Thankful for the Third Generation

 

As I work my way through the family tree of Revolutionary War Patriot Lyman Jackson, I'm realizing what a challenge it is to confirm anyone's line of descent during the earliest years of this nation. To trace any of the descendants of his ten sons or three daughters, one would have to rely on court records, tax records, land records or other obscure documents in those years predating death certificates or even post-1850 census enumerations.

In the case of this Jackson family, though claiming a fairly common surname, they had one thing going for them: Lyman Jackson's grandchildren were quite willing to keep the family's stories alive. We've already discussed how helpful it was to find the story of grandson Lysander Jackson, in whose published biographical sketch he was sure to credit the accomplishments of his grandfather, the senior Lyman Jackson. I've since run into other Jackson grandsons' stories preserved in biographical sketches in county history books from the late 1800s.

I'm thankful for the willingness of that third generation to keep those Jackson family stories alive for future generations. It puts me in mind of a quote I ran across recently—which itself models the illustration of the importance, yet fragility, of passing along a comment from one person to the next.

The quote, as I most recently heard it, was from fellow genealogy blogger Randy Seaver. He had shared it in a presentation he had made in northern California, not far from my own home. Speaking to the Genealogical Society of Santa Cruz County, Randy reminded us that "it only takes three generations to lose a piece of oral family history."

This thought he had credited to another genealogist, Judy Russell, who had shared that quote in her keynote presentation at the fourth annual RootsTech conference back in 2014. Recapped by Judy Russell in her own blog, The Legal Genealogist, she mentioned finding the quote in an article published at the end of 2013 in Examiner.com by a Texas genealogist, Judy Everett Ramos.

That, however, was not the fountainhead of that provenance trail. Judy Everett Ramos, in turn, had drawn her inspiration from the actual source of that quote, a longstanding archivist at the National Archives in Fort Worth, Texas, named Aaron Holt. The cogent part of that statement, going back to Judy Russell's blog post, was

it only takes three generations to lose a piece of oral family history. ...It must be purposely and accurately repeated over and over again through the generations to be preserved for a genealogist today.

As I work my way through this one Jackson family's story from colonial times through the nineteenth century, I'm realizing how key that third generation was in ensuring that their ancestors' stories were preserved for the future. Whether in oral transmission or preservation in writing, their stories have not been entirely lost because someone chose to pass those details along to yet another set of descendants who were willing to do their part. 

A Grandson Returns Home

 

The search for the ten sons and three daughters of Lyman Jackson continues, but in this case, it is a grandson, not a son, who returns home to Erie County, Pennsylvania, where Lyman himself had finally settled. Once again, we find our clue from a century-old county history book, but this time, rather than a report from far to the west, the book is a publication from Erie County.

Lysander Jackson, Lyman's grandson, was also son of someone named Lyman. His father, born in 1790,  was his grandfather's namesake, but unlike the senior Lyman, Lysander's father ended up traveling to Wisconsin, where he served as a minister of the Methodist Episcopal Church.

According to his biographical sketch in the 1884 History of Erie County, Pennsylvania, Lysander was born in Erie County in 1823, and remained there—at least for all but two census enumerations—for most of his life. In his early adult years, Lysander apparently moved to Ashtabula County, Ohio, seeking work, but returned home soon afterwards. Married to Elizabeth McKee of his home county in Pennsylvania, he and his wife had only one child, Sarah. Years later, the couple could be found living with his brother-in-law back in Ohio for the 1900 census, but returned again to Pennsylvania before Lysander's death there in 1907.

Thanks once again to the published story of a grandson, we are able to trace the line of another of the senior Lyman Jackson's sons. Despite seeing those sons move far from their home in Pennsylvania, at least two of Lyman's grandsons made sure to keep the family story alive for another generation.

Another Son Stays Home

 

Researching ancestral lines stretching back to colonial times in America can prove challenging. In questioning which of Lyman Jackson's ten sons remained with him in his last residence in Erie County, Pennsylvania, I've found indications that some lines of descent moved westward. So far, I had only found one son who remained with his father in Erie County. But I may have just located another son who chose to stay—or return—home in Erie County.

My quest for this week has been to trace the remaining children of my mother-in-law's fourth great-grandfather Lyman and his wife Deidama—particularly those who moved westward. My assumption was that all but his son Michael had left Pennsylvania to obtain land elsewhere, especially considering that many of the men in that large family were of an age to have either served in the Revolutionary War, or in the War of 1812 which followed so soon afterwards.

Third child on the list of Lyman's descendants was Ebenezer. Lacking records, it seemed reports had him living—or traveling—both to places westward and residences back where Lyman himself had once lived in upstate New York. While Ebenezer may seem to be a rare choice for a given name in our day, I still needed to ensure that the few places where I spotted that name—Ebenezer Jackson—would not lure me into following a name twin.

However, thanks to a biographical sketch of one of his grandsons, published in 1893, far from the Jackson family's Pennsylvania home in the Biographical Review of Dane County, Wisconsin, Edson B. Jackson chose to include the story of both his father, John Lyman Jackson, and his grandfather, Ebenezer Jackson. Whether these accounts are complete and factually accurate, hopefully documentation will reveal. The task now will be to use this publication as a pathfinder, and see whether records can support this account.

According to this account, apparently after serving in the War of 1812, Ebenezer originally settled in Wyoming County, New York, in a place called Sheldon. Sometime before this, Ebenezer had married a woman from Otsego County named either Betsey Prindle or Pringle. The location of that marriage is not surprising, considering that Ebenezer's father Lyman had been reported in the 1800 census in that same county.

The biographical sketch went on to note that Ebenezer eventually moved to Albion in Erie County, Pennsylvania, "where he lived until he died." Though that comment may seem unhelpful, the sketch did include a date of death—August 7, 1857—providing us a way pointer to help locate a will to confirm the names of the seven children listed in the book.

Admittedly, family history books can often include embellishments, but this sketch has provided enough information to help us trace Ebenezer's family through documentation in those early years and confirm—or correct—what information has already been published.

Time to Check Progress — Once Again

 

New projects can reinvigorate the quest to find ancestors. Thanks to a recent message from a collaborator on my mother-in-law's side of the family, efforts have been supercharged for that branch of the family tree—not to mention this month's search for collateral lines for her Jackson roots. Since it's time to check the numbers once again, it's easy to see how those projects can impact progress.

Since this month is the first time this year in which I've moved my focus to my mother-in-law's line, the baseline count—which held steady for most of the past year, give or take a few birth announcements or funeral announcements—had remained at 41,793. Now, after just shy of two weeks' work, that same tree has now rocketed past that number by 413 new entries. That tree now has 42,206 thoroughly documented individuals.

Of course, there are many more additions to come, judging by the Jackson readout on the ThruLines results at Ancestry.com.  As I continue to work on this month's planned Jackson project—and add in those efforts prompted by contacts from collaborators—I expect the numbers will continue to climb in the next two weeks, as well.

Meanwhile, on my own side of the family tree, progress will lie dormant by plan. I'll return to researching that family later this fall, after two more months of work on my mother-in-law's line, followed by three months seeking news of the Irish side, courtesy of my father-in-law. Right now, my own tree remains at 41,908 documented individuals.

One aspect of working through this Twelve Most Wanted plan is revisiting the DNA results in each of the five companies where my husband and I have tested, to check new matches which have appeared since last year. In the case of the Jackson line, my focus for April, there are several new additions. My hope is that, adding more information to the lines of descent from Lyman Jackson will help point out the connections to those many currently-undiscovered matches. There are thousands of connections yet to be reconnected to family lines, including that Jackson line, I'm sure.  

Collaboration is Key

 

When it comes to researching our family's history, each of us knows a little something about our ancestors that another cousin might not know. On the other hand, someone among all those cousins—or even siblings!—might have a photo of an ancestor that we don't have. To piece the story together, collaboration is key.

When it comes to my own immediate family, it might seem reasonable to assume I'd be one who has amassed the most information on those ancestral lines. Imagine my surprise, then, when in a phone conversation about family history the other day, my sister calmly mentioned, "Oh, I have some photographs about that." And she did!

A few days ago, a distant cousin on my mother-in-law's side of our family sent me an email. We have intermittently been exchanging research notes over years—I've lost track of how long—but a new discovery through DNA seemed to reveal a lead to a brick wall ancestor's roots, and this researcher wanted to bounce the idea off me. We'll surely follow that conversation to see where it leads. Whether it becomes a productive pursuit or not, at least we've explored the possibility. You never know until you test out the theory whether it will yield a viable answer. Partnering to explore ideas and brainstorm solutions makes a difference.

Collaboration can enable us to combine details which neither researcher would have seen on his or her own, and examine possible outcomes for genealogical theories. Collaboration can make the work go faster by focusing a group on one given research question at a time. It can provide encouragement when the effort is flagging, and a cheering team when a discovery is finally achieved. And working together can help guard us from unrealistic or unsupported assumptions.

Over the decades in which I've been struggling to find my family's stories, I've met some fellow genealogists who have been wonderful collaborators, for which I've been grateful. Some are no longer with us and are sorely missed, and some, whether for a season of demanding work duties or a season of life, are not currently in the game. Others are new acquaintances, met online and messaged over time through digital means—and maybe, in some cases, will someday be a connection over phone calls or even face-to-face meetings. 

No matter how we connect, though, the important part is that we do connect—a way that enriches the research and makes the wins worth celebrating together.

Seeking Lyman's Other Sons

 

The project to find replacements for a will for Lyman Jackson had its first encouragement when I located a deed transferring property in Erie County, Pennsylvania, his final home. There, I located the record for a property exchange with Michael Jackson, one of Lyman Jackson's ten sons. The search to find any similar documents for Lyman's other sons, however, produced nothing useful.

The search then moved from using FamilySearch.org's AI-assisted Full Text Search to the decidedly low-tech approach of using my own eyeballs to go down the list of Lyman's sons, one by one, to see who else might have stayed in Erie County. 

The answer, arriving just in time with son number nine, was Royal Gilbert Jackson. Born in 1799 and living only until 1842, Royal Jackson may have remained in the last place his father called home, but otherwise, he left a scant record.

Much like the Jackson descendants of that certain ongoing pioneering spirit which we've already found, the rest of Lyman's ten sons and three daughters—those who could be found documented in records—were featured in states other than Pennsylvania. Next week, we'll move on to follow their trails westward.  

No, Not That Michael Jackson

 

There are some names which just catch the eye and make one wonder: is it that one? But in this case, the answer would be no, not that Michael Jackson—though he was his grandfather's namesake.

Then, again, that Jackson family had a habit of reusing favorite names. That, of course, made researching my mother-in-law's fourth great-grandfather Lyman Jackson's family more challenging. With Lyman himself being son of someone named Michael Jackson, it was predictable that he would name one of his ten sons after his own father. Nor did it keep those ten sons from wanting to echo that same pattern for the next generation.

Suddenly, the need to become wary of name twins escalates, which makes me doubly regret that Lyman Jackson apparently chose an alternate route to the traditional last will and testament. Rather than having one handy document which listed each child by name (hopefully), in Lyman's case, we'll need to scour the deed books of Erie County, Pennsylvania, for mention of any indentures of land prior to his 1835 passing.

That's where Michael Jackson comes in. Apparently in Erie County on May 2, 1825, Lyman and his wife, Deidamia Jackson, for the payment of several hundred dollars from one Michael Jackson, transferred ownership of one specifically identified tract of land. The whole document was witnessed by two additional Jackson sons, David and Royal, and entered into the Erie County deed books on July 27, 1824.

With that one legal transfer, Lyman and his wife cemented the likelihood that at least this one son wouldn't be wandering westward like some of the other Jackson descendants. If that were the case for this one son, perhaps the process might be repeated for other Jackson children, a possibility which I need to research several more times, judging from the robust size of this Jackson family.