Just a Blip on the (Genealogical) Radar

 

One look at the calendar tells me this month is almost over, but I've yet quite a bit more work to do before I attain my goal of documenting the parents of my third great-grandmother, Delaney Townsend Charles. While this Townsend-Charles search deserves far more time and attention, I did find one tiny speck of interest. Let's just call it a blip on the genealogical radar screen.

Searching through millions of pages of digitized records can be, on the one hand, a breeze compared to the research drudgery endured pre-computers. On the other hand, the sheer volume of searchable material sometimes yields a hit or miss experience. I have run across so many documents in one sitting and, having made a mental note to go back to one or two key pieces while working on multiple others, I've subsequently been unable to replicate the online search result—even when using the same search terms. Frustrating, to say the least. This has been a month that has seen more than one time I could have kicked myself.

One such time was when I ran across a court record cataloguing some detail about the estate of Delaney Charles. Like her husband before her, apparently Delaney passed without having drawn up any legal document to protect the interests of her three minor children—but when was the question. On one marathon day of searching, I found several documents on this whole Charles family question—but apparently didn't save each of the links to trace my way back to those sources. And could I replicate those searches? No.

Until now, that is—at least for a couple of them. It may be possible that Delaney and her husband Andrew died within a time frame in which the probate judge appointed an administrator to handle the two cases as one. In one court record on the sale of inventory, Andrew Charles' listing is entered directly across the page from Delaney's—and both possibly entered into the record on the same date (Andrew's entry gives the date as "on the first Monday in April, 1852, while Delaney's entry is dated as "Monday the fifth day of April").

In that record of numbered vouchers, showing cash paid for specific items of the estate, Andrew's inventory mentioned someone named B. I. Townsend—likely Benjamin Townsend. Allen Townsend was also included in that list. Under the entry for Delaney's personal estate, Allen Townsend's name appeared again, as well as the name Temperance Townsend. (The only Temperance I have found so far was Allen's granddaughter. The only problem with that identity is that Allen's granddaughter was not born until 1855.)

Granted, there were several other names also mentioned in that list provided by Theo Hartridge, administrator of the Charles estate. I'm not meaning to imply that by virtue of being included in the list, these people were family—but they knew enough to come by and acquire some of the property being sold from the estate.

Another court record gave more detail as to what was being sold. "A. Townsend"—presumably Allen—purchased one "lot crockery," an oven pot and kettle, and a side saddle. Another Townsend—first initial "W"?—bought a chicken. The whole of Delaney's person estate netted less than one hundred dollars, not much when you consider the court's observation that her three minor children were about to inherit a "considerable estate."

While we can't outright assert that any of the Townsend customers at the Charles estate sale were kin to Delaney, one thing is obvious by this exploration: there was absolutely no mention of Light Townsend, the knight in shining armor who supposedly swooped down from his estate in South Carolina to rescue his poor orphaned nieces in Florida.

There is still one additional way we can explore that assertion about Delaney's possible brother Light. We'll consider that as we wrap up this second of my Twelve Most Wanted ancestors for this year.