Following the Trailblazer: Trust, but Verify

When moving into new territory, it helps to have a trailblazer lead the way. That thought, however, comes with caveats. Is the trailblazer reliable? Someone who deserves our trust? Can the guide's assertions be verified? When following a trailblazer, at least of the genealogical kind, adopt the motto: "Trust, but verify."

Continuing our whirlwind tour of the daughters of John Carter, my fifth great-grandfather, our next child to consider is Sarah. For pursuit of this daughter, our efforts may be hampered by a few factors. The first is that, according to one published book on the Carter genealogy, her mother was reported to be Elizabeth Armistead, of whose marriage to John Carter I haven't yet found any record. The second detail is that Sarah's name didn't appear in a subsequent legal document regarding the Carter children from 1818, suggesting her death prior to that point.

Still, there is much to learn about Sarah Carter. She had married William Sutton sometime before 1780, bearing him several children, three of whom were daughters representing the matriline of one of John Carter's wives. As to that matrilineal founder of Sarah's line, though, the question may be whether it was Elizabeth Armistead or someone else. 

Perhaps fortunate for us—although such a plan doesn't always turn out as neatly as hoped—Sarah's marriage into the Sutton family earned her a spot in one published volume from 1941, The Suttons of Caroline County, Virginia, compiled by Trible Dix Sutton. By virtue of that report—and entries in the book of the generations to follow Sarah Carter—we now have one researcher's idea of how the generations unfolded. The plan, then, is to use this book as a trailblazer and trace Sarah's line, confirming the reports on each subsequent generation through documents available online.

Three details of interest stand out as I begin this process of tracing the line of William Sutton and Sarah Carter. The first is that, from what I've found of Sarah's three daughters so far, she was blessed with at least seven granddaughters—of keen interest to us in this matrilineal project. Secondly, among Sarah's sons was the very relative whose Carter family stories had such an influence on the Joseph Lyon Miller book on the Carter genealogy. The third detail, becoming obvious as I move through the lines of Sarah's grandchildren and beyond, is that the family name "Armistead" appears on a regular basis.

Much as was the case for the first of John Carter's wives, Sarah Kenyon—who, though forgotten in one major Carter genealogy, saw her maiden name echoed in subsequent generations—Sarah Carter Sutton's mother, if she was indeed Elizabeth Armistead as Joseph Lyon Miller asserted, may have been memorialized in the repeated use of the Armistead surname. Of course, this could be attributed to an Armistead ancestor on the Sutton side of the family equation, but it reminds me to keep watching for any further signs of that surname.

For now, with the time remaining for this research project so short, we'll continue tomorrow with another of John Carter's daughters. Behind the scenes, though, I will be confirming the suggested lines of descent of Sarah Carter and William Sutton by linking each individual to supporting documentation. This first project of my Twelve Most Wanted for 2026 has become far more than could be handled in one short month. We will likely revisit this multi-generation project again in another year.

Doubts and Doubling Up

 

The more a family's lines of descent engender doubts, the more we need to double up on documenting the actual history. I'm finding that to be the case as I search for the descendants of John Carter's daughters.

Right now, I've been reviewing records of the daughters of John's first wife, Sarah Kenyon. At this point, my focus is on his fourth child, Ann, who had married William Heslop before supposedly dying in Spotsylvania County, Virginia, in about 1829. 

Genealogist George Harrison Sanford King had used Ann's daughter Sarah as his poster child for consideration that Ann's mother—and John Carter's first wife—was actually Sarah Kenyon and not Elizabeth Armistead, as had been claimed by another genealogist, Joseph Lyon Miller, in his book, The Descendants of Capt. Thomas Carter of "Barford." The King argument was clear: that it was significant that daughter Sarah's full name was Sarah Kenyon Haslop—hardly a family name that would have been expected if Sarah's maternal grandmother and namesake had been an Armistead instead of a Kenyon.

Since the King manuscript mentioned that Sarah Kenyon Haslop—or Heslop—had died testate in Spotsylvania County, I decided to take a look. There, in the county's court records for September 7 of 1857, was Sarah's will. Two details to notice with that will: that Sarah apparently died unmarried without children of her own; and that immediately following the recording of that will in Spotsylvania County records appeared the will of one James Heslop.

So who was James Heslop? Could he have been her husband, and I had misunderstood the contents of Sarah's own will? Or could he have been her father's relative? To resolve these questions, I took a look at the county's death register for that year of 1857.

Disappointingly, for Sarah's entry, her parents were listed as "Wm + N Heslop"—not quite the name I was hoping to see for Sarah's mother Ann. Could it have been the result of sloppy writing or misheard information? Perhaps I was looking at a record for the wrong person.

But then, once again, I noticed the entry right next to it: for James Heslop. Digesting all the information entered, it appeared that James died at age 79, while a month later, Sarah Heslop died at age 80. Parents were listed as the same couple for both Heslop death entries. James' death record included the listing of a wife's name, though in those frustrating initials: "L. A. Heslop." And the reporting party for both entries was the same person: "W. Heslop," said to be son of James and nephew of Sarah.

Obviously, that was a helpful clue—although whether it applies to our Sarah Heslop, I can't say for sure yet. However, returning to Sarah's will, there was more to muddy the waters, requiring further doubling up on documents to verify whether we are on the right track. For with Sarah's will, she named specific nieces and nephews to receive her property—and wouldn't you know it, but some of those details also don't seem to line up with what had been reported previously.

When in doubt about records, double up. 

The Long Slide Down to the Present

  

After wills and deeds and, yes, even squabbles among family members aired in the district court room, I've amassed enough names to begin the next formidable step. From that lofty perch atop the pedigree chart of my fifth great-grandfather John Carter, I envision my next task to be tracing a long slide down the lines of descent to our present time.

I've already begun the process with some of the names recently discovered—or, to put it more accurately, those names more recently amended, based on convincing arguments. I have a patterned way to navigate those lines of descent: from one Carter child, I then document the marriage, then find listings of that couple's children. Beginning with the oldest child of that couple, I then chart that child's eventual marriage and children, then do the same for the next generation in that line, then the next generation, until I've reached the present time.

Once I've taken that long slide down to the present—or for as far as I can keep going—I rewind the process for the second-born child, then third. Eventually, all lines of descent for all John Carter's children will be documented in like manner in my family tree—at least those for whom documentation is available.

As we have already seen in this case of John Carter's family, some of those early discoveries were buried in court records for extended family members, whether parents of in-laws, or half siblings, or others who felt they righteously had a slight which only the court system could right.

Sometimes, this process simply can go no farther than court records can guide us. That realization may seem discouraging, considering the war-torn history of Virginia, home to this Carter family for generations, but I'm actually looking forward to checking the numbers when I do my biweekly count this weekend. I think seeing the numbers will be encouraging.

Then, too, the estimate via ThruLines calculations of my DNA matches linked to this Carter line will undoubtedly change as I add more names to this line of descent on my tree at Ancestry.com. After all, ThruLines is not only based on DNA results, but is partially guided by other subscribers' information on their tree. But in which way, I'm not yet sure.

Keep in mind: mistaken input, mistaken output. And yet, with so many people opting to use the old Carter genealogy book compiled by Joseph Lyon Miller in 1912 to build their tree—declaring Elizabeth Armistead, but not Sarah Kenyon, as wife of John Carter—I may actually see my number of Carter ThruLines matches drop. (I revised my tree to follow the argument in the George Harrison Sanford King paper which supports that Sarah Kenyon was mother of at least John Carter's first four children.) With all these adjustments and additions, both my biweekly count and the ThruLines count will be something to watch as we close in on the end of this month's research goals. 

Exhibit A versus Exhibit B

 

It seems an easy way out to depend on published genealogies of our ancestors, especially those whose life span stretched over that century mark crossing from United States records to colonial British North American records. Exhibit A in that case might be said to be the Joseph Lyon Miller volume, The Descendants of Capt. Thomas Carter of "Barford," Lancaster County, Virginia, published in 1912, which includes a chapter on the "Descendants of John Carter of Caroline and Spotsylvania."

That volume, as has long been noted, contains information on two wives of John Carter. All well and good, you might think—until we reach the part about wife number one being named Elizabeth Armistead. 

The last time I had focused on John Carter's family as part of my annual Twelve Most Wanted, I stumbled upon wills of extended family members which had indicated that John Carter's first wife was not named Elizabeth Armistead, but Sarah Kenyon. Yet the Miller genealogy seemed to make no reference to that possibility.

Enter Exhibit B. Thanks to some exploration at FamilySearch.org using their Full Text Search option, I stumbled upon a typewritten manuscript drawn up by genealogist George Harrison Sanford King. Among other details, this report was concerned with the identity of John Carter's first wife.

As I read through this particular manuscript, I could see George Harrison Sanford King's painstakingly careful outlay of details in support of Sarah Kenyon as John Carter's wife. Let's just say that, in the case of Exhibit A versus Exhibit B, in the first ten pages, he had me convinced—although I admit, I was already partial to that point of view, having found some of those court records, myself.

However, pages one through ten of this manuscript are only skimming the surface of the legal paperwork drawn up concerning this extended family. We've only just begun learning the full story. By page ten it's too soon to draw up a judgment regarding the wives of John Carter just yet. Besides, as the manuscript reveals—and the court records bid me to observe—things are about to become rather messy in the Carter family's story.

Incomplete

 

Have you ever come to the end of a school semester and somehow realized you were not able to complete the course work? That's how I feel today, facing down this week and seeing the end of the month looming large. Still to do: find any documentation which can either directly or indirectly confirm the marriage of my fifth great-grandfather John Carter and a woman by the name of Elizabeth Armistead. At the end of this month, I'll likely concede I deserve a grade of "incomplete."

Problem: just because everyone says it's so does not make it true. Everywhere I've turned, wondering if anyone else has found what I've failed to find, all I uncover is the same litany: that the couple did get married. How do these people know? Because a genealogy book published in 1912 said so. No documents. Not even any indirect evidence or thorough proof arguments. Nada.

I can see some ways that more research could possibly lead to answers. Prime among those ways is embedded in a likely Elizabeth Armistead's father's will. According to the 1719 will of one Francis Armistead, his daughter Elizabeth was bequeathed eighty five acres of land in Richmond County where her father had been living at the time of his death.

The beauty of that discovery is that Elizabeth, when her father died, was not quite three years of age. It would be a long time before this child would come into her own and possess that land. In the meantime, based on the traditions of the time, she would likely have had a guardian appointed to oversee the care of her property, even if her mother were the one taking care of her personal needs. And those guardianship proceedings would have been noted in court records.

In Elizabeth's case, if that guardianship appointment had been recorded, it should have shown up in Richmond County court documents for us to see. I have yet to find any such mention. I'm still looking, of course. The hope is that, having made that discovery, it might reveal where Elizabeth grew up, and where she was living at the time of her marriage to John Carter—if, indeed, that is what became of her before her untimely death. It's all a matter of completing the process by closing in on the minutiae of her life story, and letting those details lead us one step further.

Tracking any record of that property itself should also reveal some information in our search. For instance, if the land was sold, there would be a court record of the sales transaction. If the land remained Elizabeth's property as she entered into marriage—and then died, likely intestate—there should be some way to trace how the land was inherited, and by whom. Of course, any disputes over the disposition of the land after her passing should also show up in court records. Yet, do I find any? Not yet. That's still an incomplete task, no matter how I've searched so far.

This same search process yielded us information on another wife of John Carter who many researchers had not even been aware of—Sarah, the daughter of Abraham Kenyon who became mother of at least two of John Carter's children, yet whose name was not even mentioned in the Carter genealogy book so many still rely on. And yet, for Elizabeth Armistead, I have not yet been able to find any source to show the disposition of her inherited property after her death.

Searching through court records can be a tedious process, definitely not one that makes for scintillating reports. Though I will likely keep up the process through the rest of the month—and revisit it at a later date—let's move on tomorrow to the next point in my agenda for this month's research goals: to see whether our John Carter had any family connections with someone who was considered the wealthiest man in the colonies: Robert "King" Carter.

Since it's her Birthday

 

Though—warning!—we are about to traipse down a rabbit trail, please indulge my escape from the main research path to remark on a curiosity in my struggle with Armistead-Carter liaisons in colonial Virginia. Yes, I'm getting ahead of myself with today's post, but hey, today would have been her birthday. Can't miss an opportunity like that.

It was February 25 a long time ago—four hundred fifty nine years ago, to be exact—when Colonel John Armistead's wife Judith gave birth to a daughter. They named the child after her mother, and soon went back to everyday life at their home in Gloucester County. After all, they had two more daughters and four more sons to welcome in the next twenty five years. Baby Judith Armistead was just the beginning.

That, at least, was what her "About" page reveals on FamilySearch, though her Find A Grave memorial insists that her date of birth was actually 23 February 1665. Not for any reason to quibble about date discrepancies do I bring up this Armistead connection, however, but for the identity of the person whom she married about twenty three years later. That, incidentally, was the man once dubbed "King" Carter by his contemporaries in the colony's political and financial spheres, otherwise known as Robert Carter.

Her headstone memorialized several details of Judith Armistead Carter's life: not only her parents' names and that of her spouse, but also the length of her marriage and how many children she bore. Yet, it's not for that reason I bring this up, either. I have plans to touch on the subject of our John Carter's connection to the far better-known Robert Carter before this month is out.

What I am looking at is how often the same surnames seem to cross paths in families of the colonial era in Virginia. In fact, though I have not yet checked out this point for myself, those same parents of Judith Armistead—later the wife of Robert Carter—supposedly happened to have a son named Francis Armistead, at least according to information on FamilySearch. Is that actually so?

Francis Armistead, in turn, was father of Elizabeth Armistead, the young woman whose early death confounded our ability to find documentation on her marriage to our John Carter. Did these colonial Virginians really keep things all in the family?

Bright shiny objects like this have a strange pull on my attention. After all, I do mean to check on the possible relationship between my fifth great-grandfather John Carter and the famed "King" Carter. And I will get to that before this coming week is out, I promise. But I am now up to four counties' record collections which I'm scouring for mentions of the Armisteads—any Armisteads—and I am becoming easily distracted.

I'm sure you understand. After all, it was her birthday. Perhaps.