Messy Discoveries

 

While family history researchers may hope for a streamlined outline of their ancestors' key life events, that is not always how the search progresses. When it comes to piecing together supporting documentation, there may be twists and turns. Today, I ran into one messy discovery that seems to turn the Miller family story on its head.

Having found the 1850 census showing Solomon Miller's widowed mother Catharine still living in Perry County, Ohio—and not in Indiana, as one biographical sketch of Solomon's life had claimed—I decided to look for corroborating evidence. 

Stop one was to look for what became of the two other people living in the widow's 1850 household. While I have yet to figure out who the child, Ann Boyer, might have been, verification on Catharine's mother, Catharine Humberger, was easier to find. At Find A Grave, Catharine Humberger's still legible headstone showed her burial place to be at the Zion Reformed Lutheran Cemetery in Thornville, Ohio, a village situated in Perry County's Thorn Township, where we had found her living in the 1850 census.

As often appears in Find A Grave entries, this memorial for Catharine Humberger included information provided by volunteers. A note indicated that this Catharine's maiden name was Snider, a pertinent discovery for tracing my mother-in-law's line, which is full of Sniders. A Find A Grave volunteer also provided links to three other memorials related to this Catharine, including one for Catharine Humbarger Miller, the mother of the Solomon we've been researching this week.

Looking at that linked memorial for Catharine, Solomon's mother, brought with it a surprise: according to that volunteer-provided information, Catharine was married twice. Her marriage to George Miller came after her previous marriage to someone named Herbert Winegardner.

Perry County being what it is—a place where many longstanding residents found themselves related to each other in multiple ways—this was not encouraging news for a researcher using DNA testing. Not only would the Snider connection cause problems seeking clarity on the Miller line, but my mother-in-law's Perry County roots—to say nothing of my father-in-law's connections there—intertwine with the Winegardner surname as well.

The Find A Grave information indicated that the Winegardners had a daughter born in 1816, as well as a son born in 1820, the same year as Herbert's death in 1820. That would explain the female in Catherine Miller's entry in the 1830 census, long after the deaths of both her husbands, Herbert Winegardner and George Miller—and discard my hoped-for resolution of where Lydia Miller, my mother-in-law's second great-grandmother, fit into the picture.

That, at least, was according to the entries provided by Find A Grave volunteers. You know I had to check those details.

My first stop was to look for a marriage record for Herbert Winegardner and Catharine Humbarger. Voila! Thanks to FamilySearch.org, in a snap, I found a handwritten—and rambling—entry in the records for a May 7, 1816, marriage in Fairfield County for "Harbert" Winegardner and Catharine "Humbarge." (The record also indicated an alternate spelling as Humberger.) And the location in Fairfield County? Not to worry: Perry County wasn't established until two years later, when it was carved from Fairfield County in 1818.

So far, so good, right? Next step was to look for a marriage record for George Miller and a widowed Catharine Winegardner. Easy peasy: an 1823 entry, possibly signed by the same minister who had performed the earlier Winegardner marriage in Fairfield County, verified the Miller-Winegardner ceremony.

But wait! There is a problem with that second record. If Solomon's father George Miller died three months before Solomon was born in 1822, it would have been an eerily otherworldly ceremony indeed, if his father married his mother almost a year after that point. Not to mention, ten years after Herbert Winegardner supposedly died in 1820, there was someone by that name still showing in the 1830 census back in Fairfield County.

Complicating matters was the discovery that there might have been two Catharine Humbergers in Perry County, a discovery I made while mulling over all the Humberger men showing in Thorn Township in the 1830 census, some of whom were listed on the very page where I spotted Catharine Miller. Not to mention, after the demise of our short-lived George Miller, two others by that same name remained in Perry County in 1830, making it quite possible that we've been chasing the paper trail for the wrong name twins.

One result of these messy discoveries was to turn back once again to the published biographical sketch mentioning Catharine's son Solomon Miller. That 1907 narrative mentioned that Solomon's parents, George and Catharine, had been parents of ten children, the youngest of whom was Solomon himself. The three children counted in the Miller entry for the 1830 census were hardly ten, but perhaps they also didn't represent the two presumed Winegardner children.

With differentiating between name twins and ferreting out corroborating details, we may be facing some tree-building exercises for an ever-expanding Humberger family line. Or perhaps, delving into the identity of Ann Boyer, that mystery child in Catharine's 1850 household, might provide a shortcut to the answer identifying the right Catharine.

About Catharine

 

Some family stories progress predictably. From the earliest stage of boy-meets-girl to marriage, then children, then grandchildren and beyond, the history plays out in a logical manner. The family, perhaps, has lived in the same town for generations. No one died prematurely. Or changed their name without confirming it legally. The play-by-play details have been laid out publicly for all to see in retrospect, the kind of predictability appreciated by genealogists.

George and Catharine Miller were not, apparently, such a couple. At first, I was elated to discover a biographical sketch about their son Solomon which seemed to provide key details about the family's roots. Once I began reconstructing the story via documentation, though, the path to their past became a bit bumpier.

As I had mentioned yesterday, I saw that the narrative in the 1907 publication, History of Whitley County, Indiana provided three particular guiding details about Solomon and his parents:

• Solomon's parents, George and Catharine, had moved from Pennsylvania to Perry County, Ohio.
• George and Catharine were parents of ten children.
• When Solomon moved west to Indiana about 1843, he was accompanied by his wife, his daughter, and his widowed mother. 

My first clue about reliability, in tracing those details, was when I tried to follow Solomon's mother, Catharine, in records. While the published narratives mentioned that Solomon's move west was in a group of travelers including his mother, that could only be true if she had accompanied them for only a short while. In today's world, that sort of arrangement might be feasible, but when I checked the 1850 census for Catharine's name, it led me to a different indicator.

There, as predicted, in 1850 in Whitley County, Indiana, was Solomon and his family: his wife Melinda and six children, five of them born in Indiana. The one glaring omission from that growing family was the widowed mother who supposedly had made the journey westward with Solomon.

Where was Catharine? Back home in Perry County, Ohio.

Catharine's 1850 census entry showed her in a small household including two other people: seventy seven year old Catharine Humberger, and a six year old girl named Ann Boyer. Though I have yet to figure out how young Ann Boyer might have been related to the two women, we already know that Catharine Miller's maiden name was Humberger, thus leading to the conclusion that after Solomon's departure, Catharine was still living in Perry County with her own mother. Plus, in this census, Catharine was living in Thorn Township, where we had seen her before, after the 1822 death of her husband George Miller.

In fact, in Catharine Miller's appearance in the 1830 census, my hopes had been lifted by the fact that her household included two boys and a girl between the ages of ten and fifteen. The Miller child we've been pursuing this month, my mother-in-law's brick wall ancestor Lydia Miller, born in 1820, would have fit perfectly in that category. After all, the Whitley County narrative mentioned that Solomon was one of ten children. But now I'm not so sure that biographical detail was correct, either.

The reason for my doubt? Another discovery about this Catharine and who those other children in her household might have been.

Nothing is Ever Easy

 

I've said it before. I'll say it again: nothing is ever easy. In research, this limiting factor gives rise to warnings such as "don't believe everything you read" and other sayings. In the case of Solomon Miller and his parents, George Miller and Catharine Humbarger, we are about to see that sentiment played out for us. This, I discovered while congratulating myself on perhaps solving the puzzle of just where my mother-in-law's second great-grandmother Lydia Miller might have originated. It's time to think again.

Thanks to a distant DNA match to my husband who directed my attention to Solomon Miller, I had found two biographical sketches regarding this man. Looking more closely at the more detailed sketch from Whitley County, Indiana, I thought I'd use the details to point the way to Solomon's roots. 

According to the narrative in the 1907 publication, History of Whitley County, Indiana, I gleaned three particular guiding details:

• Solomon's parents, George and Catharine, had moved from Pennsylvania to Perry County, Ohio.
• George and Catharine were parents of ten children.
• When Solomon moved west to Indiana about 1843, he was accompanied by his wife, his daughter, and his widowed mother. 

As I began tracing those details, it became obvious that those three hallmark details from the Whitley County biography were not entirely correct. There were, apparently, missing parts of the story involving not only what happened after Solomon married Malinda Anspaugh, but also what happened before Solomon's own birth.

Those missing parts may turn out to embed key details of an untold story, if what I'm finding in documentation turns out to tell a fuller version of the same couple's history. George and Catharine may both, for instance, have come from Pennsylvania, but they may not have migrated at the same time. Also, between the two of them, George and Catharine may have claimed ten children, but not all from the same marriage—a detail which will take some research to not only confirm but clarify. And the widowed Catharine may not have been her son's constant companion in his journeys westward to Indiana.

Knowing that Miller was such a common surname in Ohio back then as it is today, we'll need to tread carefully through the archived details pertaining to our couple's life story. There may have been much more than what was told in that handy published biographical sketch. Then again, those details could have been a story reserved for another couple by the name of George and Catharine Miller. It's up to us to uncover the full report.

Solomon's Timeline

 

In pursuing Solomon Miller's life story as genealogists do—starting from the end, then moving toward the beginning—it might not have become immediately obvious that this man would fit into our Perry County, Ohio, Miller network. Perhaps if we had the luxury of perusing any saved letters from Solomon, sent home to family left behind as he moved to Whitley County, Indiana, we might have realized we were on the right track. At first glance, however, the Ohio connection for this Indiana settler was not evident.

In such a case, it might be helpful to lay out a timeline, from start to finish, concerning Solomon's life story. As it turns out, he did, after all, make a significant appearance in the very spot in Ohio—Perry County—which supports the connection we've been keen to discover.

The information came first from two small biographies published about the history of Whitley County, Indiana, where Solomon, son of Pennsylvanians, had settled and raised his family. Equipped with those brief narratives, it was easier to follow the trail and locate supporting documentation.

Here's a brief outline, gleaned from that material, concerning what we can find so far.

Before 1822: Solomon's parents, George Miller and Catherine Humbarger, arrive in Perry County, Ohio, from an unidentified location in Pennsylvania.

In 1822:

• George Miller dies in Perry County about April
• Solomon's future wife Malinda (Anspach?) is born June 19
• Solomon Miller is born on July 22

Skipping to the 1840s:

• June 9, 1841, Solomon marries Malinda in Perry County
• In 1842, the couple moves to Thorn Creek in Whitley County, Indiana
• Solomon's widowed mother Catherine moves with them
• A daughter named Lucinda, born in Ohio, moves with them
• Malinda's parents David and Sarah "Auspaugh" move with them

Indeed, a quick look at all the Millers in the 1840 census in Perry County revealed one household headed by a woman listed as "Katharine" Miller. Included in that household were two young men between the ages of fifteen and nineteen, one woman in her twenties, plus another woman in her forties, likely the widowed Catharine, herself. An encouraging sign, in examining the other surnames listed on that page of the 1840 census, was to see the name John Humbarger listed—possibly a close relative to the widow.

Though the biographical sketches list Solomon's wife's maiden name as Auspaugh, looking back to the handwritten marriage record in Perry County, it appears her name was rendered in one place as Anspaugh. We'll look further into Malinda's origin, as well, before the month is out. 

By the time of the 1850 census, Solomon and Malinda claimed six young ones living in their new household in Indiana. All told, the couple eventually boasted seventeen children, of which at least nine married and raised families of their own, giving us plenty of opportunities to find possible DNA matches to connect us to our goal, finding brick wall ancestor Lydia Miller's roots.

We haven't yet, however, sealed the deal on whether each Perry County Miller was connected to each other—or how. A look further back in time, however, may help provide some supporting documentation. We need to do a bit more exploration through local records.

Add Another Name to the Miller Network

 

Sometimes, we need to broaden the circle when searching for a mystery ancestor. In the case of Lydia Miller, my mother-in-law's brick wall second great-grandmother, finding the identity of her parents has been a process of building an ever-expanding network of possible Miller relatives. This week, we'll add yet another name to this Miller network, and hope it leads us closer to an answer.

One DNA match linked to my husband's line stretches back to someone possessing a given name which seemed to be favored by the other Ohio Miller families I've already been researching: Solomon. How could I not check out such a family line with a clue like that?!

There was a lot to learn about this particular Miller man. Fortunately, there were two resources which had published details on his biography. One was shared by a subscriber to Ancestry.com. The other was embedded within the biography of a man who turned out to become one of Solomon's many sons-in-law.

Both biographies, however, were published concerning the early history of Whitley County—a location in the state of Indiana, not Ohio. Fortunately, the narrative in each entry provided a trail back to the very place in Ohio where I had been left, stumped, with Lydia.

About this Solomon, he had one other detail going for him: it turns out that he apparently was born in Perry County, Ohio, the same location of Lydia's birth and first marriage.

Finding details on Solomon's parents became my next step. Each of the two biographies identified his parents as George Miller and Catharine Humbarger. Each story also included another detail: that Solomon's father had died in Ohio—in fact, three months before he was born.

Solomon, according to these resources, was born July 22, 1822, not long after Lydia was born. That his father George left Solomon an orphan at birth also meant that any other children born to George and Catharine would have been orphaned, as well.

Such a scenario also would have provided an explanation for someone like Lydia, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, disconnected from any parents or other siblings before her marriage in Perry County at a young age in 1838.

Whether Lydia was connected to Solomon and, by extension, his parents, will be challenging to confirm. We'll first need to explore what further details can be discovered on both George Miller and his widow, the former Catherine Humbarger. Then we'll need to see whether there are any additional records which can help us piece together the story of Lydia's early years in Perry County—and the rest of the story about the widowed Catherine and the possible other Miller children she may have left behind when she moved with her son to Indiana. 

Remembering

 

Today, folks in the United States observe the national holiday known as Memorial Day. Rooted in the observance once followed in the aftermath of the American Civil War as Decoration Day, when people would visit cemeteries and mark gravesites with flags and flowers, the purpose has been to honor military personnel who died in the line of duty.

Remembering those who have passed, whether in service to their country or to their own family and community, holds a special place for historians and especially genealogists. I can't, however, think of the task of remembering without having another memory come to mind, a comment I hear far too often.

That comment, coming from my relatives across the decades, has been a regret that they never thought to ask questions of their elders until it became too late. Questions which—whether simple or detailed, piercing or generic—could only be answered by the living, not those who have gone on before.

This holiday weekend, as I spend time with extended family which includes two generations younger than I am, I wonder how many of them will experience that same pang of regret in twenty or thirty years. What questions will they wish they had asked their grandparents? More to the point, what is it about all of us that we don't think to ask those questions until it is too late to receive the answer from those who matter the most?

I think, in particular, about one woman in my mother-in-law's line named Lydia Miller. Married not once but twice, matriarch to two family lines: what was her story? Is there anyone left to know the explanation of what became of her memory or even where she came from, back in the 1820s?

I think, also, of my own mother's ancestors. Some of them experienced big changes in the 1820s. The difference was that one of those relatives, back then, thought to share that family's story, which was heard, then repeated by someone in the next generation, who then shared it with her grandchildren, who then repeated it to their children. Some of that same story lives today because someone thought to tell it—and someone else thought to preserve it and deliver it to someone else who would pass it along.

Remembering is important. But we also need to realize that memories are a vapor which can vanish in a moment, if we don't pick up the refrain and sing it again through the ages, generation by generation. 

On the D N A Trail

 

Looking for a way to connect a brick wall ancestor with her parents will hopefully lead to answers through DNA testing. I've been on that DNA trail for Lydia Miller's ancestors for weeks now. While nothing positive has shown up yet, it's surprising how many possibilities lead me down different paths, all pointing to different Miller progenitors.

This coming week, we'll look at yet another family branch claiming Miller roots. In the meantime, we'll take today for another biweekly count of tree-building progress.

Tracing the lines of various Miller descendants has indeed inflated the count on my mother-in-law's tree, which contains Lydia's potential relatives, so far listed in floating branches. In the past two weeks, 255 more documented relatives have been added to that family tree. In total, the tree now contains 43,176 individuals.

In the meantime, since I took the opportunity while traveling to meet a distant cousin from my own side of the family, somehow I added one more name to that tree, too, so it's time to up that total to 41,939 relatives. Though my research generally follows a plan and schedule, sometimes life presents opportunities which simply can't be missed. I'm glad I did reach out and meet a cousin in this case.

This coming week marks the last full week of the month, and I'm hoping to be closing in on an answer concerning Lydia Miller's roots. Tomorrow, we'll start following a possible branch of this same Miller family who took a detour from the usual Ohio route to migrate to Indiana.