March 2009 Archives

As I mentioned in part 1 of this story, I began armed with this bit of information from my grandmother, They were the "Howards of Virginia, wealthy and important."  Visions of southern plantations waft through my brain.  When I finally got an official copy of James E. Howard's death certificate which gave his birthplace as West Virginia, I was a lot less impressed. True, that my grandmother didn't really lie, after all, when he was born in 1859 there was no West Virginia it was just Virginia.  However, I now had to put away visions of southern gentility and replace it with a more realistic vision of the hard-scrabble, oft-feuding, mountain-folk.

To find out even more I decided that a trip to Marshall County, West Virginia was in order.  So I left my husband with the family car and the kids and took his pickup off for a weekend in West Virginia.  The trip to Marshall County was a story in itself and really why we should all get out there at times to dig for our roots rather than just sitting and researching at our computers.

Sure at the courthouse I found wills, records, etc...  but I found so much more...politics... geography... and beauty.

First politics: A trip to the local historical society gleaned the names of a few John Howards (my 4th great grandfather) buried in the area.  I asked one of the volunteers for directions to the Howard Cemetery in Cameron. I got a chuckle and a follow up question. "Which Howard Cemetery, the Howard Republican Cemetery or the Howard Democratic Cemetery?"  At this point I was flabberghasted, there are TWO different cemeteries for the same HOWARD family, separated in distance by about a half mile apart but apparently worlds apart politically. During the drive I couldn't help but wonder  what a post-Civil War family must have been like; to have such deep-seated political wounds as to not want to be buried in the same cemetery. Quite the family feud indeed! 

Geography: Now let me set a scene for you,  I grew up in the Allegheny Mountains of Pennsylvania, and WV has the exact same mountain range,  it's all Appalachia. But I'd never been to West Virginia before. The first observation I made was that here in PA, all the roads are at the base of the mountains. OK, new highways may be at the top, but old roads that lead to real villages tend to follow the creeks and rivers, with tiny dirt roads leading up into the mountains. In short, you get used to driving along in PA and looking up at the mountains. After driving in WV for a while I began to notice that I was driving on roads that were at the top of mountains and I was constantly looking down and the little dirt roads led down into the hollows.  That alone set me up for a surreal experience.
 
I arrived at the Democratic Cemetery first at the top of a hill. There were some folks who I thought were probably cousins, but no stones that seemed to be any direct relations, so I moved on to the Republican Cemetery down the dirt road that lead to the ravine.  I got to the bottom and what was there, well... pretty much a swamp.  With a cemetery on one of it's banks.  I put the pickup into park at the end of the dirt road, and got out.  Squish!  My foot was now covered in mud. Furthermore I noticed that the tires seemed to be pretty mired in mud as well.  Next something LARGE that I glimpsed out of the corner of my eye, slipped into the pond that formed the center of this seeming swamp. I shuddered, I didn't want to know!  After not finding my 4th-great grandfather's grave in this cemetery either,  I climbed back into the pickup and at first went nowhere, just spun in the mud.  There was no cell phone service, my truck was stuck in the middle of a swamp and I remember thinking that I would die right there and I'd have to be buried with the "poor relations"  after all if they'd been better off surely they could have been buried up on the hill!  Anyway, 4-wheel drive and some luck did get me back out.

Absolute beauty: After my mud experience I still tried many more cemeteries. Though I never did find my 4th great-grandfather HOWARD, I did find the tombstone for my 4th-great grandfather James LAUGHLIN (1796-1873) in Rock Lick, WV. At the time, I couldn't conclusively prove that he was my grandfather, frankly I still can't but as I stood over his tombstone, the sun broke through the clouds and the most beautiful rainbow appeared.  That rainbow continued to follow me for the rest of the day and back to the hotel. Coincidence, sure.  But I like to think that it was great-grandpa smiling at someone who'd found him -- someone who's blood, and someone who cares. :-) 

Gear up for a long post - but I think this story is worth it. My grandfather, father, and brother all had/have the middle name HOWARD, after my great-grandmother Malvern Blanche Howard. When I decided to get started on the HOWARD line, my great-grandmother and my grandfather were already gone. My grandmother filled me in on what she knew of her husband's HOWARD ancestry.  I got the following information:

• " The 'Howards of Virginia' were a very wealthy and important family."
•  "Pop's grand-daddy James Enos Howard was a doctor who used to light his pipes with $100 bills."
• "James Enos Howard wrote a book once,  I think there might be a copy of it somewhere in the house."
• "Malvern Howard was disowned when she married Ray Welsh, a conductor on the B&O railroad."
• "James E. Howard offered to pay for his grandson's (my grandfathers) college tuition if he would only drop the last name WELSH and use only Ray Howard. My grandfather refused and worked in a steel mill his whole life."

OK, that and a few dates/places seemed like a lot of good information with which to get started.  The book "In the Beginning" by James Enos Howard [1916, Roxburgh Press, Boston, Mass. Library Of Congress # BS1235.H68} about the biblical book of Genesis was indeed written by my GG-Grandfather.  Since the family had only the one copy,  I have a photocopy of the book.

Next, my mother decided that since James Howard was the doctor in Mill Run, PA,  we should take a trip over to find his grave.  I said that we had no idea what cemetery he was buried in, and her reply was that there's probably only one in a town that small anyway.  So, off we went one Saturday.  We arrived in "town" which is pretty much one road,  and couldn't seem to find any cemetery, so we stopped and asked someone which way to the cemetery.

 "Which one?,"  he said. 
"There's more than one?"
"Well, who are you looking for?", he asked. 

My thinking was that I'm looking for a man who died in 1934,  it's not like this guy would know him;  but my mother didn't miss a beat and piped up "Old Doc Howard."
"Oh, my father knew him. He'd be buried in the Baptist Cemetery."  And he gave us directions.

Flabberghasted but happy, I followed his directions and in no time we found his grave. Not fifteen minutes later, this same man pulls in behind us with his car.  Mr. Dull as it turns out, had more information to share that he thought we'd want to know.  His 90-year-old dad lives with him and he went inside to tell his Dad after giving us the directions.  His Dad relayed these two stories and so he came up to the cemetery to share them with us. 

1) Doc Howard had stitched up Mr. Dull's father when he was a little boy after the sled he was riding wedged him under a barbed-wire fence, and

2) that this was a story that Doc Howard himself liked to tell:

Mrs. Shipley had asked him to come around (remember doctors used to make house calls) and check on her teenage daughter.  The girl was prone to bouts of nausea that seemed to come and go. It was like no flu she'd ever seen.  The doc examined her and informed Mrs. Shipley that her daughter didn't have the flu or any other ailment, she was pregnant.  The indignant woman told him that just wasn't possible, as her daughter was now and had always been a good girl.  'Why she's never even been with a boy'.  At this point, he shook his head, laughed and said that "God hadn't done it that way in 1900 years, and he'd guess that wasn't going to change now."

So what did I learn on that trip?  Birthdate and death date from the tombstone, but priceless stories from Mr. Dull.  Don't be afraid to ask the local folks!

As I've mentioned before, the detective work inherent in genealogy research is one of the things I enjoy and the thrill of uncovering a juicy story is equaled by the thrill of finding the next generation back. When I started my grandmother had most of her genealogy already done, back 9 or 10 generations in most cases,  so there wasn't a lot to discover on my own for that side of the family.  Luckily, I had three other grandparents who didn't know (or maybe didn't care).  In any case, there were lots of unknown ancestors to find!  And find I did. However, after 20 years of research the new finds are fewer and farther between. We get so far on a line and hit our "brick walls" and they remain that way for years.  But this past weekend, one of those walls moved!

I found a death certificate for my 3rd great-grandfather Charles C. Parsons;  it listed his parents names (including mother's maiden name!)- Joseph Parsons and Julia Safford.  I just want to say, I love those anal-retentive New Englander's who felt the need to document everything that ever happened in their town.  My Pennsylvania ancestors, were born, married, and died and nobody official ever took note.

So here's to my 4th-great grandparents - Joseph and Julia.  So far that's all I have but I look forward to finding out more about them in months (maybe years) to come.

I love history in general.  Mine or anyone elses.  Since I have a large collection of resource books, I volunteer to do lookups in them for others.   When a request came to me to do a lookup for Indian John Miller,  I knew I had a good bit of information in many different places.  This was a great excuse to cull it all together and add some coherent notes into my database for my 7th great-grand-uncle. (i.e., brother to my 7th great-grandmother). Of my 7G-grandmother who married Benedict Lehman,  I know virtually nothing, not even her first name, but her brother was a big part of Somerset County lore.  So...

According to Gingerich & Kreider(1)  John Miller was know by the names "Wounded John" "Crippled John" or "Indian John."  He was born in Europe and died in Somerset County PA in 1798.

DJH (2) p. 953. states that "John MIller,  was wounded by the Indians when they were taking the family of Jacob Hostetler into captivity."  That means that it also puts John living in the Northkill Settlement, Berks Co., PA in Sept. 1757. Since that was the date and place of the Indian attack mentioned.  He later moved to Somerset County as did many of the Amish in that area. DJH p. 953 also mentions that it gets it's information from an account of the Indian John Miller family by Moses B. Miller of Geistown, PA.

This family info is from G&K p. 270.  Order of issue uncertain. All children were born in  Berks Co, PA . children of John Miller & ?:

• Barbara, born circa 1750 married Jacob Hochstetler
• John, born circa 175, married Veronica, nicknamed  "Fanny". He died June 13, 1802 in Somerset County
• Jacob, born August 1754, married Anna Stutzman. He died 2/25/1835 in Tuscarawas co., Ohio
• Peter, born 1756 married Mary Stutzman. he died 11/1/1818 in Somerset county.
• Catherine, born circa 1758 married Jacob Kauffman
• Christian born circa 1760, married Veronica. He died in 1839 in Somerset county.
• Joseph, born circa 1762 married first Barbara Speicer, then Barbara Bontrager
• Mary, born circa 1764 married John Schrock
• Veronica "Franey", born circa 1766 married Christian Speicer
• a duaghter born circa, 1768 married Christian Mishler
• Elizabeth, born circa 1770 married Joseph Speicher

Somerset county orphans Court records July 28, 1798 show Magdalena widow of John Miller renouncing the right to administer the estate in favor of eldest son John and son-in-law Joseph Speicher.  G&K (still p. 270) notes that Magdalena MAY have been Indian John's second wife and therefore NOT the mother of his children. But it's also possible that she was indeed his only wife.  The reason for the confusion over the wife is as follows: "A near neighbor of wounded John was Benedict Lehman. Since a grandson of Wounded John was named Benedict Miller and since Benedict is a quite uncommon name among the Amish in America except for the Benedict Miller's descendants, it seems likely that there was some connection between the Miller and Lehman families. Benedict Lehman was on the ship list of Oct. 8, 1737 with apparently a son benedict on the list of women and children but no daughter Magdalena. Thus the widow of Wounded John Miller could not have been a daughter of Benedict Lehman But Barbara or Catherine Lehman, probable daughters of Benedict on the ship list might have been the first wife of Wounded John and the mother of his children.

As to when John Miller arrived in America, no one is quite certain, but G&K. p. 269 offers up the following:
"Among the many well-known Amish names on the 9/15/1749 ship list are Hannes Miller, Jacob Miller, Christian Miller, Peter Miller, Jacob Mishler, Joseph Mishler, Benedict Lehman, David Miller, and Abraham Kurtz.  It seems likely that three or more of the MILLERs named above were members of the Miller family under consideration.  Since the real name of Wounded John's son John was Hannas, it's likely that Wounded John's real name was also that and the Hannes Miller listed might well have been "Wounded John."

And in case that really is him, here's the information from the ships list. (see source 3).  "At the Court house at Philadelphia, Friday, the 15th September 1749.  The  foreigners whose Names are underwritten, imported in the ship Phoenix, John Mason, Master ... did this day take the usual Qualifications to the government. By the List 261. 550 whole freights, from Zweybrech, Nassau, Wirtemberg, and Palitinate."   [Just FYI,  550 whole freights were the total number transported.  The list has only 261 names since only men over the age of 16 were required to swear allegiance to the English crown.]

Lastly, Indian John was most probably the son of Christian Miller (also listed on the above-mentioned ships list.)

DJH p. 33 says (when describing  the story of the captive Hostetler family being marched off) "There is a traditional what while crossing the mountains they passed a cleaning where a man named Miller, was chopping. He was shot at and hit in the hand as he raised his ax; he fled and was not pursued."  DBH (see source 4, written after 26 more years of research by the author)) on page 26 relays the exact same language but with a footnote that this Miller was indeed Indian John or Wounded John Miller.


Source list:

(1) Gingerich & Krieder, Amish & Amish Mennonite Genealogies,  (Pequea Publishing, Gordonville, PA. 1986.).

(2)Harvey Hochstetler, Descendants of Jacob Hochstetler,  (Gospel Book Store. Reprint. originally published, 1912).

(3) Strassberger, R. B., Pennsylvania German Pioneers,  (Picton Press. Camden, Maine. 1992.). Volume 1, pp. 404-407

(4)Harvey Hochstetler, Descendants of  Barbara Hochstetler and Christian Stutzman,  (Gospel Book Store. Reprint. originally published, 1938).

My great-great grandfather William Henry Benjamin was born in 1841, the son of a well-to-do Concord, Massachusetts family.  At some point in the late 1850's the family hired Victoria Regina "Jenny" Masters, an immigrant from Nova Scotia, to be their maid. She was nearly five years older than their eldest son William.  When he was 19 in 1861, he married Jenny Masters (age 24) and one month later enlisted in the Civil War and didn't come home for three years.  I can only what poor Jenny's life must have been, being stuck in the same house with her former employers as their new daughter-in-law and without her husband around. Anyway,  I do know some of what William's life was while in the war, thanks to this family heirloom.

The following is a transcription of a long-hand letter written by W. H. Benjamin to his daughter Clara on Oct. 30, 1898 describing his Civil War service:
 
The principal battles I took part in are Williamsburg, Fair Oaks, Glendale, Malvern Hill,
Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, Gettysburg, Locust Grove, Wilderness, Spottsylvania
Court House, besides several skirmishes. Now the difference between a skirmish and
battle is this a skirmish is where a small number of troops are sent out to find the enemy
how they are located etc. but not to bring on a general engagement but sometimes it
cannot be avoided. A battle is a general engagement where both sides exert themselves
with brains and force, to drive the enemy and secure a victory, the battles above named
were all very severe and stubborn with greats loss of life on both sides. The strain and
hardships in time of battle are great, loss of sleep with little chance to eat or drink.
Sometimes feeling as though you could not breathe for want of water, and then in battle
you have a great deal of marching as well as fighting. I have been 48 hours without food,
and on the march at that, some of the time double quick or double time. The Battles of
Fair Oaks, Glendale, Malvern Hill followed one after the other, seven days of fighting
and seven nights marching. One might picture to themselves some of the hardships in a
soldiers life in time of war, scarcity of water was one of the greatest hardships, one hardly
realizes what it is to almost die for the want of it, long marches in rain and hot sun,
sometime fifteen miles a day or rather that was an average days march. I remember one
day we made forty-five miles when I dropped unable to go any farther, as I had the
chronic diarrhea (is that spelt right). A soldiers life in camp is rather lazy a great deal of
the time, some of the time there is excitement - enough to make pleasant. I will not write
any more, although, if I should have commenced at the beginning of my three years and
follow it out, there would be quite a book.

Oh, how I wish he would have written a book!

Since today is St. Patrick's Day, my thoughts always turn to my Irish ancestors, all of whom, I'd like to think are smiling down at me.  Let me start with the 'green' (Irish Catholic) side of the family tree. 

My 3rd-great grandfather Frank Fagan (1826-1897) was part of the huge migration from Ireland during the potato famine. He was probably from county Westmeath in central Ireland. What his circumstances were in Ireland, I don't really know, but here's a pretty fair guess. "Devon in February 1845 reported that 'It would be impossible adequately to describe the privations which they [Irish labourer and his family] habitually and silently endure . . . in many districts their only food is the potato, their only beverage water . . . their cabins are seldom a protection against the weather... a bed or a blanket is a rare luxury . . . and nearly in all their pig and a manure heap constitute their only property.' The Commissioners concluded that they could not "forbear expressing our strong sense of the patient endurance which the labouring classes have exhibited under sufferings greater, we believe, than the people of any other country in Europe have to sustain."  (source: Cecil Woodham-Smith, The Great Hunger, Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1991, p. 24).

Frank married Elizabeth Martin born in Ireland in December 1829, she died 17 Oct 1901. I don't have a date or place for their marriage but my guess is that it was here in America, circa 1851.  Their first child, was born in March of 1852 in West Troy, New York. 

Frank and Elizabeth lived in the south section of West Troy - just north of the Watervliet Arsenal.  Perhaps Frank who is listed on census records as simply "laborer" worked there. The Fagans had seven daughters.   Four of them are in this photo.  Mary Fagan Owens my gg-grandmother is the dark-haired beauty in the center. My guess is that her sisters Catherine, Elizabeth & Bridget are the other three, those being the four oldest.

The Fagans attended St. Brigid's Church and Frank & Elizabeth are buried at St. Patrick's Cemetery in Watervliet. 

I realize this post doesn't have the same "story value" as most of my others, but the fact is I know very little of this family, and there's probably not much more to uncover.  I attended a genealogy workshop on finding Irish ancestors (specifically Northern Ireland, but it applies to the rest of the island too) and the fact is that the English have destroyed most Irish records, so finding out anything more is not very likely.  But I still hold out hope that the luck of the Irish may yet turn up something new about this family.