The Story, as Once was Told to Me

 

Sometimes, those family stories are just that: stories. We can't, however, simply dismiss them out of hand. As with so many such instances, a family story may contain a kernel of truth. It's up to us as family historians to determine which part is the right one to pursue.

So it is with the instance of this month's focus for my Twelve Most Wanted ancestors for 2025. I am beginning to wonder if the story told to me was not entirely verifiable truth. The information was told to me years ago by my mother's second cousin—a fairly close relative, granted, though one I had never known in person—so we could presume it was accurate. Before we make any judgments about its reliability, though, let's take a few minutes to consider the story, as it once was told to me by this distant cousin.

According to the story, William Alexander Boothe—for that was the name this researcher insisted was the man's correct and full name—was born in Nansemond County, Virginia, about 1812. Unknown were his parents, as far as this researcher could tell, as well as the identity of any siblings.

This William was supposedly married to a woman whose name, also, was unknown. The implication was that the marriage took place in Virginia—but again, no documentation.

At some point—perhaps after the birth of a child—the unfortunate, and unnamed, wife died, leaving William Alexander Boothe with the task of raising two young children. A most reasonable solution for such a predicament would be to stay close to family, where grandmothers or aunts could fill in as surrogate mothers until the children's bereaved father could win another bride.

In this William's case, though, his answer was to uproot his two young sons, leave everything behind in Virginia and move to the sparsely-settled region of northeastern Tennessee, where he remained until his dying days.

The backstory to all this drama, according to my cousin, was that William was not too wise with financial matters, perhaps—here's the conjecture—having been tempted by the purchases of fancy race horses. No matter what lured William into this supposed debt, his resolution was basically to do the nineteenth century version of skipping town. And thus...Tennessee.

Was that really what happened? I've tried to find documentation to shed light on any portion of that saga. With the exception of finding someone named Alexander Boothe—note the lack of any "William"—in the 1840 census in Nansemond County, I have so far been unsuccessful in replicating that story.

While I'll always keep that saga in mind—remember, family lore can sometimes contain an element of truth—I may as well start from the beginning and see if the paper trail leads me to a different tale.