Others Have Passed this Way Before

 

While I may be death on copying others' posted family trees, I'm not averse to using them as a tool in my own research. I like to think of the research done by others as the work of trailblazers, and proceed accordingly. Finding others' assertion that the parents of my third great-grandmother, Delaney Townsend Charles, were John and Kiziah Townsend of Marlboro County, South Carolina, is certainly worth consideration. At the least, it is a hypothesis which requires testing.

As I move forward in paging through browse-only digitized documents containing wills and probate records of the said John Townsend, I've also set as my task the gathering of background information. For instance, I know nothing about the Marlboro district in South Carolina, nor what the evidently strong connection was, back in the early 1800s, between that northern part of South Carolina and the panhandle region of the territory of Florida. I have much yet to learn about what life was like for my third great-grandparents and the generation preceding them.

Thus, I've stumbled upon stuff in my wanderings online. At about the same time as I found a reference to the 1879 book, A History of Marlboro County, I discovered online rebuttals to the very tentative wordings employed by the book's author, John Alexander William Thomas.

Though not the first argument I came across, one website's post included a "Rebuttal of Conflicting Information" (on page eleven of a file posted here). Scrolling down to the final page in search of the author's identity, I found it to be a researcher by the name of Joseph T. Burval. This was not a surprise to me by then, as I had already stumbled upon his work in a number of other sites. A little intel gathering led me to his website on the Townsend line, and a page introducing a Townsend genealogy he had compiled and published in 2006.

Unfortunately for me, I discovered the book is no longer in print. However, the author was generous enough to make a copy available to all via the book section of the FamilySearch.org website. Thus, for anyone interested in reading it, the book can be accessed here. 

Much of the book's findings have also been included on the Burval website, I suspect, including an entry on Delaney Townsend's supposed father, John Townsend, and one on Delaney, herself. Though this researcher demonstrated incisive handling of the weakly-worded assertions we discussed yesterday, even he seemed to fall short of documenting some of the relationships I've been able to assess. For instance, in questioning why the children of Delaney and her husband, Andrew Charles, were in another household by the time of the 1860 census, the author remarks,

By 1860, the three children, Rupert, Fannie and Emma ages 14, 13 and 11 respectively are in the household of Melburn L. Odum, age 30, a carpenter, born South Carolina in New River County, Florida. Why these three children are in New River County without their parents in 1860 is unknown.

Of course, we have already figured out that puzzle—by following the documentation, something I also need to do to connect Delaney to her parents, whether they are John and Kiziah, or another couple from South Carolina. But even in this carefully documented book on the Townsend descendants in South Carolina, Kentucky, and Florida, I have yet to find any reference to a will—or any other document which provides the specific names of John and Kiziah's children.

What the book did mention, however, was another curious report—this time, by a family member close to Delaney's generation—provided in statements to the Daughters of the American Revolution. With a little fast action, I may be able to obtain a copy of that document to verify the complete text for myself. Maybe, even, by tomorrow.

 

The Disputable Discourse

 

Imagine, if you will for a moment, the hapless novice family historian. She starts out with good intentions to fill in the blanks on her pre-printed pedigree chart. For entries on father and mother, there is no hesitation, for she, as keeper of the family records, likely already has access to such information. Each step of the way, as she pushed toward details on her grandparents, is likely as simple a task to complete.

At some point, the paper trail becomes disrupted, and no matter what manner of contortions our hapless avocational genealogist twists herself into, she cannot conjure up the requisite proof of an ancestor's existence.

For most of us—those searching the garden variety Smiths and Joneses and others insignificant to world history—the trail ends at that point. But imagine, instead, that the researcher discovers her ancestor somehow, magically, became the central point in a dispute about origins and names and dates—and assertions of parentage with no basis whatsoever for support.

That is the dilemma wherein I've now found myself.

Let's take a look at what can be said for assertions about the parents of my third great-grandmother, Delaney Townsend Charles. Remember, all I know is that she was married in Madison County, Florida, in 1841, and that she, along with her husband and three children, appeared in the 1850 census for that same county, with the note stating her birthplace was in South Carolina.

Remember, too, that in addition to Delaney Townsend, Madison County was home to several other Townsend households, most of which originated in South Carolina, as well.

Since we observed, yesterday, that one of those Madison County Townsend men claimed to have been born in Marlboro County, South Carolina, let's see what we can find from some history reports of an earlier era. In 1879, John Alexander William Thomas published his tome entitled A History of Marlboro County: With Traditions and Sketches of Numerous Families. 

Fortunately, we are in luck, for one of those "numerous families" included in the volume was the Townsend family. From the narrative beginning at the bottom of page forty three, we learn that the Townsend family had been "prominent" in Marlboro County "for many years" and that they "may also be placed among the original settlers of this portion of the country."

According to the Thomas manuscript, the first Townsend to arrive in Marlboro County was named Light Townsend, "so far as our information goes."

That last phrase may be key to our discussion, both today and tomorrow, so keep that doubtful phrase in mind while we explore the rest of the article. The text continues to mention that this Light "is put down as an active soldier of the Revolution."

Interesting. Let's see what we can find by cross checking that assertion. Jumping to the National Society of the Daughters of the American Revolution, there was indeed a record for a patriot named Light Townsend, but if you take a look, the entry in their database bleeds red ink. "Problems have been discovered with at least one previously verified paper—see ancestor's full record," the record shrieks. Perhaps the Thomas publication chose such judicious wording for a reason.

This may have been a case of two men with the same, admittedly unusual, name—which, as we'll see tomorrow, became a portion of a proof argument by a much later researcher. At the same time, the Thomas book was not immune from committing the same mistake again, regarding this Townsend family. Following the text onto the next page, one finds one's head swimming with references to several Townsends by the name of John; the generations begin to meld.

Somewhere in the mix, there was a John Townsend in Marlboro County, the very reason we first visited this possible trail back through Delaney's Townsend generations. Remember, more researchers than I can count have cut and pasted the assertion that Delaney's parents were John and Kiziah (or Keziah) Townsend—without documentation. Interestingly enough, that John also merited an entry in the D.A.R. Patriot file. And that, too, sported some red ornamentation.

While that John Townsend was asserted to be a resident of Marlboro County, curiously, another Townsend researcher included a footnote to her tree, quoting an entry from the multi-volume Pioneers of Wiregrass Georgia. The quote regarding John Townsend began with the explanation,

While never a resident of Wiregrass Georgia, John Townsend of Marlborough district, S.C., lived a few years in Georgia and had four son who were early settlers of Lowndes County [Georgia].

The biographical entry continued to recount the details we've been able to glean from John Townsend's own headstone (though not without disagreement): that he was born in South Carolina in 1760, married "Keziah Hays" and "died there...1858" (if, indeed, this regards the same individual, his headstone reports 1843).

It's a good thing the Ancestry subscriber quoting the Wiregrass entry provided volume number (seven) as well as page number (422-423) for the John Townsend entry. Despite continuing the quote to begin a listing of their "fourteen" children, the entry is cut short after child number seven, Florrie, born in 1804. If our Delaney was indeed included in that list, we would have had a long way to go to reach her year of birth in about 1816.

That, of course, would have been provided the Wiregrass manuscript was more accurate than the Thomas History of Marlboro County. In either case—more accurate or not—the entries contained therein were derived from reports of individuals who may or may not have had firsthand knowledge of the family. Worse, they may have come from the nameless "friends of friends" resource which, all too often, fails to report the situation accurately, despite making a warm and fuzzy story for people who like to bask in the reflected glory of family mythology.

Ouch. Was that my outside voice speaking?

While I have not yet been able to produce any documents connecting Delaney to this or any other Townsends in South Carolina, I found it interesting that at least one other researcher did mount a determined rebuttal to some portions of what might indeed have been family mythology, which fortunately is accessible through FamilySearch. We'll take a look at that side of the Townsend discourse tomorrow.  

Learning About New Territory

 

Question: What do I know about the Marlboro County, South Carolina, origin of those many Townsends who moved to Madison County, Florida?

Answer: Absolutely nothing!

Before I can figure out any pertinent genealogical gems like why those Townsend families chose to move, nearly en masse, from South Carolina to Florida, it would help to get a grasp of what life was like before 1850 in Marlboro County.

I take my tip regarding Marlboro County from the headstone of one of those many senior Townsend folks buried in Madison County, Allen Townsend. According to his headstone, he was born in 1801 in Marlboro County, South Carolina.

Of course, you and I know that it is quite possible that two people living in the same town and claiming the same surname might not be related at all. However, despite lacking any tangible record of relationship between my third great-grandmother, Delaney Townsend Charles, and this other Townsend man, I do have a reason for pursuing this lead. An irritating reason: Marlboro County—and one Townsend couple in particular—are plastered on every Townsend DNA-match's tree I've encountered, asserted to be the parents of Delaney Townsend Charles.

Without documentary support. Hence, the irritation.

Since I can't find any paper trail to lead me in a different direction, I decided I may as well follow the trail and learn what I can about the Townsend digs in Marlboro County. In the meantime, prepare to formulate a research hypothesis and test it to see if it holds up to scrutiny. After all, I can give it my best go to prove wrong the contention that Delaney Townsend's parents were John and Kiziah Townsend of Marlboro County.

Checking out the usual sources for research overviews, I learned that Marlboro County was established in 1785, making it quite reasonable to expect access to land records by 1786, and—more to our point—probate records by 1787. The difficulty with losing Delaney before 1860—the date and place of her death has yet to be documented—is that I have nothing beyond her 1841 marriage record and the entry of her family in the 1850 census to trace her adulthood in Florida. What brought this young, unmarried woman to Florida from South Carolina is, so far, unclear.

There was, by contrast, information abounding for Delaney's supposed parents, easily accessible through other posted family trees. From a typewritten listing of burials in Marlboro County, including several Townsends, I could see that John and Kiziah were buried there at Mossy Bay Cemetery. This, of course, led me to the Find A Grave entry for the same location.

Based on the information etched in the headstones, we can see that John Townsend died in 1843, not quite supporting the scenario of a fatherless child being quickly married away in 1841. The key, one would suppose, could be found in reading John Townsend's will, which hopefully would be careful to actually name his descendants. That, however, is easier said than done, as the digitized court records are available, browse only, at FamilySearch.org. And though some are searchable in a record set at Ancestry.com, a search for all Townsend documents in Marlboro County comes up short for the right John.

The curious quirk is that, if the record were readily available to access, why hasn't anyone footnoted as support of Delaney's position in that family that she was mentioned in such a document? Perhaps she wasn't. Perhaps this was not her father. But to demonstrate that, we'd first have to locate such a will.

Meanwhile, as I'm "browsing" through such a resource, there are other resources I've discovered—and more to share, while I'm sparing you the sausage-making tedium of grinding through microfilm records.   

Paper Trail: Step One

 

There comes a time when the diligent family historian will face a research dilemma. In my case, this month's project to discover the origin of my third great-grandmother, Delaney Townsend Charles, was set to tackle such a problem: Delaney and her husband, Andrew Charles, seemed to disappear from view sometime after their cameo appearance in the 1850 census.

Their children resurfaced somehow, but without their parents. By 1860, Benjamin (and/or Rupert), Francis (or Fannie), and Emma Charles appeared in the household of their paternal aunt Drucilla and her second husband, Melburn Odum in the now-defunct New River County (now Bradford County), not far from where their parents' household had been in 1850 Madison County, Florida.

Of course, if the demise of the Charles couple had occurred at a later date, I could have pulled up a death record in hopes of discovering Delaney's parents' names. But I don't even have the luxury of verifying the date, or the cause, or even the location of their (likely tragic) end. Thus, my end run around this record-keeper's roadblock by seeking out other possible Townsend relatives where Delaney was last seen in Madison County.

In the meantime, it was vital that I retrace my steps in another direction. I mean, what if Delaney wasn't a Townsend, after all? Other than family assertions that that was the case, I had no record from an impartial source.

Since I descend from Delaney's youngest daughter, Emma, my first step was to retrieve a death record for my second great-grandmother. That required going through some genealogical steps which I haven't had to do for a long time, considering all the digitization benefits we researchers are now blessed to have. I actually sent away for Emma Charles McClellan's death certificate.

The document arrived last week, with almost no surprises. Emma died nearly twenty five years after her husband, William Henry McClellan, but it was a surprise to see the reporting party wasn't a close relative. However, the informant, D. E. McDonald, was a name already entered into my family tree, thankfully: Emma's husband's niece's husband.

While only a genealogist might be able to swallow that relationship without wincing, it did cause me to wonder about reporting accuracy. After all, would you expect your niece's husband to have your spouse's middle name on the tip of his tongue?

And so it was that, in the rush of paperwork following the death of a loved one, David Edward McDonald was deputized to complete the necessary reporting duties after widow Emma Charles McClellan departed this life, late on the evening of April 11, 1940. Thus, we are given her middle name as Rosalee, not the impossibly-spelled "Rosezella" of her headstone. And the particulars on her parents' names are less than we could have hoped.

However, while giving the birth locations as only the name of the state—Florida—and omitting anything but the surnames, we do receive the coveted confirmation that Emma's father was indeed from the Charles family. And her mother, albeit announced with a slight misspelling, was delivered to us as a "Townscend."

At least now, we have tangible confirmation—well, if Mr. McDonald got that detail correct—that when we look for Emma's mother Delaney, we are indeed seeking information on the Townsend line. That one solid toe-hold, as we'll see tomorrow, was enough encouragement to try the leap into yet more undocumented and messy assertions about this family, once we follow another of last week's clues back to Marlboro County, South Carolina.

Pruning the Family Tree

 

With springtime comes certain annual chores, not the least of which involves turning my mind to the plants—including fruit trees—outdoors. Likewise, from time to time, I find myself needing to prune a different type of tree: my family tree.

Such was the case this week, when I came face to face with two men by the same name—George Gordon—with similar dates and place of birth. Both of them (unfortunately for me, at least) married women by the name of Sarah. The only thing that saved me was that one of the Georges decided, later in life, to move from his native Ohio to Illinois.

As if this weren't enough to drive one to distraction, a second discovery caused an extra need for caution. This came about, owing to the fact that this branch of our family tree was one I had worked on nearly two decades ago, in tandem with another Gordon researcher whose hands-on research savvy was nearly impeccable. 

Nearly.

I discovered, in sorting out the two Georges, that one of the Georges had a record of descendants which included not one but two Sarahs named as spouse, each with a different maiden name. 

That began the struggle to sort things out: two Georges and three Sarahs. In the end, it required me to delete several names, as both sets of children were intertwined. For today's biweekly count, I braced to see the numbers drop—and wondered whether I had made the right move, or deleted the wrong people.

While I'm sure the net change was microscopic in the long view, it reminds me of the need to always be reviewing our work, and to check every detail—even if we've already assured ourselves of the verification acquired.

In the end, the tree—it was my mother-in-law's side that involved the changes—now stands at 20,175. Thanks to several other additions made to this tree, it still gained eighty seven individuals despite the pruning. And I now feel more confident about the new shape those Georges are in.

Thankfully, there were no surprises in my own family tree, which now includes 25,303 names, up ninety one in the past two weeks. But I'm aware errors can happen at any time. Review of data and applying appropriate questions can sometimes bring errors to the forefront. As I add new DNA matches to each tree, it helps to review the lines in question to see what new documentation can be found, and to see if the records still support the conclusions made, the last time I passed this research way.

After all, when we have been in the process of building our family tree for many years, the chances that new discoveries will prompt us to review old conclusions are high. Taking the time to periodically check each branch for signs that it might need pruning makes for a wise family tree arborist. 

Today: Something I've Been Meaning to Do

 

Today, I'm finally getting around to doing something I've meant to accomplish ever since the close of this year's SLIG: set up my own account at LibraryThing. (Don't go looking for my user name yet on the app; after all, this project is on my to-do list for today.)

I first heard of LibraryThing thanks to comments erupting on the private Facebook group for SLIG attendees at the end of the second January session. Just reading through all the comments was enough to give me a brief overview of what the app could do for a book lover like me. I was instantaneously sold on the idea. I have, after all, far more books in my house than I'd care to inventory by hand.

LibraryThing is "a community brought together by the love of books." Is it any surprise, then, that genealogists—who, at their roots, must also be lovers of history—would be lovers of books?

Apparently, ever since LibraryThing's launch by web developer Tim Spalding in August of 2005, it has grown to well over two million users who use the online service to catalog and track their books, music, and movies—even scan those titles into your own personal catalog by using your phone and the LibraryThing app. 

Some SLIG attendees mentioned using the service to help keep track of the books they lend out to friends—a perennial problem for those of us who love books and have friends who love them, too. I am perhaps not as generous, having long since failed the necessary retrieval tasks at the other end of that exchange. But I do have two storage bins filled with books needing to be rehoused on a bookshelf in my living room, the perfect opportunity to put the newly-downloaded LibraryThing app through its paces.

Only nine hundred ninety nine more books to go...and counting (digitally). 

A Walk Through Madison's Memories

 

Cemeteries give us a chiseled record of the micro-history of a specific place, if we care to wander the silent walkways between headstones and let their epitaphs give us pause to consider.

Since there were so many Townsend families among the early settlers in Madison County, Florida, rather than continue to spin my wheels in the frustration of not identifying the parents of Delaney Townsend, I thought slowing the research pace to virtually wander through and read the headstones might be informative. First, I checked Find A Grave to gather a listing of all cemeteries in Madison County—of which there are nearly one hundred. Then, I followed up with a second search, requesting all burials in Madison County containing the surname Townsend. From that start, I hoped the photographs the website features would help tell the story to me.

We already had gleaned the names of the main Townsend households resident in Madison County in 1850, so I knew to keep an eye out for Samuel (age fifty six), Allen (age forty nine), Benjamin (age thirty seven) and Israel (age twenty seven). While my search for the parents of my third great-grandmother Delaney would have been made immensely easier if I could find a token bidding me slip her name within any of those four Townsend men's households, I also recalled that there were other young adults living there in households other than their parents. Delaney's case may have been similar to theirs.

The now-familiar Townsend names did appear on Madison County's headstones. I struggled with Benjamin's headstone, asserting that he was born in Madison County—while that 1850 census reported his birthplace as South Carolina. Likewise, Joseph's record at Find A Grave indicated a birth in Georgia, though I recognize that it wasn't the headstone itself reporting that detail, but the entry of a volunteer.

Still, I look toward these headstones for clues of where the Townsends of Florida may have originated—any hint to point me toward the generation preceding my Delaney. Allen himself, likely father of both Joseph and Benjamin, had a headstone which seemed to give me exactly what I was looking for—although the marker itself looks far more recent than the 1880 date of death it proclaims for the one whom it is memorializing.

According to Allen Townsend's headstone, while he died in Madison County, Florida, on May 10, 1880, he had been born on November 21, 1801, in Marlboro County, South Carolina.

Here, at last, was an indication of just where, in South Carolina, those Townsends might have originated. Of course, that doesn't mean every Townsend household I located in Florida in the 1850 census came from that same South Carolina location. At the least, it pointed a finger.

The trouble with this, though—and you knew there would be a catch here—is there are several assertions floating out there in the genealogical ether, stating that the Townsends of Madison County, Florida, came from one specific Townsend family in Marlboro County, South Carolina. I've already seen that.

What I haven't yet seen is any documentation to support that assertion. And documentation is what I am—still—seeking.