Hacking Into the Network

 

It may have been the shortcut of DNA testing which revealed just who the relatives of brick wall ancestor Lidia Miller might have been, but we are still missing the specific details I am after. Sure, Lidia might have been related to Jonathan Miller—as well as being his neighbor in Perry County, Ohio—but we can't be sure just how they were related. Siblings? Cousins? We need to get down to a more granular level with these Miller family DNA matches, yet the documentation doesn't seem to be there.

There is one other way that keeps calling us back, though: cluster research. This is our call to return to that network of those who knew each other best: the Miller family's traveling partners who made the journey with them to the frontier of Ohio in the early 1800s. While we as researchers may not have the convenience of birth or death certificates from that time period—let alone census records naming each member of the household—we still need to find a way to hack into that network of relatives and traveling partners who accompanied each other into the (very risky) wilds of the frontier. 

Face it: this was not the time period in which one's future grandfather hopped onto his Harley to check out the chicks hanging out in the town square, one county away. Getting around was slow and ponderous, took planning, and required security measures. Those whom you knew—and trusted—became an essential element in your immigration plan. And wherever our ancestors went, those Friends, Associates, and Neighbors—or F.A.N. Club for short—were sure to go, as well.

Though we're into our third full week of chasing information on young Lidia Miller, my mother-in-law's second great-grandmother who lived only long enough to marry and give birth to two sons, we have little to show for our efforts. We have discovered that Lidia's one surviving son, Adam Gordon, was named in his paternal grandfather's will—but we have not been as successful in finding a similar mention in the will of a maternal grandfather. We traced the records for a Miller neighbor of Lidia and her husband, William Gordon, in hopes of discovering any relationship, and then, hopefully, finding his parents' names. DNA matches tip us off that Lidia and Jonathan Miller were indeed related, based on the DNA of their descendants. But that doesn't confirm the exact relationship.

Following land records, we can see that Jonathan's property once was owned by someone named Adam Onsbaugh—or Anspach—who eventually deeded the land to a daughter, who married a Dupler. And discovering that Jonathan's own wife was born a Dupler dangles yet another tantalizing hint before our eyes.

Thus, we have Duplers related to Anspaches, and Duplers related to Millers, but how the Millers relate to each other, I can't yet uncover. Still, knowing how important those networks were to early immigrant settlers, I'm convinced there has to be a connection. After all, the population of the entire county in 1820—well over a decade after Adam "Onsbaugh" acquired his property—was only eight thousand people. Back then, people stuck with those they knew. And those they knew were often family members.

To hack into that network—those friends, associates, and neighbors—will take following those other surnames which seem to keep re-appearing, every time I research Jonathan or Lidia Miller. The ultimate goal will be to zero in on parents' names for either Jonathan or Lidia, of course, but it may take us around in more circles before we close in on the answer—if, indeed, we can do so before the end of this month.