was probably born, and died, in 1647
  • Anna Sing, also my ancestor, was born on March 6, 1648, in Beutelsbach, married Bartholomaus Kraft in 1666, and died on March 6, 1728, in Beutelsbach of a stroke.

In October 1648, the 30 Years’ War finally ended. For the first time in her life, Barbara was finally able to relax. She didn’t have to constantly be on alert for the smell of smoke, meaning that the town was burning again.

  • Her next child was probably born in 1650.
  • Martin Sing was born on May 15, 1652, in Beutelsbach and died early.
  • Another child was probably born in 1654.
  • Jakob Sing was born on April 30, 1655, in Beutelsbach and died there on July 17, 1713. Martin found no records of a spouse, nor of any children. Jakob would have been born when his mother was 41 years old, so it’s possible that he too suffered from a disability.

Plague

From 1682-1684, the Plague once again swept through Europe. Barbara, “hausfrau of Hans Singen,” died on April 7, 1684, followed by her husband, Hans, eleven days later, on April 18th.

An incredibly sad time for her family, many of whom were probably ill themselves.

At Barbara’s death, she had five living children and 12 known grandchildren, although there were likely more, specifically by the son who settled in Grossheppach, or other children who may have moved away.

Barbara’s Presidential Legacy

There was one child, though, that would secure Barbara’s place in history, and no, it wasn’t one of her sons.

  • Daughter Anna Sing (1648-1728) married Bartholomaus Krafft (1643-1713.)
  • Their son Johann Georg Krafft (1767-1724) married Anna Catharina Ritter (1673-1701.)
  • Their daughter Maria Margaretha Krafft (1700-1747) married Johann Martin Wolflin (1690-1745.)

These couples, above, are also my ancestors. I’m doubly descended from Barbara through both of her daughters, so Anna Sing is my ancestor too.

However, my ancestor, Johann Ludwig Wolflin is Johann Conrad Wolflin’s brother, so our common lineage bifurcates here.

The Presidential line continues:

  • Johann Conrad Wolflin (1729-1794) was born in Besigheim, Germany, immigrated in 1750, and died in Middletown, Dauphin Co., PA, where his surname was spelled variously, including Woelfle and Wolfle, then became Anglicized to Wolfley, which is how it must have sounded. He married Anna Catherine Shockey (1783-1803) in Pennsylvania and served in the Revolutionary War with his sons John and Jacob.
  • Their son Ludwig Wolfley (1766-1822) married Anna Maria Toot (1786-1841.)
  • Their son George Wolfley (1807-1879) married Nancy Perry (1812-1894.)
  • Their son Robert Wolfley (1834-1895) married Rachel Abbott (1835-1911.)
  • Their daughter Della L. Wolfley (1863-1906) married Charles Thomas Payne (1861-1940.)
  • Their son Rolla Charles Payne (1892-1968) married Leona B. McCurry (1897-1968.)
  • Their daughter Madelyn Lee Payne (1922-2008) married Stanley Armour Dunham (1918-1992.)
  • Ann Dunham (1942-1995) married Barack Obama I (1935-1982.)

Their son, Barack Hussein Obama II, became the 44th President of the United States and served two terms, from January 2009 through January 2017.

I’m incredibly grateful to Martin Goll for his research and paper (in German) on President Obama’s line in Beutelsbach, and for connecting the dots to his immigrant ancestor. I benefitted immensely, given that this is my lineage too.

You can view President Obama’s detailed genealogy, here.

Of course, this means that Barack Obama is my cousin, and we share multiple ancestral lines.

After signing in, using WikiTree’s Relationship tool, above, I determined that Barack and I are 7C1R.

All of my Lentz Cousins are related to President Obama as well. So are all of my closer cousins who descend from Margaret Elisabeth Lentz, who married John David Miller, whose daughter Evaline Miller married Hiram Ferverda, and gave birth to my grandfather, John Whitney Ferverda.

This pedigree chart shows my Lentz line back to Jacob Lentz, who married Fredericka Ruhle, the immigrants in our line, from whom my American Lentz cousins descend. Johanna Fredericka Ruhle, shipwrecked on the way to the US in 1818/1819, was the granddaughter of Johann Ludwig Wolflin whose brother immigrated to Pennsylvania in 1750 and established Barack Obama’s line.

How cool is this! Barbara Eckhardt’s legacy, and indeed that of many Beutelsbach families (and ancestors,) is American President Barack Obama.

_____________________________________________________________

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Hans Sang (1614-1684); Survived the 30 Years’ War, But Not the Plague – 52 Ancestors #367

Hans Sang (Sing) was born in 1614 in Endersbach to Johannes Sang and Anna Enssle.

He was assuredly baptized in the former Collegiate Church, which still stands. The tower was constructed in 1729.

Hans would never have remembered a childhood without warfare.

In 1618, when Hans was only four years old, the Thirty Years’ War erupted, devastating this part of Germany. More than two-thirds of the residents perished, succumbing to warfare, starvation, plague, and other opportunistic diseases like dysentery and cholera.

Hans, however, was one of the lucky survivors.

Hans would one day become a butcher, which means he had to apprentice with someone. We don’t know his father’s occupation, which could have been a butcher as well.

We don’t know when Hans’ parents died, according to this genealogy based on church and civil documents, but based on the fact that his last known sibling was born in 1625, it would appear that both of his parents were living for at least the first 11 years of Hans’s life.

Records from that time are scarce to non-existent. What the soldiers didn’t burn, they destroyed or stole. It’s a miracle that the church itself wasn’t burned. The rest of the town may have been. For all we know, the minister may have died or been killed, with no replacement. In other words, there may have been no one to record anything.

The war raged around Hans. Perhaps the fact that he was a butcher’s apprentice saved him. Armies had to eat.

In 1634, Hans would have been 20 years old. In German culture, not quite of age to marry, but living in a warzone would have changed the norms of the day.

Endersbach, with her church marked by a red star in the center of town, above, was a mile or so down the road from Beutelsbach, her center marked with a red pin.

In fact, the families of the two towns intermingled regularly and had likely been related for centuries. Endersbach is first found in records in 1278 as Andrespach, so had been in existence for hundreds of years, as had Beutelsbach – both settlements along the Rems River.

Soldiers had been quartering in Beutelsbach for some time, and probably in Endersbach too. Pillaging was a given, but town elders, as well as the citizens, paid the soldiers as much as they could come up with to protect the town from burning.

Apparently, the payment either wasn’t enough, or something else happened, because in the late fall or early winter of 1634, neighboring Beutelsbach burned to the ground. The church was fortified, so it’s certainly possible that at least some of the residents took shelter within the church walls, inside the church, which held.

Would Endersbach burn too?

Did Endersbach burn?

The Endersbach church was also a walled church, built between 1468 and 1491 with the intention that the residents would all shelter within the church that could be much more easily defended than individual homes, clustered in the village. Homes also served as farms, with a barn, livestock and fields stretching out directly behind the house. Houses abutted each other for protection.

Fortified churches were built as defensive structures and incorporated military features, such as thick walls, battlements, and embrasures probably initially constructed to withstand the Ottoman invasions of the 1400s and 1500s.

By Silesia711 – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=62263490

You can see portions of the remaining Endersbach church wall in this contemporary photo.

When Beutelsbach burned, the Endersbach residents likely filled their leather fire buckets with water, shown below, gathered their families, and quickly ran to the church.

Probably a lot of praying occurred that day, not just for their own protection, but for their neighbors and relatives whose homes they could see burning in the distance as thick, acrid smoke drifted over the vineyards on its way to Endersbach.

There was never any doubt who was in charge during a war.

Following the torching of Beutelsbach, the local residents would have had to take up residence someplace else, at least for a while. Some probably sheltered with family and friends in Endersbach.

Heartache and disease accompanied them, with unsanitary conditions causing illness and death among those who didn’t burn or die defending their homes.

Perhaps that’s when Hans Sang or Sing took a shine to Barbara Eckhardt whose family was from Beutelsbach. Did her family seek refuge in Endersbach?

Hans and Barbara married sometime in 1636, in Beutelsbach, where Hans became a citizen.

Two years after that devastating fire, I’m sure Beutelsbach was still trying to recover and rebuild – still in the midst of a war. Regardless of everything else, life had to go on in some way. People still married, began families, and shepherded the next generation into the world.

We don’t know if every house burned, but we do know that Beutelsbach lost about 50% of its residents, perhaps more.

If the local butcher was one of those who perished or was burned out, Beutelsbach would have encouraged Hans, the butcher’s apprentice from neighboring Endersbach, to take up residence. Of course, Barbara’s attention would have sweetened that deal and made Beutelsbach look very attractive to Hans – a win-win for everyone.

Even though Beutelsbach church records weren’t kept again until after 1646, we do know something about Hans and Barbara’s children who survived and remained in Beutelsbach. Their death records often give an age, therefore revealing at least the year they were born.

After their marriage, life became at least somewhat normal, as normal as life can be during a war that has lasted your entire lifetime. Children were born, and some died. Everyone went to church on Sundays. Birthdays accumulated. Christmas was celebrated, and candles lit the church beautifully.

Hans did quite well for himself as the Beutelsbach butcher. His home and butcher shop was right at the base of Beutelsbach’s fortified church wall at Marktplatz 8.

The seam in the roof, just to the right of the red car, divides Marktpfalz 8, at left, from Marketpfalz 10. As you can see, it’s actually a small residence, snugged up against the church wall on one side.

Hans and Barbara lived in the last house before the church, or the first house when leaving the church. It was easy to pick up meat on the way past.

All homes were clustered in the center of town, their barns and field stretching out behind, as you can see on this 1832 Beutelsbach map. Vineyards, tended by the citizens, were located on the hillsides.

Unfortunately, in 1832, Marktpfalz 8 no longer existed, unless the numbering has shifted. The space is vacant on the map, so has apparently been rebuilt. It appears that the neighboring property, Marktpfalz 10, remains the same with a recognizable footprint.

However, it’s probably not the marketing and retail opportunity that made this location so desirable to Hans.

If Beutelsbach was to be attacked or burn again, all Hans and Barbara needed to do was grab their kids and literally run outside their front door and up the steps to be inside the wall.

Attribution by qwesy qwesy. You can see the number 8 on the grey door.

No one was closer to safety. We don’t know how many times they sheltered in the safety of the church, but we can say with certainty that they did during the first dozen years of their marriage as the war continued, day in and day out, swirling around them.

No wonder Hans and his bride set up housekeeping in Beutelsbach. Opportunity among chaos.

When the 30 Years’ War finally ended in 1648, Hans was 39 or 40 years old. He would have seen literally generations of soldiers marching through both Endersbach and Beutelsbach, up and down the roads, pillaging as they went. It didn’t matter which “side” the soldiers represented; no one was safe. Fear and running for safety was the only life Hans had ever known. The war was finally, finally, over.

I can only imagine the celebrations throughout Germany.

This print from Nuremberg shows a fireworks display celebrating the end of the war.

Martin Goll, a historian, and descendant who lives in Beutelsbach today, tells us that by the time Hans died, on April 18, 1684, he was a wealthy man, at least compared to other Beutelsbach residents.

Hans Sang or Sing had defied the odds. He lived through a brutal war that lasted three decades and took two-thirds of the people living in this part of Germany. He managed to not hurt himself badly enough as a butcher to perish of infection, didn’t starve to death, evaded or survived the plague, dysentery, and typhoid, well, right up until he didn’t.

Against incredible odds, Hans lived to be 70 years old – and then, and then – he died from the Plague. He wasn’t alone. Eleven days earlier, his wife, Barbara, died as well.

Ironically, this would be the Plague’s last stand in most of Europe for many years before it would rear its ugly head again.

I’d wager that many people in Beutelsbach died in the days and weeks surrounding Hans and Barbara’s deaths. Many more were probably quite ill, but recovered.

Did the minister survive? If so, was he well enough to perform funerals? Were the dead buried, then the funerals following at a later time?

Were Hans and Barbara’s funerals combined?

I’d love to hear what the minister had to say at Hans’s funeral before he was buried in the churchyard, inside the wall, just a few feet from his modest home that he shared with Barbara for nearly half a century. Surely, they were buried side by side, Hans joining Barbara a few days after she departed this life.

Those early graves aren’t marked in the churchyard today. We simply know that they are there, silent sentries to ensuing generations.

But wait, that’s not the end of Hans’ story – there’s more. There is something else that would cement Hans Sing’s place in history – just not in his lifetime. Hans never knew about this, because it hadn’t happened yet.

Hans Sing is the ancestor of a United States President. And yes, that means that President is my cousin.

I’ll tell you “the rest of the story” when I write about his wife, Barbara Eckhardt.

_____________________________________________________________

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Hans Lenz (1602-1667), Baker and Vintner During the Thirty Years’ War – 52 Ancestors #366

Hans Lenz was born on January 24, 1602 in the small village of Schnait, (Weinstadt) Germany to Johannes Lenz and Margarethe Vetterle.

Schait was a small village alongside the Rems River, nestled between hillside vineyards with a central church built about 1570, and maybe 40 houses. This drawing from 1685 in Andreas Kieser’s forest register book shows Schnait, with the Protestant church as its heart.

While Schnait looks peaceful and idyllic, a lot transpired in the years between 1602 and 1685.

Truthfully, Hans was lucky to have been born at all. In 1595, the plague swept through the region. Had either of his parents perished, Hans would never have existed.

Plague and warfare were a constant threat, not to mention dysentery and various illnesses that swept half the children away from their parents, and that’s in good times.

Hans was the firstborn child of his parents, arriving the year after their marriage. He probably had several siblings, but we don’t know who they were.

We know little about Schnait in the years between 1602 and 1618, but it’s likely that Hans was confirmed in the church when he was 12 or 13 years old, in about 1614 or 1615.

The minister who confirmed Hans was probably his future father-in-law.

In 1618, the 30 Years’ War began, which was both dynastic and religious, and would devastate Germany over the next three decades.

By Straty_ludnościowe_po_wojnie_30letniej.PNG: Mix321derivative work: Schoolinf3456 – This file was derived from: Straty ludnościowe po wojnie 30letniej.PNG:, GFDL, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=18755096

This region, marked with a red star on the 30 Years’ War Depopulation map above, saw massive declines in population. All locations in this part of Germany saw population reductions greater than 66%. Some villages were entirely burned and abandoned, their residents murdered.

It’s difficult to refer to anyone who lived in Germany during this time as fortunate, but comparatively, Hans Lenz was.

Hans Lenz was a baker.

Schnait was not burned to the ground during the war, so it’s possible that the “old bake house,” shown below, is the original baker’s home.

Historical bakery in “Haldenstraße 7” By Silesia711 – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=67028703

The baker was only located just a few steps from the church at Haldenstrasse 7. Perhaps people stopped and picked up baked goods on their way to and from church.

A village only needed one baker, and a baker’s oven would have been very specialized and expensive to construct. This was most likely where Hans either lived or apprenticed.

Generally, sons apprenticed with their father and stepped into their professions as adults. Of course, given the surrounding vineyards, everyone was involved in the wine culture.

What goes better with wine than bread!

Today, vineyards growing specialty grapes still surround Schnait which remains a small village. This satellite image only shows a total of about 2-3 miles across. The ancient vineyards follow the contours of the hillsides.

As an adult, Hans Lenz relocated to Beutelsbach, just a mile or so to the north. Perhaps they needed a baker. Those two villages were very closely associated.

Prior to 1570, Schnait was too small to have its own church so all of the Schnait residents attended church in neighboring Beutelsbach, just a short walk up the road.

Historian Martin Goll lives in Beutelsbach and also descends from the Lenz family. His primary language is German, and his correspondence is translated into English. I’m extremely grateful for his in-depth research on these families and the history of both villages.

Martin tells us that Hans Lenz “was one of the rich people in this time. He married the daughter of the reverend. Usually, a Reverend belonged to the upper class. It was impossible to marry in[to] such a family, if you have not been a member of an upper class family. So, Hans Lenz must have [had] parents which were coming from the upper class.”

But all was not peaceful in the Rems Valley.

In 1626, when Hans was 24, another epidemic broke out before the Battle of Nordlingen, pictured above, which occurred about 55 miles away on September 6th and was catastrophic for the Protestants.

After the battle, Beutelsbach became an army camp for the fortified town of Schorndorf.

By the time Hans married, in 1627, everyone was probably sick and tired of warfare.

In 1627, Hans was 25 years old and married Agnes Eyb, the daughter of the local reverend in Schnait. They were probably married by her father, or her brother who became the pastor after their father died.

Their only surviving child, George Lenz (1627-1663), was born later that year.

At some point, the young couple moved up the road to Beutelsbach, perhaps shortly after their marriage.

Perhaps the bakery protected the family, at least to some extent, for a little while.

Soldiers routinely raided farms and homesteads, but they might not have been so willing to burn the bakery. Everyone needs to eat.

However, their good fortune did not last.

In 1634, Beutelsbach was plundered and set on fire. Anyone who resisted was killed.

Martin tells us that “Agnes Eyb died during the 30 Years’ War. She left Beutelsbach before she died and went to Schnait, where her brother was the reverend at this time. She died in Schnait three days after she arrived, because she was injured when the house in Beutelsbach was burned.”

At the time Agnes died, her brother, Mathias Jacob Eyb was the pastor in Schnait and writes of his sister’s death in the Book of the Dead, “Young Hans Lenz’s wife, Agnes, died, who had been my dear sister, on December 9, 1634 and then was buried on the 10th.”

War is Hell.

Hans and Agnes had moved to Beutelsbach – and their home burned when the soldiers torched the town. People could probably see Beutelsbach burning for miles in every direction. It would serve as a warning to anyone else who considered resisting.

Unfortunately, we have almost no information about their children, with one exception. Martin reports that “The only son of the pastor’s daughter, George Lenz, becomes a surgeon in Beutelsbach, which was almost an academic degree by the standards of the time.”

Surgeons were the barbers of the day, plus they “bled” people as needed.

Given that Hans and Agnes were married from sometime in 1627 until her death on December 9, 1634, it’s likely that they had either 3 or 4 children. I can’t help but wonder if those children died when the town burned too, or had they already perished? Was Agnes pregnant or did she have a babe in arms when her home was set aflame? Was it burned at night when people were sleeping? Did she make the “mistake” of resisting, or was she simply in the wrong place at the wrong time?

How did Hans survive? Maybe he was gone, or fighting. Or did they, along with other residents, seek shelter inside the church walls?

Who took Agnes to her brother’s in Schnait?

Nearly everyone in Schnait and Beutelsbach was related, probably many times over. They would have watched Beutelsbach burn in horror, wondering if the soldiers would burn Schnait next.

A peasant begs for mercy in front of his burning farm; by the 1630s, being caught in the open by soldiers from either side was tantamount to a death sentence.

After Beutelsbach was plundered and burned, the next challenge was famine and plague, which spread easily because people were hungry and ate anything, down to and including sawdust and acorns, which proved fatal.

I can’t even imagine the level of desperation.

Martin’s research indicates that even with the horrors of war, Beutelsbach and Schnait fared better than most. By 1650, the population of Schnait had only declined by about one-third, and in neighboring Beutelsbach, by about half.

Let that sink in for a minute. They were the lucky ones because “only one-third” and “only half” of the residents perished.

By comparison, about one-third survived in neighboring towns, meaning two-thirds died. Both Schorndorf and Waiblingen were burned completely, with the exception of a few houses that somehow escaped, with a maximum of 20% of the population surviving.

It was a horrific time.

Martin says that there were no Beutelsbach church records that survived between 1620 and 1646, having been stolen or destroyed by the soldiers.

In 1634, when Agnes died of her burns, Hans Lenz would have been left with his surviving small child, who was 6 or 7 years old, to raise, and a bakery to rebuild, but mostly, he had to find a way to simply survive.

Update: The next paragraph is incorrect. Katharina’s birth surname was NOT Lenz. I am leaving the original text in case others find the same erroneous information. I am working with Martin Goll to publish the correct information in Katherina’s own article.

The next year, in 1635, Hans Lenz married Katharina Lenz (Note update – her surname is not Lenz,) also from Schnait.

For the first decade of their marriage, from 1635 to 1645, Hans and Katharina had no children that survived, which might well have been related to the ongoing war.

Martin tells us that Hans had another problem too. His bakery was repeatedly pillaged. It’s unclear whether Hans was able to come up with enough money to prevent his bakery from being burned or if that’s what happened in 1634 when Agnes died. He must have passionately hated the soldiers.

In order to avoid the torch, community assets had to be handed over to soldiers, and if that was not enough, the local authorities had to confiscate tangible private assets.

According to Martin, “In Beutelsbach, the man in charge was the custodian Johann Jakob Schmierer (1593-1660). He demanded this money, violently and brutally if necessary. Apparently, he was also thinking of himself and his own advantage. Because of this, Hans Lenz had trouble with soldiers in the quarters who claimed that Schmierer had sold them wine but had not delivered the amount paid to Lenz. This information shows that Hans was not only a baker but also ran a wine trade. The monastery custodian “ruled” the wine in the monastery cellar. He probably had Hans Lenz as his “negotiator” and got him into trouble by delivering too little, so the soldiers certainly had the upper hand.”

Soldiers always have the upper hand.

The Thirty Years’ War is considered to be the most destructive war in European history. While many civilians didn’t perish in direct warfare, they were by far the most frequent victims, with 4.5 to 8 million deaths, mostly from the effects of the war. Another source places the reduction of the population of the Holy Roman Empire by 7 million people, but that may also include those who left. People died from military action (3%), starvation (12%), bubonic plague (64%), typhus (4%), and dysentery (5%), plus unrecorded causes of death.

Hans would survive to see the end of the Thirty Years’ War, in 1648, and live another 19 years beyond.

Hans would have been 46 years old when the Peace of Westphalia treaties were signed in Munster after weeks of negotiation.

The difference in dress between the nobles who were both the instigators and beneficiaries of the war, and the people living in the countryside is telling.

Here’s the Dutch envoy arriving in Munster for negotiations. Contrast that to the farmer begging for his life and the houses of villagers burning, leaving them with nothing if they survived.

The residents of Schnait and Beutelsbach, along with the rest of Germany, must have rejoiced as soon as the word reached their ears. The horror was finally over. Hans had lived his entire adult life either amidst the fighting or fearing it. Soldiers quartered in his village and business, his home was pillaged several times and burned at least once, and his wife perished. Who knows how many family members he lost, directly or indirectly, in addition to his first wife.

In some way, Hans was able to acquire several vineyards. Martin speculated that perhaps Katharina’s parents were wealthy and the vineyards escaped destruction during the war, stating, “Hans was able to rebuild his property which was damaged during the 30 Years’ War. When he died, he owned 5 houses and 10 wine yards, much more than the average.”

Hans’ only son with Katharina, Hans Lenz (1645-1725), would build upon that fortune. In addition to his father’s houses and vineyards, the son built a new house and died with more than 1500 liters of wine in the cellar and a net worth of almost 15,000 guilders.

Martin marked Hans’ property on the Beutelsbach map, above, in red.

The lower buildings still exist today.

From 1650-1659, Hans was listed as a bread examiner, viewer, or inspector on the list of citizens. Who knew there was such a thing?!

Hans Lenz died on Christmas Eve, 1667 in Beutelsbach.

In the German tradition, the family would have gathered to celebrate Christmas on Christmas Eve, either at home or at church, or both. I wonder if Hans had been ill, or if he died suddenly, either at home during the festivities or in church during the services.

Perhaps Krampus, the Christmas demon, visited and stole Hans away!

Hans was 65 years old and left three living children from his marriage with Katherina. His son George had already died four years earlier. It’s unknown whether or not Katharina was still living.

If Hans was buried at the traditional time, his funeral service would have been held on Christmas Day, and he would have been buried inside the walled churchyard, just a few feet away from his home at 17 Stiftstrasse and the bakery he rebuilt after the war.

Perhaps Hans is resting within the very walls that saved him.

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